Caught Read-Handed (18 page)

The next morning, the atmosphere in the café was joyful. Twice I caught Miguel dancing between the work counter and the stove. Then Miss Augusta and Blondie Quinlin came in chortling about the success of the Guy Bradley Environmental Action League's efforts to save the anaconda's life.

So when George came in, I shouldn't have been surprised at his mood. Although he had no interest in the snake, change was certainly in the air. It was so much more than the bright blue, green and orange Hawaiian shirt that replaced his somber New York wear. He was ecstatic. He could barely speak. When he put his hands on my waist and gave me a kiss on the cheek, I knew things had turned for the better.

“George, why are you wearing your happy face today? Have they arrested the real killer?”

I was immediately sorry I'd asked, because his shoulders
slumped and that worried big-brother look I'd seen so often lately crept across his face.

“Not yet. But the prodding from the veterans got Swerling to take his responsibility seriously and he went to court and got a judge to order bail. I'm going to make the arrangements in a little while. When Alan is released from the hospital we can bring him to stay with us at the condo, until we get him, er, settled.”

“Come with me.” I brought him into the kitchen to share his good news with Bridgy and Miguel, who were as excited as I was. Bridgy gave him a big ole hug and began dancing around the room.

Miguel, always practical, asked about Alan's favorite foods and insisted that he would make Alan's homecoming meal. George started some version of “we couldn't possibly impose,” but Miguel refused to take no for an answer.

“It is settled,
sí
? No arguments. And don't you look chipper in your flashy shirt? This is celebration time. I insist you sit down and let me fix you something. Anything you want.”

Ever the New Yorker, George joked about pastrami on rye before saying, “Those sandwiches you made us once. The meat and cheese with the pickle slices.”

“Ah, a
cubano.
A Cuban sandwich. You want it to stay or to go? And what about some food for the lovely ladies?”

“I'm actually here to meet the men O'Mally happily calls Alan's defense team—Pastor John and the veterans.”

Miguel looked past George and posed a question to me with his eyes. I nodded an assent. What would a few sandwiches cost us?

Miguel gave George his widest smile. “It is not good to hold a meeting on an empty stomach. I will make a platter
of sandwiches. The brain works better when the stomach is happy. Go sit down. Sassy will get you a drink.”

I led George to Dashiell Hammett and was handing him a glass of lemonade and a copy of the
Fort Myers Beach News
when Cady Stanton came in semi-shouting. “I have great news.” Then he saw me serving George and stopped abruptly.

I hurried over and led him into the kitchen. Miguel looked up from the sandwiches he was making. “My, my, we have a lot of company today.
Qué pasa
, my friend?”

“The town turned down the pool.”

He may as well have said, “The cow jumped over the moon.” We all gawked at him, waiting for an explanation. When he realized that not one of us knew what he was talking about, he said, “The Lipscome pool. The project is dead . . .”

And when he recognized that the end of that sentence could easily be “dead as Tanya Lipscome,” Cady dropped his eyes to the floor.

Trying to spare him embarrassment, we three all spoke at once, praising the wisdom of the town fathers and thanking Cady for telling us. I wondered if anyone else thought Tanya might still be alive if the town had acted sooner. We'd never know until we found out if the real killer turned out to be Otto Ertz or Cordelia Ramer.

I heard more voices in the dining room and peeked out the pass-through. Pastor John, Owen Reston and Mark Clamenta were circling around George, giving him pats on the back and doing that arm-punch thing men do when a team effort is going well. I was surprised there was no butt slapping, but of course this team wasn't playing a sport. They were saving a man's life.

I followed them to Dashiell Hammett and took drink orders. A refill on the lemonade for George, sweet tea for the pastor and water for the veterans. Miguel brought out a platter of Cuban sandwiches and set it on the table with a flourish. “Here, my friends. Enjoy.” He looked at Mark. “Thank you once again for saving the lives of so many island pets. You must not forget to come this Sunday.” He smiled at Pastor John. “Along with my neighbor Liam Gerrity, I am hosting a cornhole party to celebrate that the snake is gone from Florida forever. Later in the day. Long after the last service has ended.”

