“And besides,” she added, “the official conclusion is that the death was an accident.”
“I know that, but I’m just spitballing here. As a homicide investigator, don’t you want information on every theory out there?”
“Every reasonable theory,” she said. “The notion that my brother would have waited five years to exact revenge for our dad, and then snuck into Sweet Pine to kill your father is not what I would call reasonable.”
“Emotional crimes are not often reasonable, Monica.”
“And they usually don’t take years to concoct, Edward.”
He didn’t want to argue with her. He knew the criminal mind, and she knew investigative tactics. They weren’t enemies. They should work together. Edward just wanted to eliminate Miguel as a suspect. Monica should be in favor of that. “You wouldn’t mind if I talked to him, would you?” he asked.
If he thought his request would rattle her, he was wrong. She continued eating her dinner. After a few bites, she said, “Under whose authority would you be conducting this interrogation? I mean, you’re not a cop. At least, I don’t think you are. Based on appearances, you’re a guy with a psychology degree living in Miami, most likely treating patients in an office. What do you know about questioning anyone about a possible murder?”
He had to tread carefully. He didn’t want her to think he was overstepping her. But his doctorate was in criminal psychology. He was an expert in unraveling the criminal mind. Or, he should be. “I know more than you might think. I’m employed by Miami-Dade County in the criminal-investigations department.”
Her eyes widened. “So you are a cop?”
“Nope. I’m a criminal psychologist. I often question suspects to try and determine the truth of their statements and to come up with motives, if they exist. When I’m not at Miami PD, I counsel at the holding facilities. Suspects and convicted criminals make up the majority of my social circle these days. I’d really like to talk to Miguel.”
She ordered another beer. Several minutes passed before she said, “I see.”
“My intent to speak with your brother wouldn’t be to accuse him of something. As a matter of fact, I’m hoping to eliminate him as a suspect. Some good does come out of my conversations with these guys,” he said. “Not everyone I talk to goes to jail, Monica, or deserves to.”
He waited while the bartender set down her beer. When asked if he wanted another, he declined.
Edward finished his meal while Monica nursed her second beer. “What do you say, Monica?” he finally asked. “May I have your permission to talk to your brother?”
“It’s not easy to reach him,” she said. She pushed back her plate. “I don’t even know his address. Are you willing to meet with him in Miami?”
“I’d rather talk to him here in town. Better yet, at my Dad’s. Body language can be as important as words when a suspect is questioned at the scene of the crime. Perhaps your sheriff’s department could request that he come to Sweet Pine since he knew my father. It’s the truth, after all. Just tell him you’re questioning everyone who came into contact with William Smith. That’s also true.”
“I know what to say, Edward.”
“Great. Sure you do.” He hoped she could tell that he appreciated the favor she’d just granted him. He liked her. She was fair, and he wanted her to feel the same about him. “We’re working together on this, Monica. We both want to uncover what happened.”
“And I hope we do, Edward, but I don’t think it will come from the mouth of Miguel Cortez. He didn’t kill your father. I would swear to that. But he is a liar and he’s good at it. You should know that.”
She pulled a few dollars from her pocket and started to set them on the bar.
“I’ll get this,” Edward said.
Those dark eyes flashed again. “No, you won’t.”
“But I want to.”
“My meal, I’m paying.” She set down the money and he didn’t argue.
“Are you leaving now?”
“Yep. Got a half-mile walk up the road to my house.”
“I walked from Dad’s house. I could use more exercise. I’ll walk you back.”
“That’s not necessary. Besides, the Judge’s house is in the opposite direction. And I don’t need a protector.”
“I’m sure you don’t. But I’ve already told you that I don’t want to go home. Besides, I’ve kept you out longer than you were probably planning, and I intend to see you home. Let me do this, Monica.”
She gave him a look that said she understood his gallantry was basically about him not wanting to go back to the Judge’s house. She shrugged and headed for the door. Edward dropped a few bills on top of hers and followed.
CHAPTER FIVE
MONICA WASN’T AFRAID of the dark. But this lonely stretch of Highway 1 was about as dark as any patch of road anywhere. A few side lanes showed lights from a smattering of houses and trailers, but mostly this area was sparsely inhabited. Admittedly, she was glad to have some company.
She glanced at Edward’s profile. Strong jaw, nicely shaped nose, just enough flesh in his cheeks to make him look healthy. He walked with his hands in his pockets, a slow, steady pace, and seemed to be keeping her shorter strides in mind.
After a minute or so he said, “Something really strange happened today.”
“Isn’t that more or less the story of your life lately?”
“You’re right about that. Tragedy followed by a freakish sort of surprise, but this is the opposite of losing a family member. A young woman showed up at the marina today. I’ve never seen her before.” He took a deep breath. “She claims to be my sister.”
Monica stopped in midstride, then lightly touched Edward’s elbow. “No kidding? That is weird. Was she on the level? I mean, she showed up two days after your father died. Did she claim any connection to the judge?”
