Key West (6 page)

There hadn’t been any discussion since Chris Talon had all but marched her to the back door of the Rusty Nail in the small hours of the morning and hammered with a fist until Bo appeared, with Roy close behind him. Talon had thrust Sonnie at the two men and told them she needed a bed, and that she needed “to be saved from herself—and me if she tries to make me responsible for her again.”

She grew hot all over at the thought. Roy couldn’t be farther from the truth about Talon’s feelings about her. He considered her a nuisance. She said, “Thank you for putting up with me. I’ve been such a burden to you.”

“Nope.” Roy shook his head. He’d removed the hat, and his red hair was still damp from the shower. “Not a burden at all. There’s plenty of room, and we like company. Sonnie, why don’t you stay on with us until you’re on your feet again? Chris was right to bring you to us last night—this morning. We didn’t talk much, but you were so scared.”

“I was embarrassed at disturbing everyone. Thanks, Roy, but I need to make myself settle in here.”

“I don’t push people. And my brother never used to. You must have hit a nerve. But you can change your mind and come to us anytime. Pick up the phone and I’ll come get you. Understand, now?”

“Thanks, Roy, but I—”

“Don’t say what you won’t be doing. Just leave it that you can. Okay?” He looked at the box in her hands. “You going to open that? I’ll be takin’ a look around the house before I go.”

She started to protest but he was already starting up the stairs. “Your brother must have said something to you about me being scared,” she called after him, annoyed that Talon would wait until she was shut away in Bo and Roy’s guestroom, then spill everything she’d told him in confidence. “It’s not true.”

“All Chris said was that you might be a bit too uptight to be alone here yet. That’s all. And how you’d gotten jumpy here last night and gone to him.”

Increasingly irritated, she followed up the stairs. “In other words, he did say I was frightened.”

“You were, weren’t you?” He’d reached the landing that circled the second floor.

“No.” Why pretend?
“Yes, I was. But I...Well, when I met him last night I hoped he would help me, and when he wasn’t interested, I think I was confused. I went back to see if I could convince him I wasn’t a flake. Hah! Great job I did. Look, Roy, this isn’t your problem. You’ve already done too much for me.”

“Good ol’ Chris is going to help you. You’ve got to be patient with a fella like him. Give him time to convince himself it was his idea to work with you all along. You two will be just dandy together. You heard a door slam up here?”

Good ol’ Talon had spilled
all
the beans. She bit back what she’d like to say about confidentiality and told Roy, “I’m sure the wind blew it shut.”

“I didn’t notice if there’s a floor above this.” He studied the domed skylight with a chandelier suspended from its center, and the high walls that rose on all sides of the second story.

“Just the attic. I’d considered raising the roof to build more rooms—” She stopped. She’d wanted it converted to more rooms for the children she’d hoped to have. “Don’t worry about me, Roy. The daylight makes everything look very normal.” White on white paint glistened. Plaster medallions at the centers of beaded panels bore yellow roses.

“Night always follows day, kid. That’s one of those absolutes. It’ll come around again. Just let me put my mind to rest. I’ll take the tour—if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. I think you’re just about the nicest man I ever met.”

“You don’t know Chris well enough yet.”

She wouldn’t tell him she thought his arrogant, rather nasty brother was emotionally crippled and she didn’t much care why. She also wouldn’t discuss her problems with Roy again. The idea of Chris Talon being coerced into helping her made her ill.

“Chris hasn’t had an easy time of it. But he wouldn’t appreciate my mouthing off about his personal stuff.”

“He didn’t mind mouthing off about mine to you.” Her tongue could be too quick, and too undisciplined.

“All he said was that you’re stretched too thin. And he doesn’t think you’re well enough to cope—physically well enough. These doors are all shut. Sοnnie. Were they shut when you left the house last night?”

Talon thought she wasn’t physically fit? She wasn’t, but how would he know? Α limp, sometimes with both legs, and a few visible scars didn’t mean you were an invalid.

“Were they shut, Sonnie?”

She held a banister to steady herself. “They were shut when I was last up here.” She took a breath and admitted, “I’ve been sleeping on a pullout sofa in the parlor. I do need to get properly moved in.”

