I decided to let it go. I had a larger argument to win. “Can we open the door now?”
She held up an index finger pointing straight to the ceiling. “Give me a minute.” She tapped lightly on the kitchen door. Ryan stuck his head out. They whispered, and Ryan ducked back into the kitchen for thirty seconds or so. Then he came into the dining room. He avoided looking at me as he walked to the front door and turned the lock.
He opened the door but held a hand straight out, almost in Cady’s face. “Sorry, I can’t let you in. Owen can meet with Bridgy, but he can’t talk to anyone else. Unless he’s representing all the ladies,” Ryan tossed on as an afterthought.
Cady took a half step forward. “Can I at least speak to Sassy? Make sure she’s okay?” I had to give Cady an “A” for effort, but Ryan was adamant.
The kitchen door swung open, and Ophie came through, looking a little the worse for wear. As soon as she saw Bridgy, she pulled herself together and sprinted to give her niece another of those big ole bear hugs.
“Oh, my poor, darlin’ girl. I so wish it was me found him and not you.” The fact that Frank Anthony was standing in the kitchen doorway was not lost on Ophie. She was determined to make him see Bridgy as a victim, not as a potential culprit. She stroked Bridgy’s hair. “You are too gentle a flower to suffer from making such a gruesome discovery. Why don’t you come back to the Treasure Trove with me? We’ll have another cup of chamomile and call your momma. A girl needs her momma at a time like this.”
Without daring to look at anyone, Ophie began guiding Bridgy to the door. Frank gave the merest nod of his head toward them, and both Ryan and Deputy Wei stepped between them and the door, stopping them cold. After that display of power, I expected the lieutenant to be at his most officious, but he surprised me by saying, “Ryan, let Stanton in along with Reston.”
Ryan stepped back and swung the door wide open. Owen walked directly to Frank, his hand outstretched. I pictured them as gladiators, tall, muscular men ready to do battle. Then they broke the image by shaking hands.
Owen was all business. “I’m going to be representing Bridgy until we decide whether or not she needs . . . different . . . counsel.”
Cady leaned down and began whispering in my ear, asking if I was okay, but I shushed him so I could eavesdrop on the conversation between Frank and Owen.
Frank hitched his belt like an old-time cowboy. Instead of answering Owen, he turned to Cady. “Hey, Pulitzer. You’re here on my authority. Anything you see or hear is strictly off the record.”
Cady bobbed his head in a gesture that covered both thank you and agreement, but Frank had already moved on and was speaking to Owen. “We’ve finished interviewing your client for now. We will want to speak to her again, probably later today but certainly by the morning. Make sure you’re available to accompany her. We can’t put this entire investigation on hold because she”—he hooked a thumb in my direction—“decided her friend needs a lawyer.”
He made it sound like Bridgy having a lawyer at her side was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Maybe to him, but I was nervous. My mother always warns, “Be ready. Sometimes life acts as though Mercury is in retrograde, even when it isn’t.” I’m more inclined to go with, “Better safe than sorry.”
Oozing with southern charm, Ophie batted her eyelashes at Frank. “If there is nothing else y’all need from us right now, I suppose I can take my niece to the Treasure Trove?”
Generally, when Ophie used her feminine wiles on Frank or Ryan, they would respond playfully. But this situation could not be salvaged by flirtation. All she got back from Frank was a curt nod and a direct order. “Check in with us if you are going to leave the Treasure Trove. I want to know where you are at all times.”
I could tell by her expression that Ophie had a coquettish answer on the tip of her tongue, but the look on Frank’s face made her swallow it. She nodded meekly and said nothing.
Miguel came across the room at the same time I stood. Two minds on the same path. I asked Bridgy to wait while I packed to-go cups of tea for them to take along.
Miguel approached the lieutenant directly. “If the kitchen is free for a few moments, I would like to prepare a snack bag for Bridgy to take and some fruit and cheese for the book club ladies. It has been a long day,” he finished by way of explanation.
Frank mulled for a second or two. “Sure, why not. Ryan will go with you.”
