Killer Listing (5 page)

_____

Helen ran a hand through her short silver hair. She poured Darby a glass of Chardonnay and sank into a chair. “What a day. Thanks for making us a little snack, Darby. I’m not sure how much I can eat, but that omelet looks delicious.”

“Eat what you can, Helen. My feelings won’t be hurt. I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

“I am. I can’t believe it’s only nine o’clock.” She lifted her glass and took a sip. “I hate to say it, but it feels good to be away from Casa Cameron. I’ll go back in the morning, but I did need a break.”

“What’s the latest on Jack’s condition? “

“Stable. You found him just in time.”

Darby took a bite of the fluffy egg dish and chewed thoughtfully. After locating the unconscious Jack Cameron on the fly bridge, she and Alexandra had alerted the others and called an ambulance. At the hospital, the emergency room technicians had pumped his stomach in an attempt to rid his body of the bottle of sleeping pills he’d swallowed earlier.

“Do you think Jack’s overdose was intentional?”

Helen ran a hand through her short silver hair. “I do. I know Mitzi would never admit it, but that man has real mental problems. Kyle didn’t cause them, but when she left it made things worse. I think Jack always thought they’d get back together, even after two years of living apart. Now that she’s dead …”

“He has to find another reason to go on living.”

Helen shrugged. “Something like that.” She let out a big sigh and shook her head. “I love my friend Mitzi, God knows I do, and I never had children of my own, so maybe I shouldn’t pass judgment. But I’ll tell you what, that is one screwed up family.”

“You’ve known them for years.”

“Forever! Mitzi and I go way back. We were just kids in Miami when we became best friends.”

“How did you meet?”

“We met at a city waterskiing competition. We were twelve or thirteen, I think, and both pretty good. Well, I was pretty good, Mitzi was very good.” She smiled. “She was a looker even then, and that didn’t hurt with the judges.”

“Waterskiing. I thought golf was your big sport?”

“It is, now. But back then I lived to get out on the water and strap on my slalom ski.”

Darby pictured Helen as a teen, cutting her way through the water on one ski. “Did you do tricks, too?”

“Of course! All kinds of things. It was such fun. I’ll show you some old photos later.”

“I’d love to see them.” She took a sip of the Chardonnay, the taste clean and with a hint of oak, curious about Mitzi’s family and their Miami roots. “What made Mitzi’s family move to this coast?”

“Her father and his brother had some kind of huge fight. Mitzi was seventeen, just graduating from high school. The next thing you know, her Dad had sold their house and brought the family to Sarasota. This was in the ’50s, probably 1954 or so. Quite a change, especially for a Cuban family, but Juan Carlos Rios was a stubborn man. He owned several companies that made air conditioning systems, and he just transferred the whole operation closer to the Gulf.”

“Rios is Mitzi’s family name?”

“That’s right. Her full name is Maria Magdalena Rios Cameron. Her parents called her Maria Magdalena, but to me she’s always been ‘Mitzi.’ I think she saw it in the movies or something.” Helen smiled at the memory.

“How did she meet her husband?”

“I can’t remember. It was a few years after she’d moved. I was still in Miami, but we saw each other as much as we could. I remember she called, all excited, said she had met a dashing and wealthy man and that they were engaged. I met John Cameron once before the wedding. I was not impressed.”

“Why not?”

“I thought he was a phony.” Helen took a drink of her wine. “That Chardonnay’s not bad, is it?” She set down her glass and continued. “John has everyone believing he’s a smart, rich guy when he’s nothing of the kind. He’s one of those superficial, charming sorts of fellows. I think Kyle saw right through him, too.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’d give a look, kind of an amused face with her eyebrows way up, whenever he named-dropped about famous Floridians. You’ve heard of the Ringlings?”

“As in Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus?”

“Yes. They’re a big name in these parts. Here’s the short version: John Ringling and four of his brothers started their operation in the late 1800s, and bought Barnum and Bailey in the early 1900s. A few years later, John Ringling jumped on the Florida land boom and bought a big chunk of the Sarasota Keys. Eventually he and his wife Mable owned nearly a quarter of Sarasota’s total area. They built a Venetian Gothic mansion on the water during the roaring twenties, plus a museum to house their art collection. When John Ringling died in the late 1930s, he left it all to the state.” She took a breath and waved her hand in the air. “I used to volunteer at the Ringling Art Museum in case you’re wondering how I know all this.”

“It’s interesting. How does John Cameron fit in?”

“He claims to be a distant cousin of Mable Ringling, but I have my doubts. I think he married Mitzi because she has a fortune. I’d never say this to my friend, but I don’t think John Cameron ever loved her.”

