It wasn’t like Janell to spout so many rapid-fire questions. I tried to calm her down. “Don’t know what Key West police procedural rules are, but my suggestion is to go along with any reasonable request the detectives make. Do you think it would be any easier to answer questions at the station?”
“Probably not,” Rex said. “Let’s co-operate without making a fuss, okay?”
“What about a lawyer?” Janell looked at Rex. “Anything we say can be used against us in a court of law. Isn’t that what the Miranda warning says? Maybe that detective’s trying to trick us into saying something that we’ll live to regret later.”
“The police can ask tricky questions.” I agreed before Rex could speak. “Do you have a lawyer?”
“Of course. We didn’t survive all the legalese of getting our business established without the help of a lawyer.” Rex picked up a telephone and punched in a number. “Hubble and Hubble. I’ll give Kran Hubble a ring.”
A ring was all he gave him. No answer. No answer machine requesting that he leave a message. “Let’s wing it,” Rex said. “A lawyer at our side might give the detectives the impression there’s something important we’re trying to hide.”
“Just tell the truth,” Janell said. “The truth, whatever it may be, will come out sooner or later.”
We were still in the living room when the others began to arrive. Mama G blustered in first.
“Hola!” She flounced across the room and stood glaring down at Janell on the couch. “Hella! Hella dead! What do you know about this? Who could have done such thing?”
“That’s what we all want to know.” Rex took Mama G’s arm and eased her toward a chair.
“Es malo. Muy malo.”
Mama G accepted a glass of water from Rex and then lapsed into silence until Phud arrived. Rex pulled a chair from the dining room table into the living room and without speaking motioned Phud to be seated.
Teach and Ace arrived together and Rex pulled in two more chairs. “May I bring anyone a glass of water?” Nobody answered.
Before sitting, Ace, passed my chair and dropped my cell phone into my lap. “One of my tech friends fixed it. No problem.” He grinned. “I programmed my name first on your speed dial.”
“Thanks, Ace.” I tucked the phone into my pocket, glad to have it back even though I didn’t plan to be making any calls.
“No lawyers?” Teach asked. “Does that mean we’re all sure we won’t incriminate ourselves?”
“I’m not worried about incriminating myself.” Phud looked around the room, letting his gaze touch each of us. “Are any of you concerned about that?”
“We need to take care,” I warned them. “Listen thoughtfully to each question and don’t hesitate to ask questions of your own if you think they’re necessary. Think carefully before you speak.”
Detectives Lyon and Brooks arrived in an unmarked car, parked in the tow-away zone, then strode to the door. Rex admitted them before they had time to knock. Lyon smoothed his hair, checked his watch, and then with slow deliberate motions he pulled his notepad and ballpoint from the pocket of his tan suit. Detective Brooks, a giant of a man, darkened the room like a rain cloud. He wore a charcoal gray suit, gray shirt, gray tie, and black Nikes, and he stood blocking the doorway. Did he think one of us might make a sudden break for freedom?
“Thank you all for gathering here promptly,” Lyon said. “The sooner we get your statements, the sooner you’ll be free to leave. Detective Brooks will read you your rights.”
Detective Brooks cleared his throat before he recited the Miranda warning as if he had done it a million times and could repeat it in his sleep. After getting each of our verbal agreements that we understood the warning, Lyon proceeded with the questioning, letting his gaze fall on each of us before addressing Rex.
“In your own words, tell us what happened here last night after your café closed for business.”
I squelched a smile, wondering whose words Lyon thought Rex might use other than his own.
“You closed a little after ten o’clock, right?” Lyon prompted. “Can you give me the exact time?”
“I can.” Rex rose to his feet, walked around the couch and stood behind Janell. “Paying patrons left the patio at ten o’clock. None lingered. Everyone who had worked here last night came inside at my invitation, and we had a brief celebration. I’d planned a mini-party and a couple of toasts in honor of Janell’s upcoming birthday and in honor of Kitt Morgan who will be leaving us soon to return to her job in Iowa. I served champagne, but that was all. No hard drinks. No other refreshments.” Rex took his time telling the whole story of our evening.
