“But I knew you liked it and I wanted you to have it. It’ll look great in our living room. I measured the wall space beside the bookcase. I knew it would fit. You have a birthday coming up in March and I wanted to surprise you with that painting as a birthday gift.”
Rex began talking faster and faster, and Janell stopped toe tapping.
“The artist’s from up in the islands—Big Pine Key. I went back to talk to her later on the day of the art show. She said she displays her work at the co-op gallery in the Winn Dixie plaza.”
“So you drove there on Friday afternoon while I was busy volunteering at West Martello.”
“Right, Janell. I did. But the painting was gone. The artist gave me the name of the buyer—a woman in Marathon. I drove there, thinking maybe I could talk her out of the painting—buy it from her.”
“So did you?” I asked.
“No such luck. The woman wasn’t home. Nobody answered my knock. I was going to try again later, phone first the next time, but…there’s been no time.”
“So you drove home without the painting,” Janell said.
“Right. And without an alibi I was willing to give the police while you sat there listening. It would have spoiled my surprise. I still had hope of talking to the woman in Marathon and buying the painting from her. I thought I could tell the police my true alibi later when you weren’t around and that nothing more would be said about it—at least not to you.”
She gave Rex a hug. “But it didn’t work out that way. I appreciate your effort to surprise me on my birthday, and I’m sorry it backfired.”
“Right. It’s caused me grief and it may cause more. Although the police had said that the initial questioning was informal, I began feeling the seriousness of my statement when a detective announced they’d found blood on my boat. I knew then I was in for another questioning—a Miranda-warning-type questioning.”
“Rex! I think we need a lawyer.”
“You may be right, but it’s too late for that now. Without being asked, I went to the station privately and without a lawyer and gave the police chief my true alibi, expecting them to believe it.”
“They didn’t believe you?” Janell asked. “The people at the Big Pine gallery would corroborate your story, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes. The police checked with them and they vouched for me. The volunteer on duty even said I spent an hour in the museum looking at other paintings I thought you might like.”
“So why did the police call you in this morning?”
“They wanted to hear me tell my story again—wanted to see if I’d change it in any way or if I’d stick to it.”
“And you stuck to it, I hope,” Janell said.
“Right. The police were satisfied and they gave me permission to clean up my boat. They also told me, warned me, that they had ordered DNA testing on the blood on the boat to see if it matched Abra Barrie’s DNA.”
Chapter 7
“Hola, amigos! Hola! The swinging door between the house and the patio café opened with a whoosh. A plump woman with a braided crown of bottle-black hair anchored to the top of her head by tortoise-shell pins distracted us from Rex’s DNA announcement.
“Mama Gomez is here!” The woman stepped into the cafe and plunked a willow basket onto the snack bar near the refrigerator as if it might contain the gold of Pizarro. “Tasting time. Gustoso! Bueno!”
Janell smiled and stepped toward the woman who’d been spouting orders. “Good morning, Mama G.”
“Morning?” The woman snorted and tapped her wristwatch with a fat forefinger. “Es mediodia!”
“Mama G,” Janell smiled. “Please let me introduce you to my sister, Kitt Morgan.” I looked down at Mama G whose crowning glory reached barely to my chin, ready to exchange greetings.
“Hola, Kitt!” Mama G looked up at me, but gave me no time to respond. “Bienvenida! You’re in for a treat today. And Janell, your customers are in for a treat tonight. I’ve made two of my specials. The C&C and the E&F. Now you will taste both kinds. Bring me some galletas.”
I guessed the word ‘please’ wasn’t in this woman’s vocabulary. It didn’t surprise me that Janell hurried to the kitchen and returned with a plate of crackers. I supposed from Mama G’s tone and her body language that in dealing with her, Janell needed to save her refusals for more important occasions.
“Here, here, amigos. Come.” Mama G opened her basket with a flourish to reveal two plastic-covered bowls. “You’ll be tasting the C&C first. And I expect compliments.” By now her Cuban lingo had diminished. She opened the first bowl of a coarse pinkish paste.
