Read to Death (16 page)

Chapter Thirty

I came to a full stop, one foot resting on the curb, and Maggie was shaking me so vehemently that my falling on the ground was not outside the realm of possibility. She was super excited.

“Say something.” Then she remembered her manners. “You remember Jake Gilman.” The older man dressed in jeans and a denim work shirt gave me a brief nod.

Maggie finally released my arms. “Ryan Mantoni showed up at Jake's house this morning with a picture of Tammy that had been sent along by some sheriff in South Carolina. Jake identified her.”

Poor Jake. He was usually so blustery, and now his cheeks colored at every mention of his name. I got the feeling he'd rather not be the center of attention even in our tiny group of three.

“We came to tell you and Bridgy the news, but with her
mother inside, we asked for you. Bridgy said you'd be right back. We thought it best to wait out here.”

I was still reeling. “Tammy seemed so nice. So normal. I can't imagine her killing anyone.”

Maggie patted my arm. “I know. Think about the movies on the Hallmark Movies and Mysteries channel. The killer is never the person you would think. It's always some nice, unimportant character with a really weird motive. You'll tell Bridgy, won't you? I have a class to teach. C'mon, Jake, I'll drop you at home.”

They took a few steps across the parking lot, and then Jake turned back to me. “I'm really sorry that my rental caused you all this trouble. Tell your friend. Apologies.”

No wonder he was so awkward. In his mind, if he hadn't rented to Tammy, Oscar would still be alive and Bridgy wouldn't have been under suspicion. Poor Jake.

There was a small crowd of customers in the café, but Bridgy and Emelia didn't seem harried, so I was right on time. I signaled Bridgy to meet me in the kitchen, but Emelia grabbed my attention first. She was bubbling with excitement and half pushed me behind the counter.

“I've been dying to show you what I bought. Bridgy loves it.”

Next to our electric teakettle I saw a shiny new gadget, about two feet high. Emelia picked up a tall stainless steel cup and pushed it over the spindle on the machine. The whir of the malted mixer brought back childhood memories of going to the local ice cream parlor on Saturday afternoons.

“I couldn't believe that you had this great restaurant but no malteds on the menu, so right before I left home I emailed Miguel and he ordered the malted milk machine
and a case of malted milk powder. It arrived in this morning's delivery from the restaurant supply house.” She stopped the machine, poured the thick, creamy chocolate malt into a tall glass and handed it to me. “Drink up. I even have a name for the drinks. Are you ready?”

Desperate as I was to talk to Bridgy about Tammy's arrest, I couldn't stomp on Emelia's sheer joy. And the malted did look delicious. I took a sip.

“
Maltese Falcon
. Get it? MALT-ese. And you have the Dashiell Hammett table right over there. He wrote the book.” Emelia stopped, waiting for applause, and I gave it, loudly. She flushed with pleasure.

Bridgy came over and put an arm around her mom. “Isn't she the best? Why didn't we think of . . .” Her face grew serious. “Excuse me.”

Owen Reston was in the open doorway waving Bridgy outside.

I hoped he had good news. “Tammy Rushing was arrested” kind of good news. I set my malted on the countertop and went from table to table to ask if our customers needed anything, all the while keeping my eye on the front door.

Two fishermen came in and ordered four breakfasts for takeout the next morning. I marked the order “paid” and put it on Miguel's tracking board.

When Bridgy came into the kitchen, Miguel was at the stove and I was putting two grungy mustard jars in a soak pail to get them clean enough for the recycling bin.

“Before I talk to Mom, I want to tell the two of you. Tammy Rushing was arrested somewhere called Manning, South Carolina. She was pulled over for speeding, and there was a warrant out for her. So they arrested her.”

“A warrant? For killing Oscar? Then why are we still answering questions at every turn?”I was hoping to finally get the full story.

Bridgy gave me that famous look of hers, the one that said, “Wait for it.”

Fortunately, she didn't make us wait long. “No. The warrant was issued in the state of Alabama.”

Then she stopped talking. I was used to her antics, and given what she'd been through, I was willing to let her play, but Miguel was having no part of it.

