5 Alive After Friday (17 page)

Martin, who had been sitting quietly listening to
Sandy’s side of the conversation, abruptly straightened in his chair.

Ryan said, “Yes, that’s where you’re from isn’t it?”

“What’s this about a murder in Park Beach?” She
had trouble getting the words out. “You mean the shooting of my friend?”

Martin jumped out of his chair and was now waving
his hands. He started writing something.

Ryan said, “No, I just found out about that
myself. She meant some other murder, I guess. Said I shouldn’t get involved. That’s
all she said about it.”

Martin was now shaking the note in her face. WHAT
ARE HER HOURS?

“Ryan...uh...hold on.” She shrugged at the note,
and said, “What are her hours?”

“Whose hours?” Ryan asked. “You mean Gail...at the
mall? She works the day shift, nine-thirty to six. Been there a long time—has
seniority.”

Sandy repeated the hours and looked at Martin who
nodded.

When she had thanked him and hung up, he said, “Did
he say what I think he said about a murder in Park Beach?”

“Yeah. How does Gail know about the murder of Boyd?
We told no one except Dominic.”

“Maybe Gail is Jane,” he observed. “After all, she
did end up with the money.”

“That money might not be ours. Ryan said she just
settled a lawsuit against her husband’s estate, and that’s where her money came
from. I’m going to check that out...see if there was such a lawsuit and whether
she won.”

“Do you trust this Ryan?”

“I suppose I do. He’s a hard-working, moral guy
who tried to stand by his cheating wife until the end. Now his business is
ruined and he must start over. He did upscale landscaping for commercial
properties, mainly condos. Probably pretty good, had a great business. Why do
you ask?”

“And you’re positive he didn’t shoot her.”

“Martin, he’s one of the good guys. Why?”

“Maybe I can throw some business his way. Do you
have his card?”

She fumbled through her briefcase and found the
card. “That would be nice of you.”

“I’m going down there to talk with her,” he said.

“You? Gail?”

“She won’t talk with you, so I’m going. I’ll meet
her and get her talking. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“That’s what General Custer said.” Still not too
bad of an idea, she thought. “Oh, I get it. That’s why you wanted to know the
hours she works.”

“Sure. I’ll follow her home. If she stops someplace,
I’ll follow her in and start talking with her.”

“And she’s going to talk with you?”

“Most women would.”

“I admire your confidence, and I’m sure she’ll say
something to you. But it won’t be a confession about how she pulled off a kidnapping
and extortion, not to mention a murder,” she said. “What if she doesn’t stop
anyplace going home?”

“Then I’ll go to her condo and make up a story,
have the guard phone her and inform her that she ran into my car...or something,”
he said.

“I must admit you’re catching on. Nevertheless, we
know almost nothing about the woman and you’re going down there to get
sensitive information out of her? Ryan says she was critical of Myra cheating
on him, yet she wanted to hear every sexy detail of the affair. That sounds a
little quirky. And we don’t know if she’s a hot number or a religious fanatic.
Could be dangerous. Could be a murderer, you know. She spots your license plate,
sees that you’re from Park Beach, decides things are getting too hot and leaves
you in a ditch.”

“Danger is my middle name,” he quipped.

“Without question, you
are
sweetly
dangerous around women, but that’s not the benign danger I’m talking about.
I’ve noticed you’ve no problem interacting with women. You seem to have
mastered the laws of attraction.”

He chuckled, “You exaggerate, but nevertheless I’m
flattered that you’ve taken the time to study me.”

“Oh, I’ve studied you.” Much more than he’d ever
realize. “You project an aura of honesty that women are quick to pick up on. As
soon as they realize you’ve no guile, they shed their defenses and usually
anything else you’d like them to shed. In short, there’s a wide spectrum of
womanhood awaiting you out there, even though you’ve no desire to pursue any of
them.”

“Nonsense, only the last part of your statement is
true.”

She was certain he could become friendly with Gail
Holman, but would it be a waste of time? “She’ll be reluctant to pour her heart
out to you, if she’s trying to hide the fact that she just murdered someone and
stole four hundred grand. And if she believes you’re on to her, she’ll simply
shoot you and claim you were stalking her.”

She hoped that in exercising his newly found
spirit of adventure, he didn’t lose all the delightful soft edges of his
personality “I don’t know, Martin, you’re a clever fellow, maybe going down might
be a good idea. Wait until Monday and I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need you down there. I just wish this investigative
work didn’t require having to lie to get information out of people.”

“Of course, you’ll have to lie to her, or lie with
her to get her talking. Maybe both.”

“I trust you’re jesting. I’ve no intention of adding
seduction to my ever-increasing repertoire of investigative techniques.”

