TWENTY-SEVEN

My anger simmered like a kettle of chowder. Not only had Zack accused me of being jealous of Courtney, but he’d also insinuated that Mitch might have murdered Francine. How could he be such a twad! How could he make love to me one minute and make light of my feelings the next? The air between us on the drive to Eden Palms might have blown in from Iowa, it felt that frosty. When he braked in front of the cottage I slid from the passenger seat without thanking him, stomped inside, and banged the door.

Lover’s quarrel? No way! I needed to put space between me and Zack Shipton, move somewhere safe where I could think clearly. Did Zack plan to use Mitch as a red herring to distract the detectives from digging into his own whereabouts last Monday? Maybe I had slept with a murderer. Mitch was right. I needed to get away from Eden Palms.

I hated this cottage, hated the whole neighborhood, hated Zack’s trying to make a scapegoat of Mitch. Francine had been my only friend, and now she was gone. Nobody wanted me here. Nobody. And somebody wanted me dead.

Winton Gravely resented my boarding his boat. Courtney disliked me for living—and thwarting her pursuit of Zack. And now Zack! What were Zack’s true feelings? I wanted to pick up my marbles and go home. But I no longer had a home. For a moment I identified with Mitch’s friends. Where would I go if I left Francine’s cottage? Mitch’s one-room apartment? One room? Could I stand that? Yes. I’d endure anything in order to leave this cottage. Maybe I should have listened to Mom and stuck with my clerk’s job in Iowa.

I keyed in Mitch’s number. Five rings before he answered. “It’s me, Mitch. I need your help.”

“Again? What’s the buzz this time?”

“Is the offer to use your apartment still open?”

“Sure. You have a mega-spat with Zack? You want to move into my apartment for permanent?”

“I’m not sure exactly what I want.”

“Better calm down. How about trying my place a few days for size? Wouldn’t hurt my heart to see you dump Zack Shipton. That guy doesn’t like me—probably hates my guts.”

“Could I move in today?”

“Lusk’s my Realtor. Better run your plans by her. See if it’s okay with the apartment owner if I take in a friend or sublet the place. Don’t want to risk doing anything that might call undue attention to me and jinx the witness protection deal.”

“Would you call her for me, Mitch?”

“No way. I gave you prime time this morning. Right now some pals are going with me on another search for Wizard. Got no time for phone chitchat. Just call Lusk and tell her I said the subletting deal’s okay with me.”

Mitch broke our connection. Just call Lusk. Ha. Just call Lusk. Mitch knew Courtney and I weren’t close. He knew I’d hate calling her, especially calling to ask for housing info. Bury your pride. Make the call. My mind still steamed on slow simmer. I refused to think about my lifestyle if I left this cottage and moved into Mitch’s sleazy apartment.

I looked up Courtney’s number and punched it onto the keypad before I changed my mind.

“Lusk Realty. How may I help you?”

Her throaty voice and honeyed tone made me want to bang the receiver down without answering. But no doubt she had Caller I.D. She’d know.

“Good morning, Courtney. Bailey here with a question.”

“Glad to help you if I can.”

“I’m considering leaving the cottage and subletting Mitch Mitchell’s apartment on Caroline Street.” I paused. Why hadn’t I thought this scene through more carefully? Courtney knew nothing of my relationship to Mitch. “I’m wondering about the legal details. As a renter, can Mr. Mitchell sublet the place?”

“Mitchell? Sublet?” Courtney let the words hang between us like terms from a language she didn’t understand.

“Yes, sublet. I’ve discussed it with Mr. Mitchell and he said it’s okay with him if it’s okay with you and the owner. He’s found quarters…elsewhere and…”

“I guess Mr. Mitchell and I needed to have a better understanding. The property owner has strict rules against subletting. Mr. Mitchell and I both considered the apartment within his means.”

“His plans have changed.”

“Where does he intend to locate? And why would you be interested in such cramped quarters when you’re ensconced in the Shipton cottage? I don’t feel you’d find Mr. Mitchell’s apartment comfortable.”

Now vinegar laced her honeyed tones and gut-level danger signals warned me to watch my words. “I’m unaware of Mr. Mitchell’s future living arrangements, but I need a quieter spot, a less-expensive place where I can relax and work on creating new lyrics. My CD-in-progress has been in progress far too long.”

The pause on the other end of the line made me wonder if she’d broken the connection. “Courtney—Courtney are you there?”

“I’m still on the line, Bailey. I’m in this business to help people find suitable housing, housing that meets their lifestyles as well as their budgets. Mr. Mitchell’s apartment is suitable for him—a loner with a low budget and little need for larger accommodations. Have you seen inside his apartment?”

“No. Of course not. But I heard Mr. Mitchell and Zack discussing his place, and I thought…”

“You thought you’d want to make such a move? On top of the fact that subletting the place would be a violation of Mitch’s lease agreement, I think you’d find the apartment unsuitable. Bailey, why don’t you drop over to my house for a few minutes? We’ll share a pot of coffee while I show you some nicer apartments. I have videos of at least five places that you might want to consider. If you see one or two you like, we’ll drive by and you can take a look.”

Drat! I’d wanted this transaction to be an over-and-out deal, something I could latch onto before I changed my mind. Courtney had turned my request into a situation I might be unable to handle. She couldn’t sublet Mitch’s place, but she wanted to find me a place to live—a place far from Zack and Eden Palms. I’d played right into her hands. But so what! I wanted to get away from Zack, from my memories of the mansion, from the turmoil of the police investigation.

But wait. Would leaving the neighborhood make me look guilty? No. It couldn’t. I’d been aboard a plane at the time of Francine’s death. Nothing could change that fact.

