Cardiac Arrest, page 10
Chapter Fourteen
“You do know Dr. A’s wake is tonight, don’t you, Dorothy?”
Summer didn’t bother looking up from her lounge chair next to Dorothy’s. She could feel Gladys Rumway looming over them like a Florida storm cloud. Beside her was a smaller, fluffier cloud. Mary Lee.
“You mentioned it earlier,” Dorothy said. “But thank you for reminding us.”
“Visiting hours start at four,” Gladys went on. “But we should be there half an hour early. I can give you a ride, Dorothy, if you want.” Her piglike eyes darted for a half second in Summer’s direction. “That’s all the room we have in the car.”
Mary Lee gazed down at the concrete. Didn’t that woman ever talk? Summer wondered. She was probably afraid to, or Gladys would squish her like a mosquito.
“We appreciate the offer, ladies, but we’ll have to meet you there,” Dorothy said, smoothly. “Oh, and Gladys, any more word on the investigation?”
The Battle-Ax glanced around furtively, as if spies and assassins might be lurking at the Hibiscus Pointe pool at 10:00 a.m.
“I can’t say much,” she confided. “Yet. But between us, that Detective Donovan is one smart tamale. He’s going to make an arrest very shortly, according to my source.”
You mean your wimp cousin, Summer wanted to say. But why was Gladys staring at her like that? She tried to ignore the goose bumps that rose on her arms. Did Donovan have those lab results back? Was she the one he was about to arrest?
No, of course not. That was stupid. She hadn’t done anything. But innocent people got sent to jail all the time on TV—and in real life, too. What if that whacko Marilyn had convinced the detective that she was a murderer? Marilyn could have planted something in that shake to frame her. Maybe she had even gotten her fingerprints somehow. Like, off of that cake knife in the staff kitchen.
She should never have eaten that stupid carrot cake.
Gladys spotted another pair of ladies, one with a walker, heading slowly toward the main building. “Girls, yoohoo!” she called. “See you tonight,” she told Dorothy. “We’re spreading the word. Come on, Mary Lee.”
Good riddance. Summer stood up. “Are you going for a swim, Dorothy?”
“I suppose.” Dorothy looked down at her flowered rubber bathing cap and sighed. “We spent all that money at the salon yesterday, and this thing will take the pouf straight out.”
“I’ll fix your hair up for you,” Summer offered.
“Thank you. I may take you up on that.” Dorothy stepped over to the pool and glided carefully into the water, just as Dash and Juliette-Margot walked through the wrought iron gate. Juliette-Margot was wearing her big shirt and sunhat again.
“Hi,” Summer greeted them. “What are you guys doing here so early?”
“Well, it’s not too sunny yet,” Dash said. “And I’m planning to attend that wake tonight, like everyone else in town.”
“Really?” Summer asked. “Me too. I guess you want to be there to support your buddy Eduardo, huh?”
“Hardly,” Dash said, as Juliette-Margot went over to a table to put down her bag and towel. “Eduardo won’t be there. Julian, my partner, is his lawyer...so let’s just say our favorite maître d’ can’t make it.”
Summer raised her eyebrows. “Whoa. Eduardo got arrested? Did it have anything to do with Dr. A?”
“No, nothing like that,” Dash said. “Julian’s a business lawyer. I don’t know, maybe something about the estate. I shouldn’t say anything more, really.”
“Oh.” Summer immediately lost interest. Money stuff bored her.
“That lady is not really swimming.” Juliette-Margot pointed toward Dorothy’s brightly colored swimming cap, moving gracefully down the pool.
“Sure she is,” Summer said. “It’s called the doggy paddle. She’s keeping her head above the water so she won’t get her hair wet. I bet you could do that. Want to try?”
“No, merci.” she said. “Juliette-Margot will sit on the steps again.”
“Okay, but she’s missing out.” Summer cocked her head. “Don’t you think Juliette-Margot should take off that big hat and shirt? It would make it a lot easier for her to swim.”
