Key West Heat

by Alice Orr

  Taylor thought for a moment. The detective wasn’t going to be content until she gave him some kind of response. “Irresistible impulse?” she ventured. She’d read about that in some court-case article or other.

  Santos nodded his head.

  Here comes the sarcasm, Taylor thought.

  “That might be closer to the truth than you think,” he surprised her by saying.

  Taylor nodded in return. She hesitated a moment before asking the scariest question of all. “What are the charges against me?”

  “Could be Reckless Driving or Public Endangerment. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “When are you going to make that decision?”

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  Taylor just barely kept herself from gasping. There was an even scarier question she hadn’t anticipated. “Does that mean I have to spend the night in jail?”

  Santos turned back toward his desk blotter, picked up his notebook and heaved a long sigh. “I’m going to let you go on your own recognizance for now.”

  “Thank you,” Taylor said. She could not recall ever having said those two words more sincerely. “Does that mean I can go?”

  Santos pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, you can go now.”

  Taylor stood up from her chair. Her legs felt a little shaky. Santos stood up, too. He didn’t look shaky at all. He did look as if he had something weighty and unresolved on his mind. He shoved his notebook into his pocket.

  “Don’t make me sorry for doing this,” he said.

  “I won’t,” Taylor replied. Then she hurried out of the room as fast as she could go, short of breaking into a dead run.

  Des was speaking to the desk sergeant in the reception area. Actually, he was arguing with him. Taylor could hear it all the way across the room.

  “I demand to see Taylor Bissett,” Des was saying in a growl that would intimidate just about anyone, even an officer of the law who was wearing a gun. “If you bulls have violated her rights in any way, I’m going to make sure she sues every last one of you for every penny you’re worth.”

  Taylor hurried toward Des. He spotted her when she was about halfway across the floor and rushed to her side.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “Are they pressing charges? What’s going on?”

  “I’m fine, and there are no formal charges yet. That could happen tomorrow. For now, Santos has released me on my own recognizance.”

  “Maybe you’d rather I let her go in your custody, Maxwell.” Santos had followed Taylor out of his office. His customary sarcastic manner had come along with him. She wondered why he had let down that sharply barbed guard with her before, if only for a few minutes.

  “Didn’t Ms. Bissett tell you she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself?” Des asked.

  Santos half smiled, half sneered. “I seem to remember hearing that from her.”

  “Good,” Des said.

  Taylor grabbed Des’s arm and hustled him toward the door. She didn’t want him aggravating Santos. Maybe that could get her locked up after all. She managed a goodbye smile at Santos and another thank-you before hurrying Des out of the station.

  “Let’s get away from this place as fast as we can,” she said when they were in the parking lot.

  The Key West Police were housed in a long, low white-stucco building with a balcony running the full length of the second story and palm trees all around. The place looked more like a resort hotel than an institutional structure. Des pulled Taylor aside between two parked patrol cars. She thought for a moment that he was going to take her in his arms. She wondered how she would react if he did. Instead, he leaned close and spoke to her in a muffled voice.

  “They have Lewt in custody,” he said.

  “What?” His blunt statement was so unexpected that she had trouble taking it in.

  “Lewt Walgreen. The guy who says he’s your father. They’ve arrested him.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it might be something to do with his claim to be Paul Bissett. Maybe that old navy desertion.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “I overheard it when I was inside waiting for you. The cops don’t know about his connection to you yet. They’ve got him pegged as a drifter who’s been living under an assumed name in a rented room. Somebody apparently called in an anonymous tip on him.”

  “I want to see him.”

  Taylor started back toward the door to the station house, but Des caught up with her and took her arm. “You can’t go back in there,” he said. “Santos might see you and start asking questions you’re not ready to answer.”

  Taylor stopped trying to walk out of Des’s grasp. He was making a valid point. “But I need to talk to Walgreen,” she said. That was also true, though she wasn’t sure how wise it might be.

