Caught Read-Handed (16 page)

Mark Clamenta joined Cynthia right at the edge of the audience. “Hi, all. My name is Mark Clamenta and I've lived on this island for decades. I used to run a fishing boat off San Carlos Island. Now I'm retired and enjoying life, but nearly fifty years ago I spent some time in the jungles of Vietnam. Anyone else?”

A voice from somewhere up near Miguel called out, “Da Nang, 1970.”

Mark gave the man a full salute. “Then you know, brother. Nam vets are at home with snakes.”

The vet gave a high thumbs-up. “Damn straight.”

Mark smiled. “We have veterans with service time spanning from World War II through the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. They belong to associations that meet in this church. I've spoken to the leadership of each group and everyone is interested in helping. Even as we are here talking, there are
vets hunting down the equipment we'll need to find and capture the snake.”

“Then what?” A voice came from the Guy Bradley seats.

“Along with Dr. Mays, we will secure the snake until arrangements can be made to transport it off island and out of our lives.”

Cordelia Ramer stood, hands on hips and shouted, “And if none of your fancy snake zoos will take the anaconda, then what?”

Mark took a step toward her and I was actually looking forward to the confrontation, but Dr. Mays touched Mark's arm and crossed in front of him to get closer to the Guy Bradley ladies. “There are dozens of snake zoos all over the world. We will find the anaconda a home.” She took a deep breath and swiveled her head to the other side of the room. “Any more questions?”

Several hands shot up.

In short order, Dr. Mays and Mark Clamenta established a committee to set up a round robin for telephone information to be sent out as quickly as possible. Bridgy volunteered to join that working group.

Not to be outdone, I volunteered to work on compiling a list of snake zoos. According to Dr. Mays we'd go for those most likely to be interested in the anaconda first and work from there.

After settling that the temporary shelter in Dr. Mays's office would continue to be supported by volunteers, Blondie Quinlin and another Guy Bradley member raised their hands and signed on. I wondered if Miss Augusta was annoyed that her animal allergies kept her from helping.

Pastor John stood and gave one sharp clap. “Well, that
settles it, folks. It looks like we've made great progress, and life on the island will get back to normal in a very short time. Thank you all for coming.”

Before he got the last syllable out of his mouth, people were shuffling their chairs, standing and heading for the door.

I turned toward a familiar voice. “Wait. I have an announcement.”

Everyone stopped, wondering what we hadn't covered.

Miguel gave his name and address and pointed to Mr. Gerrity. “This is my neighbor, Liam Gerrity. We both own pets who like the outdoors and we live in the two houses at the end of Orange Gate Drive beside the bay. We are so grateful that everyone has come together to protect all the pets, we have decided to celebrate with a cornhole party as soon as the anaconda is caught and shipped. Every volunteer will be invited. We will make sure to give every committee chair the details to pass along.”

A big cheer went up in the room, followed by a round of clapping. Bridgy and I looked at each other. Cornhole? Miguel was surrounded by people, so we decided to head out, pick up my Heap-a-Jeep from Dr. Mays's parking lot and call it a day.

*   *   *

When we arrived at the Read 'Em and Eat the next morning, Bridgy marched right into the kitchen to ask Miguel about cornhole. I followed along.

“You're a chef. It's a food, right?”

He laughed as if he was sure she was teasing. “You never heard of cornhole?”

We both shook our heads.

“You come to the party and you will learn.” And he bent his head to the veggies he was chopping and ignored us until we took the hint, put on our aprons and got to work.

Later that morning, George called to thank me for arranging a day out for Regina and O'Mally. “It was so friendly of Bridgy's aunt to take them along on her outing to that park, Ding Darling.”

I bit my tongue. This was probably not the best time to teach George the difference between a park and a refuge, so I segued. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Well, Owen Reston and another lawyer from his veterans' legal defense group are going to go with me to meet with Goddard Swerling. I think they are in the best position to read him the riot act. I don't have the strength.”

My heart broke to hear him so dejected. “How is Alan?”

“He's getting good care and seems more lucid each day, so I think that his arrest will come shortly. Too bad. I was hoping to take him to the condo for a few days. Give him a little normalcy.”

