Sex in a Sidecar (26 page)

Her eyes opened wide. “How did you know?”

I knew because it was what I would have done for Jimmy. “It doesn't take a genius and if I can figure that out so will the police.”

“But they can't prove it. They have to be able to prove it.”

“Tanya, what if someone saw him?”

She shook her head softly in denial, not wanting to hear it.

“Did he go into the house when he left the dunes?”

“I don't think so. He just went back and got in his car and came here. He was all wrinkled and damp from being outside.” Her face brightened. “Besides, if he'd seen a dead body he would have freaked. He can't stand the sight of blood, even his own.”

“You have to tell the police he wasn't here with you.” Her jaw clenched. “No. I went to the police station and signed a statement saying Ethan was here with me from eleven o'clock until he went to the B&T at eight-thirty. I'm not changing it.”

“But you can't lie for him.”

“Yes I can,” she hissed. “I'll do anything for him. Anything.”

“You'll be an accessory to a crime. Was Ethan in Asheville before he came to Cypress Island?”

“What does it matter where he worked before he came here? All that's important is getting Ethan out of jail and I need your help for that.”

“There's nothing I can do. Don't forget the jewelry. If they can prove it was Bunny Lehre's, or if the cops found any of the other stuff reported missing, he's going to jail for theft even if they don't get him for murder. There's nothing you can do to help him with that.”

Tears welled and spilled over the brim. “That can't happen. It just can't happen.” She stamped a bare foot. “Can't you see how unfair that is, to send someone like Ethan to prison? It would be a death sentence. A horrible, nasty death.”

“He'll survive.”

My callus words set her prowling the room like a wild animal in a cage. “No he won't. It'll kill him!” She stopped her pacing and whipped around to confront me. “Or someone in prison will kill him.”

Next door a loud argument broke out. Tanya didn't hear them. Her head was filled with visions of Ethan in prison. “They might just as well take him out and shoot him.”

“Are you so sure he's innocent?” The argument ended with a door slamming.

“Ethan wouldn't hurt a fly. I know he isn't perfect but he's not cruel. Sometimes he brags and lies even when there is no need, just to impress people. He wants people to like him. He just tries too hard, that's all. He'd never hurt anyone. Never.” Anger exhausted, she started crying.

I got to my feet and went to the kitchen where a limed saucepan sat on the stovetop. In a knee-jerk reaction to trouble, I filled it with water and turned on the burner. While the water boiled, I poked around in the cupboards for mugs and instant coffee. I slopped some hot water into the powdered coffee. There was no milk. I carried the mugs over to the futon.

Tanya looked up, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and reached out for the mug I held towards her.

I plunked myself down in the canvas chair and asked, “Have you and Ethan been together for a long time?” not really wanting to know but just trying to find something that wouldn't start her sobbing again.

She nodded. “Since grade school.” She dried her face with the flat of her hands and then wiped them on her jeans. “We lived close to each other.” “So you saw a lot of each other.”

She put her feet up on the edge of the futon, leaned forward; she put her cheek on her knees with her arms locked around them and rocked herself gently. “In high school I went over every day after school and stayed until just before his mother came home. We…” she stopped rocking and raised her head to me, and then gave a little shrug.

I got the picture.

“Mrs. Eames didn't like me, didn't like anyone to get too close to Ethan.” She dried her nose on her denim-covered knee and resumed the rocking. “He didn't have any friends. She was just so mean.”

“At least Ethan had you.”

She gave me a tender wistful smile. “I was twelve the first time we did it.”

She was a beautiful woman, soft and delicate, but her next words destroyed the sense of sweetness that surrounded her. “It was on his mother's bed and I was dressed up in her nightie, lipstick and everything.” She gave a little giggle, her hand fluttering over her body.

In a dreamy little voice she said, “Ethan brushed my hair like hers. He should have been a hairdresser; he's awfully good with hair. He always does mine.” She ran a hand through her tousled mass and then reached out for the mug on the arm of the futon.

