A Secondhand Murder (20 page)

“
I'll be down another time when I can soak up some sun. For now, I'm just happy to be here with you and Max. We haven't had family time for so long.”

The boat was small compared to many of the local charters. There was one head, a small galley, and three cabins—two in the bow and a larger one, occupied by Grandy and Max, in the stern. I took the one on the left of the companionway ladder. The room barely had enough space to turn around in, even if you were careful to tuck your arms to your sides. I stashed my overnight bag under the berth, then, thinking twice about the action, pulled it out again to extract the papers that Jerry had given me. I wanted to take another look at them before we departed for the local eatery.

The only way to read in the small room was to lie down on the bed, so I lowered myself onto the firm mattress and turned on the small light above my pillow. By the time I had digested the contents of the documents, my suspicions had been confirmed. I wanted to join the manhunt for Jerry, and I hoped that I'd find him before the cops did. When I did, I wanted to shake him silly, then kill him. My murderous fantasy was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by Grandy's voice.

“
Let's go, sweetie. You know there'll be a line, and I'm starving.”

I placed the papers under my pillow and turned off the light. Through the port window I could see only rain and palm trees bending in the wind.
Where's Jerry?
It would have been a fine night for his murder.

When I opened the door, Grandy looked at my face and scowled. “This is supposed to be a vacation. I know the weather is rotten, but you look like you have your own storm brewing inside. What's up?”

There was no sense in making Max and Grandy pay for Jerry's actions. “I'm sorry. I guess I'm just letting this cold get me down.” Grandy didn't believe me. She threw me one of her ‘You're lying' looks.

“
We'll talk over food.” She took my arm and pushed me toward the companionway. “Take one of those rain slickers on your right. You'll need it.”

The three of us arrived at the restaurant looking like Cape Cod fisherman in our yellow raingear. The locals in the place hardly glanced in our direction. We clearly belonged there.

The tourists entered with their best tropical wear beaten by wind and rain, their Jam's World regalia so limp and weather-beaten that it had lost all its resale value. I felt sorry for them. This wasn't the weather that they had packed for. Some of them had obviously wised up and purchased sweatshirts and jackets from the local merchants with “Key Largo” logos.

Family Kitchen, the restaurant we chose for dinner, was frequented by Key Largo residents and occasionally discovered by tourists. It had atmosphere, but not the kind usually associated with Keys dining. There was no sandy beach seating where one could sit outside and listen to the wind in the palms. Oh, you could eat outside if you wanted, but you had to do so under an aluminum overhang within inches of the gravel parking lot, where the insistent roar of automobiles racing down Highway 1 would interfere with intimate conversation.

Inside, the two small dining areas were filled with cracked vinyl booths, mismatched chairs and wooden tabletops that had been marked by the initials of many impatient diners. The entrance to the dining rooms was partially blocked by a large bar and the double-hinged doors of a tiny kitchen. You could either put your name on the waiting list or hover at the crowded bar, where you were almost guaranteed to touch butts with an eager stranger trying to push through to the counter.

The food was that good.

A table opened up and an employee yelled Max's name. We ran over, and Max waved away the menus the waitress offered.

“
There's only one dish to order here for dinner. Fried whole yellowtail. Three.” He held up as many fingers. Grandy and I nodded our agreement.

This was where we ate every time we were in Key Largo. You could find fine gourmet dining, but this was just great eats. We drank local ale with dinner and ate with little conversation until I pushed away my empty plate, sat back in my chair and sighed. I was relieved that Grandy was as swept up in her food as I had been. I wasn't eager to talk about my mood, since Jerry was the cause of it. I wasn't off the hook yet.

“
There's a lull in the storm,” Max observed. “Quieter.”

The hot food and the ever-growing number of patrons in the small dining area were creating enough warmth to chase away the damp and cold. Our abandoned slickers lay in a shiny vinyl heap on an empty chair. Max swallowed the last of his beer and, seeing that the two of us were finished as well, ordered another round. Extracting a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped perspiration off his sunburned brow and cheeks. He really did look like Hemingway—well, at least like a computer-aged version.

The waitress set three full bottles on the table.

Grandy ignored hers and skewered me with one of her 'fess up looks. “Now. Tell.”

“
Uh oh, sounds serious,” said Max.

“
Something's aggravating Eve. She doesn't look happy. What do you think, Max?”

“
Maybe the weather's getting her down. It certainly doesn't make for that sunny vacation we promised her.”

Two pairs of eyes fixed on me without wavering. They were kind and friendly, and I knew I couldn't lie to them. I took a quick sip of beer.

“
It's Jerry.”

“
It's always Jerry,” Grandy said. Max nodded in agreement.

“
When I went back to Sanders' house, I saw him inside the study with a gun in his hand. He opened the window and shoved some papers at me. Now I know why he was so interested in getting into that house and why Napolitani let him wander off while we were examining the knife.”

“
Napolitani was in on this?” asked Grandy.

“
Yep, I think so.”

Max reached out and patted my hand. “It's okay, honey. You can tell us. We know you've got a soft spot for Jerry.”

I exploded. “Soft spot? Don't be silly. Jerry and me, that's water under the bridge, especially since he signed away all of our assets, the idiot.”

“
He did what?” asked Grandy.

“
He sold the house in Connecticut, the sailboat, his condo in the Bahamas and the Jag to Sanders. Oh sure, they were his to sell. His name was on those properties, but our divorce agreement stipulates that he owes me a percentage of the sale value, and he sold them to Sanders for peanuts. Now why'd he do that?”

