A Dead Husband (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery) (20 page)

CHAPTER 18

As Jessica put
the phone away after speaking to Jerry, a tall, dark-haired woman walked into the Adobe Grill.  When she entered several waiters moved quickly to seat her at a table a short distance from Jessica.  A glance at the bartender was rewarded with a discreet nod.  This was the person Jessica had come to the restaurant to find—MT.

When Jessica spok
e to him earlier, Jeff according to his name tag, had recognized Roger right away from the photo Jessica had with her.  And he knew immediately who he had met on a number of occasions at the Adobe Grill. MT was Margarit Tilik, a regular at the La Quinta resort who frequented the restaurants, spa and shops on site.  She visited from Los Angeles and stayed in the bungalows a few days at the end of each month, like clockwork. Her current visit had turned out to be a more extended stay.  Jeff seemed to relish the opportunity to gossip and, at first, didn’t even ask Jessica who she was, or why she wanted to know about MT.  Although he did stare closely at Jessica’s face, even with the makeup and sunglasses.

“Roger’s not the only guy she’s had lunch with
.  She usually has some sort of escort. In fact, she’s gone through a lot of them. There were all sorts of rumors that these guys were drivers, personal trainers, bodyguards or something like that.  Originally I thought this Roger guy you’re asking about was just the “babysitter du jour.” A few weeks ago something seemed to change.”  Jeff paused.

“Change, how?” Jessica asked hoping to keep him talking
.  Jeff’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Jessica as if trying to decide how much more to say. 

“Well I don’t know for sure
. More like friends. It’s not like they were hanging all over each other or anything like that, but it sure seemed like something was going on between them.” He stopped again, putting down the knife he had been using to cut up limes. Jeff scooped up the lime wedges and put them in a bowl on the bar.

“Who did you say you are again?” Jessica wasn’t sure exactly what to say but decided to stick to the truth.

“Jessica Huntington-Harper.  I’m a lawyer and a friend of Roger’s wife.  She asked me to check up on who he’s been seeing lately. Meeting with MT was on his calendar for Thursday.  Late Friday or early Saturday he was killed.”  Jeff flinched, visibly disturbed. 

“No shit? He’s dead? Are you saying murdered?” Jessica nodded in confirmation and the barkeep continued
.  “So what happened to your face?  Somebody try to kill you too?”

Jessica thought about telling the truth but a little white lie seemed more convenient
.  “Accident a couple days ago. Nobody’s trying to kill me.”  At least that last part
was
true, as far as she knew. Jeff didn’t seem convinced.

“
I don’t know what I’m talking about, really. Your friend’s husband wasn’t the main guy in Margarit Tilik’s life. Barbara Boehner at the spa can tell you more.  You should go talk to her.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he mumbled “murdered.”

Jessica was about to head on over to the spa when
Jeff stopped her.  “You might stick around and talk to the lady herself.  Like I said she’s been in town all week and usually comes in for lunch about this time. She has a regular routine when she’s in town.  The woman complains about it all the time: workout, spa treatments, lunch, visits the shops, and then heads back to her casita.  Cry me a river.” 

My kind of woman, Jessica thought
, maybe Roger’s too.  That thought made her feel a little queasy. She didn’t relish having to tell Laura that Roger was seeing another woman before he was killed. Talking to the Tilik woman might clear things up before she jumped to a conclusion that would cause her friend more pain.

“Okay, that’s a good idea” she said.

“Have a drink, on me,” Jeff said. “What’ll it be?” Something to drink sounded like a good idea. It was so easy to become dehydrated in the desert heat. The high nineties and low humidity made getting from the air conditioning in her car to the air conditioning in the restaurant a mini-sauna experience. 

“Iced tea, please,
the biggest one you’ve got. Ice water too, but I’m paying.  You’ve helped me out enough already.” Jessica pulled out a couple twenties and placed them on the bar.

She picked up the large glass of iced tea and the equally large gla
ss of water and moved to a table with a view of the door.  “Thanks again, Jeff.”

“Thanks back at you!
” he said. Picking up the twenties, he folded them and stuck them in his shirt pocket.  He seemed to be feeling much better about talking to Jessica. Money may not buy happiness but it can sure brighten your day. Jessica sat down, getting comfortable as she began working her way through the reports.

That had been maybe twenty minutes ago
.  And, here she was, an exotic looking beauty, tall and lithe with a flawless olive complexion.  Her dark hair was long and hung down her back in a precision cut. Her taste in resort wear was similar to Jessica’s, but much more revealing. The sort of clothes worn by a woman who expected to be noticed. Jessica found herself admiring the white capris she wore which looked like they had been poured onto her body and the bright purple tank in a clingy knit fabric that added a glow to the skin on her face, shoulders and arms. The tank was cut low in front and the back was a lattice work of fabric that covered little.  She wore a chunky necklace and matching bracelet made of a smoky crystal of some kind, and tall stiletto sandals that made Jessica feel dizzy just looking at them. 

Jessica wondered if she had bought the outfit at one of the shops here at the resort
. A pleasant sense of anticipation rippled through her. It quickly morphed into urgency.

“Down girl,” she said to the part of her that wanted to bolt for the door
.  She wanted to run away from this whole sordid scene and search for solace in the pursuit of overpriced, designer-labeled goods. This felt more like stalking than any sort of investigation.  How did people do this for a living?  Of course, a bit of investigating on her part might have saved her the humiliation of finding her own husband in the most compromising situation possible.

As Jessica watched, Margarit put her expensive sunglasses on top of her head
. She took a little mirrored compact from a clutch purse and checked her makeup. It must not have been a good session at the spa because she did not look happy or relaxed. Her makeup was flawless, as the mirror revealed, but there was grimness in the set of her jaw.  Her mouth turned down at the corners and her hand trembled ever so slightly as she closed the compact and put it back in her purse.  She glanced for a moment in Jessica’s direction, looking right through her.  In her eyes was a fleeting play of emotions that Jessica tried to read. Maybe a spark of anger that could explain the set of her jaw, but that gave way to fear or dread. 

