Killer Sweet Tooth Page 19
I whipped my head around to look at John. “Just what do you want from us?”
“Don’t make him mad, Daphne. Don’t make him mad,” Myra hissed. “He’s already killed once. He’ll do it again . . . and . . . again.” She dissolved into another round of sobs.
“Is she right?” I asked John. “Did you kill Dr. Bainsworth?”
“Can’t tell you,” he said. “If I told you, I’d have to shoot you.” He snickered.
“Is this about the jewelry?” I asked. “If this necklace is what you want, have Myra pull over and let us get out of this truck. I’ll toss you the necklace, and we’ll never say a word to anyone.”
“You’re cute,” John said. “I don’t just want that necklace. I want the whole stash.”
“There isn’t a stash!” I cried. “I lied! Pat didn’t find the necklace at the dental office. It was China’s all along. Her mother gave it to her. She let me wear it to draw out the killer.”
“Sure, sweetness, and I just fell off a turnip truck yesterday afternoon.” John nudged Myra with the gun. “Take the next right.”
“But I’m telling you the truth,” I said. “There is no stash of jewelry.”
“Well, we’re going to my hotel to talk all this over. I suggest you be thinking of a way for me to get my jewelry so you’ll have a plan when we get there,” he said.
“Had you ever seen this piece of jewelry before tonight?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said, eying the necklace lasciviously. “It is a thing of beauty though.”
“Okay,” I said. “You hadn’t seen this necklace before. That means it wasn’t in whatever you gave the dentist, right?”
“I don’t know what the dentist had,” John said. “All I know is that he smuggled the jewelry out of Mexico for my cousin and was supposed to deliver it to me. He didn’t. He decided to keep the money for doing the smuggling and keep the jewelry too. It don’t work that way.” He tugged at a tendril of my hair that had come loose from my updo.
I yanked my head away.
“You might as well play nice,” John said, “because you are going to play.”
Myra took the turn.
“Right up here,” John instructed her. “Turn in at the hotel and go around to the back.”
“Call your cousin,” I said. “He’ll tell you this necklace was not in the jewelry he stole.”
“Just hold your horses, Daphne,” he said. “We’ll sort all this out once we get in the room.”
“I wish I had a horse,” I said. “A horse that would bite your hand off.”
“Daphne!” Myra exclaimed. “Stop antagonizing the man!”
John merely laughed.
At John’s instruction, Myra drove around to the back of the hotel.
“Room two thirty-three,” John said.
“I see it,” Myra said.
“Good. Pull up there to that empty space near the stairs.”
Myra did as she was told, and John opened his door. “Don’t either of you try anything or Daphne here will get a bullet in the ribs,” he warned us. “Got it?”
Myra nodded.
“He’s going to shoot me anyway,” I said. “Try something, Myra. Try anything.”
“You really do think you’re cute, don’t you?” John asked. “How’s this? If either of you try anything, I’ll shoot the old broad.”
“The old broad?” Myra shrieked. “The old broad? You must not have thought I was too old last night when you were slobbering all over me at that dance club in Kingsport!”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” John shrugged. “Both of you get out of the truck and walk slowly up those steps. If you do anything—I mean anything—to draw attention to yourselves, I will shoot one or both of you.” He jabbed me in the ribs with the barrel of the gun. “And you might act like you don’t care what I do to you, but I know you don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s death. Do you?”
I shook my head.
“Good girl. Let’s go.” He made me go first with Myra in the middle so he could shoot Myra if need be. He felt I had all the valuable information about the jewelry, but I knew absolutely nothing. Still, maybe I could bluff and at least buy Myra and me enough time for Mark and Ben to come through.
I looked around and saw no one. You’d think at six thirty P.M. on a Friday night, there would be somebody hanging around a hotel parking lot—people going to their cars to leave for dinner . . . other Elvises en route to the convention . . . weary travelers checking in . . . Ben and Mark in the surveillance van. I did notice a silver BMW. It looked like the one Angela Bainsworth drove. If she—or anyone—was in the parking lot and would only look up here and see us . . .
When we got to the top of the stairs, John gave the metal door to his room two quick jabs with his foot. Again, I desperately scanned the parking lot.
Where are you, Ben?!
The door opened, and there stood Angela. John hustled us inside and shut the door. “Pull those two chairs away from the table.”
Myra and I looked at each other as Angela complied with his order.
“Were you followed?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Are you sure?” she said, pressing him.
“I know what I’m doing, all right?” He gave her a look that silenced her and then looked at Myra and me. “Both of you grab a chair and sit down.”
We started for the same chair, and then I took the other one.
“Neither one of you is the brightest bulb in the light socket, are you?” John asked.
“Especially not me,” Myra said. “I dated you.”
He smirked at her. “That might’ve been the smartest thing you ever did. You know you like me. We don’t have to let Daphne come between us.”
“You called me an old broad and threatened to shoot me,” Myra said.
“That was just to get her goat,” John said.
“Well, it got mine too,” she said.
