The Pirate Ghost Page 7

  “Throwing him back so soon? Why?”

  “I don’t know where to begin, Betty, and I sure can’t do it here. Besides, you’d never believe me.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly got me interested in hearing all about it now,” Betty said. “Busy tonight?”

  “Yes. Well, actually, I don’t know if I’m busy or not. I’ll call you.”

  “Sounds fair enough.” Betty looked around, smiling. “I guess I’d better get back to the loading dock before Bentsen shows up to deliver his speech about chatting on company time. See you later.”

  “’Bye, Betty.”

  Tess watched her friend leave, wondering how she could possibly tell her all that had happened since her ocean swim. Could she just come out and say that she’d met a ghost? No, there was no explaining the situation, not even to Betty. She had a hard enough time understanding the situation herself, so how could she ever explain it?

  Tess had just resigned herself to settling into a day with Lotus when Barb Davis buzzed her with a phone call. The watch-your-back tone in Barb’s voice indicated that it was a personal call.

  “Hello. Tess Miller,” she said, trapping the receiver between her chin and shoulder as she keystroked.

  “Ah, Tess, I found you.” Charles Dumont sounded very pleased with himself. “No more than three calls, too. I should have been a detective.”

  “I’m flattered that you would go to the trouble,” she responded, smiling. The man was nothing if not persistent.

  “It’s well worth the effort,” he said. “But I do think I should be rewarded with the opportunity to take you to lunch.”

  “I had planned to brown-bag it today,” she admitted, thinking of her meager lunch of carrots and an apple. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

  “Not very much, you don’t.” Charles laughed. “You’d rather eat something from a bag than go out to lunch with me? I’m hurt.”

  “You’ll survive,” she said lightly.

  “I don’t think so. Come on, a quick bite at Molly’s won’t harm you one bit,” he insisted, naming a popular seafood restaurant nearby.

  “You seem terribly concerned with my eating habits,” Tess said. “As I recall, we have a date for dinner tomorrow evening.”

  “And you hadn’t planned to eat until then?”

  “Yes, I, oh, I suppose I can squeeze you into my schedule,” she said, relenting because of Molly’s seafood platter rather than Charles Dumont’s charms.

  She saw the policemen enter the office as she spoke. They stopped at the receptionist’s desk, talking briefly to Barb Davis. Then they turned to look directly at her.

  “Just a second, Charles,” she said. She cupped the receiver in her hand and looked at the approaching officers. “May I help you?”

  “Are you Teresa Miller?” the older of the two asked.

  “Yes. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid we have bad news,” he said. “Your ex-husband, Darrell Cage, was found dead this morning, Miss Miller. He was identified by his driver’s license, but they need you to make a positive identification.”

  “Darrell?” Tess felt a conspicuous lack of emotion at the news. In fact, she was more troubled by her lack of emotion than the fact of Darrell’s death. “How did it happen?”

  “He was stabbed,” the younger one said, seeming to take great pleasure in his words. “Repeatedly.”

  “Oh, God.”

  Now she felt something, but it wasn’t sadness for Darrell. That feeling might come later, but now, as she saw the blank accusation in the young cop’s eyes, she felt a jolt of fear. She knew who the first suspect would be once they read the transcript of their divorce hearing. The list of people who disliked Darrell Cage was fairly substantial, but she knew full well that her name would be at the head of it.

  “Could you come with us now?” the older policeman said.

  It calmed Tess somewhat to see a look of disapproval in his eyes when he looked at his partner and to hear the softer tone of his voice. “Yes, I can. Oh, excuse me a second.” Tess hurriedly spoke into the receiver again. “Charles? I’m sorry. Something has come up and I can’t go to lunch after all.”

  She had tried to keep her tone neutral and businesslike, but he sensed something in it. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “There’s a problem, isn’t there?”

  “I have to go downtown to...ah...to identify my ex-husband’s body,” she said quickly. “I don’t know what all that involves....”

