Aphrodisiac (18 page)

“Got the smoke part. However I’m not sure what you mean by rims.”

“Chrome spinnas that add flash to your whip.”

Suddenly I felt so very white. I made an educated guess. “Spinnas meaning hubcaps? And whip meaning car?”

“Right.”

Hmm. Was I looking for a pudgy stoner or a fat gangsta?

As I downed yet another cup of coffee, Benita gave me her parental eye. “We got a long drive, Saylor, and I don’t want to be stopping every twenty minutes for a bathroom.”

“Where you off to?” Jaleel asked.

“Give you a clue,” Benita said. “The place where you polished off two bowls of oysters last May.”

“Lana’s.” He looked toward his cousin. “Saylor’s aunt got a beautiful house out in East Hampton. Rochelle and I joined Benita and Saylor there over Memorial Day. Went for long walks on the beach. Burned off at least some of what I knocked down that weekend.” Jaleel gazed at me inquisitively. “Why the long face? You should be up about it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said with no conviction whatsoever.

He knew me too well. “I feel ya. Still upset over Gwen. Tell me something. What makes you think some chump bodied your friend?”

Guess our secret investigation wasn’t so secret anymore. I glanced at Benita, who gave me a not-me shrug. “How did you—”

“Mace. He worried. Keep asking me all kinds of shit about you.”

Interesting. Maybe it was time for me to get the goods on Mr. Mace. “Eldridge has been following me around. He claims he’s trying to protect me. But don’t you think it’s strange for him to go that far for a woman he just met?”

Jaleel gave me a warm grin. “He’s just like that. Eldridge do all kinds of crazy shit. Got arrested for diving off the Verrazano once. Sub, you know the dude I’m talkin’ bout.”

Sub Z nodded. “Mohawk wild man.”

Jaleel continued. “And a couple years ago he pulled a guy out of a burning oil truck that flipped over down on the Belt. Mace got no fear. Woulda been a great stuntman. Or a cop. Except he hates the law for sending him up.”

“So, Eldridge did go to prison.”

“Did time in Sing Sing.”

“What was that about?”

“Some dude raped his mama. Mace was around nineteen. He come home and found her lying there. Beat up bad, too. She pointed out some mean-ass punk from the ’hood. Mace found him and worked him silly. Dude hits his head on the street. That’s it for him. Eldridge gets penalized for involuntary manslaughter. He couldn’t help himself. Mace-man’s super loyal and protective. He still blame himself for not being there to guard his mama.”

Poor Eldridge. I thought of that sad, hurt look that always seemed to be there in his beautiful eyes. There was no way I’d allow him to put his life on the line for me. Curtis and his boys wouldn’t hesitate to kill him or anyone who got in their way. That much I’d learned.

SEVENTEEN

It was about three when we drove into Guilford, an attractive, upscale suburb in Connecticut, but I’d only been there once before, so a few wrong turns chewed up the clock. We finally found Darryl’s place, a big Stephen-King-creepy New Englandy house at the top of a hill. Gave me a case of the Gothic willies.

“Let’s make this fast and efficient,” Benita said. “No time for getting lost in memories. Keep your search focused on the tablet, the yoni bracelet, or any clues about our four suspects.”

“Four?”

“Yeah. Capricia, Schumacher, Lady Vivian. And Darryl.”

“Not that again.”

Benita hopped out of the car before I did and rang the bell.

A teenage girl answered. “You must be the new housecleaner. Right?”

I could see the steam coming out of Benita’s ears. I rushed to the door. “Hello. Shannon. Remember me? I’m your late Aunt Gwen’s friend, Saylor Oz.”

“Oh yeah. The crazy one.” She turned and called to her father, letting the door slam shut in our faces.

I gave Benita a half smile, and she grumbled, “Doesn’t anybody teach their kids manners anymore?”

Darryl appeared at the door. Gwen’s twin brother stood about six feet. He had the same narrow body and boney face as my dear deceased pal, but without the overbite. Same straw-colored hair, but clipped short. At thirty-one, he looked prosperous and attractive in a sky blue dress shirt and gray trousers. “You’re late.”

