A Killing Gift

onto carbon paper and Wite-Out and hated technology. Quite the contrary, Bernardino even had his PalmPilot hooked up to his Micron, so both his address book and schedule came up on his computer screen. April wasn't this meticulous. Her precious address book was a small fat loose-leaf that contained the phone numbers and addresses of nearly every person she'd ever used as a source, people from all over the country. She'd never gotten around to copying all of it. Periodically she'd forget where she'd left it and tailspin into a panic.

Bernardino was on the other end of the spectrum. He'd taken all the precautions. He also had Quicken, the accounting software that showed his deposits and itemized all his expenses. This degree of organization was initially surprising to her, because he'd always seemed like a sloppy kind of guy, not that disciplined. He'd eaten anything he fancied, didn't mind what hours he worked or who was inconvenienced by his schedule, and when he was investigating a case he'd been like an octopus. The tentacles of his mind had reached out in all directions.

Looking at his work more slowly now, April saw that organization had been his strong suit. His list of notes, detailing everyone he'd talked with and everywhere he'd gone every day, said it all. But the last three days of his life showed a change in this habit. Whatever activities he'd had, he hadn't recorded by this method. Or else someone had erased them.

She scrolled through his list of folders and found Jupiter, West Palm, Venice, Fort Myers, Bradendon, Sarasota. West-coast-of-Florida cities. Opening them one by one, she saw that he'd been corresponding with real estate agents. The files contained dozens of photos of Mediterranean-style houses with exotic-shaped pools on canals and golf courses. The gorgeous-looking places listed at four, five, six hundred thousand dollars. That would be an unthinkable amount for Mike and April to spend, but much less than Bernardino could have afforded with his millions.

His correspondence with brokers showed that he'd been planning a trip to check out the towns and houses on his list. If his heart truly had been as broken as Marcus Beame had intimated to Mike, it certainly hadn't stopped him from planning his new life. April clicked to Quicken and scrolled through his checks. Not surprising, there had been a lot of medical bills. After the lottery money came in, he'd stopped playing the insurance game and simply started paying for private rooms for Lorna's hospital stays, for the lab tests, second opinions, private duty nurses. The list went on and on. The costs added up to such a large number that April began to wonder about Kathy again. Kathy was beginning to look way too naive for an FBI agent.

And then there was Lorna's funeral. Bernardino had put out some major bucks on that. April checked through to the funeral costs. Here was another surprise. Lorna had been cremated, an unusual thing for a Catholic. Another entry showed that Bernardino had bought a plot in a Queens cemetery. Calvary. But did Catholic churches accept cremated remains? She'd have to ask.

Another thing puzzled her. Would Bernie bury his wife up in Queens if he planned to sell the house and move away? The bank statements themselves were missing. This seemed inconsistent with his character, as did the mess in his house. It seemed highly likely that someone had erased at least some of the files they were looking for. But that was not a problem for a techie. The computer had been removed from the house. Their experts could find whatever had been in there. Crooks were often dumb. Their dumb moves always nailed them.

At ten past nine April heard the toilet flush, then the water in the sink run. A few minutes later Mike wandered in, shirtless and bleary-eyed, his face still wet from washing.

'You left me,' he murmured. 'Why couldn't you sleep in for once?' He came over to the couch and took her chin in his hand to review the bruises on her neck. He made no comment at the deep purple not yet beginning to yellow.

'I couldn't sleep.'

'You sound bad. What are you doing for that?'

'Te quiero,' she said softly.

'Well, thanks. But that's not a response, froggy.' He sat down beside her and followed her gaze to her computer screen. 'What do we have here?'

'Bernardino's Quicken.'

'You copied his files?' He looked impressed.

'When I went out there Thursday. Looks like some stuff is missing.'

'I need a minute to wake up.' He gave her a quick kiss and disappeared into the kitchen.

She heard the refrigerator door open and close, the coffeemaker percolate, the teakettle begin to sing. He returned four minutes later with a mug of coffee and a mug of tea. He was a nice guy.

'Thanks.' She took the tea gratefully, put her face into the steam of her favorite brew. There was nothing in the world as wonderful as a useful man and a good cup of tea.

He drank his coffee thoughtfully, then got up for more. When he returned from the kitchen the second time, he was ready. 'What have you got?'

She shook her head. 'Nothing close to a clear picture of what was going on in Bernie's life. While Lorna was alive he paid her medical bills but made no other big purchases that are recorded here. It doesn't mean he didn't buy anything, though. The Quicken software only has his Chase account recorded in it. He bought a cemetery plot in Queens, not here. He paid for a funeral. He was looking for a house in Florida. It's weird.'

'What?'

'Just this little thing. Would you bury me up here if you were moving away?'

Mike snorted. 'No, I'd take you with me in a little jar. Keep you in the car, and drive you around with me.' He combed his mustache with his fingers, laughing at the idea of April in a jar.

'Thanks. That's what I'm guessing. He had her cremated. He was taking her with him. I'll bet there was nothing buried in her plot. Just the marker. But why would he do that?'

'He probably didn't. There wasn't an urn in the house. What's your point?'

April sipped her delicious tea. 'Just picking up strange vibes. Bernardino didn't mention any of this to me.' She shrugged. Not that they'd been that close. She shook her head, sorry now that she hadn't asked a few more questions.

'What else?' Mike asked.

'He donated some money. Nothing big. I'm not all the way through it. A little here, a little there. If he hid big money in offshore banks or in Switzerland, those records aren't in here. And you didn't find any in the house. He was a fastidious guy. Where are they?'

Mike added a new point. 'We located a bunch of files from old cases. It looks like he made copies of the ones that interested him.'

'No kidding, which ones?' April was surprised. They weren't supposed to do that.

'We took about a dozen boxes of paper out of there. No recent bank stuff. You can take a look.'

'I'd like to.' She could probably guess which cases from her time with him continued to niggle at him. But she returned to the money question. 'Why move cash out of the country if he was relocating to Florida?'

'There's an explanation for everything. We've got Stevens working on the computer. He'll recover whatever was in it.'

But that took time, a lot of time. April changed the subject again. 'I went to see Jack Devereaux last night. His girlfriend gave me chicken soup.'

'Always full of surprises. You didn't mention it.'

April smiled. 'I must have forgotten.'

'Uh-huh. Did he give you anything?'

'Just that he had the impression the killer was shorter than him, and young.'

'What about you? Has your memory come back with your voice?'

'No.' She looked down at her hands. 'Lo siento,' she said softly.

'Too bad.' Mike's face remained neutral. He didn't say that sorry wasn't good enough. He leaned over and doodled on her bare thigh with one finger and didn't have to say what he was thinking now. April ignored it. There was going to be no love this morning. She felt terrible. How could she not remember almost dying? And they had work to do.

'Who's watching them?' she asked about Jack and Lisa.

'McBeel. He's good.'

'Well, whoever he is, I didn't see him. If the killer thinks Jack got a look at him, he's at risk.'

'I know,' Mike said. 'You, too.'

'I carry a gun.' April dismissed it. 'Listen, this is important. Someone's been calling their house, bothering