“Where you going, Wes?”
I took a deep breath and willed my heart to slow its rapid beat when I saw the smiling face of my friend, Brenda Fielding. She hugged me and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. I hadn’t seen much of her in the past month since her boyfriend, Randy, showed up in Key West and moved aboard her boat. I’d missed her company.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m trying to work out a few things in my mind.”
She let go of me and stepped back. “You looked so lost. You do realize a good sailor is supposed to react, not think.”
I laughed. “You’re looking good today.”
This caused the smile on her face to broaden. Brenda was a couple of years older than me and worked as a night shift nurse at the local hospital. She was wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt, and as always she wore little makeup. The biggest change since the last time I’d seen her was that she had cut her hair short and changed the color from brown to blond.
Brenda was the first person I met when I pulled into the mooring field a couple of months earlier. The wind had been blowing a steady fifteen knots from the north, and although I was an experienced sailor, I’d never picked up a mooring ball before. Brenda was returning to her boat and when she saw the bind I was in she headed her dinghy over to where I was struggling. She helped tie the boat off and stayed for dinner. Over the next six weeks we spent almost all of our time together. Unfortunately for me, her ex-boyfriend came back into the picture and now we were just friends.
“How about if I buy you a cup of coffee?” she asked. “I suspect a shot of caffeine will work something loose for you.”
Glancing at my watch I saw it was a little past noon. “Sure.” I looked around. “Where’s Randy?”
“To make a long story short, he’s gone. But I’d rather not talk about him. The Bad Ass Coffee Company is up ahead. What do you say we head on over there?”
The building that housed the Bad Ass Coffee Company was larger than most of the Starbucks I’d visited over the years. It only took one visit to realize they were not a seat-of-the-pants independent shop. To place an order it was necessary to pass a gauntlet of shelves filled with logo caps, mugs and shirts. I’m sure the jackass logo appealed to many customers, but Brenda and I had no trouble resisting the merchandise as we walked up to the counter.
Brenda ordered some kind of a sweet sounding frozen drink with an exotic name and an inflated price. I ordered a cup of French Roast, black and strong. When I reached for my wallet Brenda pushed me aside and laid a credit card on the counter.
“I said I was buying,” she reminded me. “Why don’t you go grab us a table and I’ll be right with you.”
When Brenda joined me at the table she took a serious sip of her drink, set it down and took a moment to look me over. She must have liked what she saw because she smiled and reached out and took my hand.
“I think what I missed the most, were our talks,” she said.
“It was your choice,” I reminded her. “You made it pretty clear you didn’t want me hanging around once Randy showed up.”
She shrugged. “I guess I was being naive. I thought we could all be friends. Randy was too jealous of you. He came all the way down here and I needed to give the relationship one last try.”
“And now it’s over and he’s gone?”
“Yeah. He couldn’t stand living on the boat. Said it made him claustrophobic. He wanted me to sell it, move back up to Minneapolis and get an apartment. He gave me an ultimatum-him or the boat. I think I made the right choice when I chose the boat.”
“I never did like the guy.”
“I know,” she said. “So what’s got you so wrapped up you don’t even watch where you’re going?”
I blew on my coffee, took a sip, and gathered my thoughts. In the short time we’d dated we talked about everything and I couldn’t see any reason to hold back now. I told her about Nick, Frankie Szymanski, and Destiny. She already knew the reason I’d quit being a detective and when I mentioned what Elvis told me, she raised an eyebrow.
“You’re right,” she said. “You’ve got a shit load to think about. I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks,” I said. We sat looking at each other for several minutes, sipping our coffee and waiting for the other to say something. Finally I asked, “Do you believe in psychics?”
When Brenda answered, she sounded tentative. “I’m not sure. But my mother is convinced her sister Rose possessed psychic abilities. She swears to this day that my aunt saved the whole family.”
I finished my coffee and raised a finger. “Hold that thought while I get a refill. Can I get you anything?”
Brenda shook her head so I went up to the counter, got my refill and made my way back to the table. I didn’t believe she could convince me psychics were real, but Brenda always told interesting stories. I sat back down across from her and said, “Go ahead. Convince me some people have psychic abilities.”
“I’m not trying to change your mind about anything. But I’ll tell you the story. It was back in nineteen fifty-nine. My grandfather owned a farm outside of Minneapolis and he’d decided to take the family on a trip to Chicago. My aunt Rose was the youngest. She was only thirteen. Then there was my Uncle Frank and my mother.”
“I’m not convinced.”
Brenda frowned and cast an evil look my way. “You’re beginning to irritate me.”
I’d been properly chastised. I looked down into my coffee cup and shut up.
“The morning they were supposed to catch the train, Rose woke up crying. She didn’t want to go. When my grandmother pressed her, Rose said she had a dream the train they were on crashed and they were all killed.”
“But she was wrong,” I interrupted. “You’re here. Your mother must not have been killed.”
“Are you going to let me finish my story or not?”
I was going to suggest that I warm my coffee a little, but the scowl on her face made me reconsider. I folded my arms and nodded. “I’m listening.”
