I drove on a ways in heavy traffic, then had to wait a long time before I could make a left turn, but we soon arrived at the Garden Club. We left the Prius in a visitor’s slot near the palm-shaded entry to the grounds and walked through a gateway. Inside the clubhouse, the scent of moist earth and rotting vegetation clung to the silence. We approached a slim, svelte woman with slightly graying hair. She sat behind a wicker table wearing a volunteer badge, and when she stood to greet us, her caftan flowed in the slight breeze wafting into the garden. A variety of brochures lay fanned out on the table next to a vase of blood red hibiscus blossoms.
“The Garden Club welcomes you.” The receptionist smiled and offered us an informational brochure. “Feel free to wander wherever you please, ladies. We have 126 indigenous plants and trees on our grounds and if you have questions, I’ll be glad to try to answer them.”
“Is there a charge?” I asked.
“No charge, but we do accept contributions.” She smiled and nodded toward a box sitting beside the hibiscus.
I opened my purse and dropped a bill into the slotted box while Janell cut right to the point of our visit.
“We’re interested in the lecture presented here last Friday, a luncheon meeting where Dr. Whitney Ashby spoke to your members.”
“Oh, yes. Dr. Ashby. A charming gentleman. So relaxed and at ease. No public speaking jitters for that man! He could have convinced me he’d been born wearing a white shirt and a silk business suit. And that jaunty little tam! He enchanted the ladies with his manner as well as with his speech.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled and I could imagine the Garden Club ladies hanging onto Phud’s every word. She searched among some papers in a notebook and held a program toward us. “This was our luncheon program.”
“Dr. Ashby spoke on the care and feeding of nephenthes, flesh-eating plants, and how one could use them to the best advantage both indoors and out. Here—I still have a picture of one.” She pulled out a glossy print of a plant with 2 saber-toothed fangs that guarded a small pitcher-like cavity filled with fluid. “Acid in that tiny bowl kills any insect the plant lures into it. Dr. Ashby demonstrated using a cockroach. It struggled and was barely clinging to life by the time the luncheon ended.”
I tried not to imagine the luncheon ladies watch the struggling roach as they ate their salad and dessert.
“But even carnivorous plants fall prey to insects,” the receptionist said. “I’m trying the doctor’s tobacco and soapy water pesticide solution, but it’s too soon to tell whether it will be effective.” She gave a slight shudder. “Of course, I don’t feature carnivorous plants in my garden.”
“What time did your luncheon begin?” she asked.
“Oh, we always begin promptly at noon,” she said. “Some of our members have to be back at their office desks by one o’clock.”
“Did Dr. Ashby stay until one o’clock?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. He finished speaking a little ahead of schedule, but he remained until almost two o’clock to talk to a few housewives who didn’t have to hurry away. Everyone was gone by two o’clock. Would you ladies care to look around outside?”
“Thank you, but another day,” Janell said. “We’ll try to stop by again when we have more time.”
She handed us more brochures and walked with us to the exit. We thanked her for her hospitality as we left, and then once in the Prius, I sighed.
“So he could have left Marathon around two. He could have reached Key West only a bit before three—if traffic was light. But it would have been three-thirty before he changed into his butcher’s costume and drove to the marina. Surely he didn’t report for that grim duty wearing his business suit.”
“I don’t believe he could have nabbed the unsuspecting Abra Barrie, forced her into Rex’s boat, and taken her to his killing grounds by mid-afternoon,” Janell said. “The timing’s wrong. Surely he’s innocent.”
I started the car. “Let’s stop at Publix. If we can find someone who saw him there in the afternoon, we’ll know his alibi is sound.”
“Be real, Kitt. Who’s going to notice one shopper among the hundreds of people who were in the store picking up their weekend groceries?”
“Let’s stop. Good cops never give up following every lead—following it and checking it out. You never know what someone might notice. The volunteer at the Garden Club said Phud was wearing a business suit—a silk business suit and his tam. In the Keys where shorts and tank tops are the dress du jour, a business suit’s enough to make a guy noticed. And a tam! That’d make him stand out like a lighthouse on a foggy night.”
