Daiquiri Dock Murder (13 page)

“In what way?”

“By visiting the local chandleries and looking at the various kinds of line they carry. Just an interested buyer, that’s all I’d be. And wherever I find similar line, I’ll let you know the name of that store. Knowing where the line came from would surely be a starting point in finding who bought it, when they bought it, why they bought it. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I consider that a good starting point, but although the department’s shorthanded, I don’t want an ordinary citizen working on this case. That could cause too many problems.”

“Sir, I’d keep our agreement a secret. A policeman approaching shop owners and asking about the line would alert the owners that something was up. But I’d just be an ordinary citizen searching for craft material to make a wall hanging.”

Chief Ramsey twisted in his chair. I won’t go so far as to say he squirmed, but he came close to squirming before he spoke again.

“All right, Miss Blue. I’ll let you check out a segment of the line as long as you’re willing to sign a release that indicates this evidence is in your possession.”

“And when I return the evidence, you’ll return the release with your signature?”

“That is correct.”

“Agreed. May I take the line with me now?”

With only a nod of consent, Ramsey pulled a printed form from his desk drawer, filled in some blanks on it, and shoved it toward me along with a ballpoint. I signed the form, and he placed it in a folder, securing the folder in the gray steel file behind his desk. He then pulled the evidence box from beneath his desk, snipped off a piece of line about 6 inches long, tucked it into a manila envelope, and sealed it before releasing it into my possession.

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll get back to you about this after I’ve had time to visit some nautical shops and ask a few questions.”

“I’ll expect to hear from you soon. After twenty-four hours a trail grows cold. Time is of an essence.”

His tone and a nod dismissed me, and when I left his office, he stood puttering with the contents of the evidence box. Once in my car, I drove to Chitting Marina first because it was close by. Would Ramsey follow me? Some careful glances in my rear-view mirror showed no evidence of that.

At Chitting’s, I parked in the graveled customer’s area. After I pulled the snippet of line from the manila envelope and tucked it into the pocket of my slacks, I left my car. I crossed a planked dock where incoming waves splashed against an array of boats tethered in their slips. A pelican perched on a pine piling hunched forward as if starting to fly, then changed its mind and resettled on the piling. I entered the chandlery and headed for the business desk. In the distance someone worked with a jackhammer.

The smell of hotdogs turning on a small grill beside the cash register blotted out the stench of gasoline and diesel fuel. My mouth watered even though Kane and I had eaten only a short time ago. In moments the sound of the jackhammer ceased.

“May I help you?” A young man approached, smiling.

“Perhaps. I pulled the line from my pocket. “I’d like to buy several yards of line similar to this.”

The man examined the line and pointed to the wall across the room. There, a large display of caddies held coiled line that grew in size from very thin to almost as thick as one’s wrist.

“We have many types of line. Perhaps you can find something in our display that you can use.”

I followed him to the display. “I’m looking for something in blue. I’m planning to make a wall hanging for the great room in my home. I really need sea blue.”

The clerk shook his head as he glanced at the snippet of line I brought in and then at the wall display. “Sorry I can’t help you, Ma’am. We don’t seem to carry any in your shade of blue. Maybe another chandlery or tackle shop will have some different colors. Or perhaps you’d like to look in our catalog and find something you’d care to order.”

“Thank you, but no. I wanted to get to work on my project tomorrow, if at all possible.” I turned and walked to my car. I checked out 3 more chandleries and a bait boat without any luck. At the next store along the street—George’s Tackle Shop—an old man shuffled forward to greet me. The scent of cigar smoke clung to his gray jumpsuit that matched his beard and his gray eyes. He peered at me from under bushy white eyebrows, eyebrows that made me think of Andy Rooney.

“How may I help you, Ma’am?”

Again, I pulled out my sample of blue line and made the request I had memorized by now.