Pastor said he would be delighted to come and Miguel returned to the kitchen. I stayed nearby for a bit until I was sure the men didn't require anything else. They chatted about fishing, and Mark Clamenta tried to get a commitment from George to go out on a half-day trip before he headed back north.

A trucker came in for coffee and a burger to go. When I was done serving him, I stepped back to George's table to refill glasses and bus the dirty plates and utensils. I offered coffee but no one was interested. As soon as I brought the plates into the kitchen, Miguel pointed to a plate of Robert Frost Apple and Blueberry Tartlets.

When I came out of the kitchen with the tartlets, Pastor John was waiting for me at the counter. He signaled me to come closer, so I leaned in. “I heard you went parasailing over the Lipscome house yesterday.”

Ah, the island drums were beating once again. If you caught a marlin on a fishing trip two miles west of Lovers Key, there would be a dozen congratulatory messages on your answering machine before you set a foot on dry land.

Pastor continued. “You're not planning any sleuthing, are you? Sassy, we all remember what happened the last time you scurried off on your own. I want you to be assured that you are a cherished member of this community. We don't want anything
sinister
to happen to you.”

I knew I was being gently chastised for past bad behavior and warned against repeating it. He didn't seem to care that by what he thought of as my risky behavior, I'd caught a killer and saved a life. Two lives if you count my own. Still I smiled, thanked him for his concern and promised I had no intention of doing anything the least bit dangerous. I didn't even have to cross my fingers because I had no clear idea of any path that would lead me or the sheriff's department to the person who killed Tanya Trouble. I really wanted to help Alan Mersky, but I had no whiz-bang ideas.

I set the plate of tartlets on the table, refilled Owen's water glass and fussed around, pretending to clean the dining room while I waited for the men to get down to brass tacks, a phrase my father used whenever someone didn't get on topic as quickly as he'd like.

Two grandmotherly ladies came in, both carrying tennis rackets. Apparently exhausted, they dropped roughly into the chairs at Robert Louis Stevenson. The older of the two had a straight gray bob and a baby pink designer tennis outfit. She pulled off her visor and began blotting her face with a wad of tissues. I was barely at the table with my order pad in hand when her not much younger friend said, “Water, please.”

Judging by how red-faced they were I brought two glasses and then I filled a pitcher with water and lemon slices and set it next to the sugar bowl. The ladies drained their glasses
in a few gulps. When they set the empties on the table I refilled quickly.

The lady in pink said, “Thank you. We overestimated our abilities and underestimated our ages.” She shook her head. “We walked from our hotel to the tennis courts, played two sets and started to walk back, only to realize we'd run out of steam.” She shook her red plastic water bottle. “And water. I finished this sometime during the second set. Are you starting to feel human again, Estelle?”

Her friend smiled. “Sure am.” She turned to me. “We were mighty glad to see your little café. Time to rest and replenish as my daughter always says. May we have menus?”

I assured them that they didn't have to order anything. They were welcome to relax and sip water for as long as they liked but Estelle claimed she was famished, and her friend agreed.

I took their order for one
Green Eggs and Ham
and one
Swiss Family Robinson
Cheeseburger, then I fussed around the café straightening a chair here, aligning salt and pepper shakers there. All the time I was listening to the four men sitting in the rear of the café and debating the best defense for Alan Mersky.

The door opened again. Elaine Tibor, dressed super casually in a lemon yellow tank and denim cutoffs, waved and stopped at the counter. I realized instantly that we owed her a day's pay. I walked over to meet her. “Looking for your pay?”

She laughed. “How did you know? Grad students skimp along. Every penny counts.”

“In that case, let me get your pay stub and give you cash rather than a check. Can you wait here a minute?” I went back into the office, found the pay slip I'd tacked to the bulletin
board the day Elaine worked, and got out my accounts book to record the transaction. I was opening the lockbox we laughingly called our “safe” when Bridgy stuck her head in.