“C&C?” I hung back, refusing to let Senora Boss Lady order my life as she seemed so intent on doing.
“Conch and Capers.” Mama G lifted a knife from her basket and spread a generous amount of sandwich filling onto three crackers. She paused, then fixed a third cracker and then a fourth as Hella and Phud stepped onto the patio. “Welcome one, welcome all.”
Mama G turned to me. “As you can see, people come from all directions to taste my creations of the day. Attencion now! Line up, please.”
I couldn’t believe everyone was obeying this loud-mouth as if she were a theater master and they were puppets on a string. I stood in line with the others, and we sampled the conch and caper spread.
“Wonderful!” everyone exclaimed, more or less in unison. I wanted to say ‘turdy and terrible.’ Those words slipped into my thinking vocabulary now and then, but never into my verbal vocabulary. I said nothing.
“And you, Kitt Morgan?” Mama G glared at me. “What do you think of my sandwich filling?”
Not wanting to embarrass Janell, I rose to the occasion with a very dingy white lie. “It’s wonderful, Mama G. Delicious.”
“Mama Gomez to you is my name.” The woman lifted her chin and scowled. “One must earn the right to call me Mama G.”
“Mama Gomez.” I stood corrected, wondering how one ‘earned the right.’
“And now the E&F.” Mama G opened the second bowl and spread a dark mixture onto the crackers.
“What’s in it, Mama G?” Rex asked. “Tell all if you expect me to taste. Never seen this one before.”
“Correct. I’ve never honored you with this specialty before. Is a secret recipe from Tia Louisa, my great-great-aunt who resides in Havana.” She thrust the plate of crackers toward Rex.
“I asked you what’s in it?” By cocking his head and refusing to lift a hand toward the plate, Rex called her bluff.
“It’s a special mixture of escargot and feta cheese.”
“Count me out.” Rex shook his head and backed away from the rest of us. “Not my thing.”
“I’ll try it.” Phud reached for a sample then passed the plate to Hella, who shook her head and eased closer to Rex. I waited for an explosion from Mama G, but Voodoo saved us all, jumping from Hella’s tote where he’d been hiding, knocking the crackers to the floor, and snarfing them down as if they were the last supper.
“I’m sorry, Mama G,” Janell said. “I’m sure tonight’s guests will enjoy your treat. I’ll refrigerate the bowls, and Kitt will help me make the sandwiches for this evening.”
Mama G drew herself to her full height and, in turn, glared at each one of us. “Another scene like this, and it’s adios. I won’t be upstaged by a cat.” She flounced from the patio and stomped through the garden toward a rusty Chevy parked out front in the tow-away zone. I doubted she’d ever been towed. What cop would have had the nerve!
“Janell, how do you and Rex tolerate that woman?” I asked. “Where does she get the intestinal fortitude to come on so strong?”
Janell laughed. “When you know her better, you’ll find she’s an interesting person, Kitt. Proud of her sandwich mixes. You’ll get used to her. She thrives on attention. She claims her mama stitched secret family recipes into the hem of her dress in order to smuggle them out of Cuba when Castro took over. Her parents sent her as a child from their home in Havana to a Miami orphanage.
”
“They abandoned her?” I asked.
“No, she wasn’t an abandoned child,” Rex said. “She’ll be more than willing to tell you all about the 1959 Pedro Pan airlift for kids. Parents didn’t like what Castro was doing to the Cuban school system. If I were you, I wouldn’t ask. She’ll talk your ear off. And I wouldn’t eat any of her escargot and feta cheese, either.”
“She’ll calm down by tonight,” Janell said. “She’s good on the piano, and she sings along on some numbers.”
“And she sings, too?” I corked my envy.
“Yes, she sings,” Rex said. “But forget about her calming down. Tonight she’ll vent her orders on Teach and Ace. They pretend to obey her. Or at least, they figure out ways to ignore her orders.”
“I’m checking out for today, Janell,” Phud said. “Put a large box of coconuts out front ready for pickup.”
“Thanks, Phud. I appreciate.”
“I’ll drop around tonight,” Hella promised as she headed back toward the B&B. “Want to see if bad publicity attracts or repels.”