“Bailey? Do come over and let me see how I can help you. Workers have torn up the sidewalk to my porch in preparation for laying flagstones, so cut across the grass under the palms. I’ll be waiting for you on the side veranda, okay? I’m free now. If you’re free, too, let’s get started.”

I knew her apartments would be beyond my financial reach, but if I refused her invitation, she’d think I wasn’t serious about moving. Or she might think last night’s pool scene had prompted my decision. And what if she began to wonder about my relationship to Mitch and began to question it? I couldn’t risk letting that happen.

“Thanks, Courtney. I’ll come right over.”

I felt trapped. But I could handle it. So what if Courtney had a reputation for being a high-powered salesperson? I could show her a verbal stone wall cemented with the word “no.”

Changing from my biking shoes into sandals, I slung my camera around my neck. If we drove around looking at apartments, I could snap a shot of any I liked. Leaving the cottage, I walked toward Courtney’s home. The sun glinting on coral rock pillars and then on a pair of second-floor windows, gave them the look of mirrored sunglasses. Draperies masked the lower windows, and I wondered if Courtney stood inside watching my approach. Somebody in the area was frying bacon. Although I’d eaten earlier, the fragrance enticed me, whetting a second appetite that made my mouth water.

The grass under the palms still held night dew that dampened my feet. I thought I was watching where I stepped, but a movement overhead distracted me. I glanced up at an iguana perched on a palm frond, and in that instant, I slipped and fell. Later when questioned, I couldn’t remember if I felt pain in my leg and fell or if I fell and then felt the pain. I’d stepped on the handle of a machete some yardman had failed to return to the caretaker’s shed. The curved blade had flipped up and cut my thigh. At first I felt nothing, then I clenched my teeth against hot daggers of pain.

Blood running from thigh to ankle soon covered my foot. When I tried to move, blood spurted everywhere.

“Help! Help!” I shouted, hoping that this time Courtney had been watching and that Zack had not. “Courtney! Courtney!”

The veranda door flew open and Courtney rushed across the porch and down three steps to the lawn where I lay. “What happened?” Her gaze met mine and then traveled to the wound in my leg. “How did you manage to do that?”

“Easy. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Yes. Keep calm. I’ll get it and be right back.”

I was better at keeping calm than Courtney was. In spite of the pulsing pain, I managed to sit up and take a closer look at my injury. My movement caused greater bleeding and now the pain throbbed in rhythm with my pounding heart. It seemed like an hour passed before Courtney returned with a pan of water, tape, bandages.

“This isn’t in my job description, Bailey, but I think I can clean the cut and apply a bandage. Then we’ll get you to a doctor. You in great pain?”

“No,” I lied, unwilling to admit weakness. Courtney’s plan failed. After only a few moments we eyed a pan of red-tinged water. Blood continued to flow from the cut, preventing her from applying a bandage.

“Maybe a tourniquet higher on my leg would help.”

“I don’t know anything about tourniquets, Bailey. Can you stand?”

Courtney helped me to my feet, but when I stood, the blood flow increased. Seeing my own blood pooling around my feet made me woozy.

“Don’t faint, Bailey. Don’t faint. Be strong. Grit your teeth. We’ll walk to Dr. Gravely’s clinic. He’ll know what to do. Come on, now. Put your arm around my waist and let me take your arm. It’s only a short distance.”

Short distance! Hah! It looked like a mile. “Leave me here, Courtney. Go knock on Gravely’s door. Tell him I need him.”

“No. I’m not leaving you here in a pool of blood.” She swathed the cut in several thicknesses of gauze. “Walk. Walk. You can make it.”

I forced myself to put one foot ahead of the other and move forward. How could this have happened! Any pain that wasn’t in my leg was in my mind—the pain of having to depend on Courtney Lusk for help. I didn’t have strength to look behind us, but I knew I must be leaving a bloody trail across the lawn.

Foot by foot. Inch by inch. At last we made it to Gravely’s door. Courtney opened the screen and lifted a brass knocker. Its falling rang like a gunshot in my head. Courtney made no move to knock a second time, so I found the strength to lift the knocker and drop it again. Was the man deaf? Why didn’t he come to his door?

Blood began to pool on his doorstep, and I imagined its coppery taste at the base of my tongue. I slumped, thinking Courtney would keep me from falling, but no. Now I was lying in a puddle of my own blood, unable to rise, almost unable to speak or cry out.

Courtney dropped the brass knocker again. This time the door opened so quickly I wondered if Gravely had been watching my helplessness through his peephole.

“Ladies? What’s going on here?”

“Bailey’s had an accident.” Courtney stood back as if Gravely couldn’t see my leg dripping blood. My mind regressed to Girl Scout days. Didn’t continued bleeding mean a severed artery? Again my thoughts flashed to tourniquets, to quick death from loss of blood.

“Do something, Dr. Gravely,” Courtney demanded. “Let us in. She’s already lost lots of blood. She may be going into shock.”

“Take her to the hospital,” Gravely helped me back to my feet and let me lean against him. “I can’t have her coming in here like this.”

“Why not?” My voice wavered.

“Yes,” Courtney said. “Why on earth not? You do run a clinic, don’t you? Can’t you see she’s in no condition to make the trip to the hospital? If you refuse help, I’ll have no compunction about reporting you to medical authorities.”

Had her threat scared him? Dr. Gravely transferred my weight to Courtney and stepped back, returning in seconds with a wheelchair.

Courtney urged me into the chair and started to push me through the clinic doorway, but Gravely scowled and stepped in front of us.

“Bailey may come in and I’ll treat her, but you may not enter, Ms. Lusk. I have a heart patient in residence who requires absolute quiet. Your presence is a detriment. Go. Leave at once.”