Part 16 (1/2)

I waited until our server placed steaming cups of coffee in front of us before answering. ”Mom, you know my job is in Cypress Grove. I was lucky to get any job at all in radio; it's a tough field. How many talk radio shows does one city really need?”

”But you're exceptional. You're not just a talk show host. You're a licensed psychologist and you do a terrific job.”

”And I think you might be a tiny bit biased.” I grinned and blew on my coffee to cool it. ”I'm not exactly a household name, you know. That's what it would take to get hired in a major media market like Miami. Big-time visibility. Name recognition. I'm under the radar screen, believe me. There are a zillion people who'd like a job as a radio host. I wish you could see how many audition tapes the station received, just from one tiny ad.”

It's true. The station had placed a small ad in Media Bistro and had been deluged with applicants. I didn't even have an audition tape, so I cobbled together a few local radio interviews I'd done. The topics had all been psychological, women's health, stress management, relations.h.i.+ps.

I'd been interviewed once on NPR, which must have caught someone's attention, because WYME listened to my tape and immediately invited me down to discuss the job. I did a sample audition (with Cyrus Stills playing the part of a call in guest), and they decided I'd be a good match. Big Jim Wilc.o.x came up with On the Couch with Maggie Walsh as the name of the show. I resisted the idea at first but finally realized it was catchy and gave in.

”Well, you should be a household name.” She sniffed. ”I think you moved too fast when you accepted that job at WYME. You should have held out a little longer and aimed for the top when you moved down here,” she said. ”You're loaded with talent. I think it's a confidence issue, really.”

”Now you sound like the shrink.” I grinned and held back a sigh. This was old territory, ground we'd covered many times before. I'd grabbed the WYME position because I didn't think I could take one more New York winter, and who knew when another opportunity would come along? Mom, however, was convinced that I had ”settled.”

”Let's get back to Ray Hicks,” I said, pulling out a tiny notebook. ”I know you're suspicious of him and I'd like to know why.” I was really asking, What did you pick up on that I didn't?

”Oh, the hand to the nose. That was the tell,” she said softly. ”An easy one, actually.”

”It was?” I stopped with my ballpoint hovering over my notes.

”Didn't you notice the way he swiped his nose with one hand when he pretended he'd never been to Cypress Grove?”

”No, I hadn't, actually.” I s.h.i.+vered a little in the warm sunlight. Ever since we'd been to Ray Hicks's trailer, I'd had the irrational fear that bugs--maybe fleas--were crawling on me. ”And then he went on and on talking. That's what people do when they're lying, you know--they add a wealth of unimportant details. They make the story even bigger than it has to be, and of course that's a sure giveaway.”

”You could tell all that from his scratching his nose? What if he has allergies? Or a cold?”

”I don't think so.” Mom shook her head. ”It was cla.s.sic.”

”He looked me right in the eye when he said he'd never been to Cypress Grove.”

”Easy. Con artists are good at making eye contact when they tell a bold-faced lie.”

She was right. As always.

”What else?” I knew she was holding back and there were probably more things she'd picked up on. Sometimes I forgot that I was supposed to be the expert on human behavior and Mom was just a very observant actress. She picked up on dozens of things that I missed.

”Well, did you notice the way he covered his face when he talked about Sanjay? He pretended to be rubbing his eye with the back of his hand, but it was like he was covering his eyes, almost as if he was s.h.i.+elding them. He was concealing something. It reminded me of someone being blindfolded.” She paused, toying with her spoon. ”Or someone who deliberately was pulling down shutters. He didn't want us to see what his eyes might reveal. All on the unconscious level, of course.”

”I didn't spot that.”

My cell phone rang and I glanced at the readout. My reporter pal, Nick Harrison.

”What's up?” I said, after punching the TALK b.u.t.ton.

”Just checking in.” I could hear a low buzz of conversation behind him and I knew he was calling from the Gazette. I guessed they had just put the paper to bed and Nick was tying up some loose ends before heading out for dinner.

”Any good news?” After our meeting with Ray Hicks, I was ready to hear some.

”I did a little more background checking, and I came up with an R. Hicks who signed the register at the Seabreeze. The car license plate number he gave doesn't check out. There's something suspicious about him.”

R. Hicks. Ray Hicks.

”Ray Hicks was at the Seabreeze?” My hand jolted involuntarily, and I splashed coffee on the white linen cloth. I glanced across the table, and Mom flashed me an ”I told you so” look. ”What night?”

”R. Hicks was there the night Sanjay died. Or went to his celestial resting place,” Nick added with a low laugh. ”It's either Ray or a heck of a big coincidence.” I could picture Nick holding up his hand, palm out. ”And don't remind me that Freud said there are no coincidences. What's your take on it?”

”I just talked to Ray Hicks.” My mind was racing. Had Ray Hicks been lying to me the whole time? This changed everything, and I wished I could rewind the tape in my head and play the whole trailer-park scene again.

”You're kidding. What did he say?”

”He admitted that he got screwed over in a business deal with Sanjay. He told me a complicated story about a real estate buy and eminent domain. It was pretty much the way you described it to me.”

Nick grunted. ”He got screwed over all right. I'd say to the tune of a million bucks.”

”Close enough. First I told him Sanjay was dead; then I had to listen to his rant.”

”What was his reaction to the news?”

”He was certainly glad to hear he was dead.” I glanced at Mom across the table; she was watching me with a laser-beam intensity. She nodded emphatically.

”I bet he was.” Nick gave a mirthless laugh.

”But he insisted he had nothing to do with it, and that he'd never attended the conference. In fact, he even said he'd never been in Cypress Grove.”

”Where did you talk to him?”

”At his home in some awful mobile home park. He actually invited us inside.” I shuddered, remembering the dismal trailer with its smell of decaying cheese and onions.

”Was there a car parked out front?”

I nodded. ”A beat-up Ford pickup truck. Black.”

”Did you happen to get the license number?”

My heart sank like a stone. ”I didn't think of it.” So much for my investigative skills.

”That's okay. I can get someone to run a background check.” I could hear Nick tapping away at his computer.

”Miriam Dobosh almost did.” I suddenly remembered Mom's conversation with her. ”She said she wanted to, but she didn't have the cash available. Sanjay acted like it was the deal of a lifetime.”

”Interesting. So he wouldn't hesitate to cheat one of his own employees.”

”And Miriam wasn't just an employee. She practically ran the whole show.” But maybe he wasn't planning on cheating her, I thought. Maybe he was going to offer her a cut of his ill-gotten gains. It might be good to chat with her again to see whether she was willing to talk about Sanjay. ”The part about Ray being at the Seabreeze is sort of a stretch, you know.” Nick had stopped typing, and his voice broke into my musings. ”I can't imagine him being the sort of guy who's into New Age conferences.”

I tried to picture Ray Hicks walking into the Seabreeze in his filthy jeans. Wouldn't anyone have noticed? He hardly looked like one of Sanjay's well-heeled, if misguided, followers. He would have stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.

Mom scribbled a note on a paper napkin and pa.s.sed it to me. ”Did this R. Hicks use a credit card to pay for the room?” I relayed the question to Nick and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Good question. Ray Hicks had told us he'd cut up his credit cards.