Condo Crazies: Murder At The Albatross Read online

  “And you’ll get them when the police are ready.” Judge Phoebe entered the room stomping her heavy cane before her. “Whose idea was this meeting?” She glared at Chester. “Mr. Cheney?”

  “Ahh, you bet, Judge. Tryin’ to get some answers here before anyone else is killed.”

  Phoebe thumped her cane impatiently. “No one here has answers, Mr. Cheney, because no one here knows what the police know.” She turned to the residents. “When I heard about this meeting, I asked Detective Ezuma to come and speak to us. She’ll tell us what we need to know.”

  The feisty old lady turned back to Chester. “Next time you want an audience, Mr. Cheney, have it in your condo. There are three board members here and that constitutes a quorum, and you’ve not observed the Sunshine Law, have you?” She glowered at the hapless Chester. “In fact, you’ve broken the law, Mr. Cheney. Proper action will be taken on that matter.”

  ***

  Judge Phoebe turned her attention to Latasha Ezuma as she came through the door, her dark skin glistening against the white of her blouse.

  “Mornin’, Judge.” Latasha nodded at the residents. “I’m glad y’all are here. I’m gonna tell you what I think you need to know about what’s happenin’ and how to protect yourselves.”

  An apprehensive murmur went through the assembled residents.

  “First off, Miz Pruitt was killed by a blow to her head. The weapon was not found. Her body was discovered in a black trash bag at the bottom of the elevator shaft. She’d been dead at least twenty-four hours 'fore she was found. The police are workin’ with some clues—”

  “What clues?” Chester interrupted.

  Latasha fastened her dark eyes on Chester. “We don’t share that information, sir. We’re lookin’ for a killer here and tellin’ everyone what we found isn’t going to help us find him…or her.”

  “Her?” Chester spluttered. “No one said anything about there being a her!”

  “No one said anythin’ about anythin’, sir,” Latasha said. She turned back to the assembled residents. “Y’all just need to be careful. Lock your doors when y’all go in and when you leave your apartments. Don’t open your door or buzz anyone in unless y’all are absolutely sure who’s outside your door. An’ even then, use the door peephole an’ keep the chain locks on while you check it out. If you use the gym or sauna, go with a friend. Keep a sharp lookout after dark. You’re safer if there’s more than one of you, so team up with others when you go out. These are all things y’all should be doin’ to be safe anyhow, killer or no killer.”

  Latasha turned to Phoebe. “That’s it, Judge. At least for now.”

  “Thank you, Detective.” She turned to the residents. “I suggest you proceed with your daily chores and lives, only with more vigilance. Good morning, all.” And with that dismissive statement, Phoebe turned to Latasha. “Detective, thank you. Anything else I need to know?”

  Latasha looked around the emptying room before she quietly gave the judge a thumbnail sketch of her earlier visit with Yetta Horowitz. “I didn’t want to share this with the other residents, Judge. We’re lookin’ at possible prints and connections to Miz Pruitt.” Latasha swung her tote bag onto her shoulder.

  The old woman nodded. “Thank you, Detective. Appreciate you coming to speak to us.”

  Phoebe watched the detective stride out the door and looked around the empty room. Sunlight poured through the windows, laying a patch of light on the white-haired woman, but the judge’s thoughts were dark. Who could have killed Delores Pruitt? Who had a motive to kill her? One thing the detective said was jarring. Earlier, it hadn’t seemed feasible the murderer might be a woman, but why not? Delores Pruitt was an older, shorter woman, and rather frail. A stronger woman might overcome her easily. An angry woman.

  The judge’s early fascination with Nancy Drew’s mystery adventures and her later years as a prosecutor and judge kicked in. Phoebe’s eyes narrowed as she launched a mental list of possible suspects.

  Chapter 34

  “Umm, you expectin’ company, Kate?” Latasha looked up from the tray of bacon-wrapped scallops she was preparing to the red sports car parked in front of Kate’s Kitchen.

  “No.” Kate had her head in the refrigerator. “Did you see the sweet butter?”