“
It's simple. If it's only a percentage of the value and not a fixed amount that he owes you, it means he won't have to pay you much. A typical Jerry move.” Grandy moved her bottle around and around, creating a pattern of wet circles on the table.

“
I don't think so. Something else is up. He gave me the papers for safekeeping. He had to know I'd look at them. It was some kind of message, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out.”

They looked first at me then at each other, expressing pain and sympathy. “You need to get over that man.”

Max nodded. “Maybe, because you signed those papers without a lawyer, something can be done to alter the terms of the divorce.”

“
Maybe.” My mind was somewhere else. Jerry couldn't be as bad as recent evidence was making him out to be. If only I could talk to him.

T
he wind caught our raincoats and whipped them around our knees as we ran from the restaurant to the car.

“
She's not letting up any.” Max unlocked the car doors, and we slid into the warmth of the interior.

From the passenger seat, Grandy twisted around to talk to me. The beads of water in her white hair twinkled in the parking lot lights like dew on a foggy morning.

“
I hope you won't think I'm being nosy,” she said, “but I'd sure like to see those papers Jerry gave you.”

“
Sure. Why not? Maybe you and Max can tell me what I'm not seeing.” I leaned back into my seat and watched the halos of light pass by my window.

We dashed from the car to the boat, crowding down the companionway and into the small galley.

“
I'll make coffee.” Grandy grabbed the old aluminum drip pot from the overhead cupboard. “You fetch those papers.”

I hung my slicker back on its hook and entered my cabin. When I moved the pillow aside, I found my hiding place empty. A quick search of the bed and the small storage space below revealed nothing. I was more than a little creeped out. Who had gotten in, and why would they take those papers?

I stuck my head out of the cabin. “They're gone. Somebody took them while we were at dinner.”

“
I locked the hatch door. How could anybody get in here without a key?” asked Max.

I thought immediately of Mr. Napolitani and his expertise with locks. My eyes met those of Grandy, and I knew she was thinking the same thing.

“
We were followed,” I said. “I'll bet Jerry has those papers back in his possession.”

“
Helped by a future relative.” Grandy slapped the pot lid closed and placed it on the stove.

“
I guess for Napolitani, family is everything.” I sank into the gallery bench seat.

“
Look, girls,” Max slid in beside me, “we're all tired from the day and the weather. We can talk this through tomorrow. Let's just get a good night's sleep.”

“
After coffee,” said Grandy.

“
I'll pass. I'm too bummed out and exhausted to stay on my feet another minute. I'm going to make friends with my berth.” I kissed both of them goodnight and entered my cabin. I'd just turned off the overhead light when my new cell rang.

I hit the answer button. Hard. “This better be important, like natural disaster important.”

“
It's Jerry.”

“
Isn't it always?”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Whenever I feel like I've bottomed out, you show up and make things worse. Go away.”

“
Okay.”

“
No. Wait. First tell me why you took those papers.”

“
What do you mean?”

I sat up in the bed and switched on the light, as if illumination might help me deal with my aggravating ex-husband.

“
I know what was in them, and I don't appreciate having our divorce settlement taken away so easily.”

“
That's the whole point, Evie. The property sales were never registered. I've got the only existing copies.”

“
How was I supposed to know what you had in mind? Anyway, you gave them to me, yet you didn't trust me enough so you had to break into my Grandy's boat and steal them. Napolitani helped you, didn't he?” I slammed my pillow across the small cabin in frustration.

“
Are you saying you don't have them anymore, that someone stole them?”

“
You. You took them.” Now I was yelling into the phone, my voice loud enough to alert Grandy and Max. I hesitated. “You did steal them, didn't you?”

“
I did not.”

“
Well then, do you know who did and why?”

“
I've got a good idea.”

“
You know the cops are looking for you, right?”

“
Looking for me? Why?”

“
For attempted murder and kidnapping.”

There was silence on the line. “I'm shocked. And innocent.” He sounded genuinely taken aback, but Jerry was a master at feigning surprise.

“
Who did I kidnap and attempt to kill?”

“
Me.”

More silence. The only way I could tell that he hadn't disconnected was that I could hear breathing interspersed with gulping noises.

“
Now that's crazy. Why would I do that? Who said I did?”

“
Sanders told the police you were the one who threw me into a car trunk and drove me off into the Everglades.”

“
Figures.”

“
Is that all you've got to say. Don't you want to hear what happened to me? I could have been killed.”

“
Sorry, honey. Listen, I'm parked in a strip mall in Ft. Lauderdale and … Cops. Gotta go.” He clicked off.

“
You okay in there?” Grandy tapped on my door. “I thought I heard you yelling. Are you having a bad dream?”

A bad dream? That would have been nice.

Maybe it was the quiet descending on the marina that woke me, a startling silence after a long night of rain lashing against the windows and palm fronds rattling in the frenzied wind. Then I heard soft footsteps on the deck above. A tap on my door soon followed.

“
I heard it, too,” whispered Max through the door. “I'll take care of whoever's up there.”

Max was seventy-eight years old and in good shape for a man of that age, but handling an intruder would take strength as well as stealth. I opened the door and grabbed a heavy skillet from the galley. Max might require support.

When I stepped onto the deck, I could see that my help was superfluous. Max was standing against the cabin with a spear gun in his hands, pointing the ugly thing at a man in the bow.