TWELVE

A steady stream of visitors came to the mansion bringing food and flowers. In spite of his consternation over the death-scene photographs and Detective Cassidy’s visit, Zack managed to be gracious to the callers. I carried cakes, pies, and salads to the kitchen, hoping the refrigerator would hold the must-keep-chilled dishes. After each visitor left, Zack and I worked together, recording each person’s name, address, and a brief description of the gift.

“Oh.” Zack rose and looked out the window. “Here come the servicemen returning your car.”

I jumped up. A dream car. It glistened in the sunshine like a green magnet pulling me toward it.

“Go ahead.” Zack nodded toward the door. “I know you’ve missed it. Take it out for a spin.”

“I do need to pick up a few groceries from Fausto’s. But I won’t be gone long.” We hurried outside, and while Zack chatted with the servicemen, I slid beneath the wheel, waved to them, and eased into the Tuesday morning traffic on Eaton Street. Three mopeders cut in front of me, and I braked to avoid a mishap. I didn’t honk. They rode on, unmindful of their danger—or mine. Even after two years, the interior of the Lincoln still held the new-car smell. I inhaled deeply, admiring the cream-colored leather seats and reaching overhead to open the sunroof and allow a sea breeze to cool me.

Doing a slow Duval crawl, I inched along, enjoying a quick glimpse of Fast Buck Freddie’s, Margaritaville, Sloppy Joe’s. I took a longing look at The Sandbar where Francine had managed to have me invited as a guest soloist on my previous visit to celebrate the release of Greentree Blues. I hoped the owner might hire me for some gigs now that I would be living in Key West. A few people gawked at my car, and a male voice shouted, “There goes Bailey.” For a moment I had forgotten my name was on my license plate. Could I consider that word-of-mouth advertising?

I spent only a few minutes in the grocery store. A bag of M&M’s. Some peanut butter cups. A half gallon of milk. The fragrance of freshly baked donuts tempted me, but I thought of the food arriving at Eden Palms. Zack would share.

Back at the cottage, I parked at the door while I carried my purchases inside, and moments later, I eased my car into the carport that sat out of sight behind the mansion. I smiled when I entered the kitchen. Zack sat nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie. Sometimes food does help minimize one’s troubles—at least momentarily.

At mid-afternoon, during a lull in the flow of visitors, I wandered into Zack’s art studio. North light flowed into the spacious room and I eyed the easel draped with a white cloth sitting near the door. I smelled the faint but pungent scent of oil paints and turpentine when I peeked under the cloth at the likeness of a white boat with kelly-green sails.

“Beautiful, Zack,” I said when he followed me into the studio. “Do you manage to find a regular time for your art?”

He smiled. “Not every day, but I live in possibility. Someday I’ll finish the painting—and the boat.”

I heard the wistfulness in his voice, and I empathized with him when I thought of my own work-in-progress on a new blues composition. I’d hoped to have plenty of writing time. I owned software that allowed me to compose at the computer, and my electronic keyboard coaxed me to work every day. Yet few new ideas for lyrics or fresh rhythmic patterns had flowed to me in recent months. I told myself that was understandable, considering my mother’s recent death—and now Francine’s.

“My face aches from smiling,” Zack held a sheet of notepaper on a clipboard toward me. “I’m taping this note onto the door, thanking visitors for coming and promising to get in touch later.”

“If you’d like, I’ll stay here and greet people.”

“No. You’ve already done more than your share and I appreciate it. People will understand our need for a respite. Go on to the cottage and grab some rest. I need to take care of details at the funeral home, and I promised Ben Bahama some help. He’s been waiting since yesterday.”

“Quinn’s husband?”

“Yeah. Know him?”

“No. But Quinn mentioned him when we were talking at the airport last night. Said he’d gone shrimping.”

“Guess those were his plans, but he won’t be going out today. His boat’s at the bottom of the bay near Land End’s Village.”

“Accident?”

“No. The boat’s old—a floating disaster. Or, as of last night, a sunken disaster. I promised to salvage it, and he really needs it today. He’s having a rough time financially and The Seawitch’s under water almost as much as it’s floating. If I get over there and winch it up this afternoon, he may be able to dry it out, do some makeshift repairs, and take his crew out tomorrow night.”