  “Right here. I took it out to soften it to room temp. Hey, look who’s here.” Latasha said.

  “Who?” Kate looked up as the door chimed.

  Tom Delaney walked in and looked around the store. “Hi, there.” He smiled at Kate.

  “Good morning,” Kate said frostily. “How can I help you?”

  He sighed and glanced at Latasha.

  “I’ll be in the back gettin’ the bakin’ pans ready, Kate.” Latasha hid a grin as she slipped into the baking room.

  “No need to leave,” Kate said to Latasha’s retreating back.

  “Kate—” Tom began.

  “Listen, Mr. Delaney,” Kate folded her arms and fixed a stern eye on Tom. “It seems almost every time we’ve talked, it’s ended up with some sort of disagreement, mostly due to your bad temper and manners. I don’t think we need to continue to have any sort of contact.”

  Tom leaned his elbows on the counter and looked at Kate. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk. I didn’t used to be like this. I was actually a nice guy before…but I can’t keep using my ex-wife as a crutch, I know that.” He straightened up and looked at Kate, who was still glaring at him and hadn’t moved an inch. “I know I’m asking a lot, but can we start over? I’m going to get back to who I was before. I think if you meet that guy, you might like him.”

  Kate tipped her head to the side and contemplated him for a moment before she spoke. “I know what divorce can do to people, but I don’t want to be the one to pull you through it. I won’t be the rebound girl, or be involved in co-dependency issues. I’m making a new life for myself, and all I want is to live with my daughter. I owe her and myself that much.” She picked up the pan of scallops and slid them into the tall refrigerator behind her.

  “I’m not asking for that, Kate. I’m not asking you to be my crutch or my desperate hour phone call. I’m not a leaner. I just thought maybe we could be friends.”

  Kate shook her head. “I don’t know where you’re getting that feeling from. We’ve met four times, and three of those have been contentious. That’s not what friends are made of. Face it, Tom, we’re not suited to each other—for friendship, or anything else.”

  “And nothing I say is going to change your mind?”

  “Nope. Nothing. I need to get back to work. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned to go.

  Tom dropped his head for a moment then raised it and looked at the showcase of cakes and prepared foods. “I’m having an organizational party at my office. Will you cater it for me?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Strictly business. I’m new here and I don’t know any other caterers, and let’s face it, you’re starting out and can use the business and publicity. This would be a power lunch buffet for seventy-five people, all local business owners at my office, four weeks from today.” Tom stopped talking and looked at Kate. “What do you say?”

  Kate was silent as she wiped off the worktable before replying. “If I do this, it would be to establish my business. I’ll do my best and it’ll be a memorable buffet, I promise you. But,” the look she sent him was piercing, “it’s not to help you out or have any unnecessary contact with you. Are we clear on that, Tom?”

  “Yes, clear. So you’ll do it?”

  Kate sighed. “Yes.” She turned to the desk in the corner and pulled a stuffed envelope from a folder. “Here are the menus with the buffet selections and prices. Check off what you want served. You can either e-mail it or send it by snail mail. As soon as we get it, we’ll call you back for details and confirmation.”

  “That’s it? Don’t you want a deposit?”

  “Not yet. Once you’ve made your selections, then we’ll need a guarantee of so many people, with a
deposit to cover the cost of food and prep.”

  “Okay. You’re sure you don’t want—”

  “After you’ve made your selections,” Kate repeated, a slight frown forming between her eyes. “Then we’ll contact you with costs. There’s really nothing more to discuss here. Thank you for your business.” She picked up her cell phone. “I need to call a client.”

  “All right then.” Tom had nothing left to say either, and Kate was already tapping in phone numbers. “I’ll get back to you.”

