Eden Palms Murder

by Dorothy Francis

  TWENTY-SIX

  Zack! Had Zack seen Gravely and me struggling over the camera? Was Zack coming to my rescue? But had Gravely and I really been struggling? Or had I blown the scene out of proportion? Gravely had made no threats, and his voice often sounded oily and sarcastic. I owed him an apology. I’d been out of line when I boarded his boat uninvited. Had I known that it was his boat and that he stood so near, I’d have asked permission or waited for an invitation aboard.

  “Good morning, mates.” Zack’s smile lingered longer on me than on Gravely, and when our eyes met, I knew we both were remembering last night’s pleasures. Then Zack looked directly at Gravely. “Going fishing, Win?”

  “Not today. Too choppy. Heard small-craft warnings earlier. I’m here to check on my boat. Cops have reported kids prowling the marina at night, and I’m afraid the dockmaster’s being too lenient with security. You had any problems with your boat? Or Francine’s?”

  “No. Not that I’ve noticed. But I haven’t had time to take either boat out lately.”

  I saw Zack study Gravely’s boat, saw his gaze linger a moment on the floorboard before he scanned the rest of the craft. I was so glad to have Zack break up my encounter with Gravely that I almost forgot about Mitch.

  “Yeah.” Winton’s voice jerked my mind back to the present. “Guess none of us have enjoyed much on-the-water time recently.”

  Done any night fishing lately?” Zack asked. “I know that’s not your thing, but Ben says the shrimp have been running the past week or so. Under the bridges. Especially under the Boca Chica. We might give that a try. Get our minds off the police investigation.”

  “Count me out, Zack. You know I hate night fishing.” A tic pulled at Gravely’s cheek when he continued. “Even using a compass and channel markers, I get disoriented in the dark.”

  “How about taking my boat and letting me play pilot? Bailey, maybe you’d like to join us. Some of Ben’s friends working under the Boca Chica brought up a bucket full the other night in only an hour or so. Those shrimp make tasty eating.”

  “Thanks, Zack, but I’ll pass.” No way was I going shrimping at night.

  Gravely laughed. “Why don’t you let me treat you to a good shrimp dinner at Kelly’s instead?”

  Zack slapped him on the back. “I may take you up on that, Win. Later.”

  Zack and Gravely stopped talking, and when I looked toward the main dock, I saw Mitch heading our way with a mug of coffee. When he saw Zack and Dr. Gravely, he changed direction and disappeared around the end of the chandlery.

  I knew Zack had not-so-subtly been maneuvering Gravely into talking about boats on the sea in the nighttime, but I was tired of pussyfooting around the subject. I stepped forward and looked Gravely in the eye.

  “Dr. Gravely, there’s something you need to know. Late last night while Zack and I were in a ’copter beyond the reef, releasing Francine’s ashes, we saw your boat below us.”

  “Impossible. I stayed home all evening.”

  The tic began working his cheek again. “Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t say you were in the boat. I only said we saw your boat. Anyone could have been at the wheel. Maybe some of the kids you mentioned. Maybe you’re right about lax security.”

  “You sure it was Sea Date?”

  Now Gravely looked directly at Zack, and I hoped Zack would forgive me for opening this discussion. But my words were true and I’d made no accusation. We had no proof that Gravely had been piloting Sea Date last night. None at all.

  “Yes, Win. We saw Sea Date. It cut through the water with no running lights. Ben lowered the ’copter close enough to scare the pilot and he pulled a gun.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a kid out joyriding to me,” I said.

  “Right,” Gravely said. “And I heard about the marijuana drop.” His cheek tic kicked in again. “If someone’s using my boat for a drug pickup…” His voice trailed off. “Come with me. I’m going to report this to the dockmaster—going to demand more security. I may need you two and your story to back me up.”

  We followed Gravely along the catwalk and into the chandlery where he beelined to the cashier’s counter. The smell of hemp rope, diesel fuel, and past-their-prime fish permeated the air. A small countertop grill with hot dogs turning on a spit caught my eye. A hot dog for breakfast? I toyed with the idea and then dismissed it when Gravely spoke to the cashier.

