“I can’t afford a lawyer,” Mitch said.
“Then the court will appoint one,” Cassidy said. “You’ll have legal representation.”
“Sure he will,” I said. “You’ll appoint some twad of a lawyer who’s been unable to get a client on his own for years. This isn’t fair! I want to go to the police station with you. Zack? Zack, you’ll go along, too, won’t you?”
Detective Cassidy gave me his full attention. “Miss Green, your behavior is highly unusual. What’s your special interest in Mr. Mitchell?”
I dropped back onto the couch and elevated my leg on the footstool, realizing I’d said too much. It was bad enough that they intended to question Mitch. He’d be in even worse trouble if I gave away his witness-in-protection status.
“Miss Green?” Cassidy’s gaze bored into me.
“My only interest in Mr. Mitchell lies in knowing Francine Shipton considered him a trusted employee. She read people well. She’d never have offered employment to a…a murderer.”
“The court will be the judge of that,” Cassidy said. Then he looked at Mitch. “Let’s go.”
I stood again, but Mitch avoided my gaze. Facing the door, he walked between the detectives to the police car. Cassidy opened the passenger door and nudged him onto the seat while Burgundy sat on the backseat behind him. Tears burned behind my eyelids, and my throat felt stiff as a steel gaff when I watched the car leave.
“This can’t be happening, Zack. They can’t take Mitch away like this. They can’t.”
“But they did. I’m sorry, Bailey.” Zack wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my lips, and, forgetting my anger at him, I returned his kisses before we broke apart.
“Zack, we have to do something to help. What if they arrest him?”
Zack shook his head. “They didn’t say anything about arresting him. I can understand why they want to question a guy who had both opportunity and motive to murder.”
“Opportunity, yes. That’s true. Mitch had the opportunity. Francine gave him the run of the house and the grounds. But motive? Mitch had no motive. No motive at all. He wanted to help the homeless and the helpless. Seems to me he’d have wanted Francine to live, to establish her shelter annex.”
“You may be right, I suppose. I sympathize with you, but you’ll have to admit that your brother’s life and lifestyle are unique.”
“Right. And if the police dig into his background, their snooping’s going to put him in danger.”
“I think he’s already in danger—if not from the police here, then from the meth barons in Iowa. But maybe Mitch has an alibi for last Monday afternoon.”
“He does. Airtight. He told me that. He spent the late Monday afternoon working at Two Friends Patio with Quinn Bahama. She’ll vouch for him.”
Zack smiled. “That’s good news. If you feel up to it, maybe we should talk to Quinn right now. Maybe she’d be willing to go with us to the police station if it’d help Mitch out of a tight spot.”
“You think they might release him?”
“That’s a possibility. How’s your leg?”
“No pain. No blood. Let’s go.” I started to get up, then I sank back onto the couch.
“What’s the problem?”
“The last time I saw Quinn, she yelled at me and stormed off in a rage.”
“Maybe she’s softened up by now. It’s worth a chance.”
“Right. It is. But I’ll feel rotten if she won’t help us, if I’ve accidentally hurt Mitch.”
“You’re borrowing trouble. Shall we call Quinn at the restaurant, or take our chances and show up at her door?”
“Let’s take our chances. I hate facing her, but a call would make it too easy for her to say no.”
Zack helped me into the car and we drove to Old Town. Even with his good-parking karma, we couldn’t find a legal spot. We stopped in a tow-away zone and he left the motor running.
“Hope the cops are too busy on Duval to notice.” He turned on emergency blinkers. “Wait while I try to find Quinn? If the police give you a bad time, drive on. Circle the block.”
“Will do.”
Zack returned before I had time to worry about being towed. “Her shift starts a little later. Think she’ll be at home?”
“Guess it’s worth a try.”
Zack threaded our way through Old Town and drove to the A-frame where we’d boarded the helicopter. Even in daylight tropical growth almost masked the house, which was set a short distance from the ’copter pad.
“Want me to go to the door first?” Zack asked.
I squelched a “yes.”