  “Then let’s go straight to the lockup. It’s over this way.”

  Taylor followed Des across the parking lot toward a separate section of the building, wondering how he’d come to know so much about the layout of the local jail.

  * * *

  THE GUARD LET Des and Taylor into the interview room together. Des had claimed to be a cousin of Walgreen’s and that Taylor was a family friend. The Key West jail system was almost as easygoing as the rest of the island, so the sergeant in charge didn’t question them further, especially when Walgreen said he’d accept the visit. Des would have tried to talk Taylor out of this if he thought there was any chance she’d listen. She’d been through enough already today. Short of talking her out of it, he’d at least had to insist on coming along. They sat down at the long, gray Formica table and waited.

  Des could tell she didn’t want to talk right now. He understood that. He’d lost every parent figure he ever had in his life—his mother, his father, Desiree, Uncle Murph, now even Violetta. He could imagine how shaken he would feel if one of them was suddenly restored to him, especially under these circumstances. Des longed to take Taylor in his arms and comfort her. He was about to reach out, if only to take her hand for a moment, when the door at the far end of the room opened and Lewt Walgreen walked in. Tension drew Taylor’s features taut. Des decided it would be best not to touch her right now.

  Lewt walked steadily toward them. He was wearing his street clothes. They let prisoners do that while they were still in the holding cells. His eyes were remarkably clear and looked directly at Taylor. Des recognized the love in Lewt’s eyes. Des also recognized that Taylor probably wasn’t interested in receiving that love right now. Everything about her at the moment—the thin line of her pale lips, the rigid posture of her spine—indicated resistance and, as might be expected, anger. Des hoped Lewt’s expectations weren’t too high. Most of all, Des hoped Taylor wouldn’t be hurt anymore than was already her heritage. The slimness of that probability urged him to inch his chair closer to hers. Lewt sat down in the chair opposite them on the other side of the table. The guards had left them alone in the room. Lewt was obviously not considered a high-risk criminal.

  “Hello, Taylor,” Lewt said.

  Taylor didn’t reply. She stared at Lewt. Her eyes were shining, but she didn’t cry.

  “I know that you must be feeling very confused right now,” Lewt began.

  “What am I supposed to call you, anyway?” Taylor snapped.

  “I don’t expect you to call me your father, if that’s what you’re asking,” Lewt said softly.

  “Good. You don’t have the right to expect anything from me.”

  “I know that.”

  Des had never in his life been in the presence of such terrible tension. Under other circumstances, he would have exited this emotional cauldron as fast as he could fly. He stayed now because he knew Taylor needed him to, and maybe because the time had come for him to stop flying away.

  “Where were you? Where did you go? Where have you been?” Taylor cried out.

  The anguish in her voice cut to Des’s soul. He could no longe
r keep himself from reaching out to her. He put his hand on her arm. She didn’t push it away.

  “I shipped out,” Lewt said. He looked as if he might want to hide his head in shame, but was forcing himself not to do that. He kept his face, and himself, vulnerable to her. “I went to sea on the first freighter I could find.”

  “You shipped out, all right.” Taylor’s arm muscle was tight beneath Des’s consoling touch. “You left my mother. You left me. Why did you do that?”

  Lewt sighed. “I was just a boy. I didn’t know where I fit in, or what I was supposed to do. Pearl and Netta had come down here because they didn’t trust Desiree. They thought she was after the family money. I knew she wasn’t like that, but my aunts had been the only mothers I’d ever known. I was caught in the middle and too young to handle it.” Lewt paused for a moment. “I have lived to regret what I did more times than I can count. I wasn’t much of a husband. I wasn’t much of a father. I wasn’t much of a man.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me about that.” Taylor wasn’t going to let him off the hook even a little bit.

  “I didn’t intend to stay away forever,” Lewt said. “I know you may not believe that, but it’s true. I needed some time to grow up. Your mother was way too much woman for me. She knew it, and I knew it. I thought that with some time and distance between us I might get myself together enough to make up for that difference. Then I could come back.”

