I shivered. “That’s an awful way of putting it.”
“How many times have we heard lately that the Gulf is not a swimming pool? Sharks have no natural predators. They breed like crazy, eat ferociously and should be pissed with us humans who’ve been draining their food supply.”
“Sharks are too stupid to be pissed, Vic, but hey, come on, let’s talk about a more pleasant topic. Sharks give me the willies. I’d rather talk about you and how you found your way to Dolphin via Aspen.”
“You might say I took to the slopes. Everything else has been downhill.”
I groaned. “Terrible.”
Waitress Leronica refilled our coffee cups, leaning over the table, showing off her bountiful breast, all but the nipples. She wore black tights and a white halter top. “You sure I can’t get you anything, hon?” she asked Victor.
Victor’s eyes gave Leronica the once over. “I’m fine. What about you, Maeva?”
I shook my head no.
Leronica twisted her petite butt around, her smiling face and fluttering eyelids, turning last. “She likes you,” I said.
“Too young.”
I spooned honey in the coffee Veronica had poured, though I knew I didn’t need caffeine. “Okay, where were we? Oh, yes, we were talking about Aspen. How’d you get to Colorado from Salt Lake? My inquiring mind wants to know.” I laughed.
“I hitchhiked to Denver, lived there for a year in a Catholic Orphanage.”
“You went from being a Mormon to Catholic?”
“Not really. The orphanage took me in. I was sixteen, living on the streets. They gave me food, shelter and religious indoctrination.”
“I guess that comes with the territory, but it had to be traumatic for you.” “I was accustomed to indoctrination, coming from a Mormon background.”
Did you like the Catholicism better?”
“I might have if not for the pedophile priest who took a shine to me.” “You’re kidding,” I said. Victor’s face told me he wasn’t.
“Oh, no, you’re not.”
He drew a breath. “I wouldn’t kid about that.”
“Amazing you turned out so well.”
Rather than respond, Victor fished in his wallet for cash and threw down a five for Leronica.
I tried to take the ticket from him. “You invited me to the gym. I invited you to breakfast, remember?”
“No, this is my treat today. Ready?”
I cut off another piece of my pancake.
“You’re not finished yet, are you? Sorry.” Victor glanced at his watch while tapping his fingers on the table, as if he were pressed for time.
I changed my mind about asking Victor for a favor. “Don’t bother waiting on me, Vic. I know you’re under the gun.”
“I’ll wait a few more minutes. What about you? Where’re you headed?”
“Dolphin Elementary and I’m not looking forward to it.”
“I heard about that.” Victor rubbed the furrow from his brow. “The playground was made of tires. One of them almost killed a woman. Right?”
“Right and the principal is not a happy camper.”
“Serves him right. How stupid is that? I can’t believe the school board approved a playground, swings and all the recreational stuff, all tires. Can you?” Victor shook his head, registering his disgust. “It’s worse than shoddy, like a lot of the construction I’m seeing these days. How it gets approved, I haven’t a clue.”
“I agree.”
Victor seemed distracted, looking through the window at something outside while tapping his fingers on the table.
I stood. “I need to get going, too. I can’t be late for my appointment with Principal Rogers. I was supposed to see him yesterday, but had to reschedule after my stupid palm-tree incident.”
Victor frowned, and looked worried. “Hope you’re feeling better. Is there anything I can do for you?”
An opening, but I didn’t take it. “Thanks for offering, Vic, but you’ve already helped me enough.” My claims were my responsibility. I couldn’t pawn them off on Victor. At that point I almost decided Tara and Roxanne, Geneva and Sandra and even Onyx weren’t my responsibility.
All I could do was all I could do, not another thing. So why had I become Miss Buttinski with Geneva’s computer and cell phone? I didn’t know, but too late to turn back now, as the song goes, but that song was talking about falling in love. I couldn’t think about stuff like love when I was struggling to keep my nose above water.
