Castle Cay (17 page)

They passed Sloppy Joe’s bar, still trading
successfully on Hemingway’s patronage since the 30’s. Julie heard
Jimmy Buffett music drifting from somewhere; she considered that it
was Sunday, a weekend, and wondered if it was live.

When they reached the Sandpiper, the doors
were open there, too, and Julie recognized several of Marc’s
paintings. Susan Dwyer was sitting at a small desk at the rear of
the store and looked up as they entered.

She rose, smiling, and walked toward them,
dressed in a billowy lilac and green caftan. She was a tall woman
in her late forties, Julie guessed. She had broad shoulders and a
square jaw softened by silver hoop earrings and shoulder-length,
highlighted hair.

“Julie! It’s good to see you!” she said, as
they air-kissed. “Nice to see you, too!” she said, looking from
Julie to Joe.

“This is my friend, Joe Garrett,” said Julie.
“Joe, this is Susan Dwyer.”

“Nice to meet you, Susan,” said Joe, shaking
her hand.

“Did David call you back?” said Julie.

“Yes. I just got off the phone with him. I’m
going over there later this afternoon. I have so much work to do!
Marc’s New York show is still scheduled for October 5th, you
know.”

“Yes,” said Julie, “David told me.”

“He would have wanted that,” added Susan.
“Can I show you around, Joe?”

“Please do.”

Susan took her time, telling them a little
about each of the artists whose work was on display.

Joe noticed some paintings signed
Roland
Archer
. “Is that Rolly, Marc and David’s friend?”

“Yes,” said Susan. “He’s an excellent artist.
Not in the same league with Marc, though. Marc had a very rare
talent. I’m expecting some of the pieces in the New York show to
sell for several thousand dollars each.”

A customer came in and Susan excused herself
to tend to him. Seeing that she was going to be tied up for awhile,
they waved goodbye to her and headed back toward Mallory
Square.

When they reached Front Street, Joe said that
he’d been to the seaport a few times and knew a good place for
lunch. He was clearly headed for the pier, talking on about the
food. Julie stopped, feeling light-headed and nauseous. Joe turned,
and saw her rooted to the spot, ashen.

“Merlin? Are you all right?”

“Yes…but I’d rather not go out on the pier.
Let’s go back to the house.”

“Okay, but can we sit for a minute?”

He took her hand and led her to a shaded
bench. After she was seated, Joe remained standing, his foot on the
bench.

“Julie…I know how your husband died,” he
began, “and I can understand your fear of the sea. I can’t imagine
how terrible that must have been.

“But one thing I know: fear feeds on itself
and it grows like an invasive weed. It lies to you and closes in
around you until you can’t move.

“Right here in the Keys, there are delicate
coral ridges more beautiful than you can imagine, Julie. They’re
protected and nourished by the very sea you fear so much…and
they’re teeming with life, not death.

“Someday, I hope you’ll let me take you to
see the other side of the coin…”

* * * * *

“
T
here
is
a second buyer who is
very interested in Castle Cay,” said Frank Martino into his
headset, using the stale ploy to nail down John Walsh, the lawyer
representing Holiday Cruise Lines.

Attorney Walsh wasn’t biting.

“Well, if Mr. Solomon can’t wait for my
client to consider every aspect of this contract in light of the
new circumstances, perhaps he should sell to
them
.”

Frank wondered what the hell he meant by
that. Did they want out of the deal? Or were they angling for a
lower purchase price? He was glad the man on the other end of the
phone couldn’t see the panic on his face. Fortunately, Frank had
mastered a confident phone voice.

“Mr. Solomon is a man of his word, Mr. Walsh.
He accepted Holiday’s offer, and he will stand by his commitment to
sell Castle Cay to your client for the agreed amount,” said Frank.
“And, of course, no one wants to see a buyer lose their
deposit.”

Take that, you wiseass.
Now he was
playing hardball, and he had just whacked it into Walsh’s
court.

Addicted to winning, Frank felt a rush as the
balance of power returned to his side. He rocked back in his desk
chair, his hands locked behind his neck, swiveling around to see if
any of his fellow agents had heard. Nick, in the cubicle across the
aisle had, and Frank winked at him while he waited, silently, for
Walsh to reply.

