TURTLE DOVE (Alton Rhode Mysteries Book 7) Read online

  I might have felt used, but since she asked me to shower with her, I decided not to hold a grudge. Especially after she asked me to lather her up.

  ***

  It was going to be a beach wedding, but since the chairs and other equipment wouldn’t be set up until the next day, the wedding party went through its paces inside the Shoals Club prior to the rehearsal party. Barry was Jewish and had brought along his own rabbi, who happened to be a college chum of his. The guy was single, had long flowing hair and spent much of his time hitting on two of Laurene’s bridesmaids. There were six bridesmaids in all, two of whom were Barry’s married sisters. Two were women she had met while traveling in Barry’s circle and two, the ones the rabbi paid the most attention to, were from her former life as a paid escort.

  “I wonder what Rabbi Klein would say if he knew Wabiba and Annette are hookers,” Laurene said to me at one point.

  “I don’t think it would matter,” I replied. “They are knockouts.”

  “I think it is quite fitting, Alton. You know what they say. Marriage is just another form of prostitution.”

  “You can’t kid a kidder, Laurene. You and Barry don’t need each other’s money and don’t care a fig for the past. You’re in love.”

  “What about you and Alice? Gonna get hitched?”

  “Subject hasn’t come up. She’s just starting her career in the Ivy’s, at Barnard. I’ve got nothing against the institution. Marriage, I mean. But we have time. We’ll see what happens.”

  “She’d be a fool to let you go,” Laurene said with conviction. “And vice versa. She knows that I’ve tried to bop you, and still treats me like a princess. That’s special. Even though she knows you’re more of a father figure now.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Uncle figure?”

  “Please stop.”

  Laurene laughed.

  “Do you remember that time you slapped some sense into me in the hotel room, right after I tried to seduce you?”

  I felt my face becoming red with shame.

  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Laurene put her arm through mine.

  “You would have been within your rights to chuck me out the goddamn window. And you apologized right away, and then made sure I was protected, even after I almost got you killed. That’s when I knew I had to get out of the business.” She gave me a crafty smile. “When I put away enough money, of course. No use rushing into things.”

  “You were always a practical sort,” I said.

  Alice walked over to join us.

  “What are you two laughing about?”

  “Old times,” I said.

  “We loved your gift,” Laurene said. “A Baccarat vase. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I usually try to avoid wedding gifts that can later be used as a murder weapon,” I said, “but in this instance I’m not worried.”

  “The Rahms sent a gift, too,” Laurene said. “A beautiful antique silver and ceramic samovar. With a nice note wishing us the best. Like your gift, it went to Barry’s apartment. I guess you gave them the address.”

  “I didn’t. But the Rahms have their ways of finding out things.”

  “I don’t think even Ashleigh Harper could write a book about all this,” Alice said. “It’s too weird.”

  “That reminds me,” Laurene said, “Barry says you are all set for the luncheon on Sunday. Your names will be at the door and if anyone gives you a hard time, just drop the name of the guy who works for him.”

  “Godfrey Benedetto.”

  “That’s the guy. He has some serious juice with those publishing dudes.”

  ***

  I behaved myself at the rehearsal party, which I glumly took as a sign of either age or common sense, maybe both. And I spent the next morning at the beach with Alice before going over to one of the three houses Barry rented and picking up my tux.

  At 1 PM sharp I walked Laurene Robillard down the aisle between rows of lawn chairs on hard-packed sand. Barry Lewinsohn stood proudly next to his Rabbi buddy, and they were flanked by the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Some of the latter looked a little worse for wear. Rehearsal parties that include call girls can do that.

  All the groomsmen were decked in off-white tuxedos, as were Barry and I. It’s not my favorite color. But it also was not my wedding. The bridesmaids wore classy strapless pink dresses that looked more like ball gowns than anything else. That was a relief. I’ve seen bridesmaid dresses that must have been designed by the Amish.

