SEVEN

All eyes followed Mitch from the solarium and watched through the window while Detective Burgundy motioned him into a patrol car, stowed his bicycle in the trunk, and drove away. The group snapped to attention when Detective Cassidy cleared his throat.

“Mr. Shipton, since you’re the owner of this property, I’ll resume my questioning with you. Your relation to the deceased, please?”

“Francine Shipton was my mother.”

“Your occupation, Mr. Shipton?”

“I’m president of Shipton Boatyard and Salvage Company.”

Cassidy’s ballpoint refused to write. He discarded it and pulled another from his pocket. After testing it, he jotted Zack’s reply in his notebook as if he hadn’t already known the answers before he asked.

“Where’s your place of business located, Mr. Shipton?”

“The main location’s on Stock Island where I maintain a business office and an active construction operation. I also moor salvage boats at my Stock Island dock so I’ll be ready to answer distress calls from boaters in trouble. Salvaging’s a necessary service in the Keys.”

“Yes,” Detective Cassidy said. “Our department has called on you for help from time to time. You have offices other than the Stock Island location, right?”

“Yes. I have a boatyard on Marathon, and I’m expanding, building a third one on Key Largo.”

“Do you visit your places of business on a daily basis?”

“I try to, but not always. It’s a long drive to Key Largo. I go there only when necessary. I’ve hired a manager on Largo who’s capable of overseeing the new construction.”

“Where did you work today?”

“I stopped briefly at Stock Island this morning before spending the afternoon at my Marathon office.”

“About fifty miles from here?”

“Right.”

“I understand that your mother had scheduled a meeting of friends, near neighbors, and not-so-near neighbors at Eden Palms tonight. An eight-thirty gathering, I believe.”

“Right.”

“Did you plan to attend that meeting?”

“Yes. The meeting concerned ideas for remodeling and reconstruction here at my home. I wanted to be present.”

“What time did you leave your Marathon office?”

“About five o’clock.”

“Did you drive directly to Key West?”

“No. Business matters interfered. I stopped at Toppinos on Rockland Key to discuss renting a crane. May have spent an hour there. Got home a little after seven. You and your people were here when I arrived. But you know that.”

I wondered if this was Zack’s alibi for his whereabouts at the time Francine died. I hoped he had an unshakable alibi—for my own sake as well as for his. I’d never sleep well knowing a killer might be living next door. I felt trapped. I guessed Detective Cassidy planned to give us all the same order he gave Mitch—don’t leave Key West without his permission.

“When did you last see your mother alive, Mr. Shipton?”

“Rather late last night. I live here on the first floor. Mother lived in a second-floor suite. Those were her wishes.”

“She didn’t mind using the stairs?”

“No. I never heard her complain about climbing up or down the steps. She recently celebrated her sixtieth birthday in good health. She preferred living upstairs. She felt it gave her more privacy—especially at night. Key West has an unsavory reputation for crime in the nighttime.”

If Detective Cassidy considered Zack’s explanation of their living arrangement a slur directed at the police department, he ignored it.

“Getting back to my question, when did you last see your mother alive?”

“She came downstairs to tell me goodnight around ten o’clock last night. We told each other our plans for today, and then she went back upstairs and to bed.”

“So nothing unusual happened yesterday evening.”

“Nothing that I know of.”

“Did you notice anything unusual around your home or your yard this morning before you left for work?”

“Nothing, sir. Everything looked okay to me. I left for work as usual and then returned much later to find—”

“What was your relationship with your mother, Mr. Shipton? Did the two of you get along well?”

“Yes. We got along fine.” Zack snapped the words, exasperation creeping into his tone.

“You never had any arguments?”

“No.”

Detective Cassidy gave a sardonic smile that never reached his eyes. “How lucky you were, Mr. Shipton. Few people living in close proximity can boast of such a placid relationship.”

Zack’s face flushed, and I thought he should have had a lawyer at hand to protect his rights. Before he could respond to Detective Cassidy’s barb about mother-son relationships, a car stopped out front. Footsteps scraped on the steps, then Detective Burgundy entered the solarium.

“Please be seated.” Detective Cassidy nodded toward the empty chair Mitch had vacated, barely taking his gaze from Zack. I thought he’d ask more about Zack’s relationship with Francine, and his next question surprised me.

“What are your hobbies, Mr. Shipton? How do you occupy yourself in your spare time? What activities do you enjoy spending money on?”

Good question. I like to read, and I know I learn a great deal about a story character by the hobbies that character pursues or would never dream of pursuing. I waited, eager to hear Zack’s reply.

The flush of anger left by Cassidy’s previous question drained from Zack’s face, leaving it ashen again.

“I like to sail. I’m building a sailboat for my own personal use. I like to fish. I spend time reading—especially about the sea. Also, I’m an amateur artist. Caricatures. Sometimes Mother auctioned my sketches at benefits, using the money for some cause that interested her. A few of her favorites hang in our rental cottage.”

“Miss Green’s temporary home?”

Did I imagine it or did he emphasize the word “temporary”? “Yes. Miss Green has arrived to take up residence on the Eden Palms estate.”

In the next instant, Detective Cassidy focused directly on me. “Miss Green, how long have you lived at the Shipton cottage?”

