Pier Pressure (30 page)

“You were going out?” Punt eyed his dad's black silk shirt, his white walking shorts.

“After a bit,” Beau said. “Plenty of time for a visit. What brings you here this morning?” He beckoned us inside, and again he kept his back to the chair where Margaux had died as he started to lead us upstairs to his study.

“We won't delay you if you have a meeting,” Punt said, stopping just inside the doorway.

I wondered if Punt was getting cold feet. Would he drive over here and then find an excuse to leave without telling Beau his big news?

“I'm getting ready to go to The Wharf.
Going to meet Jass for lunch. This's the first Key West showing of her lavender hibiscus. She planned to make our lunch a quiet twosome, but I'm guessing it'll burgeon into something larger. Why don't you two join me? We'll make it a real celebration.”

Before Punt could answer, a delivery truck parked behind the Karmann Ghia and a boy strode up the sidewalk carrying a hibiscus plant in full bloom. When he thrust it into Beau's hands, Punt tipped the boy, who pocketed the bill and hurried back to his truck.

Beau opened the card tucked among the lavender blossoms, read it, and then passed it to us.
A first for your garden with all my love, Jass.

“How gorgeous!” I stepped back onto the porch for a moment, looking around the yard, mentally selecting a place for Beau to plant Jass's gift. I saw hibiscus plants in rainbow colors—all colors except the new lavender. I stepped back inside. “This plant really is a first for you, Beau?”

“Yes, of course. When Jass keeps a secret, she tells nobody. You probably know she kept all her experimental plants under lock and key until she knew for sure her plant had won at Miami. Now I'm guessing people'll be seeing it throughout Key West. Jass has worked and waited a long time for this success.”

“She's named it Scott's Beauty,”
Beau said, “honoring her former fiancé.”

Nobody said anything for a few moments, then Beau led us on to his study. Papers lay scattered on his desk and a red light glowed from the mouse beside his computer.

“What's on your mind?” Beau looked at Punt.

Punt reached for his billfold, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Beau. I knew what it was although Punt had forgotten to share one with me when we were at his new office.

“Fotopoulos & Ashford Agency,”
Beau read aloud. “Private Detectives.”

For a moment Beau said nothing, and we waited. I hardly breathed, wondering what Beau's reaction would be, wondering how Punt would cope if Beau flared in anger. Maybe I shouldn't have come to witness this scene.

“It's something I'd talked Nikko into before Margaux's death,” Punt said. “Her murder made us galvanize our plans, get them up and going. Our family needs more help in solving this murder than the police are offering, maybe more than they're able to offer. Nikko's wasting his talents at The Wharf.
Oh, cooking can be a sideline for him, of course, a hobby. He's good at that, too, but he has the know-how to do undercover detecting. He has Moose to help him, to help us. Key West needs the three of us to keep the police on their toes. Nikko's going to supervise me while I qualify for my license.”

Punt's super-long speech belied his calm exterior, but Beau had listened quietly to the whole thing without interrupting. Now he shook his head as if in amazement and his face lighted up with a smile that included both of us.

“Well how about this!” Beau slapped Punt on the back then shook his hand in a grip that made Punt wince. “What a wonderful surprise, Punt. I think you and Nikko will make a great detective team.”

“Key West does need a detective agency,” Punt said, as if he hadn't already made his point. “Now you won't have to go to Miami for help.”

I wondered what would happen if Beau said he'd rather seek professional help in Miami than to deal with newcomers to the business, but how unfair of me. Nikko and Moose weren't newcomers.

“Are you going to show me your office?” Beau asked.

I could almost feel Punt relaxing, enjoying the moment. “Sure, Dad, but you were leaving to meet Jass.”

“Jass doesn't know it, but I've called photographers from several newspapers to meet her and me at The Wharf.
She can entertain them while I get a first-hand look at your new office. Lead the way and I'll follow.”

We hurried back to the car and drove quickly as we could through the heavy traffic to Fotopoulos & Ashford.
Punt grinned as both he and Beau parked in the reserved slots. Nikko welcomed us at the door, and Moose opened one eye from his napping place beside Nikko's desk.

