11 Hanging by a Hair Read online

  The security man left them alone, closing the door in his wake. Marla sat opposite Herb’s wide mahogany desk, where tiger figurines were placed in various poses. Was that animal his spirit guide? Feathery ornaments decorated the walls along with paintings depicting nature scenes of cypress swamps and long-necked birds.

  Seated at his desk, Herb picked up a black ballpoint pen and twirled it in his fingers. His dark eyes examined her from under his thick brows, while she studied the craggy lines creasing his face. He wore an aura of wisdom like a snakeskin—confidence combined with a certain cunning. She wondered how he saw patients if his office was here. Did he make house calls? Where did his people live?

  He hunched his wide shoulders, encased in a loose-fitting shirt appropriate to the tropical climate. Putting the pen down, he folded his hands on the desk.

  “So what brings you here, Mrs. Vail?”

  Marla crossed her legs. “I presume you heard about Cherry?” She kept her tone noncommittal, watching for his reaction.

  His eyes hardened. “Yes, I’ve spoken to the police.”

  “We were friends, and I’m trying to figure out who might have wanted to harm her. You seemed to have had an intimate discussion with her at our garage sale.”

  “That’s right. She knew about the sacrilege and should have stopped it.”

  “You mentioned bones. Did she discover an ancestral burial site? I imagine that would be a boon to her career as a history professor.” By pretending to know something about Cherry’s affairs, Marla might get him to reveal significant information.

  “So she hoped. He told her to keep quiet about it, but she couldn’t help boasting about her claim to me. She should have known I’d urge her to do the right thing.”

  “He told her to keep quiet? Who do you mean?”

  “Alan Krabber, of course. He’s the one who asked Cherry to authenticate the find. When she agreed, he demanded her silence in return for promising that she could take credit for the discovery. At least he halted construction.”

  Marla’s mind whirled. “So Alan did discover bones in his backyard when workers were digging a hole for his propane tank?”

  “I thought you knew that.” He assessed her with a suspicious gaze.

  “I wasn’t sure if he’d made the discovery or if it had been his workmen.” She moistened her lips, uneasy under his scrutiny. “Both Cherry and Alan skirted regulations. They should have notified local law enforcement about the find. Why didn’t you?”

  “I’d hoped to convince Cherry to come forward, but she wanted me to be the one to rat on Alan.”

  “Why was that?”

  “If you were truly her friend, you would know.” Herb swept a hand over his wide forehead. He wore his longish black hair brushed off his face and tied into a low ponytail.

  Marla sat upright. “I understand Cherry had a love–hate relationship with Alan. She’d been attracted to him at one time, but he turned her down.”

  “She always resented him after that, but couldn’t turn against him. Telling me about his discovery was her way of getting back at him. She promised him she wouldn’t tell the authorities, but didn’t say anything about revealing his secret to me.”

  “Are the two of you related?”

  “We’re distant cousins.”

  “Did Cherry have any other extended family in the area?”

  He shook his head, fingering a glass paperweight on his desk. “Cherry didn’t embrace her heritage. She studied us like we were bacteria on a Petri dish. Our culture fascinated her but she didn’t include herself as a member.”

  “She must have respected your beliefs if she taught others about them?”

  “I believe she did, in her heart. But this dishonor for the spirits has cost her life. Now she is one of them.” A sad, haunted expression crossed his face. “I pray for her to gain the peace she sought in this existence. I pray for the spirits to accept and forgive her.”

  “Do you think someone killed her and Alan Krabber because of the bones?”

  “That’s for the detectives to determine.”

  “Who do you suspect?”

  He steepled his hands and leaned back in his chair. “You live in Royal Oaks. Who stands to lose the most if the neighborhood gets put under a microscope?” His dark gaze swept toward her as she sought a logical response.

  “I don’t know. The builders?”

