by Alice Orr
“I don’t really care what you would call it.” Taylor’s voice was low and angry.
“You had better care, Ms. Bissett. As I see it, you are intimately involved in two suspicious deaths, one of which is definitely a homicide.”
Taylor pushed her chair back so hard that the wrought-iron legs grated loudly against the veranda floor. She stood up so that she would be looking down at Santos and he would have to look up at her.
“If you have a specific charge to make,” she said, and her voice was trembling, “then make it and put me under arrest. But if you do that, you had better have the kind of evidence it takes to make that charge stick. Otherwise, you’ll be hearing from my attorneys about false arrest, along with the charge of harassment.”
“Well, well, well,” he said. “I really seem to have pushed your buttons this morning.”
“My buttons are not your business, Detective, unless you have a formal charge to make. And, if you have, you had better make it now.”
Taylor could feel herself about to explode. She imagined she must look that way, too. Her cheeks were so hot that they had to be bright red, and she guessed that her eyes must also be spitting sparks for everyone to see.
“One moment, please, both of you,” Winona said in a very commanding tone. “I feel that I must intercede here before this situation gets even more out of hand.”
“Go right ahead, Dr. Starling,” Santos said. “Ms. Bissett could use a referee.”
“And what about what you could use, Detective?” Taylor snapped.
“I must insist that the two of you let me speak for a moment,” Winona said. “You will accomplish nothing by yelling at one another.”
“Ms. Bissett is doing all of the yelling here. I have not raised my voice.”
“You may not raise your voice,” Taylor said, leaning across the table toward Santos, “but you don’t hesitate to be nasty, do you?”
“Enough!” Winona was the one to raise her voice this time. “Taylor, sit down this instant. And, Detective Santos, please let me ask the questions.”
Santos shrugged but didn’t comment further. After a moment’s reluctance, Taylor sat.
“Detective Santos gave me no indication of any intention to put you under arrest, Taylor,” Winona went on in her usual modulated tone. She turned toward Santos. “Was I correct in that interpretation of your intentions from our conversation before Taylor arrived, Detective?”
“Absolutely correct.”
“And have you altered those intentions?” Winona asked.
Santos waited a moment before replying, “Not at this particular time.”
“Good.” Winona turned back to Taylor. “Are you aware, my child, that you need not subject yourself to any further questioning without an attorney or other representative present on your behalf?”
“I am aware of that.” Taylor hoped she wouldn’t have to go to such lengths. Her threat of calling in an attorney had been more a bluff than anything else.
“Then I would suggest that this interview is at an end,” Winona said, “or at least postponed until Taylor is feeling more equal to the challenge and is properly represented, as well.”
“I have a number of other questions,” Santos began.
“As I understand the law, Detective Santos,” Winona cut in, “once a suspect has requested the presence of counsel, the interrogation must cease until that counsel has been arranged.”
Taylor opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t like being referred to as a suspect, and she wasn’t sure she wanted legal counsel.
“Please, child,” Winona said firmly. “Let me take the leadership role here. I am convinced that I can act in your best interests, perhaps even better than you can at this point in time.”
Before Taylor could decide whether she agreed with that or not, Santos stood and stepped back from the table.
“Dr. Starling is one hundred percent on target about the law. You have the right to have a lawyer present and, if that’s what you want, my hands are tied for now.”
Taylor wasn’t sure what she did want, other than to have Santos out of here. Winona’s way did seem to be the fastest means of accomplishing that. Taylor sighed and nodded her agreement.
“Excellent,” Winona said with a level of enthusiasm Taylor thought hardly justified. “Now, child, why don’t you go upstairs while I see the detective out. I will join you shortly.”
Taylor hesitated.
“I do not believe there is anything positive to be achieved by prolonging this meeting.”
Taylor couldn’t really argue with that. “All right,” she said.
She turned from the table without so much as looking at Santos. She could sense that he, on the other hand, was watching her every move as she walked to the door. She hated to leave a situation where she suspected she would be the topic of conversation after she was gone. She opened the door and went inside anyway, comforted only by the fact that Winona remained behind as her champion.
* * *
A HALF HOUR LATER Winona came to Taylor’s room as promised.
“Where were you bicycling off to so early this morning?” she asked, obviously trying to keep the subject off Detective Santos for the moment.
She was dressed in white from chin to toe as usual, in a long lounge dress such as fine ladies in old movies might wear in the morning. A silver chain hung from her neck, from which a deep purple polished stone in a silver-filigree framework was suspended almost to her waist.
“What kind of stone is that?” Taylor asked while deciding whether to follow Winona’s lead in softening the conversation.
“They call it sodalite. It is purported to possess the power to balance the opposing sides of one’s being. I shall get you one of your own, my dear. We could all use a bit of balancing on occasion.”
Taylor was tempted to laugh out loud. “You won’t hear any argument from me about that right now.”
“I hope that we shall not argue about much of anything, my dear.”
Winona had brought a tray with her and put it on the table next to the bed where Taylor was seated, propped against several pillows. She accepted the cup of tea Winona offered. The amber liquid smelled softly of lemon. Taylor took a sip. It tasted good, and the warmth of it was welcome.