I was busy packing up the to-go cups but not too busy to recognize who the intended target was when he finished with, “Of course we’d be done a lot quicker if only people would stop interfering.” I knew that dagger was aimed at me, but I was resilient enough not to duck—or to answer back.
We loaded Owen down with a large bag of food. He managed to joke with Miguel. “I hope there is a Cubano sandwich tucked in there for me.”
“Sí. I know you need your strength to help our Bridgy. I feed you only the best. I think you will all enjoy the salads and cookies as well.”
Miguel hurried back into the kitchen, with Ryan on his heels.
I handed Ophie the cardboard tray of to-go cups and hugged Bridgy while I whispered, “I’ll see you in a few.”
Deputy Wei escorted them out the door and then locked it firmly so the rest of us had no chance of escape.
Miguel came out of the kitchen once more, this time carrying a large fruit and cheese platter and a plate of cookies. Ryan came along behind, chewing on what looked to be a Robert Frost fruit tartlet. The sight of the pastry brought back the memory of Oscar, just a few hours ago, demanding Bridgy bring them along to the Edison and Ford estates. I shivered, although I was far from cold.
The food seemed to cheer the clubbies, or at least it gave them something to occupy their time. I reminded myself to thank Miguel profusely when this ordeal was finally over. He was still serving the fruit and cheese when Ryan announced they wouldn’t be detained much longer. Lieutenant Anthony was ready to interview each of them. Ryan emphasized that it shouldn’t take long.
He pointed at Angeline. “Perhaps we can get you to your hair appointment on time. Would you come with me, please?”
Angeline preened, “I’d like that.”
I looked at the clock over the front door. Unless she was the final appointment on the daily schedule, Angeline wasn’t getting her hair done this afternoon. I’m sure she thought feigning that she had a chance to make her appointment would get her out fast no matter where she was going.
Frank Anthony said something I couldn’t hear to Tina Wei, and then he went back into the kitchen, ready to interview Angeline.
Tina seemed pleased to be able to tell me that I was finished for now and the lieutenant said I could leave.
Frank Anthony was dismissing me from my own café. I didn’t think he had the right, and I said as much. I barely noticed Tina’s cheeks redden as I sat back in my chair. I caught Cady shrug and exchange a helpless look with Tina.
Too bad on them all. Much as I wanted to rush over to the Treasure Trove to make sure Bridgy was okay, I refused to let anyone push me out of my own café.
Chapter Seven
Cady offered to stay with me while I waited for the interviews of the book club members to be over so Miguel and I could lock up for the night. When Bridgy and I were under the gun, it seemed as though we were being grilled for hours. The time the lieutenant spent with each of the clubbies was trifling by comparison. I clocked Angeline’s interview at less than ten minutes. Ryan opened the kitchen door, and Angeline came barreling out. She headed for the front door and pulled on the handle. When the door resisted, she grabbed the handle with one hand and the doorknob with the other and shook until the door rattled. I felt Cady slide his chair back, and I put my hand on his arm.
Deputy Wei opened the kitchen door, stuck in her head and asked if Angeline could leave. Then she moved to the front door and turned the lock above the doorkn
ob. “You are free to go.”
With her hand still on the knob, Angeline flung the door open so hard I feared the glass would break. I was half out of my chair when Cady grabbed my arm. It was as if we were taking turns keeping each other in our seats. Cady leaned in and said, “It will all be over soon.”
Sure, the interviews would be over soon, but then what? Frank Anthony had already warned Bridgy that he’d want to speak with her again—and soon.
I was still fretting about the chaos brewing around us when the kitchen door opened and Ryan escorted Tammy Rushing out of her interview. She came over to say good-bye. “I loved being in the Cool Reads/Warm Climate Book Club. I hope I get a chance to spend another winter in Fort Myers Beach. Great place for snowbirds.” Then she lowered her eyelids for a few seconds, and her demeanor became solemn. “It’s a shame that today ended so badly. Does the poor man have any family?”