“She can’t,” Juliette-Margot said. “Or she will burn and get wrinkles.”
Summer looked at Dash.
“Julian’s really worried about her fair skin,” Dash explained. “He used to date a dermatologist. That’s why we only come at night or early in the morning.”
“Oh, right,” Summer said. Juliette-Margot had told her that the other day. Wasn’t that what sunscreen was for? But sometimes it was better to be safe than sorry. Maybe she needed to remind herself of that more often.
* * *
A long line of mourners twisted from the Spanish-brick Piretti and Sons Funeral Home and Cremation Services building, all the way to the packed parking lot. Everyone in Milano, it seemed, was eager to pay their last respects to Dr. A.
“Oh dear,” Dorothy said to Ernie, as they took their places at the end of the queue. “Perhaps Gladys and Mary Lee had the right idea, coming early.”
“Nah, most of these folks are just rubberneckers,” Ernie said. “They’ll be in and out in no time.”
“Do you really think so?” Dorothy craned her own neck to see above the crowd. The winding chain was comprised mostly of grieving women, clad in designer black and outlandish hats in the late-afternoon heat, sobbing as they consoled each other.
“The good doctor must have been making some kind of dough, if he had this many patients,” Ernie observed.
“Well, I suppose some of them were patients,” Dorothy said, “but it’s possible that some of these ladies knew him socially.”
“Unbelievable.” Ernie shook his head. “But in the end, he may have made one of them angry enough to kill him.”
“Let’s hope not.” Dorothy scanned the crowd again. “Do you see Summer anywhere?”
“She’s half a mile behind us,” Ernie said. “With a good-looking guy who’s some snappy dresser.”
Dorothy waved to Summer and Dash. Her partner was wearing extremely high black heels, drawing stares from a few of the mourners. “They’re just friends,” she informed Ernie. “We decided to attend the wake separately, so we could cover more ground.”
“You mean, divide and conquer?” Ernie’s eyes twinkled. “You two have a lot of moxie, planning to interview potential suspects at a wake.”
“It’s not moxie.” Dorothy snapped her black clutch shut. “It’s good common sense.”
“If you say so, Dot.” Ernie patted her hand. “Hey, look, what did I tell you? The line is really starting to move now.”
Forty-five minutes later, Dorothy and Ernie stood pressed against the faux-Victorian, black-striped wallpaper in the funeral home entryway.
“My word,” Dorothy murmured. “This crowd is a bit too much.”
“You’re looking pale, Dorothy,” Ernie said. “I’ll see if I can find you some water.”
“Oh, no,” Dorothy said. “I just need a bit of air. I’ll be fine, once we get into the main room.”
Unfortunately, their next location provided little relief. Dorothy saw at least three dozen acquaintances from Hibiscus Pointe. Some had gathered in small knots in the sitting room, among the overflowing floral wreaths and arrangements, while others waited in yet another velvet-roped line to view the casket in the adjoining parlor.
“Is that a bar set up over there?” Ernie said. “I’m getting that water for you.”
“Thanks, Ernie, you’re a doll.” Dorothy steadied herself on the back of a morbid floral wingchair. It would never do to faint in the midst of all these grieving people.
“Hello, Mrs. Westin.”
Detective Donovan stood against the wall, looking even more handsome than usual in a light blue blazer that matched his eyes. His considerable height set him at least a head and wide shoulders above the crowd.
“Oh, good evening, Detective. Are you on or off duty?”
“A bit of both,” he said. “How are things going?”
“Quite well, thank you,” Dorothy answered. His expression was pleasant enough, but heaven knew what he was thinking behind the official smile. “Although this is such a sad occasion, of course,” she added.
“Right.” He glanced through the doorway at the closed casket, overwhelmed by still more floral arrangements and wreaths in the parlor. A larger-than-life headshot of the deceased rested on an easel at the entrance to the room, smiling out at the crowd. “Dr. Amoretto must have been a very popular man.”
