Pier Pressure (33 page)

We both jumped back and brushed ourselves off a bit, laughing at our foolishness. I tasted salt spray on my tongue, but in a moment that taste vanished in the sweeter taste of Punt's lips. With great reluctance I eased from his embrace.

“Punt, this place scares me. Let's remember why we came here.”

“I came here to kiss you.”

“You know what I mean. First things first.”

“Oh, you mean we look for the lights, then I can kiss you later, right?”

I wanted to agree with him and my laugh gave me away. “Right now, we're here to look at the lights.”

So we looked. We counted. Ashford Mansion
stood far from the White Street Pier, yet its great height made it visible. “I see only the five lights on one side of the widow's walk. Think about it, Punt. You can't see two sides of that tower from this angle. There's no way Shandy could have seen Jass's one green light because it's on the side away from us.”

“So she made the whole story up.” Punt sighed and pulled me closer. “Somehow that doesn't surprise me.”

“You think Shandy's the guilty one?”

“I can't say that. I don't think anyone can prove guilt based on the fact that she lied about seeing the lights, or the fact that she may have a scar beside her eye.”

“I know she has the scar. I saw it. Mr. Moore saw it.”

“Nikko and I didn't notice it. I'll be looking for it tomorrow when she comes to our office.”

“She'll be expecting you to be looking for it. She'll have it well hidden under makeup.”

“You women are a tricky bunch. Let's forget about Shandy tonight. Nikko and I'll deal with her in the morning. You promised to have dinner with me tonight, and I've promised you a romantic setting. But there's been a change in plans. I have a surprise for you.”

Thirty-Three

PUNT DROVE US back to Ashford Mansion
and parked in his carport. Only a few dim lights glowed from the main house.

“Forget something?” I asked, settling more comfortably in my seat.

“This's the surprise. We're dining here tonight and I'll be the chef—the chief cook and bottle washer.”

“Nikko's been giving you lessons?”

“No way. No grape leaves, Greek truffles, or ouzo this evening. We're having Punt Ashford specials, but I have to admit that Jass pulled the dessert from her freezer. Pastries are beyond me.”

Punt led the way up the stairs to his apartment and I inhaled the mingled fragrance of herbs and spices and sauces I couldn't identify. Chili? Garlic? My mouth began to water immediately. Once inside, I noticed he had slanted the window louvers upward to insure privacy and I liked that. My accents of green fit in well with the green jewel-toned cushions on his couch and chairs, and now I noticed his green silk shirt. Maybe he'd done some color planning as he dressed, too.

“All this looks like a picture from
Better Homes and Gardens,
Punt. I'm overwhelmed.”

“As I'd hoped you'd be. And you haven't even tasted the food yet.” Punt grinned and I knew my reaction had pleased him. “Sit down and relax while I play both waiter and chef. What would you like for an appetizer? I hope you'll like Yellow Birds and baked brie with almonds and chutney.”

I smiled at the delicious choices. “Sounds wonderful.”

After a few moments in the kitchen Punt set a plate of baked brie on the coffee table, along with a shallow bowl of sesame seed crackers, then he brought us each a cocktail glass of Yellow Birds served over ice. I tried the crackers and brie first, savoring the exotic flavor before sipping my drink. The blend of orange and pineapple juice offered a perfect chaser for the brie and chutney.

“Delicious, Punt. Really outstanding.”

“In case you're worrying, I've mixed the Yellow Birds without rum and with only a smidgen of crème de banana.”

“I wasn't worried.” We enjoyed our drinks until we emptied our glasses and demolished the plate of brie and most of the crackers. “Wonderful fare, Punt.”

“Enjoy another drink while I put the finishing touches on our meal.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No. Relax and enjoy being my guest of honor.”

That's what I did, and one Yellow Bird later Punt invited me to the dining area. An overhead lamp dazzled me as it gleamed against the glass-top table, the gold-rimmed china, and the crystal bowl bearing a single lavender hibiscus blossom.

“Beautiful. You have an artist's eye for color and design.”

