Daiquiri Dock Murder

by Dorothy Francis

  “Sure. I’m an early riser.”

  Kane kissed me as if to seal my promise. I hoped he couldn’t read my thoughts. He had no way of knowing of Threnody and my tentative plans for tomorrow. I hoped we wouldn’t have to cancel them. Maybe Kane would decide not to stay on the water for the full day.

  Chapter 29

  Before leaving for The Frangi, Kane decided to exchange the coat he wore for one he kept in my closet. No problem. Can people give themselves high fives? Maybe not. But the minute Kane left my suite and headed for the dance floor, I congratulated myself for keeping my threatening call a secret. I might have felt safer had he known, but he would have insisted on telling the police. No way did I need that.

  I tried to call Threnody to tell her about the snag in tomorrow’s plans. Still no answer. I glanced at my watch. Almost time to begin our evening. Threnody never arrived late. My news could wait until I saw her in The Frangi.

  Although I felt frazzled and would rather have spent the night huddled in bed, I forced myself to dress. Knowing Kane would be there to protect me during the evening helped me conquer my fear of the unknown dangers that might lie ahead.

  My favorite work costume, an off-the-shoulder gown in black, suited my mood, but I lightened the dress, if not my mood, with platinum earrings and a single-strand diamond necklace. The four-inch heels on my strappy sandals would lift me above the crowd.

  Never regret being tall. Dad’s words did a rerun through my mind. Enjoy every inch of it. Women will envy you. Men will admire you. Stand straight and enjoy. Never regret being tall.

  I tried to heed Dad’s words as I locked the door to my suite, tucked the key into my bra, and walked to The Frangi. Kane and Brick, looking resplendent in their white jackets and black crew necks, shared the task of lighting the torches while Dolly in her poet’s blouse took care to keep her distance from the flames. Mama G stood beside her piano calling orders to Pablo and Jessie who took pride in ignoring her and doing as they pleased. The scene reminded me of a cameo from a movie I’d seen many times before tonight.

  Threnody hurried toward me, wearing a sequined tank top over a wispy skirt that skimmed a scant inch above her knees. I spoke before she could say anything.

  “I’ve accepted Kane’s invitation to go boating tomorrow.”

  “How could you! Time’s getting away from us. You could fish with Kane any day of the week.”

  “Couldn’t turn him down without revealing our plan to approach Snipe Gross. We have his address from the phone book. We can call him later.”

  “Not yet. Thought we should take our time, plan our approach carefully. But we need to see him tomorrow, Rafa. Can’t you put Kane off?”

  “No. I really can’t do that, Threnody.” I told her about Kane’s new motor parts and his need to give The Buccaneer a trial run before finalizing plans with his shrimping crew. Once he’s on a run, he has to pay his crew whether they’re dragging nets or stalled somewhere tinkering with a stubborn motor.”

  “You humor that guy too much.”

  “I’ll see to it that I’m back at the hotel by two o’clock. No later.”

  “Marathon’s over an hour’s drive from Key West.” Threnody looked at her watch. “And that’s if traffic moves fast forward and if there’s no snarl on Seven Mile Bridge.”

  “Okay, ladies.” Brick smoothed his beard as he approached. “I see guests gathering in the hallway. Mama G’s about to blow her conch shell. Prepare to smile.”

  “Sure, Brick,” I said. “I’m always prepared to smile.”

  Threnody started to say something, but Mama G’s rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat drowned out her words. She shook her head and settled in a chair near the bandstand while I approached the arriving guests with smile in place. Could one of these strangers be my secret caller? I couldn’t help wondering. And worrying.

  After Threnody’s opening ballad and the combo’s first 5 numbers, Mama G called a short intermission. Without hurrying, Threnody approached me.

  “I can call Snipe Gross from your suite. Give me more privacy than calling from here.”

  “Good idea.” I gave her my door key. “If we could set a late afternoon time to talk with him—say four or four-thirty, we could make it home by five-thirty or six with no problem. The meeting with him shouldn’t take long—unless he’s a talker, unless he gets carried away with his story.”

  “Maybe we should invite him to meet us over a light supper somewhere.”

