Клео Коул - Murder Most Frothy

O’Rourke exchanged an unreadable glance with his partner.

“Maybe I should draw you an example,” I quickly suggested. “You know, in the sand?”

“Good idea,” said O’Rourke.

I set to work, crouching down and using my finger to recreate the tracks I’d found. Soon all the officers gathered around to watch. I was lost in concentration, searching my mind in an effort to recall the image. Were there three toes, or four? How big were they exactly? And how far apart? I made a few marks in the sand, erased them and started again. Halfway through the exercise, I looked up to find the policemen clearly suppressing laughter.

“Looks like we’ve found our culprit,” Sergeant O’Rourke quipped, folding big arms over his barrel chest. “The Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Everyone laughed. Even the polite young policeman who’d brought me my robe couldn’t suppress a chuckle. I rose to my full (albeit rather puny) height.

“A decent clue is no laughing matter,” I snapped.

“No it isn’t, ma’am,” Detective Melchior said, obviously stepping in quickly to sooth my ruffled duck feathers. “So why don’t you take me back to the house. You can help me put together a list of everyone Mr. Mazzelli worked with and who you saw him conversing with last night. Let’s see if we can’t narrow down some clues the old-fashioned way and find out who may have had a beef with the victim.”

“But that’s just it,” I said, hands on hips. “Treat Mazzelli wasn’t the intended victim. I believe that the shooter was after David Mintzer.”

O’Rourke and Melchior exchanged glances again. This time I didn’t get the impression they were amused.

“Ma’am, if you know something, it’s important that you tell us,” O’Rourke replied.

“I agree.”

We entered the kitchen a few minutes later. David was awake and completely pulled together. Clearly he’d had a good sleep. His color looked good, a deep tan against white teeth. And, as usual, he was dressed impeccably: tailored ivory slacks, a pale olive shirt, and Italian leather sandals. With a smile, David shook Sergeant O’Rourke’s hand.

“Some coffee? It’s a very special blend, truly delightful. Please help yourselves,” David gestured. Behind him, Alberta Gurt had set up the large table with a pot of Summer Porch, mugs, and a basket of warm croissants next to a replenished bowl of strawberries. Madame hovered nearby. I could see her peeking around the corner, pretending not to eavesdrop.

Without preamble, Sergeant O’Rourke bluntly declared, “Mr. Mintzer, Ms. Cosi tells us that you were the real target of last night’s killer. She believes Mr. Mazzelli’s murder was a case of mistaken identity.” O’Rourke shifted his pale gray eyes in my direction. “Would you care to elaborate, Ma’am?”

“It makes perfect sense,” I began, covering the exact same ground I had done with Madame an hour earlier. “David left the party before the fireworks display and went to his bedroom with a migraine. Anyone would have expected him to be using his own bathroom—not Treat. Both men are about the same height. Both men have short black hair, and both were wearing the same khaki pants and short-sleeved, untucked shirts of nearly the same pinkish color.”

“So are you accusing someone who attended the party? Or perhaps one of Mr. Mintzer’s business associates?” Detective Melchior prompted.

“Oh my god,” David said on an outraged exhale.

“Hold off, Mr. Mintzer,” said O’Rourke. “We want to hear everything Ms. Cosi has to say.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved the initial flippancy I’d experienced over the flippers had changed into serious consideration. “Remember the tracks I found among the dunes?”

O’Rourke’s brow wrinkled unhappily. “The webbed feet, from the ‘Creature’?”

“Oh my god,” David said again.

“From a swimmer wearing fins,” I quickly corrected. “I believe those tracks were made by the shooter.”

Melchior scratched his chin. “Wait a second, Ms. Cosi. We thought you knew something specific. A threat perhaps?”

“Well…I did encounter Marjorie Bright on the property after the party was over. She threatened David.”

“Threatened him how?” Melchior asked. “What were her exact words?”

“She said, ‘Just tell David I’m not through suing him.’”

David snorted.

O’Rourke turned to him. “You don’t consider that out of the ordinary, Mr. Mintzer?”

“A lawsuit? In this town? Puh-leeeze. If there’s a Hamptons pastime more common than suing your neighbor, I don’t know what it is. People file in civil court as often as they file onto tennis courts. Look, Ms. Bright’s already taken local action against me once over my trees being too tall, and I’ve already assumed her lawyers and mine will be playing footsie for some time before our issues are resolved.”

“But, David, what was she doing on your property?” I demanded. “Don’t you find that suspicious?”

“She has no direct access to the beach now that I’ve built on this land,” David replied with a shrug. “Maybe she simply took a walk along the beach and was returning through my property when you caught her. No big deal.”

“If she was on the beach last night, we should interview her,” said O’Rourke, glancing at his partner.

Melchior nodded. “I’ll make a note.”

But that wasn’t enough to satisfy me. Marjorie Bright had been loitering on David’s property, smoking, and stewing, not just passing through. I was sure something was up with her, something bad—and although I couldn’t very well testify to seeing her there for any length of time, I felt in my gut that she meant harm to David.

“What about the diver’s fins,” I argued. “How can you explain their appearance just twenty yards away from the bullet casings on the same night as the shooting?”

“Ma’am, this is a resort area,” said O’Rourke. “Diver’s flippers in the sand aren’t exactly bloody fingerprints on a rifle stock.”

“But I swim or walk every day on that beach. I’ve never seen tracks like that before.”

O’Rourke folded his arms. “And what’s your explanation?”

“It’s possible Marjorie, or another enemy of David’s, paid for someone to do the shooting. The shooter had an employer.”

“So we’re looking for two killers now,” said O’Rourke. “A trigger man and the person who paid for it?” He faced David. “What do you think of Ms. Cosi’s theory, Mr. Mintzer?”

David shifted his surprised gaze from me to the Sergeant. “Why, I think it’s absurd. Ridiculous,” he replied.

It was my turn to be shocked. “David! I—”

“No, Clare,” he interrupted, directing his words to me. “I’m sorry but I have to say this now, because I don’t want any misunderstandings.”

He paused. When he spoke again his tone was measured, his words carefully chosen. “No one is trying to kill me. I completely dismiss the notion that I am a target. No one has threatened me, I have no mortal enemies, nor am I involved in any illegal activities that might provoke the interest of some kind of professional hit man.” David faced the policemen. “I shall cooperate fully in your investigation. I and my staff are available for interviews if you care to speak with us.”

“I’ll need a statement from everyone,” Melchior said.

“And I shall also provide you with a guest list from yesterday’s event.”

“Good,” O’Rourke said. “That would be helpful.”

“I only ask that you not bother my party guests unless you absolutely feel it is necessary to approach them. That said, I want you to do all you can to apprehend the person or persons responsible for this terrible crime.”