by Carolyn Hart
Annie walked up to the pavilion. Friday night the pavilion tables hadn’t been used so the only visitors would be those coming up to the restrooms.
When Iris came out of the restroom, a familiar voice called to her. There were so many ways a conversation might have occurred, but whatever was said, Iris had been persuaded to come into the woods.
Annie came down the path, turned left to reach the entrance to the woods. There would have been a brief moment when Iris and the figure beside her moved through the amber light from the lamp.
That moment was unlikely to have been noticed by the guests, absorbed in conversation and food. The picnic tables sat end side to the woods so the path was in their guests’ peripheral vision. Only the servers faced the entrance. The bandstand was between the woods and the picnic tables. The musicians had their backs to the woods and the path.
Annie drew a quick breath and plunged into dimness. Squirrels chittered. An unseen pine warbler’s distinctive wip wip wip chirped nearby. She kept a moderate pace as if walking with a companion, talking. She brushed aside ferns, carrying with her the memory of Iris’s huddled body. As she came around another curve, crime tape hung limply across the path.
Annie averted her gaze from the area marked off by the tape. She dropped back a step as if casually falling behind a companion. She imagined yanking on the gloves and grabbing a thick branch, sturdy enough to be a club. She cracked the weapon through the air, jolted it to a stop neck high. In her mind, Iris sagged to the ground. Annie knelt, pulled free the cord, looped it…
She waited a full minute. The caw of a crow sounded a dirge.
Jumping to her feet, Annie ran lightly back toward the picnic ground. She paused to quiet her breathing before plunging out of the woods and moving quickly past the lamppost. She returned to the center table.
Annie looked at her watch with a sense of wonder.
Chapter 14
Annie pushed through the heavy wooden door of Parotti’s. She was instantly comforted by the chatter of voices, bursts of laughter, and familiar smells of wood shavings, fish bait, and grease.
Max’s wheelchair was folded next to their favorite booth. He smiled and called out, “Food’s coming. Your favorites.”
Annie wished that all she cared about was a fried-oyster sandwich with a double dash of tartar sauce. She hurried toward him.
As she came nearer, his smile slipped away. “Annie?”
She came close, reached out, took his hand, his wonderful, warm, reassuring hand. “Did you know”—her voice was high—“you can leave a table at the pavilion, kill someone, and be back in eleven minutes?” She pulled away, slid onto the opposite bench, welcoming the hardness of the wood, the carved tabletop decorated by so many of Ben’s customers, including them. She reached out and touched the heart with their initials that Max had gouged one happy summer night. “No one would notice you’d been gone.” She lifted her face, looked at him forlornly. “Killing Iris was easy. No one would pay any attention when someone left a table to go to the pavilion or get seconds or talk to someone else.”
Max poured hot coffee from a serving thermos into her mug, handed it to her. “Drink this.”
Annie drank, grateful for the warmth, but the steaming coffee didn’t touch the cold deep inside. It was a relief to tell Max about her walk into the woods. The words built a bridge from her solitary journey to the bright cheer of Parotti’s. She could almost block out her reenactment and the dark images it evoked.
Almost. Not quite.
Max shook his head. “You shouldn’t have gone into the woods by yourself.”
Annie was impatient. “There was no one to see me. I needed to look. Now I know how Iris was killed.” She bent forward. “Darlene may have seen something. Or someone.” Annie put the salt and pepper a few inches apart. She placed her knife horizontally opposite the shakers. She tapped the small space between the shakers. “That’s the entrance to the woods. The serving line”—she touched the knife—“was directly opposite. Your view between the salt and pepper is Darlene’s view Friday night of the path into the woods.”
Max pulled out his cell, punched a number. “Mavis, this is Max. I’ve got a couple of things I’d like to tell Billy.” Max waited. “Hey, Billy. After I talked to Coach, I went by to see Buck. I asked him what happened that night at the sports picnic. Buck claims Jocelyn wanted to know who sold the cocaine to Sam. He told her Sam got the stuff from Iris. Buck insists he left Jocelyn alive.”
Annie knew every nuance of Max’s voice. She felt a curl of sadness. Not Buck. Please, not dear, likable Buck.