  “I demand to speak to a dockmaster,” he said. “In fact, I demand to speak to the dockmaster on duty last night. I’m Dr. Winton Gravely, a long-time patron of this marina.”

  “Has there been a problem, Dr. Gravely?” the cashier asked. “Perhaps I can help.”

  “I’d prefer to speak with the dockmaster.”

  The cashier pressed a buzzer and relayed Gravely’s request. “Send him up,” a voice replied.

  We took the stairs to the second floor and a dockmaster wearing white pants and a white T-shirt bearing the Chitting Marina logo stood waiting outside his office door.

  “Please come inside.” He motioned to two plastic chairs in front of a pine desk pockmarked with cigarette burns. “Have a seat.”

  Since there were only two chairs and three of us, we remained standing and waited while Gravely told his story, his suspicions. Zack and I related the facts of our helicopter ride. When the dockmaster reached for a phone to get in touch with the shore patrol, Zack eased me toward the door.

  “Look, we’ve told you what we saw.” Zack nodded to me, and I moved closer to him. “If anyone needs more information from us, we’ll be at Burger King—one of the few places open for early breakfast. Winton, when you’re through here, why don’t you join us for bacon and eggs?”

  Gravely looked nonplussed at our leaving, and he ignored Zack’s invitation. We managed to wedge my bicycle behind the bucket seats in the T-bird, and when Zack held my hand all the way to Burger King, it seemed a natural thing to do. Neither of us mentioned Courtney’s splash into the pool or our lovemaking that followed. Zack didn’t ask if I’d biked to the marina alone, and I never mentioned Mitch being with me.

  “I hate to have you biking alone, Bailey. I don’t want to scare you, but remember that note. The police are still hunting a murderer.”

  Zack didn’t know about the slashed tires, and I didn’t bring that up. Early-morning parking places were common as seagulls. After Zack chose one and plugged the meter, we followed the scent of bacon and hash browns.

  “Nothing better than breakfast under the sky,” I said after we’d carried omelets and toast to the second-floor open-air porch and stood for a moment looking over the railing at the scene below.

  Zack grinned and winked. “I can think of a few things. Moonlight. You in my arms.” He held my chair for me.

  After we sat and began eating, Zack’s playful demeanor disappeared. “Bailey, please tell me exactly what was going on between you and Winton this morning at the marina. Had he done something to scare you? You acted frightened.”

  I chose my words carefully, remembering Gravely was Zack’s friend. “I’m not sure what happened. I felt relieved to see you, that’s for certain. I’d stepped aboard Dr. Gravely’s boat to get a snapshot of the floorboard. I hadn’t seen him approaching, but when I hopped back to the catwalk, there he stood. Then in moments you arrived.”

  “It looked to me like he was reaching for your camera.”

  “I thought so, too, Zack, but I’m not sure. He had me on the defensive. I should have apologized to him immediately. I’d no business stepping aboard his boat, but when I saw that likeness of the sun and the conch, I had to snap a picture of it. At that time, I didn’t know Dr. Gravely owned the boat. I only knew that someone in that boat had been speeding in the nighttime without running lights. Violations like that should be reported. How did you happen to come to my rescue?”

  “If you interpreted my arrival as a rescue, you must have felt frightened.”

  “But you were there for me. You’d come looking for me?”

 
“When you weren’t at the cottage, I guessed what you were doing and where you might have come to do it. But, were you afraid of Winton?”

  “Maybe I just felt guilty for trespassing.”

  “Someone else could have hijacked his boat last night. That’s true. But highly unlikely. Those dockmasters are well trained. They know the comings and goings of the boats—especially the arrivals and departures at night. Most boaters like to be in before sundown.”

  “Then you think Dr. Gravely lied about being home last night, about suspecting someone else of using his boat?”

  “I’m like you, Bailey, not exactly sure what I think. Win may have been out in his own boat. No law against that—just an important law against running at night without lights.”

  “And maybe it was coincidental that a drug drop went down last night. Zack, do you think your friend’s involved in drug smuggling?”