The memory of their earlier conversation on the patio made me ask, “What about his mother? How did she die?”

Her body jerked and her coffee cup flew off the arm of the futon. “ Don't talk about that.” “Maybe you should think about it.”

“What do you want to know for?” Indignation fought with fear on her face.

“I just wondered if there was anything in his background that might make the police suspect him, might make their case stronger.”

“No.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Nothing.”

“They're going to find out if there is. Ethan won't be able to hold out.”

They were words I soon regretted.

I left Tanya to her worries and went to Defino's Grocery store.

I craved normal and there's nothing more normal than grocery shopping. I went wild. I walked slowly up and down every aisle, dumping cheeses, Brie, Blue, Vermont Cheddar and a goat cheese covered in walnuts into the cart. Then I was seduced into fresh rolls and two kinds of fresh bread to go with the cheeses. I piled in enough steaks and pork tenderloins for multiple dinner parties, plus fresh shrimp and stone crabs.

Grocery shopping as therapy was new to me but it was a hell of a lot healthier than the stuff I'd done in the past to make myself feel better. This was only going to make me fat, not kill me.

On the way home I made one more stop. I went into a florist's specializing in orchids and bought a Cattleya orchid, a grand showy spike and the first thing beside my clothes and a toothbrush that I'd ever brought into the apartment.

I'd barely stashed all my goodies when my cell rang. It was Ethan.

Shocked, I said, “Where are you? Do they allow cell phones in jail?”

“I'm at our apartment. They let me go.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Tanya told them I was here with her so they had to let me go.”

“She hasn't told them the truth yet? You can't drag her into this, Ethan.”

“Look it's only for a little while. They'll find out who did it and then it won't matter.”

I wasn't as hopeful as he was. “They'll find out she's lying; anyway, this puts me in a gator hole. Tanya told me you weren't with her.”

“Don't tell. Please. Just for a couple of days. Please.” I sorted through my options. I had to say I wasn't feeling real kindly towards Ethan and Tanya. I just wanted them out of my life but was there any need to call Styles?

“Please,” he begged again.

“One day. If Tanya hasn't told them by tomorrow night, I will.” I didn't even wince delivering my ultimatum, godlike and sure.

“Okay,” he whispered, total defeat in his voice. “Can I come in for my shift tomorrow?”

“No!” The word exploded out of me. “Are you crazy?”

“But we haven't any money. I need to work.”

“Look, this isn't some minor little thing like spilling a drink. This is murder. It isn't going to blow over or go away.”

“I know that. Don't you think I know that? But I have to work. We've got to eat.”

“You'd be as welcome as a fart at a church social. If you show up with a tray of drinks they'd run screaming from the place…right after they lynch me.” There was a muffled sound from his end and I realized he was crying. Still my sympathy was thin. “Tell Tanya I'll keep quiet for one day!” I said and punched the end button.

I slammed the phone onto the counter, angry with Ethan and Tanya but most of all outraged at Deanna for getting killed.

Could Ethan, the guy crying down the line, wait in the dark for Deanna to walk in front of a window so he could shoot her? I still couldn't see it. Tanya could have shot her. Tanya was far stronger and probably the far more dangerous of the two. Maybe Tanya didn't want to blow Ethan's alibi because it gave her one. I shivered.

I needed more normal so I pulled out pots and pans. I tossed a huge salad, fried shrimp and made rice like Isaak had showed me with grilled pineapple and roasted chilies. It was enough for ten people. Oh, excess, I've always been way into excess, excess takes the hurt away.

It was almost midnight when my buzzer rang.

I went downstairs to meet Styles.

He was wearing the same beige suit, the same insipid beige tie with the same brown brogues on his feet as when I'd last seen him. Or perhaps they were clones. But there was a difference this time. His tie was undone, his suit was wrinkled and he looked like the straw man with the stuffing kicked out of him. I knew it was bad.

