Caught Read-Handed (14 page)

On the ride back to the island, I was feeling discouraged that we hadn't come up with a longer list of suspects. But I supposed finding two was better than finding none at all. I wondered what Mark thought. “Between those two neighbors, there are certainly plenty of motives for murder, don't you think?”

“I don't know. They're both crackpots, that's for certain, but killers . . . I don't see it. Loud and pushy, sure. You can see Otto took steroids for years. Never sure exactly how he'll respond to things. Then again, I'm not a deputy. I expect the deputies are taking a look.”

When we got to the café, I invited Mark in for an on-the-house lunch but he said he had to stop by the church for a group session and then hoped to spend some more time with George and Alan. “You haven't forgotten to try to get the
sister out of the mix, have you?” When I shook my head he said, “Good. That one's a fragile bird. Not at all like Bridgy's aunt. Now there's a gal who can fend for herself.”

I got out of the car thinking he didn't know the half of it.

The café was quiet with only two occupied tables, but a quick look at the clock told me the early lunch rush was about to start. Bridgy was taking a pile of tableware and cutlery from the soaking sink and loading it into the dishwasher when I walked through the kitchen to our tiny office to change into my usual work uniform of shorts and a tee shirt. When I came out she'd disappeared. I poked my head through the dining room door and saw she was pouring coffee for the folks at Robert Louis Stevenson, so I decided I'd finish loading the dishwasher. I was nearly done when Bridgy pushed through the kitchen door and immediately grabbed her stomach and doubled over. Miguel looked at me in alarm and we both ran to help her. Then we realized she was laughing hysterically but trying to do so as quietly as she could. She looked up, her face wet with tears. “N . . . n . . . napkin. P . . . please.” And went right back to stifling her laughter.

Miguel handed her a napkin and I half led, half dragged her to the back of the kitchen. “Bridgy, what? And why are you hiding in here?”

She stood still for a moment wiping her face, trying to gain control. She wheezed out, “Ophie,” and pointed to the door. “You have to see it to believe it.” And her irrepressible giggles started all over again.

Miguel had had enough. “I'll go and report back. Then perhaps I can have some sanity in my kitchen,
sì
?”

Bridgy reached out to pull him back. “No. I mean yes
you can have sanity in the kitchen but let Sassy deal with Ophie. She's dressed oddly is all.”

Miguel picked up his black-handled pastry blender and went back to cutting the butter into his piecrust dough. I looked at Bridgy, who gave me the universal double-handed shooing motion to rush me out of the room.

Bridgy should have prepared me. Then I realized nothing could have prepared me. Ophie was standing in the middle of the room dressed in white capri pants with wide silver buckles at the cuffs. On top she wore an oversized white tee shirt, imprinted with a huge green snake. The snake's head covered Ophie's considerable bosom, and the snake's body curled around the tee shirt front to back, back to front, over and over. Ophie spun like a top several times so that I could follow the snake's “natural beauty” from head to tail until I was totally dizzy.

Then I looked at her feet. She of the “well-mannered ladies always dress their feet properly” persuasion was wearing sneakers, and not just any sneakers like rubber-soled backless slide-ins with pretty little bows on the front, or even the sensible deck shoes that she refused to wear the one time we all went out on Cady's boat. Ophie was wearing hardcore sneakers. Thick firm soles and a toe box wide enough for an actual foot. These on the feet of a woman who wore sandals with mini heels to the beach. Amazing. Before I had a chance to recover from the outfit and the sneakers, Ophie had one last thing to show me. Her picket signs. Each one was colorfully printed and neatly attached to wooden sticks about four feet long. One read:

FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS KILL SNAKES

The next:

DO YOU WANT YOUR GRANDCHILDREN TO LIVE IN A SNAKE-FREE SOCIETY?

And finally:

ST. PATRICK DIDN'T KILL THE SNAKES
HE DROVE THEM OUT OF IRELAND

That one had a picture of a bearded man wearing a bishop's miter behind the wheel of a convertible, the backseat overflowing with snakes.

Now I knew why Bridgy didn't want Miguel to cross Ophie's path today. The longer we could delay that, the better off we'd all be. I've seen what happens when there is a cranky Miguel in the kitchen, and it isn't pretty.