I watched the others as he spoke. Janell buried her face in her hands and I couldn’t tell whether she was weeping or trying very hard to keep her composure. Phud looked out the window. Mama G squirmed in her seat and gulped the rest of the water in her glass. Ace and Teach slouched on their chairs, trying hard to look bored and failing to bring it off.
Detective Lyon looked directly at Rex all the time he spoke, taking time at the end of his story to jot notes. “It is my understanding that each of you here in this room works in some capacity at The Poinsettia. Is that correct?”
“It is,” Rex said, speaking for all of us. “Ace Brewster, Teach Quinn, and Mama Gomez form the dance combo. Hella Flusher sometimes joined them, playing drums. Dr. Ashby is our gardener—Kitt Morgan our houseguest.”
“So the combo plays in the evenings?”
“Right,” Rex replied.
“You, Janell, and Miss Morgan work at your café in the evenings, right?”
“That’s correct,” Rex said.
“And Dr. Ashby, your gardener. When does he work? “
“He works in the mornings—when it’s cool.”
“So why, Sir, were you present last night?” Lyon looked at Phud.
“I came to enjoy the music, the evening, the refreshments, and to dance with Kitt Morgan.”
Lyon started more direct questioning with me.
“Where did you go and what did you do last night after the celebration ended, Miss Morgan?”
“I went upstairs to my room and retired for the night.”
“Any witnesses?”
“Janell and Rex were also upstairs, but I didn’t see them again. I had closed my bedroom door and I went directly to bed.”
“You stayed in your room? You didn’t leave the house later?”
“I remained in my room. I had no reason to leave my room or the house.”
“When was the last time you saw Hella Flusher alive?”
“She was one of the guests at the party. I saw her walk out our back door, head across the garden stepping on the flagstones on her way to her apartment at the Bed and Breakfast inn.”
“You didn’t see her enter the inn?”
“No. Her entry is on the back side of the building.”
“No front entry?” he asked.
“Yes. There’s a front entry, but Hella usually used the back entry, perhaps for more privacy.”
“That was the last time you saw her?”
“Yes.”
“And what time was it?”
“Around eleven thirty.”
“You looked at your watch?”
“No, Sir. After I snapped off the light and retired, I looked at my bedside clock that glows in the dark.”
After Lyon asked everyone in the room the last time they had seen Hella alive, it became clear that Rex saw her last. He said he had gone to the pool about 11:45 to make an adjustment on the filter system and had seen Hella’s shadow on the window shade as she moved about in her apartment.
“Did you speak to Miss Flusher at that time?” Lyon asked.
“No, Sir. I did not. I had no reason to speak to her.”
“Mrs. Cummings, you found the body this morning. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Will you describe the scene?”
“I object to that question.” Rex drew himse
lf to his full height and then laid both hands on Janell’s shoulders. “My wife gave you her statement about finding Hella’s body earlier this morning. I consider it harassment on your part to require her to relive that experience.”
“All right, Mr. Cummings. I’ll skip that question for now, but your wife may be required to answer that question many times and under many circumstances before this case is solved.”
“Thank you,” Rex said.
Detective Lyon looked around the room, allowing his gaze to rest on each of us for a moment before he spoke again.
“Dr. Ashby, Mr. Cummings mentioned that you worked mornings. When you came to work this morning, did you see Hella Flusher’s body?”
“No, Sir. I never work here on weekends.”
Lyon jotted words in his notebook before he let his gaze rove around the room, touching briefly on each of us. “Who were Hella Flusher’s enemies?”
“Who say Hella have enemies?” Mama G demanded, her nostrils flaring. “I say she have no enemies.”
“She must have had one,” Ace said. “She pretended to be a psychic. Maybe she gave a patron a reading that patron didn’t like.”
“Pretended to be?” Lyon asked. “You question her ability?”
Ace shrugged. “I think we all had our doubts about Hella’s psychic abilities.”
