Daiquiri Dock Murder (29 page)

“Thanks, but no. Let’s get to bed.”

Threnody carried my overnight bag, and I followed her upstairs, listening to the creaks and groans of the seldom-used steps, feeling the old treads dip to the center. When we entered the third floor bedroom, Threnody unfolded a luggage rack and laid my bag on it before she flung open a window to admit a light breeze.

“Shut it in a few minutes, if you feel too cool, Rafa. We keep this floor closed most of the time. It needs to air out, but the bed’s made and ready for use. Guess I have Dolly take care of the beds like you take care of your fishing tackle. Want them to be ready at a moment’s notice—even this one.”

Pine paneling covered both the walls and the ceiling of the room, giving it a special charm of its own, charm that no wallpaper or paint could match. Once Threnody closed the door, I dropped the bolt hanging from a chain through the hasp, changed into my sleep shirt and eased onto the bed. Both the mattress and the pillow felt soft and comfortable. I tried to relax.

After such a long, hard day, fishing with Kane, talking with Snipe Gross, working and falling at The Frangi, I thought I’d drop off to sleep immediately. But no. I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to some night bird calling into the silence. Mourning doves. Do they mourn at night? I didn’t count sheep. Instead, I counted the many questions still plaguing my mind concerning Diego’s murder.

The blue line tying Diego’s feet matched the blue line on Kane’s boat. The blue line on Kane’s boat had disappeared. A normal thing, right? A normal thing for Kane to get rid of anything that might tie him to Diego’s death.

Much as I tried to forget my plunge from the balcony, it loomed in my mind, preventing sleep. Someone had deliberately called me, intending for me to fall—to my death. Had the laundry ladies not been working on the laundry room balcony two floors below, I might not be lying sleepless tonight. Who wanted me out of the way? I shuddered when I thought of the threatening call I’d received and then my fall in The Frangi tonight. Someone thought I was getting too close to exposing Diego’s killer. But how could that be? Tonight I felt as far from knowing the murderer’s identity as I did the morning after I found Diego’s body in the sea. Pablo? Kane? Brick? Jessie? I refused to add Threnody and Dolly to the list.

Putting those memories from my mind, I thought again about the bell that had once been on Kane’s boat years ago, the bell that now hung at Brick’s front door. Was that a clue to the killer’s identity, or was it merely a result of Brick’s fondness of antiques? I wished now I’d asked him where he got the bell. Many times he liked to tell the history associated with his artifacts.

Too many puzzles. Too few solutions. Just as I felt myself beginning to fall asleep, I heard a car door slam. On my Prius? On Threnody’s Caddi? I bolted upright. No mistake. The sound had carried through the open window. I eased from bed and tip-toed to the window. My car keys glinted in the moonlight that fell on my bedside table where I’d left them before I turned out the lamp. Nobody could get in my car. Maybe Threnody hadn’t locked the Caddi. I peered out the window, looking down at the two cars.

Nothing moved. No sound broke the quiet. Even the night bird remained silent. What had disturbed it?
Watch your back.
Words from the telephone threat did a re-run in my mind. Tonight I translated them to
watch your car.
In all the fuss about hosing down my fishing rod, maybe I forgot to click on the door lock.

I continued to watch. I continued to hear nothing. But I had to know for sure that I’d locked my car doors. Key West is noted for attracting a high population of the world’s homeless. I didn’t want any of them sleeping in my car—or Threnody’s.

Easing to the bedside table, I picked up my car keys, padded back to the window and pushed the lock button. The lock clicked. The car’s lights flashed for an instant. So! I had left it unlocked. But maybe the lights would flash even if I pushed the lock twice. I’d never found reason to think about that. I pushed the unlock button and heard the door unlock, saw the lights flash. Then I locked it again. No matter that I hadn’t had the emergency button repaired. The sound of the lock and the flash of light should scare off prowlers.