“Ophie, why don't you sit down and let me pour you some sweet tea.” She settled in at Emily Dickinson and I tucked her signs, upside down, in the back corner behind the counter. She started to object but I said, “We can't have anyone trip over the sticks. Take a long time to sort that lawsuit out.”

The word “lawsuit” put the brakes on Ophie in a hurry.

Ophie took a sip of the glass of tea I'd set in front of her. Then she looked me straight in the eye. “I don't know what's wrong with folks 'round here. Snake hasn't done anything and y'all are ready to kill him for just showing up. The members of the Guy Bradley Environmental Action League are not going to stand for it. We're having a protest today in Bowditch Point Park. I'm waiting on Augusta and Blondie. We're meeting here so we can leave our medicines with you,
that way you can have Ryan or that handsome lieutenant smuggle them in to us if we wind up in the hoosegow.”

Oh, good Lord. I took a deep breath. “What league? And how did you get involved?”

“Honey chile, Guy Bradley is a martyr for the cause. He was a deputy sheriff and game warden in the Everglades during the Plume Wars.”

Never smart enough to keep my mouth shut, I said I'd never heard of the Plume Wars.

“You know how we admire the ladies' hats in those pictures from about a hundred years ago. The hats with gorgeous feathers flying high. Where do y'all think the feathers came from? Right here in south Florida. Our herons and egrets and other plumed birds. It was Guy Bradley's job to stop the plunder and he got shot for his troubles back in 1905.”

Like pulling teeth. “Okay, I get who Guy Bradley was but how did you get involved and what has it got to do with the anaconda?”

“Well, over at the community center, Cordy was handing out fliers, looking for volunteers . . .”

Clang. Clang. Clang. Lights and sirens went off in my brain. “Cordy? Cordelia Ramer?”

Ophie nodded. “Sure. You know her? She's president of the Action League. She's the one got this demonstration all set up. And this is just the beginning. Cordy says that all living beings have a right to live out their natural life, even the snakes among us.”

Well that was food for thought. Unless Cordelia Ramer believed that Tanya Trouble was lower than a snake, she might fall off my suspect list. I decided to switch topics. “Ophelia, I can see that you are very busy but I need a favor.
You remember Regina Mersky? You were so kind to her yesterday. She needs more of your down-home kindness.”

“Whatever that poor darlin' needs, just tell me.”

I tried to phrase it as delicately as I could. No telling what Ophie would repeat, or who she'd repeat it to, including Regina. “She is tired, stressed, and who wouldn't be, given the situation. I was thinking that a little time away from her brothers might clear her head.”

Ophie caught on immediately. “I'll tell you what. If we don't get arrested at this afternoon's protest, I'll give her a call and ask her to supper. She needs a friend, poor thing.”

The door opened and in came Miss Augusta Maddox and Blondie Quinlin. They were wearing the same big-snake tee shirt as Ophie. On tiny Augusta the shirt hung so close to her ankles that I could barely see her ever-present jeans straggling below, while on Blondie the shirt was a better fit, even snug in some places. The diners who'd been sitting in the back of the dining room were just leaving, and I met them at the cash register. After they paid their bill, they gave the ladies a wide berth, probably afraid they were environmental terrorists, given the ferocity of the snakes emblazoned on their chests.

Augusta handed me a bottle of baby aspirin. “I don't hold with medicines but Doc says it's time I started taking one of these each day. Good for the ticker.”

Blondie was right behind her with a daily pillbox. “I'm not as fortunate. Hang on to these for me please. In case.”

I poured them all a round of sweet tea and went inside to ask Miguel to put some cookies in three sandwich bags. I heard the front door open and when I walked into the dining room there were two sets of customers waiting for tables. By the time I sat them and gave them menus, the three
environmentalists were on their feet and ready to go. I carried the signs outside for them, careful that our customers couldn't see the slogans. Augusta and Blondie were duly impressed with Ophie's graphics, especially the convertible full of snakes.

I gave them each a bag of cookies and a hug before I sent them on their way. By the time I got inside, Bridgy was taking orders from the folks who had just come in. I pulled out my phone to call George but the front door opened again. Lunch rush had begun.