  “You look gorgeous,” I said to Laurene as we neared the lattice arch under which the ceremony would be performed.

  She did. Her Vera Wang beaded sheath clung to her and she was radiant.

  “I feel like a hypocrite wearing white,” she whispered.

  “Why? It’s not Labor Day yet.”

  She squeezed my arm in appreciation of my gallant remark. What I wanted to say was that she was now as pure a soul as I knew.

  When we reached Barry I noticed Rabbi Klein, whose eyes were slightly bloodshot, glancing surreptitiously at Wabiba the bridesmaid, who looked like a Nubian princess. She winked at him and he blushed slightly. I wondered if he’d gotten a freebie.

  I kissed Laurene and handed her over to Barry, then went and sat with Alice, who patted my hand and said, “Nice job.”

  It was a lovely day. No bugs, warm with a slight breeze and blue sky. I was pretty sure that if it were my wedding, a Category 3 storm would be raging. The ceremony was brief and the Rabbi did not fall over. The happy couple stepped on the traditional glass and then we went inside for the reception.

  I had a good time and even danced.

  CHAPTER 5 - UNCLE ALTON

  The luncheon reception for Ashleigh Harper was scheduled for 1 PM in one of the smaller dining rooms at the Shoals Club. Alice and I joined a line waiting to enter the room. There was a table set up just outside the door, where a young woman was checking people in. She had a name tag identifying her as an employee of the publisher, Albatross House. A burly man in an ill-fitting suit stood behind the table, looking stern.

  A young girl was walking down the line speaking to everyone in turn. She finally reached us.

  “Sir, I don’t suppose you have an extra ticket, do you?”

  She was a cute, polite kid, brown hair pulled back tight in a bun. Her most startling feature were her big blue eyes, set wide apart under a high forehead. An upturned nose and smallish chin completed a look that reminded me of someone. She was dressed very conservatively in a skirt and light gray sweater.

  “We don’t have any tickets at all,” I said. “Someone hopefully left our name at the door. You’re not invited?”

  “No. I go to the Carolina College of Christian Studies in Fayetteville. I heard about this reception and drove down hoping to get in. I’m writing a paper on To Bury a Turtledove and its relevance to today’s Christians.”

  With that, she moved down the line.

  “Nice kid,” Alice said. “Kind of reminds me of Ellen Page. I hope she can get in.”

  “That’s who I was thinking of,” I said. “The girl from Juno.”

  “Great movie,” Alice said.

  “She’ll need a miracle to get into this thing. They had less security for the Pope.”

  “Don’t be irreverent.”

  We reached the table and I gave our names. The women checked a list.

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Rhode. Mr. Benedetto called about you. He also told me to give you these. He didn’t want you to have to buy them.” She reached into a box and handed us two copies of The Lighthouse Chronicles. “I hope you enjoy the reception.”

  I thanked the woman and Alice and I walked into the room. I nodded at the man standing by the door, who merely glared at me. Probably security. The room looked like it sat perhaps a hundred people, arranged in tables of 10 in front of a small dais. There were a few empty seats at the tables near the door, which suited me fine. I dislike sitting at the front of anything, especially receptions. Most
of them bore me, and I like the option of a quick exit. Alice knows of my predilection and gladly puts up with it. Unlike most beautiful women, who want to be noticed and thus sit in front of any gathering, she is content to listen and learn. It’s the teacher in her.

  We grabbed the last two seats at one of the tables. I was eying the fruit cup, which looked fresh, could smell the basket of bread, always a good sign. Perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad. Alice was chatting with a couple on our left, when I heard a man’s voice at the door.

  “Get lost, sister,” he said loudly.

  I turned and saw the security guy holding the arm of the young girl who had approached us for tickets. He was shoving her away, none too gently. The Albatross woman at the check-in table looked distressed. There was no one else in line and I assumed that the girl had waited until the very end to see if she could get into the room. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

  “Please, sir, you are hurting my arm,” the girl said. “I only asked if I could speak to someone about buying an extra ticket.”

