Thirteen Diamonds Read online

  I didn't dignify her question with an answer.

  Carol looked me straight in the eye and said, “I suspect that you suspect somebody other than the people we've named so far.” The pencil she had been playing with snapped. “Let's investigate this a little further. You took the trouble to find out that Gerald's bequest to Silver Acres was $500,000, not $100,000, as I had said.

  “Then somehow my calendar book disappeared from my purse at Albert's house and then reappeared at my office. This sort of thing doesn't usually happen without some human intervention. And Wesley is suddenly scrutinizing the Silver Acres books, even though he's shown little interest in them during the year-and-a-half he's been president of the residents' association. However, he won't find anything.”

  “What are you driving at?” Joe asked.

  “Lillian thinks that I had something to do with putting the shellfish in the casserole.”

  “But that's not true!” Joe said.

  “Of course not. But you know how these old ladies are when their minds start to go.”

  “We were both in our offices when the alarm went off,” Joe said, looking at Carol. “Somebody turned on the alarm switch by the reception area, but since Ophah was at lunch we don't know who. We were both on the phone and by the time we hung up and came out of our offices the person had disappeared—apparently down the corridor leading to the dining room. Or maybe the alarm switch was faulty.”

  That sounded suspiciously like the gospel according to Carol.

  Joe continued, “The established procedure is for Carol and me to clear everybody out of the building. We started at the reception area and covered the whole building.”

  “Do you each have your own route to clear the building,” I asked, trying to gain some control, “or do you go together?”

  “We go separately,” Joe said before Carol could speak. “It's faster that way.”

  “Was Carol carrying anything when you started out?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Joe said, positively.

  I hoped that Albert would call and I wanted to waste time, so I said, “Clearing the building reminds me of a problem in topology that goes like this: The city of Bridgeton has a river running through it with two islands in the river. One bridge connects the two islands. Four bridges connect one island with the mainland, two to each side of the river. Two bridges connect the other island to the mainland, one to each side of the river. Starting from wherever you wish, is it possible to cross all seven bridges without crossing any one bridge twice?”

  “That's all very interesting,” Carol said, sarcastically, “but hardly relevant to the current discussion.”

  “Not true,” I said. “The layout of this building is two long corridors, parallel to each other, with three cross corridors connecting them, two at each end and one in the middle. A short corridor runs parallel to the two long ones, from the reception area to the center cross-corridor and the dining room. Sort of like a boxy eight with an extra vertical line. Similar to but not as complicated as the puzzle.

  “Rooms go off from each of the corridors. Your offices are at the two corners of one end of the building, with the reception area in between. If you each started your patrol from the reception area and covered all the corridors, between you, at least one of you had to double back, meaning re-cross a bridge, at some point.

  “You're right,” Joe said. “Carol went up the corridor behind the reception desk to the dining room and then over the center cross corridor to the long corridor. There are a couple of rooms between that corridor and her office.”

  “So she had to backtrack toward her office.”

  “Yes.

  “Where did you go?”

  “I went up the other long corridor all the way to the end and took the last cross corridor over to the recreation room.”

  “Did you beat Carol there?” I asked.

  “Yes. She was still checking the library, which is beside the rec room, when I got there. I started back toward the front and passed her as she came out of the library.”

  “Was she carrying anything?”

  “I already answered that question.”

  “But did you get a good look at her?”

  “Well...no; she was partially behind the door of the computer room.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “There was obviously no fire so I went back to the front to shut off the alarm and call off the fire department.”

  “And I went outside to tell you it was all right to go back to your bridge game,” Carol said to me. “So I guess that kills your theory.”

  “You're the one who said it was my theory,” I replied. Then turning to Joe, “How long did it take you to get back to the front of the building and shut off the alarm?”

  “It's a long corridor, but I walk fast. No more than a minute or so.”

  I had to get to Joe. I said, “Okay, Joe, listen to this. When Carol doubled back she could have gone into her office for a moment and taken the shellfish out of her refrigerator. And she didn't come outside where we were until after the fire alarm was turned off—until after you turned it off.”

  I continued, hurriedly, before Carol could respond, “That gave her enough time to go into the rec room, pour the shellfish into the casserole, give it a quick stir, lift up the heating vent, drop the container down the shaft, replace the vent and then come outside to get us.”

  “I told you she's getting soft in the head,” Carol said to Joe.

  “Whose idea was it to replace the heating ducts?” I asked.

  “Don't listen to her,” Carol said.

  “Be quiet,” Joe said. “Lillian is a very smart woman. I want to hear what she has to say.”

  “Joe, Carol has been embezzling money from Silver Acres. She needed the bequest from Gerald to cover it up, but he was too healthy so she speeded up the process. She's a thief and a murderer, Joe.” I stopped to catch my breath and waited for a reaction.

  Joe turned to Carol and said, slowly, “You didn't tell me when I signed that paper that you were going to kill Mr. Weiss.”

  “I didn't want to involve you; you're too soft-hearted. Look, Honey, it was necessary.”

  Honey? I remembered what Gerald's attorney had told me: He had had nothing to do with the codicil to Gerald's will and it had been witnessed by Carol and Joe. I wanted to scream, but it wasn't any use, especially with the door closed. Nobody frequented this part of the building at night.