I turned my palms up and sighed. “I really didn’t know him that well. Whenever we rented a van for a group trip, we requested him, because he loves, er, loved to laugh and tease. A trip with Oscar was always fun.”
Tammy leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder. “In case I don’t see you before I leave for home, I want to say thanks to you and Bridgy for making this winter such a memorable season for me. When I travel it’s usually difficult for me to find friends who love books and reading as much as I do. You made it easy.”
By the time Deputy Wei unlocked the door for Tammy, Sonja Ferraro was finished speaking to the lieutenant. She came out of the kitchen, looking flustered and exhausted like a woman who’d barely survived the Black Friday sales at the Edison Mall. I couldn’t figure out why she was so harried; hers was the quickest interview yet.
She asked if she could sit for a moment. “I need to catch my breath. What a distressing experience. This is my final trip to Fort Myers Beach, I can tell you that.”
Cady made a chamber of commerce–ish speech about the wonders of the town and how much better she would feel in the morning, but Sonja wasn’t buying it.
“Nope, I’m finished. Next year I’m off to Marco Island for sure. I’ve taken a couple of day trips there with the Ladies Tennis League for tournaments and such. Once I attended a fund-raiser for the community theater. It’s a pretty island, and after today, I’m sure it’s a lot safer.”
She glared at Cady as if defying him to argue. I got the impression she was disappointed when he said, “We’ll miss you,” and turned to me and asked for a cup of tea.
I went behind the counter and brought refills for us both. Then I walked to the book nook and asked Augusta and Blondie if they would like to sit with us. Miguel came along carrying the fruit and cheese tray from their table to ours.
Cady glanced at the book nook. “You forgot the cookies. I’ll get them.”
We all settled in just as Margo Wellington bounded through the kitchen door, gave us a quick smile and a wave and went on her way, leaving us with the impression that she had places to go and people to see.
Ryan called Blondie Quinlin into the kitchen. With only Augusta and Miguel left to be questioned, we could easily be rid of the sheriff’s deputies and have the café cleaned up within the hour. My neck and shoulders ached from the tension of the day. Miguel interrupted my fantasy, which involved a deep-tissue massage at one of the hotel spas.
“Chica, if you want to check on Bridgy, I can stay. I haven’t been spoken to yet, and I can finish closing on my own.”
Miguel was always so thoughtful. His offer was tempting. I was worried about Bridgy’s reaction to being the center of this investigation, but I refused to leave the café. No way I’d leave and let Frank Anthony think he was in charge. Never mind that for all intents and purposes he was.
I knew Owen could protect Bridgy up to a point, but shouldn’t we find a criminal lawyer before she talked to the sheriff’s deputies again? No massage for me tonight. I rubbed my neck and wondered if I had aspirin in my purse when Cady came to the rescue. “Why don’t I see how things are going at the Treasure Trove? If Bridgy needs you, I can buzz your cell.”
Without waiting for an answer, he dashed out the door. I was a little surprised that Deputy Wei let him go, but then I remembered she wasn’t too happy to see him arrive.
Augusta was unusually quiet. Miguel offered her more tea, but she shook her head. “No. Can’t eat no more. This killing thing, it brings back bad memories.”
Miguel and I sat quietly. I was thinking about Augusta’s cousin, a sweet woman who had been murdered a while back. I was trying to think of something to say to distract Augusta when Miguel suddenly announced, “I am going to clean the dining room. Once I get things onto the counter, it will be a breeze to get everything shipshape when the lieutenant is done with my kitchen.”
I opened my mouth, but before a sound came out, Miguel said, “No. You sit with Miss Augusta. You’ve had a long day.”
I gave him a grateful smile and pulled my cell phone from my pocket, willing it to ring, but Cady didn’t call. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign.
Ryan shepherded Blondie Quinlin out of the kitchen, led her straight to our table and pulled out a chair. Once she was comfortably seated, he offered his arm to Augusta.
“The lieutenant would like to speak with you now, Miss Augusta.”
