THIRTY-ONE

“All right,” Quinn said at last. “I’ll do what I can for Mitch, and I’ll expect you to keep my secret. No squealing to Ben. As far as Ben knows, I was working with Mazie Younkers.”

“Right,” Zack agreed. “That’s the way it’ll be. Can you come with us to the station now?”

Quinn glanced at her watch. “I have a little time before I need to report at Two Friends, but I have to get dressed—in uniform and ready to work. Who knows how long I’ll have to be at the station! Why don’t I drive and meet you there?”

“Fine with me.” Zack stood and made a show of helping me up. If Quinn noticed my limp, she didn’t mention it. “See you at the station in about fifteen minutes, okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

Quinn watched from her doorway until we passed the helicopter pad and turned from her driveway.

“Don’t worry,” Zack said, reading my mind. “She’ll show. She and Ben are decent people. Dependable people.” Zack grinned. “That’s important on an island where ‘I’ll be there’ usually means I’ll be there if it isn’t a good fishing day and I decide to drown a few bait shrimp.”

“Zack, please take me home. I have an important errand and I need my own car. I’ll be at the station as soon as I can.”

“Well…okay. But you need to give your leg plenty of rest. Don’t want the wound to open.”

“Ever feel a need to be two places at the same time? I want to be at headquarters to speak up for Mitch, but I need to go to the Phrame Shop to have some film developed, film that may help prove his innocence.”

“Maybe Mitch would be better off without you vouching for him. You heard Cassidy question your interest in a gardener. Your relationship with Mitch looks strange to those out of the loop.”

“Right. I don’t want to have to explain to the detectives. But, soon as I’m finished at the Phrame shop, I’ll come to the police station.”

“Fine. You have the film with you?”

I pulled my camera from around my neck and opened it, sorry to have to ruin the rest of the unexposed film. “Some shots here might help Mitch prove that Wizard is missing and may need help.”

“Go easy, Bailey. If Wizard’s missing, there’s a good reason for his absence. If he’s involved in illegal activities, the cops may be on his trail. There are lots of authorities besides the police. Marine patrol. Shore patrol.”

We had reached Eden Palms, and Zack drove me to the carport. “Got your keys? Sure you feel up to making this trip alone? I could drive us to the station then take you to the photo shop later.”

“My leg feels fine. No pain at all. Don’t worry about me. I feel fine. I’ll do my errand and then meet you and Quinn as we planned.” I left the convertible before he could come around and open the door for me.

“Easy, Bailey. Easy.”

“Thanks, Zack. ’Bye and thanks for everything.” I tried not to limp when I walked to the Lincoln and slid under the wheel.

“I hate goodbyes,” Zack called. “Don’t make our parting sound so final. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Thank goodness it was my left leg I’d injured. Driving was no biggie. Even so, Zack waited for me to leave the carport, watched while I turned toward the Searstown Mall, and followed me until he reached his turnoff.

One great thing about Searstown is the plethora of un-metered parking spaces. I claimed a slot right in front of the Photo and Phrame Shop. It sat tucked between a pawnshop and an ice-cream bar. I smiled at Free, short for “Free Throw,” Glockner behind the counter. All the locals know Free, a former basketball star for the high school Conchs. Tall, black, and handsome, he towered over me when I pulled the film from my purse.

“And I suppose you’re in a hurry—as usual?” His velvet-smooth voice matched the smile that flashed easily from his lips to his eyes. In the few times I’d visited Key West, I’d called on Free to help me out now and then. He was one of the few people who understood that when I needed a picture to help me write a descriptive ballad, I needed it yesterday.

“This time I’m in a big hurry, Free. How soon can you get this roll developed and printed?”

Free looked around his empty shop and gave a shrug along with a palms-up gesture. “Got nobody breathing down my neck. It’s been a snail-pace afternoon. You watch the counter while I do the darkroom thing and I’ll have your pics out in a few minutes.”

