Daiquiri Dock Murder

by Dorothy Francis

  “Rafa?” Kane called as he rang my doorbell. “Rafa?”

  I opened the door quickly and almost fell into Kane’s arms. He stepped inside and closed the door before we kissed.

  “You look gorgeous, Rafa.”

  “Because I knew you’d notice if I didn’t,” I teased. “You look pretty neat yourself. But enough compliments. How’s your boat? What was the problem? And did you get it fixed?”

  “One question at a time, woman. And we’d better head for The Frangi before Mama G storms right to your suite to get you.”

  And that’s what we did. We were the last to arrive before guests began to leave the elevator and head our way. The torch flames undulated in a gentle breeze. I recognized Threnody’s subtle gardenia scent and smiled at her as she came closer. Kane started to tell me about his boat motor, but the sound of Mama G’s conch shell made him shake his head and wait. When she stopped blowing, Brick headed our way. I nodded to talk to him but when he and Kane began discussing motors, I welcomed the chance to draw Threnody aside where we could speak without being overheard.

  “I know Brick’s bell at the mansion is the same one in Snipe Gross’s snapshots, Rafa. I memorized the etchings around the bell’s rim. I said nothing to Brick about it. Didn’t want to have to answer any questions. But I think it’s a strange situation.”

  “Maybe not so strange. We both know Brick prowls antique shops and flea markets. And sometimes stuff like that appears at auctions. That bell could have belonged to several people before Brick owned it.”

  “Of course, you’re right. But something about the situation gives me the creeps. Had the bell been left in place, it might now belong to Kane.”

  “It’s the blue line that matters, Threnody. The blue line. We learned nothing more about that.” After Threnody sang her opening song, I busied myself talking to our guests, seeing that they were comfortable and enjoying their refreshments. Threnody helped Dolly in the kitchen. A lady sitting near the combo stand motioned to me and when I reached her side, she asked for a margarita, blended, salted rim. Making my way through the dancers to the kitchen, I waited while Dolly prepared the drink.

  When I picked up a serving tray, set the margarita on a napkin in the center of the tray and prepared to leave the kitchen, Dolly stepped forward.

  “I’ll carry it to her,” Dolly said. “You’re supposed to smile and greet, not carry trays.”

  “I’ll do this one, Dolly. The woman was very nice, and I think a little extra attention will please her.”

  I kept the tray and turned toward the dance floor, hoping to edge around the inner perimeter and serve the margarita without disturbing the dancers. I almost reached the woman’s table. She turned to smile at me when suddenly I tripped over a foot in my path. The tray crashed to the floor. Glass shattered. Then I lost my balance and fell on top of the spilled drink and the broken glass. Who had tripped me? Accidentally? On purpose? The threatening call replayed in my mind. I tried to study the people nearby, but their faces blurred. Strangers. Pain shot up my leg.

  Mama G saw my plight. She kept the combo playing, hammering out a loud piano tune with lots of thumbnail glissandos in an effort to keep attention focused on the combo rather than on my clumsiness. Stabbing pain froze me in place. Kane came to my rescue, trying to help me up. Now blood mingled with margarita added more slipperiness to the floor

  People at the nearby tables jumped to their feet. When Dolly rushed toward us with towels to mop up the spill, I noticed two women trying to brush margarita from their gowns with napkins. A man stood behind each of them, helping them to their feet and hurrying them from The Frangi to the hallway. Had one of those women caused me to trip? Why were they hurrying away?

  Once I regained my footing again, I looked down at a long rip in my skirt. Would the fabric hide most of my injury? Blood trickled from my knee to my ankle.

  “Oh, her skirt!” a woman exclaimed.

  “It’s ruined,” another said.

  “Ripped on one of those stiletto heels,” a third chimed in.

  I wanted to tell them to hush, that I wasn’t badly injured.

  Threnody came running to help Dolly mop up the spill, but I saw no reason for my fall. I remembered feeling a foot in my path.

  “Help’s on its way.” Kane supported me as we left The Frangi. “Can you make it to your suite? Or think you should stay here?”

  “I can make it. I’ll be okay in a minute or two. Don’t call for help.”