I waved goodbye to Victor and grabbed the crystal around my neck. The stone overheated again, trying to tell me something, but I didn’t know what, though my gut told me to drive over to Huberta Huber’s before heading to Dolphin Elementary. I glanced at the dashboard clock and decided I had enough time.
I figured it would take me fifteen minutes without traffic and traffic was no problem. Most of the sane folks had evacuated.
Chapter Forty-one
I found the ex-nun in the front yard, picking up fallen tree twigs and throwing them in a green trashcan. “Is it okay if I go inside, check e-mail, and work on my computer a bit?” I asked.
“Absolutely. You are welcome, my dear.” Huberta smiled like Mona Lisa and the Virgin Mary. “We were concerned when you did not come back or call last evening.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was going to, but it got so late. I was on Paradise Isle, where there’s a curfew. Also, I had a dog with me. I didn’t feel right about bringing him here.”
“I see.” Huberta threw a limb in the trashcan. “That is fine. Paula tried to call you.”
“I know.”
“Did you say you have a dog? Paula did not mention you had a dog.” Huberta glanced inside my truck.
I grabbed my backpack with its heavy contents. “He’s not actually mine. It’s a long story. He ran out in front of my truck, and now I feel responsible for him. I’m trying to locate his owner. Until then, he’s staying in one of my units on Paradise Isle. I’ll go feed him and let him out later. I didn’t want to bring him over here without checking with you first.” I hopped down from my truck.
Huberta frowned. “I am allergic to dogs. Is it a big dog?”
“Fair size, black Labrador Retriever, name’s Onyx. He’s absolutely beautiful, not at all ferocious. I think you’d like him.”
“I am sorry, Maeva. He can not stay in my house. A house is not a place for a dog in my opinion, and as you can see, I do not have a fenced yard.” Huberta held her arms out, palms facing upward.
I smiled as if I understood and walked toward the side-entrance garage. “That’s okay. Right now I need to hurry and get to work. I have an appointment over at Dolphin Elementary School soon.”
“Yes, for sure, you are a busy lady. If you need something let me know. I will be out here cleaning my yard.”
“Thanks, Huberta, I appreciate your kindness.”
I rushed inside, walked back to the canary room where I turned on my computer and went on-line. I found another e-mail with an attachment from Jan Benson of Catastrophe Claims, Inc.
In reply, I wrote, “Jan, please give these claims to another adjustor until I can catch up. I have too much on my plate, more than I can say grace over. Also, I’ll be out-of touch for a few days. Wait to hear from me before sending new assignments. Thanks for your understanding.”
After I sent the e-mail to Jan, I felt proud of my assertiveness. I should say “No” more often. I then shut down my computer and opened Geneva’s laptop.
The moment I went on-line, an instant message flashed on the screen. “Geneva, is that you?”
From the e-mail address, I knew it was Ellen. Good. “Yes, I’m here,” I wrote.
“I hope you aren’t angry with me. I wanted to call you but I couldn’t. Your husband was hovering and very upset. The press hounded us all night. I called the first chance I got. Did you get my message?”
“No, my cell phone has been acting up,” I lied. “I’m unable to retrieve my messages. What did your message s
ay?”
“I’ll be riding down to Dolphin with your husband tomorrow for the funeral. I told him I wanted to visit a friend who lives down there. He thinks I will be returning to Tallahassee later.”
“Funeral?”
“You know, your friend Roxanne.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I told your husband I do not like funerals. He seemed to understand. I’ll take a cab to the place we’re going to meet.” I paused not knowing how to respond.
“Geneva, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m thinking of the best way for us to get together. I don’t want anyone to see me. I will have a friend pick you up. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“I won’t. I promise. How will I know your friend?”
“She’ll be at the funeral wearing turquoise clothing. She is five-one, has short carrot-red hair and will be driving a black Silverado truck with camper cover. I’ll tell her to park out front and leave the truck unlocked so you can hop inside. She told me she wants to pay her respects at the funeral. She won’t be long. She has an Alabama license plate with the letters CAT.”
“What is her name?”
“Maeva.”
“Got it.”
“Where is the funeral?”
“I’m not sure. You don’t know?”