Darby ate a few bites of omelet in silence, thinking about Mitzi Cameron’s loveless marriage. “Why is she in a wheelchair?”

Helen rose from the table and cleared her plate with a shaking hand. Darby listened as it clattered against the countertop. The older woman poured herself more wine and sat down with a sigh.

“The accident happened when Alexandra was two. John and Mitzi were out on the Gulf, just for a few hours, you know? Mitzi decided to go skiing. There was no spotter, and they crashed with another boat. Mitzi was badly injured. She lost the use of her legs and sustained some internal damage, as well.”

“God, what a tragedy.”

“Yes. She was unable to have more children, and that was a real blow. The next year they adopted Jack, and he seemed to give Mitzi a new outlook on life.” Helen’s face brightened. “That’s the year I moved to Sarasota. He was such a cute baby and Alexandra loved him from the start. They made a beautiful little family: the dark-haired mother and daughter and the blonde boy and his father. If only John could have been happy, they might have had a chance. But Mitzi’s condition was not something he could accept, nor could he unconditionally love an adopted child. If their marriage was shaky before the accident, it was in shambles following it.”

“And yet they have stayed married?”

“Mitzi is a devout Catholic. He’d have to commit some major crime for her to divorce him.” She finished her Chardonnay and sighed. She looked exhausted.

“I guess that explains the enormous estate,” Darby said, clearing the remaining dishes from the table.

“Yes,” Helen said sadly. “Casa Cameron is a big, empty, black hole of a house. John and Mitzi can avoid seeing each other for days, even weeks.”

_____

After doing the dishes and saying goodnight to Helen, Darby retreated to Helen’s cheerful guest room and checked her phone and e-mail messages. Two calls from Maine, but none from California, where she worked as a top-selling broker for Pacific Coast Realty. She checked her watch and figured the time difference. Enrique Tomaso Gomez, her capable West Coast assistant, would be relaxing in front of one of those home decorating TV shows, a glass of Napa Valley Zinfandel in hand. She smiled, thinking of the man who had served as her assistant for nearly three years.
He deserves his off time
, she thought.
I’ll call him tomorrow.

The messages from Maine were also not pressing, and Darby found her thoughts straying back to Casa Cameron and Kyle’s murder. Helen’s stories about Mitzi and her early life with John Cameron had whetted Darby’s interest in the family. Where did Kyle Cameron fit in? What had she seen in Jack Cameron, and why had she wanted to be a part of the dysfunctional Cameron clan?

Darby climbed into the comfortable bed and willed herself to stop thinking about the day’s events. In the morning she would help Helen to figure out her next step with the business, and on Wednesday she would fly back to California. In the meantime, she needed rest. She rolled over on her side and visualized herself running through the woods behind her childhood home in Maine. In minutes, she was fast asleep.

Tuesday morning dawned reliably
hot and sunny. Over a breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice, poached eggs, and grapefruit, Darby asked Helen whether Mitzi or any of the other Camerons had known of Kyle’s plan to join Near & Farr Realty.

“I don’t think so,” Helen said, handing Darby a plate of buttered toast. “Mitzi has never said anything about it, so I think Kyle kept it quiet. These things can be so sensitive. I never felt it was my place to talk about her plans. Now that Kyle’s dead, I’m still not sure if I should say anything.” She glanced at Darby. “What do you think?”

“I agree that it is tricky. When I’m in doubt, I keep my mouth shut.” She paused. “Had Kyle told Barnaby’s that she was leaving?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think so. A man named Marty Glickman is in charge of the office, and he gave me quite a glaring look when I saw him on Friday at the County Clerk’s office. Kyle represented a very big chunk of that office’s sales, so I wasn’t surprised at his reaction.”

A knock at the front door startled Helen and Darby. “It’s only 8:30,” Helen said, rising from the table and looking at her watch. “Who could be coming by this early?”

Darby listened as she spoke with someone with a deep, slightly Southern drawl. A moment later Helen was back in the kitchen with a tall man wearing tan pants and a light jacket.

“Darby, this is Detective Jonas Briggs,” she said, wringing her hands as she spoke. Darby had often noticed that the very appearance of a police officer was enough to make even the most law-abiding citizens nervous.

“Briggs, Ma’am,” he said politely. He turned to Darby and nodded. “Good morning. I’m sorry to intrude on your breakfast.”

“Please, sit down,” Helen said. “Can I get you something? Eggs? Orange juice? Coffee?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice. Thank you, Mrs. Near.”

Helen poured the detective a cup of coffee and indicated the cream and sugar. “It’s Miss Near, Detective. I’m not married.”