  “Oh, Tess, I’m so sorry,” Charles said. “Look, I’ll run downtown and meet you. Moral support and all that stuff.”

  “That’s very kind—” she began.

  “Not at all,” he broke in. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll meet you there.”

  He hung up before she had a chance to object again, and she could only replace the receiver and stand.

  “Is there something wrong?” James Bentsen emerged from his office and approached them quickly. The look on his face said, “This interruption is costing us money.” “Teresa, what’s going on?”

  “We’ve asked Miss Miller to come with us to identify a body, sir,” the older officer said. “I don’t think it will take too long, but then there may be other formalities.”

  “A body?” Mr. Bentsen looked at Tess as though she’d just been convicted of murder. “Well, I suppose that is serious,” he told her, “but we do need the reports for this afternoon’s meeting. Can you be back in time to do them?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ll sure try.”

  “Well, I hope so,” he sniffed.

  “Should I follow you down?” she asked the policemen, ignoring her manager’s idle fretting.

  “You can ride with us,” the officer said. “We’ll bring you back when you’re finished.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  Tess left the office with the definite feeling that she wasn’t going to get the report done in tune for the meeting after all.

  During her short but tense ride in the police car, Tess couldn’t avoid the thought that she was being taken into custody rather than being driven to identify her husband’s body. And why hadn’t the police explained more? What exactly had happened? The attitude of the policemen and the way they tended to avoid making eye contact with her relayed the message that they thought her guilty. And if they thought it, how many others shared their feelings?

  And now that they had her neatly caught, what was to say they wouldn’t just keep her until they could build a case against her?

  “YES, THAT’S DARRELL.”

  Having made her identification, she turned away from the body quickly. Now she felt both shock and grief over his death. She wasn’t reduced to tears, but at least the emotions were there. Tess had been afraid that she would continue to feel nothing even after seeing him dead in the cold white room.

  “That’s all we need from you, then,” the coroner’s assistant said. Los Palmas operated in conjunction with the Tampa coroner’s office, and the man who handed her the clipboard for her signature was actually a local mortician. He was employed to do the preliminary work for the coroner when a death occurred.

  “Do they have any idea who could have done this?” Tess asked him as she signed the form.

  “Sorry, I can’t tell you much about what happened,” the man said. “I don’t do the autopsies. It does look like he might have been stabbed with a steak knife, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I can’t say for certain without further examination, but there’s evidence that he was killed with a serrated blade. That, and the width of the wound, made it look like a steak knife.”

  “Gosh, I guess I’d better go home and count my silverware,” Tess said, hoping to alleviate some of the tension with a bit of humor. When no one laughed, her own anxiety doubled. “Oh, Gabriel,” she sighed, hoping the call would work once more. She really needed some support now, and Charles hadn’t yet arrived to provide a more substan
tial shoulder to lean on.

  “What’s that?” the technician asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just a curse of sorts.”

  “A curse is it? Well, I like that, I do.” Gabriel’s laughing voice came into her ear so quickly that she jumped. “Now don’t you be leaping about like a startled deer or they’ll think you’re loony and throw away the key,” he said.

  “Is there something wrong?” the younger cop asked.

  “No, nothing. Can I go now?”

  “Be careful of that one, the younger of the two constables. He thinks you’re guilty as hell. When he came to the house, he said he thought you’d gotten ‘stiffed on alimony.”’ Gabriel was close enough that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he spoke. “Be very careful with all of them, Tess, for they’re none of them your fnends and there are things you don’t know.”

  She wanted to ask Gabriel what he meant by that, but the police were ushering her along the corridor too swiftly to find time for a whispered question. He had sounded suddenly serious, however, and it put her on her guard.

  “We’ve got a couple of questions to ask you,” the officer said. “It won’t take long. Come along upstairs with us.”