“No way do I think querying anyone here will get results,” Janell said, “but I’ll humor you. Let’s go inside and ask.”
We parked in the Publix customer lot, went inside, and looked around for the manager’s office. Publix seemed even colder than Fausto’s, and when I inhaled, the scent of fresh watermelon made my mouth water. Resisting a desire to buy a slice of it, I followed Janell directly to the manager’s office. Once inside the small cubicle, she stood beside his cluttered desk, and I spoke to a man wearing a badge on his white shirt that designated him only as Manager. I wondered if he had a name.
“May I help you ladies?” He rose, pushing his captain’s chair aside.
I made our request, mentioning Phud’s business suit, tam, and silvery hair.
Manager shook his head. “Can’t say that I noticed such a person last Friday, but, you know…” He nodded toward the aisles of the crowded selling floor. “Hundreds of people pass through this store every day. Your man would have had to have done something very special to cause anyone remember him.”
We thanked Manager and we left the store. When we reached the parking lot, Janell suggested heading for home, but I saw a sign pointing to Sombrero Beach and turned the Prius in that direction.
Janell looked at her watch. I ignored her unspoken hint.
“Kitt, we need to be getting home. Lots of chores to do before we open for customers this evening.”
“Phud said he went to the beach,” I said. “Do you really believe that? Would a lecturer dressed in a silk business suit spend time at the beach? Probably not. Or if he took time to change into beach attire, he definitely wouldn’t have had time to make it back to Key West in time for a murder.”
“So let’s head on home,” Janell said.
“This won’t take long. I’m guessing there’s a grounds keeper at the beach. Let’s find him. Question him.”
Janell didn’t answer and she pinched her lips into a tight line while we drove on past the high school and many residences before we reached the beach. Slowing for the pavement humps that prevented speeding along the much-used road, I parked near the first entry gate leading to the sand and beyond that, to the water.
“There’s the caretaker’s cottage.” Janell nodded toward the yellow home surrounded by white sand. “New sand,” she said as if that might be important. “They’ve re-furbished this beach following Hurricane Georges in ’98 and again after the big blows in 2005.”
We knocked on the cottage door, and the woman who introduced herself as the caretaker’s wife directed us down the beach to a spot where a man was riding on a huge tractor and dragging a piece of heavy equipment that smoothed the beach. I felt sand grit through my sandals and onto my toes while we walked to greet him. His tractor made so much noise that we had to wave to get his attention. He switched off the machine and grinned down at us as I made our request.
“Last Friday? Silver-haired guy? Maybe in a business suit?” He shook his head.
“Can’t give you any information, ladies. I might have noticed anyone wearing a business suit, but I was in Key Largo last Friday, picking up this machine. Sorry, I can’t be of help. My wife can’t help you, either. She rode along with me to Largo.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Janell called up to him, and we left the beach.
“So Phud seems to have an airtight alibi,” I said when we drove onto Seven Mi
le for the trip home. “But Teach doesn’t. And I’m beginning to think there’s something strange about Ace’s story.”
“Seems like we’re getting nowhere with our investigation, Kitt. But at least you’re getting to see some of the Keys. Sometimes all visitors take time to see is Key West. Too bad. There’re a lot of interesting things to see on the smaller Keys.”
I felt guilty at having delayed our trip home by insisting on stopping at Publix and then at the beach, but once we reached The Poinsettia I tried to make up for it by helping Janell with the sandwiches. We barely had time to enjoy Rex’s conch chowder and kiwi salad before the combo set up their fronts and customers began arriving.
Chapter 15
While Hella played drums on the theme song, Ace sauntered toward me. He gave a mock bow then asked, “May I have this dance?”
Even as he whirled me onto the dance floor, I wondered if he would have been so friendly, had he known that I’d stolen his work glove and that only a few hours ago I’d been checking on him, doubting him, thinking that perhaps he might have been the scum who’d murdered Abra Barrie.
“Have a good day?” he asked.
“Great day. Janell and I drove up Highway One a ways and did a few touristy things—a garden club, Sombrero Beach.”