Such a warm hello. Darryl always had a way of making me feel like a pain in the neck little sister, but considering he’d lost his twin only six weeks ago, I chalked up his ornery frown to the distress and disbelief that had to be lurking in his psyche these days. I stepped forward, giving him a hug that he accepted with indifference. Rather than bring up the painful subject, especially since my knowledge about Gwen’s death was now vastly greater than his, I said only, “Thanks for letting us come by. We won’t be long.”

“I know you won’t. Jill and the twins will be back from the swim club in forty minutes.”

One didn’t have to be highly intuitive to catch his meaning. Not that we had any time to waste. This was day five of seven, and we were still no further than day one. I tried to be optimistic about our new leads, but after last night my confidence in our investigative skills was somewhat dampened.

Hands in his pockets, Darryl swaggered lethargically through the living room. We followed him past a mix of French and Victorian antique tables and chairs. The fireplace mantel was covered in framed photos of his children.

Darryl swung open a narrow paneled door that blended in with the dark brown woodwork of the kitchen. “All her stuff’s in the basement.” He reached in and flicked the light switch, then flapped his hand with an impatient “let’s go” gesture.

Clumping our way down the wooden stairs, with Darryl standing at the top watching, I had visions of meeting the ghost of Vincent Price. The dungeon of Applebee Castle wasn’t all that bad. As basements went, it was neat and well organized. There was a Windsor rocker and some rolled up rugs. A five iron with its shaft clenched inside a vice on the tool bench awaited doctoring.

A stack of eight boxes sat next to a Lifecycle that was no doubt the one that had functioned as Gwen’s favorite clothes rack. Benita and I each lifted a box to the workbench and began picking through the contents. Working quickly, moving from one box to the next, we kept checking our watches, growing tense, since the forty minutes would pass quickly. Darryl stopped in the doorway at the top of the cellar stairs a few times, listening, and no doubt keeping tabs on our progress.

We found neither the yoni bracelet, nor anything resembling a cuneiform tablet. But I did choose three photos of Gwen from our teenage years, her signed copy of
The Mermaid Chair
, plus a few items for Raffy and tucked them into the tote bag I’d brought along. “I was hoping to find another one of Gwen’s journals. Or maybe a revealing letter or note from someone during those last days.”

“E-mail, sweetie,” Benita said. “And that evidence is gone with the missing hard drive. Either stolen or destroyed by someone looking for her formula.”

Somehow we managed to search all the boxes before Darryl came strolling down the stairs acting warm and friendly. “Saylor, you might want to take a look at that old exercise bike of Gwen’s.” He smiled. “I’ll let you have it for a hundred and a quarter.”

“No thanks.”

“Really? After all these years I thought you were one of those people in a constant battle with their weight.” He started trotting back up the stairs then stopped halfway and pointed to the rear corner of the basement to an elongated eight-foot runway covered in fake grass with a plastic hole at the end. “Careful not to lean things against my putting green.” Back to being terse, “Try not to break it.”

The instant the door closed at the top of the landing Benita said, “I don’t care what you say. He’s on my list of suspects.”

I was more concerned that Darryl might have thrown out the tablet. I knelt on the floor and sorted through a pile of stuff that was clearly meant for the trash. “Oh. This is Gwen’s old Tinkerbell jewelry box. I gave it to her for her tenth birthday.” I held it and brushed my fingers lovingly along the rectangular top where the pink enamel paint was scratched and chipped.

Benita looked at me like I was nuts. “Pretty beat up. Couldn’t even peddle that one on eBay.”

“I’d never sell this.” I tucked it into my tote bag and looked up at her. “How about you?”

“I’m taking her Che Guevara tee shirt,” Benita said.

About five minutes to four we climbed the stairs. Darryl walked us to the door, obviously pleased we were making our exit before wifey came home with the kids and ran into those annoying friends of her wacky late sister-in-law.