I wished him luck, put my phone on vibrate and got to work.

The café was at its busiest. We had no tangible lull between breakfast and lunch. Not one table stayed vacant for more than a minute or two. Lunch was at full throttle when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it but when it vibrated for the third time in five minutes, I pulled it out and took a look. Ophie.

I waved the phone at Bridgy and then slipped out the front door. “What is it? How are Regina and O'Mally managing?”

“Everything is hunky-dory, but I wouldn't be surprised if that O'Mally doesn't skin Cordelia Ramer alive. Why,
Cordelia actually nagged at us to stop lollygagging and tend to our petitions. Who put her in charge?”

I, for one, was sure the Guy Bradley ladies did, but I didn't reply. I looked to heaven. Would Ophie ever get to the point?

Finally she did, sort of. “It is hot as blazes out here. Not a breeze to be had. So of course, every time I was able to drag Regina and O'Mally away from Cruella de Vil and her petition drive, I'd take them for a walk on a shady path and show off our flora and fauna. Did you know there are more than two hundred thirty species of birds in the refuge?”

“Ophie, we're busy here.”

“Sorry, honey chile. Guess who I saw trying to be all smoochy smoochy–like with a man who wasn't having it?”

I wasn't up for an episode of
Entertainment Tonight
. If Ophie thought interrupting my day to report some vacationing celebrities seeking privacy was a priority . . . well I had no answer.

“Okay, don't guess. It was that part-time waitress you hired. The college girl. But he was no college boy, I can tell you that.”

Why would I care about Elaine Tibor's love life? “Ophie, listen . . .”

“No. Y'all listen. At first, I thought they were cozy looking but Augusta said the girl was a might too possessive, clingy, you know. I think Blondie got it right when she said the fellow looked a tad uncomfortable. Like he'd rather be anywhere else but here.”

I could hear the pride in her voice, like she'd dropped the bombshell of the century right in my lap.

“Ophie. I have to get back to work. Elaine is a single young woman. She can do as she likes.”

“Don't y'all want to know who she was doing ‘as she likes' with?”

I heaved a long and wistful sigh. Anything to end this call. “Okay. Who was she with?”

“Well, I didn't recognize him at first. But O'Mally knew right on. She grabbed Regina's arm and said, ‘That's the man whose wife was murdered. What is he doing with that girl?' And then I took a closer look and I recognized him from the evening news. It was Tanya Lipscome's husband. Definitely. Y'all better tell Ryan and that handsome lieutenant.”

“Ophie, we're really busy. Can't you tell them? You're the witness, after all.”

“Much as I like the title, we're here on a mission. Y'all get a break sooner or later. Call Ryan then. Gotta go.” And she clicked off.

Give her an assignment. The one sure way to get Ophie off the phone. I rushed back inside the café and pitched in to help Bridgy, who was practically roller skating around the room, serving and bussing at warp speed to pick up my slack.

A couple of hours flew by before I noticed an empty table. Then two. The rush was subsiding gradually at first, and then all at once we were down to two tables with folks who were lingering more than eating. Bridgy came out of the kitchen and signaled me to meet her at the counter. She set down a fresh pitcher of lemonade and then pulled some papers out of her pocket. “I know you don't want to talk about the ice machine, but Royal has a really good one on sale right now. And ours is at the end of its rainbow.” She slid a piece of paper across the glossy countertop. “I did a lot of checking. Miguel even introduced me to the manager of the country club.”

“You're kidding, right? I would think the club was a place you'd avoid.”

She tossed me a dismissive wave. “We went a while ago. Long before our little adventure with Barry Baby.”

My head snapped up, Bridgy's ice machine purchase forgotten. “OMG.”

Bridgy waggled her fingers, signaling me to lower my voice, which I did. I lowered to an absolute whisper. “Ophie called.”

“Oh Lord. They didn't get arrested, did they? I thought last night's meeting had cooled things down. I swear I will slap that Cordelia Ramer . . .”

“No arrests, at least none that I know of. Ophie, Augusta and Blondie took the Mersky girls on a side tour of Ding Darling, you know, looking at birds, turtles, frogs and butterflies. And who do you think they saw off in the trees all alone and snuggly?”