“
Ay, chica
. Tell us the whole story. We have lunches to serve.”

“Well, Tammy Rushing's real name is Tammy Rushing Lynn. Did you know she's a trust fund baby?”

I shook my head while Miguel motioned for her to speed up by rotating his hand in an ever-faster circle.

“It seems that she married Mr. Lynn, whoever he may be, and it didn't work out. Well, I know a lot about that, don't I? Anyway, Tammy got hit with a large settlement and has to pay heavy-duty alimony. It looks like she got tired of supporting him, so she skipped more than a year ago. She was happy enough to be here for the winter, but with the murder . . .”

“. . . she didn't want anyone looking at her too closely.” I finished her sentence. “You got all this from Owen?”

“Yes, Frank Anthony called him. He wanted Owen, and by extension me, to know the straight scoop before it got all over the island that Tammy Rushing Lynn was arrested for Oscar's murder. It's alimony court for her and a ‘NUMBER ONE SUSPECT' sign still hanging around my neck.”

The kitchen door opened, and a stressed Emelia stuck her head around the door. “Need a little help here, girls.”

The lunch rush was on.

Halfway through the most crowded hour, Bridgy and I pushed the Barbara Cartland and Dashiell Hammett tables together for a family group. The parents each held a toddler, one grandma carried an infant and the other three grandparents carried assorted toys or baby paraphernalia. I offered high chairs for the toddlers. At first the mom said “no,” but then she changed her mind. “We may as well try. They really are getting too big to sit on our laps at the table.”

As I went to get the chairs, I heard one of the grandfathers say sotto voce, “That's what you been telling her, Ethel. She don't listen.”

Apparently, he wasn't as soft voiced as he thought he was, because the toddlers' dad said, “Pop, we'll raise our kids our way. Okay?”

I brought two toddler chairs along with some plain paper and crayons. I put one chair on each side of the parents and placed the paper and crayons in front of the mother.

I left them with menus and grabbed a pitcher of sweet tea to offer refills. Emelia was just ahead of me with coffee and decaf. It was nice to have an extra set of hands during the busy hours.

The toddlers were happily scribbling with their crayons when I went back to take the family's order. Then the grandmother, whom I assumed was Ethel, said, “Take those crayons away. She's drawing on the chair.”

Pandemonium. They were all talking at once. Accusations of bad parenting flew back and forth. Finally, the toddlers' father stood up. “Mom, you have got to stop telling us how to raise our kids.”

I couldn't help but notice that the grandmother who was
rocking the sleeping baby had a bit of a smirk, as though she was pleased that the other grandma had started the brouhaha.

I took a step back from the table until they quieted down. Then I asked the mother, “Do you want anything for the children? I can put their orders in while the rest of you are deciding.”

Both sets of grandparents immediately began studying the menu. The mother asked for chicken fingers and applesauce for the toddlers. “And a small glass of milk for James. Janey is lactose intolerant, so we brought lactose-free milk for her. She'll need a glass, if that's okay.”

I gave her a wide smile and held it for a few extra seconds until I was sure the grandparents saw it. Then, louder than I needed to, I said, “Sure, that's great. You're a smart mom.”

When I placed the children's order on the pass-through, I nearly bumped into Emelia, who was filling the teakettle. I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Bridgy and I are lucky to have you and Sage as moms.”

She smiled her thanks. I was feeling so lucky to have such great “mom support” at our time of crisis that I couldn't wait to drive down island to pick up Sage and Skully.

The entire time they ordered and then ate their food, the family group continued to bicker, but it didn't bother me at all. Their nonsense reminded me how great my own family is. Sage might move through her different “phases” and be obsessed with auras, or aurae, as she liked to call them, but she was always in my corner. Proof positive? She was here. Even when I didn't ask, she knew I needed my mom. As soon as the café crowd dwindled, I took off to see my mom. I wasn't going to wait for her to call.

Hector Clifford's place was tucked in a corner of the
island so far south that I was almost at Lovers Key when I started to think I might have missed the turnoff. Then I saw the neat hand-painted sign, green letters on a worn slab of wood, “FLOWERS and HERBS” hanging from a shepherd's crook light pole.

