Pier Pressure

by Dorothy Francis

  “Maybe they were in it together.”

  “Sometimes I think I can sense Shandy following me.”

  “Big imagination, Keely. Big imagination.”

  “I’m not convinced it’s my imagination. I know how it feels to be followed and spied upon, but I thought that feeling would disappear once Jude…”

  “We don’t have enough evidence to pinpoint Shandy’s guilt.”

  “Why would she give me a false alibi if she didn’t have something to hide?”

  Punt pulled me closer. “She could have lots of reasons. We’ll have to find out what they are before we point a finger of guilt at her. What about Otto? Only presidents can get by with the ‘can’t remember’ line.”

  “Shandy’s scar,” I said, trying to pull the conversation back to Shandy. “I remember that scar.”

  “The scar only you and Mr. Moore have noticed. Nikko and I haven’t seen it—and believe me we’ve been looking carefully ever since you mentioned it.”

  I let my head rest on Punt’s shoulder before I spoke again. “There’s another thing to consider. You may say I’ve been reading too many mystery novels, but I’ve read that a person choosing an alias frequently selects a name with the same initials as his real name.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Mr. Moore said the bank robber’s name is Sally Mitchell. Shandy’s name was Mertz before she married Otto. Shandy Mertz. Sally Mitchell. It fits.”

  Punt didn’t laugh this time. “That’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “I say it’s more than a coincidence. The more I think about it, the more Shandy scares me. A person who kills once…”

  “I know, I know.” Punt kissed me lightly on the forehead. “Don’t remind me. Maybe we do have strong reason to suspect Shandy.”

  “And another thing…”

  “How many more another things can you come up with?”

  “This one may upset you, Punt. I didn’t mean to go behind your back—or Nikko’s, but I couldn’t resist trying to telephone Mr. Moore. I promised him. I promised him a call if I noticed anything suspicious about Shandy. I did notice something and I did call.”

  “What’d he say? Will he fly back down here and check her out—maybe bring his hometown investigators with him?”

  “We’ve been too distracted by Margaux’s death to notice national news broadcasts—especially on the weather channel. I couldn’t get in touch with Mr. Moore because a blizzard’s howling in North Dakota. All phone lines are down and no calls are going through. At least that was true this afternoon.”

  “So let’s try again. Got his number handy?”

  “No. We’ll have to dial directory assistance.” It irritated me that I didn’t have Mr. Moore’s phone number at hand, but it pleased me that Punt now wanted to call him, to talk to him. When we had his phone number, Punt dialed and we waited.

  At last the operator responded. “Sorry. Phone lines in both South and North Dakota are down.”

  “Any chance of them opening up any time soon?” Punt asked.

  “Sorry, but I haven’t got that information to give out officially,” the operator said, “but I do have relatives in North Dakota and I hear there’s a slight possibility of the lines being open late today or tomorrow.”

  “Guess we’ll just have to watch the weather channel,” Punt said. “Thanks for the info.”

  We settled back into a loose embrace on the sofa. “So that’s that as far as calling Mr. Moore’s concerned.” We sat quietly for sometime before Punt spoke again.

  “Keely, think carefully. Think back to that terrible Sunday morning when you found Margaux’s body. Do you remember anything, any small thing, you haven’t told me or the police about? Your mind must have been in a whirl, but think back to that morning. Try to forget about Margaux and think about details.”

  I rose and began to pace the room as I thought back to that day. At last I shook my head and I’d started to say no when I glanced again at Punt’s dinner table. We’d cleared away all the dishes except the centerpiece, the crystal bowl holding the hibiscus blossom. In that moment I remembered, remembered something that might be important. Or it might be nothing.

  “What is it? I can see in your eyes that you’ve recalled something.”

  “Yes, but…” At first I hesitated, then the words came tumbling out. “That Sunday morning I was running late. As I hurried up the steps to Margaux’s door, I noticed a hibiscus blossom lying on the top step. I love flowers and I hated to see the blossom lying where it might be destroyed by a footstep, so I picked it up and tucked it into a buttonhole of my jumpsuit.”

