Killer Listing (23 page)

Jack Cameron staggered to his feet. He held the wall for support and waited for a wave of nausea to pass. “That’s the first thing you’ve said that makes sense, McFarlin. You’re right. Money is the last thing some people want to lose.”

_____

Darby had just sat down in the patio with her salad when she heard a knock on the door. She peered out Helen’s peephole and saw the haggard face of Jonas Briggs.

She opened the door. “Jonas, come on in. What brings you to this neighborhood?”

Briggs entered the bungalow and shook his head. “I’m on my way home. Sorry to intrude, Darby, but I’m really frustrated. This case has got me climbing the walls.”

“Can I get you something? I’m having a salad and a glass of wine. Care to join me?”

He gave a sheepish grin. “I’ve got a sandwich in my pocket. I would love a glass of wine and a few minutes of your time.”

Darby led the way to the patio, grabbing a plate and another wine glass along the way.

“I know Helen is in the hospital,” Briggs continued. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yes. She’s hoping to be released tomorrow. She looks great and is in very good spirits.”

“Thank God.” Briggs sat down and gave a big sigh. He regarded Darby with a wary smile. “You sure you’re up to this? Listening to the rantings of a stymied off-duty detective?”

“Absolutely. Let’s see what you and I can figure out.” She set his plate on the table, poured him a glass of wine, and sat down expectantly.

Jonas put a wrapped sandwich on the plate and took a gulp of wine. “I’ve learned over the years to trust my gut, you know, that feeling inside that tells you something?”

Darby nodded. “I call it intuition—same thing.”

“Yeah, well here’s what my gut tells me about this case. The murders of Candy Sutton and Kyle were committed by the same person.” He paused and gave Darby a raise of his eyebrows.

“Kyle and Candy spent several hours together last week, looking at properties all the way down to Venice.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I know that means they were gabbing it up in Kyle’s Miata the whole time. That was the way she operated, you know? Made you feel like you were best buddies while you were house hunting.”

Darby nodded, remembering that Jonas Briggs had worked with Kyle at one point, so he spoke from experience. “You’re thinking that Kyle told Candy something significant during that ride. Candy didn’t remember it at first, or she didn’t think it was important, until the other day.”

Jonas’ face looked more animated. “Exactly. Candy had no idea how important her piece of information was, so she didn’t feel a sense of urgency. She told DiNunzio that she was busy on Friday and that he would have to come today. You don’t do that if you think you’ve got something really crucial to report, right?”

“Right. Keep going.”

“Whoever killed Candy knew her routine and that she walked Fang at five thirty every morning.”

“Why was she in the alley?”

“Throwing away Fang’s—er—droppings. She put them in that dumpster after every walk.”

“So the killer was waiting there?”

“Yes.”

Darby thought a moment. “Okay, so then we have to ask ourselves, what was that piece of information, and how did the murderer find out about it? Was it a coincidence that she was killed the night before she was due to talk to you? Or had the murderer planned all along to silence her permanently?”

“I’ve got some thoughts on that,” Briggs offered. “I think our suspect found out and had to act quickly, before Candy talked. He or she may not have known Candy, but they did know Kyle. And one more thing—I would bet you that that he or she is left handed.”

Darby couldn’t help but smile. “You sound like Sherlock Holmes. ‘He walks with a limp, my dear Watson …’”

Briggs grinned as well. “Elementary, my dear Darby, and I wish I could take credit for it. Kelly McGee, in my department, worked with the medical examiner on that, and I think she’s on to something.”

Darby smiled.
Good for you, Kelly.

Briggs took another bite of his sandwich and frowned. “The thing I can’t figure out is, how did the murderer know we were going to question Candy? That seems to suggest they knew each other.”

“From what I understand, her list of acquaintances—male, anyway—is pretty long.”

Briggs took another gulp of wine. “We have her client database and it is extensive. Plenty of names that you’d recognize, including McFarlin and the Camerons.”

“The Camerons?”

“Yup. Father and son seem to have had the same taste in high-paid escorts. John Cameron wasn’t one of her most steady clients, but his name appears a few times.”

Darby shook her head. “Can this get any more complicated?” She took a sip of her wine. “Jonas, I’m not sure if it will get us anywhere, but why don’t I look into Kyle and Candy’s appointments last week? See where they went, what properties they saw?”

“Can’t hurt.” He finished his sandwich and balled up the plastic wrapping in his hand.

“Still no witnesses to Candy’s murder, right?”

“Just Fang.” He thought a moment. “On the bright side, we do have a confession in the Lieutenant Governor’s mugging. Two teenagers, both under eighteen. Not exactly the hardened criminals she wants everyone to believe are popping up across the state.” His jaw tightened. “Any luck on finding out where she was on Monday?

Darby nodded. “I made a few inquiries. Chellie was in Miami.”