“Let’s both go. It’s harder to refuse two people, right?”
Zack opened the car door for me then offered his arm. I tried to avoid putting all my weight on my injured leg, and Zack slid his arm around my waist to offer support. I liked his nearness. When we reached the house, the door stood open. No doorbell. No knocker. Zack gave a sharp rap on the screen door. Quinn appeared almost immediately.
“Oh!”
She started to smile at Zack, but the smile faded when she saw me.
“We need to talk to you, Quinn,” Zack said.
“What about?” She didn’t open the door.
“About one of your coworkers at the restaurant—Mitch Mitchell. You know him, right?”
“Yes, of course I know him. The dishwasher.”
“He’s in trouble,” Zack said. “And you can help him.”
“What kind of trouble? And how can I help? I really know little about him other than that he’s a good dishwasher. Dependable.”
“May we come inside?” Zack asked.
Quinn sighed and opened the door. I knew she wanted to smile at Zack, but she couldn’t without including me, whom she didn’t want to smile at ever again. She led us into a room that served as living area, family area, dining area. The room with its white-paneled walls and wicker furniture padded with yellow cushions made a charming backdrop for Quinn’s blondness.
“Okay,” Quinn said once we were seated. “What’s up?” She glanced at her watch. “I’m due at work in half an hour.”
“We’ll be brief,” Zack said.
Quinn focused on Zack. I felt invisible. Zack explained Mitch’s predicament and waited for Quinn’s response.
“This guy could be a cold-blooded murderer and you’re asking me to vouch for him?”
“That’s right.” I spoke up. “He’s innocent, and you can help prove it by telling the police you were working together at the time of Francine’s death.”
I’d frequently read about heavy silences. Zack and I experienced one. In the distance, gulls screamed. Closer by, a kitchen clock ticked. The refrigerator clicked on. Quinn sat silent as a chunk of coral and gave me a withering look.
“Quinn,” I pleaded. “Please come with us to police headquarters and tell the detectives you were working with Mitch last Monday.”
“Why is Mitch Mitchell, a dishwasher, so important to you?” Quinn scowled. “You gonna immortalize him by writing a song about him or something?” She jutted her chin and looked in my direction without allowing her gaze to meet mine.
“Come on, Quinn,” Zack said. “Here’s your chance to help a guy—a guy without friends in Key West. The cops may be locking him in a cell as we speak. Your vouching for him could change his life.”
“No.”
“Why not?” I demanded.
“Because.” Quinn glared at me again.
“Quinn, please do this for me. You’re a journalist, a fair-minded person. Speak up for Mitch Mitchell. His plight may be one you can write about later. You could make banner headlines in the Citizen.”
“No.”
Zack leaned forward. “I’ve done several things to help your husband, Quinn.”
“I know that. Ben and I appreciate your help and concern.”
“So I’m calling in a marker or two,” Zack said. “You can help this man. I don’t understand why you’re refusing.”
“If it’s because of my refusal to help you a few days ago…” I let my voice trail away, wondering what to say next.
“If this guy’s so lily pure, his innocence will come out later. Surely, there’ll be more than one person who’ll testify in his behalf.”
“We can’t be sure of that,” I said. “Think about this murder, Quinn. The police are tippy-toeing around it big-time. They don’t want to arrest one of the wealthy Shipton neighbors. They don’t want to arrest Francine’s son and heir. But now they’ve found a scapegoat. They won’t have to ruffle any feathers. How easy it’ll be to blame the murder on the itinerant yardman, the lowly dishwasher. Who do you think will stand up for this guy if you refuse?”
For a moment I thought Quinn might storm from the room and leave us sitting alone. Instead, she burst into tears. Wracking sobs. Zack rose and walked to her, took her hand in his.
“What’s wrong, Quinn? We didn’t come here to cause you grief.”
Quinn sobbed until she ran out of sobs. I studied her. She’s the kind who can weep without her face getting red as a channel marker, without her nose running like high tide, without her eyes swelling like a puffer fish. How does she manage that?
