1 Margarita Nights
Page 11
Why was I awake and why was I so frightened? That’s when I heard someone scratching lightly at the door and calling my name.
Chapter 23
I found the phone that I’d gone to sleep clutching and shot out of bed, already pushing the buttons. The red light was flashing. The batteries were out of juice again.
“Sherri,” a voice whispered on the other side of the door.
“Go away. I’ve got a gun. I’ll shoot,” I screamed at the door as I ran for the kitchen.
“The police are on their way.” I jerked open a drawer, frantic for a weapon.
I found a butcher’s knife and swirled to face the door. I held the knife out in front of me with both hands like some damn martial arts superhero. “I’m armed,” I yelled.
The sound of running footsteps was the only answer. Knife still clutched in my right fist, I shot to the window to see my attacker. Through the light of the one remaining floodlight, Andy Crown sprinted across the parking lot. I dropped the knife and fumbled with the window latch. Sliding the window open, I called, “Andy, come back.”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down. He just disappeared into the shadows of Raintree Avenue.
There was a parking space in front of the stunted shrub that grew at Andy’s door. I listened to the pinging noises of the engine as it cooled. An eerie glow of a TV lit the thin curtains of a window a few down from Andy’s but the rest of the Roach Motel slept.
The sound of the truck door opening, the sound of my runners on the gravel, echoed in the horseshoe enclosure so at first I rapped lightly at the door. “Andy?”
No answer. I pounded just to make sure Andy could hear me. “Andy, it’s Sherri.” The sound ran around the walkway and came back to me. Louder now, “Andy.”
Three doors down a door opened and a man’s head appeared. “Shut the fuck up.” Always a slow learner, I leaned my right ear against Andy’s door to hear if there was any sound from inside. The mountain, posing as a man hitching the backside of his crumpled boxers, stepped out onto the walkway, unhappy that I was still there. I hustled to the truck, waiting for the man to go back inside and watching to see if Andy’s curtains twitched.
The guy waiting for me to go grew tired and started for the truck.
I jumped in and locked the door, sweeping the darkness for any signs of Andy, any movement in the shadows. I searched the rear-view mirror, thinking he might be hiding in the parking lot until he thought it was safe to come out. Nothing.
Marley’s call woke me in the morning sooner than I really wanted to rejoin the world. “Get over here,” she ordered. “I’m cooking.”
In the bright clear sunshine the green monster was looking even more depressing than usual. The cloth ceiling, which had been developing strange pouches of air, had finally let go and now the entire panel hung like a hammock from the visors up front to the edge of the back window. I just walked on by to the pretty red pickup.
Running east-west, Banyan Street is the main street of Jacaranda. Its traffic lanes are separated by a park full of banyan trees and their forest of roots, which hang down from branches to become more trunks, create a secret world. I remember chasing lizards among the smooth gray roots. Native to India, Florida purists think the banyans should be rooted out of the center of our city and replaced with palms. In the meantime, those banyans just keep on growing and three days a week the farmers from off the island bring in produce to sell in the banyans’ shade. The market was going full tilt, so I bought fresh marmalade and a loaf of raisin bread on my way through.
The stucco building Marley lives in was built in the twenties, old by Jacaranda standards. Downstairs there’s a drugstore that’s been there since the beginning and is still run by the same family. All the original fittings, hardwood floors and tin ceilings are still in place. Upstairs there are two apartments with twelve-foot ceilings that overlook the park. A broad alley leads to the open stairs of a balcony along the back of the second floor. I tapped lightly on the lace-covered glass of the door, breathing in the smell of bacon. The door flew open under my knuckles. “What kept you?” Marley demanded.
The demented cat was still doing his thing on the wall. Underneath him the table was set with Fiesta ware in turquoise and orange. Even without a hangover it was a stretch.
“Shouldn’t you be out tracking down bargains?” Friday’s paper lists all the garage sales being held on the weekend, and Friday night Marley sits down and marks them on her map to plan the most efficient route. She starts out at six Saturday morning, when it’s just Juice and the dealers, and hits them all. Everything in the apartment came from a garage sale or flea market someplace, but Marley had now slipped from need into obsession. Now she rents a storage unit to keep things the apartment can’t hold.
“I’m taking a day off” she informed me. “I’ll go tomorrow.”
“Did you make this great sacrifice just so you could cook me breakfast?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. Now tell me what’s happening.”
“Andy’s alive. That’s the good news. The bad news is my apartment got broken into, they took the videotape, and I chased Andy away.”
She set the glass jug of orange juice down hard on the table. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I know how you are when you wake up in the middle of the night.”
“What did they get?”
“Just the tape.”
“And your only clue to what Jimmy was up to.” She pulled out a chair and plopped down. “It really sucks to be you, doesn’t it?”
“Hey!” I held my hands out, palms up. “Where’s the food? I didn’t just come for the chit-chat, you know.”
She popped up and went to the oven for the plate of blueberry pancakes surrounded by bacon and sausage and set them down on little round hotpads that somebody’s grandma crocheted back in the fifties.
“What was on that tape that made it worth breaking into your place?”
