Nightmares Can Be Murder (A Dream Club Mystery) (17 page)

“It’s not that simple. Kevin has a history, and he wouldn’t want anyone scrutinizing him too carefully. He and Chico were alike in a lot of ways, always looking for a way to make easy money, a quick score.” She tossed an apologetic look at Ali. “I’m sorry to say this, Ali, I don’t know how much you really knew about him. Chico was a chameleon; he could be whatever you wanted him to be. He fooled a lot of people.” Gina gave a wistful smile, and I found myself wondering if she and Chico had been lovers at some point.

“I probably was naïve when it came to Chico, especially when I first moved to Savannah,” Ali admitted with a sad little smile. “He was always so charming”—she closed her eyes for a moment—“that it was easy to overlook the evidence that was right in front of me.” She sat up straighter and tightened her jaw. “But all that’s in the past. Nothing you can tell me about Chico will hurt me, Gina, so please tell us everything you know.”

As I listened to Gina, I realized Chico was more manipulative and cunning than I’d realized. He wasn’t just a rat with women; he scammed business partners, cheated investors, hid taxable income, and generally ran a shady operation. I’d originally thought a scorned lover (or an angry spouse) had been responsible for Chico’s death. But now I realized that the pool of potential suspects had widened.

It sounded like anyone who’d ever had business dealings with Chico might be out for revenge, and I hoped the police would home in on them. But would they? The department was short staffed, and Ali and I would have to do whatever sleuthing we could—with Sara and Noah’s help—to solve the case.

“Do we know for sure this was Kevin driving the car in the surveillance tape?” Gina asked as she gathered up her things to leave.

She made a good point. The image from the traffic camera showed a bearded man, but it was too grainy to prove that it was Kevin. I suppose it was possible that he loaned his car to someone or had even sold the car. I’d have to ask Noah to look into that.

“We don’t know for sure,” I conceded. I was considering what our next move should be when Gina jumped in.

“You know what we should do?” She tapped the computer screen with her long blood-red fingernail. “We could show this photo around town. Savannah’s a small place. If Kevin was back, it’s likely someone saw him. He must have booked a hotel room, eaten out, had a few drinks at a bar, made his way around town. If you really want to find out more about Kevin, I’d do some legwork.” She smiled and headed for the stairs. “Keep me posted,” she said solemnly. “I want to see Chico’s killer caught. He had his faults, but he didn’t deserve to die.” Her voice wobbled a little on the last word, and I was convinced that she was genuinely mourning him.

“She’s right, you know,” Ali said, the minute Gina left. “I have some errands to do, and Dana’s handling the store. Do you want to come with me? We can print out a few copies of the photo and bring it with us.”

“Good thinking.” She looked pensive, and I knew something was bothering her. She drained the last of the coffee from her cup and rinsed it at the sink, with her back to me. Her shoulders looked tense and her head was bowed. “Ali, is something wrong?”

She turned slowly to face me, twisting the dish towel in her hand. “This sounds really crazy”—she gave an abashed little smile—“but I’ve think I’ve seen Kevin Moore before.”

“You have?” I was so startled, I stood up too quickly, nearly catapulting Barney out of my lap. He gave an indignant squawk and I grabbed him just in time, cuddling him next to me as I slid back into my seat. “Do you mean he’s here in Savannah?”

“Not exactly,” she hedged, licking her lips nervously “But I’m pretty sure I saw him right here in the shop.” She gestured to the stairs leading to the store.

“When was this?” I wondered why she hadn’t mentioned recognizing Kevin Moore when Gina was here.

“Last night.”

My hand froze on my coffee cup, and a cold ball formed in the pit of my stomach.

“You mean—”

“I mean I saw him in the dream I told you about,” she said in a rush. “He was the bearded man who walked into the shop.” The cold ball in my stomach squeezed tighter. “I’m sure of it.”

“Let’s head out,” I said, grabbing my purse and the photo. I told myself that it was impossible, it had to be a coincidence. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that overtook me or the goose bumps that sprang up on my arms. “It’s probably nothing, you know,” I said lightly. “One bearded man looks like another.”

“Do you really think so?” Ali asked, her tone serious.

My mouth was dry and I swallowed hard. “Yes, I do, but let’s go into town and show this picture around. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better.”

20

Before heading into town, we made a quick visit to Lucinda’s house to drop off a tray of assorted chocolates for her weekly bridge game. Lucinda lives in an adorable cottage south of the Historic District, and she welcomed us with fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon buns and iced tea. I was eager to start showing Kevin’s picture around the local haunts, but Southerners take their hospitality seriously and I didn’t want to offend her. Plus the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen were so tantalizing, I was practically salivating. I had skipped out without breakfast, and my stomach gave a low growl of anticipation.

“Why don’t we sit in the sunroom,” Lucinda said, indicating a lovely octagonal room filled with tropical plants.

“This is gorgeous,” Ali murmured. “It used to be screened in, didn’t it?”