  “Better not plan on that.” I didn’t want to meet with Capt. Gross or any other person I didn’t know well. But I couldn’t explain that fear to Threnody without telling her about the threatening call. “Maybe we could take him a small gift to thank him for his time and willingness to meet with us.”

  “What kind of a gift, Rafa. That’s a hard one. Candy? He’s an old man, right? Maybe he’s diabetic. How about a book?”

  “A book would be good. Unless he has macular degeneration. But I don’t have time to go shopping.”

  “Let’s pretend he has perfect eyesight. I’ll pick up something while you’re fishing with Kane. But first we have to call this guy, to see if he’ll be willing to talk to us.”

  “Go. You have my key. Go call him before it gets any later.” I tapped on my watch. “Don’t want to wake him up—put him in a bad mood for starters.”

  “Right. I’m on my way.”

  “What’ll you say to him?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. You’re a writer. That much’s true. I can tell him you’re interested in history—boat history.”

  “Good idea. That’s true, and I think he’ll be flattered at our questions about his old boat—questions that only he can answer.”

  “Okay. I’ll go for it.” Threnody stood and started to leave, peering down the hallway toward my suite. “Talk to you soon, with any luck at all, maybe the next intermission.”

  “Deal.” I stood and began mingling with the guests once more, trying to keep close to Kane without making my intentions obvious. The combo played 3 more sets of tunes before Threnody returned and threaded her way to my side.

  “Any problems?” I asked.

  “Nobody answered at first. But I kept trying He finally picked up.”

  “So give! What did he say?”

  “You were right. He felt flattered to have our attention and he agreed to talk with us. I suggested a four-thirty meeting and he said he’d expect us around that time.”

  “Wonderful. Great job. Now let’s avoid talking together any more this evening. Brick seems to be keeping an eye on us. Don’t want him asking questions.”

  “Right. No way do we want that. But there’s one more thing we have to take care of.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We have to get police permission to leave the island. Remember?”

  “I don’t think so, Threnody. Chief Ramsey didn’t say anything about asking permission to leave. He said we should let him know if we planned to go off-island. I listened carefully to his order. There’s a difference between asking and telling. I don’t think he can restrict us by refusing us permission to leave Key West.”

  “Hope you’re right and I’m going to let you check that out. Your turn. I’ve talked to Snipe Gross. You can talk to Chief Ramsey. You found Diego’s body. You’re of more interest to him than I am.”

  I smiled and nodded in case anyone was watching us, but I hated being reminded of that truth. “I’ll call his office first thing in the morning. Don’t think I have to talk to him personally—just let someone in his office know of our plans.”

  “Think someone will want to know why we’re going to Marathon?”

  “Anyone asks, I’ll say we’re going to a dress sale. I think Anthony’s often advertises a sale. Not an event Chief Ramsey would care about.”

  “Nobody who knows you will believe you shop in Marathon.”

  “Okay, so we’re going to dinner and a movie.”

  “Dinner’s okay, but no time for a movi
e if we plan to work The Frangi tomorrow night.”

  “Maybe you should make the call, Threnody, if you think I’ll say the wrong thing.”

  “No thanks. That one’s all yours. Talk to you later. We need to fine-tune our departure plans.”

  “I’ll drive,” I said.

  “Good deal. That way Brick can’t check on our mileage.”

  “He does that?”

  Threnody shrugged. “Only when I take the car out of town.”

  I didn’t comment. But I was learning more about Threnody’s life than I cared to know. She and I were becoming friends and I wondered why Brick felt a need to check her car’s mileage? Didn’t she resent that? My protective feelings toward her surprised me.

  Chapter 30

  The evening passed uneventfully. After Kane and Brick extinguished the torches ringing the dance floor, Kane made arrangements with Mama G to make sandwiches for our fishing trip the next day.

  “Lobster sandwiches, please. None of your aunt’s weir—er—unusual recipes, okay? How about minced lobster with a touch of capers?”

  “Be okay with me,” Mama G said, but her elaborate shrug showed her disapproval of his choice.

  “And how about a couple pieces of Key lime pie? You do make pies, don’t you?”