“What about me?” Angela asked.
“Yeah, what about you?” I asked.
“Shut up,” John said. “All of you. Now, let’s get back to business.” With his free hand, he took out the cell phone he’d removed from my purse and found China’s number under Contacts. “I’m dialing China York’s number, and I’m putting the phone on speaker so I can listen to every word you say.”
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
“I want you to find out where the rest of the jewelry is.” He waved the gun toward Myra. “No tricks.”
I was half afraid and half hopeful that China wouldn’t answer her phone. If she didn’t answer, it would give me more time to come up with a plan for escape. If she did answer, maybe I could clue her in to our situation.
She answered.
“Hi, China,” I said. “I’m calling about the necklace.”
“Did something happen?” she asked.
“No, no, no,” I said. “Everything is fine. Myra is here . . . and—”
John slapped my arm and leveled the gun at my head.
“And lots of other people are here, too,” I said, continuing.
“Really? Is that good?” China asked.
“Uh . . . yeah. In fact, I need to know where Pat got the necklace and where she might have stashed the rest of the jewelry.” I silently prayed China wouldn’t blow the Pat story.
“Oh. Well, I can’t really say. I can call Pat, though, and ask her,” she said. “You want me to do that and call you back?”
John was vigorously nodding his head.
“Please,” I said. “Call me back on my cell phone as soon as you can find out something, okay?”
“All right.” She paused. “This won’t get Pat in any trouble, will it?”
John shook his head.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I wouldn’t let that happen. In fact, nobody would even guess she took that jewelry from Dr. Bainsworth’s office.”
John made a slashing motion across his throat.
&n
bsp; “I have to go now,” I said.
“Well, I’ll call Pat and call you right back.”
John nodded.
“Thanks, China.”
John ended the call. “Now we wait.”
I looked over at Myra. She looked weary, worried, and tired. I imagined I did too. John, on the other hand, looked more animated and alive than I’d ever thought he could be. Angela looked annoyed.
“Angela, how did you get involved with this?” I asked. “I thought you weren’t into jewelry.”
“I’m not into jewelry,” she said. “I’m into investments that ultimately pay off.”
I shook my head. “And you truly feel that this investment will pay off?”
“Shut up,” John demanded. “Leave her alone.”
“Are you just stringing her along like you did Juanita?” I asked John.
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was our breathing and the sound of the digital clock flipping over. John broke the silence by asking Angela to see if he had a beer in the fridge.
She got up and looked into the room’s mini-fridge. “No. It’s empty.”
He shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to do something else to keep my mind occupied then. Let’s play strip poker without the cards.” He looked at an imaginary hand. “What do you know? I win.” He waved the pistol in my direction. “Daphne, I’ll have that necklace now.”
When I hesitated, he said, “You can do it, or I can have Angela hold the gun while I take it off you. Your choice.” He gave me a leering grin. “Let’s see how badly you want my hands on you.”
I quickly unfastened the necklace and handed it to him.
He laughed. “She doesn’t like me as much as you two do.” He rubbed the barrel of the gun against his chin. “While it’s always good to start with the crown jewel, I have to wonder if you’re hiding anything else, Daphne.”
“No. That’s the only thing China had,” I said. “She should’ve called back by now, don’t you think? Maybe we should call her again.”
John shook his head. “Be patient.”
Fortunately, I didn’t have to be. There was a sudden crash against the door. The police had used a battering ram to get inside the room. With about half a dozen guns all pointed at his head, John dropped his own weapon and meekly allowed the officers to handcuff him. At first, they didn’t know what to do about Angela.
“Is she with the two of you?” one officer asked me.
“Definitely not!” Myra shouted. “She’s with him! Bunni was right about her all along!” Her tirade ended in heaving sobs.
I started to hug Myra but Ben, Mark, Officer Kendall, and Officer Halligan rushed into the room. Ben swept me out of the chair and into his strong arms.
“Thank God,” he said. “Thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
I clung to him, releasing my pent-up anxiety in a flood of tears. “What took you so long?”
“Your microphone cut out. But it’s all right,” he told me. “It’s over. I’m here now.”
“Take us home,” Myra said. “Just please take us home.”
I glanced over to see that she was speaking to Mark, who was holding her hands and talking to her softly.
“Myra’s right,” I said. “We need to go home.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll see if the police officers will agree to talk with the two of you tomorrow morning rather than tonight.” He stepped over to the officer in charge.
China stepped into the motel room and grinned at me. “Didn’t I tell you I’d make a good detective? I called the police and had them trace your call to this hotel.”
“You’re the best detective I’ve ever seen,” I said.
Epilogue
AS IT turns out, Juanita was right. John was her George/Jorge and whoever else he claimed to be. He and his cousin ran all sorts of small-time criminal operations between Mexico and the United States. One of those operations was bringing the families of Mexican girls into the United States with the promise of marriage for the girl and a better life for her family. The groom would then do something—like have other girlfriends show up—to make the girl call off the wedding, and they’d stick her parents with a huge, bogus bill.
