Suspicion of Madness (16 page)

"Lois and I don't fight openly. We used to, but Martin couldn't stand it. He told her, 'Don't make me choose between you and my wife.' So she shut up about me. Now she's going after Billy. It was Lois who let Kyle know that Billy was in the hospital. It's obvious why she did it, to cause trouble. Her life was perfect until Billy and I showed up. She told Martin not to marry me because I only wanted his money, which was a filthy lie.

"I try not to bother Martin with this. He was so good when they arrested Billy four years ago. You know about it, don't you? It was an accident, but Anthony told us to go ahead and pay the owners of the house and tell them we were sorry it happened. Anthony saved Billy from going to prison, but now they suspect him of murder. I keep wondering, when will Martin decide it's enough? If he sent Billy away, I'd have to go too. I would.

"I have to remind myself, it's going to be all right. It has to. You and Anthony and Dr. Vogelhut will take care of Billy, the resort will reopen for business, and everything will be wonderful. Do you know it hasn't been twenty-four hours since all this happened? My head is spinning. I'm going to check on Billy, then maybe take a nap. I'd love to have you and Anthony join us for dinner, but we wouldn't be good company, I'm afraid."

"No, we couldn't anyway," Gail said. "We have to see Joan Sinclair tonight."

"What about tomorrow? We'll be recovered by then." Teri put her arm through Gail's. "May I ask Arnel to take you to Joan's house? You don't want to lose your way in the dark."

"We'd appreciate it, thanks." Gail said, "Arnel is a funny guy. I can't figure him out."

"Yes, I know what you mean," Teri said. "At first, I thought he was, well—" She touched the side of her head. "But he isn't. He's just very quiet. Plus the little problem with his speech. I don't even notice it anymore. He works hard and keeps to himself. I never worry about him around the guests. He's very smart. He fixes the engines and helps Martin with the palm trees. When he was a boy he lived on a farm."

"Indiana," Gail remembered.

"Arnel came here because of Joan Sinclair. That's the truth! He has every one of her movies. He found out where she was, and he hitchhiked all the way and begged us to give him a job so he could be near his favorite movie star."

"I think she takes advantage," Gail said. "He says she doesn't pay him."

"That I don't know about, but we pay him, and he stays in the caretaker's cottage for nothing. He can eat in the kitchen anytime he wants to. Don't feel bad about Arnel. He's very happy here."

Nearing the hotel, Teri led Gail through a gate in a wall of antique brick that seemed to be held up only by the banyan tree whose roots had dropped down over it like melting wax. Inside was the back entrance to the kitchen. A cart path entered through wide gates and ended in a circle. Men from the supply boat were carrying boxes and crates into a concrete-block storeroom. Cases of liquor and wine; boxes of linens and paper goods; new mattresses and rattan dining chairs still in their plastic wrap. There was no white clapboard here; this wasn't part of the fantasy.

Teri pointed to the gates. "If you go that way, you get to the main road. Your cottage is just a little bit farther."

"Thanks. We'll see you tomorrow," Gail said.

"Wait a minute, I want to tell you something." Teri walked her toward the gates, away from the men unloading the boxes. "It's about Joan. Do you want to hear it?"

"All right."

"I was in love with Martin, but I wasn't going to say so. I was nobody, one of the girls who cleaned the rooms. I could see that he noticed me, but he was so… so
American
. So proper. One day I took some mail over to Joan Sinclair—I used to do that for her—and she said, 'What's eating you?' So I told her, and I started to cry. She fixed me a martini—I hate martinis, but I drank it, and she said to tell Martin that I loved him so much that I had walked out on my husband, and what was he going to do about it? Joan told me, 'A woman who ain't got the brass won't get her man.' I said no way could I do that. But a week or two went by, and one day I went to Martin's office. I closed the door behind me and said I was going to leave my husband for him, and if he wanted to marry me, okay, but if not, I was in love with him anyway, and I would sleep with him."

