“I only dealt with her when I had to.”
“Continue, please.”
“As I said, only when I had to. Regina used to oversee deliveries for her parent’s farm produce, and whenever she delivered to us she would always stir up the men.”
My curiosity rose. “What do you mean ‘stir up the men’?”
“Oh, you know, flirt. She wore seductive clothing, perfume, always had her hair and makeup fixed just ‘so.’ It was totally obvious what she was doing.”
“I see.” The chief made notes on his electronic pad.
Evelyn Westover grew more upset as she talked. “Of course, I tolerated her because her parents were good suppliers, and I tried to ‘just consider the source’ as my father used to teach me.”
I tried to understand where Evelyn was coming from, so I expressed my thought aloud. “So you just considered Regina to be a ‘flagrant ill-bred hussy’ and tried to rise above the situation, is that correct?”
“Exactly, Jillian.” She seemed grateful for my apparent understanding.
The chief thanked her, told her not to leave Half Moon Bay, and that at this time no one was under suspicion of murder.
Looking relieved, Evelyn rose from her chair, straightened her ill-fitting pants suit and left.
As soon as Evelyn had closed the door, I turned to the chief. “Chief, I think we should question her again.”
“This is only the beginning.”
I stood. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Thanks. I take it black. I’d like one of those white chocolate macadamia nut cookies too, please. Two down, four to go.”
I handed him the refreshments and smiled.
“I’m ready when you are.”
The chief nodded with a stifled grin and turned to Deputy Cortez. “Send in Thomas Westover.”
I hadn’t paid that much attention to Thomas Westover before, probably because his wife dominated the space whenever they were together. Apart from Evelyn, Thomas was quite a different man.
When he entered the room, it was with a confident gait. Motioning to the empty chair in front of us, he smiled. “I assume you want me to sit here?”
The chief nodded. “Please.”
Thomas took a seat, crossed his legs carefully, and folded his hands in his lap.
“Jillian is assisting me, Mr. Westover. She did find the corpse and I feel she can provide unbiased insight into this investigation.”
“Anything that will help bring justice to Regina’s murderer is admirable, Chief.”
Thomas placed his elbows on his knees, folded his hands together and leaned forward, unconcerned. He rested his chin on his hands.
His intense eyes, the color of the green golf course next to the sea in our view, captured my attention. Why hadn’t I noticed them before? They signified an inner strength that he hid from view. His tanned face testified to spending many hours on the courses. I wondered if he played for pleasure or just to retreat from Evelyn.
“Where were you this morning between the hours of two and four, Mr. Westover?” The chief’s voice was surprisingly stern.
“I was in bed with my wife, Chief.”
The chief jotted in his notebook, taking his time.
Thomas put down his hands, shifted in his chair, re-crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest. I had read that such body language indicated defiance and hostility to whomever that person was talking.
The chief followed up with his next question. “When did you last see the deceased, Mr. Westover?”
“I think it was in the bar last night. Regina joined us for a nightcap.”
The chief looked at him closely. “Where?”
“The bar.”
“What time was this?”
“About 1:30 a.m.”
“You think it was in the bar, yet you sound so sure that it was 1:30 a.m. Why is that, Mr. Westover?”
Thomas laughed. “Look, I had a lot to drink last night, so things are still a little foggy. I know Regina had a nightcap with us last night. I know it was 1:30 a.m. because I do remember Evelyn saying it was 1:30 a.m. and asking if I didn’t want to come to bed.”
The chief patted the air with his hands — he’d heard enough. “Okay…okay. I think that will be all for now, Mr. Westover. As I’ve told the others, don’t leave town, and no, we don’t have a suspect as of yet.”
Thomas Westover stood up and smiled. “Good luck, Chief. I do hope you catch the crazy person that did this. It really was a shame.”
With downcast eyes, Thomas Westover left the room.
Hugh Porter was the next one we interviewed. He said he was asleep in his room at the time of the murder, and that he hadn’t seen Regina since leaving the bus.
