Chapter 10

We had arrived back at The Poinsettia in plenty of time to enjoy a sandwich and a soda before the combo played their final set. A few teenage couples performed enthusiastic gyrations to a rock tune while parents sat at the tables enjoying the soft evening. Clearly, any bad publicity about Abra Barrie and the B&B had failed to affect business.

Suddenly, Mama Gomez thumb-nailed a loud piano glissando that silenced the crowd.

“Attention please! One and all! Attention! Before our final number, we now present Ace the Drum Bum and his laser beams.”

Rex doused the patio lights and only the glow from the torches flickered across the dance floor. The crowd gathered closer to the bandstand when the combo began playing.

A few bars into their tune, brilliant lights flashed inside Ace’s black drum sticks, lights that made him look like a phantom drummer. Gasps went up from the audience and people stepped closer to the bandstand. Ace’s entranced admirers clapped when he began an intricate solo, featuring rim shots, flams, paradiddles, and many strokes I couldn’t name. His hands moved from cymbals to snare heads, and he tossed his sticks in the air without missing a foot beat on the bass. Laser beams continued to flash as he twirled one stick above his head like a baton while keeping a steady beat on the snare head with the other stick. A triple cymbal crash ended both his solo and the lasers. Rex took his cue and snapped on the patio lights again.

“More! More! Encore!” Although the crowd whistled, stamped, and clapped, Ace offered no encore. He stood and bowed before he relinquished the drum seat to Hella. After he packed his sticks into their case, he joined me at the snack bar.

“Some show, Ace.” I smiled up at him. “Brilliant. How’d you do that? Or is it a trade secret?”

“No secret. It’s my special sticks. Got laser lights set into them. Battery operated. Lights fit in a compartment with an off/on toggle switch.”

“No wonder you take such good care of those sticks.”

“You bet I take good care of them. Made from Lignum Vitae. Paid almost two hundred bucks for ’em—and the laser lights were extra. The Lignum Vitae’s unbreakable, so I’ll probably never have to replace them.”

I was still thinking about Ace’s performance when I reached for another snack. To my surprise, customers had depleted Janell’s supply of escargot and feta cheese sandwiches.

“So forget the sandwiches. How about the last dance?” With an amused twinkle in his eye, Ace reached for my hand as if he were sure I wouldn’t refuse.

And I didn’t. He was a good dancer and for a few minutes he held me tight and tapped the slow rhythm with his fingers on my shoulder. I wished I could relax into his arms, but a wariness I couldn’t shake kept me alert and on guard. How had he spent last Friday afternoon?

“You enjoy Mallory?” he asked.

I smiled up at him. “Yes. Very much.”

“Our tourist board wants visitors to think the sun doesn’t set anywhere but at Mallory Dock in Key West, Florida.”

“Maybe it doesn’t.” I grinned up at him. “Ever thought of that? Yet, I feel almost sure I’ve seen it slip down behind the cornfields and windmills in Iowa.”

“Ever been to Dyersville? I remember a cornfield there.”

“You’ve been to Dyersville, Iowa?”

“When I was a kid. Went with a church group on a bus tour to Dyersville when Field of Dreams hit in the movie theaters. No sunset that day, though. Our bus arrived at twilight in a misty fog. Eerie. You seen that movie?”

“A couple of times at a movie theater. And several times on TV. It’s one of my favorite shows.”

“As luck would have it, a group of writing students from the university had arrived in Dyersville by bus that evening along with a mobile TV unit. The writers perched on bleachers near the old farmhouse—same scene as in the movie. A bus driver was joking with one of the professors when a team of local guys dressed as old time baseball players strolled from the misty cornfield.”

“That must have been spectacular.”

“Right. Totally awesome. I watched with my nose pressed against the bus window while the guys took their places on the baseball field in silence. It was mind boggling. Even the TV men stared open mouthed for a few moments before they remembered to rev up their cameras.”

“And what happened then?”

“The pitcher threw to the catcher. Our tour guide chose that moment to let us kids off the bus and we dashed onto the field. Our leader allowed each of us a turn at bat—with the actors pitching and fielding for us. It’s one of my favorite memories. I’ll never forget it.”

I’ve never been to Dyersville, but Ace’s Field-of-Dreams tale made me feel closer to home—and to him. I left his arms reluctantly when the combo stopped playing and Mama Gomez ordered Ace and Teach to fold up the music stands and unplug the amp. This time they helped.

It was the next afternoon, Wednesday, before Janell and I finished daily chores and left The Poinsettia.

“The beach will give us privacy while we talk,” Janell said. “I have the notes I took at the police questioning right here.” She patted her beach bag. “We’ll peruse each person’s alibi, and I want you to help me decide if any of The Poinsettia people… She hesitated. “…if we need to check more deeply into their stories. I hope you’ll agree with me that we do.”

“Don’t you think the police have already done that?”

“Yes, I’m sure they have. But I’m guessing they’re probably concentrating most of their thinking and efforts on a suspected serial killer somewhere else in Florida. They’d hate finding anyone from Key West guilty of murder. We’re closer to our workers than the police could hope to be. I think we’re in a position to get important inside information.”