Sally Caldera came in and stood at the counter for takeaway service. Always a healthy eater, she ordered a double house salad and one hardboiled egg. I dropped her order on the pass-through.

Bridgy was walking around the dining room, checking in at each table. I took the moment of downtime to ask Sally about Tanya Lipscome's funeral.

She replied, “I saw you in the parking lot. You never made it inside?”

I explained that I hadn't been invited and was there more on a “scouting” mission, to use Mark Clamenta's phrase.

“Snooping again, huh? Don't let Lieutenant Anthony find out. I think it was because of your last escapade that he asked us to let the deputies use our conference room for a series of talks on how to tell the sheriff's office every little thing.”

I couldn't help but laugh. “I had no idea. He wants to know every little thing?”

Sally pushed her eyeglasses atop her abundant russet curls. “Well he didn't use that term but the speakers were so comprehensive, I gave it my own interpretation. Anyway the funeral was plain, simple and peaceful—all the things that Tanya was not. She would have hated it.”

“Do you think that's why her husband went with ordinary? Some private little joke?”

Sally grimaced. “Never know with those two. I mean just look at the invitation list. I understand why I got invited, but the church was filled with off-islanders. If someone lives here, I might not know them well, but I'd know them by sight. Everyone on the island comes into the library at least once in a while to get a book or a movie, or to participate in a program.”

I told her what Mark said about Barry inviting any number of business acquaintances.

She nodded. “That makes sense. Then there was that grad student, Elaine. You know who I mean. She was waitressing here the other day when I picked up my yogurt and tea.”

“Elaine Tibor. Why wouldn't she be there? She tutors one of the stepsons.”

“Perhaps. But I can tell you for a fact Tanya couldn't stand her. Elaine spent a lot of her research time in the library. You saw how Alan affected Tanya. Elaine got her just as riled but Tanya responded in a more subtle, passive-aggressive way. Books Elaine reserved suddenly went missing. If she left her notes on her worktable unattended for a few minutes, when she came back, some pages would be gone. And Tanya bad-mouthed her at every opportunity.”

I was sorting out a variety of issues that would cause hostility between Tanya and Elaine but I still managed to be attentive enough to give Sally her lunch and take her money.

She got as far as the front door and turned around to tell me that I had company fast approaching. I knew who it was as soon as she said, “Be sure to tell them every little thing.”

I was glad the café was nearly full of customers so I'd have an excuse not to be available for a long conversation with Ryan and Frank. As soon as I saw they were wearing civvies, I realized what I should have known all along. They were at the funeral. And they knew I was there, too. I sighed. This wasn't going to be fun.

I led them to Dashiell Hammett in the rear of the dining room so that our conversation couldn't be easily overheard and asked if they'd like anything. They both ordered coffee, and Ryan asked if we had any Harper Lee Hush Puppies, a menu item that Ophie had introduced and Miguel enjoyed making.

I brought a heaping plateful along with their coffee.

Frank Anthony looked around. “I see you're busy but I'd appreciate it if you could find a few minutes to sit with us.”

He was so nice about it that I started to fear they wanted
to talk about something more serious than my sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong. I said a silent prayer as I went to ask Bridgy to cover the dining room for a few minutes.

I sat at the table and folded my hands primly in my lap, expecting a barrage of questions. When it didn't come, I knew something was very wrong.

Ryan put down his coffee cup and looked at Frank, who gave a slight nod. Then Ryan cleared his throat. “I know you're good friends with the Mersky family. Things aren't going well for them right now.”

I interrupted. “If this is about Regina, I know she's fragile and I'm working on getting help.”

By the looks on both their faces, I knew I was completely off track.

Frank spoke in the gentlest voice I'd ever heard him use. “Listen to Ryan.” In that moment I was sure someone was dead.

Ryan started again. “A lot of the forensic test results are complete now. We can say with certainty that the branch that crushed Tanya Lipscome's skull is a perfect match to the tree limb found in Alan Mersky's car.”

He sat back and his shoulders relaxed a little, the worst part of his job done.

“The one time I saw Alan's car, the windows were wide open and the doors were unlocked. Anyone could have . . . And what about fingerprints?”