“What?”

“Elaine came in for her pay. With everything else I forgot all about it. I'm going to give her cash.”

Bridgy gave me a broad wink. “Did you ask her about Barry Baby?”

I stuck my tongue at her and then began double counting Elaine's pay. When I was certain I had the correct amount, I tucked the money into an envelope along with her pay slip. When I pushed through the door into the dining room, Elaine had slid all the way down the counter and was avidly listening to George and his friends talking about Alan's defense.

Owen was saying, “There is no tangible physical evidence connecting Alan to Mrs. Lipscome other than the broken branch. Since Alan never locks his car and all the fingerprints on the branch were washed away in the hot tub, there is a strong chance this will never go to trial.”

I had to call Elaine's name twice to get her attention but I understood why. Owen's comments would be fascinating even to someone unfamiliar with the case. Elaine clearly knew the family and would be doubly interested.

I pushed the envelope and a receipt across the countertop. “Here you go, count your money, and if you wouldn't mind signing.”

Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse, took a quick look at the caller and punched the “Off” button, then glanced at the money in the envelope and signed the receipt, evidently in a great hurry. Her purse fell over and some of the contents spilled onto the counter. She scrambled to shove
everything back and snapped the purse closed. But it was too late. I had seen a white gold and sparkly item.

Elaine stuffed the envelope in her pocket and nearly ran out the door, tossing “I'm late for an appointment,” over her shoulder.

Not so fast
, I thought.
Not so fast
. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed my keys, told Bridgy to watch the dining room and I ran out right behind Elaine. I was in the Heap-a-Jeep shifting into reverse gear when the passenger door opened and Owen Reston jumped in the seat.

“Pastor John sent me,” was all he said.

I pulled out of the lot and could see Elaine's dark green Corolla a couple of blocks ahead.

Owen asked where we were going. He didn't seem surprised when I told him I had no idea. “You see that Corolla? The woman who rushed out of the café had Tanya Lipscome's fancy cigarette lighter in her purse. I'm sure of it.”

“So why are we following her? She could have gotten the lighter anywhere. Maybe she borrowed it and forgot to return it. Now that the owner is dead . . .”

“According to Sally at the library, Tanya never let the lighter out of her hands. She loved to show it off. Claimed it cost tens of thousands of dollars. She would never lend it to the tutor.”

“Tutor?”

“Elaine, the woman we're following, tutors one of Tanya's stepsons.”

“And why, exactly, are we following her?” Owen turned in his seat to face me, to judge my response carefully.

“I don't know precisely. Oh wait, she's turning. I got a glimpse of the lighter and before I could ask about it she
hustled out of the café. And she has some kind of relationship with Tanya's husband. Something isn't right.”

I made a left and followed Elaine from one winding street to another.

Owen gave me an atta-girl cuff on the shoulder. “Okay, then. If we're following your hunch, I'm in. I love chasing down a hunch.”

We trailed Elaine up one street and down another. Suddenly we were back on Estero Boulevard. I fretted. “Do you think she spotted us on her tail?”

Owen seemed to think that was the funniest thing he ever heard. “Who are we supposed to be? Jim Rockford and Angel? Nah, she's just lost. This part of the island has few houses and a ton of small streets that dead-end abruptly in the tangle of mangroves and scrub pines bordering the bay. She probably picked the wrong one. See, I was right. She's turning again.”

I signaled for a left. It was like following Alice down the rabbit hole. The barely there road was overgrown with vegetation and rutted with tire tracks probably ground into the spotty asphalt over the last dozen rainy seasons.

“Hold up, Sassy, and turn off your engine. She has to stop when she turns around that bend up ahead.”

I did as I was told. “You know where we are?”

“The veterans' camp is on the other side of that thicket.” He pointed straight ahead, then swung his arm to the right. “And Alan's hut is maybe twenty yards to the south.”

“That's where she's going. Alan's hut.”

