TURTLE DOVE (Alton Rhode Mysteries Book 7) (13 page)

“I wonder if Glenneagle knows his top editors are screwing each other’s brains out?”

Not too much got by Barry Lewinsohn.

“I feel like a world-class jerk for working with these people,” Benedetto said.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Godfrey,” Barry said. “In my wildest imagination I would not believe what I just heard. Did you see the look on Glenneagle’s face when Wally and Peggy said they had never met Harper? He didn’t know what was going on either. I feel sorry for the poor bastard. He’s going to be out of work soon, along with the others.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I said. “Invincible ignorance is its own defense. Glenneagle may take the fall, and maybe the kid. But Wally the Weasel will figure out a way to blame some junior copy editor making 20 grand a year. But you would think that after Clifford Irving pulled his hoax with the Howard Hughes biography the industry would be cautious.”

“Alton,” Barry said, “how long will it take you to get what you want on Bald Head Island?”

“Hard to say. I hope I convinced Webster that he has nothing to worry about.”

“People will start to talk pretty soon, especially if we cancel investor meetings.”

I remembered my last trip to that part of North Carolina.

“You flew into a private airport for the wedding, as I recall.”

Barry smiled.

“I’ll call Teterboro, and tell them to put a jet at your disposal tomorrow. And there will be a car waiting for you when you land.”

CHAPTER 20 - DINNER INVITATION

I made arrangements for Gunner and Scar, and early the next afternoon I headed out to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey.

It turned out that Lewinsohn & Son belonged to one of those fractional jet ownership programs. The company had a choice of a half dozen different corporate planes available on short notice. The Gulfstream reserved for me could carry nine passengers in plush splendor. I was the only passenger and felt like James Bond. But I passed on a martini and settled for a Heineken and some cashews, quickly and efficiently supplied by a very lovely hostess who undoubtedly wondered who the hell I was to rate such royal treatment for a flight lasting just over an hour.

When I landed at the general aviation field outside Wilmington, North Carolina, just after 4 PM, I was hoping for an Aston Martin as my rental car. But the silver Porsche 911 waiting for me sufficed. It had a GPS system that probably could have found Amelia Earhart, and I was at the ferry dock in Southport a half hour later.

Once I got off the ferry on Bald Head Island, however, I lost the 007 cachet. It’s hard to act like a super sleuth when driving around in a rented golf cart.

In fact, I was at a loss as how to proceed. I knew I could probably locate Sandy Nidus easily enough, but then what? Tail her in a golf cart? I thought about just staking out the house in which the phony Harper was staying. But a man on a golf cart watching a house, even if he moved around frequently, would stand out like, well, a man on a golf cart watching a house. When I passed the golf course, I could see some players. I supposed I could rent some clubs and act like I was looking for a lost ball if I was approached. That probably wouldn’t work, considering that the nearest fairway was more than a mile away from the house.

I was hungry. The cashews had been my late lunch.

Rule No. 1 in the gumshoe handbook: When there is serious thinking to be done, eat.

I drove my cart over to Mojo’s. I was surprised to see that it was busy. I found a spot at the bar and the bartender came over. He recognized me by name, which meant that I had probably spent too much time there in my previous stay. I ordered a beer and asked for a menu.

“I would have thought the island was pretty deserted this time of year,” I said. \

“Still have a few weddings going on,” the bartender said, “and the annual Bald Island Bluefish Tournament is on.” He looked up and down the bar. “Plus, it’s Happy Hour, which we extend in the off-season.”

“How long is it now?”

“Goes from 11 AM to 11 PM.”

“I may move here,” I said, handing him back the menu.

“Any specials?”

“Bluefish.”

“Burger and fries, and another beer.”

While I ate, I came up with my plan. It was Rule #2: When you don’t know what to do, ring the doorbell.

“What’s that?”

It was the bartender. I didn’t realize I’d been thinking out loud.

“Nothing. I’m a man with a plan.”

“Yeah. You fit in real well with our Happy Hour crowd.”  

***

Alexandra Nidus answered the door.

I had expected someone besides “Ashleigh Harper” to do so, since there was another golf cart in the gravel driveway.

“Yes, can I help you?”

Then she recognized me.

“Mr. Rhode, how nice to see you again.” I was pretty sure she didn’t mean it. I was about as welcome as an S.T.D. “What brings you back to our fair island?”