“Congratulations, Nikko,” Beau said. “Punt's told me the good news and invited me in for the grand tour.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nikko said. “I'll let Punt play tour guide.”

I sat in the client's chair beside Nikko's desk while Punt did his thing, and when he and Beau finished talking, Beau sat down near Punt's desk.

“You two will make a go of it,” Beau said. “You've got the expertise and the desire and I'm behind you all the way. May I be your first client?”

“That'd be great, Dad. We need to bring everything we know about Margaux's death into the open. Jass, Keely, and I've been discussing murder suspects since last Sunday morning. We can use your input. Right now, my big goal's to keep both you and Keely from having to face more police interrogation. Keely's business is already falling off due to negative publicity.”

It seemed ages ago that Jass, Punt, and I had drawn up our list of suspects. Punt now pulled the creased sheet from his desk drawer and pushed it toward Beau. “We've eliminated a few of these people. Jass and I have strong alibis and so do you. We'll keep yours quiet as long as we can, Dad. No point in giving the police or the press any unnecessary information.”

Beau flushed. “The police know, but I'd like to keep my diving fiasco out of the newspapers if I can.”

“We've met a guy who'll vouch for Consuela's whereabouts last Saturday night,” I said, trying to change the subject and lessen Beau's embarrassment about the diving accident.

“Is he the sort of person who'll be believed in court if he has to testify?” Beau asked.

“He's a shrimper,” Punt said. “They're not the dressy kind, but maybe with a haircut, a clean shirt…”

“Nobody expects a working seaman to show up in a business suit, shirt, and tie.” Nikko smiled at the thought. “If the guy should have to appear before a jury, we'd better let him look natural. It's the dressing up that'd alert a jury to phoniness.”

“It'd help Consuela's cause if she'd stop telling everyone who'll listen how much she hated Margaux due to their unfortunate writer/editor association.” Punt shook his head in frustration.

Beau nodded. “That's Consuela's way of attracting attention.”

“One of her many ways,” Punt added.

“Not much anyone can do to hush Consuela,” Beau said. “She's out to win fame and fortune one way or another.”

“If she's not careful she might win it on the witness stand,” Nikko said.

“Who else's on this list?” Beau smoothed the tally of names on the desk top and pinpointed each entry with his thumbnail as he ran down the list. “Let's forget about Jude for the moment. Harley Hubble phoned me with the news about Jude earlier this morning. At least we know he's no longer a danger to anyone. Street people? You think a stranger may have shot Margaux? With Keely's gun? I think that's a stretch.”

“You're probably right,” Punt agreed. “At the time I thought that might be a possibility, we didn't know the murder weapon belonged to Keely.”

“So that leaves Otto and Shandy Koffan.” Beau refused to meet anyone's gaze. “I suppose Otto might think he had good reason to get even with Margaux.”

“Jurors might think that, too,” Punt said.

“I don't want to discuss Otto Koffan,” Beau said. “At least if I have to discuss him, I'll do it with my lawyer beside me. I suppose it looks to the world as if I whisked Margaux from his loving arms, but it didn't happen quite like that.”

“What about Shandy?” I tried to change the subject from Otto.

“She told me she went strolling on Saturday night. Even told me some of the things she saw, but so far I haven't had time to check them out.” Mr. Moore's thoughts about Shandy played through my mind, but I said nothing about them.

“We need to check her alibi,” Nikko said.

Beau glanced at his watch. “Listen, people. I do have to get to The Wharf
and
meet Jass.” He leaned forward. “Before I go, I want to hire you two to handle this case for me. I'll help you all I can, of course, but I want you to really dig into alibis, maybe investigate people the police may overlook.”

“Sure, Dad,” Punt said. “That's what we hoped you'd say.”

“So what's your fee?” Beau pulled a ballpoint from his pocket. “I want to sign a retainer before someone else snaps you up.”

“This one's on the house, Dad. If we solve the case, the advertising will be great for our new business. Nikko and I have already talked this over.”

“Giving out freebies doesn't mark the pathway to business success,” Beau said. “What's your fee? You have discussed fees, haven't you? Come on, Nikko, give me the word.”