  “What color blossom?” Punt stood facing me, his eyes boring into mine. “What color?”

  “A lavender blossom. Lavender hibiscus.”

  “Dad had no lavender plants at that time. Jass’s hibiscus experiment was still top secret—a secret from everyone except the judges at the Miami show.”

  “A secret between Jass and Shandy. They were the only two people who had access to Jass’s greenhouse, and Jass has an alibi for Saturday night. Punt, Shandy dropped that blossom on the porch.”

  “Hmmm.” Punt turned and walked to the window. “Hmmm.”

  “I know it, Punt. I know it. In Shandy’s haste to leave the murder scene, the blossom fell unnoticed. Maybe she’d been wearing it in her hair. She does that sometimes—wears a blossom. She could have tucked that blossom into her hair as she helped Jass prepare plants for the show—tucked it in and forgotten about it. Shandy visited Margaux’s home on Saturday night.”

  “We can’t prove that,” Punt said. “We know someone came there and that someone dropped a lavender blossom. Beau had no lavender plants in his yard or his house, but we can’t say Shandy visited Beau’s house on Saturday night, that Shandy dropped the blossom. We’ve only circumstantial evidence. We’ve no witness who actually saw it happen.”

  “Aren’t cases sometimes brought to court and killers found guilty on the strength of circumstantial evidence?”

  “Sometimes. I suppose it’s possible in Florida. Do you still have that blossom? Or did you toss it?”

  “You know my housekeeping reputation. I think the blossom’s still there. On Sunday morning Curry came to my office—unexpected. I tried to neaten my desk in a hurry, and I removed a withered red blossom from a crystal dish, exchanging it for the blossom I’d picked up at Margaux’s. Today I set the plant you gave me on my desk and I carried the blossom dish to the kitchen. I intended to drop it into the wastebasket, but just then someone came to my door.”

  “Then that lavender blossom has to be in your kitchen.” Punt grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the door. “We have to get that blossom before…”

  My stomach lurched. “…before Shandy remembers seeing it on my desk when she came in for her foot treatment on Tuesday. If she remembers the blossom, she’ll wonder where it came from since I had no access to Jass’s plants at that time. Then she may remember she wore it on Saturday night, that she lost it. Punt, we have to find that blossom.”

  “Right.” Now Punt followed me as I raced down the steps and to his car. “Please don’t get your hopes up too high. Hibiscus blossoms are fragile. On the plant they may last several days, but picked and placed in water they may last only a day or two. Seldom more.”

  “Even after they wilt, you can identify color—in this case, their special color.”

  Punt parked behind my office and we entered quietly before I snapped on the overhead light. It was past eleven and I hoped Gram would he in bed with her ear plugs in place. I headed straight for the kitchen. Yes. The blossom lay in the dish on the countertop near the sink. I snapped on another lamp and placed the dish directly under it.

  “It’s a lavender all right,” Punt agreed. “It’s withered, but the petals are still wide and there’s no mistaking the special color.”

  “So now we know Shandy’s the killer.”

  “We know,” Punt agreed, “but
we still have no way of proving it to the police. Besides that, the police really hate accepting help or ideas from private investigators.”

  Thirty-Four

  “DO YOU HAVE an envelope, Keely? I want to take this blossom to my office and put it in my safe.”

  I brought an envelope from my desk and Punt carefully placed the blossom inside it and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

  “Keely, what was it you wanted to do before you face the police tomorrow?”

  “I need to go back to Beau’s home again. Should we call him first? I don’t want to bother him, but I hate barging in unannounced.”

  “Going to reveal the nature of this mission?”

  “Not yet. Humor me, okay?”

  Punt used my desk phone to dial Beau’s number and I heard the phone ringing. After six rings, he replaced the receiver. “Nobody home. Or maybe he’s not answering.”

  “He does that sometimes? Ignores the ring?” I couldn’t imagine anyone with such a lack of curiosity. When my phone rings, it’s like a command performance. I rush to answer.