Elaine turned the bend and cut her engine, just as Owen predicted.

“Why? Why would she go anywhere near Alan's hut? For all she knows there are a dozen deputies in there right now ripping it apart for the umpteenth time.” Owen was having trouble seeing what was so obvious to me.

“Because she heard everything you said at the café about there being a lack of physical evidence to connect Alan to the murder. She is going to plant evidence. Frame Alan once and for all.”

“Sassy.” Owen was losing patience. “You realize that by now the deputies have searched the hut and the surrounding grounds more than once. It's too late to drop something that might be evidence and expect it to be credible.”

“You sound like a lawyer.”

“I
am
a lawyer.”

“Let's see where she goes, what she does.” I jumped out of the jeep. Except for the
clee clee
of a few water birds lazily circling above, the thicket was deathly quiet.

Owen was right next to me. “Sassy, if you are sure that she is involved in this murder, it's time for us to take a step back and call the sheriff.”

I knew he was right, but there was no time. Without witnesses Elaine could stash false evidence. One of us had to follow immediately behind and keep an eye on her. “I'll sneak in behind Elaine. You call Ryan Mantoni or Frank Anthony.” I handed Owen my phone. “They're in my speed dial.”

He seized my wrist. “Why don't I follow her and you call?”

“Because you know where we are and I don't. If I give them directions, they'll wind up driving all over the island looking for us.” I yanked my wrist away. “Besides, some of the other vets are bound to be milling around the camp. I'll be perfectly safe.” And I ran around the bend and past Elaine's Corolla.

I stepped lightly along the edge of the wood until I pushed in on the small path Elaine had taken. It seemed to meander among the trees and bushes. I recognized some species like the Jamaican caper, a tree I first learned about when Bridgy and I toured Mound Key with the Books Before Breakfast Club. I was pretty sure that the wide and pretty bushes with a faint turpentine odor were Brazilian pepper, like the ones Ophie planted in her side yard. She said that as long as you didn't crush the leaves, the handsome bushes wouldn't give off an odor. It was her great joy to rip off some leaves and crush them to give anyone nearby a whiff. The smell was so fresh that Elaine must have knocked off a small batch of leaves and stepped on them. The rest of the vegetation was a complete mystery to me.

I saw the veterans' camp immediately. Neat, quiet and almost certainly deserted. To keep my courage up, I hoped that someone was around. I could see Elaine off to my right, her yellow shirt moving slowly through the brush. I knew she was heading toward the area where Owen indicated Alan had set up his hut. She moved cautiously, not wanting to be noticed by anyone just as I didn't want her to catch sight of me walking behind her.

She crept stealthily for eight or ten yards, then quickened her pace. I looked past her. There was a clearing around a thatched hut with a rickety old lawn chair set out front. Four
or five piles of branches and tree limbs were scattered about. This had to be Alan's hut. I sped up. I wanted to catch up with Elaine and confront her before she could do anything to harm Alan. She nearly caught me off guard when she swiveled a full one eighty to make sure she was alone. I ducked behind a gnarled mangrove just in time. A few seconds slower and we would have locked eyes too soon. Just as she reached the edge of the clearing, Elaine took something out of her purse. A ray of sunshine streamed through the mangrove leaves and glinted off the edge of an object with lots of tiny points of light. Tanya's cigarette lighter. I ran toward her, not caring if she heard me coming. I had to stop her. She got to the edge of the hut and turned again, checking her perimeter. She saw me coming. I ran faster. I knew Owen was somewhere behind me and to give him a fix on my location, I called out her name. Loudly. Twice.

Like a kindergartener who stole a cookie from the cookie jar, Elaine turned to me and hid one hand behind her back. She demanded to know what I was doing following her.

I smiled as if we'd just met in the cosmetic aisle at Walgreens. “I'm visiting a friend's house to pick up a few things. I'm surprised to see you here.”