“My client just wants a thirty-day extension
on the closing date, Mr. Martino. They have every intention of
proceeding with the purchase.”

Thirty days! I could be dead in thirty
days.

Frank knew that he had no authority to
negotiate. As an agent, he was required by law to present this
request to his principal, Avram Solomon. Although that would be
unpleasant, it wasn’t the problem. The problem was a hundred grand
Frank owed Joey Bonanno, his bookie.

Fuck. First the seller needs more time, now
the buyer!

“Of course, I’ll present your request to Mr.
Solomon,” he said in his best phone voice, his back now turned to
his colleague across the aisle. “But, frankly, it could be the
‘straw that breaks the camel’s back’, so to speak. Your client
might be more successful asking for a two-week extension, Mr.
Walsh.”

Frank knew that was weak. The length of the
silence on the other end confirmed it. The power had shifted. At
last, the attorney spoke.

“Well, let’s try thirty days first, Mr.
Martino. Goodbye.”

Fuck. Me.

* * * * *

T
he weather in Key West had
deteriorated as the afternoon wore on. Julie looked out the glass
doors and across the pool patio. The yachts on the far side of the
canal were rocking, palm trees were swaying, and the intermittent
rain seemed to be falling once again.

Joe was lounging beside her at the kitchen
bar talking to David. Ostensibly, they were keeping him company
while he prepared dinner. In reality, Julie knew that she and Joe
were enjoying the new intimacy they’d found with each other. For
her part, she was more relaxed now than she’d been in a long, long
time.
I’m glad that he knows about Dan,
she mused.

Rolly’s name caught her attention, and she
tuned back into the conversation. Joe had commented on Rolly’s
paintings.

“Where do you think he would go?” asked
Joe.

“I can’t imagine!” said David. “He told me
his mother died years ago and he has no other family.”

“You better hope they catch him, David,” said
Julie.

“I hope they don’t.”

I give up,
she thought.

The doorbell rang.

“That’s Susan, I think,” said David. “Would
you get it, Julie? I’ve developed a phobia about answering the
door.”

Julie smiled and went to answer it..

“Hi!” said Susan, shaking off her umbrella.
She snapped it shut and leaned it against the house. “It’s raining
sideways; I’m soaked. What a day to move paintings!”

“C’mon in,” said Julie. “The rain seems to
stop every once in a while. Maybe it will clear long enough to get
them into your truck.”

Susan had on a light blue denim outfit, the
lower pant legs darkened from the rain. She kicked off her shoes
and padded to the bar in her socks, exchanging hellos with Joe and
David.

“Hm-m, whatever you’re cooking smells great,”
she said, taking a seat.

“A pork roast, with red potatoes and
asparagus. There’s plenty; we were hoping you could join us?”

“Oh…I’d love to, thanks.”

Julie noticed the hesitation and wondered if
she’d had other plans. “I’m glad you can stay; I set a place for
you,” she said, picking up a bottle of wine. “We have Merlot, or
there’s some Chardonnay, if you prefer.”

“Oh, thanks, but I don’t drink. I’m
diabetic,” said Susan. “I’d love some iced tea, if you have
it.”

“Sure, I’ll get it,” said David, who had just
finished slicing the roast. He brought her a glass and suggested
that they go sit at the table.

“Why don’t I go up and get the paintings
first; it’ll only take me a minute,” said Susan, opening the
portfolio at her feet and extracting a folded sheet. “I brought
this to wrap them in, just in case the rain keeps up.”

“Can I help?” said Julie.

“No need,” said Susan heading up the stairs.
“I only need a couple, and they’re light before they’re
framed.”

“You can help
me
Julie,” said David.
“I’ve decided to fill the plates in here. You want to go get
them?”

“And what do
I
do?” asked Joe.

“You just sit there looking
manly,”
said David, with a wink.

Julie chuckled as Joe turned red…but he was
smiling.

A few minutes later, they were enjoying a
candlelight dinner and complimenting the chef.

“So, how are things coming with the show?”
said David.

“I’ve already shipped most of the paintings
to the Herzog Gallery, along with the details for the plaques,”
said Susan.