“Not yet, but I’ll find out.”
“Your husband said we needed to be there in the morning around eleven.”
“Okay, don’t worry. This is what you need to do: Go on Mapquest, type in the address where you’re to meet me, print out the map and bring it with you.”
“You’ve already e-mailed me a map. Did you forget?” “Sorry, yes.”
“As you wish, I’ll print the map out and bring it with me. Are you okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry about me. I’ll explain everything later. See you tomorrow. Take care.”
“You take care, too.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw the door to the Canary Room open. I should have locked it.
Paula bounced in wearing a white ruffled mini-shirt with a pink and orange off-the-shoulder top, her ever-present binoculars hanging around her neck. “There you are,” Paula said. “You scared me to death last night. Where were you?”
I turned off Geneva’s computer. “I was on Paradise Isle.”
Paula frowned at the two laptops, as if they presented a problem she couldn’t solve. “Huberta said you’ve taken in a dog. Is that right?” “Yes, he’s a black lab. He ran out in front of my truck yesterday. I swerved to miss him and hit a palm tree. Nothing major, just a stupid accident.” I fished the bottled water out of my backpack to take two Tylenol. “The dog’s name is Onyx, according to his tag. I called the number on it but got an out-of-order signal.”
“I know Onyx,” Paula said. “He’s Arlene Brayer’s dog. I’m surprised...”
“What do you mean, surprised?”
“Arlene loves that dog to death. Her only companion, as far as I can tell. Another Gert Lorinstad, if you ask me.” “Pardon? I don’t follow.”
Paula laughed. “Gert was a good friend and colleague, a teacher I worked with in Atlanta. When Gert turned forty, a bunch of us broke into her basement to surprise her. Boy, was she surprised. And we were as surprised as Gert when we walked in and saw her in the nude with peanut butter between her legs and on her boobies, that damn dog of hers licking it off.”
“Image deleted,” I said. “What does that have to do with Onyx?”
“Oh, nothing, I was just being silly. Onyx’s owner, Arlene Brayer, is a big-time realtor, very attractive blond. Lives in a house on Flounder, a dump until Arlene got hold of it. She’s turned the place into a showcase. I’m sure you must have seen it, painted yellow and green. She said she was planning to flip it and sell it for three times what she paid.”
“Do you think she evacuated?”
Paula twisted her hair and pressed her lips together. “I can’t imagine she’d leave without Onyx. She adores that dog.” I glanced at the time on my cell phone. One of these days I’ll buy a decent watch. Mr. Rogers expected me in twenty minutes. “Have you talked to Keith?”
Paula exhaled a loud sigh. “Yes, but he’s so busy. He hasn’t found Sandra Eddelman yet. And nothing on Geneva, either. The medical examiner hasn’t sent his report back on Roxanne Trawler. Are you going to her funeral, Maeva?”
“Yes, but I can’t stay.”
“You’re welcome to ride with me.”
“Thanks, but I’ll need my truck for later. Can I follow you over there? I’m not sure where it is or what time.”
“Eleven a.m. at the First Methodist, I think. That’s where her parents go.”
I placed both laptops into my backpack. “I’ll meet you here if I decide to follow you. Right now, I have to go. Call you later about my plans. I have Onyx at my place. So, I don’t know about tonight.”
“Huberta’s afraid of dogs.”
“I figured, though she said she’s allergic to them. This is her house. She’s entitled.”
“I’ll drive by Arlene’s today and see what’s up.”
I wondered why Paula didn’t have a problem getting on Paradise Isle. I figured Keith had somehow used his influence to get her in and out, or maybe Paula used her considerable charm with the guards.
“Could I ask you another favor, Paula?”
“Sure, what?”
“May I borrow your binoculars, just for a day or two?”
Paula pulled the binoculars from around her neck and handed them to me. “No problem. I have another pair. Call me later. Whatever you do, don’t get caught on Paradise Isle again tonight. It’s not safe anymore.”