“If your objective were to simply go down there
and seduce her, I wouldn’t worry about you,” she laughed. “But even if you
soften her up with romance, you can’t interrupt one of her spasms of passion
and ask if she’s guilty. Invariably, you need to use some kind of deception to
get information out of someone who doesn’t want to give it.”

“I’ve been watching you in action. I have your act
down pretty well. I’ll put a move on her and she won’t know what hit her.”

“Before you put that move on her, be sure to run
your hand under her pillow and check for a gun.”

A
fter
a brief detour back to his house to exchange his business suit for and a cream-colored
linen sport shirt, khaki dress pants and a tan linen sport jacket, Martin drove
the two hours south to the Gardens Mall in Palm Beach Gardens—an attractive
complex of upscale merchandisers with vast interconnecting walkways. Gail
Holman, Ryan Cramer’s sister, worked there at the mall Concierge desk.

Gail had mentioned a Park Beach murder to her
brother. Where had that come from? From the start, she had refused to talk with
Sandy about any of the happenings, which was suspicious in itself. Martin was confident
she’d talk with him, if she believed he was a total stranger. He intended to go
beyond that. He intended to be the
perfect
stranger. He considered learning
something useful about the murder worth taking the chance of any possible
danger.

He arrived shortly before five o’clock, drove to
the back of the huge building and located the parking area near the secondary entrance.
He had the vehicle registration information on her and quickly located her
green Ford in one of the first parking spaces near the rear entrance as he’d
expected. Ryan had said his sister worked the day shift, nine-thirty to six; and
since the mall didn’t open until ten o’clock, arriving employees would have
their choice of parking.

He parked away from her car in the area between
Saks Fifth Avenue and Bloomingdale’s. He walked in the rear entrance and raised
his eyes; the vast mall had two shopping levels under a four-story high
ceiling. He noted from the Mall Directory that the Concierge desk was located far
to his right inside the main entrance, in the center of the walkway near
Abercrombie and Finch. As he neared the walkway running from the front
entrance, he looked again at the photo on her driver’s license printout.

Ahead in the center of the wide intersecting
aisles was the semi-circular Concierge desk. Gail was talking to an older
couple and was pointing to a brochure spread out in front of them. What did Gail
look like? Much better looking than her license photo and younger than he’d
expected—barely thirty, he’d guess. Long dark-brown hair and a rather pale
complexion. She seemed nice and tall but he couldn’t really tell; she might
have been standing on a box behind that counter. She also wore green hoop earrings
at least ten sizes too large, which detracted from her attractive face.

He walked up and stood waiting beside the couple. When
they left, she glanced over at Martin. “May I help you, sir?”

He put on his most pleasant look and tried to lock
eyes with her, but she looked away. He said, “I’m trying to locate the
bookstore. I don’t even find it in the Directory.” She was attractive, large
brown eyes.

“Sorry, believe it or not, no bookstore. There’s a
Barnes and Noble across the boulevard. Would you like directions?”

Of course, he’d like to stand there leaning over
close with her. Getting close to her was the entire idea. She explained the directions;
he thanked her, turned and then turned back as if having a second thought, “Those
earrings look good on you.”

He turned and walked away. That should do it, he
thought. It had brought a smile to her lips. He checked his watch, an hour to
kill before she got off work. He had a cup of coffee in the food court on the
second level and walked around, being careful not to go within sight of the
Concierge desk. At five-thirty he found a seat in the walkway just outside
Bloomingdale’s. Gail would come this way to get to her parked car.

He saw her walking toward him. She was tall and appeared
modish, now that she had taken off the company jacket and wore a tan blouse
over dark brown pants. She also wore a serious look on her face. He walked
toward her, not hurrying, just fast enough to intercept her.

When she noticed him approaching, unconsciously
she tightened her grip on her handbag. He stopped as she came close enough for
her to hear, “I decided against the bookstore. It’s my niece’s birthday and I’d
been thinking maybe a book—”

Still in her customer-service mode, she answered, “Well,
good luck, sir.”

He kept talking before she could step around him. “Actually,
I’m not certain what to get her.”

The woman remained politely halted, but didn’t
intend to pick up the conversation.

“She’s thirteen.”

“You’re asking me for a gift suggestion for a
thirteen-year-old girl?” She gave him her can’t you see I’m off duty look.

He gave her his clueless male look.

With a touch of chill in her voice, she said, “Get
her what every thirteen-year-old girl wants—a thirteen-year-old boy.”

He laughed aloud without needing to fake it. “Sharp...very
sharp,” He nodded his head in approval. He was in, he assumed. Should be all
downhill from then on. “You really have that right. She tells me about this boy
who is nice and he’s smart. She thinks about him all the time. She thinks he
loves her. And it’s true love, not just a crush, she says. She asked me if it’s
possible to find your true, lifelong love in the seventh grade. Isn’t that
sweet?”

She appeared interested and had now turned halfway
toward him.