We passed Smathers Beach, but Janell drove on.

“Hey, Sis! You missed it.”

“Got to deliver some brochures to West Martello. The volunteer guide on duty today ran out of the ones that contained a self-guided map, and I promised to bring her some of my extras. It’ll just take a second.”

She turned onto the museum grounds, found a visitor’s parking slot, and cut the engine. “Want to come in with me? The Garden Club’s leased the old fort from Monroe County, and it’s in much better shape than it was the last time you saw it.”

“I’ve only been in the fort once, Janell. As a teenager, I had little interest in plants and gardening and I found the dark winding walkways clammy and scary, although I wouldn’t admit that to anyone at the time.” I wanted to add that I had no special interest in West Martello today, that I’d much rather be working on clues that might involve Abra Barrie’s killer.” Our club members cleaned and cleared the place and started a tropical garden by donating plants from our own home gardens.”

Janell rattled on about the Garden Club’s upbeat projects, and although I wasn’t captivated, my senses went on red alert once we stepped through the bricked entryway. This place might thrill Janell, but it still creeped me out big time. Goosebumps prickled my arms. We were the only people in sight and an uncanny quiet made me want to leave immediately.

I found the fort as off-putting as it had been years ago. The smell of penetrating damp and mildew clogged my nose. Sun shining through overhead openings onto greenery thick with vines cast snake-like shadows all around us. Bricked walkways still held a cloying dampness from the night. I shuddered. In spite of Janell’s enthusiasm, the fort made me want to run in the other direction.

“Hello.” Janell’s voice echoed in the silence. “Sue? I’m here with the brochures. Where are you?”

No response.

“Maybe she’s in the orchid arbor. Follow me, Kitt. And notice the antique Cuban tiles on the ground. They’re priceless as well as exotic. The pond with its waterfall splashing over coral stone is one of my favorite spots.”

I let my gaze follow hers, then I concentrated on the orchids. Such an array! I could understand Janell’s enthusiasm for this orchid arbor—almost.

“We’ll return another day and I’ll tell you about the orchids. This’s a wonderful place to sit and enjoy the garden, but let’s go outside and see if Sue’s somewhere on the hill path.”

I followed Janell, glad to escape from the shadowy fort to the sunshine again. The path led up a short but steep hill to a roofed gazebo with lots of lattice-work around its base. A garden of succulents grew on one side of it, and a gnarled tree surrounded by thatch palms shaded the other side. The knoll overlooked the ocean and begged the viewer to sit down, relax, enjoy. But no Sue greeted us, and we had no time to relax.

“I don’t see her up here anywhere, Sis. Do you?”

“Sometimes she brings visitors up for an ocean view if they’re agile enough to make the climb, but I don’t see anyone there today. Let’s go back down. I’ll just leave the brochures inside the entryway where she’ll find them. She must have stepped out on an errand.”

I’d had enough of West Martello. I slipped and slid down the incline and walked on toward the car while Janell placed the brochures. We drove back to the beach. Today there were plenty of parking places—metered places. Years ago beach parking had been free. We climbed up a few steps from the sidewalk to the sand, glad to be out of the path of walkers, bikers, and skateboarders.

Janell had brought two beach towels and we spread them in the sparse shade of a scraggly palm. We took care to avoid other sunbathers as well as a volley ball court where teenagers screamed and shouted and kicked up clouds of sand as they vied to whack a ball over the net.

“Now what’s the skinny?” I asked once we were settled. “On Friday afternoon, who was doing what and where were they doing it? We know now that Rex had driven to Big Pine Key’s artist’s co-op. What about you, Janell? Where were you?”

“My alibi’s as good as no alibi at all. I was at West Martello passing out brochures and answering questions. Lots of people saw me there, but no locals. All tourists. There’s no way I could get in touch with any of them now.”

“Too bad. Police like to talk to eye witnesses to verify alibis. Even then, they realize people sometimes didn’t see what they thought they saw. Surely they’ll realize you didn’t murder Abra Barrie.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“What about Hella? Where was she?”

“Out walking. Said she didn’t see anyone she knew.”

“Not much help there. What about Mama Gomez?”

“She does have an alibi of sorts. She cleans the office at the Lighthouse Museum on Friday afternoons. She says she checked in there as usual—and I feel sure she did, but only the girl selling tickets was there to verify Mama G’s presence.”

“Maybe one person’s enough.”

“But the girl was in and out of the office. I checked with her. She said she closed the ticket window between three and four o’clock and left on personal business. Put up one of those be-back-soon signs and asked Mama G to make excuses for her.”

I sighed. “I don’t think the police are going to find a woman guilty of this murder, Janell. It was too brutal. It required lots of strength. Mama Gomez and Hella are both strong women, but do you think they could overcome a younger woman who was fighting back?”

“No. I think we need to look at the men.”

“What about Ace?”

“His story gets sticky very quickly. Rex told the police he lent our boat to Ace for the afternoon.”

“A boat owner borrowing someone else’s boat?”

