Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) (9 page)

Chapter 17

Carter was still at the bar when I returned to the Ocean Terrace. An empty plate, with tell-tale signs of ketchup and mustard, sat in front of him.

Carter whistled through his teeth when he noticed me walking toward him. “That's not a happy face. I take it my idea didn't go over so well.”

I indicated the wine stains on my clothing. “That is an understatement.” I fought to keep control of my emotions, but the tears started flowing anyway.

Carter promptly paid his bill and led me out of the bar to the elevators. “First things first, let’s get you back to your room so you can change.”

I wiped my eyes, feeling embarrassed for the moment of weakness. “Sorry,” I said, digging a tissue out of my purse. “I'm fine now. You don't have to escort me to my room.”

He gave me a slightly hurt look. “Well, okay. If you'd rather be alone ...”

“
I didn't mean that. I'm just saying, don't feel obligated to take care of me.”

The elevator doors opened.

“
You're a big girl,” he said. “I know you can take care of yourself. But I'm a gentleman, so I will see you to your room, understand?”

I didn't argue.

After changing into a fresh pair of jeans and blouse, I went into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror. Streaks of mascara ran down my cheeks. My hair was a rat's nest. I resembled a character from
The Walking Dead.
I
splashed some cold water on my face.

When I returned to the sitting room, I noticed Carter out on the balcony, so I joined him.

He smiled at me. “Feel better?”

“
A little.” I had to admit, I was glad that Carter was there. His energy had a calming effect on me, something I needed desperately. It also made me wonder … what would Carter be like as a lover? Would he be sweet and attentive? Or aloof and selfish? Why did I care? I couldn’t think of him that way. He was my partner and besides, it’s not like I was even attracted to him. Although, I couldn’t deny there was something …but maybe it was just the simple fact that he was there for me. I trusted him. He had my back. And that was more than I could say for most people.

Neither one of us said a word as we stared out to the vast, black ocean. The humidity seemed more intense with the lack of breeze Carter didn’t seem in a hurry to say anything and I was fine with that.

After a few minutes, I turned to Carter and said, “It's been a hectic few days. You don't have to stay if you’re exhausted.”

“
Nah. I don't sleep much, anyway. ”

“
Why not?”

“
I don't know,” he said. “I guess I'm afraid of monsters.”

Just like Carter to crack a joke at his expense to cheer me up. I laughed because I knew of the monsters he was referring to. They were not living, breathing beasts. They were the regrets of his past, lurking in the shadows, never letting him forget.

“
Is it because of your daughter?” I asked, remembering the story he told me of her drug overdose that happened so many years ago. My hunch was that Carter still blamed himself, and I suspected he'd always wear that blame like a noose around his neck, until the day he died.

“
Maybe it's time to kill the monsters,” I told him. “Stick a knife in their wretched little hearts and be done with 'em.”

He chuckled softly. “Believe me, Sarah, I've tried. Very elusive bastards.”

“
I know.” I reached out to touch his shoulder. “Boy, don't I know.”

He took a step back, breaking my contact. “Maybe I should go,” he said. “Max will probably be walking in any minute.”

Reality came flooding back. “Yeah. You're right. He and I have a lot to talk about.”

I followed him back into the sitting room. He opened the door to leave and said, “Guess I'll see you tomorrow morning?”

“
Sure.”

After Carter left, I checked my phone and felt my heart pounding in my chest. Nothing. Nada. No calls, texts, or emails from Max.

Was he still at Jenn's house? Was he out taking a long walk by himself?

Those questions and many others haunted my mind in the following two hours that I waited for him. Surely, he'd come back, I kept telling myself while staring at the door, keeping my phone glued to my hand. Surely, he'd be back any minute.

But he never came back.

Chapter 18

The next morning, my eyes popped open, waking from a disturbing dream. I blinked, looked around and realized I was alone in bed.

My mouth felt as dry as cotton balls. I fetched a cold bottle of water from the fridge and guzzled the whole thing.

It was 8:45. I jumped in the shower, dressed in my usual jeans and cotton blouse, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

Carter was waiting for me in the lobby. He handed me a cup of coffee. I expected him to ask about Max, but he didn't. He must have noticed my bloodshot eyes and surmised that the topic would best be avoided.

“
So the Delray Beach Community Center is about a ten-minute drive,” Carter said, all business. “Just stay on Route one North and you'll run into it. Are you sure you're feeling up to this?”

I nodded with determination. “Absolutely. I just want to get this case solved so we can get paid and get back to New Hampshire. I'm so done with Florida right now.”

“
I hear ya.” He gave me a friendly pat on the arm. “Call me as soon as you have something.”

“
What are you gonna do in the meantime?” I asked.