  Stall for time. “Ellen was in on it, too, wasn't she? She beeped you to tell you when to set off the fire alarm. She gave you the shellfish—actually, lobster.”

  “It is true she wanted to get rid of Gerald,” Carol said, “but of course she isn't in on the money, which was a lucky guess on your part since you don't have any proof. And speaking of money, we need you to make an amendment to your will. I know from my conversations with Albert that you've got bundles to spare. Silver Acres needs it. I've hinted to Albert that you are making a gift to us so he won't be surprised.”

  Albert hadn't said anything to me about that, but he was reluctant to discuss financial matters. The room got very cold. “Joe, you're not a murderer.”

  “Joe will do what I tell him to.”

  From the way he looked at Carol I could see that this was true. “But you and Albert...”

  “Mental stimulation. Albert is a cultured gentleman. Joe, on the other hand, has...other abilities. Isn't that the fantasy of every educated woman, Lillian, to have one man for the bedroom and another for the intellectual side of life? Or are you too old to remember?”

  “I had both in one man.”

  “You were lucky. But now your luck, I'm afraid, has run out.”

  I turned to Joe. “Doesn't that bother you, Carol going out with another man?”

  “He just takes her to concerts and stuff like that. As long as she doesn't sleep with him it's okay.”

  The telephone rang. I waited for Carol to answer it, but she didn't. To get to the phone I would ha
ve to go around her desk. While I debated doing that it went to voice-mail, which I couldn't hear.

  “That's probably your beloved son,” Carol said. “I could have told him you'd be home in half-an-hour, but I don't like to lie to Albert.”

  “I won't sign anything.”

  “What? Oh, you're talking about your will. You don't have to. We have your signature on file. We'll scan it into the computer—isn’t technology wonderful—and print it on an official document lightly enough so that when we trace over it with a pen it will look like an original signature. We had plenty of practice with Gerald's.

  “Then Joe and I will witness it and we'll be all set. I know you had a strongbox in your apartment where you stored some of your official documents. I looked in your room last time I was at Albert's and saw it there. At your funeral I'll have a chance to slip the original of your amendment in the box, where Albert will find it.”

  “Why would I want to give money to Silver Acres now that you've kicked me out?”

  “Oh, it will be dated several weeks ago. You just haven't gotten around to rescinding it yet.”

  “Albert won't buy it.”

  “Yes he will. I have Albert wrapped around my...”

  “Be careful,” Joe growled.

  “It's just an expression, Honey.”

  What should I do now? If I told Carol that Wesley already knew she had embezzled money, they would kill him too. And I didn't want them going after Tess, or Albert, or anyone else.

  “You've got a roll of duct tape in your office, don't you?” Carol asked Joe. He nodded. “Go get it. Hurry. And close those blinds on your way out.”

  The blinds were for the window on Carol's door. Joe closed them, went out and shut the door behind him. Nobody could see into the office. Carol opened a drawer of her desk and pulled out a gun.

  CHAPTER 28

  “So what are you going to do to me?” I asked Carol, eyeing the gun. The gun made my predicament, which had seemed like a dream, suddenly very real to me.

  “Oh, right. I haven't told you. Well, you're going to have an accident, driving home. Your eyesight, you know, poor dear. After all, you do have cataracts in both eyes.”

  Damn those medical records. “Would you like to fill me in on the details?”

  “Sure. Joe, among his other accomplishments, has been a movie stunt man. Car crashes are part of his repertoire. You're going to be in the driver's seat, but he'll be at the controls. And he'll be wearing a seat belt. You won't, of course, and your car is too old to have an air bag.”

  Joe came in with the duct tape. “Tape her mouth shut,” Carol said. “Tape her legs together and tape her hands behind her back.”

  Joe did as he was told, quickly and efficiently, without looking me in the eye.

  “Come with me,” Carol said to Joe. He followed her out of the office and closed the door.

  What now? Could it be that Carol had to convince Joe of his role in this shenanigan? Joe had apparently not been part of the team that had effected Gerald's demise so he was not yet a murderer. Whatever the delay, it bought me a little time.

  To do what? Not time enough to free my hands. And I couldn't move anywhere without expending more energy than I had to expend. My purse sat on the floor beside my chair. My cell phone was in my purse. Could I get to it?

  I slid down from my chair to the floor, trying not to break anything. I wriggled into a position where I could reach my purse with my hands. I got my hands inside the purse and found the phone. I pulled it out and managed to move my hands in tandem around to one side of my body far enough to look at the phone and refresh my memory as to where the keys were.

  With some effort I could punch the keys. How could I use it? Call 911? No, because a cell phone doesn't have a location and I couldn't speak. Leave a message? What kind of a message? I could beep Carol. What number would I leave? That would be a momentary distraction, at best.

  I knew one other person who had a beeper. Mark carried a beeper because the bar he worked at sometimes asked him to come in at odd hours. Since the only remaining requirement for his Ph.D. was to finish his dissertation his time was flexible.