  “Get ready to run, he should say,” Gabriel said, “though I don’t imagine that’s the best plan for you at this moment. That young constable is a fine bastard, he is, but the gray-haired fellow is as much on your side as his kind is likely to get. He’s the man to deal with, not that pup.”

  “What kind of questions are they?” Tess asked the older policeman, following Gabriel’s advice as they walked to the elevator. “I don’t know much about Darrell’s whereabouts lately.”

  “We understand that.” He used one courtly hand on her elbow to guide her into the elevator. “But we need to talk to everyone who knew him, and since you’re here now, we might as well get it over with.”

  His partner followed them, turning to look curiously around before stepping into the car and allowing the doors to close. He looked confused as they rode upward and he kept rubbing his left ear.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the elder cop asked.

  “Nothing,” the young officer said quickly. “I just, well, I just felt something weird is all. It’s nothing, I guess.”

  But when Tess turned to look at the man, she could see Gabriel Dyer standing at the officer’s shoulder, happily flicking the tip of his finger at the man’s ear. Then, with a wink, Gabriel disappeared from Tess’s sight. She couldn’t stop the grin that sprang to her lips then, and had to turn to hide it.

  “That’s it, Tess. Don’t you get worried now. Keep a stout heart and I’ll see you through it.”

  Her gnn was short-lived, though. As the elevator doors opened, a scowling man in a brown suit was waiting for them.

  “Oh, good, I caught you guys,” he said. “Teresa Miller? I’m Detective Sergeant Wilkes, Los Palmas Police. I’ve got a warrant to search your premises.” He handed her a folded paper as he spoke.

  “What? I thought you just wanted to ask me some questions,” Tess protested.

  “We’ll do that while we search,” Wilkes told her. “I’ll take her from here, men,” he told the two officers.

  Tess could do nothing but meekly accompany the man along the corridor, feeling as though each step was taking her irreversibly toward a jail cell. She felt absolutely certain that, in spite of her innocence and her lack of knowledge of the crime, she would be charged with Darrell’s murder.

  “Now’s the time for running,” Gabriel said in her ear. “But I’m afraid he’d shoot you down before you reached the door. The bloody fools would have you in fetters rather than look farther afield for the murderer. Constables haven’t changed one bit. I only hope they don’t ship convicts to Van Diemen’s Land any longer.”

  No, but Tess rather wished they did, for she’d surely rather be in Australia right now than in Los Palmas, Florida.

  Chapter Eight

  “Tess, where are you off to now?” Charles Dumont shouted out to them as they crossed the parking lot to the detective’s vehicle. Wilkes and Tess turned to wait for the banker to approach them. “I thought you had business here,” he said when he reached them.

  “And now she’s business elsewhere,” Sergeant Wilkes said to Charles. “Who are you?”

  “Charles Dumont,” said the banker with a touch of anger in his voice. “I’m a friend of this woman’s. Who are you?”

  “Detective Sergeant Wilkes,” the policeman replied. “You say you’re a friend? How so?”

  “We have a personal relationship,” Charles said. “Though I fail to see how it’s any of your business.”

  “How long have you had this personal relationship?”

  “What’s that? Are you interrogating me in some manner?”

  “Yes,” the policeman said, “in some manner, I am. It’s called conversation, a form of communication often involving simple questions. You say you’re a friend of Teresa Miller’s?”

  “I like to think I am, yes,” Charles said. “Although the degree of that friendship is up to the lady.”

  “And who is this self-important fellow you’ve got here now? I don’t like the looks of him one bit,” said Gabriel.

  “He’s a friend,” Tess replied to Gabriel’s question.

  “Yes, I’ve been told that,” Sergeant Wilkes said to her.

  “He talks like a moneylender,” added the pirate.

  “Yes, he’s a banker,” she whispered.

  “I’ll let this guy explain himself if you don’t mind,” Wilkes said.

  “No, I don’t mind one bit.”