“Excuse me, Miss Near.”

Darby thought all of the politeness was a bit excessive, but this was, after all, the South. She wondered what information the Detective hoped to glean from Helen. With Kyle Cameron’s murder part of a serial killer’s pattern, there probably wasn’t much local questioning to be done.

“I’m here as part of a routine follow-up into the murder of Kyle Cameron,” the detective explained. “As you’ve no doubt heard, we have good reason to believe that Ms. Cameron was killed by the same person responsible for two murders on the east coast of the state. Nevertheless, I have to ask a few questions.”

Helen licked her lips and nodded. “Of course.”

“When was the last time you saw Kyle Cameron?”

Helen thought a moment. “Saturday morning. I was at my office downtown—that’s Near & Farr Realty, on Main Street—and Kyle dropped by. She told me she was excited about a new listing, and that she’d tell me more about it when we got together here—at my house—on Monday afternoon. She said she was looking forward to it.”

“Was that unusual for her to drop by your office? You did work for competing companies.”

“It wasn’t unusual. Kyle was leaving Barnaby’s and coming to work with me. She was prepared to buy my late partner’s share of the company from Darby.”

The detective glanced back at Darby. “I see. Did Barnaby’s know about her plans?”

“I’m not sure. I think she was planning to tell them this week.”

Jonas Briggs made a note on a small pad. “Thank you, Miss Near. We saw your name in her calendar for 4:30 on Monday. She had two appointments before yours, and a cocktail party out on St. Andrew’s Isle, none of which, obviously, she made.” He turned to Darby and frowned. “I’m sorry you won’t get to meet Kyle Cameron. She was quite a star around here, wasn’t she, Miss Near?”

Helen nodded. “Yes, I was looking forward to working with her.”

“She sold me a house a few years back,” the detective remembered. “Nice little place over on Palm Ave. I still live there, love it. Of course, that was before she became such a big shot.” He thought a moment. “St. Andrew’s Isle. That’s where that famous golfer lives.”

“Tag Gunnerson,” Helen offered.

“That’s right. The very same. Do you think she was going out there for business or for pleasure?”

Helen smiled. “I don’t know. But with Kyle Cameron, it was usually one and the same.”

_____

Helen huffed indignantly as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. “I don’t think much of Detective Jonas Briggs,” she said, shoving a plate into the dishwasher. It clattered against another plate as if to reinforce her annoyance.

Darby laughed as she put away the orange juice. “Now why is that, Helen? He seemed like he was trying to be a perfect gentleman.”

“Perfect gentleman, my eye. He didn’t once ask about you. Here you are, a guest in my home, and he doesn’t even inquire as to your family. No manners whatsoever.”

Darby laughed again. “But Helen, he was here to ask questions about a murder! It’s not exactly a tea party.”

“Doesn’t matter. Pretty little thing like you sitting here and all he can talk about is Kyle Cameron selling him his house. Like he was sweet on her! This is the South. Manners are important.” She poured herself another cup of coffee. “Let’s go out on the patio a moment. There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

Darby nodded, pouring herself a glass of ice water and following her friend through the dining room and out to the shade.

Helen pulled up a patio chair and sank gratefully into the green and white striped cushion. “Whew, it’s getting hot already, isn’t it? I tell you, this is about the only time you can sit out here this time of year.”

The shade was welcoming, but Darby could tell that it would only be bearable for another hour or so. She inhaled the sweet scent of citrus trees, and took a sip of her water, wondering what it was the older woman had to say.

Helen gave a soft chuckle. “What I said about Detective Briggs maybe being attracted to Kyle, that’s because she had that kind of effect on men. They couldn’t keep their eyes off her, even as she got older. She had curves in all the right places, you know, and she could be kind of a flirt.” She paused. “Did you know she was Miss Florida back in the late 1980s?”

Darby shook her head.

“You should see the photo Mitzi has of Kyle in her evening gown. She looks like someone from the cast of that old television show,
Dynasty
. Did you ever see that program?”

“No, but I’ve seen the styles of that time. Pretty over the top.”

Helen smiled. “They were. I remember your aunt and this get-up she had. A purple jacket with these big padded shoulders like she was colonel in the army or something. She wore it with these flowered gaucho pants …” Helen’s thoughts were far away, but she took a sip of her coffee and returned to the present. “Anyway, back to Kyle. The last few times I saw her, she gave me the impression that something more was going on in her life. Something besides real estate, I mean.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was a new relationship.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, she teased me once about dating, said I should try on-line dating profiles. “They really work,” she said. She told me she had met a really nice guy on some millionaire matching site, and that they’d had a few dates. Another time, she said she was clearing out the bad things in her life—the negative energy, as she put it—and making room for something new and positive.” Helen swatted at a bee that buzzed too close to her cropped gray hair. “I think she finally met someone who cared about her, not just her beauty queen looks.” She looked down at her hands. “And I think I know what she meant about negative energy.”

