“Stay with me and you won’t get hurt,” Phud said. “I don’t know what Ace has or had in mind, but I’m driving you to The Poinsettia.”
Oh sure, I thought. Some fat chance of that. If only I hadn’t dropped my cell phone! My head throbbed so hard I could hardly bear to keep my eyes open. Traffic flowed slowly, but in a heavy stream. In the moment Phud started to nose the car ahead of two guys holding hands in a pink convertible, I looked back and saw Ace shove Mama G aside. She blustered and chased him, but he dashed toward us, and even with the Chevy moving forward, he managed to yank the rear door open and slide onto the back seat.
Car horns blared. When we neared Southernmost Point, a police car sat waiting at an intersection stop sign. I tried to signal the officer, but he didn’t see me and he left his patrol car to talk to two girls whose mo-ped had stalled. Phud drove on and turned a corner onto Simonton Street. For a moment I relaxed.
Maybe he did intend to take me to The Poinsettia. At least we were headed in that direction when a police car nosed into the traffic directly behind us, lights flashing and siren wailing.
Chapter 22
Key West’s narrow streets and heavy traffic make it hard for drivers to pull over to the side for any reason—police car, fire truck, ambulance. At the next corner, Phud hung a quick left onto a side street with the patrol car riding our rear bumper, its siren still wailing.
“Stop, Phud. Stop before you get us killed!” I held my breath. Did he plan to pull over and stop or was he going to make a break for freedom? I grabbed the leather handhold above the door and braced both feet against the floorboard in preparation for a chase. A chase to where?
“You dumb head!” Ace shouted, leaning from the back seat to shake Phud’s shoulder. “Highway One’s the only route out of the Keys! You’re going to get us all jailed!”
“Please stop, Phud,” I begged. “We can’t escape for long.” The police car still followed us, lights still flashing but with the siren silenced.
At last Phud hit the brakes and slowed the car, stopping in the closest place available and lowering the window. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Drivers behind us honked, shouted, and gave us the bird, but drove on past. Looking into the rear view mirror, I watched the policeman fling his car door open and approach us. Only seconds later, the squad car’s rear door opened. Mama G stepped into the street and blustered toward us.
“May I see your driver’s license, please?” the officer asked Phud.
Officer Lyon matched the name on his badge. He filled out his size large uniform with no fabric to spare, and his tawny mane of hair matched his hazel eyes. He reminded me of the picture of a lion fish I saw once in an encyclopedia. Impaling Phud with his direct gaze, he waited for an answer, saying no more to any of us.
Phud dug into the pocket of his jumpsuit and pulled out his billfold, flashed the license to the officer who took it and examined it carefully.
“Dr. Whitney Ashby?” Officer Lyon asked. “Are you Dr. Ashby?”
“I am.”
“May I see your car registration, please?”
Phud reached across me, opened the glove box, and after fumbling through its contents for a few moments, produced a plastic envelope that contained the pink registration slip. The officer studied it as if memorizing it for a test.
All this time Mama G stood at the officer’s elbow, breathing like a winded whale while she clenched and unclenched her fists. Then, unable to keep quiet any longer, she pointed at Phud and began spouting her complaint.
“He be the one, Officer. Him behind the wheel. He force the woman into his car. Kitt Morgan. That be her name. Kitt, she pull back. She no want to go with him. I can tell that. But he stronger. He jerk her inside the car. He slam car door to keep her from falling into street, then varoom varoom he zoom forward.” She nodded toward Ace. “Big guy jump in back seat, Ace Brewster, he grab back car door and leap inside with them one momento before they varoom.”
The officer waited until Mama G finished her high volume spiel before he spoke to Phud. His low-key voice contrasted with Mama G’s tirade in a way that drew our undivided attention.
“Dr. Ashby, this witness has reported seeing you force your companion into your car against her wishes. Is this true?”
“Yes, it’s true!” I said. “I never wanted to get into this car and I want out of it right now!”
“Did the man injure you?” the officer asked me.
I hesitated. “No, but…I didn’t want to get into this car.”
