Someone's Watching (33 page)

Mr. Weiss moved the cups of tea out of the way and put the newspapers down on the coffee table in front of Kate.

The newspapers went back several days. Kate went through the front page of every section first, examining the photos of men.

Robbie was conscious of the clock ticking over the piano, Geezer lying on his side by the club chair panting in his sleep.

If Kate could identify the blackmail victim, they would very likely have the answer to who was behind the murders. Jeremy would be free.

Kate reached for the next section. There was a photo of a man on the front page. She stared and sucked in her lower lip.

Robbie looked at the familiar photo.

Jeremy leaned over the paper. “Stanford Fieldstone? Was that the man?”

Gina’s husband? Not possible.

Kate tugged on a strand of silky black hair.

“Do you recognize him, Kate?” Jeremy asked again.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t think so.” She tugged at her hair like she wanted to pull it out.

“But something about him is familiar to you?” Jeremy said.

“I don’t know,” Kate said. “The man at BURN was wearing big black glasses and he needed a shave.”

Robbie looked more closely at the photo. She imagined the face with eyeglasses, with the shadow of a beard.

“But it might be?” Jeremy asked. “It might be the same man?”

“Yes. No.” Kate sucked in her lip. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Please, Kate.” Elise came over and sat down next to Kate. Her face was pale, her freckles like a spray of fine dirt across the bridge of her nose. “If you think you know who was with you that night, tell us.” She glanced at Jeremy, then turned back to Kate. “Please. I don’t want to lose my brother, too.”

The clock ticked, Geezer panted.

“I’m not positive,” Kate said. “Stanford Fieldstone wasn’t his name. It was something else.”

“What?” Jeremy asked.

Kate pushed the newspaper away from her. Her eyes watered. “He was a nice guy. He wanted to help me.”

“And what did he say his name was?” Jeremy asked.

Kate said it so softly that it took a moment for the name to register, to match what Robbie was hearing in her own head.

Robbie closed her eyes and pictured him sitting across the bar at The Garage. The glimmer of charisma she could see when he smiled, the manicured fingernails that were out of place for a boatman, the cocktail napkin he’d left beneath his cap with a sketch of a rose and a phone number.

Stanford Fieldstone was Puck.

And Puck was a murderer.

Robbie felt clammy all over. “I need to go outside for a minute.”

She noted the strange looks everyone gave her as she left the living room, then went through the old-fashioned kitchen and out the back door into a small hedged-in backyard.

She walked down the three steps and sat on the bottom one, her bare feet in the soft, freshly mowed grass. The bushes were so high the neighbors’ properties weren’t visible. In the corner of the yard, someone had planted flowers and rose bushes. Probably Elise.

Clouds shifted, blocking the moon and stars. Frogs chirped in the dark, muggy air. She was reminded of Mike’s house and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself.

Puck. Was it possible?

How had he done it?

Could he have been in the bushes the night of Mike’s party, jumping out and surprising Brett after Jeremy left? She thought about the candy wrappers at the deserted house next door. He could have hidden there.

And then, was he the man in the floppy hat waiting at the pool for an opportunity to attackTyra and Kate? The murderer was a busy man. He would have had to jump in his car and drive back down to Key Largo, sneak into the house, and kill Mike and the other guy.

It was doable. Jeremy had been in all of those places at roughly the same times.

But Puck? Puck a murderer?

Robbie didn’t see it. But then, she never would’ve imagined the wistful man at the bar was really Stanford Fieldstone traveling incognito.

She remembered back to the night that Puck confided in Robbie about his marriage. He’d said his wife manipulated him into marrying her and called her an ambitious monster. The wife he was talking about was Gina. But Robbie knew Gina didn’t care about those things, so Puck had been lying about that, as well.

A liar and a murderer. Well, of course. They went hand in hand.

But if Puck was the murderer, then he was also the person in the black car who followed Jeremy and Robbie away from Mike’s house and tried to run them off the road.

According to the news report, there had been no fatalities. So where was Puck now and what was he planning?

The back door opened behind her, then gently closed. She saw Jeremy’s leather shoes and suit pants, both splattered with mud. He sat down beside her and handed her a beer.

“Thought you could use this.”

“Thanks.” She took a swig from the bottle.

