6 Martini Regrets (17 page)

CHAPTER 33

I flopped back on the bed and tried to make sense of it all. Someone had searched my home looking for the orchid. I was pretty sure of that.

And the search had taken place right after Sasha came to the Sunset for the first time. But why had someone done a financial check on us? The answer came quickly: to see if we’d had a big fat bonus going into our account and to see if we’d paid off some debts. And what else?

I closed my eyes. I wanted to stay in bed for about a year. Just stay there and not think.

Clay came in an hour later and woke me. “C’mon, sleepyhead, let’s get going.” He pulled a carry-all from the bottom of his closet. Either our scene that morning didn’t matter to him or he was trying to patch things over. “I thought you’d be excited to go back to the island again.”

“Maybe not as excited as you, not quivering with anticipation.”

“You should be. This is the beginning of great things.” He dropped the bag on the bed beside me and headed back to his closet. “If this goes the way I think it will, the sale of Dancing Lady will set us up for a new life.”

It was the old life, the one I’d been born with, I was worrying about. I dragged myself upright and sat on the edge of the bed, arms dangling down between my legs in the most unladylike pose possible as I waited for the world to stop whirling around and watched Clay pack. “Ethan lied to me,” I said

Clay didn’t look up from the freshly laundered pale blue shirt he was folding. “About what?” His voice was neutral, underlined by a trace of, “Oh, here we go again.” He tucked the shirt gently into the bag, patting it down and smoothing out the edges.

“Obviously your idea of a night away is far different than mine. I threw a change of underwear and a bathing suit inside my bag.” I didn’t add that it was mainly to hide an item I was supposed to have returned to Tully. It was one of the few things I’d lied to Clay about. Actually, it wasn’t a lie. I just hadn’t done what I’d promised to do.

“Ethan knew about the orchid before Ben died. Sasha told him.”

He carefully folded another shirt, concentrating and not looking up as he said, “And you believe Sasha?”

“Ah, the big question.”

His hands stilled and he glanced over at me. “Does it matter when Ethan found out about the plant?”

“Maybe.”

His eyes went back to consider his neatly folded shirts. “Do you think two shirts are enough?”

I wanted to scream—and would have except then my head would have exploded. “It makes it possible that Ethan killed Ben.”

I had his attention now. “That’s crazy. Why would Ethan do that? The man has everything. What could he have possibly gained from killing his brother?”

“How about a black orchid?”

“People don’t kill their brother for a flower.”

“Not people like you, or people like me. Look at Martin Faust, risking jail and his reputation for a few plants. Some of these people go beyond crazy, smuggling plant material through customs, spending tens of thousands of dollars on foraging trips into the wilds of foreign countries and risking their lives.” I yawned again, stretching away sleep. “There’s an international trade in endangered species of wild animals and plants. Where do you think all that material goes to? Collectors.”

I could see on his face that he wanted to argue. Instead, he went back to packing his immaculately arranged bag. In truth, I didn’t believe it myself. It was just that everything seemed wrong and suspect these days.

On the way to the dock, while we were stopped at a red light, Clay looked straight ahead and said, “Are you sure you want to come?”

I studied him, a sudden realization dawning. He didn’t want me there, was afraid I was going to mess up his deal of a lifetime. I didn’t bother answering.

“Why don’t you stay home and rest? You can drop me off and come back for me tomorrow night.” The light turned green. “A day’s rest will make a difference to the way you see things.”

I felt like hell, and normally I would have been only too happy to beg off. But the thought of being separated from Clay right now gave me a bad case of the worries, scared for him and dreading being by myself. There was no way I was ever going to spend another night alone in that half-deserted subdivision. “It might be my only chance to see this fine place. Besides, I can rest there better than I can in Jac. I’ll tag along.”

“You can’t fool me. You’d rather we weren’t going.” Clay slowed and put on the blinker for a left turn through the gates of the marina. “What’s got you so bothered about this trip?”

I waved to a kid with a skateboard under his arm standing just inside the gate and waiting for us to pass. “Oh, I guess I’m just a herd animal. I don’t like to be cut off from the rest of the pack, like to be right there in the middle of things where no one can get at me.”

“Ah, in other words, the Sunset.” He pulled into a parking space and waited while the window slid silently up. “One day I expect you to put a bed in your office and move right in, never leave the place again.” He grinned at me and cut the engine.

“There’s a lot to be said for that idea: no rent, food at my command and company always available.”

“Is that how you want to live your life?” His gaze was intent, his eyes fixed on mine as if his very life depended on my answer.

I shook my head and put my hand on his. “No, that’s not what I want. I want a life with you and a family of our own. It’s embarrassing, but now I want all those things I used to make fun of.”

He smiled into my eyes and said, “Yeah, me too.” He squeezed my hand. “So, no more jumping at shadows today, okay?”

