The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) (13 page)

"Depends on what you want to know, but I'll try to answer your question if I can."

"Harry, I can't explain how right now, but I've discovered you've been making a monthly
stipend to D&P Enterprises. A check is written off your account on the first of each
month in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars. The money doesn't appear to go toward
a stock purchase or a deposit into a money market or mutual fund account. Were you
a client of D&P Enterprises?"

"Um, well, no. Not exactly a client."

"Then why—"

"It's just, um, more of a matter of... well, let's put it this way. I'd be classified
as more of a victim of D&P Enterprises than a client," Harry said softly. He cleared
his throat and continued in a barely-audible whisper. "Listen, Lexie, can this be
just between you and me? Alma would have a fit if she knew I told anyone about the
blackmailing. For some reason, I feel like I can trust you."

"Blackmailing? Of course, Harry. I won't repeat what you say to anyone." Except for
Stone, and possibly the entire team of homicide investigators, I thought, as I whispered
back in response. "And I'm glad you feel you can trust me."

"Horatio has been blackmailing me for years, Lexie. He... he... uh—oh, this is so
embarrassing. It was such a silly thing, really. Please keep this to yourself. Telling
you about it is humiliating enough as it is."

"Go on, I won't spread it around. I promise you, Harry," I said, offering encouragement.
Telling Stone, my boyfriend and co-conspirator, wasn't exactly spreading it around,
was it? Oh yes, and possibly the team of homicide investigators, of course.

"All right, here goes," Harry said, lowering his head and refusing to look at me as
he spoke. "About ten years ago, Horatio, who was an investor like myself, except on
a grander scale, was attending the same antiques auction as I was. The auction was
an estate sale in Jefferson City. We were both involved in a silent bid on a spectacular
Salvador Dali original. I have a respectable art collection, although it's not nearly
as impressive as Horatio's. Anyway, he'd booked a room at the hotel where I was staying.
The night before the auction he burst into my room, uninvited, and caught me dressed
up in a pair of pantyhose and one of Alma's frilly negligees. To this day, I don't
know what possessed me to put those clothes on, but Horatio caught me completely off
guard. Before I knew it, he had pulled one of those small, instamatic cameras from
his pocket, snapped a photo of me, and departed. I merely tried the stuff on as a
lark, you understand."

"Uh-huh, I see." I hoped I didn't look as astonished as I felt. Trying to visualize
Harry Turner in panty hose and a frilly negligee was like trying to picture Mother
Teresa in a thong bikini. Harry Turner was a very masculine-looking gentleman. Handsome
and debonair, he had a Cary Grant aura. In many ways he'd initially reminded me of
my own father, with his muscular build, dark hair and easygoing personality. He didn't
remind me of my father anymore, however. My father would stick his arm down his own
throat and rip out his heart before he'd don a woman's negligee and panty hose. There
wasn't enough money stockpiled in all of Kansas City's casinos' vaults to entice him
to sacrifice his manhood on a lark such as Mr. Turner just described. I knew I wasn't
faring well in my attempt to mask my revulsion.

"Trust me, Lexie, it wasn't something I made a habit of doing. But I'd had a few drinks
and was feeling kind of loopy and restless. Alma was at a ladies luncheon, and I'd
picked her clothes up off the top of her suitcase to put them away. And, well, what
can I say? I was bored, I guess. It was a bad decision, and I've regretted it every
day of my life since. I certainly hope this doesn't color your view of me in any way."

That ship had sailed, I was afraid. I could never look at Harry in the same way again.

"I understand, Harry." Yeah, of course I understood. The guy was a closet transvestite.
What's not to understand? I thought.

"So, I dropped out of the bidding, naturally, and left the auction," Harry continued.
He wiped sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket.
He looked like a man being ordered to walk down a gangplank. I knew this wasn't an
easy story for him to relate.

"A few days later, a package arrived in my office with a copy of the photograph,"
Harry said. "There was no denying it was me in the photograph. Horatio had taken a
full, clear shot of my face. I knew if the photo were ever made public, I'd be humiliated
and my business would suffer irreparably. To keep it locked away in Horatio's safe
would require a monthly payment of fifteen hundred dollars, he informed me in a note
accompanying the photograph. I considered taking the package to the authorities but
chickened out because I was too ashamed for them to see the photo. I knew most of
the guys on the police force, and I didn't want to be the butt of a lot of jokes and
ridicule. I was aware it was something apt to quickly spread all over town."

"Yes, I'm sure it would have, and I can see why you didn't want to bring it to the
attention of the police. I wouldn't have, either, if I were in your shoes." Whether
they were leather oxfords or sequined high heels, I said to myself.

"Not knowing what else to do, I reluctantly told Alma about it, and after a lot of
deliberation, we agreed there was nothing we could do but pay the old bastard the
money. Alma made it clear she'd divorce me should the photo ever see the light of
day. That's what I meant when I said I would've done away with Horatio myself if I
thought I could get away with it. He's made my life hell for the last decade. Alma
and I are concerned about what will become of the contents of his safe, now that he's
deceased. I'm sure Alma's threat to divorce me still stands. She's afraid of public
humiliation and being ostracized by all the ladies at the country club.

"Alma and I have, understandably, grown apart in the intervening years, and it's not
because I can't stand the thought of living without her. It's because she controls
the purse strings in our family. If we were to divorce, I'd be left destitute, I'm
sure."

