“Is he dead?” the chief asked the medical examiner.
“Yes,” the M.E. replied.
“Cause of death?” Ramsey asked.
“Can’t determine that at this point, Sir. Need an autopsy.”
“Okay. Okay.” Ramsey said. “See any bullet wounds?”
The M.E. didn’t replay. And they still hadn’t seen Threnody’s body in the sea behind them. In the next few minutes photographers arrived, and cops with crime scene tape tried to cordon off the area of the unexplained death.
“May I take Rafa to my truck?” Kane asked the chief.
“Yes. But don’t leave the scene.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With Kane leading the way, he and I and the lawyer who’d he introduced as Attorney Albury walked to the truck. I felt the catwalk swaying from the weight and movement of so many people on it. Gripping the security line I struggled to keep my balance.
When we reached Kane’s truck, he reached into the truck bed and pulled out a yellow slicker that reeked of shrimp and mildew. Without protest, I let him help me into it. I snapped it on over my sleep shirt before we climbed onto the truck seat and he again introduced me to Attorney Albury.
“Miss Blue,” Attorney Albury said. “Can you tell us what happened here tonight?”
I looked at Kane for his go-ahead, and after he nodded, I related the whole story. They listened without interrupting
“Then, you didn’t shoot him?” Albury asked. “I need to be quite clear about that and I need to know you’re telling me the truth.”
“I’m telling the truth. Every word of it.”
We sat in the truck a long time. More cops arrived, spinning their patrol car wheels in the graveled driveway as they hurried to turn onlookers away from the marina. At last, the M.E. approached us, looking directly at me.
“In my opinion, a blow to the temple downed Mr. Vexton. But only an autopsy will tell us for sure”
Chief Ramsey, who had been following at the medical examiner’s heels, stepped forward. “Miss Blue, did you observe Mr. Vexton receive a blow to his head?”
“My client prefers not to answer this question at this time,” attorney Albury said. “She’s taking the fifth amendment.”
I wanted to protest. I felt that taking the fifth amendment equated admitting guilt. But the chief allowed nobody to question me further at that time. Admitting guilt? Me? A murderess?
Chapter 44
Both my father and Kane had put their trust in Albury Attorneys at Law in Key West, and I don’t know why I doubted Attorney Albury’s order to take the fifth amendment. I soon learned it was the right thing to do. By ordering me to say nothing upon first questioning, and later to answer no questions from reporters, he steered me in the right direction. Although my name later made headlines in connection with the murders of Threnody and Brick Vexton, I tried to tolerate them with good grace.
Of course, nobody could, or would want to, squelch the news media entirely. People have a right to know what’s going on in their world. Many human interest stories about the Vexton deaths appeared in The Citizen, The Keynoter, and even The Miami Herald. Due to Albury’s adept legal counsel on my behalf, the courts accepted the fact that I acted in self-defense when I cast my fishing lure at Brick Vexton—the blow to his temple that took his life, but spared mine.
Someday I’d learn to live with the knowledge that I’d killed another human being. Later. Not today. Nor tomorrow. Someday. Maybe.
We closed The Frangi for a few days out of respect for Threnody, Pablo, and Diego—and even Brick, regardless of his misguided actions.
During one of our nights off, Kane took me to a special dinner at Pier House. I asked him to go for a drive with me afterward.
“Where to?”
“That’s my secret—at least for a while. Are you willing or will I be forced to kidnap you?”
“No force needed.”
So on this moonlit night, I drove up the Keys to Big Pine. I turned left onto Ship’s Way and we passed several avenues, each one named for a famous American battleship. We turned left again when I reached the avenue where my grandmother lived—Independence. After easing to the end of her street that stopped a few yards short of the huge boulders that prevented drivers from dropping off into the Gulf of Mexico, I braked the car.
“Why are you stopping in Pine Channel Estates?” Kane asked. “I remember headlines a few years ago. Headlines about a serial killer who lived in this area. Creepy stuff.”
“That guy’s dead now. Shot himself.”
“Good riddance. But something like that could happen again. County needs to put up some pole lights on these streets. They’re dark as pits.”
“Except for the moonlight. I love the moonlight.” I turned into a private drive and cut the headlights.
“Taking up trespassing, Rafa?”
“No trespassing. This is where I spent two years of my life, Kane. Not in this ground-level cottage, however, but here on Big Pine. Gram’s moved here from the other side of the island—the woods, as she called the location of her old stilt home. She’s up north visiting friends for a week, but she’s given me all-time permission to use her cottage whenever I care to. I’d like you to see it tonight. Will you come in with me?”
“Of course. Lead the way.”
When we left the car, I took Kane’s hand and led him toward the cottage door. Moonlight lit our way across the pea-graveled lawn, past a grapefruit tree, an orange tree, and lengths of croton hedge on either side of the entry.
“Where does she go during hurricanes? All the other houses are built on high pilings.”
“This is an older home, built before the eight-foot height level became a law, but the house is a CBS structure—concrete, block and stucco. Gram takes her chances—doesn’t even carry insurance.” I fitted the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the front door. Once we stepped inside, a tiny night light illumined a large oil painting of two pelicans perched on a group of four dock pilings. On the wall to our right, a smaller painting of two parrots almost seemed to call out a greeting to us. By the light of the moon shining through a wide sliding glass door, we walked through Gram’s office where a white wicker screen set her computer desk and files off from the tiny living room. There, casual furniture covered in Florida floral prints invited guests to linger.
“How about some lights?” Kane asked. “Don’t want to stumble and damage something.”
“Just follow me.” I took his hand and pulled him along behind me through a small dining room and onto a screened porch. “Here is the reason Gram bought this house—this wonderful porch. She sits here reading, writing, or playing bridge with friends while they watch boats navigate their way up and down the canal. Have a chair.”
Kane sat in the chair I offered. “No light but moonlight needed out here.”
“Right. I love the silvery glow on the canal waters. Gram swims here almost every day—winter or summer. It’s one of the many things about her new home that she heartily approves of.”
“No scary things in the water?”
“I’ve never seen any—except once. We both saw a large barracuda. The neighbors said it was harmless, a pet. No sharks roam here during daylight hours. They feed at night.”
“Iguanas?”
“We see them in the water now and then. They swim, you know. Harmless. When I’ve asked Gram to move into our hotel, she begs for reasons as to why she should leave this paradise for the noise and commotion of Key West. I have no reasons to offer. This is her personal Garden of Eden and I come to visit now and then.”
“Why tonight? Why when she’s away from home?”
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
“Okay. Have it your way. Be a lady of mystery. What’s your question?”
I pulled Kane into the bright moonlight and looked into his eyes. Standing on tiptoe, I kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Kane, will you marry me?”
Startled for only
a moment, Kane regained his composure when he turned my light caress into a more probing kiss. When we broke to breathe, he nuzzled his lips along my neck.
“Rafa! I’ve asked you dozens of time to marry me only to hear you say no. I never thought of you asking me.”
“I couldn’t ask you until you knew the worst about me and my past, my past that haunted me right into my future—until a few days ago. Can you accept me as your wife?”
“Yes. With all my heart, yes! When can we tell all our friends at The Frangi?”
“Tomorrow night on one condition.”
“Okay. What condition?”
“That I ask Dolly to write a poem to commemorate the event and that I ask her to become a published poet by filling my column space with her poetry for one week this month.”
Kane hid his groan behind a smile. “Your wish is my command.”
We stayed until dawn, enjoying the moonlight, the breeze, the water, and I knew this special night was another thing Gram would have approved of.
Daiquiri Dock Murder Page 25