  “Good answer. This find could be as significant as the Miami Circle.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s an archaeological site discovered in 1998 and believed to be nearly two thousand years old. A perfect circle is cut into the limestone bedrock.”

  Marla thought of crop circles mysteriously found in fields out west, presumed by some to be alien landing sites. “Who put it there?”

  “Possibly the Tequesta. They were one of the first natives whom Ponce de León encountered when he set foot in Florida.”

  “How was the Circle unveiled?”

  “An apartment complex stood on the property. A new buyer tore it down, planning to build a luxury condo building. According to Miami’s historic preservation code, he had to conduct an archaeological field survey before starting construction. The excavation revealed a series of twenty-four holes arranged in a circle and cut into the limestone. They uncovered numerous artifacts as well.”

  “So what happened?”

  “The developer wanted to relocate the circle and continue construction. Preservationists filed a lawsuit to stop further activity. Their injunction was denied, but the builder agreed to wait until the archeologists finished their work. In the meantime, the Miami–Dade County Commission filed a lawsuit to take ownership of the property. The developer agreed to sell and ended up making a profit on the deal.”

  “Sounds like it worked out well for everyone involved.”

  Herb’s lips spread in a half-smile. “The developer got paid off in 1999. By 2002, the site was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.”

  Marla shifted her position. “This is fascinating, but what does it have to do with Alan Krabber?”

  “Similar regulations apply. Any site with human remains has to be examined by an archeological team.”

  “Was the Miami Circle a burial site?”

  “No evidence was found to that effect. The holes were believed to hold posts supporting a structure on stilts, possibly a religious building.”

  “So what’s there now?”

  “It’s a park. The circle itself lies buried.”

  “Do you think Alan shared his find with anyone else besides Cherry?”

  Herb’s eyes gleamed with a peculiar light. “Oh, I know he did.”

  Before Marla could ask another question, a knock sounded on the door and it pushed open. “Sorry to intrude, shaman, but a guest isn’t feeling well. We need you downstairs,” said a man wearing a casino logo shirt.

  “I’ll be right there.” Herb shoved his chair back and stood. “Mrs. Vail, I hope you have a better understanding of how vital it is to preserve our history and the memories of our ancestors. Our tribe isn’t as renowned as others. This will help us gain recognition.”

  Along with some federal grants, perhaps? What was in it for him and his tribe, exactly?

  “Here’s my card in case you think of anything else,” she said, rising. “I appreciate our little chat, Herb.”

  He took her business card and dropped it on his desk. Then he collected a suede sack from a cabinet and hefted it over his shoulder.

  “I can show you the way back to the bingo hall, if you wish.” Stepping toward the door, Herb allowed her to precede him into the hallway.

  “My mother is playing the slot machines.”

  “I thought you came with Angela.”

  She rounded on him. “Angela Goodhart? Why, is she here?”

  “She’s a regular player. I figured you must have driven here together.”

  The fellow who’d come for Herb tugged on his sleeve. “Will you please hur
ry? We don’t want a fiasco like the last time when someone got sick and you weren’t around.”

  “I’m on my way, aren’t I?” Herb hustled along beside Marla. “I hope you’ll spread the word about our burial ground. We regretted having to disrupt your garage sale, but it’s our duty to ensure proper respect for the ancestral spirits.”

  He spoke in a loud tone, making Marla wonder about his status in the tribe. Did he hope this discovery would boost his personal clout? What fiasco had the other guy referred to that involved Herb?

  Wishing she knew more about tribal politics, she hastened downstairs. Herb led her past the bingo hall, where a glass wall allowed her to peer inside. Sure enough, she spotted Angela, head bent, eyes focused on her playing cards.

  Herb knew about her neighbor’s presence here. Were they more than casually acquainted? Was Angela the person Herb had been about to name earlier, the other person to whom Alan had related his discovery?