Punt took my compliments in stride as he served shrimp scampi and new potato and walnut salad laced with a vinaigrette dressing. The meal looked beautiful and, if tastes can be beautiful, it tasted beautiful.

“Where did you learn to cook? You've surely had lessons.”

“Mom used to let me mess around in the kitchen. Jass never showed any interest in cooking and I reveled in Mom's attention.”

“It paid off well. I had no idea you indulged in such a secret hobby.”

“I could show you other secrets, too.” Punt winked and offered me more shrimp.

When neither of us could eat another bite, I eased my chair from the table. “Could we save the dessert for later? I know it'll be delicious, but I'm already operating on overload right now.”

Punt stood and bowed dramatically. “As you wish, Madam.” In spite of his protests I helped Punt clear the table.

“Take care with the china, please. It's antique and it's been in the family for generations. One of my sea captain ancestors salvaged it from a galleon that went down on the reef. Jass has an account of the wreck written up in the ship's log.”

“I'd like to read about it sometime.”

“You probably have. I think Dad copied the excerpt and presented it in one of his columns. Family history. Key West history.”

I insisted that we do the dishes by hand rather than entrusting them to the dishwasher with its harsh detergent. I washed and Punt dried.

“I like this scene, Keely. We work well together. Think about it for future reference, okay?”

I enjoyed working with Punt in the kitchen, but I wasn't ready to admit it so easily. When we had returned the dishes to their cupboards, Punt tuned in some easy listening music and we sat on the couch to talk. Of course the conversation zeroed in on the new detective agency and on Otto and Shandy.

“One minute I think Otto's guilty,” I said. “Inheriting ten million with the pull of a trigger must have played through his mind, but the next minute all the clues seem to point to Shandy.”

“Maybe they were in it together.”

“Sometimes I think I can sense Shandy following me.”

“Big imagination, Keely. Big imagination.”

“I'm not convinced it's my imagination. I know how it feels to be followed and spied upon, but I thought that feeling would disappear once Jude…”

“We don't have enough evidence to pinpoint Shandy's guilt.”

“Why would she give me a false alibi if she didn't have something to hide?”

Punt pulled me closer. “She could have lots of reasons. We'll have to find out what they are before we point a finger of guilt at her. What about Otto? Only presidents can get by with the ‘can't remember' line.”

“Shandy's scar,” I said, trying to pull the conversation back to Shandy. “I remember that scar.”

“The scar only you and Mr. Moore have noticed. Nikko and I haven't seen it—and believe me we've been looking carefully ever since you mentioned it.”

I let my head rest on Punt's shoulder before I spoke again. “There's another thing to consider. You may say I've been reading too many mystery novels, but I've read that a person choosing an alias frequently selects a name with the same initials as his real name.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Mr. Moore said the bank robber's name is Sally Mitchell. Shandy's name was Mertz before she married Otto. Shandy Mertz. Sally Mitchell. It fits.”

Punt didn't laugh this time. “That's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it?”

“I say it's more than a coincidence. The more I think about it, the more Shandy scares me. A person who kills once…”

“I know, I know.” Punt kissed me lightly on the forehead. “Don't remind me. Maybe we do have strong reason to suspect Shandy.”

“And another thing…”

“How many more another things can you come up with?”

“This one may upset you, Punt. I didn't mean to go behind your back—or Nikko's, but I couldn't resist trying to telephone Mr. Moore. I promised him. I promised him a call if I noticed anything suspicious about Shandy. I did notice something and I did call.”

“What'd he say? Will he fly back down here and check her out—maybe bring his hometown investigators with him?”

“We've been too distracted by Margaux's death to notice national news broadcasts—especially on the weather channel. I couldn't get in touch with Mr. Moore because a blizzard's howling in North Dakota. All phone lines are down and no calls are going through. At least that was true this afternoon.”

“So let's try again. Got his number handy?”

“No. We'll have to dial directory assistance.” It irritated me that I didn't have Mr. Moore's phone number at hand, but it pleased me that Punt now wanted to call him, to talk to him. When we had his phone number, Punt dialed and we waited.