Teach and Phud nodded in agreement, Rex and Janell looked straight ahead, but Mama G jumped to her feet. “Hella have true ability to see the future. She tell me things about my life that helped me. Help me mucho.”
“I think she was bilking the tourists with her fortune-telling act at the Mallory sunsets,” Phud said. “I’m surprised some of her victims didn’t complain and have her arrested.”
“Was there any fortune telling going on at last night’s party?” Lyon asked.
“None.” Janell said.
“But…” I hesitated.
“But what?”
Lyon’s gaze bored into my eyes, making me regret having spoken.
“Miss Morgan?”
“At the party, we began discussing Abra Barrie’s murder and the fact that it remains unsolved. Janell and I had done a little investigating on our own this past week—to no avail.”
“You wanted to give the police some assistance in finding the culprit?” Lyon asked. Nothing in his voice or his demeanor suggested that he might be making fun of our efforts.
“We would have been pleased to have pinpointed the identity of the culprit,” I said. “But since that didn’t happen, all of us here this afternoon talked about trying to prove that nobody connected with The Poinsettia was guilty.” I told Lyon about our plan, about Hella agreeing to help us with her psychic ability.
“So where are the items you gave Hella to ‘read’? Lyon asked.
“She took them with her,” Rex said. “I’m assuming you’ll find them in her apartment.”
Lyon didn’t reply, but I sensed that he had not found the box nor the items in Hella’s room.
Teach spoke up, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “So maybe Hella was onto something. Maybe someone didn’t want her delving any more deeply into his or her life.”
“I doubt that.” Phud laughed. “Who’d believe such silliness?”
“I would.” I felt all eyes on me. “Our police department in Iowa once benefited from the work of a psychic. And Hella once revealed to me happenings from my past that she had no way of knowing except through extra-sensory perception. I believe she had a very special ability. Would it be possible for the Key West PD to work with a psychic?”
“Perhaps we can discuss that at a future time,” Lyon said. “For now, this will end the informal questioning. You will be called to headquarters later and asked to make more complete statements. At this time you are free to go on about your chosen activities. Do not leave Key West without telling me of your plans.”
Chapter 30
Once the detectives walked to their car and drove away, The Poinsettia workers stood and prepared to leave.
“Well!” Teach exclaimed. “What did you think of that? Are we all suspects?” Just because we happen to work here, worked with Hella?”
“That’s how it appears,” Phud said.
Ace shrugged and headed for the door. Even Mama G had little to say when she left the house.
“I still can hardly believe Hella died in this cruel way,” Janell said. “Can’t believe we’re all caught up in the aftermath of her murder.”
“I can believe it,” Phud said. “Never did like that woman and I’ll tell the police that if they should ask.” He headed for the door. “I’m outta here.”
Once the three of us were alone again, Janell excused herself and went upstairs to rest, and Rex followed her. I heard water running in the shower, then all was quiet.
Yes, we all were suspects in Hella’s murder. I went to my room and began packing my suitcase, stowing things I knew I wouldn’t need until I reached home. Home. What if the police wouldn’t let me leave? How long could they hold me here? While I worked, the idea of the police talking with a psychic ran through my thinking. I doubted that Detective Lyon believed in Hella’s talents, or at least believed strongly enough to plead with the PD to engage a psychic for help in solving the two recent murders. But there was no reason I couldn’t talk to one on my own. Couldn’t hurt. Might help.
I glanced at my watch. A little after four. By now, the buskers and artists would be starting to gather at Mallory to present their acts, their paintings and crafts. No reason I couldn’t approach a psychic with my questions. Several of them usually set up tables and chairs near the dock—tarot card readers, crystal ball gazers, tea leaf readers. Hella had pointed them out to me the evening I went there with her. They welcomed anyone with a few bucks to spare. I tucked some twenty-dollar bills into my billfold, stuffed it into my fanny pack, and tip-toed downstairs.