Darby waited for Helen to explain. The scent of the citrus trees floated like a light perfume on the ever-thickening air.

“Mitzi told me last week that Kyle asked Jack for a divorce. He was heartbroken, apparently, even though they’ve been separated for two years.” She sighed. “I love that boy, always have, but I can see why Kyle Cameron wanted to move on. Talk about your negative energy. That Jack is like a storm cloud on a clear blue day.” She gave a guilty glance toward Darby. “I can’t believe I just said that. He’s my godson, for goodness sakes.” She took a gulp of coffee. “Who knows what was going on in Kyle Cameron’s life? It’s hard to know what anyone is really going through.” She looked down at her watch and rose slowly to her feet. “I have to go into the office for a bit, and then I thought I’d stop and see Mitzi. You’re welcome to stay here or come with me.”

“Actually, I’m going to throw on my sneakers and go for a quick run before it heats up much more.”

“Now is the time,” Helen agreed. “If you wait too much longer it will be dangerously humid.”

She reached out and gave Darby’s shoulder a squeeze. “Help yourself to anything you need. How about if you come to my office at noon and we’ll go out for lunch?”

“Perfect.” Darby said goodbye to the older woman and went to her little room for her sneakers. She smoothed some sun block on her nose and cheeks and grabbed a baseball cap and a little can of pepper spray which she shoved in a pocket. Moments later, she was out the door and running.

_____

Her sleek black ponytail swinging in the sun, Darby Farr pounded down the streets of Helen’s neighborhood. She ran for about a mile, past stately homes lining some of Serenidad Key’s oldest streets, before turning around and heading back. A turn toward the water took her by a small park, where young mothers were out pushing strollers, and several artists stood at easels, painting the Gulf. Darby glanced at her watch. She’d been running for a half-hour, and although she was not tired, the heat was beginning to get to her. She turned and headed back toward Helen’s house.

After rounding the corner of the park’s perimeter, she was back in the tree-lined commercial district, running past a set of swanky designer clothing shops and expensive-looking boutiques. She’d passed a children’s clothing store just opening for business when the rank odor of burning debris assailed her nostrils. Slowing and turning toward an empty lot where the odor seemed to originate, she ran smack into the solid form of Detective Jonas Briggs.

“Why Ms. Farr,” he said, smiling. “How nice to see you.”

Darby wiped the sweat off her brow and nodded. “Likewise, Detective Briggs.” She gestured at the blackened debris. “What’s going on? Smells like a fire.”

“Correct. The building behind me burned to the ground last night. It was a fancy restaurant called Belle Haven. You ever hear of it?”

“No. But I’m not a local.”

“That’s right. I kicked myself after I left Miss Near’s property this morning, because I realized how impolite I’d been. I didn’t even ask you where you’re from.”

“Don’t worry about it, Detective Briggs. You were investigating a murder, and I’d say that takes precedence over small talk.”

“Still, that’s no excuse for bad manners. My mother would be appalled.”

“Then we won’t tell her.” Darby glanced at the smoldering remnants of the building. “What caused the blaze?”

Detective Briggs pursed his lips. “The Fire Marshall’s office is still investigating. I’m here because of the building’s owner, Jack Cameron.”

Darby whistled under her breath. “This belongs to Jack? The poor guy. First his wife, and now this …”

“Hmm.” Jonas Briggs squinted in the sunlight. “Getting too hot to be out here jogging, Ms. Farr. How about if I give you a lift home?”

“Only if you’ll stop calling me ‘Ms. Farr.’ My name is Darby.”

Jonas Briggs smiled and pointed toward a navy Volvo parked a few spaces away. “And I’m Jonas. A pleasure to meet you.” He opened the door for Darby and she slid in. It was impeccably clean, without as much as a ballpoint pen out of place.

Detective Briggs climbed in and started the engine. “The air will be on in a second,” he said.

Darby buckled her seat belt. “You car is spotless. Is that a department regulation?”

The detective chuckled. “I like a clean environment,” he said. “Helps me think. I’m in here so much that I don’t think I could take it if it got sloppy.” He adjusted the air conditioning and smiled. “You let me know if you get too chilly.” Backing out of the parking space, Jonas Briggs eased the car onto the main street.

“Do you always work homicides?”