“If you’re feeling ill, Miss Green, you may be excused.” Detective Cassidy glared at me and leaned forward as if to rise. Something about his demeanor, his arrogance in thinking I’d crumple at his news, made me swallow my gorge and remain seated. He sank back into his chair and nodded to his partner.
Burgundy reached into his attaché case and withdrew photos that he fanned across the coffee table. I closed my eyes, but not in time to avoid seeing Francine and the snake.
I heard Zack stride forward, brush the photos to the floor. After I forced my eyes open, he stomped the pictures, kicking them toward Cassidy. Then he picked up two of the photos, tore them in half, and flung them at Burgundy’s feet. Blood had rushed to his face, and I thought he might be having a heart attack, or a stroke. He stood with his arms at his sides, both fists doubled, his eyes flashing fire.
“Why wasn’t I told these details sooner?” Zack demanded. “Why am I the last to know? I’ll…I’ll…Winton found her body. My so-called friend, Winton Gravely. He knew of this horror last night while you were questioning us. Gravely knew even before that—when he found Mother’s body. Why didn’t he tell me!”
“Please calm yourself, Mr. Shipton,” Cassidy said. “We can explain our actions and Gravely’s. Once you hear our reasoning, I think you’ll agree we did the right thing. Please remember, our job is to find the murderer, not to comfort the survivors.”
“I’ll have your head for my breakfast!” Zack shouted. “I’ll…I’ll…”
“Please hear us out, Mr. Shipton.” Detective Burgundy rose and stood beside Zack. “Handling the information in the way we did may help us as we investigate this case. Before last night’s questioning, we ordered Gravely to say nothing about the snake. We wanted to note everyone’s reactions to our questions as well as to the answers given by those present. Many times we count on initial reactions to reveal important clues.”
“How could such secrecy have helped? I’m calling my lawyer.” Zack turned and started to leave.
“You’re welcome to call anyone you care to,” Cassidy said. “But do hear us out first. Please listen to our comments. Then, if you have questions we’ll do our best to answer them.”
Zack sat again. “All right.” He glared at each detective in turn. “Why was Winton allowed to know information that you denied to me? And why is Bailey being put through this unpleasantness? You know she was en route to Key West when the murder took place.”
“Would you rather have broken this news to Miss Green yourself?” Cassidy demanded.
Zack shook his head and stared at the floor. “Of course not. Nobody likes breaking this kind of news to anyone. But that doesn’t excuse you from allowing Winton Gravely—”
“We swore Gravely to secrecy until we announced the details of your mother’s death to the media. He remains under oath to keep silent. Now we’re demanding the same thing of you and Miss Green. Secrecy. Police frequently withhold facts from the public. Often it’s that one withheld detail that causes the perpetrator to stumble, to reveal his guilt. We feel it possible that someone in this room last night knows exactly what happened to your mother.”
“Who?” Zack demanded. “Tell me right now. Which person, which of my friends and neighbors do you suspect? Who?”
“We’re revealing no more details yet and we want both you and Miss Green to keep the information we’ve revealed to you this morning a secret.”
“There’ll be a thorough investigation?”
“Of course. We’ve been working to unravel this mystery since yesterday when we received Winton Gravely’s nine-one-one call around six-thirty—about half an hour before you arrived home.”
“And you think someone who was in this room last night is guilty? I can’t believe that one of our neighbors—”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Mr. Shipton. We said that’s a possibility. A total stranger may have murdered your mother. Police deal with such homicides frequently, but according to statistics, murders are most often committed either by some member of the victim’s family or by a close associate.”
“What about the yardman?” Zack demanded. “We know nothing about him except that he showed up one day asking for work.”
I wanted to scream at Zack, to tell him to hush up about the yardman. But I corked my thoughts and forced myself to listen.
“Tell us about the yardman. He was a stranger to your mother?”
“That’s right. She’d known him only a few weeks—a month at the most. Mitch, Mitch…what’s his last name?”