Had it been dark, I’d have been apprehensive about leaving The Poinsettia alone, but in broad daylight I felt I’d be in no danger. I agreed with Teach. Someone who had learned of our plans had wanted to prevent Hella’s future readings. And who could that have been except someone at last night’s celebration party? I buckled on my fanny pack, left a note for Janell and Rex on the kitchen table telling my plans, and headed for Mallory Dock.
The late afternoon sun warmed my head and shoulders but a slight chill in the onshore trade wind hinted of a cool evening to come. Had I not smelled the fragrance of popcorn a block away from the dock, I might have returned to the house for my sweater. Instead, I pulled a couple of dollars from my billfold and approached the nearest popcorn wagon. Two wouldn’t do it. I pulled out a third, thinking of 25 cent popcorn I enjoyed at the band concerts in Iowa.
Munching this favorite treat, I savored the taste of butter and salt and popped corn and forgot about needing a sweater later on. I strolled along the dock with an eye out for crystal ball and tarot readers. The sun glinting against the water all but blinded me, so I walked with my back to it.
Passing the man with the trained cats, the contortionist, and a silver-painted mime standing motionless on a silver pedestal, I approached Fondetta the Famous. Fondetta was offering palm readings and tea-leaf readings for ten dollars. For an additional ten, her sign mentioned sharing the visions she might see in her crystal gazing ball. The heavy aroma of gardenia-scented incense wafted around her, and a black cat that could have doubled for Voodoo purred in her lap.
When I paused, looking down at her table and her paraphernalia, she smiled up at me. That mannerism drew attention to two cheek dimples as well as her cleft chin. Dressed in a red satin gown that touched her ankles and a shawl that covered her dark hair but not her golden earrings, she whispered her come-on. All the while she ran her carefully manicured fingernails through her cat’s silky fur.
“Missy. Missy. Come. Do not hang back. Come to me. I tell you where your true love awaits you, Missy. I give you his name. This information presently known only to me will add great happiness to y
our life. Only twenty dollars, Missy. Only twenty dollars for the name of your one true love.” She stopped petting the car and held out her hand, palm up.
“Do you guarantee your visions, Fondetta?”
“Yes. Yes. Indeed yes, Missy. I guarantee the truthfulness of my crystal ball.”
Before she could say more, the bagpiper near the end of the dock began to blow a penetrating melody superimposed on a heavy drone bass.
Fondetta’s earrings jangled to the rhythm of her enthusiastic proclamations, but the bagpiper’s talent for loudness forced her to abandon her whispery voice. “I guarantee all visions, Miss,” she shouted. “I guarantee. Within one short week your true love will appear. Your soul mate. Do not pass up this opportunity for enlightenment. Fondetta will introduce you to a new life and give you her blessing.”
“Fondetta, did you know Hella Flusher?”
A look of fear crossed her face and she cuddled her cat on her shoulder, burying her face in its fur. “No. I d-do not know Hella Flusher.”
Her face flushed and I knew from that and her stammer she was lying. Or maybe she was afraid—afraid someone might have a special penchant for murdering psychics. I turned to walk on.
“Missy. Missy. Do not leave. Do not…”
“Maybe another evening, Fondetta, another time.” From the corner of my eye I saw her shoulders slump when I turned and walked on down the dock, putting distance between us. I turned to look back. She had lowered her cat to her lap and sat pulling her shawl tighter around her head. She might be Fondetta the Famous, but more likely she might also be Fondetta the Fake. I couldn’t imagine Hella ever having used such blatant bits of self promotion. Nor did she ever guarantee her work. Hella almost encouraged people to disbelieve her.
Walking on, I almost missed seeing Levanah who had set up shop for the evening in front of a small cream colored tent partially hidden by a seagrape tree. Zodiac signs covered the tent canvas and Levanah sat in the tent’s opening wearing a leopard print caftan, a matching turban, and at least a dozen necklaces and chains that jangled when she moved. She pointed to a canvas chair that matched her own, both chairs also in leopard print canvas. Inside the tent, sitting in the dimness and almost out of sight of passersby, I saw a man lounging on the ground in a brown beanbag chair. Body guard? Watchman? His gaze never left us.
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