“A true psychic and clairvoyant would know the answer to that beforehand.” Phud tossed Hella a superior glance.
“My work speaks for itself.” Hella straightened her shoulders, letting her baleful glance speak for itself.
“When does your snack bar open?” I asked, wondering if the relationship between Hella and Phud was a stormy one. “I’m ready to make sandwiches any time you are.”
“We open at six,” Janell said. “That’s about the time lots of people begin passing to and from the sunset celebration on Mallory. We advertise as a family café. Parents want and need a soda bar for minors where their kids can have fun without risking an encounter with alcohol—or drugs”
“We’re zoned for business,” Rex said, “and we close at ten. Neighbors don’t complain about late-night noise. We usually do a good business.”
“In spite of Mama Gomez and her conch and capers sandwiches—escargot and feta?” I asked.
Janell grinned. “Right. Many parent s enjoy taste adventures. I keep plenty of pimento cheese and peanut butter and jelly on hand for the kids if they want it.”
“Key West’s an island of history and mystery,” Rex said. “Mama G’s sandwich fillings fit right in.”
“So, shall we make sandwiches now?” I asked.
“Later, Kitt. Right now I need to go to Fausto’s for fresh bread. Want to come along?”
“Sure. I’ve been waiting for a chance to drive around the island. How about taking my car?”
“Fine with me,” Janell said. “Rex, you need anything from the store?”
“No, but thanks. I’ve got plenty right here to keep me busy for an hour or so. Then I’ll go to the marina and start cleaning up my boat.” Rex turned to the roll of plastic he’d been working with, then looked up again. “On second thought, you might pick up a jar of dill relish at Fausto’s. I’ll grill some grouper for supper. Give Kitt a taste of the best fish in the Keys.”
“Will do.” Janell turned to me. “Grouper. It’s a favorite around here, and Rex does a great job of grilling it, but first let’s freshen up inside and have a bite of lunch.”
“Rex, could I help you work on your boat?” I hoped he’d say yes. I wanted to see the boat exactly as the police had seen it. “Two people working together could get the job done faster than one person working alone.”
“Thanks, Kitt, but it’s a job I need to do alone. No task for any woman. I’m not looking forward to it, but I’ll get it behind me today.”
“Come on, Kitt. I’ll bring out a salad for Rex.”
So much had happened this morning that I’d forgotten about lunch. When we left the café and started into the kitchen, Phud was standing near the carport looking at my car. I joined him, and Janell went on inside.
“Ever seen a Prius before?” I asked.
“Yes,” Phud said. “I’ve even been thinking of buying one—expensive though they may be. I like the idea of an electric motor combined with a gasoline engine. You enjoying this model?”
“Very much. Less pollution and better mileage.” I enjoyed telling people about the car, pointing out some of its special hybrid features. But when I ran out of facts and turned to face Phud again, he was studying me, not the car. I shifted from one foot to the other, then looked away.
“A beautiful car for a beautiful woman, Kitt. Any chance of you taking me for a ride some day?”
My face flushed at his compliment, and I stooped to pick a twig from the front tire, giving myself a few moments of thinking time before answering him. “Sure, Phud. Janell and Rex haven’t had time to ride it in yet, so maybe we all can go out for a spin around the island soon.”
“Wonderful,” Phud said. “I’ll look forward to it.” He tweaked a broken poinsettia leaf from a nearby plant.
“What a garden full of brilliant blossoms!” I watched as he tossed the broken leaf into a trash basket.
Phud laughed. “I’m guessing you think the showy red leaves are the plant’s blossoms.”
“Sure,” I said. “They are, aren’t they?”
“Take a closer look.” Phud touched a tiny while flower on a nearby plant. “These are the poinsettia flowers. The red leaves are just that—leaves.”
“Oh.” My face flushed again.
“Lots of people don’t know that. Guess it doesn’t make a lot of difference, though. All parts of the plant are beautiful.”
“Right.” I started toward the back door.