“I guess that’s not news to you. For what it’s worth”—Max’s expression was troubled—“I know Buck pretty well. I would have told you he was one of the most honest men I know.” The words came slowly, reluctantly. “Buck looked at me, the kind of ingenuous look the best liars have when they’re putting on a spin. Buck lied to me when he told me about his conversation with Jocelyn. I can’t put a finger on what sounded false. I can’t prove he lied, but he wasn’t telling me everything. That’s as near as I can come.”
Max listened, then nodded. “I know. You have to be able to connect someone with Iris at the party. Maybe there’s a way. Annie went to the pavilion a little while ago. You’ll want to talk to her.” He handed the cell to Annie.
Annie retraced her steps for Billy. “…I stood exactly where the serving line was set up. Darlene Hopper looked directly toward the entrance to the woods. There’s a lamppost and enough light to recognize people. Only the servers faced the woods. The band members had their backs to the woods. Guests sitting at a picnic table look either toward the pavilion or the Sound. So the servers—”
Billy cut in. “Hold on a minute.” There was a sound of rustling papers. “Yeah. I got it here. Three servers, Miss Jolene, Trudy Valdez, and Darlene Hopper. Miss Jolene and Mrs. Valdez both came to the island after Iris left. Neither one knew her.”
Only Darlene.
“Good work, Annie. We’re looking for Darlene. If she saw anything, we’ll get it out of her.”
Annie spoke fast before he could hang up. “I timed everything….” Once again dark images moved in her mind. “Everything may have happened in as little as eleven minutes.” Less time than it took to enjoy a good cup of coffee and a piece of Miss Jolene’s Key lime pie or dance a shag or balance a checkbook.
A voice spoke in the background, the words indistinguishable. Billy was abrupt. “Got to go. But your guess is as good as anybody’s. If Iris and her killer were only together for a few minutes, Darlene may be our best hope. We’ll find her. ASAP.”
Annie clicked off the cell. She replaced the salt and pepper in the center of the table, realigned the knife by the spoon. “If Darlene doesn’t know, Billy may never be able to catch the murderer.”
Max looked upbeat. “I’ve got a feeling he’ll break the bank with Darlene. Why would she have raced away if she didn’t know something? You said she looked like she was on her way somewhere as fast as possible.” He looked past Annie, smiled. “Hey, Ben.”
“Yo, Max.” Ben Parotti’s usual smile was absent. His sleeves were rolled up though he was still natty in a red-and-white-striped shirt, red polka-dot bow tie, and khaki trousers. He deftly served their plates, flounder with mushrooms and sour cream and grilled asparagus for Max, fried oysters on an onion bun and hot German potato salad for Annie. Two unsweetened iced teas. He shot them a harried glance. “If that’s all you need, I got to get back to the kitchen.”
As Ben strode toward the kitchen, Max forked a steaming piece of flounder. “Something’s hassling Ben.”
Annie wasn’t worried about Ben. “Probably a crisis in the kitchen. Or maybe he and Miss Jolene are crossways.”
“That’s as likely as snow in July.” Max cut an asparagus stalk. “Whatever’s wrong, the food’s still the best.”
Annie welcomed the sandwich, the onion bun hot to the touch, the fried oysters lightly battered and crisp. She wished her thoughts co
uld be as cheerful as her meal. “Billy’s got it right. We need proof.”
Max nodded. “If Darlene saw one of her classmates go into the woods with Iris, everything may unravel for the murderer. If that happens, you can feel good about it. You’re the one who broke through with Darlene. We’ve helped Billy a lot.” Max ticked off what they’d learned. “Russell was the baby’s father, according to Darlene. Buck is hiding something about his talk with Jocelyn. We’ve given all of that to Billy.” He dredged a piece of flounder through the creamy sauce. “I don’t think we need to worry about the murderer setting another blaze or coming after us with a gun. We’ve been in and out of the police station. It’s obvious we’ve reported everything we know to Billy. The murderer’s still free so it’s obvious we don’t possess dangerous information. When Billy finds Darlene, we may be able to get back to normal.”
Annie took a last bite of the sandwich. Normal seemed long ago and not within reach. “I wish.”
Max was ebullient. “Darlene will make all the difference.”
Annie felt buoyed by his good humor. “Maybe she will.”
Hurried steps sounded on the wooden floor. Ben approached with his tray. “Dessert?”
Annie shook her head, surprised at his departure from the usual proud listing of Miss Jolene’s daily delectables.
“Not today. Tell Miss Jolene we’re saving up for Saturday night and her eggnog icebox cake.” Max looked toward Annie.
Annie smiled. At least once a month, they came to Parotti’s on a Saturday night. The cake was one of her favorites and only available then, a magnificent concoction of butter, confectioners’ sugar, egg yolks, egg whites, bourbon, pecans, and Miss Jolene’s homemade pound cake.
Annie looked up at Ben. “She can count on us.”
“That’ll be good.” He was perfunctory. “I’ll put the bill on your tab.”
Annie realized Ben truly wasn’t himself, abstracted and lacking his usual genial patter.
She reached out to touch his arm. “What’s wrong? Is there anything we can do?”
He gave them a weak smile. “Wash dishes maybe.” He stretched out moist red hands. “When you asked to talk to Darlene, I figured it was extra to her break. That was an hour ago and she hasn’t come back. I phoned her twice, left messages. Trudy’s home sick so I’ve got to handle the floor by myself plus serve. I’ve got a call in to my cousin Norma. She’ll help us out. Darlene should have told me she had to leave. I had her on a short leash anyway. A lot of the customers don’t want to see all those tattoos. She may come back, but there won’t be a job waiting for her.”
“Oh, Ben, it’s my fault. Darlene was terribly upset.” Quickly, Annie explained.
Ben’s face softened. “Darlene’s always had the short end of the stick. I won’t say anything.” He bent to pick up their plates, stacking the silverware. “That was a bad year. Two kids dead, now another one gone. Drugs are poison. I wish kids would listen.”
As Ben turned away, Annie called after him. “Can I have Darlene’s phone number?”
He turned back. “I’ll get it for you.”
“And her address?” Darlene would have filled out a job application with her personal information, including her Social Security number.
Ben nodded. “Sure. Back in a sec.”
As he hurried away, pausing long enough to refill tea glasses at one table, Max looked up from the wheelchair. “What do you have in mind?”
Annie looked determined. “I want to find Darlene. She’ll run scared of Billy. Maybe she’ll talk to us.”
THE ONSHORE BREEZE RUSTLED THE PINK FRINGE OF THE GOLF cart. Annie smiled at Max. “What a fun way to get around the island.”
Sitting sideways in the driver’s seat, Max dexterously shoved the wheelchair into the golf cart space, carefully swung his feet into the cart. “You’d be surprised at the speed I can get out of this baby.”
Annie punched the number provided by Ben. As she listened to the rings, she shook her head. “Nothing ever surprises me about you and speed.” She’d had too many white-knuckled rides in Max’s 425-hp MerCruiser powerboat.
A tinny voice spoke, Darlene’s answering message: “Catch me another time. If you can.”
Slipping into the cart, Annie waited for the tone. “This is Annie Darling. Please call me.” Annie left both her cell and store numbers. Why should Darlene bother? “You had a good view of the path into the woods Friday night. It’s important to know if you saw Iris and if anyone was with her. Or contact the police. We’ll pay out the reward either way. Remember that this information—if you have it—can put you in danger. If you have a name, stay away from that person. Don’t take any chances.”
Max gave her a swift glance. “Do you think she may do something stupid?”
“I hope not, but I’ve been scared ever since I stood where she served.” The picnic grounds had been empty this morning. Silence had pressed against Annie as she faced the dark woods. Silence and remembered horror.
The electric cart rolled smoothly across the street and sped onto a bike path.
They’d gone perhaps fifty feet into the forest, quite cool beneath the canopy of trees, when Annie reached out and touched Max’s arm. “We aren’t making a sound. You’d better slow down or we may careen right into an alligator.”
“The path’s too cool for a ’gator to be lounging around. But a passenger’s peace of mind is important.” He slowed until they reached a narrow paved road that angled toward the northeast.
Annie clung to the side of the cart as the golf cart picked up speed. The road was bumpy. Fishing camps and cabins dotted this end of the island. The occasional house was modest, though some were well kept.
Max slowed the cart to turn off on a dirt road. Clouds of dust rose beneath the wheels. In another half-mile, he followed a narrow, dark, and twisty lane that was scarcely more than two deep ruts. The golf cart jolted beneath low hanging branches. Undergrowth choked the dark woods.
The cart reached the end of the lane. Ramshackle wooden cabins curved in a semicircle. Tar paper covered some windows and patched some wind-damaged roofs. A rusted pickup was jacked up on the far side of the clearing. Annie looked around in dismay. “She lives here?” Growth-choked pines cast long shadows over the cabins. Algae scummed a neglected pond.
Max nodded. “Number Five.” The cart rolled to a stop. Cardboard replaced several panes of a front window. The surviving panes were dirt-streaked. A yellowing sheet served as a curtain, covering the front window.
A chained German shepherd near Cabin Three growled, lunging against his restraint. A raccoon with one paw in a tilted garbage can lifted his head to watch them.
Annie stared at the dilapidated cabin. “It’s desolate.” She swung out of the cart and hurried to the door. There was no bell or knocker. She rapped on the panel, waited.
The dog growled, deep in his throat. Pine boughs sighed in the breeze.
Annie knocked again. “Darlene, if you’re here, please talk to us.”
The door remained closed.
AT THE HARBOR, MAX WAITED IN THE GOLF CART AND watched Annie drive away. She’d promised to go straight to Death on Demand. He felt the farther she was from this end of the island, the safer she was.
Annie had agreed they’d done all they could do to find Darlene. Now it was up to Billy. Annie had gone the extra mile, trying to find Darlene to urge her to talk to Billy. Maybe they’d get a lead from the flyers Barb had posted around town. He felt uneasy. Billy had warned them: Don’t taunt a tiger. Was Darlene taunting a tiger?
Max drove the golf cart along Main Street, then turned toward the harbor. He stopped on the boardwalk and breathed in the salty scent from the Sound. He watched sails puff on sloops and seabirds circle near a shrimp boat. He envied the absorption of a solitary fisherman at the end of Fish Haul pier. He wished he could slip back into his easy island life. Not yet. Would it do any good to confront Buck, demand to know what he was hiding? Max almost turned the golf cart toward the law of
fice, then shook his head impatiently. He needed more than instinct to shake Buck’s story.
It was time to get back to Confidential Commissions, see if he and Barb could nose out some fact, any fact, that would give them a lead. He smiled as he turned the cart south, knowing he would make a minor detour. One of the great charms of the Franklin house was its nearness to downtown. He’d check and see if any progress had been made in the repairs. By the time he got back to Confidential Commissions, there might be some responses to the flyer. Max followed a bike path to Bay Street.
He felt content as he turned into the drive to the Franklin house. Soon, he and Annie would move in. He eased the golf cart to a stop in front of the two-story tabby house with piazzas both downstairs and up. The house sat high on tabby foundations. No matter what category hurricane hit the island, the Franklin house would likely be safe from the storm surge.
It wasn’t until he swung out his feet that he stopped in dismay. Sure, he had a wheelchair, but there were no ramps. Damn.
Oyster shells crunched behind him. Russell Montgomery’s white pickup curved toward the house, stopped behind the golf cart. Good. Russell could give him a progress report. Maybe he’d have a firm date when the house would be available. Max lifted a hand in greeting as Russell swung heavily down from the cab.
Russell was crisp in a blue-and-white checked shirt, khakis, and work boots. His face was in shadow beneath a broad-brimmed Panama. He moved like a man ready to fight, hands bunched into fists, stride bullish.
Max stiffened.
Russell’s shadow fell across Max. He looked down at Max seated in the golf cart. “I dropped by Liz’s shop. I saw Annie leave in her car and you head this way in that.” He jerked his head at the golf cart. “I figured you were coming here. I got a problem with you two.”
