by Kait Carson
“Don’t know, Pennington, Pen something. Why?”
“Penmartin?”
“Yes. That’s it.” Hayden came around and looked over Mallory’s shoulder. “She lives next door to Richard. Looks like the corner lot with water on two sides. Great location. What’s the year on that plat? Your hand is covering it up.”
“It’s current. Do you want me to pull the deeds?”
Chewing the inside of her lip, Hayden tried to think why it would matter. If this Samantha character lived next door to the Anderson property all her life, who cared? Kevin hadn’t grown up there, so he said. Then again, why lie? Could she be the mysterious roommate? What did it matter if she knew the Andersons?
“No, I guess it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about Kevin.”
“Hayd, why don’t you stay with me for a while? Tiger’s welcome too, of course.”
Hayden hugged her friend. “Thanks. I would love to, except I don’t want to drag you into this. And, this is going to sound stupid: I would feel as if I were cheating. I guess I don’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking I’m on the run.”
Mallory wrinkled her brow. “On the run? I don’t understand, what do you mean?”
Hayden grabbed her friend’s arm and led her over to a secluded table. She couldn’t believe Mallory didn’t know the police suspected her of murdering Richard. She’d thought her problems were universal knowledge. She didn’t know if she was relieved or upset to be wrong. “What did the papers say about me?”
“That you found a body. Richard Anderson’s body. You’d broken up with his brother recently. There’s some innuendo but that’s about it.”
Hayden threw her head back and started laughing. “I’m sorry, Mallory,” Hayden sputtered when she could talk again. “The cops seem to think I killed Richard. No one else but me. At least the last time I found a body…”
Mallory raised an eyebrow. “That was eons ago. The poor woman in the crate on the side of the Turnpike. God, I’d nearly forgotten about that. Nobody can think that has anything to do with this.”
“No, but this feels different. Back then, they didn’t consider me a suspect past the first five minutes. This time, they think I killed Richard.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because Kevin dumped me, and Richard was supposed to pick his stuff up for him. Because Richard was going to sell me his boat. Because I was at Falkner Marina on the night he died.”
Mallory’s eyes widened and the color drained from her face. “Why were you at the marina?”
“Damned if I know. I had a migraine. I woke up there.”
“You don’t remember…”
“Anything,” Hayden finished for her.
Mallory and Hayden locked eyes as the sounds of a struggle in the lobby filled their ears. Hayden thought one of the voices sounded like Janice Kirby. “Oh no,” she whispered half under her breath. “Mallory, please, feed Tiger Cat for me.”
Hayden saw the confusion cross Mallory’s face but was relieved when she nodded her head in agreement. “Of course, Hayden...but why? What’s going on?”
“That’s the FWC cop who came out when I found the body. I guess she’s here for me.” Hayden was embarrassed to taste a tear as it touched her lips. She hadn’t realized she was crying.
A screaming blonde-haired woman burst into the room followed closely by Janice Kirby.
Sixteen
The two friends watched in horror as the officer raised her hand. The blonde-haired woman pulled out of her grasp and continued racing through the media room to the information desk. Hayden scrubbed her damp palms against her thighs. The scene unfolding in the Recorder’s Office added more melodrama to her fears than she thought possible.
The slash pine walls of the old building absorbed the sound rather than reflecting it back into the room the way modern wallboard did. Hayden looked up and saw the old roughhewn trusses overhead. Even if it does harbor scorpions, the old-style conch construction had its good points.
Mallory grabbed Hayden’s arm. “Come on,” she hissed, “let’s get out of the line of fire. I don’t know what this is all about, but it ain’t about you.”
Hayden felt torn. She didn’t know whether she should go, stay, or try to talk to the officer. As she watched, other people in the media room picked up their belongings and either left or faded deeper into the stacks that lined the room.
Janice continued chasing after the blonde. She hadn’t reached for her gun. Hayden wondered if this was a nod to public safety or because she didn’t feel threatened.