Ryan was always kind and deferential to the older ladies, but I was sure he was being extra gentle with Augusta because he was remembering how difficult it was for her the last time she had to be interviewed about a murder.
I was gratified that, except for Sonja, the ladies were unruffled when they came out of the kitchen. I guess Frank Anthony had been kinder to them than he’d been to me.
I offered Blondie a cup of tea, but she said she preferred something cold. Miguel quickly poured her a glass of lemonade from the pitcher on the counter, and then he continued straightening the dining room. He was moving the chairs from the book nook back to their usual homes—some against the wall, some surrounding tables, when Blondie asked how Bridgy was doing.
“I wish I knew. Cady went to check, but I haven’t heard from him.” I looked at my silent cell phone. “I guess if she needed me . . .”
“Don’t you worry. She’s in good hands. Ophie gives the impression that she is all frou-frou and giddy, but she loves that girl and won’t let nobody harm her. Aunts love their nieces and nephews. I ought to know. Oh my Lord.” Blondie smacked her cheeks with both hands. “Michael. My nephew Michael. You need to meet him.”
Now? With all this going on, Blondie wanted to fix me up with her nephew?
I started to demur, but she waved away my objections. “Oh tosh, you are misunderstanding me. No romance intended. Michael, or Mugsy, as everyone calls him—the nickname is a throwback to his boxing days—anyway, he is the head dispatcher at the Gulf Coast Cab and Van.”
Blondie leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. It was strange that her arms-across-the-chest position didn’t annoy me the way it did when Frank Anthony adopted the pose. Instead, I felt she was calmly waiting for me to get her point.
For the first time since Bridgy discovered Oscar’s body, I sensed I could help her. Here was something I could do casually, without annoying anyone in the sheriff’s office. I would offer my condolences to the cab company. After all, Oscar was murdered at the end of our trip. Wouldn’t it be natural for me to talk to Blondie’s nephew? I organized the trip; Blondie was on the trip. Oscar worked for Mugsy. A definite connection.
Blondie watched me carefully, and her eyes began to sparkle when she saw the comprehension dawn. She opened her basket weave tote and pulled out a pink cloth purse. Out of that she withdrew a brown plastic loose-leaf binder, opened it and removed a pen. It was like watching a child play with those Russian nesting dolls.
She ripped a blank page out of the binder and began to scribble. “I’m
giving you Michael’s contact information. If anyone knows more about Oscar than we do, it’s Michael.”
The kitchen door opened, and as Ryan ushered Miss Augusta to our table, Blondie pushed the paper. It glided across the table and landed at my fingertips. I shoved it in my pocket.
Ryan pulled out a chair for Augusta, but she wasn’t having it. “Thanks but no thanks. I been here too long. Blondie, we should get going.”
Blondie stood and winked at me. “Don’t forget to make that call.”
I promised I would take care of it.
The two ladies reached the front door when Miss Augusta turned around and said, “Sassy, tell Bridgy I’m sorry for her trouble.”
I promised I would but, if even Augusta, who rarely focused on other people’s lives, knew Bridgy was in trouble, we were in deep weeds.
Ryan told Deputies Doyle and Wei that they were no longer needed, and he locked the door behind them. He turned to me.
“Who was she reminding you to call? You’re not going to meddle in this investigation, are you?”
“Oh please. According to Deputy Wei I meddled just by getting a lawyer for Bridgy. You have a very low bar when it comes to ‘meddling.’ If you must know, Blondie would like me to meet her nephew.” I ran my fingers through my unruly auburn curls and gave him a look I hoped was girlie-girl. Let him draw his own conclusions.
Ryan grimaced. “Personally, I hate blind intros, but good luck. I hope he’s a nice guy.” He turned to Miguel. “You’re up.”
He and Miguel went into the kitchen, leaving me alone for the first time since I got out of the shower that morning and joined Bridgy for coffee on the patio of the Turret, the nickname we gave to our apartment on the top floor of the Beausoleil, a beachside building on the north end of the island. I wallowed in the silence for a few minutes and then grabbed the electric broom from behind the counter.
Read to Death Page 5