In reading books, I always laughed when the story’s endangered heroine stepped into some dark and dangerous place where she was almost sure to be accosted, raped, or killed. Now I contemplated playing the part of the endangered heroine in my own story. I needed to creep downstairs, step into Threnody’s back yard, and make sure both cars were okay—and locked.

No. I wouldn’t be so dumb. I’d wake Threnody. After I told her what I’d seen and heard, we’d go downstairs together to check on our cars. Threnody would want to make sure her car was locked.

I undid the hasp, stepped into the narrow hallway and approached Threnody’s alcove. The breeze caused by the opened door molded my sleep shirt to my body. No time now to think about sleep shirts. I tapped gently on the alcove door, wanting to make no noise that might carry outside and alert an intruder.

No response.

Although I hated to, I knocked louder. Hairs rose on my nape and I only waited a few seconds before I turned the door knob, opened the door.

No Threnody. The bed lay empty, yet I’d heard no one leave the room. No footsteps on the creaky stair treads. Had I fallen asleep unaware I’d been sleeping and dreaming? No. I couldn’t believe that.

“Threnody?” I whispered. No answer. Maybe she’d gone to the bathroom.

“Threnody?” I spoke louder, but still no response.

Now, unmindful of the need for silence, I hurried on down the stairs, forgetting about my injured leg. When I reached the kitchen, I snapped on a light. No Threnody. I opened the back door.

Silence. Not even a mosquito hummed in my ear. No dove mourned.

“Threnody?” Again, I whispered her name. Running to my car, I jerked on the driver’s side door. Although I’d just locked it from upstairs, the door opened and the dome light flashed on. Glancing into the back seat, I stifled a scream.

Chapter 36

“Threnody!” Forgetting any need for silence, I shrieked her name, then clamped my jaws, gritted my teeth, squelched screams.

Threnody lay face down with her head on an old pillow I’d thrown into the back seat that morning before going fishing. For a few crazy moments, I thought she might be sleeping in my car. Wishful thinking!

Her long satin gown clung to her upper body wrinkled and twisted, revealing skin from buttocks to ankles. The slipper from her left foot had dropped onto the floor of the car. The right slipper remained in place. Her long hair lay splayed over the pillow and onto the car seat. At first I didn’t notice the length of blue line double-wrapped around her throat.

Pulled tight.

Knotted.

Tail ends falling down her back, peeking from under her hair.

I wiped away tears although I hadn’t realized I was crying.

Blue line. I couldn’t see her face, nor did I want to. Like Kane, I’d watched too many
Law and Order
reruns. I wanted to remember Threnody as she looked earlier tonight at The Frangi.

My squelched screams gave way to a more urgent need to vomit. I choked back the bitter gorge rising in my throat. Heat flooded my face at the same time my fingers and toes grew icy cold. I wanted to back away, to retreat from the scene, but I couldn’t force my feet into action. Vomit flooded the carpet of my car, then trailed in yellow/brown strings to the seat cover. I wiped my chin on the tail of my night shirt.

In my heart I knew Threnody lay dead, yet she might be alive. I remembered thinking the same thing about Diego a few days ago. He might have been alive. Since Diego’s death, Threnody and I enjoyed strong bonds of friendship. I had to make sure there was nothing I could do to help her. Maybe I could loosen the garrote around her neck. Why had she come to my car? Who had done this to her? Who had left her like this?

Once reality began to pierce my brain, near panic set in. Where was Threnody’s killer? Was I next on his list? In spite of my gut feeling, my gut desire to put distance between myself and Threnody, I eased onto the back seat beside her body, closed and locked the door and then leaned forward to push the button that would lock all the doors.

“Threnody?” I spoke softly at first, as if I might wake her from needed sleep.

No answer. In my heart I hadn’t expected a reply.

“Threnody.” I spoke louder, waited a few seconds, and then in the next moment I shouted her name and shook her shoulder. “Threnody! Threnody! Speak to me.”

Although I hadn’t touched my car key, the door locks clicked and someone opened the driver’s seat door. Who? At first I couldn’t tell. Friend? Foe? He wore jeans and a tank top, and he kept his face turned from me.