  Tess found herself laughing and was unable to stop herself for a moment. This was absurd. This policeman was looking for an excuse to arrest her, so Charles Dumont was arguing with the man and Gabriel was busy trying to annoy them by flicking at their ears. This whole thing was some kind of surreal comedy.

  “What’s so funny?” Wilkes asked.

  “Nothing at all.” Teresa restrained herself then and answered him soberly. “You are planning to arrest me, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know at the moment,” the detective said. “All my warrant covers is a search of your home.”

  “I know, but you think I’m guilty, don’t you? You plan to arrest me and then take a long lunch. Right?”

  “Oh, now, don’t get the man riled at you!” Gabriel cried out in her ear. “You’re not fully informed about this thing!”

  “No, actually, my kid’s got an appointment with the orthodontist at one,” Wilkes said. He seemed offended by her forthrightness. “So, I’m not planning on a long lunch.”

  “Oh, come now, you need not be evasive.” Charles stepped into the conversation. “She asked a question and you should give her an answer.”

  “She’s suspected of murdering her ex-husband, yes,” Wilkes finally admitted. “Why would we search her home if she wasn’t?” He turned his back on the banker, dismissing him from the conversation, and said to Tess, “You are his ex-wife, and you did make certain statements in open court that indicated a lack of friendliness on your part.”

  “Lack of friendliness?” Tess laughed again, unable to prevent her reaction to his tactful phrase. “Yes, I’d say that what I said about Darrell Cage would indicate a lack of friendliness. A big lack.”

  “Then you’d agree it’s logical that we suspect you.”

  “Sure, for about five minutes,” Tess said. “But I’m not in his will, for crying out loud! I’ve got nothing to gain by killing him! And I didn’t hate him enough to do such a thing!”

  “But you did hate him?”

  “Tess, you’d better get a lawyer,” Charles said warningly.

  “Of course I hated him,” Tess said. “But his business partners have more motive than I do. Are you checking on them?”

  “Should we?”

  “I don’t know. It stands to reason that they’d have cause to murder him, though. After all, we are talking about Darrell Cage,
aren’t we? I never saw Darrell’s books, but I’m an accountant, and there were telltale signs that he wasn’t being entirely aboveboard in his financial dealings.”

  “And you think his partners stabbed him fourteen times with some kind of kitchen knife to get even?”

  “Fourteen times?” Tess was taken aback by the information. Such savagery was unthinkable. “A woman would never do such a thing,” she insisted.

  “It’s more common than you’d think in crimes of passion,” Wilkes said.

  “Oh, yes,” Gabriel added. “I once saw a scullery maid slash a mate of mine over twenty strokes with a straight razor before we could put her down with a belaying pin.”

  “Quiet,” Tess told the sailor.

  “What?” Wilkes asked.

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “I’m distraught.”

  “You’ll be behind bars if you don’t get a lawyer,” Charles admonished.

  “No, don’t get tangled up with any lawyers!” Gabriel cried out. “They’re worse than the constabulary and far more expensive!”

  “Of course you can have a lawyer,” Wilkes said. “That’s your right under law. But I’m not charging you with anything now, only conducting a search. Or, I should say, planning to conduct a search. If we ever get out of this parking lot, that is.”

  “Search away,” she said. “I’m not stopping you.”

  “Into your home he’ll be going? Lord, be careful, Tess, darlin’!” Gabriel said.

  “I don’t mind,” Tess said. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  “He’ll find something just the same. Don’t taunt him.”

  “It’s not a question of minding,” Wilkes said. “I’ve got a warrant, so your opinion on the matter makes no difference.”

  “I’ll call a lawyer,” Charles said, his gaze shifting between Tess and the policeman with shrewd appraisal.

  “No, don’t bother,” Tess said. “I can’t afford one anyway.”

  “Why does this man want to pay your lawyer for you anyway?”

  “Come on, I’ve got men waiting at your house,” Wilkes said.