Bridgy was quick, I give her that. “Don't tell me. Barry Baby?” She glanced behind me. “Hold that thought.” She hustled a check over to the couple sitting at Hemingway. Then she stood at the register, getting more impatient by the moment until they finally strolled over and paid.

Bridgy smiled and gave them a cheerful, “Enjoy the rest of your day,” and then made a beeline back to me. “So, who is she? Do we know? Did Ophie recognize her? Spill.”

“Oh, we definitely know her. Your Barry Baby was playing footsie on a side path at Ding Darling National Refuge with . . .” I tapped out a rather dramatic drumroll on the countertop. “Elaine Tibor.”

Bridgy gave such a startled yelp that we both looked over at the three people sitting at Agatha Christie, but they were deep in conversation and didn't pay us any mind.

“I thought she was fooling around with Ellison.” Bridgy's whisper had an edge of steel.

“Tutoring. She said tutoring.”

Bridgy tut-tutted. “I
know
what she said but I thought it was code, like booty call.”

“How do you get booty call out of tutoring? Honestly, Bridgy. Let's focus here. Could having an affair with Elaine Tibor be a motive for Barry Baby to kill his wife?”

Bridgy shook her head. “I'm not sure. I think he's a dog. Remember how he flirted with me the other day? I peg him as one of those ‘any port in a storm' types. His son's tutor is a young girl and she's around a lot, so he thought he'd give it a whirl. Nothing serious.”

My turn to tut-tut. “Work with me here. I'm trying to find a reason for anyone other than Alan to be the murderer.”

Bridgy looked at the big round clock over the door and waved her arm to erase our conversation. “You have the Teen Book Club meeting today. Time to get ready. We can hunt for motives after the kids leave.”

I glanced at the clock and saw she was right. I pushed Tanya Trouble's murder to the back of my mind. Well, not too far back.

Holly Latimer and two of her high school classmates arrived early for the Teen Book Club. They sat down at Emily Dickenson, dropping book bags all around them.

I took out my order pad. “Hungry, ladies?”

“Grumbly-stomach hungry. Today is early lunch day because we have double-session Advanced Placement Math. We haven't eaten in hours. I swear I could absolutely faint.” The girl with sun-bleached brown hair pulled back in a ponytail that reached her waist wrapped her arms across her stomach and doubled over.

I recalled that her name was Angela and she had a flair for the dramatic, so I humored her. “Sounds serious. Do you need menus?”

The girls telepathically tossed the question to one another and eye vibed the answer. “No, we're in synch. Your menu items have such fabu names, we never forget the ones we like.”
The curly-haired blonde whose name I didn't know beamed a smile, and I noticed that the bands on her braces were a very patriotic red and blue, pulling back snowy white teeth. “I want a
Swiss Family Robinson
Cheeseburger. You know I love those cheeseburgers so much that I finally read the book. Obvi, it was mad awesome or I would have given up the burgers.”

After some delightful teenaged giggling, Angela gave me a nod. “I'll have the same. Medium rare. Extra onions.”

“Eww. Onions. Who'll want to kiss you with onion breath?”

Angela reached back and pulled her ponytail over her right shoulder. “You'd be surprised.”

The giggles moved up several levels to gales of laughter. As it subsided, I looked at Holly, who asked if it was too late in the day for eggs.

“Never too late. How would you like them cooked?”

“
Green Eggs and Ham.
Hashtag
salsa verde
yum.”

I took their drink order and came back with two waters and a sweet tea. When I thought of all the sugary drinks that I drank growing up, I was always surprised by the number of kids who came into the café and ordered water. Then again, so did their parents.

As I set the glasses down, the girls did that “talk to one another without saying a word” thing again. Then Holly muttered, “Angie” under her breath. Angela reached over and tapped Holly's arm saying, “No. You.” The blonde stared out the window like she was sitting alone and waiting for someone.

Holly gave a decisive nod and took a deep breath. “Sassy, we were wondering if you needed any help, like, with finding Mrs. Lipscome's killer.”

“I'm not looking for any killer.” I crossed my fingers behind my back.

“Sure you are. And look what happened the last time we had a killer on the island. Nearly killed you, too.”