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “I thought the same thing, that she was after an inheritance, might try to convince me she was related to my father. But she was surprised to learn that my dad had died. And it was clear she didn’t know him.”
“So, she is related to your biological father?”
“No. She said we have the same mother, not that it’s anything to brag about.”
“Interesting.” Monica suddenly felt very protective of Edward and didn’t want anyone to take advantage of him while he was grieving. Grief made a person vulnerable to all types. “Do you remember her at all?”
“No. I was put into foster care at the age of three. This lady and her twin sister were born at the same time my mother gave me up and were immediately put up for adoption themselves. To my knowledge I never lived in the same house with them.”
“Her twin? You have two sisters?”
“I guess.”
“And she expects you to take her word for this?”
“Maybe she expected me to, Monica, but I wouldn’t do that.”
“Right. Okay, you’re a smart guy, I get it. I hate to be suspicious of people’s motives, but I can’t help it. You should be careful. She still might have an angle she’s working to get something from you.”
“She had a few facts that check out. And she’s willing to submit to a DNA test.”
That was a good sign. “Then do it,” Monica encouraged. “You can’t be too careful. Because the timing is just so coincidental.”
He nodded. “I almost hope she’s wrong about everything. This sounds odd, but after just losing the only family I ever had, I’m not too keen on taking on any new ones, even if she is on the level. I need some time to sort out everything with my father. I can’t even imagine adjusting to a sibling relationship with...complete strangers.”
“I absolutely understand,” Monica said. “Is she sticking around Sweet Pine for a while? I can keep an eye on her.”
“Don’t do that
. She doesn’t seem threatening. I’m sure she’s just visiting.”
“Do you mind if I talk to her, though?” Monica asked.
“Why would you talk to her?”
She gave him a little smile. “Besides the fact that I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you, it’s only fair, isn’t it? You’re talking to my brother, so...”
He laughed, a low, husky sound from deep in his throat. She liked the sound. And she was happy to learn he could still laugh.
“I can handle talking to your brother,” he said. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Hey, you’re an expert in criminal minds, body language, all that stuff. Call me if you need me, though.”
She slowed and came to a stop. “This is it. I live up this lane. First house.”
“I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”
She wondered what he would think of her pale yellow modest rental house. She’d worked hard to get it and worked hard every day to keep it, but compared to the judge’s big old pine mini-mansion down the road, well... “That’s not necessary,” she said. “My mother is still up. The lights are on.”
He took her elbow and turned her in the direction of the house. After a few hundred feet they were in her drive.
“Cute place,” he said. “Looks like something you would have.”
How could he possibly determine that? Did she look like the type who would grow morning glories and daffodils? She briefly stared at her yard, trying to see it through Edward’s eyes. The porch light shone on her gardens with the various colorful blooms. One single queen palm tree shaded her bedroom window. The grass was clipped short and was a healthy green. Striped canvas awnings kept out the morning sun and added a touch of whimsy. Nine hundred square feet was hardly enough space for three people, but it was home to a loving family. Could he tell that, as well?
“Thanks,” she said. “And thanks for walking me home.”
“No problem. Glad to do it. Considering what I’m going back to, I wish you lived farther.”
And then he took her hand in his and held it for a few seconds. She was startled, but in a strange, pleasant way. His thumb lightly massaged her knuckles.
“Thanks for listening to me tonight,” he said. “I promise not to take up so much of your time with my family saga.”
“Anytime,” she said. Her eyelashes fluttered as she focused on their clasped hands. “I should go in.”
“Sure,” he said.
“Monica!” Her mother’s voice came through the screen door. “Is that you?”
Monica instantly dropped Edward’s hand. “Yes, Mama. I’m coming.”
“Thank the Lord,” Rosa said. “I was just about to call the sheriff’s office.”
Monica chuckled at the absurdity of her mother’s threat. “That’s family for you,” she said to Edward. “Think long and hard before you add a couple of sisters to your family tree.”
She took a few steps toward the house.
“Monica?”
She stopped and turned back to look at Edward, who hadn’t moved to leave yet.
“I’m glad I’m working with you,” he said. “I’m sorry that we share the same sort of heartbreak—our fathers passing. I feel comforted since you understand what it means.”
She nodded. “I do. Get some rest, Edward. Tomorrow will be a better day.”
* * *
A LOUD BANGING on the front door awakened Edward from the first sound sleep he’d had in two nights. “What the...?”
He sat up in bed, tried to glimpse outside his window, which showed the barest signs of daylight. “Hang on,” he called. “Be right there!”
He threw a T-shirt over his head and stumbled downstairs in his comfy pants and bare feet. When he reached the first floor, he saw his visitor through the open front window. He recognized the guy his dad had hired to help at the marina. “What are you doing here, A.J.?” he muttered to himself.
The young man gave a brief wave through the glass. “Hey, there, Edward. Thought you might want to open up today.”