“My grandfather was a hard man. He wasn’t going to let the dreams of his youngest daughter spoil his vacation. He informed the family that Rose was imagining things. Told everyone to get packed so they could leave. By the time they were finished packing, Rose couldn’t be found. From what my mother told me, my Grandfather was livid. They missed the train, and when they found Rose she got a beating she never forgot.”
“And the train?”
“It arrived in Chicago right on time.”
“So how does this make your aunt psychic?”
“This is where the story gets interesting. My grandfather was so mad he refused to catch another train. He was punishing the entire family for what my aunt Rose did.”
“I’m still waiting for the punch line.”
“The punch line, as you put it, is that the train they would have returned home on hit a car in Wisconsin. The train jumped the track and seven passengers were killed.”
“So you’re telling me your aunt did have psychic abilities?”
Brenda nudged her cup aside and leaned toward me. “What I’m saying is that my aunt was right that time. From what my mother told me, Aunt Rose never experienced another psychic dream, at least she never admitted it. Maybe it was a one-time thing or maybe she was afraid of getting another beating. I don’t know.”
“So explain to me again how this story is supposed to help me?”
“Think about it. Maybe this Elvis guy is right; maybe he’s a nut case. Your mother owns a detective agency. What harm will it do to check out the girl’s father, or stepfather, if that’s what he is? Does he own property with a barn on it? Did he adopt the girl? Was the mother’s death suspicious? Worst case scenario you end up where you are right now.”
“My mother would never open a case based on a psychic’s predictions.”
“Don’t tell her. You’re a bright guy. I’m sure you can figure a way to get around it.”
“I’ll think
about it.” I checked the time and stood. “I’ve got some things to do, and I’ve got to prepare myself for my mother’s arrival. I’m not looking forward to it.”
“I know you’ve got some issues with her,” Brenda said. “But a couple of days together can’t be that much of an ordeal-can it?”
My phone rang before I could answer, saving me an explanation. “I should get this,” I said, pulling the phone from my pocket. “It might be her. I hope she didn’t catch an earlier flight.”
“Well hang in there,” Brenda said. “And let’s keep in touch,” she added as she pushed herself away from the table. She gathered up the dirty cups and carried them over to the garbage can near the door.
“After my mother leaves why don’t we get together and go for a sail?”
“Call me,” Brenda said, and then she headed out of the door while I flipped open the phone.
“Wes Darling here,” I said.
“Darling, this is Detective Davies. Get your ass down to the station. We need to talk, and sooner is better for you than later.”
Chapter 12
Davies had been curt on the phone and I couldn’t imagine what might have pissed her off, unless she’d just gotten off the phone with my mother. That might do it, especially if Davies told my mother she couldn’t claim Nick’s body. Mother was used to having her own way. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had taken their anger with my mother out on me.
This time Davies wasn’t outside when I arrived. When I entered the building the officer at the desk looked up from the book he was reading. I told him my name and who I was there to see. He stood and looked me up and down before asking, “You armed.”
“No.” For a moment I thought he was going to come around the desk and frisk me, but instead he turned toward the door to the back offices.
“Follow me.” He led me back to the same office where I’d met Davies the day before. When he left he added, “Linda will be with you in a few minutes.”
It was the first time I’d heard her first name, and I realized she had never mentioned it. I suspected she had done it on purpose, her way of keeping our relationship professional. I thought about the implications, and wondered once again if she suspected me in Nick’s death. Maybe I’ll ask her, I thought while I sat back to wait for her to appear. She kept me waiting for nearly twenty minutes.
“I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me,” I said when she finally walked in. She was much more casually dressed than the first two times I’d seen her; jeans, neatly pressed, and a light blue blouse. She still carried the huge purse slung over her shoulder, and she was carrying another file folder, which she tossed in front of an empty chair.
“Mister Darling, I’m glad you could make it. When you didn’t answer my earlier call, I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
“What earlier call?” I asked, and then I remembered the call I’d received when I was with Elvis.
“It’s not important.” She sat down across from me. “What’s important is that you’re here now.” She leaned forward and I caught a hint of her perfume, something heady and exciting. It almost made me want to forget about this woman’s pock-marked face. “You don’t mind looking at a few other pictures, do you, Wes?”
I shook my head no. She leaned back and picked up the file folder. She never took her eyes off my face as she opened the file, took out an eight-by-ten publicity photo and slid it across the table to me. I tried to prepare myself for another look at Nick. I hesitated, picked up the picture, and glanced at it before tossing it back to Davies.
“That’s not Nick,” I said.
“No shit Sherlock. You really are a detective aren’t you? You do know who it is though?”
“His name is Billy. He works at Dirty Alvin’s. He was there last night in fact. What happened to him, and what does he have to do with Nick?” She had succeeded in surprising me, and I almost told her that I knew him and Destiny, but I held back. I wasn’t ready to let her in on my investigation. I didn’t like the implications. Billy was Destiny’s boyfriend, and Nick was looking for Destiny. It was a little too much to be a coincidence.
