Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [118]
After everyone had assembled with expressions of curiosity, Biff spoke again. “Rick is going to tell us who killed Mags, Dixie, and Émile. Go ahead, Rick. It’s all yours.”
“Nonsense!” Erma exclaimed.
“Piffle,” said Horace.
“Is this a joke?” Ambrose inquired.
Rick shook his head. “It’s no joke. Murder isn’t a laughing matter. The problem with this case,” he began, “is that it seemed so complicated. It was not just one murder, but three, each with a different method. There was a jewel robbery. There was blackmail.”
Rick didn’t seem to notice Connie’s shudder, but Judith did. She also saw that Erma was looking indignant. Biff was staring at Connie as if he were about to pounce.
“Easy, Biff,” Rick murmured before taking another sip of his martini. “I’ve just started. We know now that Erma’s real jewels were never stolen, only the imitations.”
“How dare you?” Erma shouted, struggling to rise from her regal chair.
Biff jabbed a thumb at the angry woman and looked inquiringly at Rick, who shook his head.
“Calm down, Erma,” Rick said with a droll expression. “You remain a victim, in a way. I’m not suggesting that you stole your own jewels. You sold them, perhaps not illegally. The insurance claim is a fraud, of course. But you were coerced—and fleeced—by Horace.”
Judith noticed that Horace had gotten very red in the face. She was certain that he was apoplectic. It was, she thought, a good thing that a doctor was in attendance. Once again, Biff looked questioningly at Rick; once again, Rick shook his head—and polished off his drink.
“Liar!” shouted Horace. “Why, you—”
“Please,” Rick said calmly as Rhoda brought her husband another martini. “Let me finish. You were in a bind, Horace. The post–9/11 era hasn’t treated you kindly. It’s adversely affected Erma, too. You were both strapped for ready cash. That was especially unfortunate for you, Horace, because you had deadlines to meet for the construction of your sponge-and-cork museum. Contractors and subcontractors like to get paid. You had to come up with some money fast. They can be tough customers, and at least one of them made some nasty threats.”
“I can handle them,” Horace growled.
“I could handle some more liver pâté,” Renie whispered, edging Flakey out of the way.
“I doubt you could handle a couple of those contractors’ goons, old boy,” Rick said. “But the jewel heist had nothing in and of itself to do with the murders. The blackmail, however, is another matter.” He cast a glance at Connie, who was cowering next to Paul. “My dear, I know you were victimized by a pair of ruthless crooks. Dixie Beales and Émile Grenier intended to soak you for a big wad of dough. You’re rich, but not rich in the way that really…” He feigned embarrassment and downed more gin. “Well, you all know what I mean. Mags was very successful, but the San Rafael cost a bundle to build. The cruise business has also suffered since 9/11, though it’s been improving. But other problems persist, including a fight with the state and city over dumping in the bay, the need for a new pier in at least two ports of call, additional security, and general updating of the already existing fleet. Mags gave you a hefty allowance, but that was your only personal source of income. Money from your father dried up years ago.”
“That’s not true!” Connie wailed. “Paul,” she cried, starting to sob, “tell them it’s not true! Papa’s rich!