“I don’t know,” I said, helping myself to the food.
“It must be important. Why would Jimmy want you to take care of it if it didn’t mean anything and why would someone steal it? That proves it’s important.”
“I have no idea and no answer to any of those questions.”
“You must have some idea.”
“The only part of the tape I really paid any attention to was the part with Jimmy making a fool of himself. I think it was just a test to see if the camera was working. No secret message. And the rest . . .” I lifted my shoulders. “The part of the tape that was important must have been the two guys. Jimmy zoomed in on the license plate but I haven’t any idea why. I barely looked at it. I was waiting for Evan to see it. I was so sure that he’d know what it meant.”
Over breakfast we went around and around the mulberry bush, but I didn’t tell her about Dr. Zampa. Hey, she had to work with the guy. Neither did I tell her about Clay. I don’t know why I kept that back.
By the time Marley reached out and rescued the last piece of bacon from my plate and I claimed her cigarettes none of her questions had been answered I got up to get an extra ashtray from the cupboard. I knew exactly where to find it; unlike me, Marley is extremely neat, everything exactly where it was the last time, all the handles of her pots and pans lined up in the same direction. I guess it went with being a dental hygienist.
“The one thing I remember is the close-up of the license plate of the white SUV. It ended in OFF.” I lit the cigarette and said, “The normal word didn’t come first or that would have stuck with me for sure.”
“Tell me again, who did you tell about this tape?” This was a tougher interview than with Styles. I took a deep breath and began the list. “Evan. Then I told Clay, Peter and Brian. No one else knew. That’s it. None of those four drives a white SUV.” I ticked their vehicles off on my fingers. “Evan has a black Honda, Peter drives a red Porsche, Clay has a white Lexus and Brian an older white caddy. Not an SUV among them. The plate has nothing to do with them.”
“Who?”
“Jimmy. I bet he broke in.”
“I blame most bad things in my life on Jimmy, but this?”
“He left the tape there. He definitely knew about it.” Marley had another question. “Did Jimmy know about the key?”
“No. He would have used it before if he did.”
“Did you tell the cops about the tape, tell them it was missing?”
“I didn’t know it was gone until after they left.”
“Call Styles.”
I shook my head. “He won’t believe me. Without something to show him, he’ll just think I’m trying to confuse things to keep him from arresting me.”
“You’re right.” She jumped up and began clearing the table. One of the reasons she’s so skinny is that she never sits still, a habit that got her into lots of trouble as a kid. “Styles is going to think it’s just one more theory.” She ran hot water in the sink before returning with the coffeepot to fill our cups.
“When I find Andy, I’ll have a copy of the video to show Styles. That’s the only thing I can do.”
She settled back in her chair and picked up her coffee cup, looking at me over the rim, she said, “I think Jimmy blew up the Suncoaster and then came back for that tape.” I let my breath out in a huge sigh. My shoulders sagged. “You’re never going to see him again and no one will ever believe he isn’t dead.”
She had spoken my nightmare and she wasn’t done yet. “Maybe Jimmy changed his mind about leaving the video behind. Maybe there was something on that tape that he didn’t want anyone to see.”
Chapter 24
“Leaving you once again in the lurch and on the hook for disposing of his miserable hide.” She sat the coffee cup down in the saucer with an angry clank. Marley might just be the only person Jimmy ever met who was immune to his charms.
“Surely it would be too dangerous? Someone would be sure to see him.”
“You can’t find Andy and he isn’t even hiding. Maybe Jimmy sent Andy over last night.”
“Possible. Andy must have had a ride to the island but I’ve got Jimmy’s truck.”
“What about Andy’s car? Jimmy still has that.” Marley changed courses. “Who knew about the key?”
“Evan, you . . . but then the cops said the first place burglars look is under the mat. Next they check around any plants.”
She was out the door in a flash. A long row of red geraniums sat in clay pots on the railing just outside the door to Marley’s kitchen. She came back in and slapped down a key covered in soil on the table between us.
“Et tu, Brutus? ”
Her mind was still on the problem of the missing tape. “You’ve got to tell the cops. They’re talking murder, remember?”
“I’m hardly likely to forget that. What can I say? I had evidence but it’s gone . . . trust me on this one?” She heaved a great sigh. “So what now?”
“I have to find Andy. Talk to him. I know he’s got a copy of the video. I’ll take it to the cops and let them figure it out.”
“The cops can find Andy faster than you. Tell them he’s missing.”
“I’m wondering if he’s gone walkabout again.” Off the drugs his life turned into one huge pit of terror. Voices yelling in his head every waking moment, voices telling him people were trying to kill him, buzzing in his head that his friends were really his enemies, whispering all kinds of horrible things until he was no longer able to judge what was real and what wasn’t. God, I was beginning to know what that felt like. I was beginning to see friends as enemies. Maybe fear would soon overwhelm me and I’d just take off like Andy did. No one would see me for weeks. I’d start sleeping in parks and eating out of dumpsters. I gave myself a shake.
Marley pulled on one of her red curls as if she were stretching out a slinky and worried her lip. “What can I do to help?” she asked.
