Tips for Living(42)

Gubbins pushed away his slice of key lime pie and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“It wasn’t relevant.”

“Of course it was relevant. And what about legal? Or ethical?”

“I did not solicit you, Ms. Glasser. Ben Wickstein solicited me on your behalf.”

“I know, but—”

“I was the Walkers’ attorney for a single real estate transaction. They’re dead now. As such, they’re no longer my clients. But since they once were, confidentiality seemed appropriate.”

“Okay, but—”

“I really do take offense at your implication.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If you prefer not to accept my representation, that’s fine.”

“I didn’t say that—”

“So, for the record, you still wish to be my client?”

“Well . . . yes.”

“And you agree to listen to my advice?”

I nodded. At that moment, I could imagine Gubbins in a courtroom pretty easily.

“I saw that you spoke to the press,” he said, gesturing at the TV screen. “I hope you’ve gotten that out of your system. It’s dangerous territory. I’m not sure you’ve created the desired effect.”

I bit my lip. “You mean I made it worse.”

“Indeed.”

“But I felt I had to say something. I’m nervous about the way people are viewing me in all this.”

“Once again, I advise you against it. The media is tricky. It’s easy to give the wrong impression.”

He’d been right about that. What was the matter with me? If I was going to trust anyone, it should be him. I had to bring him up to speed on Volani. As he signaled for his check, I bent my head toward him and whispered, “You knew the previous owner of Pequod Point, right? The man who tried to buy his house back? Jeffrey Volani?”

“I’ve spoken with him, yes.”

“The police need to focus on Volani.”

Gubbins gave me a questioning look.

“He was angry with Hugh and Helene. He blamed them for his wife becoming depressed because she couldn’t have her house back. Well, the wife committed suicide a couple of months ago. It destroyed him. And I learned he wasn’t in Miami the night of the murders. He was ‘out of town.’ He could’ve come here to take his revenge . . . maybe.”

Even as I proposed Volani as the killer, I had reservations. The scenario suddenly seemed too far-fetched. Why would Volani slash the painting? Pose the two in bed? If he were trying to frame me, he’d need to have known my history with Hugh and Helene, and that I lived in Pequod. It was doubtful he even knew I existed. Or had he done research on Hugh and discovered our connection? Or had I just latched on to Volani because I was desperate to find a suspect? My mind was on fire with arguments and counterarguments.

Gubbins sighed. “Who told you all that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Well, it’s impossible. He couldn’t have killed them.”

“Why not?”

“Because he faxed me last night from Dubai. He’s developing a hotel there. He saw the news about the murders and wanted to know if I had the name of Hugh Walker’s estate attorney, so he could try to buy Pequod Point again. True, Mr. Volani is obsessed with that house, but he was in Dubai on Saturday night. He can’t be in two places at once.”

I slumped down in the booth, deflated. An older waitress delivered the check and began to clear the table. Gubbins took out his wallet, removed a hundred-dollar bill and set it down to pay.

“Thanks, dear,” he said. “I hope it’s not too much trouble to break that hundred. I don’t have anything smaller.”

“No problem, Mr. G.”

As she reached for the money, she caught sight of my face and did a double take. She deliberately avoided my eyes and slipped away to bring Gubbins his change.

“Did you see that?” I asked.

“What?”

I groaned. “The way she looked at me. I did make it worse. It’s like everything is conspiring to make me look guilty. Even my own efforts.”

“Try to keep calm, Ms. Glasser.”

“But I’m worried. Do you know the way Hugh and Helene were murdered? Do you understand what’s happening here?”

“I do.” Gubbins nodded, his expression grave. “The killer set the scene to frame you.”

I leaned back and felt some of my tension drain. Gubbins believed what Ben believed.

“So that’s your take, too?”

“We’re dealing with mental illness, Ms. Glasser. A very sick, but very clever person did this. Someone diabolical.”

I shuddered. “Yes.”

“But, since the police haven’t come to your house looking for evidence, I believe they subscribe to the theory that whoever murdered the Walkers is trying to implicate you. The lack of a warranted search of your premises is a very good sign that the police are not buying you as the killer. You’re a person of interest because of your relationship to the victims. I truly doubt you’re the focus of the investigation.”

I straightened up. “That’s excellent,” I said, slapping the table. I had to refrain from breaking into a happy dance.