Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (10 page)

“It was so fast, Joe. I don’t know who it was.
My head got hit and I fell down. Then he hit me again. It was a bat or something. I pushed the alarm button on my keychain and he ran. That’s all I know.”

Joe could see that she had been sedated; her eyes were closing. He turned his attention to the doctor and, out of habit, stuck out his hand.

“I’m Joe Garrett,” he said, checking out the doctor’s name tag. “Dr. Leyva?”

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking Joe’s hand.

“What’s her prognosis, Doctor?” asked Joe.

“It’s a fractured fibula, not a major weight-bearing bone,” he said, putting up the x-
ray. “She doesn’t need surgery. The break is high and it’s lined-up straight. You can see it right here,” he said, pointing. “And there doesn’t appear to be any damage to the tibia.

“That’s the good news. The bad news is that she’ll be on crutches for three or four weeks, then she’s going to need some physical therapy. She has a concussion, so we’re going to keep her overnight as a precaution. You’ll be able to take her home tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“She’ll be fine,” said Dr.
Leyva, as he left the room.

Julie’s eyes fluttered open.

“Go to sleep, honey. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Joe pulled up a chair and stayed, holding Julie’s hand, until her breath was coming slow and easy and she was sound asleep.

Then he drove home…in a cold rage.

This has to be connected with Dianna’s murder.

Who the hell
is
this bastard?

* * * * * 

Chapter
18

“C
lose the door, please, Luz.”

Julie’s Latina assistant looked like a worried duenna leaving her young charge alone.

“All right,” said Luz. “But you call out if you need me. I can hear you even with the door closed.”

Hmm…I’ll keep that in mind.

She phoned Joe across the foyer. He picked up right away.

“I swear, Joe, if they don’t stop interrupting me, I’m going to have to take this whole file home,” said Julie,
sotto voce
. “It’s bad enough that Luz is coming in every fifteen minutes to see if I’m alright, but Janet’s been in my office twice this morning, too! First she brought me flowers, then
soup
. I can’t concentrate with these mother-hens clucking around me.”

Joe smiled, chuckling at the picture of Julie, sitting in her office with her left leg propped up, steaming, like her soup.

“Julie says to tell you the soup is
wonderful
, Janet,” he said loudly.

Janet, now back at her desk, beamed. “The poor thing,” she said. “Tell her I’ll bring her some more to take home.”

“I’m going to kill you
,” said Julie on the phone.

•

At quarter to five, Joe joined Julie in her office. Among other things, she’d been going through Dianna Wieland’s file piece by piece. As for Joe, he’d been tied up all afternoon testifying in court on another case.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“It was a pain. I spent two hours sitting on a bench outside the courtroom waiting for them to call me. When they did, it was over in fifteen minutes. Plus, I think my guy is toast, anyway.”

“Here, let me help you,” he said as she lifted her booted leg off the cushions.

“I can manage, thank you,” she said, grabbing her crutches.

“Right,” said Joe, moving out of her way. “The way you swing those things, you’re liable to break
my
leg.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up. What do you want for dinner? Italian? Chinese? Steak? I can make steak. Do you still have that patio grill?”

He really is sweet.

“I’d love some steak. Do we have to stop at the store?”

“Nope.
I’ve got two upstairs. I’ll be right down.”

Since the attack, Joe had been driving Julie back and forth. Her condo building had an elevator, making it more practical than his apartment upstairs. In minutes, he was back with a tote bag of steaks, salad and wine. He grabbed the file on Dianna Wieland, too, and led the way out, holding the doors open for Julie.

When they arrived at her condo, Julie keyed in the code on her new electronic keypad. Joe had installed the new super-bolt door lock, which emitted a shrill alarm if an incorrect code was entered three times. In an excess of caution, he’d also reinforced the French doors around the balcony.

They sat out there now, Julie sipping on some Cabernet, while the steaks cooked.

“I thought of a couple of things today, Joe.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“First, Sabrina Nolen
was
Mike Menello’s alibi. That doesn’t make his alibi any less valid, except that she was visibly uncomfortable when I brought up his name.”

“I remember that,” said Joe. “She sat back and crossed her arms.”

“Yes. You know how I’ve always cautioned that one gesture alone is not as significant as a cluster?”

He nodded.

“Well, two movements we frequently see together are ‘interrupt’ gestures. Like children in school, we all tend to raise a hand when we want to interrupt, eager to say something. But we don’t stick the hand up in the air anymore. We catch ourselves five or six inches up and reach for our earlobe, unconsciously embarrassed.”

“I’ve done that,” said Joe smiling. “But Sabrina didn’t do that.”

“No. She did
exactly the
opposite
, in rapid order.

“Sabrina didn’t like the question about Mike
Menello, so she sat back and crossed her arms. When I pressed her about his ‘hard feelings’ regarding Dianna, she undid her arms and tugged her earlobe indicating anxiety,
then
her other hand inched up slightly, meaning, ‘halt, or stop’. At that point she looked at her watch and we were done.

“That cluster indicates more than a reluctance to talk, Joe. Sabrina is
worried
.”

“Do you think she lied for him?”

“I think it’s possible.”

“Okay. What else?”

“Kate Winslow said that Dianna was ‘
in love’
. That was Kate’s impression just two days before Dianna died at the end of January. I don’t think she was in love with Lincoln Tyler. Apparently by her own choice, she hadn’t seen him in two months.”

“So there’s another guy.”