“I notice your torn shirt. How did that happen?”
I hesitated again and Phud spoke up. “Ask the sport in the back seat. I’m guessing he can tell you about the torn sleeve.”
“Sir?” Lyon bent lower to look at Ace.
“No comment,” Ace growled.
Phud spoke again. “By chance, I was a bystander on the scene at the lighthouse. I’d gone there to fulfill my contract with the city to add some landscaping to the museum grounds. Ms. Morgan dashed toward me, running from her assailant. I shoved her into my car for her own protection—to escape from him.”
“Is this true, Ms. Morgan?”
“I…I’m not sure, Sir.”
“I planned to take her home,” Phud said. “That’s where we were going when you stopped us.”
The officer peered into the back seat at Ace. “May I see your identification, please.”
Ace presented his driver’s license which the officer read as carefully as he’d read Phud’s before returning it to him and peering at me.
“Where do you live, Miss?”
“Iowa, Sir. For the past few days, I’ve been a house guest of my family, the Cummings, at The Poinsettia bed and breakfast inn.”
The officer raised an eyebrow. “The Poinsettia. I believe a murder victim, Abra Barrie, had been staying there before…”
“Right!” Mama G exclaimed. “The dead one, she stay at The Poinsettia. These two men in car. They work at same inn. That’s why I call police when I see the bad stuff coming down between them this morning.”
“Miss…Miss Morgan, right?”
I nodded.
“Miss Morgan, are you afraid of these men? Either of them? I’m not sure what’s going on here, but if you feel frightened, I’ll drive you to your relatives and hold these men for further questioning.”
“Is good plan. Mucho bueno.” Mama G punctuated her words with a slap on the car fender before I could respond. “I walk back to my museum job. Kitt go to The Poinsettia. Men go to station for more questions.”
“Miss Morgan, please answer my question. Are you afraid of these men?”
For a few moments I lowered my head and covered my face with my hands, saying nothing. The officer stood at the car window waiting for my response. I wasn’t sure of my feelings. I’d felt terrified on those lighthouse steps, but now my head throbbed and my mouth grew so dry I could hardly swallow. Nor could I pinpoint exactly what had happened at the museum or what had caused all the hubbub. Maybe I’d misinterpreted Ace’s apology. Maybe the memory of my horrifying nightmares caused me to aggrandize his apology out of proportion to its importance. Maybe this. Maybe that. My mind felt muddled.
And what about Phud? I wasn’t sure of my feelings toward him, either. Maybe today’s ruckus was fallout from my frightening trip with him to Big Pine yesterday. Why did I always have to keep reminding myself that Phud was Janell and Rex’s friend, that Ace was their trusted friend and employee? When I lifted my head, Mama G still stood beside the officer, both of them awaiting my answer. Surely if I’d witnessed the same scene Mama G had witnessed, I’d have reported it to the police, too. She’d only acted on the spur of the minute and done what she’d considered to be her duty. I couldn’t fault her for that. My mind flashed to Rasty Raymore. I knew a lot about quick actions and doing one’s duty. More than I wanted to know.
“Officer,” I said. “I believe this trouble’s the result of several past misunderstandings. Mama Gomez has tried to be helpful to me and I’m grateful f
or her concern, but I’m really not afraid of either of these men. They both work for my Key West family as trusted friends and employees and I’d like you to overlook today’s disturbance.”
The officer smiled. “Then, I’ll ask you to get into my car, and with your permission, I’ll drive Mama Gomez back to the lighthouse before I drive you to The Poinsettia. I’ll trust Dr. Ashby and Ace Brewster to get wherever they’re going on their own. If any of you have anything more to say about this incident, you may call me at the police station. Ask for Detective Lyon.”
“Detective?” I asked.
Lyon blushed. “I’ve been promoted. Got the word a short time ago this morning. From now on it’s Detective Lyon.”
“Congratulations, Sir. And thank you for your help.” I left Phud’s car and got into the police car with Detective Lyon and Mama G. We rode to the lighthouse museum in silence where Mama G left us, head held high.
