Lilian I never knew her to work out anyplace but in the makeshift gym. Don’t you see?” she cried.
“You think he took the barbell from the gym, used it to clobber his wife, after which he tossed her in the pool, hid the weapon someplace, and returned it the next day?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” she said.
“I’m afraid not, Bianca. Did you mention the barbell to Tony?”
“No. I was afraid. But I did tell the police. They didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual or suspect in what I saw.”
“Who inherits, Bianca?”
She didn’t like that and made no attempt to show her annoyance at the question. “That again. Okay. When Lilian relocated here, she didn’t have a will and her lawyer told her it would be very imprudent to die intestate. To please him, she made a will leaving everything to her favorite charities, thinking that she could always change it when and if she had other ideas about where to leave her money.”
“So Tony doesn’t inherit?”
“Oh, I think he’s entitled to something as her spouse, but not the bulk of the estate. I know he’s got lawyers working on his behalf, and he’s still living in the house.”
She looked so adorable when she pouted that I hated to zing her, but she knew it was coming. “So what’s Tony’s motive, Bianca?”
“Maybe he didn’t know about the will,” she said with little conviction.
“Murder is a serious business and Tony doesn’t sound like the type who would kill on speculation. Did Lilian Ashman ever promise to name you in a new will?”
“She did. And I know what you’re thinking. That I’m angry at her dying before she could keep her word and I’m looking for a scapegoat to blame.”
It certainly seemed that way and I had to agree with the police but that wouldn’t score me any points with Bianca Courtney. Being between cases I saw no reason why I couldn’t snoop around with Bianca as my guide. If nothing else, I would try to prove to her that Lilian Ashman’s death was an accident and set her mind, and Lilian, at rest.
Diving boards are known to be the bane of private pools. And it’s a fact that many pool suppliers advise against installing them.
Our coffee, practically untouched, had grown cold and I feared so would my welcome unless I gave Bianca some hope for her cause. Tell me,” I said, ‘did Tony ever make a play for you?”
This surprised her, but she didn’t shy from the question or pretend to be modest in her answer. “He did and I thought it was disgusting and I told him so. He laughed.”
“You don’t like Antony Gilbert very much, do you?”
“I hate him,” she replied with feeling.
An objective observer she wasn’t, which did little to help her case.
“So if you called and asked if you could drop by to pick up something you forgot he would not object?”
The hope in her eyes was worth my phony effort to help. “You mean..
.”
“I mean I would like to meet him. That’s all, Bianca.”
“I know you’re a professional investigator, Archy, but I haven’t much money.”
“I don’t expect to be paid because I don’t think you have much of a case. But I am willing to stick my nose in because I like you.”
I was rewarded with that fabulous blush and a smile but not a kiss.
However, all things considered, I had made progress in my courting of Bianca Courtney. This left me feeling like Oscar’s take on the English gentleman galloping after a fox the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable.
“It’s none of my business,” I ventured, ‘but how is your cash flow?”
“Lilian gave me the car and I was able to save almost all my salary in the two years I was with her. I had no expenses other than some personal needs. She was most generous with me. When she shopped for herself,
she never failed to buy me something. I can get by for now if I’m careful and I’m on the lookout for gainful employment.”
I rose to leave and Bianca got up with me. I took out my wallet and give her my card. “Why don’t you call Tony and see what’s convenient for him and then coordinate with me.”
‘[I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Archy. I’m not out to get Tony, but I do think the police should have asked a few questions before writing it all off as an accident.” She had reached the door, and when she opened it for me she stepped back and exclaimed, “Wow.
Just look at that.”
The stretch limo was parked out front, blocking my Miata.
Twelve
I stepped out, telling Bianca to stay put and lock her door behind me.
Like a sensible girl she did as she was told. I hopped indifferently down the three steps as if the sight of a stretch limo at my doorstep was the rule rather than the exception. The driver was leaning against the limo, arms folded. He wore a black suit with matching tie and cap.
As I approached he straightened up. My eyes fell on the bulge under the breast pocket of his jacket. My guess was, it wasn’t a fountain pen.
When I had arrived at the Palm Court that morning I noticed that Al Rogoff’s carport was empty and had been glad of the fact. Now I wasn’t so glad.
“Mr. McNally,” the driver politely addressed me. “Would you mind stepping into the car for a few minutes?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course,” he answered. “But I hope you’ll oblige us. This isn’t what it seems, believe me. Mr. Cranston would like a few words with you.”
Cranston? Richard Cranston? Was it possible? This was too bizarre to be real, but unless Bianca had slipped me a mickey and I was now on my way to the Emerald City in a stretch limo it was happening. Or was it all a ruse? Was I about to meet my maker in return for some toes I had stepped on while pursuing my chosen profession? If so, did it have to be in a trailer park with the purchase of a microwave oven as my last recorded act? What a lousy way to go, and it was all the fault of Binky Watrous and his damn housewarming.
Richard Cranston, if it was the Richard Cranston behind those tinted windows, was a member of a prominent banking family. This did not stop him from adding billions to the family business via Silicon Valley and the computer revolution. In the last presidential election he had backed the winner with financial support amounting to millions, while attaching himself to the candidate’s campaign entourage as a welcome advisor. Rumor had it that Cranston was now being rewarded with a cabinet post or an ambassadorship.
The affiliation between the two men went back to their college days when they pledged the same fraternity. It was said that both the First Backside and Cranston’s bore the brand of the fraternity’s Greek letters. Thanks to his buddy, Cranston was currently the most visible and discussed Washington pol in Palm Beach since Joe Kennedy and sons’
salad days.
The driver opened the door and held it. I put off the inescapable for a moment before entering and found myself face-to-face with the man himself in surroundings as posh as a movie star’s location van. Bar, TV, several telephones, and a hamper from which the aroma of hot coffee rose in the air-conditioned air.
With more courage than I was feeling, I said, “I thought I lost you on the island.”
“We dropped you by the bridge and allowed my man in his VW bug to continue shagging you. Like your red Miata, we are a bit conspicuous.”