I felt like a germ under a microscope. Since I’d arrived after Francine’s death had taken place, it surprised me that Cassidy wanted to question me. Had someone hinted that I might have killed Francine? I struggled to keep my voice pleasant.

“I arrived only this evening. Francine Shipton had offered me a job as her secretary and aide. Housing in her cottage was to be a part of my payment.”

“What time did you arrive, Miss Green?”

“My plane landed around seven-thirty. Due to traffic gridlock I didn’t reach the cottage until almost nine o’ clock.”

“Can you explain the lag time between the plane landing and your arrival on the Shipton premises?”

I could and I did, skipping the parts concerning my interview with Quinn Bahama and my encounter with the intrusive vendor. My account must have been enough to satisfy Detective Cassidy. His gaze returned to Zack.

“Had you noticed any unusual activity around your house in the few days preceding your mother’s death?”

Zack sat silent a while before he answered. “I can think of nothing unusual that happened here lately. Nothing.”

Again, Cassidy looked at me. “Miss Green, since you have arrived to live on Shipton property, I’ll continue my questions with you. What was your relationship to Francine Shipton?”

I answered his questions as completely, but as briefly, as possible, unwilling to reveal too much—or too little. The only information I withheld that might pertain to the investigation concerned Francine’s note in my purse. It was a no-ask, no-tell situation. If he asked about our correspondence in the future, I’d have to reveal the note. But not now. As I’d expected, Detective Cassidy ordered me to get his permission before leaving Key West.

I had no choice but to remain. The cottage was now my residence unless Zack asked me to leave. Perhaps he could find part-time work for me in the Shipton business. I had no home to return to in Iowa, and even if I could find another rental in Key West, I couldn’t afford to leave the Shipton cottage unless I found a full-time day job and worked on writing lyrics at night.

I hoped to avoid that. I wanted to give songwriting and performing my best shot, and I couldn’t do that and worry about the responsibilities a full-time day job would bring. It unnerved me to realize an unknown murderer might be at large in Key West, but I saw nothing I could do about that. I promised myself to be strong and unafraid. Well, at least I’d admit no fear to anyone.

I listened to Detective Cassidy call on Courtney next. Now and then I caught myself squelching a yawn, but I zoned in on Courtney’s alibi. On my previous Key West visit, she’d never ranked as my favorite person, but I had no concrete reasons for my feelings. It’s hard for me to warm up to a person who dotes on wearing Prada and who never has a bad hair day.

“Ms. Lusk, where were you this afternoon and early evening?”

“I was showing houses to a family new to the city who expressed interest in making Key West their permanent home.”

“Who were these people?”

“The Gordon Jamell family from Jackson, Michigan.”

“They occupied your whole afternoon?”

“Yes. After I left them, I stopped at Pier House for a sandwich. After that, I met friends who were visiting the island and staying at Pier House. The Haynes. We attended the sunset celebration before they caught a plane for Miami.”

“They will corroborate your statement?”

“I feel sure they would if they were available. They planned to fly to Miami tonight, stay there until morning, and then fly abroad.”

“Do you know where they were planning to stay in Miami?”

“No.”

“Where were their plans going to take them once they left this country?”

“They mentioned renting a car and touring England.”

Courtney’s words sounded evasive to me—too many unexplained time slots. I had to blink fast to keep from going to sleep, but I jerked to attention when Cassidy began questioning Dr. Gravely. Was I the only person present who hadn’t known Gravely had been the one who found Francine’s body?

“Tell us more about this,” Detective Cassidy asked.

“I’d been attending a luncheon at Kelly’s Caribbean. A group of us were planning a special Conch Republic celebration dinner for friends who’d missed the regular celebration last year. After we finalized our plans, I drove home and then walked to Eden Palms—purely a courtesy call. I wanted to ask Francine if I could do anything to help with last-minute details for her evening meeting. And since my hibiscus plants are in full bloom, I offered to bring her a bouquet.”

“And what did you find?”

“I found her sprawled on the floor at the foot of the staircase. I called nine-one-one.”

“You knew she was dead?”

Gravely hesitated only a moment. “I’m a doctor, sir. I knew.” Zack’s face grew crimson and for a moment he glared at Gravely, but he said nothing.

Detective Cassidy dismissed Dr. Gravely. Why so quickly? I wondered. I had lots of questions. It was a Sherlock Holmes moment. Had the door been unlocked? Were there signs of a struggle? Had her clothing been disarranged?

With a nod, Cassidy focused his attention toward Tucker Tisdale. I looked away from Tisdale’s scaly skin, the parsnip-colored hair. His falsetto made him sound like a prepubescent boy, and he had little information for Cassidy. He’d been working at his funeral home, and he felt sure his staff would vouch for that. Cassidy didn’t inquire as to the nature of that work. Thank goodness.

Detective Cassidy let his gaze sweep the solarium, stopping briefly on each person present. In the silence we heard water dripping from the fountain, the squeak of Courtney’s chair when she leaned forward, preparing to rise.

“Thank you people for your attention,” Cassidy said. “You may go now. If you have reason to leave the island, please clear your departure with me first. Thank you.”

For a few seconds nobody moved, then in a nanosecond the solarium scene broke apart like a jigsaw puzzle someone had kicked by accident. I headed for my cottage, glad I’d locked the door before leaving it.