Without looking to Punt for approval, Nikko said. “Our fee's five hundred dollars a day plus expenses.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Beau clicked his ballpoint. “Where's your business form? I'll sign it and back it up with enough cash to cover a week or so.”

Nikko pulled a form from his desk drawer, filled in some names and dates, and handed it to Beau who read it, filled in a blank, and signed a check for an amount I couldn't read, but an amount that made both Punt and Nikko smile.

“This'll be day one,” Beau said. “I want to know you two are hard at work while I'm dining with my beautiful daughter.”

Beau stood, shook hands with Nikko, then offered his hand to Punt. As they shook hands, Beau pulled Punt to him in a warm embrace that left them both blinking back moisture.

“In the movies, they'd call that an embrace of reconciliation,” Punt said.

“In real life, that's what I'd call it too.” Beau gave Punt a pat on the back as Nikko pocketed the retainer and smiled. The Fotopoulos & Ashford Agency
was off to a strong start.

Beau had his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave when the door opened, revealing Detective Curry ready to enter. The same low-level dread I felt every time I saw him washed over me. This time it pleased me to see his car parked in a tow-away zone even though nobody seemed at hand to perform an immediate tow-away.

“Good afternoon, Detective,” Punt said. “How may we help you?”

“Please excuse me,” Beau said, looking at Curry. “With your permission, of course. I'm leaving for a previous appointment.”

Curry nodded to Beau, then his gaze cut to Nikko and Punt. “My business here today concerns these two men.”

Beau headed toward his car and Punt offered Detective Curry a seat, repeating his question. “How may we help you, Detective?”

“I've heard about your new business and I'd like to see your licenses.”

Nikko pointed to the framed license hanging on the wall behind his desk. “It's authentic. You can check it out.”

“What about you, Mr. Ashford? You have a license?”

To hear Punt called Mr. Ashford surprised me so I almost missed Nikko's reply. “Punt's my assistant for the time being, sir.”

“Consider me Nikko's secretary, if you will,” Punt added. “I'm learning the ropes, but I've applied for a license and I have all confidence that in due time it'll be forthcoming.”

“Miss Moreno, I hadn't expected to find you here,” Detective Curry said. “I'd intended to stop by your place of business as soon as I left here, but since you're present, you've saved me a trip.”

Nobody said anything as we waited for him to continue. I didn't want to hear whatever he intended to say next.

“Miss Moreno, tomorrow the media will carry the news that the murder weapon in the Ashford case's registered to you.”

I'd been expecting this. One shoe had fallen when I'd been identified as the person finding the body. Now the second shoe had fallen. I said nothing and Detective Curry continued.

“This revelation may have far-reaching repercussions. The police department's asking the public for help. We're asking anyone who knows anything about this gun to contact police headquarters immediately.”

“Who could possibly know anything about my gun?” I asked. “I thought it lay hidden in my desk drawer.”

“So you've told us,” Curry said. “Tomorrow we'd like to ask you more questions about that. We're requesting that you to report to headquarters at five o'clock tomorrow afternoon. That'll give the public the whole day to respond to our urgent request for help. If you don't have transportation to my office, I'll be glad to send a driver for you.”

“I'll drive Miss Moreno there,” Punt said. “Miss Moreno and her lawyer.”

Thirty-One

AFTER CURRY LEFT us we sat there without speaking, and I could feel a dragnet closing in on me. Shandy and Otto still loomed large on our list of logical suspects. Had we overlooked someone? Did the police have more evidence that might link me to Margaux's murder? I sighed. What evidence could be more damning than to have found the body and to own the murder weapon? If I hoped to prove my innocence I'd have to act quickly, but I had no idea of what to do next.

“I'd say Otto might be the logical person to approach next,” Punt said.

“Suppose he'll talk to us willingly?” Nikko asked. “Remember, we're professionals now. That may scare him into silence.”

“If I went with you, it might help put Otto at ease,” I said. “He comes to me for therapy. He's used to talking with me. You two could ask the questions, but I think seeing me with you would help keep him calm.” I didn't add that being with them would help keep me calm as I faced a man who might welcome seeing me take a murder rap for him.