Teri laughed. "My God, the look on his face! He had to sit down. He said he felt the same, but he didn't believe I could love a man so much older, and with a bad heart. I said, 'No, you have a good heart, the best.' It's so crazy, isn't it? Joan came to our wedding. It was here at the hotel. She sat in the back and left before the reception. Nowadays we don't see her at all. I wish she had married Tom. They would have been happy together."

Saying good-bye, Teri gave Gail a warm embrace. "You and Anthony shouldn't wait too long. Things happen, you know."

The hotel staff had left a little gold box of chocolates on the nightstand. Gail took the box and her cell phone out onto the front porch and propped her bare feet on the railing. She bit into a mocha cream just as the phone was picked up on the other end.

"Hi, Mom, it's me. What's new?"

Her mother asked why she was calling again the same day. Was something wrong?

"Nothing's wrong, we're having a wonderful time. In fact, I'm sitting here with my feet up, looking at the water and eating Go- diva chocolates and thinking very hard about getting down to work…. Anthony's not here at the moment. If he were, I wouldn't get
anything
done…. I called to ask if you'd seen the weather report. Looks like it might rain all weekend. I wonder if the Biscayne Bay clean-up has been canceled. Could you call Karen's school for me and find out? They would know, wouldn't they?"

Irene said she had already called. If the clean-up was canceled, the children from Karen's school, along with their chaperones, would be sent instead to Camillus House to make sandwiches for the homeless.

"Oh, damn…. No, it's just that I was hoping to stay over till Saturday afternoon. Mother, I wonder if you could possibly—"
 

No. So sorry, but no. There was an appointment at ten to have her hair done. Then a luncheon for Friends of the Opera. Then she wanted to visit Verna, who'd gone into the hospital again, and it didn't look good this time—
 

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. Poor Verna."

A thought flashed into Gail's head. Karen could sleep over with Molly Perlmutter on Friday. Molly's mother was one of the volunteer mothers, too, and she wouldn't mind taking Karen. The girls were best friends. And if Irene could just drop Karen off at Molly's house—

Guilt slammed the door on that idea. Gail took her feet off the railing and put the chocolates aside. She told her mother to please give Verna her love, and tell Karen she'd call her later.
 

"I'll be home Friday night. Love you."

10

Anthony Quintana stood on the Buttonwood dock waiting for Thomas Holtz to answer the question just put to him. The old man's mouth was tight with indignation. He glared from behind his clip-on sunglasses.

"I was in the neighborhood, so I stopped by her apartment to say hello. What kind of crime is that? If you're implying I killed her, I resent the hell out it."

"You were not 'in the neighborhood,'" Anthony said. "You were parked outside her apartment waiting for her to come home. Listen. I'm trying to save Billy Fadden's skin. Who would you rather talk to, me or the police?"

Holtz slung his picnic hamper into his boat. Sun had dulled the fiberglass finish, and mildew spotted the seat cushions. "I never touched her in a sexual way. Hell, I never touched her in a
non
sexual way."

"What did you do with her?"

"Nothing! We did nothing." His voice faded. "She—She let me look at her."

After a pause, Anthony said, "Without her clothes on." Holtz nodded. "You gave her money for this."

"Yes."

"How long had you and she... had this relationship?"

Holtz passed a hand over his forehead. "I don't know. Three years. Except for when Joan and I were together."

"How did it start?"

"My wife was dying. Sandra... it was a little joke. I gave her some money and said... I said, 'Lift up your shirt.' Holtz cleared his throat. He had shaved badly, and white hairs dappled his cheeks. "She was a waitress. It was in the parking lot behind the restaurant. We were both having a little fun."

"When did you start going to her apartment?"

"Not at first. She lived with her grandparents. Later on she got a place, but I didn't like going there. It made me nervous. Usually we sat in my car."

"Did she come to your office?"