A. J. McGinnis had worked for Edward’s father for over a year. The judge’s previous assistant had taken a higher paying job in Key West with a charter fishing boat company. Desperate to find a replacement out of the limited Sweet Pine labor pool, William had hired A.J. And despite the fact that A.J.’s language appeared to have gotten fouler and his clothes greasier in spite of his employment at Smitty’s, he showed up for work every day. Bottom line, he was a good boat mechanic and a dependable employee. Between the two of them, and Edward when he was around, the judge managed to keep his business running and boats rented.
Edward opened the door. “I’m not renting anything until after the funeral,” he explained.
“But we’ve got bookings today,” A.J. said. “Just a few, but the folks are coming all the way from Homestead.”
“I called them and canceled. Everyone expressed their condolences and rebooked for a couple of weeks from now. There were no hard feelings.” Except for A.J., Edward thought. The young guy would lose tips today. “I’m sorry I forgot to let you know.”
The stark reality of the moment made Edward realize that he’d have to get someone to come in and manage Smitty’s. Maybe A.J. could take care of reservations and payments, but Edward would have to train him and then find someone to do A.J.’s job. His to-do list just got longer, and he considered closing the marina for an extended period.
“That’s just great for you,” A.J. said. “But I was counting on working this weekend, not to mention today. I respectfully stayed away until this morning, giving you time and all, but I need the pay, Edward. This will be my third day without a salary.”
Now the guy was just being insensitive. Obviously, nothing in the last couple of days had been “great” for Edward. He managed to hold his temper.
Edward knew his father paid A.J. on a daily basis. Perhaps he didn’t really trust the guy to show up every time he should. Money at the end of a workday was usually a good incentive. “How much do you need, A.J.?” Edward asked.
“If you open up on Wednesday, after the judge’s memorial service, a hundred bucks should do me for now.” He squinted at Edward. “You are going to open up, aren’t you?”
Edward had only canceled reservations through Tuesday, but he supposed it was time to think of the coming days. “I’m going to be here, anyway,” Edward said. “So, yeah, plan on working Wednesday.” He opened the wallet he’d left on the credenza by the door and took out five twenties.
A.J. palmed them and turned away. “See you at the service and then bright and early Wednesday,” he called over his shoulder. He claimed a bicycle he must have leaned against the property fence. In a moment he was pedaling down the road, his thin, light brown ponytail flying out behind him. Edward didn’t know where the man was going. Some nights, especially rainy ones, he slept in the bait house farther down the shore, unless he found someone to offer him a couch.
Edward stared at the sun rising over the water to the east. No sense going back to bed, he thought. He’d make a pot of coffee and begin the task of going through his father’s belongings. A sad and arduous chore, but his father had told him that everything he owned would be left to Edward. So if Edward was going to consider selling the business and the house, he had to know every scrap of paper his father had left behind. “Just exactly what have you left me, Dad?” he asked the silent house.
Edward was onto his second cup of coffee and third trash can of miscellaneous junk from kitchen drawers and cabinets when the phone rang. He hoped the call wasn’t from a potential customer. He was tired of explaining the reason they were closed. And it hurt every time he went over the cold facts.
“Smitty’s In and Out,” he said.
“Good morning, Edward,” a soft but strong female voice said. “It’s Brooke. I hope it’s not too early to call.”
&nb
sp; He closed his eyes and pictured the cute blonde lady who’d insisted she was his sister. Was he really in the mood to go over her claim today? But it wasn’t too early. Eight thirty was a respectable time to call. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I am pretty busy, though.”
“Sure, I understand,” she said. “Again, I’m so sorry about your father. But I’d really like to talk to you. Just you and me this time. Jeremy is staying at the hotel.”
“How much time do you need?” he said, knowing he sounded like an impatient clod. But he didn’t have a lot of time. The funeral was tomorrow. The business was reopening on Wednesday. He and Monica were in the middle of an investigation. The thought of her calmed him. He wondered if she was working on the case today.
“You have to eat, don’t you? How about meeting me for breakfast? There’s a nice little diner a few miles north of you called Harry’s. Do you know it?”
“I know it. Okay. I’ll meet you there in an hour if that works for you.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
* * *
EDWARD ARRIVED AT Harry’s Good Eats at nine thirty after an easy five-mile drive from Sweet Pine. Monday mornings were usually quiet in the Keys in the summer. Weekenders had gone home and locals were gearing up for the workweek. He wondered again what Monica was doing.
When he pulled into the parking lot he saw the same rental car that his supposed sister had arrived in yesterday. He parked a few spots away and walked to the door of the restaurant. Before going in, he spotted her in a booth. She was facing the door, her face turned slightly to look out the near window. He took a moment to study her, trying to find similarities between the two of them.
He decided that if a person was looking for details in common, it might be possible to find them. They both had blond hair, though his was darker than her sunny color. Both had natural waves, hers bound into a casual knot at the back of her head, his still slightly mussed from sleeping. And their eyes. He’d noticed the day before that hers were as blue as the bay water, probably brighter than his, but still close.
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