“Let me get a closer look at this.” Taking the line, he carried it to a cluttered desk where he pulled on a string attached to a huge bulb that brightened the whole area. After turning the line this way and that and then picking at its frayed end for a few moments, he chuckled. “Where’d you get this line, Miss? None of my business, but I’m curious.”

I preferred being called Miss rather than Ma’am and I smiled at him, wondering how old he was—80, 90, maybe even older than that.

“Oh, it’s just an old piece of line I found tucked away in a friend’s boathouse. Can you match it for me?”

“Afraid not, Miss. I been selling nautical supplies for a lot of years.” He examined the rope again before looking at me. “This kind of line was a best seller—in its day. But according to my memory, no company has produced this type of line in this blue shade for twenty-five, thirty years. This sample may be older than you are.”

“Oh, my. I wanted to get to work on my wall hanging today, if possible.”

“Had you considered making the hanging in neutral shades? I have lots of neutrals in many different sizes.”

“Thank you, Sir, but I’ve set my heart on blue.”

“Sorry to break your heart over a piece of line.” He laughed. “Been a long time since I broke anyone’s heart.”

“Thank you, George.” I risked using the name of the shop, and I guessed right.

“Been a long time since a young miss has called me George, too. You stop by again. Any time.”

“You’ve been a big help to me, even though you can’t supply the line I need.”

Leaving the shop, I felt George following me with his gaze as I ambled to my car and sat thinking. I tucked the line into the manila envelope and shoved it into my shoulder bag. So this line wasn’t of a kind that anyone might find readily available in today’s Key West shops.

That bit of information tempted me to report what I’d learned so far to Chief Ramsey immediately. Then I thought better of it. If this line matched the bunk box handles I’d seen on Kane’s boat… I didn’t want to do anything that might direct suspicion to Kane. But I had no way of comparing the two pieces of line without letting Kane know what I’d discovered. And if I returned the sample to Ramsey too soon, he might wonder why I hadn’t worked harder at finding a match.

The sun was dropping low, so I decided to return to the hotel, freshen up, and change into an outfit more suitable for appearing in The Frangi tonight. A long skirt? A sequined tee? Maybe some high-heeled barefoot sandals? When I opened the elevator door at the penthouse floor, Dolly came running toward me from The Frangi.

“Rafa! You recovered from your fall?”

“Sure. No big problem.” It surprised me to realize some truth of the little white lie. I’d been so caught up in searching for blue line I’d almost forgotten my bruises and sore muscles. “What’s up?”

Chapter 15

(Sunday Evening)

I thought Dolly might ask more about Diego’s murder, but no.

“Brick asked me to change the bulb in his desk lamp. He wants to start using the new energy-saving bulbs in all lamps in their mansion.”

“Good idea. I ordered our maintenance crew to use compact fluorescent bulbs in all the lights in the hotel some time ago. How can I help you now?”

“I have the new bulbs, and I’ve removed the old one from Brick’s desk lamp. Problem is I can’t get the new bulb to fit. If you’re feeling up to it, maybe you can take a look and figure out what I’m doing wrong. Could you go with me to the mansion now? Of course, if you’re not feeling up to it…”

“I’m okay, Dolly. Don’t treat me like an invalid.” I glanced at my watch. “But we’ll need to hurry.”

We took the elevator down, slipped into my car, and drove to the mansion. I parked to one side of the strangler fig threatening the banyan tree and followed Dolly inside. I’d expected to see ecru and brown décor that blended with the outside of the mansion, but no. The living room lay awash in light flowing through the jalousie windows and an overhead skylight onto off-white walls. Jewel-toned cushions on a white wicker couch and matching chairs added spark to the room. The multicolored terrazzo floor spoke of long ago when that type of flooring was popular in both private homes as well as in public buildings. Threnody had spiced the room with bright area carpets.

“How beautiful! Threnody has a great sense of color and design.”

“Threnody and Madam Carmelina at the furniture shop on Duval. Threnody fell in love with Madam Carmelina’s suggestions, but the madam met her match when she faced Brick.” Dolly grinned. “Surprises me that Brick will even get rid of an old light bulb.”