  Marla’s head spun with possibilities. Shaking away the labyrinth of her thoughts, she hastened forward to collect her mother.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  “I’m worried about our investment in this house,” Marla said to Dalton later that evening in their bedroom. “What if Herb’s tribe presses the government to take back our land? We’re right next door to a potential historical site.”

  He’d just emerged from the shower. Wearing boxers, he towel-dried his hair. Marla’s fingers itched for a blow dryer and hairbrush. Her gaze roamed to his broad shoulders, and her body stirred. She’d never tire of admiring his virile form. He sported hard muscles, unlike her ex-spouse Stan, whose softness had been the price for sitting in a law office all day.

  “I doubt anything that drastic would happen,” Dalton said. “Herb’s people might petition for a memorial park to be built somewhere in the development.” He glowered at her, but the effect was lost as she apprised him in his underwear.

  Marla offered a wicked grin in return and sashayed closer. She’d put on a silk nightgown. Her heart rate accelerated at the flare of interest in his eyes.

  “This could hurt business for the developer. How did your interview go today with Ron Cloakman?” She’d been dying to ask, and this presented the perfect opening.

  “He’s fairly confident that he could stop any attempt at an injunction.”

  “But what if the entire site is riddled with bones? Herb might want to get the property declared a National Historic Landmark, depending on what the archeologists uncover.”

  “I doubt the range is that extensive, but the issue could easily end up in court.”

  “I’m sure Herb will press the issue.” She hesitated. “I spoke to him today, and he seems to be using this discovery to further his personal agenda with the tribe.”

  Dalton dropped his towel and stepped toward her. “You did what?”

  She raised a hand. “Don’t get upset. Ma wanted to go to the Festival Flea Market so we stopped off at the casino first. She had a good time playing the slots. Herb happened to be available, and we had a little chat.”

  “Marla, I warned you against interfering in my investigation. The last thing I want is for Kat to view you as a meddling wife.”

  “You know I’ve given you valuable information over the years. People say things to me that they’re afraid to reveal to the cops.”

  “I may understand as much, but Kat sure as hell wouldn’t see it that way.”

  “Well, I’m so sorry that her opinion counts more than mine.” Marla drew back the comforter on her side of the bed.

  “Hey, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh.” He approached and turned her around, peering down at her with contrite eyes.

  She sniffed his clean soap scent and her tension ebbed. “I want to help, that’s all.”

  “I know, sweetcakes.” His tone softened. “So what did you learn?”

  “I got a hint that Herb is in disfavor with his tribe. He’s going to play this matter for all it is worth to gain stature in the eyes of his colleagues.”

  “We know he’s distantly related to Cherry Hunter, and they were seen talking together at the garage sale. Did he say anything about her death?”

  Marla nodded, her skin tingling where he stroked her arm. “Alan did consult Cherry about the bones he dug up in his backyard. In return for confirming their historical value, she wanted credit at the university for the find. But she wasn’t about to keep quiet. Angry at Alan for spurning her in the past, she told Herb about the bones. Herb indicated that Alan might have revealed his secret to someone else.”

  “Did Herb say who it was?”

  “No, and at first, I thought it might be Angela. Did you know she plays bingo at his casino? Anyway, now I’m thinking Alan must have told Ron Cloakman. Susan spotted him at the garage sale speaking to Cherry. It stands to reason Alan approached the man. Ron’s revenue might be adversely affected by an injunction.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “What if Alan blackmailed the guy in return for his silence?”

  “That’s a distinct possibility. Cloakman denied any role in either of the murders, though. But then again, they all do.” His mouth curved in a cynical smile.

  “Ron’s company would stand to lose millions if the government intervened. Or, if they purchased the land like the Miami Circle, Ron could profit same as the guy who owned that property.” Marla explained about the site further south. “But here’s the thing—why was Cherry talking to Ron? Did he know about her role?”

  “Cloakman is definitely a person of interest.” Dalton’s fingers trailed toward her neck and dipped into her cleavage. “Anyway, can we put these problems aside for now?”