Frank answered. “The bark isn't conducive to lifting prints. The techs tried all the modern stuff including alternate light sources, various glues, even magnetic powder. Trouble is, after the crime, the perp dropped the branch into the hot tub. Techs dried out the branch before it was tested, but the chlorinated water had more than done its job.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Well, first off, we are preparing to arrest Alan Mersky. A lawyer from the state attorney's office and I are going to meet with his doctor later today to discuss how best to proceed.”

Goddard Swerling popped into my head. “What about Alan's lawyer?”

“The assistant state attorney will contact him as soon as we're sure . . . I'm telling you this because the family is from out of town and you're their only friend here. We thought you should be prepared to help them get through what is coming.”

I couldn't think of a response and then I remembered something I could contribute. I excused myself and came right back with the valet parking ticket I found in the woods by the Lipscome house. To Frank Anthony's credit, he didn't berate me immediately for withholding evidence, although his face indicated storm clouds were brewing.

He looked at the ticket, turned it over and back again. Then he passed it to Ryan, who pulled a baggy from somewhere and dropped the red and white receipt inside. Ryan wouldn't make eye contact with me, another bad sign.

Frank asked me to repeat my story of how I found the receipt. And then he made me repeat it again.

When I finished the third telling, I said, “Look we're really swamped. I have to help Bridgy.”

Frank nodded and I assumed we were done. I started to stand but he signaled me to stay in my seat. “I just want to be sure I have this right. You saw something you thought might help exonerate your friend and point us toward someone else. So you picked it up. You and Bridgy both handled it. You never thought to surrender it when you met us last night at the animal hospital. And now you present it
to me as a saving grace because its date stamp matches the date of the murder?”

When he put it like that, I sounded like a complete dolt. In for a penny . . . I nodded in agreement.

He tilted his chair back and then leaned forward until we were practically nose to nose. “I did really hope you learned your lesson the last time you interfered in a murder case but I can see you didn't. Let me be clear. You are not to touch anything you think is involved in this case. Other than the Mersky family you are not to speak to anyone you think is involved in this case. Have I made myself clear?”

I allowed myself one extremely meek head bob.

“Good.” He sat back, giving me the impression that the worst was over, but then he hammered me again. “Now tell me what you and your reporter pal were doing talking to the neighbors at the funeral this morning.”

“I wasn't
with
Cady. We were both there, but not together, at least at not at first. Cordelia Ramer caused a scene. Cady talked her down. Then while my friend Mark and I were observing the mourners, Otto Ertz came along and started another hubbub. Mark calmed him down. Then we left.”

“Observing the mourners, huh? And what did you observe?” Frank's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“I observed oddities.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “The newly minted widower was mindful enough of future profits that he invited every business acquaintance in a fifty-mile radius. The son's tutor was invited but the neighbors were not, and there didn't seem to be any local friends.”

That last one was Sally's but I decided to throw it on my pile.

Neither of them said a word. Ryan still looked like he
wanted to be any place else but here. Frank was completely blank-faced until he finally thanked me for my time.

I forced myself to get up slowly and move away from the deputies rather than run screaming from the room, which would have reflected my true feelings.

I started at Barbara Cartland and was reciting the specials for a woman who left her eyeglasses home, so she couldn't read the daily board. When I looked over at Dashiell Hammett, the table was empty save two coffee cups and a few Harper Lee Hush Puppies.

We were super busy for a while longer, and then the late lunch crowd dwindled. A couple sat at Dr. Seuss with a toddler and a baby both asleep in their double stroller. I brought them a piece of Miguel's apple pie a la mode with two forks. I started cleaning the back of the dining room when I noticed that someone had been browsing the bookshelves and left some books askew. I was just getting them back in order when I heard the front door open and turned to see Mark Clamenta and George Mersky. I panicked for the moment. Should I tell George what I had just learned from the deputies? They hadn't sworn me to secrecy; still, I had a sense I was being forewarned, not given the go-ahead to repeat the conversation all over Fort Myers Beach.

Mark and George sat at Robert Louis Stevenson. I brought over two cups of coffee. “You look like you could use these.”

George nodded his thanks. “Sassy, do you have a minute?”