Noticing the questioning look on my face, Harry added, "Our resources are primarily
from an estate she inherited from a wealthy, unmarried aunt when Alma was only in
her twenties. When we married, I was basically penniless. I had lots of grand ideas
and high aspirations, but no money to back them. I don't need Alma in my life as much
as I need her resources. I'm sure it sounds a bit mercenary to you, but I'm too old
now to have to go out and pound the pavement looking for work to make a living. I'd
rather leave matters as they are than to have to resort to being a vagrant."

"Yes, I can see why you'd be concerned about what might happen with the contents of
Mr. Prescott's safe," I said, not even bothering to temper my sarcasm. "But blackmail
is illegal, and Horatio's actions were despicable. Does Boris know about the photo?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "But from the looks he sometimes gives me, and a few snide
remarks he's made over the years, I'm relatively certain he does know about the photo.
I've considered discussing the matter with him, but I'm not sure how to go about it.
It's a difficult subject for me to broach, as I'm sure you can understand."

"Yes, I understand. It won't be easy, Harry, but I can't see you have much choice.
If anyone would have access to Horatio's safe, it would be Boris. With Horatio's death,
the circumstances surrounding the photo he took of you could be exposed to the general
public. It may be something you'll want to ensure never happens. Have you ever had
any personal differences with Boris?"

"No, I can't honestly say I've had any personal dealings with Boris at all. Dealing
with Prescott was bad enough, and I've heard Boris is as greedy and unscrupulous as
Horatio."

"Maybe it's time you found out for yourself what kind of guy Boris is. Stand up to
him, try to cultivate a friendship with him, and then tell him the story in the same
manner you just relayed it to me. Boris seems a bit gruff, but he may be more understanding
than you'd think. What have you got to lose at this point? You can't allow things
to go on like this forever, can you?"

"No, I can't. You're right, Lexie. Maybe it's time I did just as you've suggested,"
Harry said. He ambled over and sat down on the veranda's swinging bench as if his
knees would no longer support his body. After a long, awkward silence, Harry looked
up at me and nodded. "I'm going to take your advice. Bless you, my girl. You've given
me the confidence to do it. I'll speak with Boris about the situation and deal with
the consequences. However it turns out, I know it will be easier than living with
this hanging over my head another day. If Alma divorces me, I can always sue her for
alimony—and move to another state where no one knows me."

I suddenly wished I had kept my mouth shut and prayed the suggestion I'd just made
didn't blow up in Harry's face. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it
was quite likely Boris had known about the blackmailing all along. He'd surely questioned
Horatio about Harry Turner's payment being deposited in D&P's account on the first
of every month. It wouldn't surprise me, now that Horatio was gone, if Boris didn't
up the ante and demand a higher payment from Harry to continue to keep the photo a
secret.

Oh, my, why did I always have to butt into other people's problems? When would I learn
I couldn't shape the world and mould all of its inhabitants? I don't know why I felt
it was my responsibility to persuade Harry to confront Boris about the blackmailing.
I did know one thing, though. I would give just about anything I had to be a mouse
in the corner of the room when this discussion between Harry and Boris transpired.

Chapter 10

I was back in the basement with Stone following my conversation with Harry Turner.
Stone had found little more of interest in the trash bag other than some vague information
on bank accounts in Switzerland.

"Why are Swiss bank accounts so popular with money launderers?" I asked Stone because
he seemed to know a little about everything.

"Due to Switzerland's neutrality, their banks tend to be the safest in the world,"
he said. "They allow depositors to be identified by a number known only to themselves
and a minimum of bank officials. A private fortune can remain a secret because of
this practice. If a bank employee violates this trust, he can be fined and imprisoned."

As Stone spoke, he continued to cram handfuls of shredded paper back into the trash
bag, stopping for a few moments to inspect a small paper cut on his index finger.
I watched him for a time, impressed once again with his vast knowledge. Then I remembered
the phone number I'd jotted down on my wrist. Quickly I told Stone about my forage
into Boris's room and about my close call in almost being caught going back for the
bank statement papers. I dialed the number on my cell phone. While I listened to the
phone ringing on the other end, I glanced at Stone. He didn't seem too pleased with
me. He was shaking his head with a look of disapproval and running his fingers through
his hair repeatedly.

The phone rang for a fourth time. I was disappointed when the call was answered by
a voice mail recording. "Leave a message," was the extent of the coarse message. I'd
hoped for something a little more informative, like, "You've reached Joe Blow, President
of Embezzlers Anonymous. I'm currently away from the phone, doing time in Leavenworth
on an extortion charge. You may contact my attorney at 1-800-G02-JAIL or press one
to record a voice mail after the beep." But, unfortunately, "Leave a message," was
all I got.

"Damn!" I said out loud.

"No luck, huh?"

"No." An earlier thought about being a mouse in the room when Harry confronted Boris
crossed my mind. Maybe I couldn't actually be a mouse, but I might be able to hide
like one. "Say, Stone, do you think there's enough room under the bed in Boris's room
for me to hide while he takes that six o'clock phone call tonight?"

Stone shook his head in dismay. "Yes, there's enough room, and no, you aren't going
to try something risky like that. Sneaking into Boris's room while he showered was
risky enough and not very sensible on your part. The success of this inn is nowhere
near so important to me that I'm going to let you put yourself in any more dangerous
positions like the one you put yourself in today. So erase the idea from your mind
and forget about it, Lexie. I mean it. It's much too dangerous. Men like Boris Dack
can be ruthless and unpredictable."