He pushed on, “Now, how am I supposed to answer her?”
That question should pull her in closer.

“What’s happening here?” she asked.

Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that response.

“Why did you speak to me in the first place...back
two hours ago?”

This wasn’t good. She might just be wary of a
stranger. Or worse, she might be thinking the stranger was investigating her. “The
truth?” he asked.

“Is the truth within you?”

“The truth is simple. I was attracted to you. I’ll
apologize for wanting to talk with you, if you’ll apologize for attracting me.”

She rolled her eyes while shaking her head
slightly.

He watched her walk away. She walked on through
the automatic doors and stood on the curb outside facing the parking area. After
a full minute, she swiveled on her heels and came back inside. He was still
standing in the same spot. She made a little come-along wave with her hand.

“Where are you taking me?” he said when he got up
to her. That was good, give her the feeling of control.

She pointed behind him. They were standing outside
the Gardens Coffeehouse. “Want to buy me a cup of coffee?”

“Can I get a muffin in there?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Once seated with their order, he said, “A vanilla
latte every day wouldn’t be so bad.” He sensed she was beginning to relax.

“You wanted to talk with me. So, start talking,”
she said it nice and cool with no edge to her voice.

He didn’t want the discussion to go to why he
showed up where she worked, or to anything having to do with his invented
niece—because if those elements were premeditated, then they hadn’t met by
chance. Yet the conversation had to start somewhere. “You mean who I am or what
I do?” he answered.

“Yes.”

“I’m Martin Bronner and live about twenty miles
north.” He wanted her to believe it was an unplanned pickup. An accidental
meeting after work with an interesting man. A single, working girl’s day
doesn’t get much better than that. He wasn’t selling himself; he was selling
the dream. A chance affair with some nice-looking stranger was the dream she
must buy into. “But I wouldn’t mind moving down here. Not much is happening up
there. Your turn.”

“I’m Gail and I live in West Palm. You know where
I work. What do you do, when you’re not picking up women?”

He let her catch him looking at her chest. Good. She
seemed pleased that her feminine shrewdness had seen through all that nonsense
about the bookstore and the niece. She was on to his game and he’d been
unmasked. She was wrong, of course. His subterfuge had worked perfectly. As
long as she thought he was trying to pick her up, she wouldn’t be thinking he
was trying to investigate her.

The goal wasn’t to seduce her; the goal was to
solve the mysteries of Sandy’s kidnapping and extortion. He needed questions
answered, needed to get into her dark secrets, if she had any. And he didn’t
want to get out of his clothes to do it. Although attracted to her, it was her
mind he wanted into not her bed.

He noticed she had held back stating her last name;
she still didn’t entirely trust him. Yet, she was clearly into the scene now
and her latte was already half gone.

“That wasn’t really me,” he said. “I don’t know
how I got the nerve to speak to you.”

“Yes, poor little scaredy-cat you.” She seemed
quite pleased with the world just then. She stirred her drink with the straw. “So,
what do you do?”

“Investments. Mostly my own but occasionally I’ll
advise someone else.” He noticed her staring at his watch. Not one person in ten
thousand would recognize the brand, but he was certain she did. That said a lot
about her. It said she had once moved in some high-priced circles in her life.
Obviously, she’d come down since the marriage her brother had mentioned. “Right
now I’m looking for a condo. What do you like to do, when you’re not concierging?”
He hoped she’d talk about money or pick up on the condo subject and start
talking about her own situation.

She spoke briefly, about how she really liked her
job; how she liked to spend her time off; other superficial likes and dislikes.
She worked it in that she was unattached, but not necessarily looking for a
relationship. They talked further with him shifting the conversation away from
himself when necessary. He could tell she was feeling comfortable with him.

She’d just finished her drink. They both knew this
was the point where he was expected to make his move. The move he did make
surprised her.

“Well, Gail, this certainly has been enjoyable.”
He said unexpectedly pushing away from the table. “I’m glad we got together, if
only for a few minutes. I hope I’ll see you again.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Getting to this
point had been so gradual she couldn’t have expected such an abrupt ending. Wasn’t
everything progressing nicely? None of it fit into her preconceived notions. What
was he doing? He hadn’t even asked for her number.

At this point, he knew that she could offer her
number to him. She could suggest they go somewhere else and continue becoming
acquainted. Or she could say goodbye. He had given her several acceptable outs
to avoid embarrassment.

If she gave him her number unasked for, she’d be
quite surprised it wasn’t a brush-off when he
did
phone her the next
day. If she suggested going somewhere else, it meant her thinking had jumped
ahead to sex. If she said goodbye, she’d be delighted when he showed up the
next day at the Concierge desk. There was nothing for her to say no to; he
hadn’t asked anything of her.

He didn’t move. The decision was hers. He waited.