“Yes, and then I had it glassed in, and added heat and air-conditioning last year when I retired from the Academy. But on a day like this, I prefer to use the screens and enjoy the warm air. I find it so relaxing to sit out here, my own little oasis. It’s good for the soul to be surrounded by plants and flowers.”

She glanced out at her well-tended garden, filled with trailing bougainvillea, delicate pink and white roses, sunny daylilies, snowy daisies, and lush beds of impatiens. A small fountain bubbled in the shade of a magnolia tree, and the air was rich with the smell of honeysuckle.

“That it is,” Ali agreed.

“Is there anything new about Chico and how he died?” Lucinda asked after a moment. I was wondering how to broach the subject, and I was relieved she brought it up first.

Ali took Kevin’s photo out of her purse and passed it to her. “There might be a suspect in the case. Does he look familiar to you? He was spotted on security tapes.”

Lucinda looked at the photo and gave a delicate shudder. “No, I’ve never seen him before,” she said quietly. “He looks like a thug.” She started to pass the photo back to Ali but I stopped her. I noticed her hand was trembling.

“Take another look,” I said quickly. “Please,” I urged her. “It could be important. His name is Kevin Moore. Have you ever seen him around town? Or anywhere?”

“I’m afraid not,” Lucinda said with a thin smile. She pushed the photo away from her as if it were radioactive. One side of her mouth twitched in a nervous spasm, and I noticed she was clasping her hands a little too tightly in her lap. “You said he’s a suspect. Is he local?”

Ali told her what we had learned from Gina. I had the feeling Lucinda knew more than she was letting on, but she kept her expression bland, maintaining her composure. She was hiding something, but what?

“So how was the dinner at the Waltons?” Lucinda asked, deftly changing the subject.

“It was wonderful,” Ali gushed. “What a place. Did you ever go back to that same dream, Lucinda? The one about dancing in a ballroom with a man with no face?”

“I’ve never had that dream again,” Lucinda said slowly, “and maybe it’s just as well.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. “Some things are better left unexplored,” she said quietly.

“The mansion in your dream sounded a lot like the Waltons’ place,” I piped up. “Did you ever investigate that further?” I remembered that Lucinda had mentioned she was going to look for some old photos of the mansion, when it was the Collier estate, and see if it resembled the ballroom in her dream.

“I did,” she said, brightening. “I found some wonderful photos from the Historical Society and copied them. It’s quite amazing. The frescoes and the French doors are exactly like I pictured them in my dream. And the fountain, too. It was remarkable—everything was identical, down to the tiniest detail. I’ll have to remember to share that at the next meeting of the Dream Club.”

“These rolls are delicious,” I said after a moment. I smiled at Lucinda. She was leaning back on the settee and seemed more relaxed now that we weren’t talking about the photo. “I bet they’re made from scratch.”

“Why, yes, they are,” she said, beaming. “Sour cream is the secret ingredient. It’s one of my great-aunt’s favorites; it’s been in the family for years. Would you like the recipe?”

“I’d love it!” Ali said, enthused. “Taylor and I were talking about expanding the shop and offering coffee and desserts. This would be a wonderful addition to the menu. If you’d allow it, of course.”

“Why, I’d be honored.” Lucinda said. “I’m putting all my recipes in a computer file, and I just printed out some copies of the cinnamon roll recipe for the bridge club.” A bell dinged from inside the house, and Lucinda glanced at her watch and jumped up. “I need to check on my blueberry muffins.” She gestured to a glass-topped table in the far corner of the sunroom. “You’ll find some copies of the cinnamon roll recipe right there next to the computer. Just help yourself; I made plenty.”

Lucinda bustled off to the kitchen, and I crossed to the glass-topped table for the recipe. The laptop was open and I accidentally jostled it. The screen sprang to life, and what I saw made my heart skip a beat. Lucinda had logged in to a members-only section of an online dating service called Find Your Mate, and it was open to her home page. Horrified, I glanced at her online profile and winced at a rather unflattering headshot and quickly closed the screen. Lucinda and an online dating service? As Ali would say, who knew? The wren-like woman with the quick nervous mannerisms was full of surprises. I could hardly wait to tell Ali.

*   *   *

“You look like
the cat that swallowed the canary,” Ali said as soon we got outside. We headed north toward Forsythe Square, and the noonday sun was filtering through the banyan trees lining the sidewalk. We’d decided to have an early lunch at a little family-run place on Henry Street that has some of the best crab bisque in town.

“I have something to tell you,” I began. “And you’re going to find it a little shocking.”

“The cinnamon rolls weren’t really homemade and they came out of a can?” Ali joked.

“No, the cinnamon rolls are the real deal. But back at Lucinda’s, I saw something on the computer screen that rattled me a little.” Ali raised her eyebrows and shot me a questioning glance. “Shy little Lucinda is looking for a man—online.”

“No! Lucinda? I can’t believe it,” Ali said and started to giggle. “Please tell me you’re kidding.” I told her about the dating site I’d discovered on the computer. “There has to be some other explanation. Maybe she was checking it out for someone else.”