Zack patted her shoulder. “Come on, Quinn. If you’ve a problem with Mitch, maybe we can help you.”
Quinn sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Excuse the cliché, but I’m between a dock piling and a boat hull. I can’t vouch for Mitch last Monday without putting my marriage at risk.”
“Your marriage?” I leaned forward. “You’re having an affair with Mitch?”
“No. No, of course not. But that’s what Ben might suspect. Ben seems like an easygoing shrimper to most people. Not so. He hides his insecurity well.”
“Are you saying Ben’s jealous of Mitch?” I asked.
Quinn shrugged. “I hope not. But that’s why I told him I was working with Mazie Younkers last Monday. A little white lie, right? I thought it’d put Ben at ease. There’s nothing going on between Mitch and me.”
“But Ben tends to be jealous,” Zack guessed. “And I can understand that, Quinn. With a pretty wife like you…”
“I really want to do the right thing,” Quinn said. “But yes, Ben’s jealous of the people I associate with while he’s out shrimping. I love the guy and I love my marriage.”
“Quinn,” Zack said. “If I promise you the police will never reveal your vouching for Mitch, will you tell them your story?”
“Can you make that promise and make it stick?” Quinn asked.
“Yes,” Zack said. “It’ll stick for today at least. But if you should be called upon to testify in court later, will you do that?”
Quinn hesitated and I spoke. “Quinn, if you’ll do that for me, I’ll make a deal with you.”
“What sort of a deal?”
“I’ll give you the lead to a story about a missing person. I won’t do any investigating for you. Digging for details will be up to you. But I can tell you for sure that there’s a homeless person missing from this city, a person who already may be dead. And Mitch Mitchell may have important information about that person.”
“That’s a lot of mays,” Quinn said.
“Right, but isn’t that how good stories start? You handle this material well and it’ll make headlines. You could find yourself on the staff at the Citizen.”
“I have a few friends at the newspaper,” Zack said. “You write that story, and I’ll see that it gets into the right hands.”
The clock ticked thirty long seconds before Quinn made up her mind.
THIRTY-ONE
“All right,” Quinn said at last. “I’ll do what I can for Mitch, and I’ll expect you to keep my secret. No squealing to Ben. As far as Ben knows, I was working with Mazie Younkers.”
“Right,” Zack agreed. “That’s the way it’ll be. Can you come with us to the station now?”
Quinn glanced at her watch. “I have a little time before I need to report at Two Friends, but I have to get dressed—in uniform and ready to work. Who knows how long I’ll have to be at the station! Why don’t I drive and meet you there?”
“Fine with me.” Zack stood and made a show of helping me up. If Quinn noticed my limp, she didn’t mention it. “See you at the station in about fifteen minutes, okay?”
“I’ll be there.”
Quinn watched from her doorway until we passed the helicopter pad and turned from her driveway.
“Don’t worry,” Zack said, reading my mind. “She’ll show. She and Ben are decent people. Dependable people.” Zack grinned. “That’s important on an island where ‘I’ll be there’ usually means I’ll be there if it isn’t a good fishing day and I decide to drown a few bait shrimp.”
“Zack, please take me home. I have an important errand and I need my own car. I’ll be at the station as soon as I can.”
“Well…okay. But you need to give your leg plenty of rest. Don’t want the wound to open.”
“Ever feel a need to be two places at the same time? I want to be at headquarters to speak up for Mitch, but I need to go to the Phrame Shop to have some film developed, film that may help prove his innocence.”
“Maybe Mitch would be better off without you vouching for him. You heard Cassidy question your interest in a gardener. Your relationship with Mitch looks strange to those out of the loop.”
“Right. I don’t want to have to explain to the detectives. But, soon as I’m finished at the Phrame shop, I’ll come to the police station.”
“Fine. You have the film with you?”
I pulled my camera from around my neck and opened it, sorry to have to ruin the rest of the unexposed film. “Some shots here might help Mitch prove that Wizard is missing and may need help.”