Satisfied, the chief had let him go. I planned to talk to Hugh on my own and told the chief so. He agreed I might find out more than he would, so he called in Marianne Delacruz.
Marianne walked in, straight-faced, carrying a binder. Without asking, she pulled out the “hot seat” chair and sat down.
“Hello, Jillian.” She placed the binder on the table in front of her. “Mind if I get some coffee? I’m doing a lecture at three o’clock and I won’t get a chance beforehand.”
The chief gestured. “Please take whatever you like.”
Placing a cup of coffee and two chocolate chip cookies on the table in front of her, she looked at me. “Am I a suspect, Jillian?”
I answered, as informally as I could. “Marianne, the chief has to ask those who were closely involved with Regina the same questions.”
“Really? Hmm, fun. What are the questions?”
The chief looked up and repeated his standard line. “Where were you between the hours of two and four this morning? When was the last time you saw Regina?”
Marianne sighed. “After dinner I went to my room, got into bed and then I started reading. I remember looking at the clock when I couldn’t read another word. It was 2:05 a.m. After that, I fell asleep.”
The chief continued. “And when was the last time you saw the deceased, Ms. Delacruz?”
“I’m sure I saw her get off the bus and then…yes, I saw her talking to Paul. After that, Hugh and I went into the Fireside Room to talk about how the conference was going. That’s really all I know about it.”
The chief and I exchanged glances, and then he spoke, “Ms. Delacruz, we may want to speak to you again so, as I’ve told the others, please don’t plan on leaving town until we have things cleared up, okay?”
“Whatever you wish, Chief. I really must look over my notes before my lecture. Jillian, I’ll see you then.”
“I’ll look forward to it. By the way, the chief, here, is interested in tree peonies, so he’ll be joining me.”
Marianne looked surprised. Relaxing a little, she smiled. “Why, Chief, that’s marvelous. Please feel free to ask me any questions on the subject that you like.”
She smiled and, with a chuckle, left.
“Would you like a warm-up?” I asked, standing to get one for myself, and another cookie.
“Thanks.” He handed me his cup.
“Who’s next?”
“Let’s talk to Mr. Youngblood.” He signaled for Deputy Cortez again.
Paul was either very polite, or very unsure of himself. He knocked on the door and asked permission to enter before opening it — very timid. He found the seat.
“We would like to ask you the same two questions we’re asking everyone else, Mr. Youngblood,” the chief said. “We want to know where you were between the hours of two and four this morning, and secondly, we want to know when you last saw Regina alive.”
“Well, as to the time you’re asking about, I was in my room watching a movie.”
“And you didn’t leave your room during that time period?”
“No, sir, I didn’t even finish it. I was asleep by 2:30 a.m.”
“We can check the guest services record to see if you’re telling the truth, Mr. Youngblood.” T
he chief’s reminder gave an unspoken warning.
“I am telling the truth.” Paul met those eyes of the chief without wavering.
“Chief, if you don’t mind.” I touched his shoulder.
“Go ahead, Jillian.”
“Paul, you talked to Regina after we arrived back at the hotel last night.”
“Yes.” He looked miserable.
“What state of mind was she in when you talked to her? Can you remember?”
“Regina said she needed to talk to me. I asked her if she was in trouble. She said, ‘I don’t know how I ever got into this mess,’ and then she saw Celeste waiting for me, got mad, and said, ‘forget it,’ that I ‘probably didn’t care anyway.’”
“And that was the last time you saw the deceased?”
“Yes, sir, she just walked away.”
“That will be all for now, Mr. Youngblood. Don’t leave town. We may need to talk to you again.” The chief waved dismissal.
Paul didn’t say a word. He just got up from his chair, turned, and walked as fast as he could out the door.
The chief took a sip of coffee. “What do you think?”
“It’s hard to say. I know he once cared for her. I wonder if he cared for her up until last night.”
“I wouldn’t have a clue. Ready for the last interview?”