“
In case you can't get anything from Glenda White, I have another lead I'm working on.”

“
Who?”

Carter ushered me out the door. “No time to explain. You need to go. Call me as soon as you're done talking to Glenda.”

* * *

The sunshine and baby blue sky mocked my stormy disposition. I could feel my insides burning, my palms sweating on the steering wheel.

I had to force myself to concentrate on the road. Saturday morning traffic on Route One North was light, but there were so many traffic lights that it took over half an hour.

I tried desperately to stay focused on the task at hand, but the image of Max and Jennifer, sitting together on her couch, drinking wine into the wee hours of the morning … it made me sick to my stomach.

Were Max and I done?

I should have known it would happen eventually. I just didn't want it to happen like this.

The Delray Beach Community Center was a bland, one-story concrete and glass building that looked like it used to be a hospital at one time. The neighborhood was sketchy at best, with low-income houses and apartments buildings and sparse vegetation. It was hard to believe that only a few blocks to the east, luxury condos and posh hotels and restaurants catered to the rich and famous.

I parked in a lot to the left of the building.

I searched the depths of my purse for some lipstick. With a shaky hand, I managed to swipe some color on my pale, cracked lips. I rubbed some color on my cheeks while I was at it. Not that it helped much. I still looked like hell.

I got out of my car and proceeded into the building. In the foyer, a bulletin board announced meeting schedules and upcoming events.

As I continued down the corridor, I noticed a middle-aged woman heading my way from the opposite direction. Her grey hair looked like a poodle, but her loose jowls and short, stalky build reminded me of a bulldog. A mixed breed.

“
Hello? Are you Sarah Woods?” she asked me in a friendly manner.

“
Oh, hi. Yes, you must be Glenda White.”

“
Well, that's me.” She placed a hand on her chest.

“
Actually, I was hoping to speak to you about a friend of mine who attends the meetings here. Angela Foster. She just lost her father recently, and her mother a year ago.”

Glenda tilted her head and listened to me with compassionate eyes. “Yes, of course I know Angela. You said you're a friend of hers?”

“
Yes. I'm really concerned about her. She's had a tough time and I wish I knew how to be more supportive of her.” I felt rotten lying to this nice, old lady, but I figured it was the only way she'd open up to me.

“
I have a few minutes,” she said. “Would you like to sit and chat?”

I nodded.

Glenda waddled down the corridor as I trailed behind. She couldn't have been taller than five feet, and she was about as round as she was tall.

She invited me to sit at a table. Once we got settled, she folded her arms across her ample belly and looked intently at me. “How long have you and Angela been friends?”

“
I've known her family for a long time,” I said.

Glenda nodded. “I know the family, too. I was Barbara's nurse in the months preceding her death.”

“
Oh,” I said, trying to hide my surprise. “Yes, I heard she had a nurse taking care of her. Is that how you and Angela met?”

Her expression turned sullen. “Barbara Foster was a wonderful woman and I was honored to be her caretaker. Angela and I became friends during that time. After her mom passed, Angela came to me and wanted to be a part of my volunteer group. Now she travels all over Florida, hosting lectures at various communities and churches and has been responsible for a multitude of fundraisers to keep our program running.”

“
That's right,” I said. “I think I heard somewhere that you just received a very large donation, just last month.

Glenda seemed confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“
A large anonymous donation in the vicinity of a hundred grand.” I said.

She shook her head, clearly perplexed. “If we'd received such a donation, I'm unaware of it. Where did you get this information?”

Her confusion was genuine and I hesitated to say anything more on the matter. “My mistake,” I said. “Must be a different charity I heard about.”

She shrugged it off. “Well, I think you're a dear to be so concerned about Angela, but I assure you she is doing well. Of course, she misses her mother very much. But the volunteer work has given her a new purpose in life.”

“
And her father?” I asked. “How is she dealing with his recent death?”

“
That's a difficult one. As you probably know, she and her dad never saw eye to eye, but I guess it's something she'll just have to make peace with now that he's gone.”

“
Thanks for talking to me, Ms. White. I feel better about things, now. I'm relieved to hear that Angela has found something meaningful to do with her life.”

Glenda and I walked out of the building together and then to our respective cars. As Glenda drove out of the lot, she waved for the last time and then disappeared down the road.

When I got in my car, all I wanted to do was sit for a while, to collect my thoughts about Angela. Brook had done a fine job of convincing me that Angela was a selfish, lazy, and paranoid delinquent; capable of blackmail, no less. But I wasn't so sure I believed that anymore. Glenda had provided me with a different perspective. And if Angela
did
blackmail Brook to give the money to the charity, heck, I was all for it.