“Can’t you send some of your workers to do the job?”

Zack shook his head. “I do it personally—as a favor. Ben keeps me supplied with fresh shrimp. Besides, my employees face deadlines on other projects.”

“What about a late lunch before you go?” I asked. “I saw a chicken casserole that looked delicious.”

“Not hungry. But you help yourself. Take it to the cottage if you’d feel more comfortable eating there.”

“Think I’ll do that.” I went to the kitchen and picked up the casserole, feeling it warm my hand even though it’d been in the refrigerator a few minutes. Before I left, I turned to Zack. “Give me a call if there’s anything more I can do here.”

“Thanks. Will do.”

When I left the mansion, a cloud blocked the sun and a mist began to fall. I hurried to the cottage. Strange to have rain in January, but it matched my mood. Once inside, I enjoyed a helping of the casserole along with a piece of toast covered with Francine’s special guava jelly. Everything I saw or did reminded me of Francine. Busy as she always was with her bridge groups and civic activities, she always took time to pick the summer-ripe guavas from the tree beside the carport and spend hours turning them into jelly.

The casserole hadn’t tasted as good as I hoped it might, but I finished the serving on my plate. Clean your plate if you expect dessert. My mother’s voice did an instant replay in my mind. Why, I wondered, did my mind focus so sharply on the dead?

I’d gone to my bedroom to unpack when the phone rang.

“Hello.” I’d expected to hear Zack’s voice requesting some bit of help, but instead I heard Chet—er, Mitch. Even in my mind I had to learn to think of him as Mitch.

“Hi, Sis. What’s the buzz? Can we get together for a while this afternoon? I’ve tried to call you several times this morning. You been away?”

I explained my morning to him. “What do you have in mind?”

“You promised you’d let me introduce you to a couple of my friends, remember?”

“Your homeless friends?”

“Those are the ones. How about it? They’re good people. All they need’s a little help from someone who cares about them. This afternoon would be a good meeting time for them and a good time for me, too. Nothing much going on in my life today.”

I wanted to tell him about the blacksnake, the special horror concerning Francine’s death, the pictures, but Detective Cassidy had demanded secrecy.

“Well, there’s plenty going on in my life right now. I haven’t even had enough free time to unpack.”

“I saw you doing Duval in your car. Remember hearing someone yell at you? Well, that was me.”

“Thanks a lot—Mitch.”

“Seems to me, if you have time to joyride, you should have time to meet my friends.”

“I wasn’t joyriding. Well, not exactly. I loved seeing my car again, so I made buying a few groceries a reason for taking it out for a drive.”

“So take it out again. I’ll introduce you to Wizard and Princess. We can give them a spin around Old Town. They probably haven’t ridden in a Lincoln anytime recently. How about if I bike over to your place, and we can drive to the Bridle Path? They live near there.”

“No way. Think, Mitch. We can’t risk being seen together. What would Zack and his neighbors think of my sudden friendship with their yardman? Or with a part-time dishwasher at a local eatery? What would the police think?”

“You ashamed of me?”

“Of course not.” I hesitated, wishing I could warn him about the police investigation, wishing I could tell him how he might have compromised himself with his tale of the blacksnake. “Of course I’m not ashamed of you. Honest work makes anyone respectable in my thinking. It’s you I’m concerned about. What if someone guesses we’re related? Guesses your identity? Your life could be on the line.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Sometimes I forget I’m a new person. Thanks for the reminder. We’d better avoid togetherness. Especially togetherness in your car. Those wheels grab plenty of attention. So why don’t you park at Smathers and hoof it, cliché intended, to the Bridle Path. I’ll meet you there. You’re a strong walker, and the path’s close to the beach. Once we meet, it’ll be easy for you to disappear with me into the thicket.”

I eyed my tumbled clothes in the suitcase and sighed. “Okay, Mitch. Give me half an hour, okay?”

“Okay. See you then.”