I pulled my hand away. “You’ve got it wrong. It’s not shadows that have got me jumpy. It’s a murderer.”

I heard his sharp intake of breath.

We sat in silence for a minute, and then Clay said, “Okay, let’s look at this logically.” He pulled my left hand towards him, rubbing it gently between his fingers as he spoke. “Ethan came to the Sunset because his brother had died and the police told him Tito had your card. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Everything else flowed naturally from that. Ethan gathered together some collectors who wanted Ben’s black orchid for the ball. Right?”

Again I nodded.

“But maybe none of those people were part of what happened to Ben.”

I turned to him and started to object, but he raised his hand and cut me off. “Yes, they all want the orchid, but there is no reason to think any of them are involved beyond that. It’s only Ethan’s suspect list. Maybe the person who killed Ben is someone we’ve never heard of and what happened at the nursery had nothing to do with orchids.”

“Oh, shit, I hadn’t thought of that.” It was an astounding idea. “The first day Ethan came to the Sunset, he said he thought it was about drugs.”

“Now do you see why you need to turn this over to the police and let them sort it out?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I need to talk to Styles.”

“And do you really think you are the only person that these plant collectors are calling? The news from the Orchid Ball spread like wildfire. Orchid collectors will be checking out every possible source for Ben’s black flower. Ethan told me the
CEO
of a bank phoned from New York and offered a bundle for the orchid.”

I pulled my hand away from him, feeling stupid. “But why are they calling me?”

“They’re calling you because you gave them your card.” He sounded totally exasperated. “They thought you were promoting something besides a restaurant. Now that you’ve made it clear you haven’t got the plant, they’ll leave you alone.” He opened his door. “Now, let’s go have some fun and forget about everything else for a day.”

I didn’t point out to him that his scenario didn’t cover the return of my sandal. There was no use in starting that argument again. I’d never convince him someone had really sent it to me, and bringing it up now would only convince him I was either lying or crazy—possibly both.

I got out of the car and smiled across the roof at him. The sun was shining and a slight breeze was blowing across the water to cool us off. I hadn’t done anything just for fun since my trip to Miami, so a day on the water was just what I needed to clear my head and heart of a lot of things. “Okay, a day off from worries. I’ll call Styles tomorrow and let him figure it out.” I threw my boat bag onto my shoulder and followed Clay down the dock to the berth where the boat from Dancing Lady waited.

CHAPTER 34

Liz had sent her launch—at least, that’s what she’d told Clay she was sending. It turned out to be an eighteen-foot white runabout with a Bimini top. The man driving it was named Silvio Rozelli. He had beef-jerky skin, a long gray braid down his back, and a green-and-red mermaid tattoo swimming up his forearm. You’ll find a guy like him, pumping gas, delivering boats and emptying trash bins, in every marina in Florida. Always ready to take off at a minute’s notice as crew on a boat for parts unknown, men like Silvio will never be far from the water. Boaters depend on guys like him.

We motored slowly away from the dock, easing out into the channel and barely gaining speed when we were clear of the marina. Silvio was a careful boater, respectful of the fact that inland waters are a no-wake zone, so it was a slow trip out to the open waters of the gulf. I didn’t mind. I studied the few houses on the gulf side, playing the when-I-win-the-lottery game of choosing a house, until the long point of land turned into a state park. Now Australian pines grew along the shore, and here and there, boaters had pulled up to enjoy a picnic in their shade, living the dream.

After we hit the gulf, Silvio opened up the engine, but it was still a thirty-minute ride down the coast from the end of the state park. Dancing Lady Island was just about as remote as you could get on the Florida coast.

Clay felt my eyes on him and turned to smile at me. He rose and made his way back to me. “Are you all right?”

“Better than I’ve been for weeks. Even my cold is better, but that may be from the ton of junk I’ve ingested.”

“Good. Whatever is making you feel better, I’m grateful.” He bent down and kissed me. “This is going to be a new beginning for us.”

I nodded and smiled up at him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Normal, that’s going to be us.” He brushed back the hair whipping around my face. “We’re putting the bad times behind us.” A boyish grin. “We’ve had a few of those, haven’t we? But we got through them.”

I nodded up at him again and then watched him go back to stand beside Silvio. What spun through my mind was, just because we’d always survived that didn’t mean we always would. Anxiety and panic couldn’t be dismissed as easily as Clay believed.

I huddled down on the turquoise cushions along the back, arms hugged to my chest and my hair beating my face, and let the rushing air clear my stuffed head. My view of events had taken on a novel twist. Clay’s suggesting there might be people involved that we’d never heard of sent my brain whirling through possibilities. He was right. I’d fixated on Ethan’s guest list. If there was someone else involved that I’d missed, was there any hint of who it might be? I went over every second from the time I left Miami, and then I started going over the list of people I’d already considered, searching for someone, or something, I’d missed.