I so wished people would stop reminding me about that. I found myself quoting Aunt Ophie. “Well-mannered ladies do not inject themselves into dangerous situations.” I shook my finger in their faces and used the sternest voice I possessed. “You stay out of this. I am leaving the investigating to the deputies. You are to do the same.”

Only the little blonde looked the least bit bothered by my harangue. Holly and Angela were bouncing happily in their seats. They looked at each other, did the metal-telepathy thing and then Holly yelped. “Too late. We already helped.”

My knees actually buckled. I sat in the one vacant chair at their table. “You did what?”

“We helped.”

All three girls were nodding at me like bobblehead dolls at hurricane speed.

I looked directly into Holly's eyes. “And what did your mother say?”

Ah, the power of “mom.” The very thought got the girls squirming in their seats.

Holly looked at the salt and pepper shakers for a while. “We didn't tell our moms. Not because we're afraid to get into trouble or anything. We wanted to tell you first.”

Again, the bobbleheads.

I was horrified at the thought of these girls doing . . . I don't know what. So I asked. “Please tell me exactly what you did so I can gauge the danger. And I will have to speak to each of your mothers. You understand that, right?”

The bobbleheads slowed to a more somber up-down, up-down. Full stop.

“Everyone knows that our neighbor Mr. Ertz, the wrestler guy, threatened Mrs. Lipscome. I even heard him once. Mega-loud and double cranky.”

Bridgy came out of the kitchen and brought the girls' food order to the table. I pointed to Holly. “
Green Eggs and Ham
.” Then I swung my finger to Angela. “Extra onions.” The final plate went to the curly blonde.

The girls started to open napkins and pick up cutlery. They realized I'd gone silent and looked at me, confusion in three sets of eyes. I nodded. They began eating with massive enthusiasm. I guessed they were right about lunch being far too early.

I was short on patience and I knew the other kids would be showing up very soon for the Teen Book Club. I needed answers. I gave them a few minutes and then said, “Okay, let's talk while you eat. Holly?”

“So, you know I live right across form Mr. Ertz. We”—she circled her hand around the table to indicate her coconspirators—“were on my patio and FaceTiming from my iPod Touch—it's fifth generation—to Angie's mad-awesome iPad.”

Angela pulled a hot pink case out of her backpack and set it on the table. “Totes fabu, right?”

Fabulous though her new iPad may be, I was more concerned about whatever trouble the girls might have wandered into on their devices, so I asked the evident question. “Who did you FaceTime?”

All three girls rolled their eyes in perfect synchronization. Then Holly tried again. “I
told
you. Me and Angie. We FaceTimed each other.”

Clearly I was losing my ability to understand. “I thought
we were talking about some, well, some investigating you'd done. Now you tell me you were on FaceTime while sitting next to each other on the patio. Sorry, not following.”

Holly slowed down as if she was explaining to a two-year-old. “Okay, so, we set up the FaceTime and then we went to play soccer in the street. Daphne”—she indicated the blonde—“kicked the ball into Mr. Ertz's side yard, and then I ran in to get it and propped my iPod Touch up against the patio screen. Mr. Ertz and the man in the slick suit went right on talking.”

Light was beginning to dawn. “And you three listened in on the iPad.”

“Now you're catching on. They were talking about Mrs. Lipscome. The man we didn't know said that the world would be a better place without her. I mean, really, who says things like that?

“Mr. Ertz called her a female dog, you know, the ‘B word.' Said he was glad the ‘B word' was dead. Then the other man told Mr. Ertz not to talk like that otherwise the sheriff would consider him a suspect.”

The door opened and the other three members of the Teen Book Club came in. I waved them to the book corner and Holly dropped her voice to a whisper. “Mr. Ertz said, ‘Don't worry, they can't prove a thing.' Then he laughed like . . . like a jackal howling at the moon. It was scary.”

I stood, ready to let the girls eat in peace and get the other young clubbies settled, when Angie said, “Wait. We took a screenshot.” And she let her fingers walk around her iPad screen until she pulled up a picture. At first I thought it was grainy but then I realized I was looking at two pairs of legs through the mesh of the patio wall.