The blonde stopped at the information desk. “I’m Elena Anderson,” she sobbed to the elderly woman in a flowered dress behind the counter. “I need to know if I own my house. I got this letter from my in-laws today. I lost my husband, then I got this letter, please, you have to—” The blonde woman crumpled and slid down the desk towards the floor.
Janice Kirby grabbed the Anderson woman before she hit her head on the pine wood of the information desk. The information officer, her eyes the size of saucers, opened and closed her mouth like a beached grouper. Not a sound emerged. For a brief moment, Hayden feared the woman would join Elena in a faint.
The two friends looked at each other. “Elena Anderson, Richard’s wife,” Mallory leaned close and whispered to Hayden.
“What’s she doing with the officer, I wonder?” Hayden resolved to speak with Kirby and find out why she’d tracked Richard’s wife. Did the police consider her a suspect too? Or maybe Kirby delivered the letter. But why use a marine officer? Why not a delivery service or process server if it was that kind of letter? “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Kirby spoke to the woman behind the counter. “My sister is upset. She lost her husband recently. And she’s pregnant. And now she’s afraid she might lose her house.”
The news that Richard’s wife was expecting hit Hayden like a punch. Here she’d been wondering about her being a suspect. But the last thing Hayden wanted was a scene with a grieving pregnant widow.
Janice turned from the counter, bearing the weight of her sister. She seemed to scan the room. Hayden couldn’t help herself. She got up. She’d always been willing to help people. She couldn’t do any less now. Coming alongside the officer, she took half the burden from her shoulder. “Let me help, there’s a bench over there.”
The woman behind the counter got ahold of herself. “Wait, I’ll get some water. There’s a couch in the break room. Do you think you can get her in there?”
Janice and Hayden followed the older woman past the desk and through a door marked “Employees Only.” The couch was located under a shut tight window. The unit air conditioner whined, protesting the humidity in the air it tried to cool. Like many old Florida rooms, this one held the scent of salt. Hayden noticed there was a refrigerator and water cooler standing in the corner. She went over and filled a cup. Since Elena had not regained consciousness, she offered the cup to Janice.
Hayden saw recognition dawn as the officer took the water.
“You’ve been having a rough week, too.” She smiled. “Lousy luck that you found the body. I don’t know what Monroe County is thinking. You were dating his brother, weren’t you?”
Instead of answering, Hayden occupied herself by looking down at Elena half folded on the couch.
A look of concern crossed the police officer’s face. Behind her, the receptionist bounced up and down on her toes hoping for a better view. “Help me get her in a more comfortable position.” Janice dipped a paper towel in the cold water and began to stroke her sister’s forehead.
Then Janice pulled out the brick shaped radio from its holster on her belt. She keyed it, requested medical assistance, and explained the situation, omitting her relationship to the victim. In the moment it took to speak to the dispatcher, Janice see
med to become a professional again.
“Look in there.” She gestured to a bathroom with her chin. “See if they have a first aid kit. If they do, bring me the ammonia caps.”
Mallory came in carrying the first aid kit. “The lady from the information desk got this. They keep it under the desk. Will something in here help?”
Hayden took the pouch, unzipped it and rummaged through, looking for the requested caps. They were in the very bottom. She handed an envelope to Janice, who ripped it open with her teeth and grasped the small capsule inside. An acrid smell filled the humid room as the welcome sound of sirens approached. Waving the broken capsule under her sister’s nose, she was rewarded with a grimace.
Elena’s eyes opened. “What happened? Where...No.” She shot bolt upright. “I want to find out, Janice. You are my sister, and you are a cop. Why aren’t you helping me?” Janice opened her mouth at the same time the paramedics rushed in.