"God, no. Not for that. She came on business for Button- wood, but Doug handles most of that, so I didn't talk to her. I didn't avoid her, I just... all that other stuff was in a different place."

"You never had intercourse with her?"

"No. Look, I never hurt the girl. I certainly didn't kill her." Holtz steadied himself with a deep breath. "The night she died I was having some drinks at Papa Joe's. Ask the bartender, he knows me."

"When was the last time you were with Sandra?"

"That time I went by her place and somebody saw us, according to you. I know who it was. Had to be whoever dropped her off. Who was it? Arnel Goode?"

"I can't say."

"It was Arnel. Wouldn't you know it? The last time I'm there, someone spots me. The last time. She let me in long enough to tell me it was over. She said she was tired of it. Well, so was I. I was tired of the money going out."

"Did she have other men?"

"Others?"

"Did she make a habit of giving sex for money?"

"It never occurred to me."

"What about a boyfriend? Billy said she was having sex with someone. Who?"

Holtz shrugged. "I don't know. We didn't discuss it."

"What about Doug Lindeman?"

"Doug?" Holtz sputtered. "No way. She was a kid. I mean... Doug has a woman in Key West he's involved with. And one in Miami. And he has his hands full with the ladies he runs into at the resorts. Doug has a full life, you might say."

"Apparently so. Sandra never mentioned being interested in anyone?"

"We never talked about personal matters. We hardly talked at all. Girls that age don't have much upstairs, do they?"

Holtz was lying, but Anthony decided not to push. He changed directions. "You were going to be the lawyer of record in the guardianship case. Why do you believe that Joan Sinclair is incompetent?"

"I never believed that, but I could see she wasn't taking care of herself. I thought we could get Joan some help, at least wake her up. I'll tell you something, Quintana. I'm living dangerously today. Doug ordered me to stay away from Joan. He didn't want me giving her a head's-up, what he was doing." Holtz laughed without humor. "It's too late now. She knows, and she's not happy."

Anthony asked if Joan Sinclair had written a will.

"Not that I know of," Holtz replied.

"A person judged incompetent can't write a will, isn't that so?"

The man's heavy white brows drew together. "If you think Doug's after her money, you're wrong. Joan doesn't have any. Her house and land go to Martin Greenwald when she dies. The money she made in Hollywood, she lost. She's not a wealthy woman. You'll see that when you meet her tonight."

"And there is no cash or jewelry hidden under her mattress?"

"It must've dropped out of the sky, then."

"What does she live on? She's too young for social security."

"There's a dribble of royalties from her movies and TV shows, about eight thousand dollars a year. Her agent sends me the checks, and I put them in her bank account. I've been doing this for Joan ever since she came back from California. When we split up—and it was her decision, not mine—she never asked me to give back her deposit slips." Tom Holtz had more to say; unsure whether to say it, he looked at Anthony awhile before he spoke.

"Joan gets some money from... oh, I guess you'd say from a trust set up by her nephew, Teddy Lindeman. His dad was killed in Vietnam. Joan and Teddy were pretty close."

Anthony remembered what Gail had told him. "Teddy Lindeman was convicted of cocaine smuggling and sentenced to federal prison. He died of lung cancer."

"That's right, this past June. He got ten years instead of twenty because he cooperated with the government. He gave me enough to take care of Joan until he got out, but there's not much left. When it's gone, it's gone. Doug doesn't know about it. No one does."

Where Teddy Lindeman had obtained the money, Anthony could guess. It had almost certainly been in the form of cash, and probably delivered in a briefcase or a gym bag. "How much did Teddy give you?"

"A hundred thousand. He told me to give her ten a year. I've been the family lawyer for a long time. Teddy trusted me to handle it properly. I mail her an accounting every quarter. I figure out her taxes. I don't charge her anything." Finally Holtz began to worry if he had said too much. "If you'd forget you heard this, I'd appreciate it."