Pier Pressure (31 page)

“You'd have a fit if we went without you.” Nikko smiled and I nodded in agreement.

“Otto lives on Fleming Street,” Nikko said, “but I'm not sure of the house.”

“I've scribbled it right on this suspect list.” Punt checked the address.

“Should we telephone him first?” Nikko asked.

“No way.” Punt stuffed the list in his pocket. “Private eyes simply appear on the scene—tough guys demanding answers.”

“Works for me.” Nikko grinned and jingled his car keys.

“Will you take Moose?” Moose pricked up his ears at the sound of his name.

“Not this time.” Nikko tossed Moose a doggie treat. “Otto finds Moose very intimidating. Remember the memorial service? We'll leave Moose here to guard the office.”

In view of possible parking problems, we left the Karmann Ghia at the office and rode with Nikko in his old Ford. The Fleming Street address turned out to be only a couple of blocks from the public library where there's a small parking lot for patrons. However, we resisted the temptation to infringe on library property.

“Gotta be law abiding now that we're in the P.I. business,” Nikko said.

We drove on until Punt nodded toward Otto's address. “There's his house, and there's enough space to park in his driveway. We'll be leaving soon.”

“It's worth a try. If someone arrives demanding the space, we can move.”

“Want me to go to the door first?” I sounded braver than I felt.

“It's a plan.” Nikko killed the motor and we filed along a narrow sidewalk and then up the porch steps. I lifted an antique brass knocker and let it fall. No response. I knocked again. Still no response. We were about to turn and leave when Shandy called to us from behind the fence at the side of the house, finger combing her hair and clutching a swimsuit cover-up to her wet body.

“Over here, Keely. I was in the pool.”

“Sorry to interrupt your swim,” I said. “Got the afternoon off?”

“Yeah, I'm free until the dinner hour. What can I do for you?”

“We're here to talk to Otto,” Punt said.

Punt continued to explain our mission, but I stared at Shandy's face. Mr. Moore had a keen eye. Now that the pool water had washed away some of her makeup, I saw the barely visible scar near her left eye. Could it be possible? Could this shy woman be the bank robber wanted in North Dakota? Highly unlikely, I thought. I tried to remember how long she'd lived in Key West, but I couldn't pinpoint a date.

“Come on, Keely.” Punt reached for my hand, tugging me toward the car. “Didn't you hear what she said? Otto's out right now.”

“Thanks, Shandy,” Nikko called as we left.

“Where is he?” I wanted to blurt Mr. Moore's suspicions about Shandy, but I held back, not quite knowing why. Maybe I was thinking of my own plight, wanting to find a murder suspect with no alibi, someone to divert police attention.

“I think Otto may be at The Wharf.”
Nikko started the Ford and backed from the driveway. “He hangs out there at the bar. A regular. Sometimes when I finish up in the kitchen I drive him home if he's had too many gins. He doesn't want Shandy to know he's been drinking. Booze sets poorly with his medications.”

“How can she help knowing?” I asked.

“Maybe she knows and pretends to look the other way,” Punt said. “Wives have been known to do that.”

I wondered if Punt was alluding to the way I'd suffered Jude's indignities, preferring to look the other way rather than to take action on my own behalf. Nobody elaborated on Punt's comment and we drove on. Nikko grinned as he pulled boldly into the parking slot marked CHEF.

“This's going to be hard to give up.”

“You're not giving it up, remember? Fotopoulos & Ashford
need you here to keep up on the chatter.”

“Yeah. Right. I keep forgetting.”

Even at mid-afternoon The Wharf
dining room and bar served many customers. In the time since Mr. Moore and I had eaten breakfast here early this morning, someone had hung a lavender banner bearing the words: “CONGRATULATIONS JASS” above the doorway. Jass's blue ribbon from the Miami show now hung under the banner. Beneath it a small sign read: “Hibiscus Plants courtesy of Ashford Greenhouse, Jass Ashford, proprietor.”

I smiled and waved to Beau and Jass sitting with a group of friends casually lingering over coffee.
Beautiful
. I silently mouthed the word to Jass as I motioned to the plants that ringed the room on their rattan pedestals. She beckoned us to her table, but Nikko led us directly to the bar where Otto perched on a leather-padded bar stool sipping a drink and looking forlorn.