“Another wom
an in trouble,” Jessica thought. She had seen that panoply of emotions in her own eyes on many occasions in the last few months. In Laura’s eyes, too, during the past couple days. 

Jessica stashed the reports she had been reading in her oversized Marc Jacobs bag
. She waited Margarit to place her order, something she did without looking at the menu. A waiter had already arrived with a glass of water and a champagne flute filled with some sparkling beverage, a raspberry at the bottom. Margarit took a sip of the drink, her hands a bit more steady after that. 

It was now or never
. Picking up her nearly empty glass of tea, Jessica approached Margarit with a casual smile on her face.  She hoped at this distance that her sunglasses and makeup were working better than they had up close with the barkeep. 

“Margarit, do you have a moment?” Jessica asked quietly
.  Apparently lost in thought, the question startled Margarit. She put her glass down abruptly, nearly spilling it in the process.

“Do I know you?  Are you with the resort?” she asked, suspicion in her accented voice
.  Not waiting for an invitation, Jessica sat down at the table next to Margarit. She slid the picture of Roger toward her. 

“My name is Jessica Huntington-Harper and I’m looking into the recent death of this man
, Roger Stone. I understand you were seeing him.”  Margarit uttered the smallest of gasps, then looked side to side before answering.

“I wasn’t seeing heem
,” she snapped.  “He was my driver for the past couple months.  My fiancé hired heem.” She took another sip from her drink. That tremble was back in her hands as she used both of them to grip the stem of the glass.  She stared at the glass, not putting it down, before glancing sideways at Jessica.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

Lying for the second time that day, Jessica said, blithely, “I had an accident. It’s too long a story to tell right now. When did you last uh see, I mean, when did Roger last drive for you?”

“I’ve had an accident or two like that myself,” she said
.  “You should go see Barb at the spa.  She can work wonders.”

“Sure, thanks,” Jessica responded
hastily.  “What about Roger? When did you last see him?”

“He drove for me several days last week
. Monday to Wednesday, I theenk, maybe Thursday too. I usually have a driver on call while I’m in town.  My fiancé doesn’t like it when I get lost. I don’t like dodging all the lost toureests who do stupid things on the road, so I have a driver.  You said he died.  How did he die, and when?” Her voice betrayed an attempt to ask in a matter-of-fact way.  Jessica was kind of relieved that she asked.  She didn’t want to think of this woman as a murderer, but she hadn’t acted all that surprised when Jessica told her Roger was dead.

“He was murdered
sometime this weekend,” Jessica said, watching Margarit intently. That got a definite reaction. A sick, terrified look removed the last vestiges of complacency from her face.  Margarit looked up and was about to speak again when she froze.  Following her gaze Jessica saw two men chatting with the seating hostess.  One was an older man, maybe in his fifties with a craggy face and graying hair. Of medium build, he was well-dressed in an expensive suit that was out of place at a resort and way too hot for the desert in June. His companion was a bigger fellow, with dark hair and that discretely furtive demeanor of private security. Also dressed in a suit that was less expensive, but just as out of place.  After pausing for a moment to say hello to Jeff, the older man headed toward them, his partner a few paces behind him. 

“My fiancé,” Margarit said under her breath
. “I’m going to have to say goodbye for now.  Do you have a card so I can call you?” 

Of course not, Jessica thought, that would be way too professional
.  “Uh, no, but here’s my name and number if you want to reach me later,” she replied, slipping Margarit a cocktail napkin on which she had quickly written both after diving into her purse for a pen.  Margarit wadded the napkin up into a ball in the palm of her hand then stuffed it into her purse. When she returned her hand to the table it contained a small black pack of cigarettes or cigars.  She tapped the pack a couple times on the table before pulling one of the long thin black smokes out of the pack. A faint odor of clove issued from the unlit cigarette, making Jessica’s skin prickle.  The odor and the sensation passed as quickly as they had come.  Too fast for Jessica to fully process her reaction, under the circumstances. 

“Hello, dah
leenk,” she said, the accent in her voice a little more pronounced.  She held out her hand, which the older man grasped. He bent and kissed it lightly. No tremble in her hand now at all.  She was remarkably more composed than she had been moments before.

“Who’s your friend?” He looked at Jessica, giving her the once over, head to toe
. He obviously did not mind what he saw, smiling pleasantly, until he took a second look at her face. 

“This is Jessica, dear
. She’s had some work done. We met at the spa and she walked over with me for a cold drink. I asked her to stay and join us for lunch but she has other plans.  I was getting ready to walk out with her and have a smoke since my lunch hasn’t arrived.  Jessica, this is my fiancé Alan.”  Turning to Jessica, she put the smoke back in the pack before speaking.  “I hope I run into you again, Jessica, when you have more time.” 

Jessica knew this was her cue to take a bow
.  “Had some work done,” what a cover story. That could explain away all sorts of facial contusions and bruises.  Playing right along, Jessica reached out and shook hands with the fiancé.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you
, Alan. I am so sorry I don’t have time to stay for lunch. Perhaps next week, Margarit.  I’ll be here again on Monday and I’ll have the whole afternoon free.”

“I’m not sure about my schedule next week, but perhaps
.  Ciao, Jessica.” 

“Bye for now,” Jessica said with a casual wave of her hand
. Jeff the bartender was watching, obviously curious about what was going on.  As she passed, Jessica gave him a little reassuring wink. 

“See you, Jeff.” 

“Later, Jessica,” he said moving to take an order from a waiter who had come up to the bar.