Seventeen
Hayden chewed her lip and watched the paramedics load Elena into the ambulance. Janice slid into her patrol car and followed the vehicle in the direction of Fisherman’s Hospital. So Elena was Janice’s sister. This whole affair was becoming incestuous. First she finds out Kevin’s brother lives in the Keys, then she discovers Kevin’s parents are clients. Now it turns out the cop who interviewed her when she found the body is sister to Richard’s wife. She shook her head. Grant had mentioned the relationship, but it didn’t register until now.
Hayden walked back into the Recording Office. Lost in thought, she went to the media room and sat down next to Mallory. Hayden had a love/hate relationship with the police for as long as she could remember. When her parents were struck head on while crossing the Seven Mile Bridge, the cops took so long to get there that her parents died. Then as a paralegal, she interacted frequently with law enforcement. Gradually she’d developed a grudging respect for the boys in blue, or whatever color their uniforms were by agency. Her experiences finding dead bodies, first on the Turnpike and now on the Humboldt, were good and bad. They had been solicitous about the Turnpike body and suspicious of the Humboldt one.
Drumming her fingers on the table, she let out a hiss. “Mallory, I’m a paralegal and a diver. I am a trained researcher. I interview clients frequently. I swear Janice had no idea why I’m a suspect. If she did, she’s a great actress, and she wasn’t in a position to act.”
“I wondered about that. Are you so sure you’re a suspect?”
Hayden glanced around the room and suddenly felt like she was in that old Paine Webber commercial. Everyone seemed to be leaning in to hear her conversation.
“Let’s get out of here. I’ll tell you all about it over some food.”
Hayden brought her friend up to date while the two ate fish sandwiches on the deck of The Galley. The restaurant’s location, overlooking a lagoon that led ultimately to the ocean, was the perfect cover. As usual, the locals ate at the bar and the tourists took the outside tables. Hayden turned her face up to let the sun warm her cheeks. “I want to be under water.” She sighed and finished off the last bite.
“Not after that lunch,” Mallory said. “But Hayd, I do have a criminal practice. It used to be traffic tickets and Ed did occasional manslaughter and homicide. But that’s changed. He’s partnered with his brother in Key West. Our practice is mostly criminal.”
Tilting her head and shielding her eyes from the water glare, Hayden looked at her friend. “Are you suggesting I employ Ed?”
“No, I am suggesting you listen to me. I don’t think you’re gonna need a lawyer, not unless you did it. Whoa.” Mallory put up her hand to catch Hayden’s. “I don’t think you did. I’m positive you didn’t. You’re a victim, same as the dead guy, and you’re not thinking like the professional you are. Listen to me for a minute. Take a deep breath, sit back, and remember your criminal training. You’ll know what I’m saying.”
“Can you take the day off?”
“Nope, got a deposition with Ed I have to be at today at three, but you don’t need me. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Mallory took a deep breath. “I’m sweating to death out here in tourist land. If you’re not going back to work today, let’s go to my office and talk for a little while.”
Nodding her agreement, Hayden dropped some money on the table, secured it under the ketchup bottle and followed Mallory out past the bar to the parking lot. This time when she passed the bar, a hush fell over the group.
Looking around at people she’d known most of her life, many she dove with, some she taught to dive, she understood the power and speed of gossip in a small town on a tiny island. “Coconut Telegraph,” as Jimmy Buffet had called it in a song about the Caribbean. Maybe here in Marathon it should be the “Cocoplum Telegraph.” She smiled broadly and greeted each person seated at the bar by name. Never, she thought, let them see a weakness. They’re sharks. They’re schooling now and they’ll attack if they get the chance.
Mallory waited in the parking lot alongside her car for Hayden to leave the restaurant. “What took so long?”
“I wanted to say hi to some old friends. Didn’t you hear the silence when I came into the room?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t make the connection. Sorry.” Mallory hugged her friend.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hayden caught sight of a car pulling on to Cocoplum Road. She spun and tried to see the driver more clearly.
“Hayd?”