  Kate nodded and waved as she turned her back and listened to her phone. She turned to the window when she heard Tom’s car pull away, and hung up the call without having reached anyone. She was uncomfortable with the sham of a faked call but he left her no recourse. The man couldn’t or wouldn’t take no for an answer, and there was no other response she could give to such a man. Was he good looking? Yes. Was he a good provider? Probably. Did he care about his daughter? It was quite evident that he did. Did he have a good track record with relationships? Kate stopped short at that question. Was hers any better? Not really. Each of them had been kicked in the head by a thoughtless, self-centered partner. But Tom seemed to have taken his blow a lot worse. Or maybe he was just not as good at hiding it as she was.

  ***

  Tom Delaney hadn’t been rebuked so soundly since the Reverend Thompson took him in hand after Tom hit a baseball so hard it sailed across the lot and broke the church’s stained glass window. He had that same feeling now, of being punished for something he thought wasn’t really his fault. But Kate thought it was, and if he was honest with himself, he knew his actions caused this to happen as much as when he’d hit that ball.

  This hadn’t gone at all the way he hoped. Kate had built a brick wall between them. He closed his eyes for a second before turning on the ignition and driving away.

  Chapter 35

  Fat raindrops splatted loudly against the sliding doors. The Intracoastal was barely visible through the heavy downpour as Phoebe worked at her desk overlooking the waterway. But she didn’t see the deluge outside, or the boats scurrying back to their ports, their Sunday outings cut short.

  She considered the list of every unit in the building and the names of residents living there. Some of the names had been black-lined; they were snowbirds and not currently in residence. The rest of the names had notations next to them in Phoebe’s small, neat script.

  Penthouse Two: Devin Dillon, Kate Parker, Alexis Parker.

  Nothing to tie them to a killing and three hate crimes. Devin was more than civil to Delores and ignored his neighbor’s idiosyncrasies, and Kate and Alexis were new to the building.

  No motives to implicate them.

  Unit 405: Chester Cheney

  Eccentric, but did he have a motive? Chester was an ex-military man, full of vitriol, and true, he made it clear he despised Delores Pruitt. But use of the swastikas on the signs and note?

  Those didn’t fit his profile.

  Unit 706: Yetta Horowitz

  There was no way Yetta would use a swastika. She was Jewish. She could have faked the threatening note on her door, but that was doubtful.

  Unit 301: Valentina Lopez.

  Perhaps she bore psychological scars from her dramatic escape from Cuba, as evidenced by her impatience and resistance to authority figures.

  There might be more to Valentina than met the eye.

  Unit 602: Thomas Delaney and his daughter, Carly.

  The Delaneys were new to the building and Florida. There might be a connection to Delores Pruitt, since it was Delores who called Tom to tell him his daughter was entertaining a young man in his condo. And it was right after that Tom’s red sports car was vandalized. No one knew who the perpetrator was.

  It could have been Delores with her twisted thoughts about Carly entertaining a man in her father’s apartment. But the possibility that Tom Delaney had a motive to kill Delores was slim.

  Phoebe drew another sheet of paper from the sheaf and began reading.

  Adrian Spaltro, the young man Carly had entertained in the condo.

  He was also new to Florida. Originally from New Jersey, he lived with friends his own age, was jobless, and seemed to pass his time with girls on the beach. His father was a successful attorney. From her court experiences with spoiled sons of rich men who bankrolled their sons’ pastimes, then paid handsome legal fees to exonerate them from their escapades, Phoebe suspected this father supported his son to get him out of the house and into a life of his own.

  It might be a payback where Delores was concerned for ruining a good thing with Carly. But Yetta’s note? No connection there. However, young Spaltro could bear more investigation.

  Porfirio Baez, building manager of The Albatross.

  Constant recipient of complaints from Delores on anything within and outside the building that she deemed needed attention.

  Enough to murder her? Unlikely. From his reaction on finding the body, not a prime murder suspect.

  Phoebe went through the rest of the list with a thoroughness testament to her judicial procedures on the bench. When she was finished, she leaned back in her chair, absently stroking a necklace of large, freshwater pearls at her throat. If she had any weakness in life, it was pearls. In her travels to exotic lands, she’d amassed a fine collection of fresh and saltwater pearl jewelry, her favorite being the Tahitian pearl. The luster and hues of the peacock bluish-green pearl captured her imagination, as well as the memory of a Tahitian lover when she was a young woman on vacation in Tahiti. It was true, as many said, Phoebe married her profession instead of a man. What no one knew was that she never denied herself the pleasures of a lover. Phoebe was discreet.