He held me closer as we danced to the melancholy tune, and I didn’t push away from his embrace. He had such a clean scent, I couldn’t imagine him living in the confined quarters of his shrimp boat. I smelled a fragrance like the oil horsemen in Iowa used to care for their riding tack. Maybe fishermen used it, too. I tried to forget about the glove Hella had been so eager to get out of her apartment. Had Ace missed it yet? Or maybe he’d had reason to walk to the pool. Maybe he’d already found it. I tried to push Hella and her misgivings from my thinking.
“Kitt?” Ace gave my hand a slight shake. “Ace to Kitt. What planet are you on? I asked where you went after Sombrero Beach? The country club grounds near there are show places. See them?”
I yanked my mind back to the present. “No. We missed that. Had to get back here and prepare for the evening but we had a great day, Ace. Crossing a bridge seven miles long is a big deal for me. Sorta scary if you stop to think about it too long. And I saw enough of Pigeon Key to make me want to return for an on-the-scene visit. And you? What did you do today?”
“My days are pretty much alike.” Ace led us farther from the bandstand. “Worked on my boat. Plan to take her out for a long run in a few days. I don’t mind the shrimping routine. It’s my thing.”
His arm around my waist gave me a feeling of being protected. I relaxed and enjoyed it. Why not? His alibi had stood up to my scrutiny—and Janell’s. Only Hella’s consternation over the glove gave me cause to wonder about it. I hoped his girlfriend wouldn’t tell him about our visit and our questions. I wondered how often he found time to take her out on a date.
“You always fish at night—sleep by day?”
“Right. Shrimp won’t show themselves in the daytime. Took Key West fishermen a long time to discover that important fact. For years they never fished for shrimp. Thought no shrimp thrived in these waters.”
“How do you keep from getting lost at night? Rex says most boaters try to come in before dark.”
“You really want to know? Or are you asking to be polite?”
I looked into his blue eyes, honest blue eyes, I told myself. “Yes, Ace, I really want to know. You chart your route by the stars?”
Ace laughed. “No way. I’m not that good at astronomy. I have a cane fishing pole mounted in a Styrofoam float and anchored to it with a heavy length of chain. I secure a battery operated light to the top of the cane pole. When that rig is ready to use, I take The Ace to my secret fishing grounds, snap on the light, launch the float, and begin fishing while I circle the light in ever-widening rings.”
“How far away can you get from the light and still see it?”
“A far piece, Ma’am.” Ace laughed. “Never been lost at sea yet. Of course, I have a ship-too-shore radio, too. The Coast Guard’s always within signal distance if I should happen to get into trouble.”
“Or if your battery in the light gives out?”
“Never had the battery go dead on me yet. I check it out in a battery tester before every trip.”
The music stopped before I could ask Ace anything more. I admired his expertise in fishing, his knowledge of boats and the ways of shrimp. Admit it, Kitt. You enjoy being with him. The band had played a few more numbers and I was talking to Hella when Phud appeared at the snack bar. Hella turned her back to him and started to walk toward the B&B.
“You’re not going to the sunset celebration tonight?” I called after her, hoping she wasn’t going to leave me alone with Phud.
“Not tonight, Kitt. I don’t go every night—seems too much like a steady job. I’m a retired lady, you know—enjoying my golden years.”
“Golden years!” Phud had joined us uninvited. “Enjoy yourself while you’re young, Kitt. Golden years arrive with joint pains, blood pressure concerns, muscles that tire almost before you start using them.”
“Welcome, Mr. Gloom and Doom,” Hella said. “Count me out of your badmouthing. The golden years are a lot better than no golden years.”
“Okay, Merry Sunshine. Keep smiling.”
Hella turned, nodded goodnight to me and walked away.
“Have a good day in Miami?” Phud eased closer to me.
“Oh, we didn’t get clear to Miami.” I backed away from him a step or two and tried to turn away.
“I didn’t think you would.” He followed me along the edge of the snack bar. “What did you do and see?”
I felt wary. Was he merely being friendly, or was he prying for information he might use to his own advantage later?