In that half hour I managed to unpack only one suitcase—the one that held the glamorous gowns I wore when I performed at The Sandbar. I felt the cool smoothness of the jewel-toned satin. I could hardly wait to wear them again. I sighed, tucking the empty case into the back of my closet before I hoisted the other bag onto the luggage rack—the sturdy bag that held my laptop. Enough. I slung my camera around my neck, glad that it was an old friend I’d owned since high school days, a camera I could depend on. Maybe someday I’d invest in a new digital variety, but not yet. I headed for the Lincoln and the beach, glad for the diversion even if it involved meeting my brother’s indigent friends.

Sunbathers crowded the sand this afternoon, but I found a parking place and fed quarters into the meter. A mixture of enticing aromas wafted from the many vendors’ trailers parked bumper to bumper next to the sidewalk that separated beach from boulevard—hotdogs, pizza, barbecued pork.

Dreading this secret meeting with Mitch’s newfound friends, I stalled now and then, stopping to drink in the scene at hand. In the distance the gray silhouette of a cargo ship inched across the horizon. High overhead a blue-and-gold hot-air balloon trailed a streamer advertising tonight’s harbor sail, promising dinner as well as a sunset. Below the balloon, a plane towing a parasailer grabbed my attention. I stood gawking, but I heard the warning shouts.

“Outta the way, lady! Duck!” A blue volleyball whizzed by, barely missing my head.

“Sorry, lady.” A sunburned boy wearing nothing but a red Speedo retrieved the ball. Amid catcalls and whistles, he rejoined his pals waiting ankle deep in sand on the volleyball court.

I walked faster, narrowly missing a collision with a guy flying a giant turtle-shaped kite. Then I jumped aside in time to avoid a head-on with two skateboarders intent on eating huge puffs of pink cotton candy. Horns honked when I jaywalked across the highway toward mounds of dirty beach sand that had been bulldozed from the street following hurricanes Georges and then Wilma.

A few yards farther on I walked under palms that shaded the old Bridle Path. I found it hard to imagine anything as sedate as a horseback rider enjoying this trail. Such activity must have taken place in another day, another age. Right now, I wished Mitch had been more specific about our meeting place, but I needn’t have worried. In a few moments he stepped from the thicket beside the path.

“Thought you were going to stand me up,” he said. “Been waiting a while. But come on. Follow me.”

“Where to?”

Mitch was alone, but I glanced over my shoulder now and then while I followed him a few yards into a small clearing hidden from the street. We stopped when we reached a tattered blue tent blocking our path.

“Okay, people.” Mitch lifted the tent flap and leaned into the opening. “She’s here. Come on out. Meet my friend.”

Thank goodness he’d kept our relationship a secret! The woman appeared first, then the man.

“Princess. Wizard. I want you to meet my good friend, Bailey Green. And Bailey, I want you to meet my friends.”

I muttered my hellos while Mitch spouted bits and pieces of information like a tour guide. Very comfortable here. Got police okay to pitch the tent. Got friends all around us. While he rattled on, I couldn’t take my gaze from Princess. In her sixties? Maybe. That was a wild estimate. She was built like a pyramid on stilts, and she could have been forty or seventy or anywhere in between. She wore a fraying straw hat. Her orange, pot-scrubber hair and her scarlet lipstick clashed with the blobs of pink rouge dabbed on her raddled cheeks.

“Like my new outfit?” She twirled before me like an obese child showing off for Grandma. “Mitch lent me the money and I bought the whole outfit including the hat for only three dollars on Flagler at the Salvation Army store.”

Her twirling released the sick-sweet fragrance of perfume. I fought a desire to step back. Her white peek-a-boo blouse and black satin skirt, along with the red and white polka-dot cummerbund spanning her wide middle formed a one-of-a-kind outfit. Pink ballerina slippers were losing a half-hearted struggle to contain her feet.

“What a colorful outfit, Princess! I’m sure you’ll enjoy wearing it a long time.”

“Mitch is very generous.” Princess grinned at Mitch until he blushed. I wondered what real name might be on her birth certificate, if she had one. But everyone has a birth certificate somewhere, right?

“Where’s your home, Princess?” I looked away from the tent. “I mean where does your family live?”

“Don’t remember. Maybe don’t have no more family.”