Maybe Tito had told someone about me before he died. Scary thought, but a dead end. The big “aha” moment came when I listed all the people who had made me an offer to purchase the black orchid. Only one name was missing. Only one person hadn’t called or come into the bar, thinking that I had the plant . . . Liz. And why was that? Because she already had it.

We were within minutes of Dancing Lady. I looked at Clay. He’d freak out if I told him what I was thinking. There was no going back.

The house looked like the prow of an ocean liner, sailing above the mangroves and palms, the sun glinting off the banks of black solar panels across the roof. It demanded attention from those passing by while offering perfect privacy.

A sixty-eight-foot Predator yacht named
Dancing Lady II
sat at anchor a hundred feet off the dock. A quarter-million-dollar yacht. You had to be seriously rich to have one of those waiting at your pleasure. I wondered why it was here and not in a marina.

The weathered gray dock had a large white sign on the end. In bold black letters on a white board, it said,
DANCING LADY ISLAND
, and below the name were the words
NO TRESPASSING
. A woman in her early twenties, with bright blue hair and a ring in the center of her bottom lip, stood with her arms folded on top of the sign. She was barefoot and dressed in shorts and a halter. At her feet lay a canvas boat bag. She stood up straight and waved furiously.

Silvio waved back. “My daughter, Cassandra. She works here with me,” he said, pride and joy on his face and in his voice. He cut the engine and eased along the dock while Clay threw the bumpers over the side and tossed the girl a line.

She walked along the dock and pulled us in close to the tires lining the edge. Clay, holding the line for the stern, jumped onto the dock and tied it off.

Silvio left the engine idling and slung our gear onto the dock while Cassandra dumped her bag onto the back seat and jumped aboard, a woman who had spent her life getting on and off boats. “Hello,” she said to me, and then she went to stand beside her father. They both looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to stand up and join Clay on the dock.

“Aren’t you staying?” I asked Silvio.

“I’m taking Cassandra over to Boca Grande for a party and then I’ll be back.”

“How will we get back to Jac?”

Silvio started to make a joke, but then something in my face registered and he checked himself. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He put out a hand, almost touching me, and then drew it back. “You won’t want to leave before that, will you?”

I shook my head, but I was thinking a lot can happen in an hour. An excuse to go back to Jac trembled on my lips. Or maybe I could ride over to Boca with them. I wanted to be anywhere but trapped on this island. I looked up at Clay. He held out his hand.

For better or for worse, I was sticking with Clay. I stepped up onto the seat and then onto the dock. Clay picked up our bags while I watched with trepidation as Silvio and his daughter motored away. And then Liz was there, hugging us and leading us up a boardwalk into the mangroves. About five feet into the mangroves, a steel gate was built across the walkway. When it was closed and locked, the tangled branches on either side formed a living fence, impossible to pass through, protecting the house from intruders. The top of the gate was finished in decorative spikes. It would be as hard to get out as it would be to get in.

But for now the gate was unlocked, the key still in the mechanism. We continued along the walkway, scaring tiny lizards off the planks ahead of us. We stepped out of the tunnel of vegetation at the base of the building. An unholy racket broke out. A giant wire cage was built half under the stilt house. Inside the cage a red parrot, perched on a bare branch, screeched at us.

“Buddy is our guard bird,” Liz said. “No one gets in here without Buddy warning us.” She took a nut still in the shell from the pocket of her baggy shorts. “They just have to drive down the lane at the ranch or pull up to the dock and he tells us they’re coming.” She pursed her lips and made kissing sounds. “Keep your fingers away from him or you’ll lose them.”

“Seriously?” Clay said.

“Yup. Macaws and parrots have more pressure per square inch in their beaks than alligators do. Watch.” Holding an almond by one end, Liz stuck it through the wire. Buddy snapped at it. Grasping it with his talon, he cracked the almond shell like it was nothing more than a peanut, dropping bits of the casing and gobbling up the nut. Then he stretched his wings wide and began bobbing his head.

Liz made more kissing sounds at Buddy. “Sweet boy.”

She plucked a feather out of the wire and handed it to me. Red. I turned the feather over to expose the underside, blue with a thin line of green. “Get real.” I turned it back and forth, blue to red.

She grinned at me. “Amazing, isn’t it.”

Buddy grabbed the wire with his beak and turned upside down before he swooped back to his perch.

“Take a bow, Buddy.” Liz bowed low. “Take a bow.” Buddy bowed, ran forward on his perch and bowed again. We clapped. A mad string of bows followed on Buddy’s part.

“Show-off,” Liz said.

Finished with Buddy’s entertainment, Liz darted for the broad steps leading up to a deck at the front of the house. Caught off guard by her sudden exit, we ran to catch up as she jogged up the stairs.