5 Highball Exit

by Phyllis Smallman

  “Credit me with a little sense.”

  I bit back a retort and opened the door to the truck for her. The check I had tucked into my shoulder bag was making me more patient than I normally would be.

  She put her left foot in and then attempted to hoist her hip up onto the seat. She was too short. We’d gone through this the day before when I brought her home. I should have remembered and gotten a box for her to stand on.

  I looked around but couldn’t see anything that would help. Now, there’s where the trailer park has it all over the burbs. Back at the edge of the swamp there was so much junk lying around, I could have built a ramp for a rocket.

  She managed to get her left hip up near the seat but she just wasn’t making it on her own. I planted both hands under her rear end and heaved. It did the trick.

  Aunt Kay laughed. “I’m really not that kind of a girl, but thanks for the lift.”

  “It may not be elegant but it worked.”

  “Yes, but people will talk.”

  I drove out to Tamiami Trail and headed north with Aunt Kay beside me, humming softly away to herself, and the hot road shimmering in front of me. Even if she hadn’t been paying me to chauffeur her around, the drive would be worth it just to see her happy.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sarasota is a gorgeous city south of Tampa on the Gulf of Mexico. With long arching bridges going out to Siesta Key and Longboat Key, it has some of the finest white sand beaches in the world. And for the tourists who don’t drool over Sarasota’s beaches and azure waters, there are historic areas, little pockets of lush tropical plantings with brick courtyards, art studios and restaurants. Best of all, Sarasota is only a short drive north of Jac, for when we want a taste of something more sophisticated than our own little Eden offers.

  Holly’s building was a surprise—a glamorous structure about nine stories tall with a green copper roof perched on top like a Chinese hat. A smaller pergola-like arrangement, stretched across the front entrance, had a matching roof. The landscaping was elaborate. Bird of paradise and hibiscus surrounded a fountain shooting water twelve feet into the air. On either side of the entrance was a raked Japanese garden.

  It all said money. I pulled up under the overhang and leaned towards the windshield, straining for a better view of the building. “I live with a real estate guy. I bet the one-bedroom condos here, even in this economy, are likely three-quarters of a million.”

  “Perhaps Holly had a second job.”

  What Holly was doing wasn’t a job, more like the oldest profession.

  “Maybe she had a roommate.” Aunt Kay was still trying to put a shine on an apple with a worm in it.

  “Even with more than one roommate she couldn’t pay the condo fees on this place.”

  “Maybe she finally had some success.” She gave a weary sigh. The ugly truth was right in front of her face and hard to ignore.

  I said, “How are we going to get in?”

  “There are advantages to being old and harmless. I’ll get in and then I’ll let you in.”

  “Oh, really? Okay, Houdini, this I got to see.”

  Aunt Kay held onto the top of the door and slid off the seat to the ground. “Don’t be long,” she said. The door slammed.

  I went to look for the visitor parking area, expecting her to be right where I’d left her when I returned.

  I strolled back to the front of the building. The heat was already making my tee-shirt stick to me but it would be even worse for Aunt Kay. I calculated how soon she would tire of this and want to go home. It was going to be easy money.

  At the entrance I saw her hurrying to the front door ahead of a well-dressed man. Hunting in her purse for something, she appeared totally confused and demented. She was mumbling, “Where is it?” The man swiped a card key over a black pad and opened the door, holding it nicely for Aunt Kay to enter.

  “Oh, thank you, dear,” she said giving him a grateful smile.

  He returned her smile, a beam that said, “Poor old thing, she’s just like Grandma.” Inside, Aunt Kay moved slowly, still searching in her purse while the man walked ahead to the elevators, already forgetting her.

  When he was out of sight, Aunt Kay hurried back to open the door for me.

  “Nice,” I said.

  Inside, the lobby was welcomingly chilled and smelled of cleaning solution.

  I peeked down the hall to the elevators. “Now we’re inside what good does it do?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to figure out how to get up to Holly’s apartment. I watched that man. You need one of those credit-card keys to work the elevators.”

  “Even if we get up to her floor, we can’t get into her apartment without a key. And won’t the police have it sealed?”

  She considered it for a minute. “I don’t know that either.”

  “Well, that’s the way it happens on TV. The scene of a death is sealed off until they decide what really happened.”

  “But they already know what happened. She killed herself.” She looked at me, confusion and despair on her face. “I thought being here would help us in some way. I didn’t think it out too well, did I?”

  I rubbed my arms. The lobby, which had felt cool when I entered, was actually frigid. “Perhaps we should go.”

  The sound of a door closing down the corridor to our right set Aunt Kay digging in her purse again.

  I distanced myself from her, checking for missed calls and trying to look as if I was waiting for someone.

  I stole a glance at the person coming towards us. Mid-forties female, wearing a shapeless sweater over tan slacks and a black tee-shirt, her black bedroom slippers made slapping noises on the travertine.

  Apparently Aunt Kay decided that this was the sort of person she needed. She looked up and smiled, addle-brained and feeble. “Excuse me. Could you help me?”

