Unknown - 19_Cat_In_A_Red_Hot_Rage

Starla sighed as they watched them walk to the junker Impala. “I almost like the Brothers F more down and dirty and a little unshaven.” The other women murmured seconds, but Temple was too exhausted to join the chorus.

“I need to get home and get out of these disreputable jeans and sneakers,” Temple said. “And don’t nobody say they like me better this way.”

The Red-Hatted League linked arms and chanted, “We like you any way!”

“Thanks, doll!” Electra broke free to give Temple a hug that almost lifted her off her feet. “I can finally retire Elmore to the Dump of Dubious Exes.”

“Aren’t you coming back to the Circle Ritz with me?”

“No, I’m going out for a celebratory drink of Johnnie Walker scotch with the girls. You’re welcome to join us.”

“No, just bring me back to my Miata at the Crystal Phoenix.”

“I’ll take her back.” Alch was suddenly out on the sidewalk with them.

That broke up the gang.

“I want to talk to you privately,” he added, smiling to watch the other women scatter like squirrels in the presence of a cat. “Come on back up.”

Temple did.

The main room was still teaming with desks and detectives and intense talk and shrill phones ringing. Alch’s corner was just like that, and probably a perk. Even a lieutenant like Molina had only a tiny hidey-hole of an office.

Temple had been on red alert since arriving, but had not spotted a trace of Molina, although Su was glowering at her from another desk-computer setup.

“Get you some coffee?” Alch asked.

Temple had spied the large aluminum urn on her way in. The sides were spattered with dark brown spots and it was surrounded by stacks of foam cups and spilled packets of powder and granules that looked like a dope dealer’s rejects.

“No, thank you.”

“You look like you’ve been up all night.”

“Gee, thanks. I was.”

Alch softened. “That ring of yours still sparkles like the morning dew.”

“Thanks.” Temple had forgotten it and glanced at the reassuring rubies, red for truth and devotion. The color of love, of blood, of the Red Hat Sisterhood.

She saw her copies of the video recordings on Alch’s paper-covered desk.

“Why was Newman making a second set of recordings?” he asked now that no one was around to overhear.

“That’s her motive. I told you a little about it. Her mother joined the Red Hat Sisterhood. That was either proceeded by, or simultaneous with, Mollie Markowitz deciding that her marriage was stultifying and over with.”

“So. That happens every day all over the U.S. of A. That happened with my own marriage. And beg your pardon, Miss Barr, but ‘proceeded by’ and ‘simultaneous with.’ Are you testifying in court as an expert witness, or what?”

“I’m an expert video watcher now!”

“Aren’t we all nowadays?”

“You mean all the live TV news ‘chases.’ While Natalie was secretly taping another distorted side of the convention, she was inadvertently capturing someone else operating clandestinely.”

“How’d she do this secret recording?”

“Like the undercover TV news investigators do it. Concealed camera in a bag. They’re so small today. It’s a snap.”

“Why she’d do it?”

“Her motive. Her mother left her father after she joined the Red Hat group. Natalie was her father’s daughter. He’d been a newspaperman back in the days when print media mattered. I looked him up online. Jacob Markowitz, a crusading reporter of the old school, reporter’s notebooks and typewriter. Did some noteworthy stories on Vietnam vets when nobody wanted to look at their side of the story the public had sickened of. Sixty-seven years old. Retired. Expecting a calm life. He had a heart attack and died. Not uncommon for a retiring newspaperman. Deadlines will eat up your cardiac system. Natalie must have blamed her mother and the Red Hat Sisterhood, where the longtime homemaker suddenly started wanting to get around with the girls.”

“What did getting around with the girls mean?”

“Well, she met this male stripper. I bet it was just some silly, post-menopausal crush. If everybody had left it alone, it would have vanished. The Jersey Lily Redbirds chapter reported that Jacob demanded a divorce and Natalie came home to support him. Before the couple could divorce, or reconcile, Jacob died, the mother inherited the mantle of bereaved widow and the estate, and Natalie had a lot of scores to settle.”

“So someone at the Red Hat Sisterhood knew she was doing them a dirty turn and talked about it, tipping off Candace?”

“My aunt Kit, an ex-actress, tipped me off about the camera. But Candace, having murdered once, was probably watching us all like a red-and-purple hawk.““Your aunt. Aldo’s new girlfriend.”

“Right.” Temple waited for him to comment on the age difference, given that it mirrored what Mollie Markowitz had done. “Cool lady,” was all Alch said. “Might have asked her out myself if I wanted to ruffle some Fontana feathers.”

“Don’t mention feathers! I have seen enough of them at this convention to even swear off pillows plumped with the stuff.”

Alch chuckled. “So what did you find on that video recording?”

“I didn’t see it at first, but I was-looking at the unflattering portrayal of the Red Hat Sisterhood, which is an indirect client of mine.”

He nodded.

“Last night I went through sections frame by frame in that clever stop-action mode that DVD players have.”

“You can run a DVD player? This new technology has me beat. Lucky Matt Devine. Can you program a TiVo? I might offer him some competition.”

“I can run it because a Fontana brother gave me an extensive short course, Detective. I’m not a techie, either.”

“I’m crushed, but you’re a credit to your gender anyway.”

“I slowed down the segments of them setting up the convention shops, before Oleta’s body was discovered, and the segments before the Black Hat/Red Hat debate.”

Alch nodded seriously, all joshing over.

“I found some things I think Natalie did too. Only she made the mistake of doing something about them.”

“Blackmail?”

“Right.”

“That will get a body killed. It’s a rewarding crime, because if you shut up the source, the entire problem goes away forever. What’d you spot, kid?”

“Elmore Lark.”

“We’ve processed the physical evidence around Newman’s body. Nothing ties Elmore Lark into it.”

Temple sighed. “Natalie’s video ties him into Oleta’s murder scene, and the attempt on his own life.”

“How?”

“I didn’t see it until several run-throughs, but he’s one of the hotel setup guys working on Oleta’s booth. He’s wearing a painter’s jumpsuit and cap, but it’s clearly Elmore.”

“And—?”

“She caught him on video before the debate, by the hall drinking fountain, gulping down some sort of capsule.”

“You mean he didn’t chew the poison, but took it before?”

“Right. He could probably control the dose better. And, from the recording, he seems to be faking the collapse. Probably to make it look worse than it was.”

“Trying to poison himself is just stupid, it’s not a crime. And the Black Hat Brotherhood is a protest group. They might have sent a member in undercover. None of this proves anything.”

“It proves Natalie could have tried to blackmail him, which drove Candace to kill her.”

“Why?”

Temple had to think about that one. “Maybe Natalie didn’t try to blackmail him. Maybe she recognized she had a big story in her little camera. Maybe she tried to interview him, get some more prime video, and gave away that she knew too much. She didn’t know when to stop. She’d been pretty heavy-handed about filming the convention.