I made a quick left. Too quick. Gravel scattered from under all four tires. I wished I'd paid more attention when I dropped them off. Then I remembered. I was in such a hurry to get back to the café, I made a U-turn and barely slowed down to drop them off. Is that any way to treat a mother who loves you? I promised myself that I would be the perfect daughter forever more, or at least for the next little while.

I parked the Heap-a-Jeep next to a dust-covered Silverado that had once been dark blue by the look of it but now had a black fender and a lot of rusted scrapes. I heard voices behind the house. I found Sage surrounded by plants, some in clay pots, some in rectangular baskets.

Hector Clifford, a thickset African American man, was explaining something about a plant Sage was holding. He leaned over to show her the leaves, and his wide-brimmed straw hat slid down on his forehead. When he straightened and pushed the hat to the back of his head, he noticed me.

“Be right with you.”

Skully came out of a shed carrying a pretty plant, green stems, bluish green leaves with a touch of mauve. “Hey, Little Miss. Hector, this is Sage's daughter.”

Hector gave me a broad grin. “You the one named Sassafras?”

I laughed. “That would be me.”

“Shucks, Tom here's got your plant. Momma wanted to surprise you but too late for that.”

Sage took the plant from Skully's hand. “Oh my.” She
slowly moved the plant from right to left and back again. “It is absolutely perfect. I have never seen a sassafras plant so lush. I can't imagine how gorgeous it will be in full flower.”

“It's a mite young, yet. Probably won't bloom this season. This type will grow to shrub not to tree.” Hector turned to me. “Momma said you live in an apartment. Not much use for a tree, I suppose.”

“Oh, but a shrub could live forever on my patio. I have just the spot in mind.” I grabbed Sage and gave her a big ole bear hug, the kind I'd watched Bridgy give her mom and aunt for years. “I love you, Mom.”

Sage squeezed me as hard as I squeezed her. Then she laughed. “I am thrilled the plant makes you so happy. Your aura is glowing.”

Sage and Hector talked a bit more about south Florida horticulture and what's edible and what's not. She promised to come back again before she left for Brooklyn. I felt a pang at the thought of her leaving.

I opened the jeep's tailgate. Judging by the pots and baskets, it seemed like Sage had overbought, but I didn't care. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I was this carefree. The moms were here. Everything would be okay.

Chapter Thirty-one

We dropped Skully back at Pastor John's church. I got out and helped him unload some beautyberry plants that Hector had sent along as a gift to the church. As I was closing the tailgate I lowered my voice so Sage wouldn't hear.

“Thanks for the tip about Oscar's boat. I found the
Jersey Girl
on Pine Island, just as you said, but before I could search it, a security guard chased me away. Do you have any idea how I could find out what's on the boat?”

“Little Miss, there is only one thing to be done . . .”

I waited for Skully's best idea.

“Tell those young fellers in the sheriff's office. Let them do the searching. Whatever they find will likely help get Bridgy out from under their watchful eyes. They are trained to find things. You're not.”

Disappointed though I was, I had to admit he was right.

When Sage and I got back to the Read 'Em and Eat,
Bridgy and Emelia had finished the dining room cleanup. I could hear them in the kitchen. Ophie was sitting at Emily Dickinson with her cell phone to her ear. She touched her index finger to her lips in the universal “shush” sign. We froze for a moment and then tiptoed past her. In the kitchen Bridgy and Emelia were unloading the dishwasher while Miguel was hanging a sparkling-clean apron on a hook for the next day.

“How was your garden trip?”

Sage was so enthusiastic that she didn't realize Miguel was more polite than interested. She sprang into a long speech about elderberry wine and then moved on to ground nuts and potato beans, which may or may not have been the same thing. It was hard to tell, but it did sound like Sage was using the terms interchangeably.

By the time Sage moved on to the healing properties of echinacea, Bridgy was rolling her eyes at me and touching her hands in a prayerful pose as if begging me to make Sage stop. But I was newly appreciative of my mother's unswerving support and was perfectly content to let her babble along.