“Hello, Sandy,” I said. “I’m looking for my niece.”

Her eyes flickered for a second.

“Your niece?”

“Yes. Anna Dickson. You must remember her. You helped me get her into the Harper luncheon back in August. I believe you gave her your email and she was going to contact you with some follow-up questions about
The Lighthouse Chronicles
.”

I wanted to see how much she would admit.

“Oh, yes. Small girl, very cute.” Nidus smiled. “I never believed she was your niece. We’d spotted her trying to get in without you. It was pretty obvious that you didn’t know each other and you just did her a favor. I didn’t want to make an issue out of it. She seemed to be a very nice person, and you were very generous to help her out.”

Sandy Nidus was very good.

“You would make a pretty good detective,” I said.

“Coming from a real detective, that’s a nice compliment.”

“Did Anna ever contact you?”

“Yes. We exchanged emails. I answered all of her questions. I hope she was satisfied.”

I didn’t mention that Anna thought she was being given the runaround.

We had reached a point in the conversation when leaving someone standing in the doorway is rude, and maybe suspicious. I smiled at Nidus, but did not say anything. She took the hint.

“Would you like to come in, Mr. Rhode?”

“Yes, thank you. And please call me Alton.”

It was an older house, with a kitchen and dining area on the first floor, and sleeping areas presumably higher up. Most of the newer places on Bald Head, I’d noticed, had floor plans just the opposite, so that occupants could see out over the ocean from living areas on the second or third floors. As with newer houses, this one also had an open floor plan, with the kitchen flowing almost seamlessly into a great room that had couches and chairs on one side near a large television, and a dining area near sliders through which one could catch a glimpse of the ocean over the dunes. The kitchen had all the modern appliances, but the furniture was rustically old.

“Would you like something to drink, coffee perhaps?”

“No, I’m fine.”

We sat across from each other by the television. I heard a squawk. I turned and saw the parrot in the birdcage that Anna Dickson had mentioned in her letter.

“Excuse me,” Sandy Nidus said, standing and walking over to drape a towel over the cage. “He becomes nervous around strangers.”

She sat back down, kicked off her sandals and tucked her feet under herself. She had red toenails and very nice ankles.

“Does he talk?” I asked.

“No.”

“Too bad. I bet he’d make a hell of a witness.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. How long have you been Miss Harper’s attorney?”

“About five years.”

“How did that come about?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. Occupational hazard. But it must be public knowledge.”

“It is public knowledge. I handled some legal work for Ashleigh related to her will and finances, and we became very good friends. She has no family and came to rely on me for just about everything. I’m afraid the outside world is a bit much for her. She did not handle fame well. She wanted me to protect her privacy, and, with a few exceptions, I have.”

“That luncheon being one of them.”

“Yes. The publisher insisted. But it was a trial for Ashleigh.”

“There may be more.” I said.

Sandy Nidus gave me a strange look.   

“You said you are looking for Miss Dickson,” she finally said. “Do you think she is on Bald Head?”

“I don’t know. But I know for certain she came back here to see Ashleigh Harper sometime early in the fall, and I’m pretty sure she returned more recently.”

“Really?”

She seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Yes. She wrote her brother about the fall visit, and in the letter she indicated that she was coming back.”

“She should have contacted me. I handle all of Miss Harper’s affairs. I could have saved her the trouble of coming. As we made quite clear when we all met the first time, Ashleigh does not receive visitors. The book luncheon was a rare event. A very rare event.”

“So, you have not seen or heard from her?”

“I told you. She contacted me soon after the luncheon, by email. That’s the last I heard from her. If she came to Bald Head two times after the luncheon, we didn’t see her on either occasion. Are you saying she is missing?”

“Yes, for weeks.”

“How dreadful!” She seemed concerned. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you involved? I mean, I know you are a private detective, but I assumed the girl was just a casual acquaintance.”

“She mentioned me in the letter to her brother and he sought me out. He asked me to locate her.”

“What about the police?”

“They’ve had no luck.”

“I know the local police chief well,” Sandy said. “Perhaps I can make an inquiry.”

If she was acting, she was probably as good as the woman I knew to be upstairs.

“Thank you. I’ll do that myself.”

“Did Miss Dickson say anything else in her letter?”