Looking at Julie and Joe, she explained, “You
know…medium, date, and description.” She turned back to David. “But
enough about the show…how are
you
doing, David?”

“I’m numb, I guess. It’s all too much. I just
can’t cry anymore. And now they’re looking for poor Rolly.”

“They’re looking for
Rolly
?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Susan. I lied to you. Rolly
was here with me that night. We arranged for him to come back after
he left with you.”

Julie caught Joe’s eye. He had picked up on
Susan’s body language, too. She wasn’t surprised about Rolly
staying over that night. No downward looks, no embarrassment.

“Oh,” she said, pausing. “Do they think Rolly
had something to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” said David. “But they’re
looking for him.”

“Do you think Rolly could have killed Marc,
Susan?” said Julie.

“Oh, no. Rolly? Of course not.”

“Any thoughts about where he might have
gone?” asked Joe.

“No idea,” she said, shaking her head.

•

Susan had left, the dishes were cleared away,
and they were relaxing in the living room. There was no more talk
of Marc’s death, or Rolly Archer. They kept the conversation light
and watched the rain outside.

David turned on the local weather channel.
The sharply dressed weatherman stood, gesturing, next to a
computer-enhanced map.

“
In the last forty-eight hours, we’ve
upgraded this system to a tropical storm. You can see Carlo here,
approaching Cuba.

“
It’s a large, slow moving system and a
major rain-maker. So far, it’s caused severe flooding in Haiti and
Jamaica, and we’re getting the outer bands of wind and rain here in
the Keys.

“
If the cold front in the south continues
pressing down into Florida, it could disorganize this storm and
push it back out into the Atlantic.

“
However, if that front weakens, Carlo
will likely head into the Gulf of Mexico, where the warmer water
could cause the storm to strengthen and grow more organized. In
that case, we would expect it to take a more westerly course,
toward Mexico.

“
Stay tuned to the Weather Channel here
for continuous updates on tropical storm Carlo.”

David turned off the TV. “Well, let’s pray it
blows out to sea,” he said, sighing and getting up from the couch.
“I hope you two will forgive me, but I’m so tired…I really must go
to bed.”

“Not at all, David,” said Joe, rising. “Thank
you for a terrific dinner.”

“It was really good, David. Thank you,” said
Julie.

“My pleasure. I’m glad you’re both here.
Goodnight, my dears.” He set his wine glass on the kitchen counter
and went into his bedroom.

“He’s such a nice guy,” said Joe.

“Yes, he is,” said Julie. “He’s a gentle
person. It’s a shame he’s embroiled in all of this.”

An awkward silence ensued. Julie was
reluctant to end the evening, but they had clearly run out of
conversation. “Well, I guess it’s that time for me, too,” she said,
rising.

“Yeah, good idea,” said Joe.

She turned off the lights and headed down the
hallway. His arm came up beside her, blocking her bedroom door.
“Julie, wait,” he said, “You’re driving me crazy. I can’t wait any
longer.” Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Julie succumbed instantly. She couldn’t have
said no if she wanted to…and she certainly didn’t want to.

They undressed quickly, their hands all over
each other, exploring secret parts they had longed to see and
touch.

Joe yanked off the comforter and they fell on
the bed. He paused, braced on his arms, looking down at her. Julie
savored the delicious weight of his body on hers. And then he was
moving inside her.

The rain pounded furiously at the window, but
Julie was oblivious to it, caught up in a mounting storm of her
own.

* * * * *

R
olly’s stomach convulsed as the
Miranda suddenly dropped ten feet after riding the crest of another
mammoth swell. The rain had been coming in torrential
hurricane-like bands. But for now, at least, the furious pelting
had stopped. He estimated that the cloud cover was about eighty
percent, but it was moving fast, the full moon showing through,
illuminating the storm-tossed sea.

He couldn’t calculate where he was. All he
could do was try to stay on a west-southwesterly course. He thought
that he might have been swept in a circle when the heavy rain came
the last time. His struggle to keep the boat heading into the waves
pulled him off course. It had been difficult to see. The squall was
so violent the rain had blown around inside the cabin.