Holly said, “The hairy legs belong to Mr. Ertz. We don't know the man in the pants.”

I looked closely. Gray sharkskin dress slacks. Goddard Swerling. He might have been there about the swimming pool lawsuit, but I knew for sure civil law wasn't his only area of expertise. Was his criminal law practice the real reason for their meeting?

I stood and motioned to the girls' plates. “Finish up and I'll stall the meeting with a plate of cookies.”

Sounding like the little girl she was when I first met her, Holly asked, “You're not mad at us, are you, Sassy?”

I couldn't help but smile. “No. Not mad. Just worried for your safety. Let it go for now. Eat up.”

The two boys sitting in the book nook nearly jumped on the plate of chocolate chip cookies I passed around. Jenna, who was the youngest of the teen group, took one and said, “No more, thank you.”

They were still munching when the three teen detectives joined us. After some shifting of chairs and rummaging through backpacks, we were ready to talk about
Treasure Island
. Angela held up her hand, then remembering we were far less formal than school, asked, “Who picked this book? I wasn't here last month and I would have x-ed it right off the list.”

Larry, a muscular boy who played tackle football and was an expert long-board surfer answered. “Me. I suggested the book. What's your problem?”

Angela grimaced. “Surfer dude. I should have known.”

“Known what?” he snapped back.

“You'd pick a boy book all about pirates and sailing and such. We promised no girl books, no boy books.”

I hadn't foreseen this dustup, but before I could interfere,
Holly offered an opinion. “It's not a boy book.
Treasure Island
is an adventure book. I don't know about you, but I love adventure.”

Daphne agreed. “Sure. Girls love adventure. Like with the iPad, iPod thingy.” She went no further, because Holly's glare stopped her in her tracks.

Jenna piped in, “Oh, new app? Tell me later.”

Angela and Larry sent air daggers with their eyes and then pretended the other didn't exist for the next hour until Angela said, “Jim Hawkins was younger than we are and he had the courage to go on the
Hispaniola
with that violent and dirty crew. And then the mutiny! Even though he's just a kid, he is majorly loyal to Captain Smollett and Squire Trelawney. Hard-core, really hard-core.”

Larry tilted until his shoulder touched Julio, who was sitting between him and me. Then he stage-whispered, “I thought she said it was a boy book. I thought she didn't like it.”

Julio said, “I know, man.” But I was probably the only one to hear him since Angela roared back, “I never said I didn't like
Treasure Island
. I only wanted to know who chose it.”

I held up my hand. “Stop. Right now. You two can argue later if you wish, but we are not going to waste our time listening to you.” I plastered a bright, cheery smile on my face. “Now whose turn is it to pick the next book?”

You'd think I asked them to walk on jellyfish. Not a word. Finally I picked up the cookie platter and passed it around. “Okay, finish these off. I'll pick the next book and email the name to you later on today. Anyone change their email addy lately? No? Good.”

Bridgy met me at the counter. “What was that all about?”

I shrugged. “Who knows? Might be young love. Remember
how you and Mary Baronne's brother fought all through our junior year of high school and then he asked you to the Bishop Ford High School prom?”

“I forgot all about that. I do remember that I had a good time, but I think that was because Mary went with somebody so we hung out. How did we not rope you into coming along?”

“I was ‘going steady' with what's-his-name, remember? He didn't go to Bishop Ford.”

The kids finished their cookies and gathered their pile of books and bags and backpacks.

When Holly came over to say good-bye, I said, “Tell your mother I'm going to call later, or she can call me when it's convenient for her. You might want to talk to her first.”

Holly, completely resigned to the inevitability that her mother would have to be told about the escapade involving Mr. Ertz, was back to her usual bubbly self. “No probs. I'll talk to her and ask her to call you.”

She turned to give me a final wave as she and her friends bounded out the door.

My first thought was, if Lieutenant Frank Anthony was irritated when he thought Pastor John and a few veterans might wind up acting like what he called the “Estero Boulevard Irregulars,” I could only imagine that he would go ballistic at the thought of three teenaged girls spying on suspects, real or imagined. I'd have to talk to the moms. I decided to call George while I waited to hear from Maggie.