“Go easy, Bailey. If Wizard’s missing, there’s a good reason for his absence. If he’s involved in illegal activities, the cops may be on his trail. There are lots of authorities besides the police. Marine patrol. Shore patrol.”
We had reached Eden Palms, and Zack drove me to the carport. “Got your keys? Sure you feel up to making this trip alone? I could drive us to the station then take you to the photo shop later.”
“My leg feels fine. No pain at all. Don’t worry about me. I feel fine. I’ll do my errand and then meet you and Quinn as we planned.” I left the convertible before he could come around and open the door for me.
“Easy, Bailey. Easy.”
“Thanks, Zack. ’Bye and thanks for everything.” I tried not to limp when I walked to the Lincoln and slid under the wheel.
“I hate goodbyes,” Zack called. “Don’t make our parting sound so final. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Thank goodness it was my left leg I’d injured. Driving was no biggie. Even so, Zack waited for me to leave the carport, watched while I turned toward the Searstown Mall, and followed me until he reached his turnoff.
One great thing about Searstown is the plethora of un-metered parking spaces. I claimed a slot right in front of the Photo and Phrame Shop. It sat tucked between a pawnshop and an ice-cream bar. I smiled at Free, short for “Free Throw,” Glockner behind the counter. All the locals know Free, a former basketball star for the high school Conchs. Tall, black, and handsome, he towered over me when I pulled the film from my purse.
“And I suppose you’re in a hurry—as usual?” His velvet-smooth voice matched the smile that flashed easily from his lips to his eyes. In the few times I’d visited Key West, I’d called on Free to help me out now and then. He was one of the few people who understood that when I needed a picture to help me write a descriptive ballad, I needed it yesterday.
“This time I’m in a big hurry, Free. How soon can you get this roll developed and printed?”
Free looked around his empty shop and gave a shrug along with a palms-up gesture. “Got nobody breathing down my neck. It’s been a snail-pace afternoon. You watch the counter while I do the darkroom thing and I’ll have your pics out in a few minutes.”
�
�Deal. Anyone comes in, I’ll call you.”
“You might consider investing in a digital camera, Bailey. I carry several brands.”
“No way.” I patted the camera hanging around my neck. “At least no way as long as my old camera still works.”
Nobody came in. It seemed like hours, but it was only minutes, until Free opened the darkroom door and beckoned. “Want to see? Got the pics out of solution hanging to dry.”
I rushed to look at the pictures dangling from a thin line stretched above a work counter. The room smelled of lotions and potions I couldn’t identify, but I was interested in the film, not the smells.
“How they look to you?” Free asked. “Get the ones you wanted?”
I studied the shots one by one, my heart pounding when I realized the one with Gravely and the flag looked clear and well defined. And so did the one with Wizard wearing his scarf. I grinned my approval.
“How long before I can take them with me?”
“Very shortly. Give me a few more minutes. Need extra copies?”
I selected two shots. “Three each of these, please, and only one of the others.”
I watched until Free was almost finished making the prints before I dashed to the ice-cream bar next door and ordered him a triple chocolate malt. I’d been planning to resist, but temptation won out. I ordered a triple for myself, too. Free and I weren’t into worrying about cholesterol, and the malts paved my path to a friendly business relationship with him.
While Free slurped his malt, I set mine aside and selected the prints I wanted. “I need three envelopes, please.”
Free stopped slurping long enough to find the envelopes.
I placed copies of Wizard wearing the scarf and copies of Gravely beside the flag into three separate envelopes. After labeling one envelope for me, one for the police, and the third for Zack, I left Zack’s envelope with Free.
“Please take special care of that special envelope, Free. Give it to nobody except Zack Shipton. You know Zack, right?”
“Right. Everyone knows Zack.”
I paid Free, adding a mega-tip in addition to the malt. Picking up my own treat, I left the shop and headed for the Lincoln. I keyed in my combination on the lock pad. Nothing. My hands shook. What a rotten time for mechanical failure!
Eden Palms Murder Page 22