The croaking got louder, the air heavier.

“They used to fill up a plastic pool for us.” Jeremy’s voice seemed to come from a different dimension.

“Huh?”

“My grandparents. When Elise and I were little and we’d stay with them. You know, weekends or if my parents were both out of town. They had this blow-up pool. My grandfather would fill it with water.”

“That’s nice.”

“I have a lot of happy memories of this place.”

Robbie rested her hand on his knee. His strong, sturdy knee.
She knew who the murderer was. They were one step closer to Jeremy being safe. “Stanford Fieldstone is Puck,” she said.

“Yeah. That’s what Kate said. So he used a fake name. What’s the big deal?”

“Puck’s a guy who’s been coming to The Garage lately.”

“Shit. You know him?”

Robbie nodded.

“And you didn’t know he was Fieldstone?”

“No. He dressed like a boater—or at least a weekend boater. But he never let on who he really was.”

“Damn—you knew him. I thought you were upset that the murderer was Gina Fieldstone’s husband.”

“That, too. It’s a lot to absorb. Stanford Fieldstone. Puck.” She shook her head.

“But it makes sense,” Jeremy said. “Fieldstone’s career is taking off. I guess the blackmailing was too much for him to handle.”

“But—” Robbie pulled out a weed that was growing in a crack of the concrete step.

“But what?”

“He seemed so nice.” Kate had said that, too. “And I liked him. But he was putting me on the whole time. I feel so, so—” She searched for the right word. “Deceived.”

Robbie took another swig of beer. There was a vibration in her pocket. Her cell phone. She had turned it to vibrate and left it in her pocket when they were at Mike’s.

She showed the display to Jeremy. Lieber.

“Don’t answer it.”

“I have to.”

“No, Robbie. We don’t have this figured out yet. It’ll just make things worse.”

“We have to trust someone.”

He cradled his beer bottle as Robbie took the call.

“Where are you?” Lieber’s voice was clipped.

Where was she? What should she say? Maybe Jeremy was right about making things worse. “Getting ready for work,” Robbie said. “I’m on the late shift tonight.”

“Really? Because I’m at your apartment and there’s no sign of you.”

Robbie looked at Jeremy for help. He shook his head and mouthed, “I told you so.”

“And where’s Jeremy? Is he with you? His car’s at the SOBE, but he isn’t.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you looking for us?”

“Jesus, Robbie. Why are you playing games with me? Haven’t you figured out I’m on your side? That I’m probably the only one out here who’s trying to help you?”

“We’re in Coconut Grove,” Robbie said. “At Jeremy’s grandfather’s.”

Jeremy hit his head with his fist.

“Put Jeremy on,” Lieber said. “I need to speak to him.”

Robbie held out the phone. “She wants to speak to you.”

Jeremy shook his head no. Robbie kept holding the phone out for him. Finally, he took it.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

Robbie couldn’t hear Lieber’s side of the conversation.

“Sorry,” Jeremy said. He glared at Robbie. “I turned it off. I guess I forgot to turn it back on.”

Lieber was talking for a long while. A dog barked somewhere in the distance.

“I understand,” Jeremy said to the phone. “Okay. I promise.”

He closed the phone and handed it back to Robbie.

“What did she say?”

“She told me about Tyra being found dead and a couple of people describing someone who looked like me getting into an argument
with Tyra. She said she was worried about us. My car’s in the garage and your bicycle was found chained outside the building. She thought something had happened to us.”

“So she didn’t assume you killed Tyra and ran away?”

“She didn’t, but that doesn’t mean the other investigators aren’t thinking that way.”

“And you agreed to stay here until she comes?”

He nodded.

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll arrest you?”

Jeremy sipped his beer. “She said she just wants to talk to me.”

“And you believe her?”

“You’re the one who said we have to trust someone.”

“Does she know about Mike and the other guy?”

“She didn’t say anything about Key Largo.”

“What about the accident on U.S. 1?”

“Didn’t mention it.”

A light breeze carried the scent of roses. Puck. Where was he now and what was his next move? An idea was forming in her head. Robbie started to stand up.

“What are you doing?” Jeremy asked.

“I need to get out of here with Kate.”

“What do you mean? You can’t just leave.”