“I’m sorry to have caused this disturbance, Detective,” I said as we drove to the B&B.
“No apology needed. Please remember my name if you have any additional problems.”
“Yes, Sir. And thank you again.”
Janell rushed outside when she saw the patrol car stopping in front of The Poinsettia. “Kitt, what’s happened to you?” She eyed my torn sleeve when Lyon opened the car door for me. “Where’s Ace?”
“I’ll explain everything, Janell.” I turned to thank Officer Lyon once more for his help, for the ride, and then I turned to Janell. She motioned for Rex to join us and he left his carpentry project on the patio and strode toward the house. The morning had grown warm, and Rex’s bald head gleamed with perspiration. When we stepped into the kitchen, he wiped his head with his work glove and then removed both gloves and tossed them into the laundry alcove on top of the washing machine.
The gloves! I recognized them from the yellow stain and the worn fabric on the thumb of the left glove. That was the same glove I’d snitched from Ace’s boat, given to Hella for study, and then planted it poolside, hoping Ace would think he’d dropped it there. How did Rex happen to be wearing it now? I wanted to ask a few questions, carefully worded questions, but Janell and Rex were brimming over with questions of their own.
“Where’s Ace?” Janell asked. “Has something happened to him?”
“Were the two of you in an accident?” Rex asked. “What happened?”
Janell filled a glass with ice cubes. Rex pulled a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and filled the glass, then poured one for Janell and another for himself. I’d almost forgotten my torn sleeve, but now I ripped it from my shirt and stuffed it into my skirt pocket.
“Give,” Janell said, joining us at the kitchen table.
I tried to make my explanation to her brief, but Janell insisted on hearing every detail. When I finished, neither of them spoke for several moments.
“I had no idea that Ace knew you from childhood years, Kitt. You never mentioned anything about him when you were growing up—at least nothing that I can remember.”
“I told you I was too scared to tell anyone about him because I’d disobeyed Mom by leaving our yard to meet him.”
“And you’ve held that secret and those horrible memories for years. It’s no wonder you’ve had nightmares. Maybe today’s fright happened for the good. Maybe you’ll have no more bad dreams now that you have a better understanding of what happened all those years ago.”
“I hope so. Ace apologized to me. Now that he’s an adult, I’m vowing to forget those rotten things he did as a child. Forget that I disobeyed Mom. Live and let live. We all have lots of growing up to do.”
We finished our tea, and I intended to go upstairs to shower and change clothes, but I hadn’t forgotten about the glove—the glove that had seemed to frighten Hella so much that she wanted it out of her apartment. I stepped toward the countertop where Rex was picking the gloves up now in preparation for returning to his project on the patio.
“Those look like Ace’s gloves,” I said, forcing a laugh that I hoped sounded realistic. I touched the worn thumb and the mustard-colored stain. “Didn’t I see them that day we went aboard his boat?”
“Probably did,” Rex agreed. “Guess I laid them down in the wheel house. Ace returned one of them to me and I found the other one by the pool.” Rex slipped the gloves on and had started out the back door when the phone rang.
“The Poinsettia,” he spoke into the phone. “Rex Cummings speaking.”
I had headed on upstairs when he called me back.
“It’s for you, Kitt.”
Both Rex and Janell left me alone with the phone. I hadn’t told them about Hank’s call, about Rasty Raymore’s death, nor had I mentioned the possibility that I might be getting news concerning my job soon. My hand shook as I reached for the phone.
“Hello.”
“Greetings, Sgt. Morgan. Chief Gilmore speaking.”
He didn’t need to say that. I recognized his voice. I held my breath.
Chapter 23
“Sgt. Morgan? Are you there?”
“I’m here, Sir.”
“I have two pieces of news for you. Rasty Raymore died this morning.”
“I’m sorry.” The words hung between us for a few moments before he spoke again. I could hear his breathing on the other end of the line.
