Thank goodness he’d kept our relationship a secret! The woman appeared first, then the man.
“Princess. Wizard. I want you to meet my good friend, Bailey Green. And Bailey, I want you to meet my friends.”
I muttered my hellos while Mitch spouted bits and pieces of information like a tour guide. Very comfortable here. Got police okay to pitch the tent. Got friends all around us. While he rattled on, I couldn’t take my gaze from Princess. In her sixties? Maybe. That was a wild estimate. She was built like a pyramid on stilts, and she could have been forty or seventy or anywhere in between. She wore a fraying straw hat. Her orange, pot-scrubber hair and her scarlet lipstick clashed with the blobs of pink rouge dabbed on her raddled cheeks.
“Like my new outfit?” She twirled before me like an obese child showing off for Grandma. “Mitch lent me the money and I bought the whole outfit including the hat for only three dollars on Flagler at the Salvation Army store.”
Her twirling released the sick-sweet fragrance of perfume. I fought a desire to step back. Her white peek-a-boo blouse and black satin skirt, along with the red and white polka-dot cummerbund spanning her wide middle formed a one-of-a-kind outfit. Pink ballerina slippers were losing a half-hearted struggle to contain her feet.
“What a colorful outfit, Princess! I’m sure you’ll enjoy wearing it a long time.”
“Mitch is very generous.” Princess grinned at Mitch until he blushed. I wondered what real name might be on her birth certificate, if she had one. But everyone has a birth certificate somewhere, right?
“Where’s your home, Princess?” I looked away from the tent. “I mean where does your family live?”
“Don’t remember. Maybe don’t have no more family.”
“Wizard hails from New Jersey.” Mitch frowned at me, trying to change the subject and put Princess at ease. I gave the balding scarecrow of a man my full attention, determined to ask no more embarrassing questions. Wizard looked a lot like the vendor I’d encountered at the airport. I backed off a step. Could it be the same guy?
“Pleased to meet you, Wizard.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” His voice was a guttural rumble.
Wizard wore no shirt under his bib overalls. He’d rammed bare feet into hiking boots whose toes had been cut out for comfort—or maybe for ventilation. Wizard’s appearance made me think of the plethora of food at Eden Palms. I wondered when he’d last eaten a good meal. Did he patronize the soup kitchens? An odor emanating from him made me guess that beer might be his main form of sustenance. I looked at the tent from which these two had emerged. Did they live together?
“Mitch, where do you live—I mean where do you sleep?”
“We all sleep on pallets under the stars, Bailey. The tent’s only for emergencies such as rain or sudden cold or mean tourists who might tell us to move on.”
The three of them sat on the ground and I joined them, hoping this get-together would soon end and that nobody would see me.
“I want to help these people, Bailey. They’re down on their luck right at the moment. Wizard used to be a telephone line repairman, but he walked when the company discriminated against him—promoted others when he should have been promoted. And Princess has had a lot of troubles, too.” Mitch stopped to grab a breath. “She was an ace housekeeper, but her employer fired her when some of the family jewelry turned up missing. No fault of Princess’s. None at all. The woman’s kid probably swiped the stuff and sold it for drug money. I’d like to help both these people get their lives back on track, help them reunite with their families. There’re many reasons for family estrangements, but with a little effort, a little understanding, these people could be happy living with their loved ones again.”
Mitch rattled on as people sometimes do when they know they’re presenting a weak case. When I looked at Mitch, my mind flashed back to the kid who used to bring in stray cats and dogs. Now he’d graduated to stray people.
“And what do Princess and Wizard think of your plan?” I tried to keep sarcasm from my voice. What did I know! I could be wrong. Maybe these two did want to reunite with family.
“I’m happy right here,” Wizard said. “Nobody around prodding me to find a job or stop dirking or—”
Princess broke in. “Mitch wants to help us, and we appreciate him and we like him a lot, but we don’t really need no help.” She paused, looking down at her clothes. “Well, I did need help in getting this new outfit. But Mitch didn’t try to boss me around. He let me choose every piece of it myself.”