When we got to upstairs I took him out to the conservatory where the cloying scent of Peruvian lilies filled the air. “Sit,” I said.

He slumped down like he didn't have the strength to hold himself up any longer. “What happened?” I asked.

“Ethan Eames and Tanya Jones are dead. They committed suicide.”

When I could breathe I got to my feet and slid open the doors to let in the fresh air of the gulf. Then I went to the wicker bar cart and poured a scotch. When his fingers wrapped around the glass, I said, “Tell me.”

“Ethan Eames is dead. Tanya Jones is dead. They went out to Wreck Beach and put a hose from the exhaust pipe into their car. They sat there with the doors locked and let the carbon monoxide kill them.”

“Oh my god.”

“I pushed him too hard and he took her with him.”

“It wasn't you.” The news of Deanna's death was nothing compared to this. Self-loathing and regret was worse than anger and fear. “It was me.”

I had to fight to get the words out. “I told them I was going to tell you that Tanya was lying. Ethan wasn't with Tanya when Deanna was murdered.”

He cocked his head to one side, thinking about it. “I came down real hard on him tonight when he called to say he wanted to come back to work at the B&T.” Tears snaked down my cheeks. “I was just so damned upset about Deanna's death I had no sympathy for anyone else. He'd lost his job, he was cuffed and taken into custody and things were only going to get worse. I didn't do anything to help. You were at least doing your job.”

Styles sat holding his scotch in both hands, elbows on splayed knees, staring at a spot on the floor.

At last he said, “I was so sure I had the right guy. Still am.” His conviction didn't show. “Why would he kill himself if it wasn't true? And why would he take her with him?” He looked up at me as if he really expected me to be able to answer. “He was weak, a predator that lived off women, he couldn't face going to jail. I told Tanya he was going to jail.” My stomach heaved at what I'd done. “Tanya wasn't going to let him go to jail, no matter what it took.”

Styles wasn't listening to me. “I didn't care about the jewelry. I wanted him for murder. I didn't have enough to convict him for either murder. That's why I was pushing so hard for a confession.”

“Was Deanna killed with a gun registered to Samantha?” I asked.

“I won't know until we find the weapon.”

“Was it the same gun that killed Gina?”

Styles gave a dry exhausted sigh and said, “We'll have to get the forensics back to be sure.”

“Gina probably had Sam's gun, brought it down with her. I think she was planning to use it on the man she thought killed Sam.” I was trying to make the pieces fit. “The person who killed Gina, stole the gun from her.”

Styles set the glass down on a side table and covered his eyes with his hands, rubbing hard at them, trying to wipe away the tiredness. He gave his shoulders a shake, trying to pay attention to what I was telling him. “Did Ethan even know Gina?”

“I couldn't make any connection. But they both knew Mrs. Lehre so they could've met through her.”

My mind took one of those right angle turns that drive people bonkers. “Did you get my message?” I asked.

“Yes. That's why I'm here.”

Right, I thought, that's why you're here at this time of night.

“Gina's cousin came to see me, the guy who inherits.” I tucked my feet up beneath me on the lounger and pulled a chenille throw over me against the cool night air. “His name is Eric Schievner. A real smooth guy, he came down here from Chicago, stopped in North Carolina to pick up Samantha's car and drove the rest of the way down to Florida. He told me Sam's gun was missing from her house in North Carolina, which means he was looking for it. But why?” I repeated the conversation, as close as I could. “I got a real strong feeling that he didn't want to talk to the police or he would have gone to you instead of coming to me.” “I wish you had told me this earlier.” I didn't remind him that I'd tried.

Styles picked up his glass, emptied it and pushed it towards me across the glass-topped coffee table, silently asking for a refill. I ignored it. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“No.”

“Come on.” I tossed back my cover and led the way to the kitchen. “This is your lucky night. Or maybe not, I'm new to this cooking shit. Ruth Ann's idea of fine dining came in cardboard, leftovers from whatever restaurant she was working in.”