Chapter Forty-two
Massaging my headache from hell, I tried to wrap up the meeting with Principal Rogers. No matter what I said, he disagreed. Then he asked for legal advice.
“I’m not a lawyer,” I said.
“I don’t think anyone can prove for a fact that a tire from our playground hit that woman and knocked her unconscious, do you?” Rogers asked.
“I’m not a lawyer,” I repeated.
The school’s attorney, Alice Macon, was on her honeymoon in Europe. He needed to arrange a meeting with the three of us, he said as he followed me to my truck.
“That’s fine, Mr. Rogers, but for now, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my next appointment.”
After I escaped Principal Rogers, it took me almost an hour on a no-traffic day to drive to Baker Town—way out in the boonies—for my appointment at the Crawleys’ residence. When I arrived, I found an elderly woman, Mrs. Crawley, wandering around her flooded front yard, crying. Her husband sat like a statue in a rocking chair on the front porch.
“He’s had another stroke, I just know it,” Mrs. Crawley said. “And my cell phone is dead with no power to charge it.”
I checked Mr. Crawley’s pulse; then called 911. “Your husband is alive.”
“Do you think the winds from the hurricane made him like this?” Mrs. Crawley asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor,” I said.
Soon paramedics arrived in a red-and-white van with sirens blazing. They hooked IVs to Mr. Crawley and loaded him on a stretcher while I waded through the Crawley’s one-story house, listing the damage.
“You have insurance to cover this, so don’t worry,” I told Mrs. Crawley, though I was amazed she and her husband were still alive when I saw the damage to their home. An oak tree had collapsed the roof. Their barn— containing their demolished Ford Crown Victoria—looked like a pile of lumber. The floodwater inside their small, two-bedroom home measured two-feet deep, an electrocution waiting to happen once the power came back on. Mud and debris covered the outside heating and cooling unit. Their well water looked contaminated with waste from the septic system.
After I noted the destruction, I asked Mrs. Crawley, “May I call someone for you?”
“My son Tommy lives in Marianna,” she said from the back of the ambulance where she’d climbed up
to be with her husband.
I handed the cell phone to Mrs. Crawley.
She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, took a breath, looked at the phone and punched in a number. Tommy must have answered, because she said, “I think your daddy’s had a stroke. We’re going to the hospital...North Okaloosa Med Center...in an ambulance...” Mrs. Crawley trembled and appeared almost as feeble as her husband. “The insurance lady is here...I’m using her cell phone...Our home’s a wreck, but our insurance will take care of it, the nice lady said...Most important, your daddy is alive ...No, we can’t stay here...Okay, honey...thank you...love you, too...See you soon.”
I absorbed Mrs. Crawley’s sadness, as I often do with victims. Thankfully, I managed to hold back the tears to answer my ringing cell phone. “Yes.”
“Maeva, it’s Paula. Arlene’s house is boarded and locked. I’m assuming she evacuated. I put a note on her door about Onyx and left my cell number for her to call. Also, I drove by the realty company where she works. That place is boarded up, too. So, I don’t know what to tell you to do. I’m just flabbergasted she’d leave her dog behind.”
“Thanks for checking, Paula.”
“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. Where are you now?”
“In Baker.”
“Are you coming to Huberta’s tonight?”
“I need to feed Onyx and take him out first.”
“It’s already 5:30,” Paula scolded, as if I were a child who needed to be reminded of the time. “I know.” My next appointments were on Paradise Isle, but I didn’t mention that to Paula.
Chapter Forty-three
I found Cheryl Fenland lying in a puddle of blood. She looked to be in her early twenties, with dark-brown hair. Tears streamed down her pretty face, and she was obviously pregnant, but fortunately alive.
“My Ba...by’s dead,” Mrs. Fenland kept sobbing.
I called 911 and told the operator to send Life Flight. Then I tried to calm Mrs. Fenland. “You and your baby are going to be okay.”
“I’m a nurse. I know. I fell down the stairs when they collapsed. Now my baby’s not moving.”Mrs. Fenland’s left ankle looked swollen. The foot was turned out, as if broken.
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