  Punt nodded. “Beau’s always said that telephones are for his convenience, not his inconvenience.”

  “He doesn’t have an answering machine?”

  “No—says if it’s important the caller will call back. Sometimes if he’s writing, or trying to sleep, he turns the phone off. I think his column’s due tomorrow. He may be home writing. Or he may be out for the evening.”

  “I need to go there now. We don’t need to bother him. Don’t need to go inside, but I need to check one more important thing. Probably another circumstantial evidence thing, but if we come up with enough of them, maybe they’ll catch Shandy in their web.”

  “Okay. We’ll go there, but first let’s put this blossom in the agency safe.”

  We drove down the alley to Whitehead Street and then along narrow streets until we reached Fotopoulos & Ashford. Vandals had broken the street light and total darkness surrounded the parking slots.

  “Be back in a sec, Keely.”

  “No way am I waiting here alone.” I slid from the car.

  “Shandy really has you spooked, right?” Punt took my hand. “Or are you making excuses for more togetherness?”

  “Maybe both. You got a problem with that?”

  “No problem. No problem at all. You don’t have to make excuses for togetherness. I’d like it to be our way of life.”

  When Punt locked his car, I knew he felt as uneasy as I did in the blackness surrounding us. Keeping a firm grip on his hand, I followed him as we made our way across the broken concrete sidewalk to his door.

  I screamed as I sensed a movement at our feet and heard a guttural voice muttering unintelligible words. Punt jumped hack, pulling me with him, and I felt a bone-crushing tension in his hand before he relaxed.

  “Okay. buddy. Move on. Now. Move on.”

  My eyes were growing used to the darkness, and I could make out a long-haired and shaggy-whiskered man huddled in the doorway. He managed to haul himself to his feet, sending the odor of stale beer into the air.

  “Who are you?” He looked at us through bleary eyes. “Getting so a guy can’t get no sleep anymore. Gonna report you to the cops. Disturbin’ the peace.”

  “You do that, buddy. Let me know what they say.”

  We waited while the drunk stumbled off into the night. Punt fumbled with his keys for a few seconds before he managed to unlock the door and turn on the lights.

  I squinted into the sudden brightness, realizing immediately that the light made us targets for anyone who might be watching. Shandy? Did Shandy ever skulk around this area? I felt someone watching us, or maybe it was my imagination.

  “This place scares the bejabbers out of me at night, Punt.”

  “I’ll call City Electric about getting that street light fixed tomorrow.”

  Punt hurried to the safe, turned the knob until the door opened, then laid the blossom in the safe’s green interior and relocked the door.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “This’ll be a safer place once Nikko and Moose move in.”

  I agreed. We returned to the car and drove back to the bright lights of Duval Street.

  “I’ll give Dad another ring.” Punt keyed in Beau’s number, but the ringing went unanswered. “Well, we’ll drive there anyway. How long will your mission take once we get there?”

  “A very few minutes. A few important minutes.”

  We drove to Grinnell, parked in front of the house, and hurried to the porch. Although no car sat in the carport, Punt knocked on the door to announce our presence. No answer. I knocked again to make sure nobody was home.

  “Now what?” Punt asked.

  I turned and stood at the top of the porch steps. “Stand here beside me and look toward Ashford Mansion, the widow’s walk. From this cattycorner angle, I see five white lights on one side and five on the other side—one of them being green.”

  “Right,” Punt said. “That’s what Shandy said she saw last Saturday night.”

  “Only she said she saw the lights from the pier. Here’s where she saw them. Right here—after she shot Margaux and had started to leave the porch. You know Shandy’s compulsion for counting. Even after killing another human being, she couldn’t help taking time to count the widow’s walk lights, to notice that one of them glowed green.”

  “I believe your theory.” Punt squeezed my hand. “Again, it’s circumstantial evidence. We have no witnesses.”

  Just then Beau pulled into the carport and a moment later joined us on the porch. “What’s up, people? Anything I can help you with?”

  Beau invited us inside and again he avoided the sitting room and led us to his study. We sat around his desk while he listened to our story, nodding at appropriate moments, shaking his head at others.