  The ruckus had attracted Alice’s attention.

  “Alton!”

  I knew that tone. Rhode to the rescue! I got up and walked over.

  “What’s the problem here?”

  The man looked at me.

  “No problem, chum. This broad is trying to crash the reception.”

  The “chum” was enough to set my teeth on edge, but I decided that making a scene was not going to help the girl.

  So I calmly said, “You might want to take your hand off my niece.”

  That threw him for a loop.

  “Your niece?”

  “Your hand?”

  He let her go. She stared at me, wide-eyed. The Albatross employee, seeing a possible out from a nasty situation, said, “I didn’t know your niece was coming, Mr. Rhode. She’s not on the list.”

  I gave her my best smile.

  “A miscommunication. When I told Godfrey I needed tickets, I assumed he knew my niece was staying with us.”

  Just then, another woman walked over to our little group.

  “What’s the problem, Leonard.”

  The security man sputtered, “This bro …, I mean this lady doesn’t have a ticket. I didn’t know she was related to this guy.”

  He pointed at me. The woman turned to me.

  “And you are?”

  “Alton Rhode.”

  “He is a friend of Mr. Benedetto,” the check-in lady said helpfully. “He called to make sure they could get into the luncheon. But he forgot to tell us about Mr. Rhode’s niece.”

  “He also forgot to tell you to reserve a book for her,” I said archly.

  “We’ll certainly get her a copy, Mr. Rhode,” the new woman said. “And, of course, your niece is most welcome.”

  She gave the security man a withering look and then led us into the room.

  “I’m Alexandra Nidus.” She extended her hand. “I am Ashleigh Harper’s attorney and adviser. I am sorry about what just happened. But Ashleigh is very fragile, both emotionally and physically. We try to keep these sorts of events to a minimum, and manageable. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

  “Of course. But perhaps you should have a word with the security service you employ. The man at the door is a little rough around the edges.”

  She smiled. It was a good smile. In fact, Alexandra Nidus was a good-looking woman. Tall and rangy, with lush red hair that fell to her shoulders and a face that, while not traditionally pretty, was nevertheless arresting. She also reminded me of someone, but again I couldn’t come up with a name. She was wearing a plum-colored three-button pants suit that accentuated her long legs. Her hazel eyes were startling.

  “Oh, Leonard is not really a security man. I’m afraid he’s like a fish out of water at these things. Not surprising, really, since he is mainly a charter boat captain who also helps me out from time to time at Miss Harper’s house. I have an office there and spend a lot of time seeing to her needs. But I’ll talk to him.” She put her hand on my arm. “I would appreciate it if our little contretemps did not get back to Mr. Benedetto.”

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Nidus. He won’t hear a word from me.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have that extra book brought over to your niece. And please call me Sandy. Everyone else does.”

  I offered my seat to my “niece” but she said she would be fine and found a spot at another table.

  “That was nicely done,” Alice said when I sat back down, “Uncle Alton.”

  “A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”

  Alice looked at me.

  “Don Corleone, in The Godfather,” I said. “Can you pass the rolls?”

  CHAPTER 6 - ANNA

  The luncheon reception was more than half over when there was a discernible buzz from the crowd and I spotted Alexandra Nidus wheeling an elderly woman into the room through a side door.

  “There she is,” a woman at the next table said excitedly, and there was a smattering of applause.

  The woman in the wheelchair waved an arm. The gesture reminded me of videos of Queen Elizabeth acknowledging the crowd from her Rolls-Royce as she entered the grounds of Buckingham Palace in London. Nidus moved the woman to a spot next to a small podium on the dais. Then she took the microphone at the podium and said, “Miss Harper is not feeling well, but would like to say a few words. Then, I’m afraid we’ll have to get her home so that she can rest.”

  She handed the microphone to the older woman.