  The phone on her desk rang with a soft insistence, breaking her concentration.

  “Hello.”

  “Judge, it’s Latasha Ezuma. You got a minute?”

  “Of course, Detective.”

  “C’n I come and talk to you? I’ve don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m thinkin’ the murderer and hate crime vandal is the same person…and I’m feelin’ that person is an Albatross resident. I got a plan and I need your help.”

  Chapter 36

  “When would you like to come today?” Phoebe looked at the clock on her desk—it was two in the afternoon. “Would four o’clock in my apartment work for you?”

  “I’ll be there. Thanks, Judge.”

  Phoebe fit the phone back into its cradle and gathered the papers on her desk into a neat stack. She set a crystal paperweight on them, and with the assistance of her cane, rose slowly from her chair. The afternoon turned darker as heavier rain moved in. Not surprising. It was the rainy season in Florida. Her back always worsened during rainy spells. Considering she was never expected to walk after an ex-con’s revenge bullet lodged in her spine, it was a small price to pay for being alive. And more proof Phoebe Lillian Burlingame accomplished whatever she set her mind to.

  She turned lamps on around the room and walked to the kitchen. The trash bag she planned on taking to the trash chute earlier was still by the front door. The kitchen clock read 2:45. Plenty of time before the detective’s arrival.

  Phoebe picked up the trash bag and her heavy, silver alligator-head cane. She locked the apartment door and deposited the key in her skirt pocket along with her cell phone before starting down the corridor. It was a short walk to the tiny trash chute room. A clap of thunder reverberated through the building. The lights flickered and went out, plunging the windowless corridor into darkness. Florida Power and Light didn’t guarantee service during storms like this. Dim emergency lights came on.

  She reached the trash room and opened the door. There was no light in the tiny cell but Phoebe could see the chute handle from the light behind her. The trash bag started its journey down to the main trash room. She could hear it sliding down the long chute. She also heard a faint noise behind her and gripped her cane well below the handle before she turned to see the doorway blocked by a dark figure.

  A rais
ed, gloved hand clutching a bat aimed for her. She didn’t wait for the blow to land before she swung the heavy alligator head at the menacing weapon. Oliver found its mark. The weapon flew backward out of the intruder’s hand and into the corridor. The shadowy figure lunged forward reaching for Phoebe, grabbing at her throat. Phoebe’s precious Tahitian pearl necklace snapped, fell, and scattered on the floor.

  Anger added to her survival mode. Phoebe mustered all her strength and jabbed the heavy alligator’s head into her attacker’s midsection. When the intruder doubled over, Phoebe slid her hands down the cane and launched the weighty Oliver directly at the thug’s buckled knees and again at its head. Her attacker staggered backward into the corridor before regaining a footing. Now Phoebe could see a masked, cloaked figure running to the fire exit staircase, leaving the weapon behind in the corridor.

  The elderly woman put a hand out to the wall and steadied herself before she reached into her skirt pocket and drew out her cell phone. She hit a programmed speed dial button.

  “Detective Ezuma,” Latasha answered.

  “Phoebe Burlingame. You need to get here as soon as you can. There’s been another incident at The Albatross.”

  Chapter 37

  “Never mind the water.” Phoebe pointed to a cabinet in her kitchen. “Get the Jack Daniels out of there. Water’s good for thirst. Jack’s good for whatever ails you.”

  Kate put down the glass of water and did the old woman’s bidding. She poured the rich amber liquid into a crystal glass. “Good?” She lifted the glass toward Phoebe.

  “Fine.” Phoebe reached out a steady hand to take the glass and sipped it.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to call the medics?”

  “Quite sure.” Phoebe drained the last of the liquor from the glass. “Good as new.” She turned her head at the sound of a soft knock at the door. “Get that, will you, Kate?”