“We’re going for a little ride, Rafa.”

Pablo! When had he found my car key? When? How? Before he could start the engine, I opened the back door wide, stepped onto the ground and began to run. Where to go? I headed around the house. Maybe I could hide where he couldn’t find me. Hide where? At first I saw no place to hide. Then I spied a palm thicket at the side of the house and slipped under some low-hanging fronds. I sucked in air. Mentally, I ordered the palm fronds to silence and stillness. They obeyed. Only the whisper of a breeze caused a slight motion of the fronds.

Safe! At least for a moment. But the respite lasted only a few scant seconds. Pablo rounded the corner of the mansion and headed my way. Forcing myself to hold my breath, my lungs felt close to exploding as I played statue and didn’t move an eyelash.

Pablo passed my hiding place and kept jogging toward the front veranda. I couldn’t see him, and thinking he must have reached the porch, I slunk from behind the palm thicket. This time I stepped into the grass beside the path and padded toward the front lane, knowing he would hear my footsteps if I broke into a run. Walking gave me time to catch my breath. The stabbing pain in my side eased.

Maybe I could make it down that long lane to the street. Maybe I could flag down a car once I reached the pavement. At this time of night? Forget that! I started running. It was my only chance.

No! Not my only chance. Use your brain, woman! Call Kane on you cell. No. I’d left my phone upstairs in the house. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Again, my lungs felt on fire. I couldn’t get my breath. I felt as if someone had tired a rope just above my waist. I gasped for air and then sharp pain hit low in my left groin. Surely someone must be jabbing a knife above my crotch. Jabbing and twisting.

I’d almost reached the street when I heard Pablo behind me. I hated giving in to him, but I saw no other choice. He threw himself at me, knocking me to the ground. Blood began to trickle down my leg again.

“Stand up, Rafa! Stand!”

“I can’t. I can’t.”

“Stand. On your feet right now! Don’t scream!”

I screamed.

“I guess a few screams won’t make any difference. There’s nobody around to hear you.”

Pablo linked his left arm through my right arm and yanked me close to his side. Turning us around, he forced me to walk with him back toward the car.

Chapter 37

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Threnody. What have you done to her?”

“You gone blind? I think you saw what I did to her.”

“She’s dead.” I didn’t expect an argument. Pablo offered none. Had he gone mad? Was he bringing to life a scene predicted in the Tarot cards?

“You’re not going to get away with this, Pablo. First Diego. Now Threnody.”

“And next, you. And of course I’ll get away with it. I’ve made careful plans.”

I had to keep him talking. “So you admit you killed Diego?”

“Had to. Learned that he and two of his buddy commissioners planned to vote against building a hotel at the marina, and in this case they formed a majority.”

“The gang of three?”

Pablo gave a bitter laugh. “Gang of Three! That’s nothing but a political cliché. On any committee there’s usually a majority. Could be a gang of five, seven, nine.”

“You were sure that’s how they planned to vote?”

“At the time I felt sure of it. I wanted to see that hotel built.”

“Wanted it enough to murder your own father?”

“We had our differences—money differences.”

“What difference would the hotel have meant to you, with your dad dead?”

“I planned to let Brick build the hotel and insist that he appoint me as manager.”

“Fat chance of that happening. Jessie’s the one who’ll get that job.” Pablo was out of his mind, but I had to keep our conversation going.

“Who’s to say? It’s too late now for Dad’s vote to count. The other two commissioners will vote in any way that’s politically convenient for them at the moment. Without Dad’s leadership and influence, I doubt they can pull enough strings to get the hotel vote to go his way when the matter comes up before the commissioners again.”

“So what’s the point in these needless murders?” I yanked on my arm to see if he’d tighten his grip. He did.

“The point is that I plan to run for Dad’s place on the board of commissioners. I think people will vote for me. Son of the victim. I’ll work on a tear-jerker act. Many people will feel it their duty to show their respect for Dad by voting for his son. And once I’m on the commission, I’ll have influence on the ROGO.”