“Please, Jeremy. I hate to subject Kate to going back over everything with Lieber.”

“So you’re laying it all on me?”

Robbie sat back down. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t leave Jeremy now. Her plan would have to wait. It probably wasn’t viable, anyway. “I’m sorry. That was selfish of me. We’ll talk to Lieber together. Kate will be fine.”

Jeremy stared across the dark lawn as though he was looking at the blow-up swimming pool from his childhood. “Go,” he said finally. “You need to protect Kate.”

“We can protect her together.”

Jeremy pulled her head toward him and kissed her hair. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve got my grandfather and Elise. And you and Kate will be safe at your apartment. If Fieldstone is looking for her, he’ll be after a blonde girl with gray eyes.” He tensed. “Is there any reason to think he knows where you live?”

Robbie thought for a moment. “No,” she said. “I never tell any of the customers at The Garage where I live.”

Jeremy lifted her chin. He seemed to be memorizing her face.

Robbie was torn. Leave? Stay? “What about Lieber?” she asked.

“I’ll tell her about Fieldstone.”

“But we don’t have proof. Just Kate thinking he’s the guy she and Tyra brought back Sunday night. And that’s not enough to tie him to the murder spree. Everything still points to you.”

“Well, hopefully Lieber will believe me.”

“But if she doesn’t?”

“Then she doesn’t. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Robbie could smell the roses, stronger now. “Don’t say anything about Fieldstone, yet. I have an idea how to trap him.”

Jeremy put his beer down hard on the step. “No way, Robbie. We’re not doing this ourselves anymore.”

“I wasn’t planning to. I’m not that crazy. Just tell Lieber the basics. Nothing that might connect you to Key Largo. When I’m ready, I’ll call you. Then you and the police can meet me and you can tell Lieber about Fieldstone on the way.”

“Ready? Ready for what? What are you planning?”

“I don’t have all the details worked out, but I promise I’ll call you before I do anything dangerous.”

They sat inches apart from each other in Jeremy’s grandfather’s car. Two sisters, separated by eighteen years of memories that they weren’t given the opportunity to share.

Robbie drove through the labyrinthine neighborhood of Coconut Grove, avoiding dead-end streets, maneuvering toward the main road that would lead them back to her apartment on Miami Beach.

It was around midnight, and the traffic was light. Robbie occasionally glanced over at Kate, who was sitting with her head resting against the passenger-side window, as though she was watching the overhanging trees and houses go by.

Was Kate thinking how strange it was to be here with her sister? A sister she hadn’t even known existed a few hours ago?

Kate must have sensed Robbie looking at her. She tried to smile. Her facial muscles were tense and her blue eyes rimmed in red.

“You okay?” Robbie asked.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“This whole nightmare will be over soon.”

“I guess.” Kate chewed on her finger.

Robbie stopped at a red light. “I need to call Dad and tell him you’re okay.”

“Please. Not yet.”

The light turned green. They drove past the walled, gated estate
of Vizcaya. Wild bougainvillea cascaded over the stuccoed walls. “I know you don’t know me yet, but I wish you’d talk to me, Kate. Why are you so afraid of calling Dad? He needs to know you’re safe.”

In the uneven light of the passing streetlamps, Robbie could see Kate had covered her face. Beneath the thin, stained T-shirt, her shoulders were trembling, as though she was crying.

Robbie wanted to kick herself. She was rushing things. Kate wasn’t ready. And how could she blame her? Kate had just been held in captivity and abused for almost two weeks, believing she had killed her friend. After a trauma like that, how could she possibly be ready to open up?

“I’m sorry,” Robbie said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“He hates me.”

A chill ran down Robbie’s back. “What are you talking about? Who hates you?”

“Dad does.”

“No, Kate. You’re wrong. He loves you. He’s worried sick about you. He’s been here in South Beach the whole time looking for you.”

“He hates me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He blames me for everything.”

“Everything?”

Kate just stared out the car window.

Robbie turned onto a side street that wound down to the bay. She pulled up along the bayfront walk, towering condos across the road. A man and woman strolled with their dog down a street lined with palm trees. The bay rippled, undulating black moguls in the intermittent moonlight. Beyond, the lights of the Rickenbacker Causeway leading to Key Biscayne glittered like a tiara.