John’s cousin also knew some prostitutes who would steal hotel room keys from men visiting the Nuevo Laredo red-light district and sell the keys to him. The cousin would then use the keys to get into the men’s rooms and steal their valuables. Their favorite? The Redbird Hotel, of course.
The cousin had an accomplice who lived in Laredo, Texas. This man would get the valuables to John for him to fence at various locations during his travels with the EIEIO. When the cousin’s accomplice was arrested and jailed on an unrelated theft charge, John’s cousin needed another mule. Dr. Bainsworth was willing to do the job for the money offered him.
The police had found jewelry appraisals at Dr. Bainsworth’s home that indicated he’d had a couple pieces of the jewelry appraised when he crossed the border back into the United States. Bainsworth realized the thief didn’t know what valuable pieces he had. He decided to hang on to the jewelry rather than meet John as he’d promised.
When John learned the EIEIO was coming to Brea Ridge for a benefit concert and to enjoy some downtime, he did his own reconnaissance. He learned Dr. Bainsworth was separated from his wife, and he started seeing Angela. Angela was more bitter than she’d let on about the divorce. Like Myra and me, she couldn’t figure out why her husband would cheat on her with the ugly duckling Jill. Her vulnerability had left the door wide open for John to step through.
When he was comfortable enough in their affair, John told her about Dr. Bainsworth’s transaction with his cousin in Mexico. Angela was only too willing to give John a key to the office in order to recover the stolen jewelry. She stood to gain a small finder’s fee and the satisfaction of thwarting her estranged husband.
That Friday night after the EIEIO got into town, Angela drove John to the dental office. She dropped him off and drove to the back of the Sunoco to wait. Neither of them could have anticipated Myra would lose a filling that night and require Dr. Bainsworth to come into his office. When Angela saw her husband’s SUV pull into his office, she panicked and left. Her conscience got the best of her, though, and she returned to the Sunoco to pick up John, whose thick winter coat hid his bony frame.
John had already looked through the office and was in the exam room when Dr. Bainsworth came in. He hid behind the door and smashed Dr. Bainsworth over the head with an iron doorstop. The police had already found the doorstop and tagged it as evidence, but there had been no fingerprints on it since John had wiped it clean. He claimed to Officers Halligan and Kendall that he never meant to hit the dentist so hard.
After Scottie picked me up and swung me around at the convention hall, the microphone had started going in and out. That’s why Ben and Mark weren’t sure what was going on when John first threatened Myra and me. Prior to setting up outside the convention hall, Mark had brought Officers Halligan and Kendall up to speed. Upon seeing the two of us come out with John, they decided it would be best to hang back and secure further evidence against him. Mark recognized John as Angela’s lover, but they had no idea the man had a gun.
Scottie and the rest of the Elvises have left town. Scottie told me he “sure hated” that John turned out to be such a worm and gave me a bonus, what he called hazardous duty pay. Who knew you could earn hazardous duty pay for feeding a bunch of Elvis impersonators?
So, for the time being, things are back to normal . . . whatever that is. Myra is dating Mark now. She’s hoping to put her trench coat, sunglasses, and fedora to good use again soon.
If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my cake. I’m making a coconut cake for Ben. It’s his favorite. He’s bringing pizza and a movie, and we’re celebrating his decision to let his assistant editor take over some of the responsibilities of the paper so he can spe
nd more time with me.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
FIRST OF all, I’m thankful to God as always for the many blessings he’s given me and my family. I’d also like to thank my agent, Robert Gottlieb, for his encouragement and belief in me and this series; editors Danielle Poiesz and Kathy Sagan; publicist Ayelet Gruenspecht; DeeDee, Lora, and Regina for contributing recipes; and, as always, Tim, Lianna, and Nicholas for their love and support.
Daphne’s Kitchen
Recipes
Pat Tolbert’s Banana Pudding
(Submitted by her daughter DeeDee Kitts)
3½ tablespoons all-purpose flour
1¾ cups plus 2 tablespoons sugar dash of salt
3 eggs, separated
3 cups milk (can use evaporated milk)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 12-ounce package vanilla wafers
6 medium bananas
Combine flour, 1½ cups sugar, and salt in heavy saucepan. Beat egg yolks and milk, mixing well. Stir in dry ingredients. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until smooth and thickened. Remove from heat and add 1 teaspoon vanilla. Let pudding cool some before putting together. Layer about 1/3 of vanilla wafers in the bottom of a 13 x 9–inch (3-quart) baking dish. Slice 2 bananas over them and pour 1/3 of custard over; continue to layer, repeating twice. Beat egg whites until foamy (should be at room temperature). Gradually add remaining sugar and beat to stiff peaks. Add 1 teaspoon vanilla. Spread meringue over custard, sealing to edge of dish. Bake at 425 for 10–12 minutes. Yields 8–10 servings.
If you’re counting calories, you might want to try this lower-cal version: