“We think so. We know she was suffocated. The medical examiner found a tiny piece of brown plastic between her teeth. It's a match to the plastic of a Publix grocery bag.”
“Okay," I said. I stood with my back to the kitchen counter, letting the coffee brew. The image of Kathy, fighting for every breath, rocked me to my core. Tears filled my eyes and threatened to spill over.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” said Nathan, getting up to put his arms around me.
I stiffened at first and then relaxed because I badly needed comforting. “What sort of person suffocates someone? Especially someone so young? Can you imagine? Gasping for air?”
“Shhh,” he said. “If it’s any comfort, she’d been drugged first. She probably didn’t realize what was happening.”
I pulled away from him. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be touched. Being touched meant caring, and caring brought pain.
Nathan went back to his chair. He took my response as a rejection, but I was too upset to worry about his reaction. Instead, I swallowed hard and focused on the task at hand. I couldn’t bring Kathy back, but I might be able to help him put away her killer. "How about if I just do some brainstorming, and you can take it from there? You saw how Skye ironed bags together. Once you’ve done that, you can use the new material just like fabric. Another favorite of mine is cutting bags into strips and crocheting them. But those are pretty complex examples of upcycling, or turning a raw product into something new without breaking it down. Most people line trash cans or reuse the bags to carry stuff or take them back to the grocery store where they go in a recycling bin. You can also use plastic sacks as packaging, stuffing them around something in a box. Or wear one as a glove. Or use them to pick up animal waste. My friend Kiki is a crafter. She scrunches up plastic bags and then dabs them against wet paint to create textures. I once used a bag as a rain hat when it was pouring outside. Does that help?”
“Some.” He sipped his coffee and sighed.
“I guess it depends on how creative you are,” I admitted. "And how much time you want to spend."
“That makes sense.”
“If a bag was the murder weapon, could you prove it? I mean, if you found the bag?”
“It’s very possible we could. There might be traces of Kathy’s saliva on the inside of the bag, as well as fingerprints on the outside.”
“Oh.” I depressed the plunger on the cafetiere. My mind skipped ahead. “Do I need to worry about Adrian Green being released? I have a feeling he’d like to pay me back for what happened to him.”
“Since Mr. Green had his passport and a ticket out of the country on his person, I suspect he will remain a guest of the State of Florida until his case comes to trial. If he does get out on bail, you’ll be the first to know.”
Since he was being so candid, I decided to indulge my curiosity. “Did you ever find out what happened to Wallace Eberly? How he disappeared? I went online and read about the graves they’d found up at the Dozier School. Was he one of the boys who died?”
“We’re not sure yet, but that’s what it looks like. Mrs. Simmons has submitted a DNA sample to her local authorities. She also signed a waiver releasing any medical information that might help identify her brother’s remains. I’m hopeful that the team of forensic scientists working on the site up in Marianna can give her closure. If I was a betting man, I’d put all my money on Wallace being one of the boys in those graves.”
“I didn’t get the chance to look through all of Kathy Simmons’ files,” I said, feeling my face grow warm with embarrassment. I didn’t want Nathan to think I was a snoop, even if I was. “I know I probably shouldn’t have looked at any of them. But I did. Have you looked them over?”
I couldn’t help but wonder if Cooper was safe now that Davidson had what he needed. Last night, I’d briefly considered calling him and telling him about the files. In fact, I’d dialed his number once and hung up before it connected. A part of me wanted to warn him. Another part held back. He’d gotten himself into this mess. It wasn’t my job to bail him out.
I was nothing to Cooper. Hadn’t he proven that?
Nathan shook his head. “No, I haven’t looked at the rest of her files. I want to, but I’ve been too busy stomping out other fires. Especially since we’re so short-handed. I’ll look at the other files as soon as I can.”
“Jason won’t get in trouble for roughing up Adrian Green will he?” That had been another reason I couldn’t sleep. I worried that Jason would be charged with assault. After how I’d been treated by the law enforcement community, I didn’t trust in their fairness. As much as I liked Nathan, he had a sworn duty to punish wrong-doers. Jason shouldn’t have been so rough on Adrian.
Although in my heart of hearts, I thought Adrian had gotten exactly what he deserved.
“As far as I know, Mr. Robbins barely touched Adrian Green. Is that the way you remember it?” and Davidson winked at me.
“Yup,” I said, channeling Kiki Lowenstein. “That’s it exactly.”
105
~Cara~
My friends decided I needed to take another day off. MJ was particularly adamant that I didn’t wait on customers. Skye said that the waitresses who’d taken time off wanted to put in their hours at the deli. That left her with time for working at The Treasure Chest.
Seeing that the store was in good hands, I decided to take a mini stay-cation.
I talked to Tommy for a little bit, but then I felt bored and restless. A nice walk on the beach seemed in order. What I wanted was a nearly deserted stretch of sand so I didn’t scare the natives. That jar of hand cream I’d selected for LaTisha was still in my purse. There was a public beach on Jupiter Island. On a weekday, it would probably be empty. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but I found myself turning south on A1A.
As Black Beauty hummed along, my mind was busy. First and foremost, I needed to decide what to with the information I’d learned about Cooper. Should I tell him that I knew what he was hiding? Would it make any difference? Probably not. However, I was eager to hear how he explained his involvement in an activity both illegal and immoral.
Next I thought about Jason. When we’d first met—when we stood there gawking at Kathy Simmons’ car—I figured him for a muscle bound macho man. Definitely not my type. Sure, being carried upstairs was the stuff that girlish dreams are made of, but I was still in love with Cooper. Or was I? The way Jason had treated me last night showed me a different side of the man. He’d been much more gentle and considerate than I would have ever imagined. Maybe I had dated enough bad boys for one lifetime. Maybe I should see what it was like to spend time with a younger man who wasn’t afraid to be kind and considerate.
Then there was Davidson. He wasn't as good looking as Jason, and he was older than I, but I liked him a lot. He made me feel secure. That seemed odd considering that it had been Jason who'd actually rescued me from Adrian Green. But still, I felt a certain sense of calm when Davidson was around. Maybe it was Davidson's maturity that appealed to me. Or the fact that his job lent him an aura of danger.
I reminded myself that I didn't have to make any decisions. You couldn't honestly say I was dating either man. However, I was pleased that they both were interested in me. Despite my lumps and bruises, I felt…desirable. And that was a new experience to me. My first husband, Dom, had used me as a stepping stone to a career in the restaurant industry. Cooper had been drawn to me because we were young, and that's how hormones work. Now I was a mature woman. I'd had a child. And I was independent. Jason and Davidson liked the woman I'd become, not the girl I'd once been. That alone was gratifying.
As I saw the signs for Hobe Sound, I started thinking about the house that Poppy owned on Jupiter Island. He’d said his renters had moved out and that it was currently empty. I wondered what it looked like. The island had its share of mansions, interspersed with older cottages and punctuated by one or two modern homes.
While I waited for the light at the corner of A1A and Bridge Road
, I texted Poppy and asked him for the address of his place. He messaged me right back. I was pleased to see that it was on the north side of the island. There are fewer homes there, and none of the celebrities have houses on that end.
When I hit the dead-end at the Hobe Sound Park, I turned left. Beach Road was dotted with small, white signs on metal legs thrust into the ground. Some had house numbers, some gave the property a name, and a few simply said, "Service." I inched along the street, looking for the number that Poppy had given me. Finally, I spotted a mold-covered sign tucked beneath a straggly oleander tree. The house was hidden from the street. I took a sharp right and drove through an archway of sea grapes. These ended abruptly as I came to a neat little white cottage.
I parked Black Beauty and stared. Something shifted inside me. I fell deeply in love with the place. At long last, I was home.
106
~Cara~
I spent a happy half hour poking around the outside of the vacant house. Because I didn’t have a key, all I could do was peer inside the windows. Cupping my hands around my face, I did just that. Red Santillo tiles covered the floor. Pecky Cypress covered the walls from a chair rail molding on down. Except for one bedroom in the back, all the rooms in the house faced the ocean. There was a second floor, but it was only half the size of the main floor. Whoever built this cottage had thoughtfully added lots of windows. Both the front and the back doors opened onto low decks. The ocean side of the house might or might not provide a view of the water. I couldn’t tell because the foliage was so overgrown. But you could definitely see the ocean from the second floor.
The mosquitoes and no see 'ums started biting me with a vengeance. I got in Black Beauty to leave, but I couldn’t get the grin off my face. Painful as that huge smile was, I felt positively elated. I just had to live in that little house! I wondered how much my grandfather would charge me to rent it. I'd have to find out.
Back on Beach Road, I took the turn that led to the Wentworths’ house. This time I chose the entrance marked “Service." I hoped I wouldn't run into Jenny Beth Wentworth. I pulled up next to a Suburban that had once been brown, but was now faded to a pastel by the sun. As I walked by it, I saw a worn Bible on the passenger seat. In the back were two baskets of un-ironed clothes. Proof to me that LaTisha was here and at work.
Pavers took me around to a side door that I figured would lead straight to the kitchen.
“What happened to you, child?” LaTisha took one look at me and ushered me in. “Girl, you look like some man beat on you,” she said, shaking her head.
“He did, but he got the worse end of the deal. Now he's in jail,” I said happily. I was in a terrific mood. Reaching in my purse, I pulled out the jar of hand cream. “This is for you. It’s a new line we’re carrying at my store. I was hoping you’d test it and tell me how you like it.”
“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” She examined it closely. Reaching deep in a pocket of her black dress, she brought out her glasses so she could look the jar over more carefully. “What a pretty package! How much do I owe you?”
“Not one thing. I hope it works on skin as damaged as yours. If you could report back to me, it would be payment enough.”
“Then what can I get you to eat? I’ve almost got Mrs. Wentworth’s breakfast ready. Can you sit and have a bite? She's sitting down to it late because the police were here. They turned this place upside down, but I don’t know what they were looking for.”
“I'd love to join you, but I better get back to the store,” I said. “I think I need another painkiller.”
“You poor baby. Does it hurt much?”
“Smiling is painful. Chewing is hard.” I gave a tiny "what are you going to do" gesture with my hands.
“Let me get you a bowl of my vegetable soup. I made a batch this morning. You can’t go away empty-handed. Especially when you've been so sweet to me.”
Her cooking was obviously a point of pride for her, and I love vegetable soup, so I accepted. She spooned a gracious amount into a Tupperware container. Then she reached inside the refrigerator and pulled out a pan of cornbread. As she wrapped a big chunk in foil, I could smell the wonderful sweet aroma.
"You best better have a plastic bag to put this in, in case the soup spills." She opened a cabinet door and searched inside. “Where are those things? That’s right. In my car.”
I walked with her to the Suburban. With a key click, she opened the vehicle's hatchback and fished around inside. “Here,” she said. From a basketball-sized mess of plastic bags, she withdrew one.
“LaTisha, this is going to sound like a weird question.”
“What?” Her smile lit up her warm brown eyes.
“How many plastic bags do you have in your trunk, and where did they come from?”
107
~Lou~
10 a.m. on Wednesday
Stuart Police Department
“Just got off the phone with the authorities up in Gainesville,” Lou said, after a polite tap on the door to Police Captain Davidson’s office. “Care to hear what I learned?”
“Have a seat.” Davidson gestured to an empty chair across from his desk. "I have new information, too. Got some ideas about where to look for our murder weapon."
“Good,” said Lou. "Okay, earlier this morning a librarian helped me do a little research on Brownie cameras. Millions were sold back in the 1950s and 60s, the heyday of family road trips. But road trips weren't likely with the Eberly clan. You’ll remember that's Mrs. Simmons' maiden name. Her full name is Mary Eberly Simmons. I talked to the police department and social services up in Gainesville about Mary Eberly. They didn’t have much. She is clean, but she’s led a 'hard knock life,' to put it mildly. Walter Eberly, her daddy, was a drunk. Several DWIs on record. Couldn’t keep a job. Mary was the second girl in a family with six kids. Four boys, two girls. Mrs. Eberly registered the family with a charity roster at the local Presbyterian Church. It was a struggle to keep food on the table. Wallace was the oldest. One of the locals remembers Wallace doing odd jobs to keep food on the table. As a consequence, he was picked up for truancy. Of course, the family didn’t have enough money to hire a lawyer. A judge sentenced Wallace to two years at Dozier. He never came back.”
Davidson didn’t say anything for the longest time. Then finally, “So basically Wallace got kicked to the curb. His father wasn’t sober long enough to care. His mother was without resources. The social safety net failed him. Because he tried to man up and take care of his siblings, he was sentenced to two years in a boys’ reform school for incorrigible kids.”
“And then he died,” said Lou.
“And then he died.” Davidson shook his head. “Makes you sick, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to help people when they’re in over their heads, not stand on their shoulders and hold their faces under water!”
“It certainly explains why Mrs. Simmons didn’t want anything to do with me, once she found out I was a law enforcement officer.”
“No kidding,” said Davidson, shaking his head. “It’s becoming clearer and clearer that Kathy Simmons found a way to connect the dots that linked her uncle, Dozier, and the Senator's illicit activities. What I want is to establish Jenny Beth's culpability. We know she was involved, but how? Our only alternative is to launch a witch hunt and try to find other boys who were molested by our late Senator. They'd be grown men now. Maybe they’re ready to share what happened."
“If they are still alive,” said Lou.
“Right." Davidson inhaled deeply and shook his head. "As much as I’d like to explore that angle, a search of that magnitude would take time and resources we don't have.”
“It also takes our focus away from the Senator’s murder,” said Lou.
“You’re right,” agreed Davidson. “And that’s our prime directive. Have you printed up all the files that Kathy put in cloud storage? No? Let’s do that first. We need to review them. Maybe there’s something in there that we can use as leverage. We can divide up
the paperwork. It’ll go faster with two sets of eyes.”
Davidson tapped a few buttons, and his printer sprang to life. “This darned machine prints things in reverse order, so it’s always a challenge to figure out what’s what,” he said, as he handed a bunch of loose papers to Lou.
Lou tamped the stack against the desktop, as he tried to force them into some semblance of order. A few pages were unruly. Lou finally gave in and held the whole wodge on his lap, straightening them one at a time. That’s when he saw it. This particular sheet of paper stuck out because it was handwritten. He glanced at the first page and skimmed the contents. Then he handed what he’d read over to Davidson. “I think this is what we're looking for.”
Dear Sissy,
I hope you get this. Please don’t worry about me! You asked me to tell you that I was okay, and I am. There’s a man who visits here, and he picks a boy to go home with him and be his special friend for a day or two. A week ago he picked me. I was real happy because he has a nice wife, who is pretty, and she smells like flowers. She promised me lots of food to eat. The man told me to call him Joe. They have a brand new blue Bonneville with a leather top. I got to sit up in front. They took me to a cabin that they own near here. It was real pretty. Out in the woods, by a lake. I thought we might go fishing. But then his wife said she’d leave us alone so we boys could get to be friends. She took a walk. I didn’t like the way Joe touched me, but he promised me lots of candy. Then he hurt me, and I cried a little and asked him to stop, but he said he could tell that I really liked what he had done. A little later, she came back. She made us dinner. We had ham slices, sweet potatoes, corn, and lots of iced tea. Then they drove me back to Dozier. One of the big bosses here has a new Brownie camera. He took a picture of me and PeeWee with my new friend. Joe said he wants to play with me again. I don’t want to. But I don’t think I have a choice.
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 124
