Key Lime Blues (32 page)

“No shit? What about the father? Did he do it?”

“We don’t know. She might have fallen down the steps, or maybe he killed her. Either way, it looks as if he knew she was dead when he called us. The whole kidnapping thing was a lie. It seems he was covering his ass. The police are going to reopen the investigation. Maybe they can answer all the questions that have come up.”

Brenda shook her head. “What kind of a man would kill his own daughter?”

“She was actually his step-daughter. It was his wife’s family who owned the department stores. When she married Myron, he insisted that if she wanted to be a stay-at-home mother and have him run the business, they had to change the name of the chain to Stewarts. The problem he was faced with was that Celine stood to inherit the stores when she turned twenty-one. After her mother died Celine didn’t get along very well with Myron and they argued a lot. Personally, I think he killed her, and that means Elvis was right. That disturbs me to no end.”

Brenda stretched and looked out over the bow of the boat. She took a moment to adjust the jib sheets, studied the shape of the sail, and sat back down. “Did you ever tell your mother where your information came from?”

“She’d disown me if she knew I’d taken tips from a psychic. It’s funny though. Nick’s death and my helping on the investigation down here have changed our relationship. She doesn’t bug me about coming back to work, and now I call her every week.”

We sat quietly after that, each of us lost in our own thoughts, enjoying the rattle of the rigging and the splash of water against the hull. I knew the sun and wind were going to burn my face, but I didn’t care.

In the distance a large cigarette boat kicked up a wake as it flew across the Gulf and I realized I wouldn’t trade places for anything. Some people like speed. Me, I enjoy the snap, crackle and pop of sails dancing in the wind, and the company of a good woman.

“Can I get you another coffee?” Brenda’s voice broke into my reverie.

“Sure, but no
Kahlua
this time.” I handed her my cup and she went below. When she came back up she sat down next to me, leaned into me, and shot me a smile that dittoed everything I’d been thinking.

THE END

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am indebted to many people who helped make this book a reality. First and foremost, I want to thank my wife, Mary, who has been my first reader and constant editor. Without her help and support this book would not have been possible.

I would also like to thank the members of my critique group; Christine Kling, Neil
Plakcy
, Miriam
Auerbach
, and Sharon Potts. Your comments have helped to make this book better in so many ways.

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2010 by Mike Jastrzebski

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. No part of this text may be reproduced in any manner without the written permission of Mike Jastrzebski.

You can contact me at:
www.mikejastrzebski.com

Read my blog:
www.writeonthewater.com

Other books by the author:
The Storm Killer