  “No. I can’t believe that. We’ve been friends for years, and I’ve had no reason to distrust Win about anything. As far as I’m concerned he’s a straight arrow. He doesn’t need drug money. He has a thriving medical practice and clinic.”

  “Some people never reach a saturation point when it comes to money.” I added salt and a dash of Tabasco to my omelet just as Gravely stepped off the elevator carrying coffee and a plate of bacon and grits. Zack rose and pulled up another chair.

  “What did you learn from the dockmaster?” Zack asked.

  “Nothing all-important to your story about last night. The dockmaster—he’s the one who took my boat out last night, but only momentarily. Some marina patrons reported an oil slick and they thought oil was leaking from my boat.”

  “An oil slick is that important?” What kind of a weak story was this!

  “Yes,” Zack said. “Oil can pollute the water and cause a marina and its patrons a lot of problems.”

  “Well, the leak came from some other boat. Not mine.”

  “Does someone at the marina have keys to all the boats?” I asked.

  “Not usually,” Gravely said. “I’d left an extra key with them a few days ago so a mechanic could make some minor repairs.”

  “That doesn’t solve the mystery of who used your boat last night,” Zack said.

  “True,” Gravely agreed. “And that worries me. I’ve ordered the dockmasters to guard it more carefully in the future. Any more suspicious stuff and I’ll change marinas.”

  Gravely finished his grits and bacon and rose. “Excuse me for rushing off, please. I need to get back to my clinic.” He glanced at his watch. “Do keep in touch.”

  I waited until Gravely took the elevator down and disappeared from sight. “Zack, what do you think he was doing at the marina so early in the morning? Shouldn’t he have been at his clinic doing the pill-and-bedpan routine?”

  “I’m sure he has nurses to do those chores. Maybe marina officials called him about his boat repairs.”

  “On Saturday morning? Is that likely? Maybe he saw me take the bike out. Maybe he followed me here.”

  “I don’t know why he’d do that.”

  “You did.”

  “I didn’t know for sure you were here. I was guessing—and hoping. Are you afraid of Winton?”

  “He’s not my favorite person, but I trust him because you do.” Before Zack could respond, I tossed him a new subject. “Zack, do you really think it surprised Courtney to see us in the pool last night?”

  “Yes. Surprised and embarrassed. I don’t think she was putting on an act.”

  “Realtors are masters of putting on acts, of making prospective buyers see what the Realtor wants them to see. If they didn’t have that talent, they’d soon be out of business.”

  “Perhaps. But what reason would Courtney have had for making such an intrusion?”

  “You.” The word hung between us for a few seconds.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” I lowered my voice although we were the only people around. “I think Courtney had strong motive for murdering Francine. I think she sees herself married to you, retiring from real estate, and living happily ever after at Eden Palms. Maybe she thought all that blocked her dream was Francine, who enjoyed good health and who loved being deeply involved in Key West activities—Francine who had no thought of leaving her family home.”

  Zack shook his head. “But Mother did have thoughts of leaving the mansion. She had lots of thoughts and lots of plans for making it a homeless shelter. I couldn’t talk her out of that idea.”

  “I was almost ready to drop Courtney from our group of suspects, but I’ll have to admit that may be another reason to keep her high on our list. Courtney probably hated the idea of having a homeless shelter near. Of all the suspects, she had the most to gain from Francine’s death—you, Eden Palms, and a serene neighborhood.”

  “Bailey, I think you’re jealous of Courtney. She’s very low on my suspect list.”

  My face flushed at Zack’s accusation. Why couldn’t I drop the subject of Courtney? “She has no alibi for the time of the murder. Anyone could say they were at Mallory for the sunset celebration. And few people could actually provide proof. She chose a pseudo alibi that she knew would puzzle anyone who tried to make an in-depth effort to check it out.”

  “Well, that’s true. She couldn’t prove that she was at Mallory and we couldn’t prove that she wasn’t.”