Fortunately, Ophie burst into the room, just ending her phone call.

“Thank y'all so kindly.” She clicked off the phone and did a little dance, scary to watch with those mile-high sandals on her feet. She waited, an expectant smile on her face. When no one asked why she was so excited, she caved.

“Emy, darlin', yesterday y'all asked me about the shrimping history of Fort Myers Beach. Told me Bridgy mentioned the Working Waterfront Tour run by our local chamber of commerce. I called the chamber office and, being an active member”—Ophie raised a hand and waved
at us as though she were the Queen of England—“I have, this very minute, arranged for a private tour for the three of us, first thing tomorrow. Sage, y'all coming with?”

Sage said, “Absolutely, I wouldn't miss a chance to study the waterfront up close and personal. Ophie, you're sweet as a hyacinth. Thanks ever so much for arranging the tour.”

“
Señoras
, you will enjoy yourselves immensely. Did you know Lee County is one of the most important counties in Florida when it comes to harvesting seafood? And the shrimp that comes in on San Carlos Island is so fine, so fresh.

“I have an idea. Before you leave, I will order pounds and pounds of shrimp and we will have our own shrimp festival.
La fiesta
will be at my house. And you can meet my sweet Bow. She will eat one boiled shrimp, chopped very fine. We'll all eat dozens of shrimp cooked in a variety of ways.”

We were all clapping and cheering when the kitchen door pushed open. “How many times do I have to tell you to lock the front door when everyone is in the kitchen?” Ryan Mantoni stood in the doorway. “And what's this about a
fiesta
? Who's having a party?”

“You are invited,
mi amigo,
and bring the lieutenant. We need to pick a date and make a list of friends . . .” Miguel trailed off when he realized Ryan was wearing his well-pressed dark green uniform. “You're here officially, aren't you?”

“'Fraid so. I need to talk to Sassy for a minute. Don't mind us. You go right on planning the party.” He waved me into the dining room.

“I know the lieutenant called Owen to let him know
that Tammy Rushing had turned up in South Carolina. I figured you'd be disappointed that we didn't arrest her straightaway.”

“I was at first, but then I realized if her reason for running had to do with money and her ex, she likely had nothing to do with Oscar's murder.”

“That's why you shouldn't run for sheriff in the next election. Never bet on the ‘likely.' I'm here, off the record, to let you know that while South Carolina and Alabama are getting their paperwork done, we are sending Tina Wei and another deputy to interview Tammy one more time. Maybe there is something that connects her to Oscar. Something we missed the first time around.”

My heart soared. “Thanks for telling me.” I head-butted toward the kitchen. “I won't say anything. It wouldn't do to get Bridgy's hopes up that this mess will be over sooner rather than later.”

The kitchen door opened, and Ophie came out with a piece of buttermilk pie and set it down in front of Ryan.

He jumped up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Miss Ophelia, you do know the way to a man's heart. I will always bless the day that you brought your buttermilk pie recipe to the Read 'Em and Eat, and your lovely self along with it.”

Ophie fluttered her eyelashes and gave Ryan a gentle pat. “Aren't y'all a handsome, sweet-talking man, and couldn't y'all charm the eagles right out of the sky?”

When she offered coffee, I smiled and, hoping she'd take the hint, said, “Ryan is in a hurry and barely has time to eat your luscious pie.”

“Well, okay, then. Holler if you need anything.” And she sashayed back into the kitchen.

Before we were interrupted again I asked, “And Lolly? Any word about Lolly?”

Ryan swallowed a huge chunk of pie before he answered. “Lolly's name is Conrad Lolis. All anyone seems to know is that he went off to look for a job on the mainland. That could mean anywhere in Lee County or the entire state of Florida or all of North America, who knows?”

I gave him a withering look, and he lost his flippant tone.

“Unless we get lucky like we did with Tammy, it could take a good long while before we find Lolly and can question him. We've interviewed all his friends, called the one out-of-state relative that we know of, a sister out in west Texas, but all she could say is that he was looking to change jobs. He never told her he was fired from the
Fisherman's Dream,
and she had never heard of Oscar.”