“See you tomorrow.” Phud winked and walked toward the street and I gazed after him. This time I was sure he had winked. It had been a long time since anyone had winked at me—and called me beautiful. Certainly not Shelby Cox. But I was through with Shelby Cox and I was certainly in no mood to be thinking about a new boyfriend. Any minute the phone might ring, telling me I’d killed a man.
“Let’s have a salad, Kitt,” Janell said when I stepped into the house. “Not a good plan to skip meals, but with so much going on around here lately, it’s been easy to do.”
We enjoyed a simple lettuce, tomato, and avocado salad and a piece of toast before we got into my car and headed out. Easing into the traffic on Whitehead Street, we soon passed the wrought iron presidential gates near Truman’s Little White House. “We have time to scoop a loop or two?”
“Sure, Kitt. Enjoy while you can. The rest of this day will be crammed with have-to-dos, and tomorrow I want the two of us to start some careful thinking about Abra’s Barrie’s death and about who might have killed her. I hope we can provide the police with airtight alibis for our friends working at The Poinsettia.”
“Right. I’m sure that’s uppermost in your mind.” It would have been uppermost in my mind too, if it hadn’t been for the perp hovering between life and death in Iowa. I turned to drive by Mallory Square where an island boy with corn-row braids sang a calypso melody to his beat on a set of steel drums.
“Day-o-day-o.” His soft singing and beguiling smile had many girls stopping to listen. Even older women and men gave him their rapt attention. Others milled about, patronizing vendors and kiosks. I wondered if any of the coconut shell masks on display had come from Janell’s trees.
“In spite of our lunch, my mouth’s watering at the fragrance of those hotdogs grilling at a lunch stand.”
“Want to stop for one?” Janell asked.
“No, we better get on with our errands.” I hung a left and felt the Prius thump onto a narrow bricked street next to the square. Stopping behind a white Bone Island Shuttle loading passengers, I peered into the shell warehouse on our right. The pungent odor of dried sea shells wafted from the building and the wide-planked flooring begged us to enter.
“Remember when you took me in there to buy shells to string on fishing line to create a necklace? And look, Janell. I think that’s still the same exhibit of conch shells and sponges out front.”
“You may be right. Some things stay the same. It’s people who change, peopl
e who suddenly become murder suspects.”
A woman stood laughing and posing beside the life-size sculpture of a fisherman. The bus driver waited until her companion snapped a picture and they boarded the shuttle. Traffic inched forward.
On Duval, we slowed in front of Sloppy Joe’s bar. The blare from the rock band inside floated in the air along with the scent of shrimp steamed in beer. The amplified guitars drowned out the bells pealing from St. Paul’s Episcopal, a few blocks away. A Conch Train rumbled along ahead of us and I followed.
“Can you get around it?” Janell leaned forward.
“No room to pass. Too many mo-peds. And how about that horse-drawn cart!”
I could tell Janell wasn’t enjoying the loop scooping, so at the first chance, I headed toward Fleming Street and Fausto’s. Luckily, we found a parking slot close to the door. Once inside, I shivered, remembering Fausto’s had the coldest air-conditioning on the island.
Janell made fast work of the grocery shopping and I welcomed the warmth of the January sunshine as we returned to the car and headed home. Rex was nowhere in sight and I guessed he’d gone to the marina. We toted groceries from car to house and once they were put away, Janell began making sandwiches.
“Kitt, you go on upstairs and rest or you’ll be too tired to enjoy the activities later. I’ll only make and wrap a few sandwiches right now. I can make more as we need them tonight—if we need them.”
I felt guilty leaving Janell to make the sandwiches, but all my travel along with the change of climate took its toll. I felt ready to rest. Once I stretched out on my bed I fell asleep, awaking only when I heard an eerie moaning outside my window.
Chapter 8
Slipping quickly into the clothes I’d removed before my nap, I rushed to look out the window. Although it was only a little after five o’clock, the sun hung low in the sky. Seeing nothing unusual below, I ran downstairs to the kitchen, feeling sure someone lay injured. Janell stood calmly loading the dishwasher while Rex handed her plates from the table.
Killer in Control Page 6