All the while I kept moving toward her. At first she took baby steps backward and mumbled something about a nature walk. Then a look crossed her face. She'd made a decision. It seemed to me I'd be safest if I made the first move. I planted myself in front of her, grabbed her arm and pulled it out from behind her back. Her hand was clenched around Tanya Lipscome's gold and diamond-studded lighter. Close up with the sun hitting it directly, it was a dazzling sight, and I was distracted by the pizazz. Elaine grabbed a branch from
the nearest pile of wood and swung at my head. I ducked and pushed her. She fell back and landed on the folding chair, which crashed to the ground. She grabbed onto the hut and when she recovered her balance, lunged at me. It took all my strength to push her again. This time she bounced off the wall of the hut and came at me screaming ferociously.

I never even noticed Owen Reston come out of the thicket. He ran into the clearing with the speed of the Flash and grabbed Elaine from behind, pinning her arms to her sides.

I reached for the lighter, which had fallen on the ground between us. Then I thought the better of it. I looked right into Elaine's defiant eyes. “I'll leave the lighter for the deputies to find. Wouldn't want to smudge your fingerprints.”

That's when Elaine crumbled. She fell back against Owen and began to wail piteously, like a wounded animal begging to be put out of its misery.

Between sobs she said, “He wanted to marry me. I know he did. But that tyrannical witch wouldn't give him a divorce.”

We heard Ryan calling my name. He and a half dozen other deputies came crashing through the woods. Two deputies moved to stand on either side of Owen, who was still holding Elaine. Ryan gestured at Elaine and said to the deputies, “We better read the young lady her rights.” As a deputy, whose name tag read “Kliner,” began in a very professional and dignified voice, I realized it was the first time I had actually heard the warning in the real world, not on an episode of
Law & Order
or in a movie.

Owen stepped out of the way. Ryan gave him one of those manly punches on the arm and then pointed a hitchhiker's thumb at me. “Thanks for saving our girl here.”

I harrumphed. “I didn't need saving. Owen was along for . . . company.”

Ryan laughed out loud. “Well, then I'm glad you had company. When Owen called, I thought, here she goes again. And I sure didn't want to be the one to tell Lieutenant Anthony. Remember the last time?”

Why were people forever saying that?

I pointed to the lighter. “That belongs to Tanya Lipscome.”

Ryan dropped a marker next to it and signaled another deputy to pick it up in whatever special way they gather evidence. Frank Anthony came up behind us. “Ah, the cigarette lighter. Her husband said she was never without it. Yet when we found Mrs. Lipscome, she had cigarettes on the table beside the hot tub but the lighter was gone.”

Elaine started sobbing as if her heart was broken. All of a sudden she stopped crying and started talking in a monotone voice as though she was the only one who could hear.

“I went to see her. She was in the yard drinking a glass of wine. I told her that Barry didn't love her, that he loved me. She laughed in my face. She held up that stupid cigarette lighter and told me that it meant more to him than I did. Then she lit a cigarette and kept waving her hand, shooing me away like I was nothing. Like it didn't matter that her husband loved me. Me. So I left. But I came back.” Her knees buckled, and Deputy Kliner straightened the folding chair and told her to sit. She dropped into the chair at once.

Frank Anthony winked at Ryan. “Wouldn't it be a wonderful world if Sassy listened to us as obediently as Ms. Tibor?”

Owen Reston joined in the laughter at my expense. I stuck my nose up in the air and ignored them all.

In the first few days after I tangled with Elaine Tibor in
the woods, some folks stopped by the Read 'Em and Eat out of curiosity rather than a desire for a tasty lunch or an entertaining book. Now and again people I barely knew made comments like, “How are you feeling after . . . you know?” or, “Tougher than you look, aren't you?” And then there was the ridiculous “Poor dear, are you having nightmares?” from a woman I'd never seen before.

Ophie spent much of her spare time with us, so she and Bridgy fended off the most aggressive curiosity seekers. Still, Fort Myers Beach being the town it is, intrusive busybodies were few and far between.

In a day or two, life was back to normal.