“Call around and see if anyone has seen Andy.”
“Okay. I’ll call everyone. If Andy is anywhere within ten miles someone will see him.”
“Thanks, Juice.”
“Do you want to stay here for a bit? At least until you’re over the fear of who might be waiting for you when you go home.” She nodded in the direction of the living room. “The sofa is still there if you want it. You have a key.”
I shook my head. “Sooner or later I have to go back. And if Andy comes looking for me again, I want to be there.”
“It’s who else might come looking for you that gives me a panic attack.”
“I really wish you hadn’t mentioned that.”
“Ah! Not as dumb as you look, are you?” She got up and started washing the dishes.
“Styles knows about Andy.” I got to my feet and followed her to the sink. “I just hope the police don’t start questioning him about Jimmy.”
Marley gave a big humph sound. “They try talking to him and they’ll commit him for sure.” She ran the water, rinsing the plates.
“It isn’t against the law to be crazy. He has to be a threat to himself or others.”
“I know. And I know Andy wouldn’t blow up Jimmy’s boat. But you can’t judge a nut by its shell. The cops are only going to see he’s psychotic and think dangerous. That might be a good thing, Sherri. At least he’d get treatment. Besides, right now it’s either you or Andy.”
I picked up a tea towel and started drying the dishes she was rattling into the rack at record speed. “Or Tony Rollins. Or Dr. Zampa.”
“Let me see,” she said, putting a forefinger coyly against her cheek. “Whom will they be more likely to pick to blow up a boat? A fine upstanding dentist, elder in his church and a member of Rotary, or the angry violent wife who works in a bar and shovels shit by the bucket full?”
“True, I’d rather kick ass than kiss it, but wouldn’t you?”
“Depends on the ass.”
“You are a truly wicked and perverted woman, Miss Hemming.”
“That explains me. What explains you?”
“Stupidity.”
“I’ll buy that. You still aren’t seeing how much trouble you’re in.” Both hands in the sink, she turned to me and said, “Get a lawyer and forget about everything else. Andy isn’t your responsibility. You can’t worry about him right now.”
“He has a copy of the tape. The only thing which might actually save my ass.”
“Okay, good point. But still you aren’t responsible for him.”
I kept quiet. I knew better than to argue with Juice. I went back to the table and picked up her cigarettes while she drained the sink and wiped it down. “Maybe we should try and figure out who was on the boat,” she said. “You try. I’m calling Andy again.”
After about twenty rings I gave up and punched in Ruth Ann’s number. Guilt. Fortunately she wasn’t home either so I left her a message telling her that I was doing just fine but I couldn’t make it today.
“When are you going to get a cell phone like the rest of the world?” Marley asked as I hung up.
“Never. I hate them more than I hate that damn blinking light on my answering machine. I get too many calls now. Just think how much more miserable I’d be if people could actually get me?”
“You’re the most anti-social social person in the world.”
“I have a busy inner life. I just want the world to leave me alone.”
She humphed at me. “What are you going to do the rest of the day?”
“Work. But first I want to cruise around out at Windimere. I still think all this has something to do with Windimere. And Tony Rollins is at the head of my psycho list. He was definitely scaring the shit out of me”
“It takes a lot to scare you. If he gets your notice there is definitely something to pay attention to. I’ll come with you.” “And miss another adventure in garage sales?” She dumped her cigarettes into her purse. “See what a swell perso
n I am?”
“And we can keep an eye out for Andy.” I jogged down the stairs, waiting for her at the bottom as she locked the door and checked it twice. “I bet he’s taken to the streets again, moving from place to place so the CIA can’t find him.” “So far it seems to be working.”
“There’s one place I haven’t looked for Andy,” I told her as we came out the alley to the street. “A coalition of Southern Baptist churches runs a soup kitchen from a strip mall just off Tamiami Trail. It isn’t far from Hess Street—within walking distance.” We waited for a break in traffic and ran across the street. “Reverend Halliday might know where he is.”
Chapter 25
David Halliday was closing the lid of a battered old upright when we came through the door of the Baptist food mission. The breakfast hour was long past and the utilitarian room was empty of people.
“Sherri,” David sang when he saw me. This came with a big welcoming smile and an open-arm gesture. “Just the person I wanted to see.” The widow peaks of his sand-colored hair were melting back to meet a small bald spot on the back of his head. Even his mother would admit he was short and a little pudgy, but his delight in the world made him one of the most attractive men I knew.
I smiled in response to his warmth. After the world beat you up, here was someone who made it better.
“I haven’t seen you since Christmas. Let me buy you lovely ladies a cup of coffee.” David put three white mugs on a tray and filled them from a gleaming urn. Then he carried the coffee to the nearest plywood table.
I introduced him to Marley and watched them checking each other out real close. Sparks were going off like a short in an electrical wire. Go figure.
“I’m looking for Andy,” I told him. “Have you seen him?” I asked as I pulled out a molded turquoise chair from the table.
He tore his eyes away from Marley and canted his head to the right while he thought for a moment. “Earlier in the week. He was really agitated. Only stayed for about ten minutes. He’s off his medication again.”