The laughter and chatter in the kitchen sounded so normal, and yet here I sat with Ryan, talking about murder.

I took a deep breath. “Have you searched Oscar's boat, the
Jersey Girl
, yet?”

Ryan gave me a sharp look. “Oscar's boat? How do you know Oscar had a boat? No, don't tell me.” For a second I thought he was going to cover his ears in “hear no evil” monkey style, but then he continued. “You better tell me. The lieutenant is going to want to know.”

When I mentioned Skully and Tony, Ryan chuckled. “Should have known. Nothing floats on these waters that one or the other of those two don't know all about, including the size of the engine or the manufacturer of the paddles.”

“There is one other thing.”

Ryan turned serious. “Go ahead.”

“A security guard at the repair shop found me on the boat, and I, ah, pretended to be Oscar's niece.”

“Good to know. This way when the security team gives us the information, we won't go to wherever and back looking for a niece who doesn't exist.” There was no chuckle left in his voice. “So, did you remove anything from the boat? Steal a clue or two?”

I tried to muster up some indignation, but we both knew I was capable of being “helpful,” and if I'd seen anything that I considered suspicious, I'd have picked it up.

“No. I wasn't on the boat long enough. It's a thirty-footer with a decent-sized cabin. I didn't have enough time.”

“Don't look so disappointed. We'll give it a good going-over. If there is anything there, we'll find it.” He looked at the clock over the door, grabbed his napkin and ran it across his mouth. “Got to run. Thanks for the info, and tell Miss Ophelia the pie was lip-smackin' good.”

I locked the door behind Ryan and brought his plate into the kitchen where the party-planning committee was in full swing.

Sage said she would dress up as Madam Dora the Aura Reader and entertain the guests. Normally, I blanched when she volunteered to show her wacky side beyond family gatherings, but today I just beamed.

Bridgy elbowed me in the ribs. “What is wrong with you? You are glowing as if we found a new kitten and your mother said you could keep it.”

“That actually happened. Third grade, remember? Black-and-white little fuzz ball. I named her Oreo.” And I blew a kiss to Sage, who caught it with her left hand, pasted it to her lips and blew one back to me.

Miguel was busy taking notes as Ophie and the moms were throwing suggestions at him.

“We have to have pie.”

“What about music? Is there room to dance?”

“Oh, and lots of young men. We need young men to dance with our daughters.” That one certainly proved that Emelia was related to Ophie.

Finally, Bridgy clapped her hands like a kindergarten teacher. “Enough party planning for today. If you ladies want to stop at Times Square to do more shopping, we better get to it. Let Miguel get out of here. Bow will be wondering where he is.”

“
Ay, sí
, she will be looking for her treat. Each day after work I give her a tasty treat, to let her know I did not forget about her while I was gone. You will finish here?”

I nodded. “Of course. Come, I'll lock the door behind you.” At the door I said, “I think the party will cheer Bridgy no end. Thank you for thinking of it.”

Miguel smiled. “
Mañana,”
he said, and he left, but not before clanging the ship's bell in farewell.

When I went back into the kitchen everyone was in such a festive mood that I made a mental note that we should have parties more often.

“I wish I could go to Times Square with y'all, but I have a late appointment at the Treasure Trove. A decorator from Sanibel looking for special items for a fussy client.
Ca-ching
.” And Ophie was out the door.

Sage wanted to go back to the Turret to stash her plants and seedlings. It took two trips on the elevator to get them all upstairs. With piles of palm fronds stashed on one end of the patio and the potted plants, flats of seedlings and baskets of herbs spread around on tables and the floor, there was barely room to move.

Were it not for my newfound appreciation of her motherly love, I would have been counting the days until
Sage flew home so I could get rid of all this greenery and make the patio livable again. But for now, patio or no patio, being with Sage gave me the warm fuzzies. We decided to walk along the beach to Times Square. Sage looped her arm through mine. “You know, my sweet hydrangea, Emelia and I are onto your tricks.”

I did some mental gymnastics, trying to figure out where Sage was heading. Which of my tricks had she caught on to? I decided silence was my best option, although I knew I wouldn't get away with it for long.