“Sure. I can understand that and I didn’t mind. Ace owns a working shrimp boat. The old-time shrimp fleet has moved to other territory, but Ace has permission from the city to keep his boat where it’s always been as long as he’ll open it to tourists one afternoon a week. The harbor committee considers his boat and the long-ago shrimp fleet a colorful part of Key West history.”

“They feel tourists and school kids need to see a working shrimp boat and meet its captain, right?”

Janell nodded. “You’ve got the picture, but a working boat might be smelly and dirty.”

“And Ace wanted a boat suitable for taking a girlfriend on a date.”

“Right. That night after the afternoon date, he intended to go on a one-night shrimp run, leaving Friday night and returning early Saturday morning. So he asked to borrow Poinsettia Two for Friday afternoon.”

“And Rex doesn’t minding lending your boat?” I wondered who Ace dated and how frequently. Then I wondered why I was so interested in Ace’s love life.

“Rex doesn’t like lending our boat to casual acquaintances, but he trusts Ace. Ace knows his way around boats and the sea and he’s a dependable person. Rex had no qualms about giving Ace the use of the boat for Friday afternoon.”

“So what happened?”

“That’s what we’ll have to find out. Ace told the police that he went to get the boat from the marina and it wasn’t in Rex’s slip.”

“Yet the police say they found it there later—and with blood on it. Human blood.”

“Right. The police have talked to Ace, but Rex and I only know what we heard him tell the police late Saturday night—that Rex’s boat wasn’t in its slip and he rented a boat from the marina for his date. I’m hoping you’ll talk to him and see what else you can find out.”

“Talk as a policewoman or as your guest in Key West?”

“Whatever works for you.” Janell cocked her head and grinned. “You seemed to be getting along well with both Ace and Phud last night on the dance floor.”

I felt myself flush. “Come on, Janell. I could hardly turn them down when they asked me to dance. And they both seem like good guys.”

“I hope you’re right—and I think you are. So let’s think about Teach. He has an alibi as holey as a shrimp net. Says he was flying a tourist to Fort Jefferson where they spent the day, returning around five in the afternoon. He gave the police his flight schedule as well as the name and address of the tourist who flew with him—a man from Rhode Island. Easy enough for the police to check on that. But…”

“But?”

“But about two-thirty he received a call from a local book distributor concerning his handbook on Fort Jefferson. The distributor wanted Teach to read and maybe sign some papers that might get his book accepted into every independent book store in the Keys and maybe in all of Florida.”

“Sounds like a good deal.”

“Right. But he had to fly back to Key West to peruse and sign the papers. So he left his passenger-of-the-day, with the passenger’s permission, flew to Key West to meet with this business associate. The only problem was that Teach couldn’t find the guy. They were to meet in the airport bar. Teach said he waited almost two hours, but the guy didn’t show. So he had to return to the fort in time to pick up his passenger and fly back to Key West on schedule.”

“He has nobody to corroborate all this?”

“Right. Nobody. I believe him. Rex believes him. But the police point out that he has a large window of time unaccounted for.”

I wished I could forget about Teach’s black belt, his mirrored sunglasses. I couldn’t count him out as a suspect in Barrie’s death. Like Ace, Hella, and Phud, Teach left an uncomfortable feeling in my mind.

“So that leaves Phud. What did Phud have to say?”

“He said he was at the Marathon Garden Club giving a lecture.”

“That sounds easy enough to check out.”

“Not really. The lecture took place at a luncheon meeting. He was scheduled to speak from twelve-thirty to one o’clock. There was no question and answer period because most of the ladies had to return to work by one.”

“Right. And it would take him an hour or maybe less to drive from Marathon back to Key West, depending on traffic flow. Hmm. That could leave an hour or more unaccounted for.”

“He told the police he left the Garden Club and went grocery shopping at Publix and then drove to Sombrero Beach where he sat enjoying the beach scene for a while. So—no air-tight alibi. You could talk to him, too, Kitt—maybe as a policewoman trying to help her sister. What do you think?”

I checked my watch. “It’s getting late. Once we drive home, it’ll be time to make sandwiches and prepare for opening the café.”

“Right.” Janell stood and began shaking the sand from her beach towel. “Maybe tomorrow…I don’t know where to start.”

“Is it okay with you if I talk to Hella? If she’s really clairvoyant, she should be able to ‘see’ what happened to Abra Barrie.”

“Did you talk to her about her supposed talent last night? Tell her about your problems in Iowa?”

“No. But she asked me to sit at her table and to pretend to be interested in a reading—said it would attract customers to her. Her eyes took on a glazed look and she began talking in a far-away voice. Said she saw me on a snowy night in a store with policemen. She smelled the odor of animals and gunpowder. She heard shouts. In a non-believing way, I wanted to hear more, and yet I didn’t want to hear another word. By then other customers crowded around us—including Phud. I stood, breaking her trance-like gaze.”

“You think she’s really—a clairvoyant?”

“You hadn’t told her about my problems back home, had you?”

“Of course not.”

“So how could she have known about the store and the policeman and the smells unless she saw the scene in her mind? I want to talk to her about Abra Barrie.”