Their eyes met, but Roy was too diplomatic to comment. “So the doors couldn’t…Well, they probably couldn’t have slammed shut, could they?”

“No.”

She and Roy looked at each other again and didn’t have to say that they both wondered how a door could slam if it hadn’t been opened by someone.

“You felt someone in the house?”

Talon again. “Stupid, I know. Just that weird sensation. I’m too touchy.”

“You’ve been through a lot. The accident. The recovery had to be hard. Then finding out your husband had been grabbed like that.”

She took a moment too long to say “Yes,” and knew by the quizzical expression in Roy’s eyes that he had noted the hesitation. “What else did your brother say? About my stupid visit? And about what he found out on his wonderful computer?”

“He didn’t say your visit was stupid. He only said you needed a place to stay for the night.”

“But he told you about my accident, and—”

“This isn’t such a big place. I didn’t need Chris to tell me your history. Your husband is a celebrity. That makes you a celebrity. The whole island talked about your accident and how you were airlifted to Miami. Then there was the story about what had happened to Frank Giacano. A lot of stuff gets talked about in a bar. Liquor does that.”

“I guess it does.” Sonnie regarded him somberly. “I didn’t…I didn’t think people would remember anything about me. I suppose there are lots of theories about Frank.”

“Open the flowers.”

In other words, there were a lot of theories about the Giacanos. Sonnie untied a green ribbon from the shiny white box and slid off the lid. The heavy scent of white calla lilies swelled forth. Sonnie hadn’t eaten and the aroma sickened her.

“Hmm,” was Roy’s reaction.

She picked up the enclosed envelope and opened it. Typed on the card inside was:
Lilies, as velvet white as a baby’s skin-as white as the satin in her only bed. Take care, Sonnie.
She bowed over the box and struggled to catch her breath. “Your favorite flowers?” said Roy.

She shook her head. “I hate them.”
White satin in her only bed.
Jacqueline’s tiny casket. Who would do this? Who hated Sonnie enough to torture her—and why?

“Υοu’d better let your admirer know you don’t like them,” Roy said, and laughed self-consciously. They both knew he wondered who had sent the bouquet.

“The card isn’t signed.”

He settled his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and frowned. “Florist must have left the name off. Call and ask ‘em to check.”

“I will,” Sonnie said. “Later.” She crammed the lid back onto the box and quelled an impulse to throw the whole thing in the garbage. The horribly obvious message terrified her.

Roy proceeded to open the nearest door and walk into a bedroom draped with sheets. Sonnie looked past him at blue-flowered paper above white wainscoting, and sheer white draperies closed over French doors with a clear fanlight above. She had fallen in love with this house the day she’d found it. In disrepair then, it had swiftly become as beautiful as it was meant to be.

“Leave the doors open,” she told Roy. “Please.”

“You’ve got it.” Following Sonnie, he went from room to room.

The only times Sonnie hesitated were when Roy went into the nursery next to the master bedroom, and into the storeroom where she thought she’d caught sight of a light the night before. She stayed out of the nursery. Nothing looked out of place in the storeroom.

Back on the ground floor, they went into the kitchen. “Can I make you some coffee?” Sonnie asked.

Roy shook his head. “I do need to get back. But I’ll check on you later. You’ll be at work tonight?”

“Oh, yes,” Sonnie said. The idea of spending an entire evening there overwhelmed her. But she had to ask, “If you knew all about me, why did you offer me a job?”

“I didn’t know who you were when we met, Sonnie. You were a pretty woman drinkin’ tea alone each afternoon. You looked sad, and I’ve always been real good at makin’ it my business to cheer people up. I thought you could use company.”

She rubbed his arm and smiled up at him. “You were right—about everything. You are one nice guy, Roy Talon. And so’s that Bo. Are you sure I don’t put off customers, though?”

He frowned at her. “Put off customers? How would you do that?”

“I don’t remember jokes and I’m not...Roy, I’m not a real asset to the Nail.”

“You’re a great asset. Some of those assholes—shit, I mean...Don’t listen too close, please. Some of our fine clientele are even starting to ask when you’ll be in. I’ve even heard it said that you bring class to the joint. Can’t imagine anyone thinkin’ it didn’t already have enough class, can you?”

“No, Roy,” Sonnie said. He was absolutely one of the best.