Burgundy pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket and supplied the name. “Mitch Mitchell. Might be a phony name. Or maybe the Mitch part may be a nickname.”
“According to Mother, Mitchell worked hard and had no trouble following her instructions concerning her lawn, her trees and plants. The neighbors joked about Mother’s nitpicking when it came to attention to her yard. When she hired someone she approved of, they’d vie to hire that person, too. I’ve watched a succession of yardmen come and go.”
“You never did the hiring and firing?”
“No.” Zack banged his fist against his chair arm. “Mother did her own hiring and firing. Mitchell admitted being inside this very room. He admitted to finding a blacksnake here. He admitted liking snakes to the point that he’d go out of his way to protect one. I want to talk to Mitch Mitchell up close and personal.”
Warning signals flashed in my head. I had to warn Mitch. “Of course the yardman will get close scrutiny. Mitch Mitchell. His name’s on our list of suspects.”
“Have you dusted the house for fingerprints?” Zack asked. “Yes. We did that before you arrived home from work yesterday, but we’re releasing no information on the results just yet.”
Detective Burgundy tucked what remained of the torn photos back into his attaché case. “We thank both of you for your cooperation.”
“We expect you to remain silent about the details of this investigation,” Cassidy reminded us—again. “We’ll inform you before we release the whole story to the media.”
“Thanks,” Zack said. “I’ll appreciate that. I’ll expect that.”
We watched the detectives get into their car and leave before we returned to our breakfast. Although I didn’t feel like eating, Zack began making fresh toast.
“Now what?” I don’t know what I expected Zack to say. I’d agreed to stay and greet callers. I regretted that promise. I needed to get in touch with Mitch, to put him on guard against whatever the police might have in store for him.
“I’d like to lock the doors and disappear,” Zack admitted. “I’m sorry you’ve been sucked into this horror.”
“I appreciate your feelings, Zack. But I’m glad you don’t have to face this scene alone.”
“Did you notice anything strange about the conclusions the detectives were reaching?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t believe they said anything about reaching conclusions. I feel as if the investigation stands wide open and they’re waiting to find the perpetrator or to have him reveal himself.”
“That’s the feeling they left me with, too. They may give the impression they suspect Mitchell, but I didn’t hear them letting me off the hook. No way. Anyone else’s motive for murdering Mother might hinge on protecting the neighborhood from an influx of homeless people. I’m the only one with a dual motive.”
“Protecting the neighborhood and claiming your inheritance.”
“Right. There’s no way I’ve been dropped from their suspect list. I’m in the number-one spot.”
I hated to admit that Zack was right, and I felt more wary of him than before, although I could think of no reason why he’d want to harm me. I brushed my feelings to a far corner of my mind, and for a moment I forgot about them when I glanced out the window and saw Courtney crossing her lawn and heading directly toward Eden Palms.
ELEVEN
Courtney made it a point to let the neighbors know she jogged five miles every morning rain or s
hine. Of course, in Florida it was mostly shine. This morning she wore a yellow tank top that struggled to cover her bustline and spandex short-shorts slung low enough to reveal her pierced naval. Suddenly, my silk shift had all the charm of a garage-sale special. Courtney was the only jogger I knew who could look glamorous while wearing sweaty hair pulled back with an elastic band. Walking toward Eden Palms, she looked as if she’d reluctantly stepped from a lemon-and-spritzer world into a scene of mourning. I pulled my stomach in and stood straighter.
Zack and I both walked to the front door to meet her. I stepped back while he held the door open wide, allowing her to make a dramatic entry with the gold-and-silver gift bag she dangled from two fingers. How, I wondered, did she manage to smell like Chinese orchids?
“Oh, Zack!” She hugged him with her free arm. “My deepest sympathy to you in the loss of your dear mother. My very deepest sympathy.”
“Thank you, Courtney. I appreciate your empathy and concern. Do come inside and join us.”
At the word “us,” Courtney peered over Zack’s shoulder, seeing me for the first time. She managed to change her initial reaction of dismay to one of pleasant surprise.