“I’m helping them out when I can,” Mitch said. “I give them a little money for food, a little help with doctor’s bills, some cash for medicine. All they need is someone to lend them a helping hand.”
It appalled me to know these two were scamming my brother with their hard-luck stories. I stood. There was little hope of changing Mitch—or Wizard and Princess. I opened my purse. I felt guilty leaving these people without giving them something, some token of my visit. But what? Unlike Mitch, I refused to dole out money I felt sure they would spend in the nearest bar. Instead, I poked into my purse and pulled out the two scarves I’d purchased under duress at the airport. I extended a smile and a scarf to each of them. If Wizard had been the man who had sold them to me, he didn’t let on.
“I’ve enjoyed meeting you both, and perhaps you’ll enjoy wearing these mementos of Key West.”
Princess’s eyes lit up and she smiled her thanks as she folded the blue scarf into an oblong and tucked it into her polka-dot cummerbund. Again she twirled, expecting my admiration.
Wizard folded his scarf into a triangle and tied the ends of it at the back of his neck, letting it hang like a bib. I’d forgotten about the grease stain and now it embarrassed me to see it front and center, but Wizard didn’t seem to notice.
“Thank you, ma’am. This’ll make a useful sweat rag once the temp begins to heat up.”
I reached for the camera slung around my neck. “May I take your pictures?”
Princess posed, smiling and tilting her head like a movie star. “People are always wanting to take my picture,” she said. “This’s my Brittany Spears pose.”
I snapped the shot and turned toward Wizard. He didn’t smile, but he looked straight into the camera as I took his picture.
“Thank you both very much. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” Then feeling like a Scrooge, I gave in, reached into my purse again, and pulled out a fiver for each of them. Mitch walked me back to the Bridle Path, and I felt Wizard and Princess watching me as I left. I trusted Mitch, but Wizard and Princess could be dangerous. I hoped they didn’t know where I lived.
THIRTEEN
“What did you think of them?” Mitch asked when we were out of earshot of his friends. “They’re interesting people, Bailey. Once I got to know them, I learned all sorts of interesting things about their pasts. I can understand why they prefer to live on the street.”
“They’re taking you for a ride, Mitch. Thousands of people hunting jobs, and Wizard walks out on one! And Princess! Maybe she stole her employer’s jewelry and maybe she didn’t. Are you sure any jewelry existed to be stolen? Maybe she imagined the whole thing.”
“Cut ’em some slack, Sis. You just don’t understand them. You don’t understand how harshly the world can treat some people.”
“Right. I don’t. But I do understand that your new friends could be dangerous. Sure, they’ve given you hard-luck stories, but you’ve no proof they’re true.”
Mitch scowled. “You think that by ignoring their situation it’ll go away? Be real.”
“I think you’d be better off donating your chump change to the organized agencies trying to help people like Wizard and Princess. Let the professionals do their thing.”
“We have differing opinions, as usual.”
“Right. As usual.”
“Thanks for showing up to meet them.” Mitch turned and headed toward the hidden tent. “I won’t walk you to your car.”
“Than
ks.” I didn’t storm off in a huff. Huffs had never worked for me when dealing with my brother. My promise to Mom to look after him made me realize I had to keep a line of communication open even though we were living on different planets.
The morning sessions with the detectives, with Courtney, with Zack, to say nothing of my meeting with Mitch and his friends, all were taking their toll. I felt wiped out. Once I reached my car, I didn’t want to go home, so I inched through the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Duval Street to the dock. Parking lot almost deserted. Too early for the sunset crowd. I strolled to a bench near the water. I could almost taste the salt in the sea air. No cruise ships blocked my vision, and I sat enjoying the breeze and the water until I felt refreshed enough to drive home and face whatever might await me there.