“I think that’s the Coast Guard guy who was at the Humboldt. I told you we dove together. Do you think he told the crew in the restaurant? He probably saw us on the deck. We couldn’t see him because they had the sliders closed and the glare was too bad. Damn. He had his own story to tell. Why serve me up for the afternoon entertainment?”
“Don’t sweat it,” Mallory responded as she wiped perspiration from her forehead. “Let’s get out of here before I melt. I envy you, skinny. You never seem to feel the heat. Or if you do, you don’t show it.”
Hayden laughed at her friend and got into her car. Rolling down the window she leaned out and said, “Oh, I feel it, all right, but I’m a native, remember.”
Mallory weighed a good ten pounds less than she did, although Hayden was in better shape from the constant swimming. Still, Mallory called her skinny from the first day they met.
The drive to Mallory’s office put Hayden in a better mood. It was hard to stay down when you lived in one of the most beautiful places on earth. She popped in a CD and sang along at the top of her lungs. Her Tahoe was high enough that she could see over the bridge railings. As she crossed Vaca Cut, a dive boat, identified by the distinctive red and white flag painted on the top of the cabin, passed beneath the bridge. She wished she were on it. Off in the distance she saw boats on the turquoise waters. Yep, it was a beautiful day in paradise.
Pulling into the Victorian house that served as Mallory’s office, she found a parking space in the rear of the building. She entered by the back door directly into a coffee/break room. From there she crossed the hall to Mallory’s personal office, grateful Mallory had unlocked the rear door for her. She didn’t have to go through the reception area or pass the offices of any of the attorneys. The fewer questions she had to answer, the better.
Looking around Mallory’s office, Hayden noted how cleverly she had put her stamp on the space. She was lucky the double hung windows overlooked a back porch. At one time, there had been French doors leading to the porch, but a break-in a few years ago caused the attorneys to remove the access. Colorful tin sculptures hung on the walls and mermaids and fish were interspersed with the statute books on the shelves. Several personal photos, including one of Mallory and Hayden on a dive cruise, stood on the desk and end tables. She’d even put a colorful rag rug down.
“You look better already. What happened?” Mallory asked.
“The drive. I do love it here. I try always to
be grateful I live here and that I have a house to live in. The insurance may kill me annually but the rent would kill me monthly. I’m lucky. And I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Good girl. What would you be doing for a client?”
Hayden grabbed a legal pad and pen from Mallory’s desk. “Reports. I’d be getting incident reports.”
“See, you know this stuff. I know it’s different when you’re involved personally, but try to separate yourself. Try to think of yourself as a client. Go to Monroe County, the Coast Guard, and the marine patrol, get the reports. It’s public record. Get the autopsy report and the toxicology screen. This is basic. You know that.” Mallory paused and pushed herself back in her chair. “Or do you already have them?”
Hayden felt her cheeks begin to burn. “No. I never even thought of it until now. I was in too much shock. I mean, I never figured I’d be a suspect.”
“That’s understandable.” Mallory paused for a beat. “I’m asking you again, are you sure you are a suspect?”
Hayden dropped her gaze to the rug and studied it. “It sure feels that way.” Tapping the pen against the pad, tears bit the back of her eyes. She looked up at her friend and met her steady gaze. “I’ve been having a big, long, pity party, haven’t I?”
“It’s okay, Hayden. You’re entitled,” Mallory said so softly the words were nearly a whisper.
“Next time, I’ll send out invitations. Thank you, Mallory. Thank you for everything, but most of all, thank you for giving me balance and perspective.”
Mallory rolled her eyes. “Let’s stay on point. It looks like Monroe Sheriff’s is catching the case, not the marine patrol. Eventually the Sheriff’s office will get all the information. First it has to go through God knows how many hands. What ends up in the final report is not always the same thing that’s in the incident reports. We’ve won cases on that. Get the reports. Here.” Mallory opened her drawer and grabbed a pocket recorder and a fresh tape. “Talk to yourself.”