The phone rang and they looked at each other. When Sonnie made no move to answer, Roy picked it up. “Hello? Uh-huh, you’re in luck, bro.”

Sonnie slid the flowers onto the counter and backed away. Roy signaled for her to stay in the kitchen.

“A-OK,” he said. “Nope. Looks fine. Nothing unusual unless you count bouquets from anonymous admirers.”

Sonnie’s stomach made a leap. The only people who knew where she was were Billy, their Dad, and Sonnie’s Mom. They weren’t likely to send flowers with notes that weren’t signed, and they knew she’d detested calla lilies since her grandmother’s funeral when she was a young teenager.

“That fancy florist on Whitehead Street. Moss Corner? Okay, I’m on my way now.” Roy covered the mouthpiece and said, “You sure you’re okay, Sonnie? On your own, I mean?”

“I’m fine.” She would be fine.

The instant Roy left, and without giving herself time to think, she started pulling drapes from the downstairs furniture. Dust flew and swirled in sunlight through the windows she opened.

Already the day was heating up.

By noon every grimy sheet was piled in the laundry room or already taking its turn in the washer or dryer. The familiar domestic sounds made Sonnie feel almost carefree.

Twice she’d caught sight of Just Ena, or her lodger, on the opposite side of the shrubbery fence, and waved. Then she’d turned purposefully away. These people meant well, but Sonnie wasn’t in the mood to make small talk. And she didn’t like knowing she was being watched.

The crunch of wheels on the gravel driveway stopped her. Her body tensed and her scalp felt too small.

People—normal people—had visitors for a variety of completely harmless reasons.

A car door slammed.

Roy was back to check on her. She quelled a giggle. Before she could reach the front door, a key turned in the lock and Romano Giacano walked in.

Five

“Chris? Do I know a Chris? Νο, I don’t know him anymore, but would that be ace schmuck and deserter Christian J. Talon, formerly of NYPD.”

“Save it, Flynn,” Chris said into his cell phone. “I need a favor. And fast.”

“A favor? Fast? I’m about to hang up this friggin’ phone.”

“Thanks for all the understanding you’ve always given—”

“Υοu quit the force and left town. You didn’t give me a chance to be understanding. I haven’t heard a friggin’ word from you in two years. I don’t even know where you are.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, keeping his eyes on Sonnie Giacano’s pretty and very expensive house. “Sorry about that. I always intended to make contact. I thought I’d do it when I finally got my shit together. When I do, I will. I’m looking at a New York plate. I need to know who owns the car. Will you fix that for me, Flynn?”

“I’ m a cop—you’re not. Cops don’t run makes for civilians. Against the law. Gimme the plate. And a number where I can reach you. Someone in Traffic owes me a big one. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

Chris grinned and recited his cell phone number, and the particulars from the back license plate on a white Jag ΧΚ8 parked in Sonnie’s driveway. He doubted it was hers because he’d seen her driving the rented tan Camry parked to the left of the house and covered with poinciana petals. The Jag’s windows were tinted his least favorite color—as close to black as they came. There was no reason Sonnie shouldn’t have a visitor with New York plates, but everything she’d told him had made him think she didn’t have a whole lot of friends.

And he had a feeling, the kind of feeling he’d forgotten about, but which he recognized the instant it hit. When he and Aiden Flynn had been partners, Flynn would know Chris was “visiting dark places” just from his still silence.

Sonnie was frightened. Her supposedly funny comment about showing up dead in the morning hadn’t been all joke. She’d already said she thought someone might have tried to kill her.

In the past half hour Chris had ridden his Harley slowly past Sonnie’s house—twice—trying to convince himself he was doing so to please Roy. Roy was worried about his latest good cause, and Chris ought to want to help his brother.

The Jag had shown up in the last few minutes—while Chris was too far away to witness the arrival.

What help would it be to Roy to have Chris cruising back and forth on Truman Avenue and looking at Sonnie’s house? He didn’t like the Jag.

He didn’t like the feeling he was having. Someone sent Sonnie calla lilies with an unsigned card inside the box. And she not only disliked them, but, according to Roy, she had turned pale and looked as if she might collapse.

Calla lilies were funereal, weren’t they?

His phone rang and he clicked it on. “Yeah?”