  The woman took her hands out of the sweater’s pockets. Her voice was cross. She looked from Aunt Kay to me, but I already had my cell up to my ear as if I was listening.

  The big woman, at least five foot ten with bones well covered with flesh, turned back to Aunt Kay. “How did you get into the building?”Aunt Kay was about to be shown the door.

  “Oh, dear,” Aunt Kay said and sighed. Her hand fluttered and then she pressed her fingers to her lips. “So foolish.” Aunt Kay sank to a gilt chair standing by a glass console table. Her whole body seemed to wilt. I almost felt sorry for her myself.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked, right on cue.

  “Oh, yes, I hope you can. I can’t find my niece’s address. Oh dear, so silly of me, I hope I haven’t left my address book on the kitchen table. You see, I got it out to check the address.” Aunt Kay’s hand fluttered in the air about her head. “I get so confused.” She went back to sorting through the jumble of her purse, taking things out and dropping them in her lap and onto the floor before retrieving some and stuffing them into her purse again. “I just can’t believe I could be so stupid.” Aunt Kay’s voice trembled.

  The woman bent over and gathered wayward items from the floor. “It’s all right,” she said, handing back Aunt Kay’s things.

  “I guess my children are right, I’m losing it. That’s what they keep saying, over and over. Whatever am I going to do now?” Her shoulders shuddered.

  The woman’s voice was gentle when she asked, “Who’s your niece?”

  “Holly, Holly Mitchell.” Aunt Kay looked up, all brightly eager and hopeful. “Do you know her?”

  The woman’s mouth opened and closed. She turned her body slightly away from Aunt Kay, saying, “Better come with me.” The woman pointed down the corridor. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. I’m the super here. My name is Bella Gornoy.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s just down here.” She took a few steps down the hall.
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  “Oh, how kind.” Aunt Kay pushed herself upright and limped after the woman. “That’s just what I need, a cup of tea.”

  I went outside to wait for Aunt Kay to return or for the cops to come and pick her up. Either way, I wasn’t going to be caught inside the building. Aunt Kay was on her own.

  CHAPTER 14

  I sat on a stone bench in the shade, happy to shake free of Aunt Kay and her plans so I could make some calls. Driving her around was going to work fine. I could take her where she wanted to go and while she played detective, I could run the Sunset.

  I pulled my phone out and caught up, straightening out some scheduling problems and calling my wine merchant.

  I still had some calls to make, but the air smelled of jasmine.

  Somewhere near my head a bee buzzed . . . wind chimes tinkled gently . . . Not even worry could stop my head from drooping. I closed my eyes, letting the sleepless night catch up. My cell played “Dixie” and I jerked awake. “You are not going to frigging believe this,” a voice said.

  “These days I could believe anything, including, ‘The end is nigh.’ I can really believe that one.”

  “Parrots,” Gwen Morrison said. “The palms outside the diningroom windows are full of parrots. People are coming upstairs just to get a better look at them.”

  “And this is good because . . . ?”

  “Because, Oh Thick One, these people may stay for lunch. I’ve called the radio station and the newspaper. It’s been on the radio already.”

  Parrots don’t belong in Florida. We have a big problem here with exotic species running loose, from boa constrictors eating alligators to chimps terrorizing whole neighborhoods up in Tampa. Down in the Everglades they’ve even opened a hunting season for pythons. Tens of thousands of pythons are slithering about the Everglades eating the native birds and mammals. At over twenty feet long and up to two hundred pounds, a snake that can both climb and swim . . . well, let’s just say camping in the reeds isn’t going to be my kind of fun anytime soon. But a whole lot of crazy men I know think it sounds like a high old time to go down there and have a go at snake hunting. They’ve already applied for licenses. Those guys will probably kill more hunters than pythons.

  “Can you imagine? Parrots! Isn’t that great?” Gwen said.

  “Great hardly covers it! We don’t want them flying away until at least after the dinner hour. How can we keep the little buggers there, nail them to the branches?”

  “The humane society may frown on that tactic.”

  “Okay, cover the branches with peanut butter.”

  “The Chamber of Commerce may frown on that.”

  “Screw them. They aren’t running a restaurant and trying to stay alive in this economy.”

  “Well, let’s just hope these birds hang around for a day or two, with or without any help from you. In the meantime, I’ll spread some peanuts under the trees and pretend it was one more stupid tourist who did it. Man, how do people get by without tourists to blame things on?”

  “Blame it on staff like I’m going to if this goes wrong.”

  “You better get your ass back here. I don’t want to call in extra servers.”

  “I’ll be there soon. By the way, do you remember Holly Mitchell?”

  “Of course. Flighty, pretty little thing, who was going to be inmovies and was only at the Sunset while she waited for her big break. The worst waitress we ever had.”

  “That’s her.”

  I told Gwen that Holly had committed suicide. She said, “I can’t believe it. It just doesn’t seem possible.”

  Sitting there, looking at a little garden of sand and rocks with miniature stone temples, I agreed—it wasn’t feasible. “Do you remember anything else about her?”

  “Only that Zach Maguire became our best customer when she was here.”

  “Zach?”