I followed Dolly into Brick’s study, looked around, and returned her grin. It was like stepping through a time warp back into another day and age. Did I imagine that musty smell, or was it real? Braided throw rugs covered the floor. Two Danish Modern chairs that might have been modern in the 1950s sat near a much-used oak desk. A brown cylinder-shaped shade lay upended beside a lamp made of foot-long lengths of copper tubing set in a brass base.

Picking up the new bulb, I tried to fit it into the lamp. “You’re right, Dolly.” I shook my head and shrugged. “Guess old lamps sneer at modern bulbs.”

“Drat! I thought maybe you could get it to work. I like to please Brick whenever I can.”

She tried the bulb again and then I gave it a second try. “Guess Brick will have to make do with old-time bulbs.”

“Threnody wants him to redecorate his study, but I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. Brick wants to leave everything left just the way it is. But thanks for trying to help, Rafa. I really try to please Brick. He’s very good to me, but this time it’s impossible.” Dolly glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to be going. Want to give the balcony at The Frangi one last sweep before you open for business tonight. I’m helping with the sandwiches, too.”

Dolly’s words made me wonder just how good Brick was to her, but maybe I was letting Kane’s comment about them influence me.

“I’m returning to the hotel. Want a lift back?”

“No. I’ll ride my bike. I’ll need it there in the morning.”

Leaving the mansion, I headed home. This long day began to take its toll. My left shoulder still ached from my fall off the balcony, and my knees developed a shaky, I’m-about-to-give-out feeling. I flopped onto my bed for a short rest without taking time to turn the satin spread aside. I didn’t wake up until an hour later when my phone rang.

When I jumped, startled at the sound, pain stabbed my shoulder. The phone rang again while I reached for the bottle of pain lozenges I’d used earlier. Drat! Empty bottle. Forget that idea. I answered the phone. Nobody replied.

“Hello? Hello?”

Dead line. I scowled, wondering who wakened me—for nothing. Maybe a wrong number. But in an instant, the phone rang again. I picked it up wondering if I’d get another dead line, and it didn’t help my mood or my shoulder to hear Dolly’s voice begging me to hurry to The Frangi ASAP.

“Have to run an errand first, Dolly. Be there soon as I can.”

My gum-shoeing, along with the time I’d spent with Dolly trying to change the light bulb had taken longer than I realized. Twilight falls quickly in the Keys and already the outside light had faded. I grabbed a green ankle-length skirt and matching tee, dressed quickly, and headed for my car. I could have called room service for a pain pill, but sometimes that takes longer than getting one for myself.

I usually love the tourist Conch Trains with their quaint canopies and clanging bells, but this evening I wanted to honk at the driver slowing me down on Duval. I didn’t honk, but I did grit my teeth, a habit my dentist deplores.

Inching along toward Fausto’s pharmacy where I knew I could find my special brand of lozenges, I suddenly came alert. Pablo! Pablo strolled along the cracked sidewalk to my right.

“Pablo!” I called to him through my car window. “Pablo!”

He looked toward me for a moment, then in the next instant he began jogging, almost bumping into a woman carrying an armload of packages. He entered a nearby bar. What was going on here! I wanted to go after him, to talk to him, but no parking place. Bumper to bumper traffic. Sloppy Joe’s. That’s where he went. I could call there later. But he’d been running from me. I felt sure of that, he started jogging the minute he saw me.

I found plenty of parking slots at Fausto’s, paid for my lozenges, swallowed one with a gulp of the bottled water I always carry in my car. Don’t know if it was the pill or the psychology of taking medicine, but after a few moments, my shoulder and knees felt better and I headed home. When I reached The Frangi, most of tonight’s workers stood gathered there, and now they hurried to greet me. I knew Dolly and Kane must have informed them of my fall. Had I been an advertising exec, I’d have snapped their picture. What a wonderful ad they’d make for The Frangipani Room.