“’Fraid not,” I said. “I saw her profile page with her photo. She was wearing a navy blazer with a crisp white blouse and looked rather stern. Exactly like a headmistress. I don’t think she’s going to have many takers with that picture.”

“Oh dear, that’s probably the same photo in the Academy yearbook. It’s dreadful. I wish she had confided in me. I could have helped her with hair and makeup, you know, made her look a little more approachable. And maybe I could have introduced her to someone, so she didn’t have to go on one of those awful dating sites.”

I shook my head. “Lucinda would be horrified if she thought you knew about this. Please don’t mention it to her, Ali. You mustn’t breathe a word.”

Ali’s lips twitched and then she snapped them shut like a turtle and turned an imaginary key. “My lips are sealed,” she said with a grin.

We settled in a booth at the Back Burner Grille just in time to see Persia coming in the front door. I remembered that Persia worked as a paralegal at a real estate office nearby, and the restaurant was popular with Savannah lawyers. I felt like I’d stepped into a
Matlock
episode when I saw a group of men at the neighboring table. They all had silver hair and were wearing seersucker suits, talking animatedly over their mason jars of sweet tea and generous platters of chicken potpie.

“Can I join you?” Persia asked, giving a wide smile. “I’m taking a quick lunch break, so I’m just going to have a bowl of soup and run.” She slid into the booth next to Ali. “Have you been out shopping?”

“Something like that.” I smiled.
Shopping for a suspect
, I thought to myself. I dug Kevin Moore’s photo out of my purse. “You haven’t seen this guy around town, have you?”

Persia wore red-framed cat glasses, which dangled elegantly from a chain around her neck. She perched her glasses on her nose and squinted at the photo. “Nope, never. But if he’s in Savannah, Marlene will know.”

“Marlene?”

“One of the best waitresses in town. She’s got such a following, they mention her in the local guide books. Show her the picture when she takes our order. I bet she can help you out.” Persia glanced briefly at the menu and then looked at us, brimming with excitement. “Have I got some news for you!” she said.

“Good or bad news?” A frown flitted across Ali’s face.

“That depends on who you are,” Persia said mysteriously. She had our complete attention and was enjoying every second of it. “I learned something very interesting. It has to do with our friend Chico, and it came as a huge surprise to me. In fact, it’s something of a shock.”

“You learned something from a dream?” Ali asked.

Persia waved her hand in the air as if she were swatting a fly. “Not in a dream, honey. This is the real thing. I learned it from the law office.” She leaned forward across the table. “I was researching some real estate records, and I discovered that Chico was planning on buying up practically an entire block of buildings. On
your
block,” she said, nodding at Ali. “You would have been out in the cold if he’d stayed alive, sweetie, and that’s the truth.”

“Yes, I know,” Ali said sadly.

“You’ve already heard?” Persia looked astounded. “Hardly anyone knows about this. I’m curious—how did you ladies find out?” She looked disappointed, as if someone had stolen her thunder.

“We heard a rumor,” I said quickly. There was no need to tell Persia what we knew or didn’t know; my main interest was ferreting out as much information as I could from her. “How did you discover this, Persia?”

“It was just plain dumb luck.” Persia tapped a manicured nail on the tablecloth. “I picked up a wrong file by mistake. That’s when I discovered that Chico planned on buying up the whole block and selling all the buildings to some real estate developer.”

“But they wouldn’t be worth much,” Ali objected. “Most of the buildings are really run down. Chico’s studio was probably one of the nicest places, and the outside wasn’t much to look at.”

“But Chico had a plan. The developer was going to get some money from the state for ‘gentrification.’ That way, he could receive funding to rehab the buildings, turn them into B and B’s, and attract tourists who were looking for a little charm in a downtown location. Close to all the sights with all the comforts of home. Southern charm at a reasonable price. It was genius, sheer genius.”

“But you say Chico was going to buy them up? Where would he get the money?”

Persia bit her lips, her eyes thoughtful. “Now that’s the part I can’t figure out. I don’t see how he could have had that kind of money to invest. Do you suppose he was doing something illegal? Or had some source of income that nobody knew about?”

“Like what?” Ali asked.

“I don’t know, I’m stumped. That’s the part of the story that doesn’t make sense.” Persia gave a little sigh. “Where’s Marlene? She always covers this table.” She glanced worriedly at her watch. “I hate to eat and run, ladies, but duty calls. If she doesn’t show up soon—”

“Hold your horses, Persia, I’m right here.” A large woman in a crisp pink uniform appeared at the table like a genie out of a bottle. She grinned at Persia and whipped out a pad. “Can I get you the usual, hon?”

“Just the crab bisque today, please,” Persia said. “No time for a panini.”

“What about the lemon pie?” Marlene winked at us. “It sells out real quick, but I always hold back a few pieces for my favorite customers.”

“Well, in that case, you tempted me. But please make the pie to go, Marlene. I’ll eat the soup here and save the pie for back at the office.”

We quickly gave our orders, and before Marlene darted away, I whipped out Kevin’s photo. “Any chance you’ve seen this guy before?”

“She never forgets a face,” Persia offered. “Take a real good look, Marlene.”