  “So to make up for her lack of a solid alibi, Courtney comes on to you. You might say she shows you all she’s got in an effort to distract you from her lack of an alibi for last Monday.” Zack’s face flushed. From embarrassment? Anger? I wondered.

  “I’d like to change the subject to the Tisdales.” Zack shoved his plate aside. “I’ve been thinking more about Tucker. Just because he managed Mother’s funeral arrangements doesn’t prove he’s innocent of murder. So he says he was working at his business at the time Mother died. I don’t think he can prove that. Like most business owners, he had opportunity to be in and out of his office. I checked on that once when you weren’t with me. At that time, several of his employees vouched for his presence, but a double check wouldn’t hurt. And it might help.”

  “Might help to get Courtney off the hook?”

  “I don’t consider Courtney to be on a hook.”

  I added jam to my last piece of toast. “Do you think it strange that Mrs. Tisdale didn’t attend Francine’s funeral? Since the Tisdales were your neighbors and close friends I find her absence at the service strange.”

  “Not so. She was in North Carolina visiting her sister, and I announced the funeral service at the last minute. She had no chance to make travel arrangements.”

  I shrugged. “If my close friend had been murdered and I knew the police were doing an ongoing investigation, I think I’d have returned home immediately. And I’ve been thinking more about the Tisdale koi pond—and that snake. Water along with the tropical growth around the pond might attract snakes.”

  “So might the water in the Eden Palms pool.”

  “No. Your pool water’s chlorinated. I doubt snakes would like that.”

  “So now you know what snakes like and dislike?”

  “Zack, honestly now, what were you doing out and about so early this morning? Were you also looking for that boat we saw from the ’copter?”

  “No.” Zack looked at me until I met his level gaze. “I came looking for you. I saw you leave alone by bicycle, and that worried me. I followed and saw you meet your brother and again I smelled danger.”

  “You followed us!” Heat rose to my face. It irritated me to have been followed. On the other hand, I was pleased that Zack cared about my safety—pleased more than I wanted to admit.

  “Have you ever checked your brother’s whereabouts on last Monday afternoon? He presented a good story to the detectives.”

  “Not so. Had he presented a good story, he’d have avoided mentioning anything at all about snakes.”

  Zack finished his cup of coffee without commenting on my words.

  “Yo
u suspect Mitch of murdering your mother, Zack? If so, your suspicions about him are totally off base.”

  “Perhaps so. For your sake I hope so. But I intend to do an in-depth check on Mitch’s Monday activities.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  My anger simmered like a kettle of chowder. Not only had Zack accused me of being jealous of Courtney, but he’d also insinuated that Mitch might have murdered Francine. How could he be such a twad! How could he make love to me one minute and make light of my feelings the next? The air between us on the drive to Eden Palms might have blown in from Iowa, it felt that frosty. When he braked in front of the cottage I slid from the passenger seat without thanking him, stomped inside, and banged the door.

  Lover’s quarrel? No way! I needed to put space between me and Zack Shipton, move somewhere safe where I could think clearly. Did Zack plan to use Mitch as a red herring to distract the detectives from digging into his own whereabouts last Monday? Maybe I had slept with a murderer. Mitch was right. I needed to get away from Eden Palms.

  I hated this cottage, hated the whole neighborhood, hated Zack’s trying to make a scapegoat of Mitch. Francine had been my only friend, and now she was gone. Nobody wanted me here. Nobody. And somebody wanted me dead.

  Winton Gravely resented my boarding his boat. Courtney disliked me for living—and thwarting her pursuit of Zack. And now Zack! What were Zack’s true feelings? I wanted to pick up my marbles and go home. But I no longer had a home. For a moment I identified with Mitch’s friends. Where would I go if I left Francine’s cottage? Mitch’s one-room apartment? One room? Could I stand that? Yes. I’d endure anything in order to leave this cottage. Maybe I should have listened to Mom and stuck with my clerk’s job in Iowa.

  I keyed in Mitch’s number. Five rings before he answered. “It’s me, Mitch. I need your help.”

  “Again? What’s the buzz this time?”

  “Is the offer to use your apartment still open?”