“Deal. Anyone comes in, I’ll call you.”

“You might consider investing in a digital camera, Bailey. I carry several brands.”

“No way.” I patted the camera hanging around my neck. “At least no way as long as my old camera still works.”

Nobody came in. It seemed like hours, but it was only minutes, until Free opened the darkroom door and beckoned. “Want to see? Got the pics out of solution hanging to dry.”

I rushed to look at the pictures dangling from a thin line stretched above a work counter. The room smelled of lotions and potions I couldn’t identify, but I was interested in the film, not the smells.

“How they look to you?” Free asked. “Get the ones you wanted?”

I studied the shots one by one, my heart pounding when I realized the one with Gravely and the flag looked clear and well defined. And so did the one with Wizard wearing his scarf. I grinned my approval.

“How long before I can take them with me?”

“Very shortly. Give me a few more minutes. Need extra copies?”

I selected two shots. “Three each of these, please, and only one of the others.”

I watched until Free was almost finished making the prints before I dashed to the ice-cream bar next door and ordered him a triple chocolate malt. I’d been planning to resist, but temptation won out. I ordered a triple for myself, too. Free and I weren’t into worrying about cholesterol, and the malts paved my path to a friendly business relationship with him.

While Free slurped his malt, I set mine aside and selected the prints I wanted. “I need three envelopes, please.”

Free stopped slurping long enough to find the envelopes.

I placed copies of Wizard wearing the scarf and copies of Gravely beside the flag into three separate envelopes. After labeling one envelope for me, one for the police, and the third for Zack, I left Zack’s envelope with Free.

“Please take special care of that special envelope, Free. Give it to nobody except Zack Shipton. You know Zack, right?”

“Right. Everyone knows Zack.”

I paid Free, adding a mega-tip in addition to the malt. Picking up my own treat, I left the shop and headed for the Lincoln. I keyed in my combination on the lock pad. Nothing. My hands shook. What a rotten time for mechanical failure!

I set my malt on the hood while I dug in my purse for the door key, the ignition key.

“Having trouble?” Dr. Gravely drove up beside me and called through his open window.

Drat! Was he going to scold me for ignoring his proper-care rules for my leg? My stomach tightened when he left his car and stood beside me smiling, while I continued to fumble for my car keys.

“Bailey, it’s good you’re able to be out and about with that leg. Has it been giving you any problem? Any additional bleeding?”

I hesitated, trying to find words more adequate and time-consuming than “no.” I sensed Gravely hadn’t come to check on my leg or to pass the time of day. What was he doing here? What could he want?

“My leg’s doing great, Dr. Gravely. You’ve done an excellent repair job.” As soon as I managed to unlock my car door, I started to get inside. Gravely put a hand on my arm.

“Wait, Bailey.”

“What is it? I’m really in a rush. Zack’s waiting—”

“Yes, Zack’s waiting. That’s why I’m here. Zack’s worried about your trying to drive with that injured leg. He asked me to pick you up, take you to Eden Palms. He promised to send someone for your car later.”

Liar! My thoughts whirled in a maze of fear and anger. I knew Gravely was lying when a tic contorted his cheek. Zack wasn’t at home. He’d watched me leave. He knew I wasn’t having driving problems. I glanced at the photo shop, hoping Free might be watching. But no. He was nowhere in sight. In fact there was nobody in sight, nobody out and about at the moment. But a blast on my car horn might bring someone.

I reached toward the steering wheel, but Gravely caught my arm and jerked me toward him.

“Let me go!” I shouted. “Right now! Let me go!”

I jerked my arm from his grasp, but he reached into his jacket pocket. When I looked down, he was aiming a gun at my heart.

“Shut up. Get into my car.”

His words numbed me and he nudged me toward his car with the gun barrel. Would he shoot me in the Searstown lot? I remembered words from a long-ago lecture on women’s safety. Run! Don’t get in that car! But running wasn’t an option. Terror paralyzed me.