“Doing what?”

“Special meeting of another task force. When I questioned Mindy Jackson, she said the Lieutenant Governor very rarely screws up her schedule. Anyway, her flight back was well after Kyle’s murder occurred. It seems impossible that she could have been at that open house when Kyle was killed.”

Jonas sighed, rose from the table, and shook his head. Worry had once more settled on his features and he looked drawn and tired.

“Honestly, we’re not any closer to solving this thing. We might as well have just found Kyle’s body an hour ago.”

Darby’s face was grim. “It’s not like you haven’t been trying, Jonas. What we need is a good old-fashioned break in the case.”

The detective nodded and headed toward the door. “Order me up one of those, okay?”

_____

Minutes after Jonas Briggs had headed out into the warm Saturday night, Darby’s cell phone rang with a call from Helen. Grabbing a pad of paper and a pen, she sat on one of Helen’s comfortable couches and answered.

“How’s it going, Darby?” Helen sounded upbeat, although her voice was low.

“Fine. Jonas Briggs was just here for a visit, but I’m alone now.”

“Great. Got a counter for you on Tag’s place. You ready?”

Darby listened while Helen rustled some papers. “Hang on, it’s here somewhere,” she said. “Okay … I think I’ve found it …” She let several moments pass. “We’ll take it!” She let out a laugh. “There are a few minor changes for Mr. Kobayashi to initial, but nothing major.”

“That’s terrific.”

“I’ll say. Tag is ecstatic. He likes Kobayashi and wants to close as quickly as possible.” Darby heard her speaking to someone in a surprised tone. “I’m afraid I need to hang up, Darby. Seems cell phone use is frowned upon in this hospital. Did you know that?”

Darby smiled and hung up the phone. St. Andrew’s Isle was as good as under contract. She gave a slow exhalation and left Hideki Kobayashi a message to call her. Forty million dollars was no small chunk of change, but she knew he would be pleased.

She sat down on Helen’s comfortable couch and flipped through a home decorating magazine, trying to clear her mind before she went to bed. Minutes later, fatigue had overtaken her, and she was asleep.

Darby dreamt of her childhood home on the island of Hurricane Harbor, Maine. She was barefoot and running across the grass of the old farmhouse when she spotted John and Jada Farr in the kitchen window. Happiness and gratitude washed over her as she flung open the kitchen door. They were talking to each other, but turned, smiling, and held out their hands.

Darby tried to walk to them. Her legs were heavy, immobile, and she looked down to see why. At her feet was a giant snake, wound tightly around her ankles, and preventing her from movement of any kind. She stretched out her hands and tried to say “Help me,” but the snake was writhing up her body, faster than she could have imagined, and now she could feel the rough scales of its skin against her lips …

She woke with a start. She was asleep on Helen’s couch, a nubby chenille pillow under her head. She sat up and forced herself to think about the dream before she lost recollection of the images. The snake was a frightening memory, but the faces of her parents—their smiles, the graceful way her mother had been leaning against her father’s broad shoulders—had been worth the terror.

She checked to see if Mr. Kobayashi had returned her call, but there was no message.
First thing tomorrow,
she thought. She would give him the good news about St. Andrew’s Isle, and ask more questions about the
Nihon Maru
and her mother.

After a quick run
through the winding streets of Serenidad Key, Darby showered, dressed, and drove to Sarasota’s fashionable St. Amand’s Circle where Hideki Kobayashi had asked to meet for Sunday brunch. He stood and gave a small bow as she approached the table.

“Ms. Farr—always a pleasure to see you again,” he murmured.

“And you.” She sat down at the round table, smoothing her skirt over her tanned legs. She smiled up at her client.

“I have wonderful news regarding St. Andrew’s Isle,” she began. “Our offer has been accepted. There are a few minor changes to the contract, but nothing substantive.” She opened up her file and showed him where Tag and Helen had modified the closing date by several days, requested less time for inspections of the property, and inserted language about contracts and the sale.

Hideki Kobayashi nodded, and smiled. “I am satisfied and prepared to sign.” He took a pen out of his jacket pocket. “If you would indicate where I do so …”

Darby went over the documents with him and watched as he initialed and signed in several places. She then called Helen Near and left a message alerting her that the property was now under contract.

“Congratulations,” Darby smiled at him. “It is a fabulous estate and really suits you. Will you be living there full time?”

Hideki Kobayashi shook his head slightly. “Unfortunately, not at first. But I will come to the island whenever possible, and I know much of my family will enjoy the estate’s grounds and the lovely swimming pools.” He smiled. “My granddaughter Momoko has already asked when she can get a slide!” He chuckled. “She is what you might call a ‘hot ticket.’ My son and daughter-in-law are constantly amazed at her quick little mind.” He smiled again, the fond grandfather.