  “It be very late to be making pies tonight. But for you, I do it.”

  “Thanks, Mama G. You’re a doll.”

  “Humph!” Mama G replied. “You no need doll. You need a wife. A wife who cook.”

  “Wish you’d speak to Rafa about that. Maybe I can convince her while we’re on the water tomorrow.”

  “Lucky you,” Dolly said with a sigh as she looked at me. “I’d like to spend a day on the water.”

  “Didn’t know you liked to fish,” I said.

  “I don’t. But what a chance to be alone with the sea and the sky and to let the elements inspire me to write poems. Maybe poems so unique, so deep, that someone would publish them.”

  “Maybe someday I’ll take you out in the Bail Bond, Dolly.”

  “And maybe I’ll agree to go with you if you’d promise to write a column about me as a Key West poet.”

  “A poet who sells her creations for a dime apiece?” Kane laughed.

  “Laugh all you want,” Dolly turned her back and headed for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Someday I’ll be famous. Someday.”

  Kane grinned at Dolly’s back before he walked me to my suite. I was tempted to invite him to stay the night, because I loved him, because I welcomed his nearness, and also because I welcomed the protection and comfort his being near me would offer. But no. It was past midnight and I knew he’d have to rise before dawn in order to get The Buccaneer ready for our outing.

  Before seven on Wednesday morning, I talked with an officer at the police station. She made note of Threnody and me leaving the island later in the afternoon, and returning before The Frangi opened that night. She made no objection to our plans and that was that. No questions. No problems.

  After a quick breakfast of oatmeal, orange juice, and a precautionary Dramamine pill, I dressed for the day. Layers. DKNY swimsuit first in case the day grew hot and we decided to swim. Tank top with shorts over the swimsuit. Crew neck over the tank. A Banana Republic hoodie on top of the other shirts, then matching ankle-length fleece pants.

  Regardless of the hokey look, I tugged on a pair of purple ankle socks before I shoved my feet into purple beach Crocs. I could already imagine Kane laughing. But I dressed from experience. Nothing worse than feeling chilled in the early morning hours of a fishing trip. Easy to remove layers when the sun began bearing down. Easy to pull off socks.

  I’d started to leave my suite, then I turned back and stuffed the snip of blue line Chief Ramsey had given me into the pocket of my hoodie. Maybe Kane was right. Or maybe the two lines weren’t a true match. And maybe I’d have a chance this morning to take another look at the under-mattress compartment on The Buccaneer.

  After stopping at my storage locker in the hotel basement, I grabbed my spinning rod and reel and thrust them into the back seat of the Prius. Little traffic this early. Few tourists out and about. I had no trouble finding a parking place near Kane’s dock. A light on-shore breeze left the bay waters millpond smooth, but the stillness increased the ever-present fishy stench that wafted about the dock. I could understand why the commissioners persuaded others to vote to close the working waters to the shrimp fleet. But I never mentioned that to Kane.

  Grey gulls rose from their perches on the security line bordering the catwalk, screaming protests when I disturbed them by hurrying along the swaying planks toward The Buccaneer. Kane stood waiting, wearing only faded swim trunks and deck shoes. My mind whispered ‘Brrrr.’ I didn’t give voice to the mental comment.

  “Yo!” Kane shouted a greeting before offering a hand to steady me while I stepped over the gunwale, making no comment about my socks in Crocs. We exchanged brief kisses that might have merged into something more interesting had a nearby captain not sounded a toot on his boat horn. When we stepped apart, I noted the compact pile of gear behind Kane in the wheel house.

  “Wonderful morning, Kane.” I clamped my teeth together to stop their chattering.

  “Got everything we need. Fuel. Bait—both shrimp and ballyhoo. Sun screen. Water. Sodas. Lunch. You still like lobster sandwiches?”

  “My favorite.” I hoped the Dramamine would kick in before lunch time.

  “Mama G delivered them and the Key Lime pie before seven. That woman’s something else.”

  The motor throbbed smoothly as Kane executed a no-wake exit from the bay and then headed for the blue water west of Key West.

  “Thought we’d try trolling on our way to the reef.”