“Oh, we stopped by Sombrero Beach. Spent more time there than we’d intended. We’ll have to see the sights in Miami another time.”
Before I could say yea or nay, Phud pulled me into an embrace and we began dancing. I liked the lime scent of his after shave. Scents were evoking strong feelings in me tonight. Clean smells. Good feelings.
“I like beaches, Kitt. Sombrero. Smathers. Bahia Honda. Did you stop at the state park beach?”
“The one on Key West or the one up the Highway?”
“Either one. They’re both lovely. Bahia Honda is written up on tour guides as one of the nation’s top ten beaches. And you didn’t stop there?”
“Not today.”
“I like the state park beach right in Key West,” Phud said. “Do you like to swim? Maybe we could go swimming some day.” Phud laughed. “What I’m really hinting for is a ride to Fort Taylor and the beach in your Prius. I’m dying to ride in that car, dying to drive it, too. Possibility?”
I felt trapped, trapped in his arms and trapped by his questions. “I’ll see what Janell has planned for me in the next few days. She did mention something about all of us going out for a ride one day soon—she and Rex and Hella. There’d be plenty of room for the five of us, and I’m sure Janell wouldn’t mind if you did the driving.”
If my evasive reply bothered Phud, he didn’t let on. “Let’s make it as soon as possible. If we wait too long, I’m afraid you’ll fade away back into Iowa.” Phud held me tighter, and I held my head very straight, preventing the cheek to cheek maneuver he had in mind. I enjoyed dancing with him, but I felt as if he were rushing me. Rushing me where? I eased from his embrace when the combo took a break. Excusing myself, I left the patio and went inside to run a comb through my hair and sit down and relax for a moment.
When I returned to the patio both Hella and Phud approached me offering a sandwich and a fresh drink. I tried to peek at the sandwich filling—and it didn’t look like tuna salad.
“Thanks, guys, but I…” At that moment Teach headed toward us, and spared me from having to make either excuses or choices. Even with his hands jammed into the pockets of his blue jumpsuit, Teach gave the impression of standing ramrod straight. His mirr
ored sunglasses which he wore both day and night made me uneasy. I had to look down to meet his gaze and I never felt sure whether he was looking at me or at someone else. Tonight, for a few moments, he removed that doubt.
“Kitt, I have a question for you.”
“Not sure I have any answers.” I wished Phud and Hella would give us some space, but they stood listening.
“I’ve had two cancellations for tomorrow’s flight to Dry Tortugas. Since you said you haven’t been there for years, I’m wondering if you’d like to go along? I’d be glad to have you aboard”
His question caught me off guard and I struggled for a reply. “How nice of you to invite me, Teach. I’d like to see Fort Jefferson again, but I’m not sure what Janell and Rex have planned for tomorrow.” I wondered if that excuse was growing thin. Or did it ring with sincerity? “I’m sure you must have a back-up list of people who’d like to fly with you.”
“Better grab the chance, Kitt.” Rex called from his stance behind the cash register where he’d been listening to our conversation. “Teach’s a good pilot and a super guide. People sometimes wait days to be able to get a reservation on The Osprey.”
“Sounds like good advice, Rex, but I’ll need to talk to Janell before I make a decision to be away for a whole day. She may need some kitchen help, and we did have some sight-seeing plans for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Half day trip,” Teach said. “Only a half day.”
“Janell’s an easy taskmaster,” Rex said. “She’ll let you go.”
Janell stood at the end of the snack bar filling a child’s order for a peanut butter sandwich, and I looked in her direction, willing her to meet my gaze. She continued making more sandwiches until I eased away from the others and walked to the counter where she was working.
“Janell, what about our plans for tomorrow?”
Janell turned her back toward Rex and the others and spoke softly. “We were going to check on Teach’s whereabouts last Friday afternoon, remember? But maybe if you take him up on his offer it’d give you an opportunity to ask some pertinent questions. Subtly, of course. And not only about his activities but also about anything Ace, Phud, or even Hella and Mama G might have mentioned to him concerning last Friday and Abra Barrie.”
Killer in Control Page 12