“Bingo,” said Julie. “People who knew Dianna have described her in a lot of ways. Barry Costello said she was beautiful but not vain, that she was generous, a volunteer with kids. Sabrina Nolen said she was fun to be with. They’ve talked about Dianna’s
other
faces, too. Kate Winslow said she was ambitious and somewhat secretive. Evelyn Hoag said she tended to be naïve.

“One thing’s for sure, though; Dianna made an indelible impression on people she interacted with. At some level, they miss her. They all wanted to talk about her.

“All, except for one person:
Lee Porter.

“Looking back on it, I realize
that Porter said virtually
nothing
about Dianna
.
When I spoke with him, I noticed right away that he was reluctant to talk to me, but I presumed it was about the complaint against Bay Street Realty. Seasoned attorney that he is, he took full advantage of my preoccupation with that complaint. By focusing my attention on Mike Menello, Lee Porter took
himself
completely off my radar.”

“And Porter is
married
,” said Joe.

“Right.
Dianna told Kate there were some ‘issues’. Her baby’s father being married to someone else would certainly qualify as an ‘
issue
’. It would also be a naïve and hopeful way to describe the situation, which fits with Evelyn Hoag’s description of Dianna believing ‘in happy endings’.”

“So you think Evelyn Hoag knew about it.”

“If it
was
Lee Porter, she would have had to. Dianna couldn’t contact Porter at his home. Their communication would have gone through the office. Plus Evelyn and Dianna were ‘close friends’. And how did that friendship come about? Maybe because Evelyn was a
confidante
, is my guess. As Porter’s secretary, she was probably an unwilling facilitator for the two of them.”

“So, now what?
We can’t confront Lee Porter with guesses.”

“No. Our only shot is Evelyn.”

* * * * * 

Chapter 19

E
velyn Hoag arrived at Julie’s condo at half-past five the next evening. Thanks to Joe’s hurried trip to the market, Julie had managed to prepare a platter of French bread, smoked turkey, sliced apples and Brie. The two women sat on the balcony, Julie with her back to the lake and her booted leg propped on a chair. Sol, always comfortable with women, was lying near Evelyn who was relaxing and enjoying the view. In between sips of Chardonnay, she absently stroked his back.

“I’d already made up my mind to contact you, Julie. I owe that much to Dianna.”

“Thanks for coming here,” said Julie. “I haven’t tried to navigate a restaurant yet with these crutches.”

Prior to Evelyn’s arrival, Julie had prepared for the questions she would ask about Lee Porter. When she opened the door, the first thing Evelyn asked about was the boot, for which Julie was completely
un
prepared. Not wanting to alarm her or divert their conversation, Julie had quickly come up with a plausible story. “A running injury,” she’d said. “I snapped my fibula. I won’t be able to run again for at least three months.” Not until that moment had Julie realized just how much she missed her morning run around the lake.

As planned, Julie proceeded with the assumptive tactic she’d used on the phone.

“So when did their affair start, Evelyn?”

“About two years ago. Amazing, isn’t it? Keeping something like that a secret here in Orlando. But they met outside of town and went to secluded inns in out-of-the-way places, like Mt. Dora and Lake Helen.” Her face suddenly contorted with pain. “Oh,” she said, leaning forward. Her face was in her hands now, her dark hair like a veil closing from the sides.

“What is it?” asked Julie, alarmed.

“Lake Helen.
They went there first. I was remembering what she told me about the fortune teller…”

* * * * * 

Chapter
20

March 14, 2008

“I
’ve never been to Lake Helen,” said Dianna. “Where is it?”

“It’s about an hour north on I-4, before you get to Daytona. Can you leave now? We can meet at the Amtrak station in Sanford. I’ll leave my car there and we’ll go the rest of the way in yours, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine, Lee. It’s more than fine, it’s wonderful!”

Dianna was elated as she selected just the right lingerie. In less than ten minutes she had gathered her things and was in her Lexus, headed northeast on I-4. She had been yearning for this tryst with Lee for more than a year. For all that time they had been attracted to each other, drawn inexorably closer with each mutual business meeting.

In the beginning, she had rebuked herself on moral grounds.

He’s married. He’s forty-three.

But their eyes continued to hold each other a little longer on each occasion and it became increasingly difficult to concentrate on the day’s business. Sitting next to Lee at a conference table full of others was tantalizing…the stuff of guilty, x-rated dreams.

Finally, he had asked her to lunch. Briefcases in tow, they took a table in a Winter Park restaurant, all alone in a crowd. More lunches and shared confidences followed, and Dianna’s moral paradigm shifted.

He doesn’t love Sylvia. They have no children. Our ages don’t really matter.

Dianna was a romantic, but she was also an intelligent woman who had moved from rationalization to analysis. Despite the evening commuter traffic between Orlando and Sanford, the miles flew by as she thought about the two of them.

Lee Porter was a father figure, of that she had no doubt.

It wasn’t that Dianna’s dominating father didn’t love her. She knew that he did, but
only as an extension of himself. As an adult, Dianna had come to accept this shortcoming. But it was too late to repair damage already done.

As a toddler, she’d learned to skate to please her father. As she grew older and won skating awards, her Dad, an ex-hockey player, had basked in reflected glory. They were inseparable and happy. Unfortunately, when Dianna was fifteen, she could no longer deny the true framework of their relationship. She was telling her father about a friend who worked as a counselor at a summer camp, going on about the kids and the things they did, when she realized that he was looking at her with blatant disinterest. It was hardly the first time, just the first time she acknowledged it. Her father had
no
interest in her personal musings because they did not involve him. She loved him for himself, and he loved her for
himself
. It was all about
him
. The crushing truth of it came too suddenly, at a vulnerable age. It blew their once-close relationship apart.