  I knew Mark's beeper number because he had told it to me after the escapade at Ellen's apartment. He had said to call him if I ever needed help. It was 543-9625, an easy number to memorize: descending sequence for three digits, starting with five, then three squared, three times two, two, and ending with the first digit—five.

  I punched in the number and hesitated; what return telephone number should I give? The telephone number to my apartment had been cancelled. If Mark called it he would get an out-of-service message, but he had called me before and perhaps he would recognize it as belonging to me. I punched it in and disconnected.

  I connected again and repeated the process: Mark's number, wait a few seconds for the tone, which I couldn't hear, my number, disconnect; connect and repeat. I did the sequence over and over again, like sending out an SOS from a sinking ship. I became obsessed with doing it as many times as I could, punching the buttons faster and faster. My heart raced and I gasped for breath, needing to breathe through my taped mouth. I half collapsed on the floor.

  Carol and Joe returned to the room and found me like this, the phone still in my hand. Joe wore a motorcycle helmet, padding used by in-line skaters on elbows and knees, and gloves. I knew he had a motorcycle; I didn't know he skated.

  “Well, what have we been doing?” Carol asked, plucking the phone from my hand. “Trying to call for help? You look sick; don't have a heart attack. Or maybe it would solve all our problems if you did.”

  I immediately forced myself to relax and steadied my breathing. I glanced at Joe; he looked as unhappy as I felt.

  “Okay, Joe,” Carol said, “you know what to do. Go get Lillian's car and bring it right up to the front door. Then come back inside and put her in. The keys are in her purse.”

  Joe looked inside my purse. He said, “I can't find anything in there.”

  My purse is no more cluttered than anybody else's, but Carol took it and said, “Do I have to do everything myself?” She plunged her hand into the purse and came up with my keys. I thought, fingerprints, but a lot of good they would do me.

  Joe went to carry out his mission and Carol packed up for the night. She stuffed a few papers into her attaché case and then she dropped in the gun.

  Joe came back way too soon and Carol went out the front door; Joe watched her from the office window. Carol's telephone rang. I looked at Joe but he ignored it. The ringing stopped.

  When Carol signaled, Joe picked me up as if I were a large pillow and carried me rapidly to the front door. The parking lot was deserted because the residents were eating in the dining room and there weren't likely to be any visitors at this hour.

  The passenger-side door to my car was open. Joe set me on the seat and closed the door. He exchanged a few more words with Carol that I couldn't hear and then got into the driver's seat of my car and off we went.

  CHAPTER 29

  I turned my head and saw Carol following us in her Mercedes. Where were we going? Joe didn't say anything; he was intent on driving. I started making noises, trying to tell him to take the tape off my mouth. At first he ignored me; when I kept it up he must have realized that I could be seen from other cars so he ripped it off in one quick movement.

  It hurt like hell and I screamed. Joe gave me a warning glance and I stopped. I said, “How about taking the tape off my arms and legs?”

  “And have you attack me?”

  “You're not afraid of an old lady like me, are you?”

  “You old dames are the worst.”

  Did he think I was going to give him a karate chop? “Where are we going?”

  “To your son's private road.”

  I never would have guessed it but it was completely logical and completely diabolical. The mile-plus road almost never had any traffic, except for family members. Trees—large trees—flanked both sides of the road. Perfect fo
r crashing a car into. Everyone would think I had lost control of the car on the way home.

  Joe drove at a moderate speed so as not to attract attention. I figured I had about twelve minutes. I said, “Joe, you're not a murderer yet. Your only crime so far is forgery. That might get you a few years in jail, but you know the penalty for first degree murder.”

  He didn't say anything, just concentrated on his driving. I couldn't see his face very well because of the helmet. I wasn't getting through to him.

  “Joe,” I said, “you said you didn't care if Carol went out with Albert, as long as they didn't sleep together. Well, guess what they did Sunday evening.”

  “No! You're shittin' me.”

  “It's true, Joe. I live in Albert's house now and I know. I heard them go upstairs together. The master bedroom is upstairs, Joe. They didn't come down again until many hours later. You know as well as I do what they were doing.”

  Joe didn't speak but he sped up. That didn't bode well for me; it meant that my demise would come that much sooner. I said, “Carol loves your bod, but yours isn't the only one she loves. You don't have an exclusive on her, much as you'd like to.”

  Joe looked in the rearview mirror. I twisted around and saw that Carol's car still followed us. “If you go past Albert's road and take the first left,” I said, “you'll come to a police station in about a mile. Go there, Joe. Give yourself up.”

  I kept talking, trying to persuade him. I couldn't tell whether my words were having any effect. When we got to Albert's road he stopped at the intersection. Carol stopped behind him. He got out and walked back to her car. They talked for several minutes.

  Joe returned to my car; I hoped he was going to drive on to the police station, but he turned into Albert's road instead. My heart sank. I twisted around and saw that Carol had also turned into the road but then stopped. She apparently wasn't going to follow us any farther.

  Joe drove around several bends and down a hill until we were out of sight from Carol but still out of sight from Albert's house. As we came around a right-angle turn there were three deer smack in the middle of the road. Joe slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop. The deer regarded us with insouciant stares and didn't move.