  She lifted her face. “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

  “This.” He lowered his head and kissed her.

  Marla pushed away her deliberations until she was walking the dogs the next morning before work. Dalton had already left the house and Brie had caught the school bus. A sense of peace settled over her as she strode down the sidewalk, admiring the sculpted landscaping at the neighboring houses and the fresh scent of spring. The air was delightfully cool for a stroll. As she passed an empty lot, she wondered what would happen to their community.

  Ron Cloakman wouldn’t be the only person affected if construction had to stop. The three builders involved would also take a hit. And what about the fiasco with defective windows? Which builder had contracted with the supplier, who happened to be a cousin of Alan Krabber? Was Beamis Wood-house to blame for the problem?

  She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Angela pruning her shrubs until she walked past and Angela hailed her.

  “Hello, Marla.” Angela straightened from trimming a bougainvillea bush, her face red with exertion.

  Marla reined in the dogs. She didn’t want them doing their thing on the woman’s lawn. “Hi, Angela. I saw you at the casino the other day.”

  Angela’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

  “I was visiting Herb Poltice to discuss the protest he’d staged at our garage sale. I didn’t know you played bingo.”

  “It’s a hobby of mine. I go twice a week. It gets me out of the house.” Her eyes scrunched. “What did Herb say?”

  “Alan had dug up some bones in his backyard and asked Cherry to authenticate them. Cherry believed the remains might belong to their tribe. Herb is a distant cousin.”

  Angela’s mouth formed an O. “You don’t say? Bones, is it? Not recent ones, I presume.”

  “Cherry was an expert on Native American cultures. That’s why Alan consulted her to verify his find.”

  “That woman had no business interfering.”

  Now it was Marla’s turn to stare in surprise. The sun hit her eyes. She should have worn sunglasses. “What do you mean?”

  “Cherry got involved in too many things. Look at the terrible price she paid.”

  “She was seen talking to Ron Cloakman at the garage sale. Do you know what that was about?”

  “Likel
y it had to do with her role as treasurer. She was responsible for sending our dues over to the master corporation. Someone should have a talk with that man. If anyone had a motive to kill Alan and Cherry, he’d be the person I’d suspect.”

  “Dalton has interviewed Ron, but so far he hasn’t reached any conclusions.” The dogs tugged on their leashes, and Marla moved forward a few feet. “I need to get going. Nice seeing you again.”

  Angela pointed at her. “There’s still hope for you, Marla. I can help.”

  Uh, oh. She’d better pretend ignorance. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “The time is almost here. You’ll be left behind if you don’t embrace Him.”

  “Ah, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” She bit back the retort searing her tongue and hurried on.

  What was wrong with Angela? Maybe her relationship with Alan hadn’t been intimate in the carnal sense like someone had suggested. Maybe they had belonged to the same evangelical church.

  Not wanting to go there, Marla focused instead on Angela’s remark about Cherry and Ron. Had they been discussing the burial site, or something relating to the HOA? Maybe Cherry had discovered that Ron knew about the bones, and she was arguing her case for taking credit. He could have been imploring her to keep silent. Or maybe he’d offered to pay her off.

  She should tell Dalton about these theories. But then again, he’d already interviewed the real estate developer.

  She’d really like to talk to Ron Cloakman, who might have not wished to air his dirty laundry in front of Dalton and Kat. But how could she see him without driving all the way to Brick-ell in Miami?

  During a break at work later that day, Marla phoned his office. As she’d hoped, a secretary answered the phone. Marla never did understand why that moniker had gone out of style. Today people were receptionists or administrative assistants.

  “I need to talk to Mr. Cloakman about his Royal Oaks development. I’m in Palm Haven, and I hate to drive into Miami with the traffic on I-95,” Marla said in a coy tone. “Will he be coming to Broward any time soon?”

  “Actually, he’s giving a presentation to the county commission on Thursday morning. Shall I pencil you in for an appointment while he’s there?”