“I went to see Des Maxwell,” she said, having decided to answer Winona’s earlier question.
“How nice it is that you two young people seem to have struck up a friendship.” Winona had seated herself on the edge of the bed.
“I thought you didn’t approve of Des.”
“As you say, I do not approve of Mr. Maxwell, nor do I trust his intentions. He is far too circumspect a young man for my taste. When with him, which I must admit I am relieved is not often, I am fairly assailed by the impression of tales unspoken, perhaps even dark tales unspoken. That is the main reason I avoid his company. I tend to experience such impressions as an assault, which can be quite painful. My intuitions are so keen as to be vulnerable to such overwhelming influences.”
Taylor sighed. Her own intuitions might not be as sensitively pitched as Winona’s, but Taylor had sensed the same thing about Des and his secrets.
“Drink your tea, my dear,” Winona said. “It will soothe you.”
Taylor did as requested. “This is delicious,” she said politely.
“I am so glad you like it. I will prepare a packet for you to take with you when you return home.”
Taylor hadn’t thought about going home in what felt like so long that the concept seemed strange to her, as foreign and distant as home itself was from this island and what had happened to her here. Those experiences should have made her eager to shake the sand of Key West from her feet and fly north as soon as possible. Yet, something had a hold on her here, making her not at all certain whether she wanted to go or to stay.
“We were speaking of Mr. Maxwell,” Winona was saying as she refilled Taylor’s cup from the pot on the tray. “I may not enjoy his company myself, but I sho
uld not attempt to impose those sentiments upon you. You are a grown woman of considerable intelligence and most certainly capable of choosing your companions for yourself. I am deeply apologetic that I may not have behaved appropriately when you brought Mr. Maxwell here yesterday.”
“You needn’t apologize...” Taylor began. She was about to add that she had very big doubts about Des herself when Winona raised her hand to interrupt.
“Yes, my dear. It is most appropriate that I express my regrets to you. It has long been my conclusion from my communications with your departed aunts that they held you entirely too close to their bosoms for your own good and, I suspect, too close for your preference as well.”
“Pearl and Netta were more protective than I wanted them to be.” Taylor couldn’t help thinking that, at the moment, she might welcome some of that protectiveness against the trials and troubles of life.
“To be sure, they behaved thus toward you out of the most loving motives. I would not want my comments to be interpreted as criticism of those sweet ladies. They were totally devoted to you. It is nonetheless also true that a caged bird knows less contentment than would be the case were he allowed to fly free. Tranquillity and contentment are among the supreme imperatives in life. Would you not agree?”
“Yes, I would agree,” Taylor said, nodding thanks for another replenishment of her teacup.
“You have, most unfortunately, found little tranquillity on our island, either in the past or the present.”
Taylor sighed. “That is also true.” Winona’s mention of the past brought something else to mind. “By the way, do you know a man named Lewt Walgreen?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
Winona thought a moment then shook her head. “I expect I would remember such a distinctive name had I ever heard it. Why do you ask?”
“He was at the café with Des this morning. Walgreen said he knew my family well, especially my mother. I thought that, since you were close to them too, you might have run into him.”
“What does he look like?”
“Curly, silver hair. Deep tan. Probably in his late fifties. Rather eccentric in his dress.”
“That would describe a great many men in Key West, my dear. Was there any other distinguishing quality or detail you might have noted?”
“Yes, now that you mention it, there was. He had a tattoo on the back of his hand.” Taylor thought a moment. “His right hand, I think.”
“Another very common sight in the Keys, I regret to say.”
There was a knock at Taylor’s half-opened door. Early thrust his head inside. “Is this a no-boys-allowed gathering or can I join you?”
“Come in, Early,” Taylor said.
“Did I miss anything while I was out?” he asked.
“We had a rather disquieting visit from that police detective,” Winona said, glancing at Taylor. “But we will not speak further of that at the moment. We were just now discussing a gentleman Taylor met at Mr. Maxwell’s establishment this morning. Though, perhaps from her description, I deduce that he is not as much a gentleman as one might hope for.”
“What’s his name?”
“What did you call him, my dear?”
“Lewt Walgreen was the name he gave me.”
Early snorted his obvious disapproval. “I’ll bet he’s a Lewt all right, just like that bar-bum friend of his.”
“Now, Early,” Winona said in an admonishing tone. “I have just been speaking about how outside the bounds of appropriateness it is for you and me to berate Mr. Maxwell or in any way to criticize the choices of a young woman fully mature enough to make such decisions on her own.”
“So you told me already.” Early both looked and sounded skeptical.
“And you would do well to listen.” Winona rose from the edge of the bed with a rustle of white silk. She took Taylor’s cup from her hand and put it on the tray. “Now, if you will excuse us, I am going to encourage this lovely child to take a small nap. She is looking quite done in. Wouldn’t you agree, Early?”
“I wouldn’t doubt she’s done in after going off wandering all over this island at the crack of dawn.”