The mail was spread out on a table in the foyer. Next to the usual white business envelopes were some magazines.
Newsweek, Allure
and a copy of…
Dub
. As in Chub Dubs? I turned to Benita and nodded toward the table. Her eyes lit up.

“Why, Darryl, I see you read
Dub
,” she said.

“That’s right. I like cars.”

I remembered him as a teen working on cars. And only last year Gwen told me he sold his classic ‘57 Thunderbird convertible.

“Bet you go for those twenty-inch spinners.” Benita said.

He offered a blasé shrug.

“Tell me, Darryl.” She jumped to the point, the challenging tone in her voice way too unsubtle. “Any of your cars have dubs?” Still, with one car out and the other in the garage, I was curious if they either of them were sporting the flashy rims.

“The Mercedes.” He replied, visibly irritated.

Benita got that ready-to-spar look in her face. “Did you ever find the hard drive that belongs to Gwen’s computer?”

“No.”

“And what about—”

Enough. I nudged the steamrolling Detective Morales aside and cut in. “Thanks, Darryl, for letting us go through Gwen’s boxes.” Benita glared at me but backed off.

“No problem. You didn’t take much.” Darryl strolled behind us to the Camry.

Sitting inside the car, I glanced up at him. “If you ever need to talk, you know, about Gwen, just call me.”

“Gwen, Gwen, Gwen,” Darryl snapped. “Frankly it gets a little draining.” He rubbed the tension from the back of his neck. “Don’t hear this the wrong way. I loved my sister. What happened was tragic. But after a while…”

I jumped in. “Sorry, Darryl. I know you must be exhausted after managing all the details of your sister’s passing. But you’ve done a great job.”

“I always do, but do you think anybody sees it? Gwen was always the one who got all the attention. Just like when I was growing up. All my parents ever talked about was Gwen and her academic prizes. Now even after she’s dead, that’s all I am to people, Gwen’s brother.” Suddenly looking embarrassed by his outburst, Darryl stepped away from the car.

I tried to say a few therapeutic and nurturing things, but he wasn’t listening. When his wife pulled into the driveway, we waved good-bye and left.

We were half a block down the street when Benita blurted, “Did you hear that? How much more proof do we need? Got the dubs on the Mercedes. Hated his sister…”

“Hold it. Hold it,” I said. “Darryl did not
hate
his sister. Tensions between siblings are completely normal.”

“Didn’t you tell me that when you, Gwen and Darryl were graduating high school together, Darryl boycotted the graduation because Gwen was valedictorian?”

“Well, yes. But…”

“No buts. The dude is obsessed. Just hear me out.” Her hands danced above the steering wheel, accentuating her talking points. “Goes right back to my original twin rivalry theory. Darryl’s uptight about his sister outdoing him. So, he becomes the overachiever. Winds up making all that money in the insurance business while his sister ends up a low-income academic slumming it down in the Hook. Then one day Gwen comes up with a discovery that could revolutionize the entire perfume industry and take her from rags to riches. She’d be worth millions. Bingo. Twin bro has a meltdown.”

I gazed out at the pretty houses in the neighborhood. “But why would Darryl want the tablet? He’s got plenty of money.”

“Drummond had way more bucks, but he wanted that tablet. You know, people have their secret sides.” She turned into the parking lot of a gas station. “What doesn’t fit is how Darryl found out about the perfume when Gwen kept it classified. They weren’t all that close.”

“That part I can fathom. For one, he had keys to her place. And for another, they were still family. In which case anything’s possible.” I hopped out of the car and filled the tank. Soon as I finished paying I walked back to the driver’s side window. “Ready to switch?”

“I’m good. How about you drive when we get to the Island.”

“Fine with me.” I got back in the passenger side, and we were off when the thought struck me. “Ohmigod.”

“What is it?”

“Darryl. He’s in the insurance business.”

“So?”

“I’m not sure if he’s still with the same firm or not, but he once worked for…the Chubb group.”

“First we got the Dub,” she said. “Now we got the Chub.” She jammed on the brakes and pulled a screeching about-face in the middle of the four-lane road.