I knew she was fishing.

“I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. Is there anything else?”

“I would like to speak to Miss Harper.”

“Why, pray tell?”

“Perhaps she saw Anna. Are you in this house 24/7?”

“Well, my office is here, now. It made more sense, especially after the publication of
The Lighthouse Chronicles
.” But I do run out, to shop and the like.”

“And to play a round of golf.”

Sandy Nidus smiled.

“Yes, you saw me at the club. I do have a life, and some other clients. I enjoy an occasional dinner with friends.”

Or a roll in the seaweed on Leonard Vole’s boat.

“Ashleigh is perfectly capable of taking care of herself for a few hours,” she added.

“Perhaps Anna Dickson came here while you were out.”

Sandy Nidus shook her head.

“I think she would have mentioned that.”

“I would still like to speak to her. Just to cover all the bases.”

Sandy Nidus didn’t say anything for a full minute. The only sounds came from the ocean, from breaking waves, and from the covered cage, where I could hear the parrot shuffling back and forth on his perch.

“Well, I don’t see the harm in it,” Nidus finally said. “Ashleigh naps a lot but I know she’s awake now. I just spoke to her about dinner. In fact, I was just going to run out to get something from the market. You don’t mind sitting with her for a while, do you?”

That took me by surprise. It was more than I had hoped for.

“Not at all,” I said.

“And I know that we are out of wine. It will give me a chance to buy some. You will stay for dinner, won’t you? I make a mean cassoulet.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Come. I’ll take you to her.”

We went up to the third floor. “Ashleigh Harper” was sitting on the deck looking at the ocean. It was cool, and she was bundled up, wearing slacks and a light ski jacket. There was a quilt covering her legs.

“Ashleigh, this is Mr. Rhode. You remember him. He was at your luncheon back in August. He’s staying for dinner and wants to chat with you while I go to the store.”

The old woman narrowed her eyes and looked startled. Sandy Nidus left.

CHAPTER 21 - LIGHTS OUT

I leaned against the deck’s railing and smiled down at the old woman.

“I take it that you don’t get many visitors,” I said.

She shook her head.

“No. My health is not what it used to be. Who are you, again?”

“My name is Alton Rhode? The question is, who are you?”

She looked startled. And a bit wary.

“I am Ashleigh Harper,” she said.

It sounded to me like she was exaggerating her Southern accent. I smiled.

“I’m afraid that won’t fly anymore, Bessie.”

She didn’t reply right away. Finally she said, “Shit.”

“And it’s getting very deep, Bessie.”

“You a cop?”

“Private. But the real fuzz won’t be far behind.”

Her hand went below the quilt. I didn’t expect her to come out with a gun, but my own hand drifted toward my holster. I figured I could beat an octogenarian woman to the draw. And if I couldn’t, then I deserved to be shot by an octogenarian woman. But when her liver-spotted hand reemerged, it merely held a pack of cigarettes and a pink Bic lighter.

“I need a damn drink, too,” she said, this time without a trace of an accent. “There’s a bottle of Jack Daniels in the drawer by my bed. A glass, too. And an ashtray. Do you mind?”

I went and found her stash. By the time I got back to the porch, she was smoking like a chimney. I poured her a drink. She knocked back half of it. It was obvious she wasn’t your typical octogenarian, which made me wonder if I could really have beaten her to the draw.

“I don’t know where my manners are,” she said. “There’s another glass in the bathroom.”

“Maybe later. I thought you were a scotch drinker.”

“I like to vary. What made you say that?”

“Anna Dickson said you drank scotch when she was here.”

“Who?”

“Young girl who was with me at that book signing in August. She came back here some weeks later and spoke to you. You gave her a drink and she left quickly when someone came home.”

Bessie Magruder lit another cigarette.

“I remember her. Nice kid. I’m glad she didn’t stick around. I think she was suspicious. I was running out of lies. Is she why you are here?”

“She’s missing.”

Bessie’s eyes widened in surprise. I didn’t think she was acting.

“Since she came to see me?”

“No. She came back later.”

“I never saw her again, after that first visit. She came here when Sandy was out, or she would never have gotten in. I shouldn’t have even spoken to her. But I was going stir crazy and she seemed so sweet.”

“Did you tell Sandy about her visit?