  “Too late. The desk clerk downstairs alerted one of the hotel guests—a doctor. He’s coming right up.”

  “Drat, Kane. I don’t need all that fuss.”

  “Threnody and I think you do need all that fuss—as you put it.”

  Once Kane and Threnody helped get me settled in my suite, the doctor arrived. Plump. Bushy haired. Kindly eyes. Hotel robe pulled on over maybe over nothing. I couldn’t tell for sure. Did he always carry his medical case when he traveled? I wondered. His words and actions assured me that my cuts were superficial, but there was no way of easing my mental anguish without including Kane in the conversation.

  “Superficial cuts,” Dr. Plumply said. “Keep them lightly bandaged until tomorrow. You’ll be fine. Take it easy tonight and get plenty of rest.”

  I thanked him for his help, but I doubt he heard me. For him it was far past yawn time. He left before anyone could protest or pay him for his call.

  I felt rattled and off balance, and now I knew I had to tell Kane and Threnody about my threatening call.

  And that’s what I did.

  “Rafa, you know you should have told Chief Ramsey the minute you broke off the connection with the caller. He might have had a way to trace the call. Police can do things ordinary citizens can’t do.”

  “Give me a break. I felt safe on our boat trip. I felt safe on our trip to Marathon. I planned to call Ramsey first thing in the morning—really I did.”

  “You waited too long before making that call. I’m not leaving you alone here tonight.” Kane plopped down in an easy chair as if he intended to sleep there all night.

  “I told Brick I’d stay here with you tonight,” Threnody said. “Once The Frangi closes for the night he’ll drive home without me. Maybe both of us should stay, Kane.”

  “Out! Out! Both of you. I’m going to be fine right here—alone. No need for anyone to stay with me.” I sounded braver than I felt. Ever since I fell from my balcony, I doubted the penthouse security system. But I’d keep my door locked. Nobody could enter without my permission.

  “I don’t like the idea of your staying here alone,” Kane said. “I’d invite you to spend the night on The Buccaneer, but I doubt you’d adjust to one of those hard bunks.”

  Threnody spoke up before I could answer Kane. “If you don’t want me to stay here with you, Rafa, at least come with me after The Frangi closes. Spend the night at my place.”

  My reaction to that idea must have shown on my face. Threnody spoke again before either Kane or I could protest.

  “There’s a spare room at the mansion, Rafa. Don’t know what it was used for in the past. Maybe a maid’s quarters. It’s unsuitable for a guest room. But it has a lock in place—an old-fashioned hasp on the inside of the door.”

  “No point in causing you a problem,” I argued. “I’ll be fine right here.”

  “Brick and Jessie are driving to Miami tonight. They’ll check into a hotel so they’ll be there for a business meeting first thing in the morning. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d come over, Rafa. I dislike spending the night alone. It’s a creepy place after dark—guess that’s why it’s one of the stops on the Key West ghost tours.”

  Kane laughed. “Good try, Threnody. Since when did you start believing in ghosts? Those after-midnight ghost walks are strictly for tourists who want a good story to tell the folks up north. Believe me. Some of the tales may be true, but I’m guessing others have grown with embellishment.”

  “Okay, you two. I’m perfectly okay for s
taying here alone tonight, but I’ve read that ghost tour booklet. Whether they’re true or untrue it’d be nice for Threnody to have some company tonight.”

  Kane shrugged when I started packing a small overnight case. “Your choice, Rafa. I won’t force myself on you, but remember this. You do have my name at the top of the list on your speed dial. If anything causes either of you the least worry or fright, call me. Deal?”

  “Deal!” Kane glanced at his watch. “Be quittin’ time in another hour or so. Get some rest, Rafa, and keep your door locked until The Frangi closes.”

  Chapter 35

  Once Kane left and I’d packed my cosmetics, a for-emergencies-only sleep shirt, and a change of clothes, I was ready to leave my suite. Threnody moved to an easy chair and turned on the TV.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “If you’d rather spend the night here, I can arrange for that, but…”

  “No. We need to go to my place, but I want to give Brick and Jessie plenty of time to pack their essentials and leave. Don’t want to see them again tonight—and maybe have to answer questions.”