At last the operator responded. “Sorry. Phone lines in both South and North Dakota are down.”

“Any chance of them opening up any time soon?” Punt asked.

“Sorry, but I haven't got that information to give out officially,” the operator said, “but I do have relatives in North Dakota and I hear there's a slight possibility of the lines being open late today or tomorrow.”

“Guess we'll just have to watch the weather channel,” Punt said. “Thanks for the info.”

We settled back into a loose embrace on the sofa. “So that's that as far as calling Mr. Moore's concerned.” We sat quietly for sometime before Punt spoke again.

“Keely, think carefully. Think back to that terrible Sunday morning when you found Margaux's body. Do you remember anything, any small thing, you haven't told me or the police about? Your mind must have been in a whirl, but think back to that morning. Try to forget about Margaux and think about details.”

I rose and began to pace the room as I thought back to that day. At last I shook my head and I'd started to say no when I glanced again at Punt's dinner table. We'd cleared away all the dishes except the centerpiece, the crystal bowl holding the hibiscus blossom. In that moment I remembered, remembered something that might be important. Or it might be nothing.

“What is it? I can see in your eyes that you've recalled something.”

“Yes, but…” At first I hesitated, then the words came tumbling out. “That Sunday morning I was running late. As I hurried up the steps to Margaux's door, I noticed a hibiscus blossom lying on the top step. I love flowers and I hated to see the blossom lying where it might be destroyed by a footstep, so I picked it up and tucked it into a buttonhole of my jumpsuit.”

“What color blossom?” Punt stood facing me, his eyes boring into mine. “What color?”

“A lavender blossom. Lavender hibiscus.”

“Dad had no lavender plants at that time. Jass's hibiscus experiment was still top secret—a secret from everyone except the judges at the Miami show.”

“A secret between Jass and Shandy. They were the only two people who had access to Jass's greenhouse, and Jass has an alibi for Saturday night. Punt, Shandy dropped that blossom on the porch.”

“Hmmm.” Punt turned and walked to the window. “Hmmm.”

“I know it, Punt. I know it. In Shandy's haste to leave the murder scene, the blossom fell unnoticed. Maybe she'd been wearing it in her hair. She does that sometimes—wears a blossom. She could have tucked that blossom into her hair as she helped Jass prepare plants for the show—tucked it in and forgotten about it. Shandy visited Margaux's home on Saturday night.”

“We can't prove that,” Punt said. “We know someone came there and that someone dropped a lavender blossom. Beau had no lavender plants in his yard or his house, but we can't say Shandy visited Beau's house on Saturday night, that Shandy dropped the blossom. We've only circumstantial evidence. We've no witness who actually saw it happen.”

“Aren't cases sometimes brought to court and killers found guilty on the strength of circumstantial evidence?”

“Sometimes. I suppose it's possible in Florida. Do you still have that blossom? Or did you toss it?”

“You know my housekeeping reputation. I think the blossom's still there. On Sunday morning Curry came to my office—unexpected. I tried to neaten my desk in a hurry, and I removed a withered red blossom from a crystal dish, exchanging it for the blossom I'd picked up at Margaux's. Today I set the plant you gave me on my desk and I carried the blossom dish to the kitchen. I intended to drop it into the wastebasket, but just then someone came to my door.”

“Then that lavender blossom has to be in your kitchen.” Punt grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the door. “We have to get that blossom before…”

My stomach lurched. “…before Shandy remembers seeing it on my desk when she came in for her foot treatment on Tuesday. If she remembers the blossom, she'll wonder where it came from since I had no access to Jass's plants at that time. Then she may remember she wore it on Saturday night, that she lost it. Punt, we have to find that blossom.”

“Right.” Now Punt followed me as I raced down the steps and to his car. “Please don't get your hopes up too high. Hibiscus blossoms are fragile. On the plant they may last several days, but picked and placed in water they may last only a day or two. Seldom more.”

“Even after they wilt, you can identify color—in this case, their special color.”