“No. She would have gone ape on me. I can’t believe the kid tried to come back. It was blind luck she got to see me that first time.”

“If you’re telling the truth Bessie, I think her luck ran out. My guess is that she contacted Nidus with her suspicions, or she tried to get here again on her own and they spotted her. Either way, no one has seen her since. I think they killed her, too.”

The “too” rocked her.

“Bessie, surely you don’t think Ashleigh Harper is still alive, do you?”

She finished her drink and held out the glass. I poured.

“I don’t know. They put her in a nursing home. She may have died since.”

“Bessie, this isn’t the kind of scam that works with someone still breathing. And I don’t think Anna Dickson is in a nursing home. Surely you must have suspected something.”

Magruder looked away. When she faced me again, she shrugged.

“I needed the money. There ain’t much work for an old has-been actress.”

I could have pointed out that she couldn’t claim to be a has-been when she never was a “has”, but I let it go.

“How did Nidus find you?”

“Sandy saw me at a dinner theater in Myrtle Beach. I was playing Martha Brewster, one of the nutty old aunts in
Arsenic and Old Lace
. Good part. One of the best I’ve had in years. Anyway, she came back a few weeks later and asked me if I’d be interested in a private gig. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but she offered me more money than I make in a year and said if everything worked out, I’d be set for the rest of my life. No more scrounging for parts in the boondocks. I took one look at Harper and knew I could pull it off. We could have been sisters.”

“You know it is a fraud, don’t you?”

“Don’t talk to me about fraud! My whole career I’ve had to struggle against crooks and shysters. It was who you knew and who you blew.” She laughed harshly. “That don’t work for me at my age. Besides, the real Harper was being stupid. And selfish. Who gives a damn if what she wrote years ago was crap. People would buy it. We’d make a ton of money. Everybody would be happy. I didn’t see the real harm in it. You read the papers. You know what’s going on in the world. The people who ruined the economy get bailed out by the Government. I don’t see any of them getting into trouble or going to jail.”

I didn’t want to get into a political discussion with her, in part because she was making some sense. My job was to get justice for Anna Dickson.

“Who else is in on this?”

“Vole. I don’t think it was his idea. He ain’t that bright. But Sandy has him by the short hairs. Jesus, I can hear them screwing all the time.”

I’d suspected Vole. He was the killer in the woodpile.

“Bessie, if you come with me now, and tell the truth, I may be able to help you. If not, I go to the cops, who won’t be so accommodating. They will probably charge you as an accessory to murder, fraud and probably plagiarism. I wouldn’t worry about the plagiarism. There’s a lot of that going around. But the other two charges will probably land you in jail for life. At your age, I don’t think you want to waste your golden years making license plates, although at least the work would be original.”

“What are you talking about? Murder? I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I didn’t say you did. But I’m not sure how involved you are.”

“I told you, I just made believe I was Harper. It was just a role.”

“That’s the point. You’re an actress. I can’t be sure you aren’t acting now. But even if you are, don’t you want to be the first one through the door at the prosecutors’ office. They will cut you a deal, maybe even offer immunity for your testimony. I don’t think anyone will believe you actually killed someone. And there is something else. Nidus knows this thing is unraveling. You’re the only one who can hang both her and Vole. You’re a liability, lady, no matter how you look at it.”

Bessie Magruder’s face lost a bit of color.

“I don’t think Sandy would hurt me.”

She reached for another cigarette, and that’s when I saw it. I grabbed her wrist.

“Where did you get this?”

She heard the menace in my voice and shrank back.

“Vole gave it to me.” She tried to pull her hand back. “You’re hurting me!”

I ignored her and undid the watch that had caught my eye. It was the pink-and-blue Disney watch from
Frozen
.

“Let’s go,” I said, coldly.

Bessie Magruder started to say something but she saw something in my face. She stood up and started to follow me. I stepped through the sliders. Sandy Nidus was standing across the room by the door to the hallway. I briefly wondered if she planned to give me any trouble. Bessie stopped short and said, “Oh, Christ”.

“Don’t worry,” I said, turning to take her arm.

That’s when I saw Leonard Vole standing against the wall to my right. I’d never heard him. Maybe he was wearing gumshoes. I reached for my revolver. Vole was no octogenarian. I caught a brief glimpse of something long and brown swinging at my head.