“So it would seem,” Dorothy said.
“I understand you paid a visit to Marilyn Marshack.”
He’d spoken to Dr. A’s assistant recently, then. “Oh, yes, a condolence call,” Dorothy said. “Poor Marilyn was quite distraught.”
“And how is Ms. Smythe-Sloan taking things?” Detective Donovan nodded toward the front entrance. Summer, looking as if she’d stepped fresh off a fashion shoot, had just walked in with Dash. The two of them made a beeline for the bar.
“Well, she hardly knew Dr. A, from what I understand,” Dorothy said. “She was quite shocked and upset at first, but she’s feeling better now.”
The detective raised one eyebrow as Summer threw her head back and laughed at something Dash said. “I can see that.”
“Detective, is there any way she and I might be of assistance in your investigation?” Dorothy asked. “We’re wondering, in particular, if some type of poison or medication may have caused Dr. A’s death.”
“The initial autopsy results were inconclusive.” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms across his tight shirt. “We’re still looking at a variety of factors.”
“But the medical examiner released the body.” Dorothy nodded toward the casket. “So surely you must have an idea...?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Westin, but I can’t give you any additional information right now. I’d like to take you up on your offer of assistance, however, as I do have a few more questions for you—and Ms. Smythe-Sloan, in particular.”
Oh dear. What did he mean by that, if the lab results were inconclusive? Had Marilyn somehow managed to convince him that Summer was Dr. A’s killer? Detective Donovan didn’t seem like the kind of man who could be easily swayed by anything other than hard evidence.
Or the kind of man who was in a hurry.
He nodded toward a small room off the parlor, where Dr. A’s family from Italy was encamped, receiving callers. “Maybe another time.”
“Absolutely.” Dorothy smiled gratefully at Ernie as he broke through the crowd with a bottle of water and two cups of ice.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a water myself.” The detective headed off toward the bar.
“There you are, Dorothy!” Gladys Rumway waved from a group of Hibiscus Pointe residents and hurried over. She didn’t need to exert much of an effort parting the crowd, Dorothy noticed.
“So you two finally made it.” Gladys fanned herself with a fistful of Mass cards. “Is the AC dead in this place, or what?”
“It is a tad warm.” Dorothy sipped her water. Poor Ernie was touching at his brow with a cocktail napkin.
“Really, you’d think a funeral home would be concerned about things like that,” Gladys said. “You know, with a body in here, and all. Good thing there are a lot of flowers around.”
What a dreadful observation, Dorothy thought. To her relief, Summer suddenly appeared beside her. In her sky-high heels, the girl was a good six inches taller than Gladys.
“Well, well, missy,” Gladys said. “I’m surprised you showed up, under the circumstances.”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Rumway,” Summer replied sweetly. “Wow, you sure are sweating. I’ve got a beach towel in my car. Do you want me to get it?” Her tone was pure concern.
Gladys did her best to storm off, but the crowd had swelled so that even she had trouble escaping.
“It really is a good thing there are a lot of flowers in this place,” Summer called after her, loudly.
“Gracious, Summer.” Dorothy stifled a smile. Ernie was less successful.
“Yeah, I know, that was kind of immature.” Summer shrugged. “But totally worth it.”
“You don’t want to make an enemy of Gladys, dear,” Dorothy said. “She’s extremely...influential...in the Hibiscus Pointe community.”
“She’s a big bag of wind, and everybody knows it,” Summer said. “Anyway, I came over to tell you Eduardo showed up, and guess who’s with Mr. Snooty?”
“Marilyn?”
“Bingo,” Summer said. “I followed them down the hall past the funeral director’s office, but then I lost them. Too many people.”
“Well, that’s odd,” Dorothy murmured. “I can’t imagine there’s much love lost between those two, if they both had relationships with Dr. A.”
“Maybe we can catch up with them if we go out the front door and duck back in through the handicapped entrance,” Summer said. “It’s just around the building.”
