Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [42]
“What about Captain Swafford and Émile Grenier?” Judith asked. “Oh, and Dixie Beales.”
Renie paused as a trio of Japanese businessmen seated themselves at the next table. The bar was beginning to fill up. “Since they’re all part of the crew,” she said, “I assume they were based out of the headquarters at home. It’s possible they’ve been put up at a hotel—not to mention Dr. Selig—though I doubt they’re staying anywhere as lavish as the St. Francis.”
The lemonades arrived. Renie informed the server that they’d be ordering food a bit later.
“I’d like to know,” Judith said as four very chic matrons passed by, “what, if anything, Rick and Rhoda St. George have found out. We should compare notes. Do you think they’d be in the phone book?”
“Possibly,” Renie replied, wincing. “Unfortunately, here comes someone who could tell us.”
Judith looked around Renie to see Biff McDougal huffing up the short staircase. He looked as out of place in the Compass Rose as Saddam Hussein at a Baptist picnic.
“Hey, there,” Biff called out, making several well-coiffed heads turn. “I gotta talk to you two.”
Clumsily, Biff pulled up an empty chair from a nearby table and plopped himself down. He didn’t remove his hat, which evoked disapproving stares from the elegant matrons and the Japanese businessmen.
“Shoulda questioned you while you were still on the boat,” Biff said, talking around the ever-present toothpick. “Too many witnesses, couldn’t catch up with ’em all.”
“But you’re making progress?” Judith asked innocently.
“Huh?” The toothpick dangled from Biff’s lower lip. “Oh, well, sure, but it’s only been…what? Twelve hours or so?”
Judith didn’t correct him. “Roughly,” she said, remembering Joe’s adage that if progress wasn’t made in the first twenty-four hours of a homicide case, the trail quickly turned cold.
The server was moving toward Biff, but the detective waved him away. “Let’s start with you, Mrs. Jones, seeing as how I worked with your hubby awhile back.”
For an instant, Renie looked puzzled. “My…? Oh!” she said with a little laugh, recalling the tall tale she’d given to Biff. “Yes, yes. I thought you said ‘Bubby.’ That’s my brother-in-law.”
“Yeah, right.” Biff rearranged the rumpled folds of his raincoat. “So how well did you know the vic?”
“The…?” Again, Renie seemed briefly befuddled. “You mean, the victim, Magglio Cruz?”
“Har har.” Biff chuckled. “Who’dya think I mean, Barry Bonds?”
Renie’s expression was arch. “No. I thought you meant his father, Bobby.”
Biff looked surprised. “You a baseball fan?”
Renie nodded. “You want stats or do you want to catch a killer?”
“Yeah, right,” Biff mumbled. “Where was I?”
“Back in Candlestick Park forty years ago,” Renie said drily. “You asked how well I knew Magglio Cruz. The answer is fairly well, but in a working relationship. I was the graphic-design artist for most of the cruise line’s publications.”
“Oh, yeah?” Biff tried to look as if he knew what Renie was talking about. “I heard you had a row with Cruz when he moved the company down here. You made some threats, too.”
“Of a legal nature,” Renie replied, wearing the serious expression that Judith called her cousin’s “boardroom face.”
Biff rolled the toothpick around his mouth. “You patched things up?”
“Yes. We came to a satisfactory agreement.”
“Like a bribe, with this free cruise and fancy digs?” He waved a hand, presumably taking in the entire hotel.
“It wasn’t a bribe,” Renie declared. “It was compensation for any misunderstanding between us. I’m still a consultant to the Cruz line.”
“Oh?” Biff’s small eyes got even smaller. “You sure? Now that Cruz is a goner, I mean.”
“There’s hardly been time to discuss business,” Renie asserted in her haughtiest tone.
“Huh.” Biff paused. “So Cruz getting whacked wasn’t good news for you, right?”
“Of course not. Aside from the work connection, I liked him.”
The detective went silent again before turning to Judith. “How about you, toots?”
“Toots?” Judith scowled at Biff.