  “I think your theories are right, Keely,” Beau said. “I believe Shandy’s the killer.” For a moment he rested his head in his hands, then he looked up, and when he spoke again, his voice seemed to come from a great distance and through a heavy veil of weariness. “As you realize, you/we have no witnesses to prove a case against her.”

  “So what do we do now?” Punt asked.

  “You’re the detective,” Beau said. “Maybe you and Nikko need to talk. Sometimes four heads are better than three. Nikko may have some good ideas.”

  “I wish you and Nikko would be with me when I face Detective Curry’s questions tomorrow, Punt,” I said.

  “That might be unwise,” Punt said. “The police hate to accept P.I. help. They’d see our presence as interference.”

  “Maybe you need a lawyer,” Beau said. “I could get someone from Hubble & Hubble to represent you.”

  “At one time Detective Curry said his questions were informal, that unless they placed me under arrest, I didn’t need a lawyer. Maybe if I appeared with a lawyer, Curry would see it as an admission of guilt.”

  “I don’t know,” Beau said, “but if Curry should place you under arrest, don’t say another word. From that time on, you can bet the police are trying to trip you up, to make you say something incriminating. That’s the time to call me, or better yet, call Hubble & Hubble and ask them to send someone to represent you. I’ll phone Harley first thing in the morning and alert him to the possibility of a summons from you.”

  Beau’s words helped ease my fears. I didn’t want to dial his number only to find I’d chosen a time when he’d turned his phone off.

  “Thanks, Beau. I really appreciate your concern. It gives me confidence to know I have your backing.”

  “We’d better be going, Dad. I’m glad you’re on our side and sorry we don’t have some witnesses to back up our suspicions.”

  “Maybe Shandy’ll do or say something that’ll tip her hand,” Beau said.

  “I’m not counting on it,” Punt said. “But Nikko and I’ll keep her under surveillance starting tonight. We’ll take turns. We’ll know every move she makes, every place she goes. We’ll be on her like
paint on a wall. I wish we could get permission to tap her phone.”

  “I’m fairly sure that’s illegal,” Beau said, “but maybe with just cause it might be possible. Want me to check with Hubble?”

  Punt nodded. “Sure. See what he says. Right now, I need to get Keely home, need to talk to Nikko and put a surveillance plan in motion.”

  I sensed an urgency in the way Punt drove to Duval Street and pulled up in front of my office. I made no motion to open the car door or to get out and neither did he. He leaned toward me, taking my hand in both of his.

  “This isn’t the way I wanted our evening to end, Keely. I dreamed of a quiet, undisturbed time at my place. Key lime pie. Coffee. Soft music. And you in my arms—and maybe in my bed.”

  “Me and a piece of key lime pie?”

  “Don’t make jokes. I’m very serious. I lost you once and I don’t want that to happen again.”

  “I’m not making jokes. I’m sorry Shandy’s intruded in our lives. She’s a killer. We can’t really enjoy ourselves until she’s been brought to justice.”

  “I like what you’re saying.”

  “About bringing Shandy to justice? Well, I should hope so.”

  “My thinking goes beyond Shandy. I like the part about us enjoying ourselves. I like hearing those words from your lips. Once this case is behind us, I wish we could start a new relationship from square one. We do have a relationship, Keely, a tentative relationship, perhaps, but definitely a relationship.”

  “Yes, we do have a relationship of sorts—maybe one based more on business than pleasure.”

  “So my next step will be to get it based more on pleasure than on business. That’s my goal.”

  “I don’t know. We’re different people now than we were at square one. Very different. We’re both carrying a lot of excess baggage involving a horror of a marriage for me, drug and alcohol addiction for you. We’ve both been through bad times that’ll be hard to forget.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t try to forget.” Punt tightened his grip on my hand. “Maybe we should put all our baggage right out front, look at it carefully, and try to learn from it as we move on. We’ve both changed. We’ve known good times. We’ve known bad times. Maybe we’re back to facing good times again.”