Darby took a sip of her water. Her client pointed at the menu, eyebrows raised.

“Come, let’s order our food and something pleasant to drink, and then I will tell you about the
Nihon Maru
.”

_____

Jack Cameron woke up slowly and painfully, rubbing the places where Foster McFarlin’s punches had connected. He groaned. The guy was a hell of a fighter—that much was true.

He’d spent a good part of the evening on his fishing skiff, thinking about Candy and Kyle, and wishing he could drink away the pain caused by their deaths. He took a long swig of a diet root beer and sighed. Alcohol and pills were out of the question. That road got him nowhere, and he wasn’t going down it.

A hearing was coming up on his arson case and he’d need to be in total control. He’d discussed his options in an hour-long meeting on Friday with his attorney, and the normally calm professional seemed frustrated with Jack’s lack of detail about Belle Haven’s fiery end. The truth was, he just didn’t remember contacting anyone about torching it. The lawyer had suggested using temporary insanity as a plea, saying a jury would understand taking such a desperate action in the wake of his wife’s murder, but Jack had dismissed the idea. He was through with using excuses, no matter what the consequences.

“What if I say I don’t remember?” Jack had asked. “What will a jury think about that?”

His attorney had shrugged, a gesture Jack found almost laughable. “It depends on how sympathetic we can make you.” He frowned. “We are going to need to talk about Kyle, you realize that. Your separation, her affair with Foster McFarlin—”

“No!” Jack’s eyes flashed and sprang up from his chair. “I won’t trash her name just to clear mine.”

“But it’s the truth!” His attorney was frustrated. “You’re the one who keeps harping on the truth, not me.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to shrug. The truth was, he loved a ghost. He loved Kyle Cameron, always had, and probably always would. The fact that she was dead didn’t take that love away.

He thought back to his encounter with the tiger shark. What had happened down there, between him and the fish, to set him on this new course in life? People didn’t just “snap out” of depression, and yet somehow Jack had. His doctor couldn’t explain it—no one could.

Jack got out of bed and surveyed his surroundings. Fishing trophies from his teen years, old diving magazines, and a well-oiled baseball glove still adorned the shelves of his childhood room, although his old twin bed had been replaced with a queen. He’d been here since he and Kyle had separated, enduring the open hostility of his father and his mother’s pitying smiles.

Time to leave Casa Cameron,
he thought. Time to finally grow up.

_____

The waitress cleared away the brunch dishes from Darby and her companion and brought them both more coffee. Hideki Kobayashi leaned closer to Darby. “Now that we have finished our breakfast, I want to show you something.” He produced a five-by-four-inch glossy black and white photograph of two smiling Japanese men standing on the deck of what looked to be a large wooden boat.

“This,” he said, pointing at the man on the left, “is Denjiro Kanno, the former chairman of my company.” He glanced at Darby who gave the photo a closer look. “And this,” he said, indicating the other man who wore glasses and was a head taller than the Chairman, “is your grandfather, Tokutaro Sugiyama.”

Darby’s eyes widened. “My grandfather?”

“That is correct.” He watched her face closely before continuing. “When you told me your family name and that your mother had been on the
Nihon Maru
, something jostled in my brain, some little memory of something that I could not quite grasp. I did a little research and came up with this photograph.”

“Did my grandfather work for your company? Genkei Pharmaceuticals?”

The older man nodded. “He was a scientific officer. I did not know him, but I know he was regarded as a brilliant man.”

Darby looked into her grandfather’s face but the photograph was fuzzy and his features were blurred. “This is amazing. I never met him, but my mother spoke of him often.” She looked up from the photo. “What is the connection between the
Nihon Maru
and your company?”

“We are the ship’s corporate sponsor. It was Denjiro Kanno who got our company to help raise funds for its construction. It is, as I think I told you, a replica of a very historic vessel.”

Darby nodded. “I remember you saying that. My mother sailed to Boston on this ship as part of a delegation from the Tokyo Tourism Bureau.”

Hideki Kobayashi nodded. “Yes, that part is true.”

Darby looked at him sharply. “What do you mean ‘that part?’ What part is not true?”

Her client gave her a steady look. “I will tell you what I know, but I warn you—the truth is not always easy.”

Darby felt a queasiness in her stomach. What was he talking about?

“In the early 1980s, a book was published in Japan that shed light on a shameful piece of our history, a series of events which most Japanese people did not even know.” He looked down at his hands as if he was feeling remorse for whatever long-ago actions he was about to describe. “The book described unspeakable crimes that took place at the time of the Second World War, in a part of northeast China. They involved human experimentation.”

Darby’s heart was beating hard. What did this have to do with her grandfather?