  “Ah would like to thank y’all all for comin’,” she said, in a Southern drawl. She looked at Nidus, who looked stunned. “And ah’m sorry ah can’t stay longer. Ah hope y’all have enjoyed your lunch.”

  With that, she handed the mike back to Alexandra Nidus, who promptly wheeled her out of the room.

  A man at my table said, “What the hell? That’s all we get for a hundred bucks?”

  I looked at Alice.

  “Well, at least we did not have to pay for the tickets,” she said. “I heard she was very private, but this is disappointing.”

  There were sounds of grumbling from other tables.

  “Follow me,” I said, “and bring the books.”

  We got up and headed toward the door where the two women had exited. I spotted my “niece” on the way. She, too, looked disappointed. I told her to come with us.

  I ran ahead and caught up to them in the parking lot. The wheelchair was folded and stowed in the back of a large golf cart, which was just pulling away, with the man named Leonard driving. Alexandra seemed to be arguing with Harper. I thought I heard her say “fucking accent”.

  “Lenny!” I shouted. “Wait up!”

  The cart stopped. I walked over and he looked at me, confused.

  “What do you want?”

  “You must have been a getaway driver in a previous life, Len. That was one of the fastest exits I’ve ever seen.”

  “We’re in a hurry, chum. Miss Harper is tired.”

  I ignored him and smiled at Sandy Nidus.

  “I never got a chance to thank you for all you did for us,” I said, “especially allowing my niece to attend. Both she and Alice are big fans of Miss Harper.”

  “I was happy to help,” she said, “but we must get Miss Harper home.”

  Alice and the girl came up behind me.

  “Godfrey told us there would be no problem with them having a chat with her, and maybe getting their books signed.”

  Alice kicked me in the back of my ankle. She hates it when I make stuff up. I’ve told her there is a whole chapter on how to lie in the private eye manual.

  “Perhaps we could follow you and speak to her at her house,” I said, “where she might be more comfortable.”

  “She don’t sign books, chum,” Leonard said.

  I ignored him again and upped the wattage of my smile to Nidus. Not too high, though. I didn’t want her to start disrobing in public.

  “Gee, that’s not what good
old Godfrey told us.”

  I wondered if I was going to get Barry Lewinsohn in trouble. But he was a Wall Street guy. He was no stranger to lies. Besides, Laurene would back me on anything.

  The Benedetto name was still golden, because Sandy said, “Of course, Miss Harper will sign your books. And here is just fine. Isn’t that right, Ashleigh?”

  I looked at Harper, who on closer inspection looked a lot better than she had at a distance. Her skin tone, even under what I thought was too much makeup, was good. She had sharp, even cunning, hazel eyes.

  “Ah’d be delighted, honey,” she said. “Ah love meetin’ my fans.”

  Alexandra Nidus visibly swallowed.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Leonard said.

  “That’s enough, Mr. Vole,” Nidus said sharply.

  Alice and my “niece” handed Harper their copies. She asked their names, and that’s how I found out the girl’s was Anna. Harper signed Alice’s book first and I saw her scratch something out. Then she signed Anna’s. She looked at me and held out her hand. It took me a moment to realize that she expected me to want her to sign my copy. I handed it to her and told her my first name. When she handed the book back I noticed that she had misspelled “Alton” as “Altin”. I did not care enough to correct her and just thanked her.

  “I know you must be tired, Miss Harper,” Anna said, “but I would love to interview you for the paper I am doing at college. Can I come back and see you?”

  Before the older woman could reply, Nidus said, “Miss Harper no longer gives interviews, dear. But here is my card. You can email me with any questions you have and I’m sure we can work something out. Now, we must get going. I’m sure you understand.”

  I knew I had pressed our luck about as far as I could, so we said our goodbyes, and they drove away. I took Alice’s copy and looked at what Harper had written. It was a boilerplate “To Alice, From Ashleigh Harper” signing, marred only by the scratching out of a couple of letters before “Ashleigh”. The scratched-out letters were hard to read, but they looked like “Bes”.