“You’d think, but I’m afraid not.”
“Pity.”
“Yes, it is, but I think you can consider your client cleared of this murder.”
“That’s great news, Bob. I’ll pass it on to him. Let me know when you find your female suspect, will you? I’m curious to know who it is.”
“Will do. See you around, Ed.” Martinez hung up.
Eagle looked up Tip Hanks’s phone number and dialed it.
DOLLY WAS IN THE bathroom off Tip’s study, peeing, when she heard the phone ring. She decided not to disturb herself, to let the machine get it.
After three rings, the machine answered. “This is Tip Hanks. Please leave your number and the date of your call, and I’ll return your call when I get back.”
There was a beep, and another, deeper voice spoke. “Tip, it’s Ed Eagle. I just had a call from the district attorney, telling me that you have been cleared as a suspect in Connie’s murder. This is great news, and I congratulate you. Take care of yourself. Oh, the reason you were cleared is that a crime scene technician found two smears of lipstick on Connie’s pillow-one hers, one belonging to another person. It matched none of Connie’s, so it appears that the unknown chief suspect is a woman. Go figure.” Eagle hung up the phone.
“Shit!” Dolly said aloud. She stood there thinking for a moment, then opened Tip’s center desk drawer. There was a handheld recorder there, and she opened it and removed the tape. She took the tape from the telephone answering machine, inserted it into the dictator and turned it on. The message played, but she stopped it after Eagle had said, “Take care of yourself.” Then she held down the record button and let the tape run for thirty seconds, recording silence over the last part of Eagle’s message. She returned the tape to the answering machine and reinserted the second tape into the recorder and returned it to the desk drawer.
Dolly went back to her desk, where she had left her handbag, and found two lipsticks in it. She took a tissue from a box and wiped all the lipstick from her lips, then picked up a tube, cranked the whole stick out of its holder and broke it off into the tissue. She went back to the bathroom and flushed the tissue and lipstick down the toilet, and watched to see that they cleared the bowl. She then went back to her desk and applied the other lipstick to her lips and returned it to her purse. Finally, she walked through the house and the kitchen and out to where the garbage cans were kept in a small wooden shed. She opened the top and unwound the wire closure from the top of one bag, dropped in the old lipstick case, and reclosed the bag. Finally, she went back into the house.
She was working at her computer when Tip returned to the house a few minutes later.
“Good morning,” he said, stopping at her door.
She gave him a broad smile. “Good morning. How did practice go?”
“Really well,” Tip replied. “I worked on shaping my drives, and I’m getting really good at it.”
“Gonna hit around those doglegs, huh?” she asked.
“You said it. Anything going on here?”
“Nope. Oh, you had a phone message when I was in the powder room. I haven’t played it back.”
Tip went into his study and pressed the play button, and Ed Eagle’s deep voice filled the room, giving him the news: He was no longer a suspect. “Take care of yourself,” Eagle said, and the message ended. Tip reset the machine, then went back to Dolly’s office.
“The call was from Ed Eagle,” he said. “I’m off the hook on Connie’s murder, no longer a suspect.”
Dolly grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Oh, Tip, that’s wonderful news! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Dolly,” he said. “Uh… there’s something else.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I wonder if… I mean, it’s pretty soon after Connie’s death, but would you like to have dinner sometime?”
“Oh, I’d love to,” Dolly replied with enthusiasm. “But I think you’re right: We probably shouldn’t be seen socializing in Santa Fe so soon. Tell you what: Why don’t I cook dinner for you some night soon? I’m a very good cook.”
“I’d like that a lot,” Tip said, “and I’ll look forward to it.” He kissed her on top of the head and went back into his study.
Dolly went happily back to her work, thinking of what she would cook for their first dinner together. Something good but not great-she’d want to top it at a later dinner.
21
Todd Bacon landed his Agency-furnished Beech Bonanza at Vero Beach Airport and taxied to parking at Sun Aviation. He left a credit card number for his fuel and asked the woman behind the desk, “A friend of mine named Jack Smithson is in town and he keeps his airplane here. It’s a Cessna 182 RG. I wonder if you have a phone number for him?”
The woman checked her computer and gave him a number. “Jack left here a couple of weeks ago and hasn’t returned,” she said. “I don’t know what his intentions are.”
“Thanks,” Todd said. “I’ll call and leave him a message.” He rented a car and, using the onboard GPS, drove to the last known address for Teddy Fay. He parked his car next to the cottage and looked inside. It was nicely furnished and clean, but there was no sign of an occupant. Todd looked around, then picked the lock on the front door and let himself in.
He walked through the entire cottage slowly, looking at everything, but he could find nothing that seemed to belong to Teddy, except the large safe in a closet. He remembered that Holly had seen a note left there saying that the combination to the safe was T-E-D-D-Y, and he tapped it in and opened the safe. It was entirely empty. He closed the door and spun the wheel to lock it.
He picked up the phone and found it disconnected, then sat down in the comfortable chair next to it and picked up the local phone book. He turned to the yellow pages, then found a list of moving and storage companies. One of them had a small arrow inked in, pointing to its number. He called the number with his cell phone.
“Beach Moving and Storage,” a woman’s voice said.
“Hi. This is Jack Smithson. I left some things there to be shipped a couple of weeks ago, and I wondered if they’d gone out yet.”
“Let me check.” She came back a moment later. “I have nothing in your name, Mr. Smithson,” she said. “Could they be in another name?”
Todd had an idea and checked his notebook. “Try Lauren Cade,” he said.
She put him on hold for a moment, then came back on the line. “Yes, those boxes were picked up last Monday and should have been delivered to the storage company in Santa Fe yesterday.”
“May I have the name of the storage company, please? I don’t know where Lauren is having them sent.”
“They were sent to Adobe Moving and Storage on Cerrillos Road,” she said.
“To what name?”
“I assume to herself. I have no other name.”
“Thanks so much,” Todd replied, and hung up, jotting the name in his notebook. He got the number from information and was connected.
“Hi. This is Jack Smithson. I’m calling for Lauren Cade. Was her shipment delivered on time yesterday?”
“What was the name again?” the man asked.
“Lauren Cade.” He spelled it.
“No, we received nothing yesterday, the day before or today for a Lauren Cade.”
“Is it possible to check your receivables on those days again?”
“I’ve just done that in the computer. There’s nothing for a Lauren Cade.”
“Thank you,” Todd said, and broke the connection. He looked at his watch. A little late in the day to take off for Santa Fe. He left the cottage and found a motel nearby and checked in. He cranked up his laptop and did a search for fixed-base operators at Santa Fe Airport. There were three, and he called each of them and inquired, first, if a Jack Smithson had arrived there. A no from all three. Then he asked each if they had had a 182 RG arrive. Two of the three had had such arrivals, but only one, Santa Fe Jetcenter, in the time frame that interested Todd. He asked