“Now, Early, that will be entirely enough of your grumbling,” Winona said as she shooed him toward the door. “I can see that you are in need of more than a little instruction in the art of allowing the bird to fly free.” She looked back at Taylor. “Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”
Taylor nodded. She couldn’t help smiling at the sight of stubborn, hardheaded Early being whisked from the room by a delicate-looking woman in white silk. Taylor also couldn’t help feeling quite tired. The bicycle ride had used muscles too long dormant, not to mention the wear and tear this still-young day had already exerted on her emotions. Winona’s suggestion of a nap was growing more and more appealing.
Taylor leaned back into the pillows and surveyed the lovely room with its soft, soothing colors. She imagined Winona had meant it to reflect the kind of tranquillity she talked about before. Taylor’s life had been sorely lacking that kind of peacefulness for what felt like a very long time now. When Winona returned to the bedside and began to stroke Taylor’s forehead ever so gently, she found herself wishing she could be more like this serene woman someday.
Chapter Eleven
Des waited as long as he could manage before going to the Starlings’, which he knew probably wasn’t as long as he should have. Taylor had made it very clear, when she left the café, that she wasn’t interested in talking to him. She’d said she didn’t trust him. He couldn’t really blame her for feeling that way, especially after the stunt he’d pulled this morning. She had every right to know that this joker Walgreen claimed to be her long-lost father, Paul Bissett. Des had intended to make him prove it, but Taylor showed up before Des could find out enough to arrive at a determination one way or the other. Then he’d pulled that fool move of lying about the whole thing. At the time, he had figured she’d be upset by hearing Walgreen’s story. If that story turned out to be untrue, she would have been upset for no reason. Des had thought he was protecting her by shielding her from possible unnecessary pain. Now, he knew he’d made a bad mistake. He had to unmake it if he could.
He parked the Jeep on the corner, several houses away from Winona Starling’s. He’d gotten into the habit of doing that in the course of his secret visits to Taylor’s room. He might have tried that same clandestine route up to the outside balcony now, but he saw Jethro lounging on the front porch glider. There was no way Des could get down the side path next to the house, up the outside stairs to the second floor and across the balcony without Jethro seeing or at least hearing him. Des also definitely could not get away with a repeat of the skylight stunt he’d pulled last night. He couldn’t help smiling at the thought, anyway. He’d never done anything that crazy just to get to a woman. Maybe he should say he’d never had a woman drive him crazy enough to try. Either that or he’d been watching too many Indiana Jones movies for his own good. Des walked up the steps to the Starlings’ grand veranda, thinking he could use a little Indiana in himself right now for facing Winona and Early on their turf.
“How’s it going, Des?” Jethro asked, darting up from the porch swing so abruptly that he set the chain clanking.
“Not bad, Jethro. How’s it going with you?”
“Lucky as always, Des. I make it a point always to have my luck with me.”
“That’s good,” Des said as he moved to ring the doorbell.
Jethro was always carrying on about his luck. Des had never seen any particular sign of Jethro’s supposed good fortune, except that his mother supported him so he’d never in his life had to work a regular job. Maybe that was what Jethro thought of as lucky. There were a lot of guys who would agree with him. Des didn’t happen to be one of them.
“I suppose you’re here to see Taylor.” Early was at the screen door before Des could ring the bell.
“That’s right. And I suppose you’re h
ere to stop me.”
Early looked down his skinny nose, which was hard to do since Des was the taller of the two of them. “If I had my way, that’s exactly what I would do,” Early said. “But Winona’s gone soft on me and says I shouldn’t interfere.”
“That is precisely correct, Early.” Winona appeared next to Early. She was all in white as always, just one of the many affectations of hers that Des couldn’t stand. “The poor child has been sleeping,” she said to Des, “but she may have awakened by now. Early, would you please do me the service of going upstairs to ascertain that for us?”
Des had to restrain himself from crying out his objections. He didn’t want Rhinelander going up there with that key of his again. Instead, Des said, “Thank you,” to Winona. He hadn’t expected to get to Taylor this easily. He had to be careful not to screw up that surprise advantage.
“You may step inside out of the midday sun if you wish, Mr. Maxwell.”
He was actually standing in the shade of the veranda with its cooling ceiling fans that kept the air moving and the bugs away. He would have preferred to wait for Taylor out here, but again he didn’t want to upset this unaccustomed equilibrium between Winona and himself. He opened the door and entered the foyer. As he did so the age-old story of the spider and the fly came to mind. Winona didn’t invite him into her parlor, however, though she did remain in the foyer with him while he waited. Des wondered how much of an effort that courtesy might be for her. Winona’s unrelenting smile gave no indication of the answer.
Meanwhile, Des was growing more and more agitated the longer Early spent upstairs. “Maybe you should find out what’s going on,” he said finally, unable to maintain his cool demeanor another minute.
Just then, Early appeared at the stairway landing. “She’s on her way,” he said, looking pointedly only at Winona. Then, to add to Des’s frustration, Early went back upstairs instead of coming down.
“Early’s room is situated on the opposite hall from Taylor’s,” Winona said. “I expect that’s where he’s headed.”