“His given name’s William Bodine,” she said, still watching my face. “He’s got a record. He has a temper, and we’ve received several complaints about him. We found him in his apartment this morning. He’d been shot in the head like your friend. By the way, Wes, where were you last night?”
My mouth went dry and I fought not to show any emotion on my face. Thanks for small favors, I thought. If I hadn’t let Destiny talk me into staying at Tanya’s I’d probably be in jail today. I could account for my time, but I wondered exactly when Destiny left Tanya’s house. I didn’t want to believe she was a murderer, but I wasn’t going to rule out the possibility. I also wasn’t ready to turn her over to the cops as a suspect.
“I asked where you were last night, Wes.” Davies’ voice hardened. “I want an answer, now.”
“I was at the bar until close. After I left Alvin’s I spent the night with friends.”
Davies nodded and pulled a notebook from her pocket. “The only reason you’re sitting here talking to me instead of behind bars is because I had a little talk with your boss, Tanya Robertson, before calling you. She told me you spent last night at her place. I’m not sure I buy it. Maybe she’s lying for you. Maybe you’re both in on this.”
“Why would I want to kill Billy? I hardly knew the guy. We talked a couple of times in the bar, nothing more. And I can’t even begin to imagine why Tanya would want him dead.”
“It could be any number of things,” she said. “It could be jealousy. Maybe he was hitting on the owner and you wanted her for yourself. Maybe the two of you were drinking and got into an argument. If you had a fight and it was self-defense, you could even get off without doing any jail time.”
“More bullshit,” I said. “From the sound of your voice, I don’t even think you believe the fantasy you laid out for me.”
“All right.” She sighed, and offered up another possibility. “Maybe you killed Billy because you found out he killed your friend, Nick.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I said. “And I find it hard to believe Billy killed Nick.” I’d watched the way Billy backed down from Bob and I couldn’t see how he would have gotten the drop on Nick, let alone killed him.
“Why not? We found a gun in the apartment. It’s the same caliber as the one used to kill Hastings; we’re waiting for a match from ballistics to confirm whether the bullets are the same. We also found a pistol registered to your buddy, Nick, under Billy’s bed. Hastings had a shoulder holster on him when his body was found, but the gun was missing. I figure Bodine killed Hastings and took the gun. The question is, who killed Bodine, and why? Vengeance is a strong motivator, Wes.”
She had a good point. Of course I possessed information Davies didn’t. I could only speculate about Bob. I wondered if he’d somehow tracked Billy down. If Billy wouldn’t or couldn’t tell him where Destiny was, I knew Bob was capable of killing him. I wondered if maybe Bob killed Nick and made it look like Billy did it. The trouble was, I couldn’t figure out a motivation. After all, Nick was trying to find the girl for them and I didn’t think he would hesitate to turn her over to them once he’d located her. He would have figured he was doing the job he was paid to do.
“Why would Billy kill Nick?” I asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Davies leaned across the table again and I was hit with her perfume one more time. There should be a law against cops wearing something so enticing.
“I was sort of hoping you could give me the answer,” she said.
“As far as I know, Nick and Billy never met. To be honest, I don’t know what the hell’s going on.”
“Call me a skeptic,” Davies said. “I don’t think you’ve told me the truth since I met you. “Get the hell out of here, but keep in touch. I still like you for Bodine’s death. You’ve got the motive, and if you didn’t have a strong alibi I’d arrest y
ou right now. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Darling.”
***
While I walked back to Tanya’s house all I could think about was Nick. When I’d done something wrong as a kid, he’d often run interference with my mother. He’d bought me my first baseball glove. Offered me advice before my first date. Given me my first Playboy magazine. I had an empty space inside of me, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon. When I thought about Nick’s death I realized I was going to have to make amends with my mother. Life was too short to carry grudges.
Tanya was sitting on the porch swing drinking coffee and talking on her cell phone when I arrived. She appeared agitated and I hated to interrupt. I stood and watched her through the slats until she closed the phone, then I lifted the latch and opened the gate. Startled, she looked up and then smiled. Damn, I thought, even wearing old jeans and a Key West t-shirt two sizes too big for her, she looked good.
“Hey.” She set her cup down on the floor, laid her phone next to the cup, and jumped up.
“Hey yourself.” I took the steps two at a time and met her halfway across the porch. She reached out as if she were going to hug me, thought better of it, and instead took my hand.
“I’ve got a lot to tell you.” Tanya led me back to the swing and we sat down next to each other. “Just after you left this morning, a cop paid a visit. She told me Billy’s dead-murdered. For some reason she suspects you. I told her you stayed here last night. She had a thousand questions. Things like how well did you know Billy, and did the two of you get along.”
“Woman by the name of Davies?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s working on Nick’s murder too. Seems a little uptight, but likable enough.”
“Likable? She practically came right out and told me she thinks you killed Billy.”
“I think she knows I didn’t do it. I was here, remember?”
“I know, I…” Tanya’s phone began to ring and she looked over, hesitated, and grabbed for it. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. I’ve been on the phone since Detective Davies left. I’m trying to find a replacement for Billy.”
Key Lime Blues Page 9