I called Carter and recounted the details of my meeting, which took about ten minutes.

“
I don't think Angela is involved in the blackmail,” I told him. “In fact, I think we're wasting our time looking into her life any further.”

“
I agree,” he said. “But I think I have a pretty good idea who is involved.”

I waited. “Well, are you gonna tell me?”

“
Where are you now?” Carter asked.

“
I'm heading back to Palm Beach. Where are you?”

“
Sitting in my car, across the street from Vivian's condo.”

“
Vivian? Why?”

“
Her address is ten, Bimini Lane in Riviera Beach. Plug it into your GPS and meet me there as soon as you can.”

“
What's going on?”

“
I'll tell you when I see you.”

I tucked my cell phone back into my purse then set it on the passenger seat. I was typing the address into my phone's GPS, when I saw someone in my peripheral vision. Before I could react, the person opened the back door and slid into the back seat.

I didn't understand what was happening. I spun my head around to look behind my seat and gasped.

It was Angela Foster.

Her narrowed eyes were focused on me. “Do exactly what I say and maybe I won't slit your throat.”

I glanced down and noticed the silver blade. A small Swiss Army knife was clutched in her hand.

My brain just froze. No words came, so I bobbed my head up and down to let her know I understood.

“
Try anything funny,” she said, “and I swear to God I'll stick you.”

I nodded again, remembering Carter's arm.

“
Your purse,” she said. “Throw it back here. Then keep your hands on the dashboard and face forward.”

I did what she said.

With my hands on the dashboard, I could see her through the rear-view mirror searching frantically through my purse.

“
You've been asking questions about me,” she said. “What do you want?”

I realized that Glenda White must have called Angela after our meeting. Angela must have quickly figured out the scam, and drove back to see if I was still around.

“
I'm working on a case,” I said.

Angela held up my wallet. “Sarah Woods, huh? Says here you're a private investigator from New Hampshire? Why are you in Florida?”

I figured the truth would serve me better than lying at this point. I licked my dry lips and tried to remain calm. “My boyfriend has a job here so I came to stay with him for a few days. He works at Ocean Terrace, installing a new surveillance system.”

“
What does that have to do with me?”

“
Look, Angela, if you put the knife away, I'll be happy to explain everything.”

She sat back in the seat but kept the knife in her lap. “I don't trust you,” she said. “This is the second time in two days that I've caught someone spying on me. A grey-haired guy came to my apartment two days ago, pretending to be an exterminator. He was looking for something, too. You'd better tell me what's going on.”

I sighed. It was time to come clean. “Brook Foster hired us to find proof that you blackmailed her for a hundred thousand bucks.”

“
Blackmail?” Angela brushed her hair out of her face in exasperation. “For what?”

“
An affair.”

“
Brook was having an affair?” She laughed. “Well, isn't
that
rich. With who?”

“
I'm sorry, I can't tell you that. But someone at your dad's office got a photo and sent her a letter.”

“
And why did Brook think it was me?”

I hesitated. “Because she thought you were desperate for money.”

She laughed again, incredulous. “That's what she told you? That I was desperate?”

“
Yeah.”

I glanced at Angela in the mirror. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she stared out the side window. The abandoned knife lay on the seat, a few inches from her leg.

“
Look,” I said to her, slowly moving my hands from the dashboard to my lap. “I think I understand what's going on now. You kept asking your dad for money, not for yourself, but for the volunteer work you do with Glenda. I respect that. Perhaps your dad didn't understand that.”

Her lips tightened. “My dad knew full well what I was doing. He didn't care. He was a bastard in every way. He only cared about money, status, sleeping around with women half his age. My dad was screwing Brook in my parents’ bed every night, while my mom died slowly in her own room, attached to an oxygen tank”

“
I know about your mom,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

She snorted in disgust. “It wasn't the first time my dad cheated, you know. I was only fifteen years old when I found out.”

“
What happened?” I asked, trying to keep her talking. I wanted her to know she could trust me. I didn't want to be on the receiving end of that sharp blade still lying on the seat next to her leg.

Angela sighed, shaking her head in contempt. “A strange woman came to our home one day. She stood in the doorway crying and ... I'd never seen her before. She asked to see my dad. I told her he wasn't home. She told me that she had a daughter about the same age as me.”

I waited for Angela to go on, but she had covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Finally, she cleared her throat and continued. “The woman told me that she needed help. Her daughter needed a surgery and they didn't have money or insurance. That's when she told me that her daughter was
my
half-sister. I never said a thing to my mom, I didn't want to break her heart, but when my dad got home, I confronted him. He denied ever knowing the woman, of course. But I knew he was lying. I could always tell when he was lying.”