“We need to talk with you, Otto.” Nikko pulled up a barstool and sat beside Otto. Punt and I stood in silence, waiting.

“Talk what about?” Otto asked.

Nikko showed Otto his new business card. “Punt and I are investigating Margaux Ashford's murder. We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Otto squinted more carefully at the business card. “This something new?”

“Very new,” Punt said.

“Want no part of your questions.” Otto hunched closer to his drink.

“You need to talk with us.” Nikko pushed Otto's drink out of his reach. “We're trying to help you.”

“Help me to prison? Ha!” Otto retrieved his drink and took another sip.

“Help keep you out of prison,” Punt said. “What were you doing last Saturday night?”

“Don't remember. Don't remember anything about last Saturday night. Your questions won't help me remember something I can't remember.”

“Maybe we should go someplace else to discuss this,” Nikko said. “Will you come with us to our new office?”

“No. I'm staying right here.”

“How about coming to my office?” I asked, remembering Otto's fear of Moose. “You wouldn't mind talking to us there, would you?”

Otto looked at me for the first time and gave me a tentative smile. “Hello, Keely. What're you doing with these two guys?”

“They're my friends, Otto. They're your friends, too. Please come with us and let us try to help you.”

“You always help me, Keely.” Otto slipped from the bar stool and took my arm. Nikko and Punt exchanged pleased glances as they led the way to Nikko's car. We drove quickly to my office, parking in back and entering through the rear door.

“You give me a foot treatment now?” Otto asked.

I started to say no, but Punt signaled me to agree to the treatment. Why not? The treatments relaxed Otto, made him feel better. Maybe in his relaxed state he would tell us what we needed to know. I had mixed feelings about this talk with Otto. I couldn't help hoping he had no alibi, hoping he couldn't remember a thing about Saturday night. That would make two of us who couldn't prove what we were doing at the time of Margaux's murder. If Otto did come up with a provable alibi, that'd focus more police attention on me—unless Shandy's alibi turned out to be a lie.

I thought more about Shandy's alibi. Was walking on the pier and seeing the lights at Ashford Mansion
really an alibi that'd protect her? Nobody saw her on that pier. The lights on the widow's walk invited anybody's gaze. Shandy had no way of proving she'd been looking at them. Maybe there'd be three suspects with no alibis.

I prepared a footbath for Otto, adding the relaxing scent of lime as the warm water swished around his feet. Once he seemed comfortable, I hurried to my apartment, grabbed my tape recorder, and clicked it on as I dropped it into my pocket. Moments later I offered Otto a lavender-scented towel to dry his feet and then helped him into the contour chair. He settled in comfortably, and I eased a pillow beneath his head so he'd be looking directly at me as I worked. Before I could say anything, Punt spoke.

“Otto, please try to remember last Saturday night. Maybe it'd help to try to focus on what you'd been doing during the day.”

“Don't want to talk to you.” Otto jerked his foot from my grasp as I tried to massage it with scented oil. “Keely's giving me a reflexology treatment. This session's between Keely and me. Private.”

Punt shrugged and backed away, but Nikko spoke up. “We're here to help you, Otto. Please cooperate with us.”

“Why should I? Give me reasons why I should. No, don't bother to give reasons. Leave me alone until Keely finishes, then I'll go home. Don't need you two guys pestering me with questions.”

Now both Punt and Nikko backed off.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked.

“No. Can't drink anything lying in this chair.”

I rolled my eyes toward Gram's shop and Nikko took the hint. In moments he returned with two cups of espresso. I laid Otto's foot aside, stepped behind the chair, and took the cups from Nikko. Then facing Otto again, I showed him the espresso and handed him a cup. With my free hand I raised the chair in a way that let him sit upright.

“Let's both try some espresso, Otto. It's Gram's special. Let's relax and enjoy it for a few minutes, then I'll return to the reflexology treatment.” I burnt my tongue on the first sip of the brew, but I didn't let on. “How have you been feeling lately? Are your shoulders and back still giving you pain?”