“Ready.”
Then I remembered. An image flashed through my mind of Paul and someone standing together on that balcony. Yes, that had been my wish for him. Then I pictured him throwing a woman over the balcony, but the woman had no face.
My attention snapped back to the present as Celeste sauntered in wearing a taupe suede suit, pale yellow silk shirt, and a long, abstract print scarf. This woman really had her wardrobe pulled together and looked like a model for a fashion magazine. I felt like I should be photographing her instead of interviewing her.
“Please sit down, Mrs. Osborne.” The chief spoke cordially.
“Thank you. ‘Chief,’ is it?” She obviously flirted.
“Yes. Let’s get on with this. Before we begin I know you must be wondering about Mrs. Bradley here….”
“Oh, I’m sure if you think she needs to be here it’s perfectly all right with me.” She made a token glance in my direction, but I could tell that she fought to keep her cool. She wanted to maintain control of this man. Acknowledging the power of another woman nearby would only make her look weak.
“Good. I must ask you, Mrs. Osborne….”
Celeste interrupted the poor chief, “You may call me Celeste. It would make me so much more comfortable if you would.”
The Chief must have been tired. He acquiesced not to formally address her, but this was probably less Celeste’s request and more his desire to be done with this. I heartily agreed.
“Celeste,” he said.
She gushed. “Now, isn’t that better, Chief? Ask me anything you want.”
“Where were you between the hours of two and four this morning?”
“That’s pretty personal, don’t you think?” She sat up straighter in her chair.
“Now, Celeste, it is personal, but that’s the whole point. Someone killed Regina Anatolia and I think she thought it was ‘pretty personal’ when they did, so I’ll ask you one more time. Where were you between the hours of two and four this morning?”
Celeste took in a long breath through her nose and released it before replying. “I was alone, in my bed, with a mask over my eyes, trying to sleep.”
“Thank you, Celeste. And when did you last see the deceased?” The chief ignored her defensive tone.
“It’s hard to remember. I saw her talking to Paul as we got back to the hotel last night. After that, I saw her with Evelyn and Thomas having a drink together in the bar.”
“And after that?” The chief tried again.
“After that, Paul and I left.”
“What time did you and Paul leave the bar?”
“I don’t really know. No, wait, I remember the music was on in my room when I got back, and right after I turned it off, I took my watch off and looked at it. The time read 1:15 a.m.”
“So, you last saw the deceased between 1:00 and 1:15 a.m. Is that correct, Celeste?”
“That’s correct.”
“And the last people who saw her alive, according to you, were Thomas and Evelyn Westover.”
She gave a “That’s correct” once again.
The Chief stood and she followed his lead. “You may go. One word, however. You must remain in town until this is over.”
Celeste rolled her eyes, turned, and sauntered toward the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I needed to get Teddy out of my room for a while, so I decided to take him with me. He had been cooped up far too long. I caught Walter as he opened my car door for me. “I’m going out to see your father again. I will figure this out.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Bradley.” He smiled, patted Teddy, and we were off.
We drove with the windows down. The comfortable breeze mixed with sun rays tingled and invigorated my skin. The pleasure reminded me of how fortunate I was to live in such a moderate climate. The afternoon temperature had to be a perfect seventy degrees.
I arrived at the nursery and parked near the front. Was it just yesterday I had been out here? It seemed more like a year ago, so much had happened.
“This time, you’re coming with me.” I hugged Teddy tight as I grabbed my purse and shut the door, more for my own moral support than his.
A different cashier stood at the register. He had his hair in a ponytail and wore baggy jeans. His T-shirt had Seaside Nursery printed on the front. I asked for Walter Montoya and told him that I knew the way. He nodded, and returned to ringing up a sale for a customer who struggled putting several flats of impatiens on the counter.
Careful of the hoses this time, I walked confidently to Mr. Montoya’s office and knocked.
“Come in.”