“Wizard hails from New Jersey.” Mitch frowned at me, trying to change the subject and put Princess at ease. I gave the balding scarecrow of a man my full attention, determined to ask no more embarrassing questions. Wizard looked a lot like the vendor I’d encountered at the airport. I backed off a step. Could it be the same guy?

“Pleased to meet you, Wizard.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.” His voice was a guttural rumble.

Wizard wore no shirt under his bib overalls. He’d rammed bare feet into hiking boots whose toes had been cut out for comfort—or maybe for ventilation. Wizard’s appearance made me think of the plethora of food at Eden Palms. I wondered when he’d last eaten a good meal. Did he patronize the soup kitchens? An odor emanating from him made me guess that beer might be his main form of sustenance. I looked at the tent from which these two had emerged. Did they live together?

“Mitch, where do you live—I mean where do you sleep?”

“We all sleep on pallets under the stars, Bailey. The tent’s only for emergencies such as rain or sudden cold or mean tourists who might tell us to move on.”

The three of them sat on the ground and I joined them, hoping this get-together would soon end and that nobody would see me.

“I want to help these people, Bailey. They’re down on their luck right at the moment. Wizard used to be a telephone line repairman, but he walked when the company discriminated against him—promoted others when he should have been promoted. And Princess has had a lot of troubles, too.” Mitch stopped to grab a breath. “She was an ace housekeeper, but her employer fired her when some of the family jewelry turned up missing. No fault of Princess’s. None at all. The woman’s kid probably swiped the stuff and sold it for drug money. I’d like to help both these people get their lives back on track, help them reunite with their families. There’re many reasons for family estrangements, but with a little effort, a little understanding, these people could be happy living with their loved ones again.”

Mitch rattled on as people sometimes do when they know they’re presenting a weak case. When I looked at Mitch, my mind flashed back to the kid who used to bring in stray cats and dogs. Now he’d graduated to stray people.

“And what do Princess and Wizard think of your plan?” I tried to keep sarcasm from my voice. What did I know! I could be wrong. Maybe these two did want to reunite with family.

“I’m happy right here,” Wizard said. “Nobody around prodding me to find a job or stop dirking or—”

Princess broke in. “Mitch wants to help us, and we appreciate him and we like him a lot, but we don’t really need no help.” She paused, looking down at her clothes. “Well, I did need help in getting this new outfit. But Mitch didn’t try to boss me around. He let me choose every piece of it myself.”

“I’m helping them out when I can,” Mitch said. “I give them a little money for food, a little help with doctor’s bills, some cash for medicine. All they need is someone to lend them a helping hand.”

It appalled me to know these two were scamming my brother with their hard-luck stories. I stood. There was little hope of changing Mitch—or Wizard and Princess. I opened my purse. I felt guilty leaving these people without giving them something, some token of my visit. But what? Unlike Mitch, I refused to dole out money I felt sure they would spend in the nearest bar. Instead, I poked into my purse and pulled out the two scarves I’d purchased under duress at the airport. I extended a smile and a scarf to each of them. If Wizard had been the man who had sold them to me, he didn’t let on.

“I’ve enjoyed meeting you both, and perhaps you’ll enjoy wearing these mementos of Key West.”

Princess’s eyes lit up and she smiled her thanks as she folded the blue scarf into an oblong and tucked it into her polka-dot cummerbund. Again she twirled, expecting my admiration.

Wizard folded his scarf into a triangle and tied the ends of it at the back of his neck, letting it hang like a bib. I’d forgotten about the grease stain and now it embarrassed me to see it front and center, but Wizard didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you, ma’am. This’ll make a useful sweat rag once the temp begins to heat up.”

I reached for the camera slung around my neck. “May I take your pictures?”

Princess posed, smiling and tilting her head like a movie star. “People are always wanting to take my picture,” she said. “This’s my Brittany Spears pose.”

I snapped the shot and turned toward Wizard. He didn’t smile, but he looked straight into the camera as I took his picture.

“Thank you both very much. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” Then feeling like a Scrooge, I gave in, reached into my purse again, and pulled out a fiver for each of them. Mitch walked me back to the Bridle Path, and I felt Wizard and Princess watching me as I left. I trusted Mitch, but Wizard and Princess could be dangerous. I hoped they didn’t know where I lived.