“Bailey! How nice to see you here…too. I didn’t know you were such an early bird.”
I forced a smile, fumbling in my mind for a suitable response and finding none. Courtney causes me to think of suitable responses a day after I need them. Before I could speak she continued.
“I’ve brought you sustenance, Zack.” She turned her body so that it all but blocked me from the scene while she thrust her gift bag toward Zack as if offering the crown jewels. Her fingers touched his and lingered while she took exaggerated care to make sure he had a firm grip on the bag’s handles.
“Zack, I realize this’s a time of great stress for you, and I want you to take care of yourself. You’ve probably no appetite at all, but you must eat. I insist on it.”
I tried not to gag. One minute she played the part of a temptress, the next minute, the part of a wide-eyed ingénue waiting for a pat on the head—or the butt.
When Zack opened the mouth of the bag and peered inside, the enticing aroma of onions, peppers, and Cuban salsa wafted to us.
“Ahh,” he sighed and inhaled deeply.
“Yes, an aroma to die for, and I’m here to see that you eat right now before mourners begin arriving and fragmenting your day.”
“How very thoughtful of you, Courtney.”
“I had a late, late supper at Naked Lunch last night. The chef made this special serving at my request. I warmed the juicy meat to perfection in the microwave only minutes ago and it’s ready for you to enjoy. I know you’re a hardy type who likes roast beef for breakfast.”
“How thoughtful of you, Courtney.” Zack led the way to the kitchen. Courtney followed him. I followed her. Since Naked Lunch is a clothing-optional bar and restaurant near Duval Street, I wondered which option Courtney had chosen yesterday evening. When we reached the breakfast alcove, Courtney sniffed and raised an eyebrow when she saw the soggy cornflakes and toast we’d abandoned.
“Away with all this.” With an air of determination, she flushed our uneaten breakfast into the disposal then began setting the table afresh. Clearly, she’d done this before. She had no problem finding dishes and place mats. But why should she? She and Francine had eaten here frequently. I wondered why my mind rejected the idea that she and Zack might have breakfasted here, too. Who Zack shared breakfast with was no concern of mine.
Courtney began by setting out two place mats. “Can I persuade you to join us, Bailey?”
“Of course she will,” Zack answered for me. “It’s going to be a long day for all of us.”
“That’s true. I just thought that since Bailey wasn’t on Key West at the time of Francine’s passing, she might want to opt out of the police investigation, if there is to be one, and fly right back home to Iowa.”
“No,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of leaving—especially not before the funeral services. Francine meant a great deal to me and to my family.”
“Well, of course,” Courtney agreed, “but I haven’t seen your colorful car around and I assumed you might already have gone.”
I couldn’t miss her sarcastic tone on the word “colorful.” To celebrate on the day Greentree Blues hit the Key West stores, Francine had flown our family to the Keys and presented me with the car—an emerald-green Lincoln that she had ordered especially painted and outfitted with a vanity plate bearing the word BAILEY. It broke my heart to have to leave it in Key West, but Mom became ill and we had to fly home quickly. Francine had wanted to ship the car to Iowa, but we decided to leave it here for a short time, thinking Mom would recover soon and we could return for it. But the short time grew into a long time—a time very long and sad. We’d seldom mentioned the car.
“I took the Lincoln to our mechanic for a checkup,” Zack said. “Mother and I both drove it now and then to keep the battery up, to keep the mechanisms operating. You know how it is in the Keys when it comes to motors—use them or lose them. Since the car had been idle more than it had been used, I felt it needed a professional look-see.”
“Thank you, Zack,” I said. “There’ve been so many things going on, so much to think about, I haven’t had time to peek into the carport—yet. I appreciate your taking care of it for me.”
“What were the detectives doing poking around here this morning?” Courtney asked.
Her sudden change of subject startled me. How dare she ask such a personal question! But Zack deflected it with adept courtesy at the same time he brought out a third place mat, a third plate with napkins and silverware.