He stood next to his desk loading his belongings into a box. The office was now bare except for the chrome chair, an old wooden hat rack, a filing cabinet, and the desk and chair where he stood.
“I see you’re leaving.”
“Hello, Mrs. Bradley. That’s a nice dog. Is he yours?” He bent down to gently pet him.
“This is Teddy.”
“Hey, boy.”
I used my mama voice. “Shake hands? Shake. Shake hands with Walter, Teddy.”
Teddy lifted a paw, tentatively at first.
Walter grabbed it and patted the silky fur up his leg. “How polite of you, Teddy.”
“Good dog.” I scooped him into my arms and kissed him on the head. Then I put him down.
Walter’s smile only glimmered for a moment. Almost immediately, he sat down dejectedly in the desk chair.
“You really didn’t have to come. It’s too late, anyway. Mrs. Westover fired me. She said she didn’t want a thief working for her. She called me a thief! That’s like saying she’s a New York model.”
“Is she going to prosecute?”
“She said she just wanted me out of here, the sooner the better.”
“You might be better off not working here anyway, Walter. I don’t understand something. If she thought you were stealing money from her, why not prosecute?”
“I don’t care anymore, Mrs. Bradley. You can just forget about it. I think that’s best. I don’t want you getting into trouble just because of me.”
“I don’t see how I could get into trouble, Walter. It’s just that someone is getting away with theft and you’re the scapegoat. That makes me mad.”
Walter folded the box tops into one another, closing them. “I’m finished here. I don’t know who’ll hire me after this. I need some time to think. If you’ll excuse me. It was awfully nice getting to know you….”
“Walter. I’m not giving up so easily. I’m sure you’ve heard about Regina Anatolia being murdered.”
“Yeah, I heard. Mrs. Westover told me when she fired me, a
nd you know what? She told me she wouldn’t be surprised if I did it.” He put the box on the dolly with the others and started for the door.
I took his arm. “Walter, did Mrs. Westover say why she thought you murdered Regina?”
“She said anyone who would steal like I did would probably do murder.” Walter sat down, choked, and covered his eyes with his hands. He began to sob.
Teddy walked over and placed his little paw on Walter’s knee, trying to comfort him.
“Thanks, Teddy.” After regaining his composure, he grabbed my hand. “Thanks for coming Mrs. Bradley. You don’t know what it has meant to me…but, I’d just like to be alone for a little while.”
I couldn’t refuse such a request. No matter what information I might be missing, the man was falling apart.
“Of course.”
I left, more determined than ever to find out who embezzled that money. I felt there was a connection somehow between the stolen money and Regina Anatolia’s murder, but where should I start?
I knew Spencer must know something. He certainly was fond of Regina. If he took the money, how did he do it? Did he use a bogus account?
I’d put Nicole on it. What about the Westovers? Why didn’t Thomas fire Walter? Did Evelyn really run the business? Why was she in such a hurry to fire him? I thought Ann could find out. She could get things out of people better than anyone I knew.
I must talk to Hugh about Regina’s father. Maybe he knew something about whom she was involved with, or knew something about her activities outside the Society.
My goodness!
My mind was racing so fast, I had to pull off the side of the road and jot down the questions before I forgot them. I also made a note to find out just how close Paul was to Regina.
My thoughts also turned to Celeste. Would she actually kill Regina if she believed she stood in her way of getting Paul? What a horrible thought.
That left Marianne. Did she have a motive? Perhaps she had a tie to Regina no one knew about. Dominique was sitting next to Marianne at dinner last night. They seemed to get along well. I’d ask Dominique to find out what she could.
List in hand, I returned to the hotel, stopping once again at the gatehouse.
The cheerful, gray-haired female saluted. “How may I be of assistance?”
“I’m just returning from an appointment in town.”
“May I have your name, please?”
“It’s Bradley, Mrs. Jillian Bradley.”
Logging on to her computer, she located the information.
“Welcome back to the Ritz-Carlton, Mrs. Bradley. Have a nice afternoon.”