It was dark by the time we left TooJay’s, and we decided to just walk around to the other side of the plaza and stop into the Palm Beach Grill for a few drinks. God knew we could use some alcohol.
We sat at the same high-top as the night we met. The waitress, Suzie, a cute little thing I’d known since she started here, gave us an odd look. A minute later she was back with two Grey Goose vodkas with cranberry. Both doubles. Marty threw his down quickly and looked at Suzie and said, “May I have another, please.” Then he stood up and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
As soon as he was away from the table, Suzie looked at me and said, “The cops were here right when we opened. They asked about you and Marty. They asked if we saw you in here often and if you were here last night. Is everything okay?”
“Just a misunderstanding.”
“But you’re sure you’re okay? I mean, there’s nothing funny going on with Marty?”
I let out a laugh. “No, he’s not holding me hostage or anything. He is a little stressed out, so if you don’t mind making his drinks a little stronger so he can relax, I’d appreciate it. We’re going to have a serious talk.”
Suzie was a good waitress and kept the drinks coming without either of us having to ask. After a while, Marty and I shared a hamburger and nibbled at the fries. Marty had walked over to say hello to one of his clients from the island who was putting in a separate pool for his children and wanted a new patio with two enclosed rooms built around it.
There was a TV on in the corner, and I saw a local news piece on Teal’s murder. Vero Beach was on the very edge of the local news territory, and the story had gained some interest because shootings generally didn’t occur in an upscale town like that.
I stared at the TV, relieved Marty wasn’t at the table to see it. The pretty, young female reporter spoke in front of Teal’s cute house, and the story was interspersed with footage and earlier interviews. One of them was with a police detective who said absolutely nothing about the facts of the case other than to give the information that they had a body and no witnesses. A photo of Teal flashed on the screen. She was dressed up like she was going to a fancy party or a ball. It suddenly struck me as sad.
The reporter said, “Anyone with any information about this horrendous crime can call Crime Stoppers or the Vero Beach Police Department.” It made me think about what had happened and how Marty had snapped so unexpectedly.
The news story headed for its conclusion with the reporter saying, “Police are working around the clock to solve the murder of Teal Hawking. Evidence is still being analyzed, and interviews are being conducted.” Then the story ended with the police detective declaring, “We won’t stop until this case is solved.”
Marty walked back to the table as I processed that last remark. We sat, silently watching all the rich and wannabe-rich people as they came and went through the restaurant’s door. After Marty had downed a double vodka, I finally said, “You feel like another game?” His eyes were a little woozy, but he was still in control.
“Sure. What’d you have in mind?”
“A good game of make-believe.”