  “Yeah, you remember. He always sat right by the waitress’s station, where they pick up the drink orders, and talked to Holly. I remember you were about to toss his ass out of there because he slowed her down, but she dumped him before you got around to it.”

  “That’s right. He works at my bank. I think he’s the loan manager or something because he called about my overdraft. I should have tossed him out while I had the chance. Do you know that the Bank of America in Jacaranda frowns on you not paying something on your overdraft every month?”

  “How mean-spirited of them!”

  “I wonder if Zach has any discretion on when they call in my loan.”

  “If he does, I suggest you put on one of your Sherri-the-Slut outfits and go make nice with Zach.”

  “I’ll wear red heels. Not a man alive can say no to a woman wearing red stilettos.”

  “They’re susceptible to those as well,” she agreed.

  “You realize, of course, that this goes strictly against Clay’s advice on how to do business.”

  “Yeah? Well, you and I both know how the real business is done. And would you rather drown wearing red stilettos or sensible pumps?”

  “Wearing red all the way . . . Of course, if this thing I’m working on turns out, I won’t need to worry about the bank.”

  “Is this ‘thing’ legal?”

  Before I could answer, Gwen said, “Scratch that question. I don’t want to know.”

  “Wise, very wise.”

  I saw the woman in the long sweater walk Aunt Kay to the door. “Gotta go.” I stood up and walked away, not wanting the woman to ask what I was still doing there. I waited out of sight for Aunt Kay. She was red-faced and puffing when she joined me.

  “Slow down,” I cautioned, suddenly remembering her heart condition. “Better still, wait right here and I’ll bring the truck.” She shook her head. “Just give me your arm.”

  “This weather can’t be good for you.”

  “It isn’t the temperature; it’s any exertion. I’m fine.” She leaned on me and we ambled at tortoise speed to the truck with heat shimmering off the pavement like we were walking through fire and breathing air that smelled scorched and dusty.

  “It was very interesting.” Aunt Kay stopped so she could talk and still breathe. “She did know Holly.”

  “Wait ’til we’re in the truck.” I didn’t want her dying right there on the pavement.

  At the passenger door we did another undignified heft of her behind to get her inside. She said, “If this intimate handling of my person goes on I expect you to at least buy me lunch.”

  “And I expect you to pay for my chiropractor.”

  She sat on the passenger seat, huffing and puffing, while I went around to the driver’s side, which faced the sun. I cautiously tested the door handle. It was sizzling enough to sear a steak, so I bunched up my tee and used it to protect my hand. When I slipped behind the wheel, Aunt Kay had a little dollar-store fan out and was working it furiously. It took her some time before she was able to say, “Bella’s little apartment was the cleanest home I ever saw. It was barren, it was so clean. No signs of living at all. It smelled like it had been disinfected.”

  I turned on the engine and rolled down the windows while I checked out Aunt Kay’s color. She wasn’t too pale anymore.

  She stopped talking and sucked in several deep breaths, blowing air out slowly between pursed lips.

  “I told her that I woke up this morning thinking of Holly and decided I’d take a chance on finding her in. I could see she was worried about how to tell me Holly was gone.”

  This was going to be a long story. I rolled my shoulders, stretched my neck from side to side and fought for patience.

  “I felt badly about lying to her.”

  I reached in back of the passenger seat and took two bottles of water from my cooler.

  “Did Bella know Holly?” I asked, thinking this mi
ght save about an hour and a half.

  “Not really. Bella only knew Holly in the most casual way, said they talked while Bella cleaned the laundry room and Holly did her laundry.” Aunt Kay’s stories have a way of rambling. I unscrewed the top and handed her a bottle of water.

  Aunt Kay held the bottle to the inside of her wrist. “Apparently people aren’t supposed to just leave their laundry and go back upstairs.”

  “Just like they’re not supposed to let strangers into the building.”

  “Yes, dear.” She switched the bottle to her right wrist. “She madetea. On a day where we’ve already broken a record for morning temperature, she put the kettle on. People think that’s what old ladies drink and that’s what you do in a time of crisis. She told me Holly obeyed the rules, always stayed right there ’til her laundry was done.

  Knowing Holly, it was probably more in the hopes of having company rather than respect for the rules. Holly hated being alone, never could play on her own.” She turned her head to look at me. “Bella told me something else.”

  Aunt Kay took a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at the sweat on her face and neck. “Bella saw bruises on Holly’s arms and even her upper chest, but her legs and the inside of her thighs had the heaviest marks.” The tissue was worked into a small ball in Aunt Kay’s fingers. “Seems Holly was beaten over a long period of time.”

  I cursed and then said, “Sorry.”

  “She didn’t ask how Holly got them but I think Bella was hoping I’d tell her.”

  I took a deep breath and dived in. “Look, there are some things I have to tell you.”

  She turned to face me, already knowing she wasn’t going to like what was coming.

  “Holly was working for an escort service.” I closed the windows and let the air conditioning take over. “I went online last night and searched through Sarasota escort services until I found her.”

  I studied Aunt Kay to see how she was taking this. “There are pictures of girls there, disgusting, and they tell . . . well, kinda what they’re willing to do.”