“Some days are better than others.”

Otto sipped his espresso quickly. although I could still see it steaming, between sips. I set mine aside and went to my apartment for an ice cube to cool my mouth. When I returned, Otto wanted to resume the treatment so I readjusted his chair. I could feel the crystalline deposits break up between his toes, but he didn't jerk away.

“Otto, I want you to talk to me about last Saturday night. You'll be helping me. You know I'm a suspect in the Ashford case, too.”

“All right. If I can, I'll answer questions to help us both, right?”

“Right. Do you own a gun, Otto?”

“Yes. I own a gun and it's registered in my name. It's legal. No way anyone can say my gun is illegal.”

“Do you know how to shoot it?”

“Yes. Back east I went to target practice. People called me a good shot.”

“Have you ever been in my office alone?”

Otto thought for a moment before he answered. “No. You've always been present when I've been here. How else would I get a treatment?”

“Did you know I had a gun in my bottom desk drawer?”

“You're kidding me. What would a nice girl like you be doing with a gun?”

“Nikko thought I needed one for protection.”

“Oh. Protection from that Cardell fellow, I suppose.”

“Right. Gram thought I needed the gun, too. So I bought one and I learned to shoot it. Otto, do you remember taking your medication, your pills, on Saturday?”

“Can't remember. Shandy lays them out for me each day. I take what she lays out.”

“Were they gone on Saturday?”

“They were, but pills and booze don't mix. I can't remember anything about Saturday night.”

I finished Otto's foot treatment and released him from the chair. He started to pay me, but I shook my head.

“This one's on me, Otto.” I doubted that any of Otto's recorded words would be of use to us, but before we left my office I removed the tape and dropped it into my desk drawer, then I installed a fresh tape and dropped the recorder back into my pocket.

We drove Otto home, and as we pulled up, Shandy came outside, ready to get into her car. “Thanks for bringing him home, people. I appreciate it.”

“You're welcome, Shandy.” Punt pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her.

Shandy looked at the card and took a quick step away from us. “What's this supposed to mean?”

“Just what it says,” Punt said. “Nikko and I have opened a detective agency and we've been hired to investigate Margaux's murder.”

“Hired to investigate me?” Shandy took another step back.

“Hired to investigate anyone who had motive and opportunity to kill Margaux. You're one of the suspects we need to talk to, Shandy.”

“I don't understand why. Don't understand it at all.”

“Will you talk to us about it?” Nikko stepped forward. “It'll be easier talking to us than talking to the police. You heard the points the lawyer brought out concerning Margaux's will. We all benefit from her will—all of us.”

“She didn't leave me a thing.” Bitterness tinged Shandy's voice and I wondered if she thought Margaux should have left her a bequest, and if so, why.

“Once the lawyers settle the estate, you'll benefit as Otto's wife,” Punt said.

Shandy gave us a weak smile and her attitude changed. She pocketed Punt's business card and started to walk on toward her car. “When would you like to talk to me? I'm working tonight, but I'll be free tomorrow morning.”

“That'll be soon enough,” Nikko said. “Will you come to our office? Around nine o'clock?”

“I'll be there,” Shandy promised.

Would she? I wondered. Did she think her flimsy alibi would hold up in a court of law? I searched her face again. The heart-shaped scar had disappeared, and I remembered my promise to Mr. Moore to call him if I discovered anything new about Shandy. I'd keep that promise. As soon as Punt drove me home, I'd give Mr. Moore a call. The news might mean nothing to him. Or again, it might mean a lot.

Thirty-Two

ONCE SHANDY DROVE away, Punt, Nikko, and I drove toward their new office and I told them both about Mr. Moore's suspicions concerning Shandy.

“I didn't see any scar,” Punt said.

“Me either.” Nikko honked his horn, narrowly missing a moped rider.

“You didn't notice it because you had no reason to be looking for it,” I said. “I saw it when Shandy greeted us, coming straight from the pool, but by the time we brought Otto home, she'd repaired her makeup. The scar didn't show. Guys, I think we've found the person who shot Margaux. We're all in danger. Shouldn't we go to the police?”