“I’ve saved some better news for last,” Chief Gilmore said. “The review committee has reached a verdict after considering your case.” Tension grew in the silence following that announcement. Did he expect me to respond? When I didn’t speak, Gilmore continued. “They ruled that you shot Raymore in self defense. They recommended that no charges be filed against you and that you be reinstated in your position on the police force—if you so desire.”
Again, silence. Raymore’s death was a real downer. The decision of the review board was an upper. But both events left my mind spinning. I kept my own counsel. As a child, I used to wonder what that phrase meant. Now I knew. I monitored my words carefully.
“How soon do you expect my decision, Sir?” Again, the line between us hummed. Had he expected me to leap at the chance to return home, return to the small town gossip that would follow this case? Did he expect me to be eager to return to the scrutiny of my community and my co-workers?
“You were suspended with pay, Sergeant. If you need more time, you may have another week—without pay. At that time I’ll expect your decision.”
“Thank you, Chief Gilmore. And thank you for giving me this news. These past days have not been easy ones for me, for you, or for our community. You will hear from me soon.”
“I’ll be expecting your call, Sergeant. The force is ready to welcome you back.”
I replaced the receiver and sat deep in thought, relieved that the review committee had exonerated me. Now I’d have to exonerate myself. That would be harder. I wasn’t sure I could do it.
Thirty-four years and I never fired my gun.
My Dad’s words played like a threnody in my mind. Maybe I wasn’t level-headed enough to handle a job involving the possibility of taking of a human life. The decision to return to Iowa would take a lot of soul searching. But not now. Janell and Rex knew this call had been an important one, important to all of us. They deserved to know the decision of the review committee immediately. I had started to leave the kitchen to give them the latest news when the telephone rang again.
“I’ll get it,” I called as I picked up the receiver.
“The Poinsettia. Kitt Morgan speaking.”
“Kitt! It’s Shelby. Howya doin? Been meaning to give you a call.”
Shelby Cox. A voice from my past. A voice missing since the night I shot Rasty Raymore. A voice missing during all the days the review committee had been in session. A voice I had no interest in hearing now.
“Kitt? Can you hear me? I’m on my cell. Can you hear me now?”
I replaced the receiver.
“You okay, Kitt?” Janell stuck her head into the kitchen. “That last call? You o
kay?”
“Yes, I’m okay.” Rex followed Janell into the kitchen. “Everything’s okay. The first call was from Chief Gilmore. Rasty Raymore died, but I’ve been exonerated. Chief Gilmore wants me back on the force.”
Janell rushed to me, giving me a long hug before she backed off. “And you’ll return, won’t you, Kitt? You’ll reclaim your position?”
“Don’t rush her,” Rex said. “Give her some thinking time.”
I smiled at Rex, but all at once everything fell into place in my thinking. Maybe my decision had been there all along and Chief Gilmore’s call, Shelby’s call, had given me the incentive to put my misgivings aside and declare that decision. I must return Gilmore’s call. Today. My singing career may have flopped through no fault of my own, but my police career was still up and going. I might change my mind about it later, but for now I was still Sgt. Kitt Morgan.
“Yes. I’m going to return to my job. That night in the pet store, I could have doubted my need to defend myself. I could have wimped out and let that guy take a shot at me. But I didn’t. I made a split-second decision to pull the trigger. I shot a man. Sometimes I can still hardly believe I did that.”
“You did the right thing,” Rex said. “Believe it. You did the right thing—the only thing.”
“And after I shot the man, I could have chosen to resign from the force right then. I didn’t have to let keeping my job hang on the decision of a review committee. I could have resigned on the spot. But I didn’t. I chose to fight for myself and my career.” I lowered my voice. “The memory of killing a man will live with me forever. I’ll have to learn to deal with it. Some way. Somehow. But for right now, I’m ready to keep on fighting.”
“It’s what Dad would have done, Kitt.”
“I’m glad you said that, Janell. It confirms the rightness of my decision. It helps me move forward. You, Rex, Chief Gilmore, the review committee—and God. You’ve all given me grace. I thank you.”
Rex took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Grace is fine, Kitt, but you’re going to need strength, too. Strength to move forward and face your future.”
Killer in Control Page 18