“Let’s go.” Dorothy looked at Ernie. “We’ll be right back.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, ladies,” Ernie said. “Not without me.”
“You don’t think we’ll be more noticeable if there are three of us?” Dorothy asked.
“No, we’ll be less obvious,” Summer said. “Ernie will make a great cover.”
“Thanks, kiddo,” Ernie said. “I feel very important now.”
“I do hope we aren’t being too disrespectful to the family,” Dorothy said, as the three of them made their way outside and around the bushes to the handicapped entrance.
“We can offer our condolences when we get back,” Ernie said. “There are too many people in there right now anyway. We couldn’t get near the receiving line, if we wanted to.”
“Quick, Dorothy, look frail,” Summer directed, as they walked up the ramp. “Grab on to the railing or something.”
“Really, young lady,” Dorothy said. “That’s pushing it.”
Ernie pulled on the door, which failed to open. “Locked.”
“It can’t be,” Dorothy said. “Think of how many people inside the funeral home had to come in tonight through this entrance.”
“Maybe that was the problem. You know, fire codes, or something.” Summer shaded her eyes as she peered through the glass door. “Whoa. You guys are not going to believe this.”
Chapter Fifteen
“What is it?” Dorothy asked. “Can you see Marilyn and Eduardo?”
Summer turned away from the handicapped door. “Oh, yeah, they’re in there, all right. Marilyn just landed a half-decent right hook to Eduardo’s face.”
“Good heavens,” Dorothy said. “Is anyone hurt? Do you think they saw us out here?”
“I doubt it.” Ernie took a turn squinting through the glass. “That Eduardo fellow is fine. He may have quite a shiner tomorrow, though,” he added, with a chuckle.
Summer looked over his shoulder. “They’re still arguing about something.” She sighed. “So much for eavesdropping on our two main suspects. We might as well go back to the wake, because there’s no way we’re getting in from here.”
“We’ll just have to come up with another plan,” Dorothy said, as they walked toward the main entrance.
As Ernie had predicted, much of the crowd had dispersed early. “We really should pay our respects to the family, don’t you think?” Dorothy said.
En route to the viewing room, they stopped by a skirted table filled with framed pictures, dripping wax candles, and a continuous PowerPoint presentation with more photos from Dr. A’s colorful life, set to Vivaldi.
“He wasn’t a bad-looking kid.” Summer pointed to a photo of a young Tony holding a ball and what looked like a sawed-off broomstick. “Except for the greased hair and ginormous ears. He must have gotten them pinned back.”
“Ah, the perks of professional courtesy.” Ernie leaned closer. “Looks like the good doctor was a self-made man. This one was taken in Brooklyn, and not in any fancy neighborhood, either.”
There were more recent pictures of Dr. A in black tie, receiving awards at various banquets and medical conferences, and a few of him in a polo shirt and shorts on a large sailboat. One with Mia must have been taken on the same day as the photo in his office. She was wearing the same white dress.
There were no pictures of Marilyn. Perhaps she had been the photographer at all those award dinners.
She raised her eyebrows as a final photo flashed onto the PowerPoint. It had been taken at Chameleon, at what must have been Dr. A and Mia’s engagement party. A tuxedoed Eduardo stood in the background, holding a bottle of champagne. His thin lips were curved in a false-looking smile.
Dorothy shuddered. Something about that man did not sit right with her.
“We’d better keep moving, ladies,” Ernie said, “while the going’s good.”
“So where’s Mia, anyway?” Summer asked, as they joined the end of the dwindling receiving line. Mary Lee Messinger shuffled past them on her way out, using a black, lace-trimmed hanky to dab her eyes.
There was no further sign of Gladys, thankfully.
“I was just wondering about her, myself,” Dorothy said. “Surely she must be around here somewhere. And what happened to Dash, by the way?”
Summer glanced around the parlor. “He’s over there in the corner, talking with some of his friends. I don’t think he’s much into funerals.”
