“And if you had to guess?”
“Ellis Esterland was a very abrasive man. He was cordially disliked by a great many people. I think that if he felt unwell, he would have stopped where they found him. And if anyone had tried to talk to him, he would probably have said something ugly to them. I would guess there was only one person involved.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The money was taken, but not the expensive car. It was a new car. If two people had arrived in one vehicle, one of them could have taken the car. If there was only one person, their identity could have been traced through the vehicle they would have left behind.”
“Meyer, there is a difference between logic and implausibility.”
“I’ve never noticed that logic needs be plausible.” He retreated into silence. I knew that he was back there in one of his thinking rooms, working things out. Staring into the fire. Patting the cat.
I noticed a marsh hawk on a dead branch and pointed it out. “Circus cyaneus hudsonius,” Meyer said. I turned and stared at him. He coughed and said, “Sorry about that. It’s a twitch. Like hiccups. Compulsive classification. I try not to do it. Can’t help observations. Such as what you do when you get annoyed. You go ten miles an hour faster.”
I dropped the speed back where it belonged. We got off the Alley and took 858 into downtown Naples and out to the beach, turned right, and drove along hotel row until we came to the Eden Beach. I drove the long curve of sleek asphalt past the portico and on over into their parking area. A man tending the plantings stopped and stared slack-jawed at the Rolls pickup. It has that effect. The conversion was done clumsily during the Great Depression. Four fat women in shorts were on the big putting-green, grimly improving their game. Through big-leafed tropic growth I could see the blue slosh of the swimming pool, and I heard somebody body-smack into it off the rumbling board. I saw a slice of Gulf horizon, complete with distant schooner. We went up three broad white steps and through a revolving door into the cool shadows of the lobby. A very pretty lady behind the reception desk smiled at us, frowned at her watch, picked up a phone, punched out two numbers, then spoke in a low voice.
“She’ll be right out,” the nice lady said. “What kind of work does she do here?”
“Oh, she’s our manager! She’s the boss.”
Anne Renzetti appeared a few minutes later, looking unlike a boss. I had forgotten what a vivid little woman she was. Black black hair, dark eyes, black brows, a slash of red mouth. She wore a beige suit, white crisp shirt, green silk scarf knotted at her throat, very high heels. She walked trimly, swiftly, toward us, giving Meyer a smile of genuine pleasure at seeing him again, holding her cheek up for a kiss, favoring me with a quick handshake and a dubious look.
“McGee?” I said. “Travis McGee?”
“I think I remember you… Meyer, how are you? You look absolutely wonderful. Gentlemen, perhaps you will join me for a drink? I was getting ready to leave. Marie? I’ll be at my place if anything comes up.”
We followed her out the west doors, through the pool area past a thatched outdoor beach bar, and down to the farthest cabana. It was on pilings six feet high. We went up the stairs to a shallow porch with a broad overhang. A nice breeze was coming off the Gulf. The tubular chairs were comfortable. We approved her suggestion of vodka and grapefruit juice, and she declined any help. When she came back with the drinks on a small tray, she had changed to white shorts and a pink gauze top.
Meyer said, “Congratulations on your exalted position, Anne.”
She made a face. “It was sort of an accident, actually. First, I was secretary to Mr. Luddwick and then the company moved him to Hawaii, to a bigger hotel. His replacement was driving from Baltimore, and he got into a really bad accident. He was alone and fell asleep and went off the road. They thought he might be laid up for six weeks to two months, and they asked me if I could carry on alone herewith a small raise in pay, of course. I said sure. They had to pin the man’s broken hip, and he got an infection, and finally, when he was ready to report, somebody had the good sense to look at the results for the three months I had been running it, and they decided they shouldn’t change a thing. I owe getting the top job to Ellis Esterland.”
“You do?” Meyer said, astonished.
“I cover every inch of this place at least once a month. I know what every employee is doing and what they are supposed to be doing. I know where every penny of expense goes. I listen personally to every gripe. Ellis taught me that there are people who try to look as if they are doing a good and thorough job, and then there are the people who actually damn well do it, for its own sake. I’m proud of myself, damn it. And I love being the boss. I really love it! Everything you do in life is worth infinite care and infinite effort, Ellis said. He said that in a half-ass world the real achiever is king. He used to make me do things over if I made the tiniest mistake. He used to make me cry. But, wow, I really owe him.”
“Nice-looking place,” I said.
“Why have you looked me up?” she asked.
Meyer left it up to me. “We were talking with Ronald Esterland yesterday night in Lauderdale, Miss Renzetti.”
“With Ron! You were? How is he? What is he doing?”
“Fine, apparently. He had a big show of his work in London and he sold most of it. He is beginning to get a lot of attention.”
“I’m so glad! You know, I thought Ellis had really gutted him. I really thought Ron would never amount to anything. His father thought Ron’s ambition to be a painter was absurd. He thought it was a cop-out, an excuse for not working. I tried in little ways to get Ellis to get in touch with Ron. But he wouldn’t. I felt… maternal about Ron, which is strange because he’s a little older than I am. I think Josie felt that way, or feels that way, about him too, and though she is older than he is, she certainly isn’t old enough to be his mother. It really crushed Josie, losing Romola the way she did… What does Ron have to do with your looking me up?”
“His attitude toward his father has mellowed, Miss Renzetti.”
“Please call me Anne.”
“Thank you, Anne. Ron realized that he lost some of the fun of success because his father wasn’t alive to see it happen.”
“Ellis would have been totally astonished. He used to say to people, ‘I’ve got a middle-aged son living abroad making funny daubs on canvas, trying to live in the wrong century’.”
“He isn’t satisfied with the story of his father’s death.”
“Who is? They never found out a thing. Not a single thing. And it happened in such a public place. It doesn’t seem possible they couldn’t find out something.”
“So I’m poking around.”
“Are you some sort of police officer?”
Meyer answered, “No, he’s just a private citizen. But he’s had a lot of luck finding things for people, answering questions people have had. You can trust him, Anne.”
“With what? I don’t know anything I haven’t told the police long ago. It wasn’t too pleasant, you know. I was a single woman living aboard a fancy boat with a rich old dying man. They were less than polite. They wanted to know what boyfriends I had on the side. They wanted to know, if Ellis was so sick, why I hadn’t driven him up there. Was he getting a divorce from Josephine? Did I plan to marry him if he got a divorce? Had we quarreled before he drove up there? Finally I had enough and I told them I wasn’t answering any more questions. They tried to bully me, but I had been bullied by one of the world’s greatest, so it didn’t work. Look, tell Ron I’m so glad he’s making it. And tell him I feel quite certain Ellis would have come around and been proud of him too. Will you do that?”
“Of course we will,” Meyer said. “Did Ellis go off on trips like that often, without telling you why?”