'It's amazing, isn't it? It's how the rich stay rich, I guess. Anyhow, unless we can turn up some reason for Ernst to benefit by Verger's being alive, but out of the picture, then I vote we table him as the body snatcher.'
'Agreed. I wasn't thinking so much of Ernst as Mr. X.'
Quill groaned.
'I'm serious. That business with the Murex stock bouncing up and down like that is curious, very curious. And you know what? I was so curious I looked at the business section of the paper this morning to track it.' Meg reached under the counter and brought out the Palm Beach Post. 'See that paragraph?'
' `The alleged kidnapping of real estate tycoon Verger Taylor has resulted in a suspension of the buyout of Murex Limited,' ' Quill read.
'This news won't hit the Street... '
'The Street?' Quill said. 'You mean as in Wall Street?'
'Go ahead. Mock. You'll mock on the other side of your mouth if I'm right. Anyhow, the news hasn't hit Wall Street or the stock exchange yet, but when it does...'
'When it does, what/'
Meg's lower lip stuck out and she scratched her head. 'I don't know enough yet. But I want to check it out.'
'Okay, but I think there's something even more important than our tracking down suspects in this case.'
'What's that?'
'Finding Verger Taylor's body.'
'Quill, there's no way we can do that. It's a job for the police. And it may not happen for years. It may not happen ever.'
'Then we've got to find out who took the body, if not where it is. Because if we don't, we're going to have Cressida Houghton as an enemy for life. And it's good-bye to the inn and our reputations.'
'Not to mention hello to our three-hundred-fifty-three-thousand-dollar mortgage. Okay, we're ready. We're committed. We're going to find the body snatcher. Now what?'
Quill held up Verger Taylor's address book. 'Jerry Fairchild. We have to giver this to the police. It's a terrific excuse to see how things are going from the police end. And then I think we should inquire about hiring ourselves a lawyer. And after that, I want to come back here and check out Dr. Bittern.'
Meg, still on track with Quills' first suggestion about finding a lawyer said, 'We've got a perfectly good lawyer...oh.' She looked bemused. 'You want to go to find out what Mr. Hawthorne knows?'
'The lawyer for the Houghtons? He won't tell us a thing. Now, Verger Taylor's lawyer? He might tell us a lot.'
'Do we even know who Verger Taylor's lawyer is? Was? Whatever?'
Quill tapped the address book. 'Franklin Carmichael, of West Palm Beach. It's on Poinsettia Road, which is about ten minutes from the police station. For heaven's sake, Meg, he attended your class with Ernst Kolsacker.'
'And you said Dr. Bittern? I thought we crossed him off the list.'
'You never know what a shrink knows, Meg. We've got to look him in the eye and find out if he's concealing guilty knowledge.'
'Fine. There's not anything else to do today, with the institute closed.'
Quill had thrown on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt when she'd gotten up, and she decided to change to a cotton dress. She talked Meg, who protested, into a skirt and blouse. They left the blinds and shades drawn and proceeded cautiously out the front door. The bulk of the reporters had given up; a few stringers hung out by Luis's office door. Quill stopped so fast that Meg plowed into her.
'Luis,' she said, remembering the catastrophe the night before.
'The boat,' Meg said. 'You know, the amount of our bribe from Cressida would just about take care of a new boat for Luis.'
They walked across the parking lot to the offices. Meg scowled horribly at the stringers, who scattered like seagulls. She rapped on the office door. Luis opened it.
'You!' he said. 'One moment.' He slammed the door.
Meg tried again, tapping lightly and calling, 'Luis? Luis? We are really, really sorry about the boat.'
He opened the door again, buttoning his Combers Beach Club coat. 'I apologize,' he said. 'You caught me in my shirt sleeves.' He stepped outside and waved to the reporters, who had retreated to a battered Ford Escort parked in the MANAGER ONLY spot. 'You are both looking very pretty this morning,' he said. 'Would you like the Mercedes again?'
Quill put her hand gently on his arm. 'Luis. We are so sorry about your grandfather's boat.'
'It's fine. Don't worry. Grandfather had it insured.' He beamed. 'And I,' he said, 'have a book deal because you wrecked it.'
'A book deal?'
'Well, part of one.' He looked modest. 'It is to be called The Taylor Tragedy: Blood, Sex, and Crime in Exotic South Florida. I am one chapter. Then there are the talk shows on television. For this, I get paid as well. America is wonderful, Miss Quilliam.'
'America is wonderful,' Quill mused, pulling into the police station some twenty minutes later. 'Do you' suppose our wonderful police will believe that we got; Verger's appointment book from Tiffany? Will our wonderful