  So we waited a few more minutes before we stepped into the moonlit night and I flung my overnight case onto the back seat of the Prius. We left, passing the swimming pool as we headed for the mansion. I’d never been to the third floor of Threnody’s spacious home, and I hoped the climb wouldn’t cause my leg to start bleeding again. After we drove down the lane and turned onto the Vexton property, I stopped at the front door, but Threnody spoke up.

  “Let’s use the back door, Rafa. Your car will be out of sight there. No need to advertise that you’re spending the night here.”

  I parked where she suggested beside her Caddi, seeing Brick’s car nowhere in sight. Nor Jessie’s. Good. I peered up at a window on the third floor. “That the spare room?”

  “Right. We seldom use it. Use only the second floor guest rooms. Saves everyone a climb.”

  “I could stay on the second floor if it’s more convenient for you.”

  “No. I promised you a locked room. You’ll find a hasp inside the door of the third-floor room. Tonight I’ll sleep up there, too, in the tiny alcove right across a narrow hallway from your room. There’s a louvered door and a daybed there. If you need help during the night, you can call me. I’ll be close by.”

  I parked the car and we both got out. Moonlight made the night almost bright as day, but Threnody hurried ahead of me to snap on a porch light. When I turned to get my overnight case from the back seat of the car, the dome light flashed on again and I saw my fishing rod on the floor. Drat. I should have taken care of it when I came in earlier this afternoon.

  “Come on, Rafa.” Threnody opened the back door and reached around the jamb to switch on a light in the kitchen. “What’s the problem?”

  “No problem. But do you have a water hose back here someplace?”

  “Rafa, it’s late.” Threnody returned to my side. “Why do you need a hose? What we both need is some sleep. Come on. Let me carry your bag.”

  From the light on the porch, I saw a garden hose coiled near the porch under a spigot that jutted out from the house. “This’ll only take a minute. I forgot about my fishing rod. It’s still in the car and I need to hose it down. Shouldn’t have left it this afternoon coated with salt water. It’s my favorite rod.”

  “You can wash it off in the morning. One night isn’t going to make any difference.”

  I knew Threnody might be right. But my personal rule required me to take care of fishing tackle immediately after I finished using it. Gram gave me this rod, my favorite, years ago. I turned on the hose.

  “Okay,” Threnody called. “Have it your way. Can I help?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll be finished in a sec, then I’ll prop the rod against the porch and let it drip dry.”

  Threnody laughed. “Sure you don’t want to towel it down and put it to beddy bye in a velvet case?” I knew she was joking and being a bit sarcastic, but I did wish I could towel the rod dry right then. However, I pretended otherwise and followed her into the house. The spic and span kitchen opened into a breakfast nook where we’d enjoyed macaroons. A small table sat with dishes and silver in place, ready for use in the morning.

  “Want anything to eat before we settle down for the night—the rest of the night, that is.” She looked at her watch and yawned.

  “Thanks, but no. Let’s get to bed.”

  Threnody carried my overnight bag, and I followed her upstairs, listening to the creaks and groans of the seldom-used steps, feeling the old treads dip to the center. When we entered the third floor bedroom, Threnody unfolded a luggage rack and laid my bag on it before she flung open a window to admit a light breeze.

  “Shut it in a few minutes, if you feel too cool, Rafa. We keep this floor closed most of the time. It needs to air out, but the bed’s made and ready for use. Guess I have Dolly take care of the beds like you take care of your fishing tackle. Want them to be ready at a moment’s notice—even this one.”

  Pine paneling covered both the walls and the ceiling of the room, giving it a special charm of its own, charm that no wallpaper or paint could match. Once Threnody closed the door, I dropped the bolt hanging from a chain through the hasp, changed into my sleep shirt and eased onto the bed. Both the mattress and the pillow felt soft and comfortable. I tried to relax.

  After such a long, hard day, fishing with Kane, talking with Snipe Gross, working and falling at The Frangi, I thought I’d drop off to sleep immediately. But no. I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to some night bird calling into the silence. Mourning doves. Do they mourn at night? I didn’t count sheep. Instead, I counted the many questions still plaguing my mind concerning Diego’s murder.