Mr. Kobayashi looked up, a pained expression on his normally placid face. “There was a secret biological and chemical warfare research and development unit of the Imperial Japanese Army called Unit 731. The scientists explored germ warfare by experimenting on more than ten thousand people, most of them Chinese and Korean citizens.” He closed his eyes. “Some sources believe that the use of Unit 731’s bioweapons and chemical weapons programs resulted in possibly as many as two hundred thousand deaths.”

Darby swallowed. “Surely the people responsible for these crimes were punished?”

Hideki Kobayashi inclined his head. “Some were arrested by Soviet forces and tried at the Khabarovsk War Crime Trials; others surrendered to the American forces, but many of the scientists involved went on to prominent careers in academia, business, and medicine.” He paused. “Including your grandfather.”

“What?” Darby’s eyes flew open. “What are you talking about?”

His voice was gentle. “The book about Unit 731 listed your grandfather as one of the scientists conducting experiments.”

Darby shook her head, her hair swaying with the movement. “That’s crazy. My grandfather would never have been involved in something so terrible.” She looked down at the photograph’s image of the smiling, bespectacled man. “You are mistaken. My mother—”

“Your mother didn’t know, at least, not until the book came out. I suspect she had much the same reaction as you—shock, horror, disbelief.”

“Surely she asked my grandfather, and he denied it?”

Hideki Kobayashi shook his head. “I believe that by that time, the old gentleman was suffering from dementia. His mind was not reliable. I believe that this is the reason your mother sailed on the
Nihon Maru
. She wished to find out the truth.”

Darby’s head was spinning. “I don’t understand.”

“From what I have gathered, your mother requested the opportunity to sail on the ship. She knew that the highest officials of Genkei Pharmaceuticals would be aboard, and I believe she wished to confront them and clear your grandfather’s name of any scandal. I do not know what she discovered while on the ship, but I do know what she found while in Boston.”

“What?”

“Your father.” He gave a small, tender smile and Darby felt tears welling up in her eyes. This was too much—simply too much. She blinked them back and cleared her throat.

“Mr. Kobayashi, I thank you for brunch—it was delicious. I need to go now and help Helen. I’ll be in touch regarding our next step for St. Andrew’s Isle.” She managed a shaky smile. “Goodbye.”

He stood and looked into her eyes. “Darby, sometimes in these situations, there is no easy right and wrong.” He cleared his throat. “I am suggesting that perhaps your grandfather did not have a choice.”

She gave a small shake of her head, her long black hair shimmering in the sun. With trembling hands, she grabbed her purse from the adjoining chair. “When it comes to the taking of a life,” Darby said slowly, “I believe everyone has a choice.” She turned, leaving a silent Hideki Kobayashi behind.

_____

Kelly McGee took a spoonful of her frosted wheat squares and reached for the Sunday newspaper, turning immediately to the obituaries. For some reason, she loved to learn about the lives of those who had just passed away, especially if they were a ripe old age. She crunched happily on her cereal and read about an octogenarian jazz pianist who had succumbed to Alzheimer’s disease, an insurance salesman who had fought a brave battle with lung cancer, and a seventy-eight year old grandmother who had loved making quilts. She sighed. It was a shame anyone had to die, but at least these people had lived a good, long life. Not like Candy Sutton, whose face smiled serenely from her photograph. Sighing again, Kelly began to read the long columns describing the too-short life of the murdered escort.

She finished reading and gave her tortoiseshell cat, Buster, the empty cereal bowl. He winked in thanks and began licking up the leftover skim milk, his tongue a delicate shade of pastel pink. Kelly leaned back against her faded denim couch, thinking about Candy Sutton’s last days.

Two days before her attack in the alley she’d called the station and asked to speak to a detective. Kelly gave the call to Dave and he’d agreed to meet with Candy on Saturday. Early Saturday morning, while walking her dog, Candy was beaten with a foot-long two-by-four until her skull was split apart. Dave had found her when he arrived for their appointment.

Kelly took the bowl from the satisfied cat and placed it in the sink. The killer had taken quite a chance surprising Candy in broad daylight. Yes, it was the early morning, before daybreak, but still, people were out and about, delivering newspapers, opening their shops, and heading into work …

Kelly let it go and thought instead about Kyle Cameron. Her obituary had run in the daily paper, too, but since Kelly’s subscription was just on the weekends, she’d never seen it. She reached for her laptop and found the newspaper’s website. Scrolling down, she clicked on the obituary for Kyle B. Slivicki Cameron and began reading.

Kyle had been raised by her grandmother, the late Anna Slivicki, and received a prestigious scholarship to Florida State University, where she’d joined Alpha Delta Alpha, an exclusive sorority, and graduated with honors. She’d won the Miss Florida pageant and gone on to represent her state at the national level. Her successful career in real estate, most recently as an agent for Barnaby’s International Realty, and marriage to restaurant owner Jack Cameron were all described, as was her interest in World War II history.