Once I turned into the cul-de-sac, I wished I’d stayed at Mallory. Detective Burgundy stepped from his unmarked car when he saw me turn toward the carport. I took my time parking, wondering what he wanted. Maybe he’d come to see Zack. One could hope.
When I returned from the carport, he walked toward me in his loose-limbed way. Puppet on a string. That’s what he reminded me of, a tall, good-looking puppet. Forget that. A cop was a cop was a cop.
“Good afternoon, Bailey. I called ahead a few times, but when you didn’t answer I decided to drop by and wait. Do you have some free minutes?”
“Yes, of course.” I paused at his car, drawing a deep breath. “How can I help you?”
Burgundy glanced at his watch. “Detective Cassidy and I want you to come to headquarters for a formal interview. Would you be willing to do that now?”
I wanted to ask if I had a choice. But no. I knew I didn’t. His smile and friendly attitude belied his true intention. If I refused to go, they could deliver a summons that would force me either to appear or to risk breaking the law.
“Why does Detective Cassidy want to question me further? I assume it’s about Francine’s death.”
“Right. It is.”
“I told you everything I know yesterday—Monday. I didn’t arrive in Key West until late in the evening.”
“We’re aware of that. But we’d like to make more careful notes on your account of the happenings since you arrived.”
“Will I need a lawyer?”
“That’s your choice, of course. If you’d feel more comfortable with a lawyer at your side, you may call one when we reach headquarters. Or, I suppose you could even call one from here and have him meet you at our office. Might save some time.”
I considered my options. It irritated me that Detective Burgundy assumed all lawyers were men. I did know a lawyer—a woman whom Francine had asked to offer me legal advice concerning certain aspects of writing lyrics and song titles. But why bother her now? I knew so little about yesterday’s happenings at the mansion that I felt sure I wouldn’t say anything to incriminate myself.
“I’ll not bother with calling a lawyer, Detective. How long should I plan to be away?”
“I’ll have you back here within the hour unless we encounter interruptions. If you need to let someone know your whereabouts, I’ll wait here while you make a call.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
He opened the car door for me, and I eased onto the passenger seat. We headed toward North Roosevelt and drove to police headquarters, stopping in front of the station grounds when we heard sirens begin to wail. The police and fire stations are adjacent to each other, and we waited while a fire truck exited the driveway. Then, once Burgundy entered the parking lot, I saw signs marking reserved parking slots for both Detectives Burgundy and Cassidy.
After opening the car door for me, Burgundy walked alongside me toward the station. The walls looked pink in the afternoon sunlight—an unusual color for a police station, I thought. We hurried inside the smoky-smelling entryway and took an elevator to the detectives’ second-floor office.
“Please have a chair,” Burgundy said, “and I’ll tell Detective Cassidy you’ve arrived.”
Two steel file cabinets, two pine desks with captain’s chairs, and two folding chairs for visitors almost filled the office. A closed window overlooked the street below, and the stench of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Did I dare ask that the window be opened? No, probably not. I decided to speak only when spoken to, and I didn’t have to wait long.
“Good afternoon, Miss Green. Thank you for coming in on such short notice.”
“Good afternoon, sir.” I wondered if Cassidy wore the same suit every day or if he had a closet full of gray look-alikes. Both officers sat at their desks and pulled out yellow legal-size pads and ballpoints. Steely-eyed and grim-faced, Cassidy fired the first question. It didn’t scare me.
“Your name and address, please.”
A warm-up formality. I replied although we both knew he already had my name and address well in mind. I braced myself for the next question.
“Miss Green, I understand your plane landed at Key West International last night at seven-thirty as scheduled.”
“That’s right.”
“And you didn’t reach Eden Palms until around nine o’ clock due to traffic problems in the area.”
“That’s right.”
“At that time, did you suspect that Francine Shipton might be dead?”