“What are you doing?” I yelled, gripping the armrest.

“You’ll see.”

We pulled back into to the gas station and parked in a slot next to the air hose machine. She pointed to a pay phone on the wall alongside the restrooms. “Time to make a little call.”

“You drive like a maniac to get us to a pay phone? Are you nuts? We do have mobiles.”

“Don’t want him seeing our caller ID. Damn, I wish I had a Spoofcard. Give me Darryl’s number.”

“Why?”

“I’m calling Mr. Appleebee.”

“What?”

“Here’s the deal. I call him up. The second he answers, I disguise my voice and just say, ‘Yo Chub Dubs.’ Catch him off guard. Knock him off balance. Bullshit with his head. Make him give himself away.”

I shook my head with some serious conviction. “Unh-uh. No way.”

Benita looked dumbstruck at me. “It’s simple, but brilliant.”

“It’s not the plan. It’s you. Just listen to yourself. You’re way too agitated.
You’re
the one who’s liable to give herself away.”

She nodded. “Good point. You do it.”

I dropped in some change and punched in Darryl’s number. I was about to ask Binnie what to do if one of his kids picked up when I heard Darryl say, “Hello?”

I switched into my best baritone. “Yo, Chub Dubs? What up?”

“Who the hell is this?” His tone was sharp and angry.

I hung up the phone.

Benita looked puzzled. “He just hung up?”

“No. I did.”

“That wasn’t the plan.”

“You didn’t hear his voice, Bin. He was not very nice.”

“Darryl never is.”

“Yeah, well, this time he was very un-nice. And besides, it just felt so deceitful. Pranking Darryl after all he’s been through. Meanwhile, we aren’t even sure he’s our man.”

“We are not pranking. We are conducting an investigation.”

“Plus it bums me out if Darryl’s our killer. He took me to my senior prom.”

Benita shot me a look she usually reserved for those who fart in public. “You actually dated Darryl Applebee? You never told me that.”

“Don’t be so mean. We can’t all be Miss Popular. I wanted to go to my prom and didn’t have a boyfriend. Gwen talked her brother into asking me. Typical Darryl, he offered to take me as long as I paid for everything.” I shrugged. “Call me sentimental.”

We stopped at a deli and Benita volunteered to run in for takeout sandwiches. A roast beef on rye for Benita and a Swiss cheese and mustard for me. While she was in the store, I pulled the jewelry box out of the tote bag that sat at my feet. I still remember that day in the gift shop and the hurt on ten-year-old Gwen’s face after her mother flatly refused to buy the magical little box that so clearly touched my friend’s heart. It took me two months to save up enough allowance money to buy it for her.

I placed the box on my lap and opened it. A tiny plastic Tinkerbell doll posed center stage on a purple satin lining divided into squares and slots that once held Gwen’s necklaces, earrings and rings. I couldn’t believe she still had this thing. She used to keep her favorite baubles and shells and lucky stones hidden in the secret compartment beneath the base.

A lightning bolt hit me. Maybe her Circle of the Sacred Yoni bracelet was there. Or even the tablet. I pinched the dividers between my fingers and tugged. Gradually I worked loose the base surrounding Tinkerbell and lifted it out. Tissue paper. Hmm.

I poked around the white crumpled paper and felt a solid object. More than one. In fact, I found six small but classic perfume bottles from Gwen’s prize collection. Ooh. A 1949 Miss Dior. And a Lelong. And Shiaparelli’s Shocking from the ‘30’s.

Benita came back with our food, and I showed her my discovery.

“Not exactly what we’re looking for,” she said, starting in on her roast beef on rye.

“But really wonderful. So glad they didn’t go out in the trash.” I pulled the tissue wrappings off the other bottles. “Theses were Gwen’s favorites. Especially this one. Guerlain’s Vol de Nuit.” I held up the smoky green bottle and saw there was perfume inside. “Still loaded. Probably the original. All of Gwen’s bottles that Darryl gave me were empty, so this is a rare treat.”