He was so glum that I knew he needed a pal. I sat down instantly, ready to hear whatever he might have to say.

“We dropped O'Mally and Regina at the condo. I told them to get some rest, but I really wanted to hash this out
with friends but not, well, worry them, especially Regina. She's not handling all this very well.”

That reminded me that Ophie agreed to try to distract Regina. When I mentioned it, George didn't hold much hope but gave me Regina's cell number to pass along. “Anything that might pull her out of her funk.”

When he didn't say anything else, I offered to get something to eat for him and Mark. George just shook his head. “Thanks, but I don't think I can eat.” Then he blurted, “Sassy, they're going to arrest Alan for murder. I'm not sure he can handle the process, much less a trial.”

I was floored. At least I didn't have to decide whether or not to tell George. But how did he know? I asked quietly, “George, are you sure?”

“Quite sure. Some kind of government lawyer and representatives from the sheriff's office are going to meet with Alan's doctor and line up the protocols. Got to be all legal without putting Alan in deeper medical jeopardy.”

“What about Alan's lawyer?”

George deflated completely. “I don't know what to do with the guy. He claims that Alan is uncooperative so it's going to cost more money than we originally agreed. He's not just looking for an increase. He's talking double. We're not a rich family . . .”

Mark took a deep breath as if doing so could make his words more forceful. “I told you. Don't worry about the shyster. Owen will take care of him.”

Always a bit cynical, George laughed. “If you want to sell me that particular rainbow, Owen better come up with a pot of gold to go with it.”

Mark tented his hands, fingertips touching. “Owen
doesn't spread it around but he is a lawyer. Licensed to practice in the state of Florida.”

A tiny spark of hope came into George's eyes. “Maybe he can represent Alan. Owen understands what Alan is going through and—”

“George, Owen isn't a criminal attorney. He works for a veteran's rights organization. He and another representative of the group are meeting with Swerling and going to put their very large cards on the table. My bet is the last thing any lawyer wants is a lawsuit against him, especially a suit that alleges he's taking unfair advantage of our military heroes.” Mark gave me a wink. “Think your young newspaper friend would be willing to cover that story?”

“Not only would he, his boss is a Vietnam vet. The story would probably be front page all the way.” I managed a big grin and watched George relax ever so slightly. I leaned in and patted his hand. “Now, how about some apple pie a la mode? Today's special. Homemade pie.”

George's smile was tiny but genuine. “I believe I will.”

I was serving the pie when the circus came to town, bringing the ringleader along for good measure.

Ophie burst through the door, her head twisted as she spoke to those who followed behind. “Don't be silly, my niece and her friend will be overjoyed to meet y'all. And I just know there will be sweet tea and snacks a plenty.”

Even wearing her sturdy sneakers, Ophie managed to spin into the room like a rock star taking center stage. In addition to Augusta and Blondie, three other women straggled along behind, all wearing the symbolic green anaconda tee shirt. The last one through the door was Cordelia Ramer. And, oh Lord, Miguel was still in the kitchen. This wasn't going to go well.

Ophie shepherded her little flock over to Emily Dickinson and urged them to push the Robert Frost table closer so they could sit as a group. As soon as she had them properly distracted she walked over to me, but her eyes never left Mark Clamenta.

“Honey chile, I am so sorry to interrupt your, ah, conversation with these handsome gentlemen, but y'all don't mind if I help myself to some treats from the kitchen.” She was so busy batting her eyelashes at Mark that she nearly didn't notice me jump from my seat.

“Ophie, you've had a busy day. Why not unwind with your friends. Bridgy and I will be happy to serve.” I could keep her out of the kitchen for the moment, but I knew chaos would ensue the minute Miguel spotted those shirts. I went into the kitchen hoping I could feed the demonstrators and get them out of the dining room before Miguel and Bridgy finished cleaning the kitchen.

But I knew I was in trouble when I saw that Miguel had already removed his chef's jacket and Bridgy was carrying her purse. She saw the question on my face and said, “We're off to help Dr. Mays. Remember? Today's my day. And Miguel has to pick up Bow.”

But first they had to wade through the crowd of snake savers in the dining room. That should be fun.