The question shocked me and I felt a deep uneasiness. “No, sir. I had no reason to believe that she might be dead.”
“Who had planned to meet you at the airport?”
“Francine Shipton.” Cassidy’s gaze was unidirectional, but so was mine. I didn’t intend to be the one to look away first.
“What did you think when she failed to appear?”
“I thought she must have been delayed by something beyond her control. I waited for a while expecting her to arrive at any minute, and when she didn’t, I took a taxi. I hoped we wouldn’t pass each other en route to our destinations.”
“When you reached the mansion, what was your first impression?”
“When I saw the crime scene tape, I knew it indicated serious trouble, that police usually use it in the event of an unexplained or suspicious death.”
“Who did you think might have died?”
I refused to tell Cassidy about my note from Francine. He hadn’t asked about my correspondence with her, and I wouldn’t tell unless asked. I hesitated too long, and Cassidy repeated his question.
“Miss Green, who did you think might have died?”
“Since Zack came toward my taxi to greet me and since only he and Francine lived in the mansion, I had to admit the possibility of Francine’s death.”
“Had she given you any indication that she might have been in danger.”
“Yes, sir. She did. She wrote a note urging me to hurry back to Key West.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said strange things had been happening at the mansion and that she had received threatening notes. She mentioned finding snakes in the solarium and that she felt frightened.”
“She give any names of the person or persons she felt might be frightening her?”
“No names. None at all.”
“Do you know of any enemies she might have had?”
“No. None. I’m rather new to the island, and I don’t know all of her acquaintances. But I’d never heard her mention having an enemy.”
“In the few times that you’ve visited the cottage and the mansion, have you ever encountered a blacksnake?”
“Encountered one? You mean inside the cottage?”
“Inside or outside. Either one. Have you seen blacksnakes in the area?”
“Only once, sir.”
“And when was that?”
“One morning about two years ago, I saw a blacksnake slither across the street and disappear into the grass in Courtney Lusk’s yard.”
“You’re good at identifying blacksnakes?”
“What do you mean—good at? I’m no herpetologist, if that’s what you mean. But in Iowa, during my childhood, my yo
unger brother introduced me to a variety of Midwestern snakes. All I can really tell you about the snake I saw that day is that it was black.”
“Did it scare you?”
“No.”
“You’re unafraid of snakes?”
“My brother taught me to be unafraid of them, and they don’t terrify me. However, I’d always rather see a snake before it sees me.”
“What would you do if you saw a snake today near Eden Palms?”
“I’d give it its space and walk in the other direction.”
“You’d make no effort to kill it?”
“Never. My brother taught both Mom and me that most snakes are harmless unless you frighten or threaten them. Snakes improve the environment by ridding their habitat of pesky creatures.”
Drat. I looked away first. What was with this man? Did he think I’d been shipping snakes to Key West for the express purpose of scaring Francine?
“Miss Green, do you still have the note Francine wrote you? The one in which she mentioned solarium snakes, being threatened, being afraid?”
I felt an adrenaline rush. I could say yes. Or I could say no. I didn’t want the police to involve me in this case. But I did want to do anything I could to help them apprehend Francine’s killer.
“Yes. I still have the note.”
“May we stop by your home and pick it up as a piece of evidence?”
“No need for that, sir.” I opened my purse, withdrew the note, and leaned forward to place it on his desk.
“I thank you for your cooperation, Miss Green. Detective Burgundy will drive you home now. You’re free to leave Key West if you care to, but please inform someone in this office of your travel plans.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll remember that.” What did that mean—that I could travel but they planned to keep track of my whereabouts?
Detective Burgundy escorted me to his car and we headed for my cottage.
“You handled that quite well, Miss Green. Sometimes Detective Cassidy can seem formidable.”
A good description, I thought. Formidable. “That’s understandable. He has a tough job. I guess he can’t smile and risk giving people the impression that he isn’t taking his job seriously.”
Eden Palms Murder Page 10