  “Fine with me.” Sometimes I white-lie a little. I consider trolling a silly hit-or-miss way of fishing, believing that trollers enjoy a day on the sea more than they enjoy serious fishing. And even if I manage to snag a fish while trolling, it’s unlikely I can boat it before some larger shark or ’cuda sees it as breakfast and zeroes in on it, leaving me to reel in a dangling fish head. Ugh! Shades of Hemingway’s Santiago.

  I preferred backwater fishing—casting to a target, a permit or a bonefish. Even a ’cuda. Gram taught me to cast years ago, but I knew Kane couldn’t safely take this boat into the back country. We’d go aground in the shallows.

  We were barely out of sight of Key West when the steady hum of the motor changed from a purrr, purrr, purrr to a brrr-thump-thump. Brrr-thump-thump. Little wisps of smoke began rising from the motor and I smelled burning oil. Scowling, Kane stopped the boat’s forward motion, reversed it. The same no-purr sound repeated itself. Brrr-thump-thump. Brrr-thump-thump. The wisps of smoke disappeared, but the burning oil smell increased. I moved until I stood upwind of it.

  Kane cut the motor and radioed to a captain at Harbor walk dock that we were in trouble, giving our position, but requesting no help—yet. I knew how much having to report a possible need for help wounded Kane’s ego. But the wound was too shallow to put our safety in danger.

  “Drat it, Rafa. I had that motor working smooth as my wrist watch yesterday. What the hell!” He opened a gigantic tool box, dragged it to the motor, and began clang-banging with pliers and wrenches. “Don’t be scared. I’ll get it running smoothly again. We’re in no danger. We’ll be on our way in a few minutes.”

  “I’m not scared, Kane. You know your way around boats and motors. Take your time.”

  I believed Kane. Being stranded for a while didn’t scare me. If he didn’t get his motor working, he knew plenty of tow services in Key West that would rescue us. My chief worry concerned yesterday’s threatening phone call. I felt safe here at sea with only a balky motor to give trouble. My second worry concerned getting back to the dock in time for Threnody and me to make it to our appointment with Snipe Gross.

  “Anything I can do to help? Hold a wrench for you? A pair of pliers?”

  “Thanks, but I can handle it. Try to
relax and enjoy the view. It should take me only a few minutes to get us going again.”

  Sensing that my peering over his shoulder might be bothering him, I retreated toward the bow. I watched Kane for only a few minutes longer before I saw this as my opportunity to take another look-see in the bunkhouse. While he worked deftly in greasy motor parts, I slipped to the bunk beds, raised the mattress on a lower bunk. No blue line. Sand-colored line. Maybe I picked the wrong bunk. Lifting the mattress on the other bunk, I saw the same thing. New line held that compartment lid in its slot, too.

  Dropping the mattress back into place, my mind whirled when I walked on to the bow to think. Had Kane heeded my warning and changed the line to protect himself in case Chief Ramsey or Detective Lyon ordered a thorough search of the boat? Or had he changed the line to cover his own guilt in Diego’s murder?

  Maybe I’d played right into a killer’s hands by agreeing to this day on the water—alone with Kane. But no. I tried to reason that fear from my thinking. Lots of people knew Kane and I planned to be out trolling in nearby waters today. Threnody. Brick. Dolly. They’d heard us making plans. Mama G had delivered sandwiches to Kane this morning. And just a few minutes ago, Kane had radioed our position to potential helpers. I felt ashamed of myself for having suspected him.

  Kane wouldn’t have told anyone our exact position if he planned to kill me. I tried to believe that. But what if I fell overboard? What if I had an accident? A fatal accident?

  Chapter 31

  Kane worked with the motor for over an hour with no success before he threw the wrench and pliers into the toolbox, cut the motor, and radioed for help, giving Sol Salvors our exact position and the exact time. Static garbled the response, and Kane shouted our plight and position again.

  “They’ll be here, Rafa. They’re dependable. I’ve used their service before.”

  He felt more sure of their having heard our message than I did. If we couldn’t understand their response, how could we believe they had heard us? I corked my concern as Kane grabbed his tools again and started working on the motor.