“Oh, they were just being thorough,” he said. “They thought of questions they hadn’t touched on last night.”
“I thought they covered things in depth yesterday,” Courtney said. “They certainly went out of their way to try to make me look guilty of murder. I couldn’t believe their insinuations.”
“I don’t think they intended to make you or anyone else look guilty,” Zack said. “Detective Cassidy insisted again this morning that last night’s question-and-answer session was informal—only necessary to his peace of mind. He wanted to be sure, as sure as he could at that point, of what had gone down here at the house. Try not to take it personally, Courtney.”
Courtney divided the roast beef and its fragrant sauce and juices into three portions, making sure Zack received the largest. Her gift bag also contained rolls and tiny pats of butter in ceramic containers. She warmed the rolls in the microwave, giving Zack one and splitting the other between the two of us—with reluctance, I thought.
We ate in silence for a few moments before Courtney began a forced conversation. “I’m sorry the chef didn’t have your favorite chutney glaze, Zack.”
“This bland Cuban flavoring hits the spot this morning,” Zack said. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Guess I forgot about eating dinner last night.”
Had he forgotten the sandwiches and hot chocolate we had shared? I wondered. The meal dragged on and on. I had to admit the beef was so tender I barely had to chew it, and the mixture of Cuban flavors left me wanting more. Zack answered a phone call concerning his business on Key Largo, and after he returned to his chair, we soon finished our meal. Courtney made a show of clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.
“Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness,” Zack said when at last Courtney headed toward the front doorway.
“You’re entirely welcome, Zack. If there’s anything else I can help you with be sure to let me know. As a Realtor, I can juggle my schedule to suit the occasion.” Then she turned to me. “And Bailey, when do you plan to head north? You can count on me for a ride to the airport if Zack’s at his office.”
“My plans are tentative, Courtney, and although I have no present plans for returning to Iowa, I appreciate your offer.”
Courtney was less than subtle in her effort to urge me on my way north, and I felt sure Zack noticed
. A painful thought crossed my mind. Had Zack said something to her about anticipating my departure? But when would he have had time to talk with her privately? With Francine gone, I felt my situation at Eden Palms had changed. I wondered if Courtney already saw herself ensconced here as Zack’s wife. I wondered about the closeness of their relationship. With Zack’s wealth, good looks, and business success, many women in Key West might consider him the catch of the day. I tried to ignore his charms. I reminded myself again that I had no place in my life for a man right now and maybe never would have.
“If you’ve vetoed a return to Iowa,” Courtney said, breaking into my thoughts, “then perhaps you’ll be seeking other living arrangements here in Key West.”
“Spoken like a true Realtor, Courtney,” Zack laughed. “Bailey’s welcome to continue living in our cottage for as long as she cares to.”
Courtney smiled at Zack then winked at me as if we shared a secret. “Give me a call if you decide to make a change.”
Deep in thought, I stared after Courtney’s departing figure until Zack cleared his throat.
“Bailey, sometimes Courtney overplays her hand. Please try to take anything she says with a grain of fault—her fault.”
“Maybe she’s right in her insinuations. Maybe I should pack and go.” I met Zack’s gaze, trying to read answers there. My staying might make an awkward situation for him.
“I’m not rushing you off, Bailey. Francine offered you the cottage, and although her plans for you haven’t worked out, I’m sure I can find temporary employment for you in one of my offices for as long as you want it. From my point of view, it’s better to have the cottage occupied than vacant.”
“We don’t have to decide on my plans right now. But if you think my continuing to live here might cause gossip…”
“Forget that, Bailey. Key West’s a live-and-let-live island.”
How well Zack knew that. I smiled, thinking about his almost-wedding and Francine’s words. “Zack returned the wedding gifts, repaid his fiancée’s family the wedding expenses, although those duties were the girl’s obligation. During a post-fiasco dinner, Zack stood and gave a toast.
Eden Palms Murder Page 8