  The blue line tying Diego’s feet matched the blue line on Kane’s boat. The blue line on Kane’s boat had disappeared. A normal thing, right? A normal thing for Kane to get rid of anything that might tie him to Diego’s death.

  Much as I tried to forget my plunge from the balcony, it loomed in my mind, preventing sleep. Someone had deliberately called me, intending for me to fall—to my death. Had the laundry ladies not been working on the laundry room balcony two floors below, I might not be lying sleepless tonight. Who wanted me out of the way? I shuddered when I thought of the threatening call I’d received and then my fall in The Frangi tonight. Someone thought I was getting too close to exposing Diego’s killer. But how could that be? Tonight I felt as far from knowing the murderer’s identity as I did the morning after I found Diego’s body in the sea. Pablo? Kane? Brick? Jessie? I refused to add Threnody and Dolly to the list.

  Putting those memories from my mind, I thought again about the bell that had once been on Kane’s boat years ago, the bell that now hung at Brick’s front door. Was that a clue to the killer’s identity, or was it merely a result of Brick’s fondness of antiques? I wished now I’d asked him where he got the bell. Many times he liked to tell the history associated with his artifacts.

  Too many puzzles. Too few solutions. Just as I felt myself beginning to fall asleep, I heard a car door slam. On my Prius? On Threnody’s Caddi? I bolted upright. No mistake. The sound had carried through the open window. I eased from bed and tip-toed to the window. My car keys glinted in the moonlight that fell on my bedside table where I’d left them before I turned out the lamp. Nobody could get in my car. Maybe Threnody hadn’t locked the Caddi. I peered out the window, looking down at the two cars.

  Nothing moved. No sound broke the quiet. Even the night bird remained silent. What had disturbed it? Watch your back. Words from the telephone threat did a re-run in my mind. Tonight I translated them to watch your car. In all the fuss about hosing down my fishing rod, maybe I forgot to click on the door lock.

  I continued to watch. I continued to hear nothing. But I had to know for sure that I’d locked my car doors. Key West is noted for attracting a high population of the world’s homeless. I didn’t want any of them sleeping in my car—or Threnody’s.

 
; Easing to the bedside table, I picked up my car keys, padded back to the window and pushed the lock button. The lock clicked. The car’s lights flashed for an instant. So! I had left it unlocked. But maybe the lights would flash even if I pushed the lock twice. I’d never found reason to think about that. I pushed the unlock button and heard the door unlock, saw the lights flash. Then I locked it again. No matter that I hadn’t had the emergency button repaired. The sound of the lock and the flash of light should scare off prowlers.

  In reading books, I always laughed when the story’s endangered heroine stepped into some dark and dangerous place where she was almost sure to be accosted, raped, or killed. Now I contemplated playing the part of the endangered heroine in my own story. I needed to creep downstairs, step into Threnody’s back yard, and make sure both cars were okay—and locked.

  No. I wouldn’t be so dumb. I’d wake Threnody. After I told her what I’d seen and heard, we’d go downstairs together to check on our cars. Threnody would want to make sure her car was locked.

  I undid the hasp, stepped into the narrow hallway and approached Threnody’s alcove. The breeze caused by the opened door molded my sleep shirt to my body. No time now to think about sleep shirts. I tapped gently on the alcove door, wanting to make no noise that might carry outside and alert an intruder.

  No response.

  Although I hated to, I knocked louder. Hairs rose on my nape and I only waited a few seconds before I turned the door knob, opened the door.

  No Threnody. The bed lay empty, yet I’d heard no one leave the room. No footsteps on the creaky stair treads. Had I fallen asleep unaware I’d been sleeping and dreaming? No. I couldn’t believe that.

  “Threnody?” I whispered. No answer. Maybe she’d gone to the bathroom.

  “Threnody?” I spoke louder, but still no response.

  Now, unmindful of the need for silence, I hurried on down the stairs, forgetting about my injured leg. When I reached the kitchen, I snapped on a light. No Threnody. I opened the back door.