  “But you never did come back, did you?” Taylor said.

  “Yes, I did, but by then it was too late. The fire had happened. Your mother was dead. Pearl had taken you back north. Only Netta was left.”

  “Why didn’t you get in touch with her, or with Aunt Pearl, or with me?” Taylor was calmer now, but Des could still hear the edge of anguish in her voice.

  “I’m not sure why I did or didn’t do anything just then,” Lewt said. This time he did look down at his hands, maybe to hide the sorrow Des had glimpsed in his eyes. “I went a little crazy, I guess. Crazy with grief. One of the things I’d realized while I was out at sea was how very much I loved my wife and my little girl. I came back here to beg Desiree’s forgiveness—and yours, too. I was ready to do anything to make it right for us again, so we could be a family.”

  “But you stayed away too long,” Taylor said. She was calmer still, now. Des could almost see her clamping the lid down over the wrenching emotions she had to be feeling. He recognized that behavior because he’d resorted to it so many times himself.

  “Too long,” Lewt echoed. He wasn’t anywhere near as skillful as Taylor at hiding his torment. It trembled in every syllable he spoke. “I had hoped for a second chance, but I was too late.”

  “Why didn’t you come north after me?”

  Lewt sighed again, even deeper this time. He’d been staring at his hands for the last several moments. He looked up now. His cheeks were wet with tears. Des’s heart was touched with such a sharp pang of poignancy that he had to look away. He was aware of being witness to a tragedy created by one man’s inability to face the tough emotional times of life. Des was also aware, all of a sudden, of his own tendency toward that same kind of emotional cowardice. He prayed it wouldn’t turn out to be too late for him, like it had for this poor guy who was now obviously struggling to speak.

  “Why didn’t you come for me?” Taylor repeated.

  “I heard that you were all messed up by what happened,” Lewt managed. “I was so down on myself right then, I figured the last person you needed in your life was a loser like me.”

  Taylor stood up, pushing her chair back from the table. Des’s hand was still on her arm, but she didn’t seem to notice it there. “That continues to be true,” she said. “The last person I need in my life is you.”

  * * *

  IT WAS SUNSET by the time Des brought Taylor back to Elizabeth Street. It occurred to her that Key West was famous for these sunsets. Tourists flocked to watch them from the dock downtown and along the westward shore. She had heard they even celebrated the event with a toast or two. Yet, since she’d been here, she hadn’t seen a single one of them in anything like its renowned glory. She was destined to miss tonight’s as well, and she certainly wasn’t about to do any celebrating.

  Winona was a dear. She seemed to understand exactly what Taylor was feeling. Almost before she’d heard the details of Taylor’s traumatic day, Winona had prescribed a tray in bed and immediate rest. Even Des agreed with that. Taylor obliged them both without question and went upstairs after the briefest goodbye to Des. She wanted to tell him how grateful she’d been to have him at her side during that grueling scene with her father. However, gratitude would have to wait until tomorrow. She was too emotionally drained right now to get even those words out.

  She climbed the stairs slowly, consciously summoning the energy for each step. She was vaguely aware of Early moving toward the staircase to help her and Winona holding him back, telling him that Taylor needed to be alone right now. Taylor was grateful for that as well. She would have lots of thank-yous owing in the morning. For now, she had to get herself up these stairs and into her room. That was all she could manage this evening.

  She did accomplish that feat and closed the door behind her with an exhalation of relief. The scent of herbs, flowers and fresh linens perfumed the air ever so lightly. Taylor felt as if she had found sanctuary here, where the soft, lovely colors were so much in contrast with the harsh realities of what had happened to her since she was last in this room. Winona had left a lamp lit on the white-and-gold antiqued table next to the bed. Its glow was muted and of a creamy tint. Taylor was so relieved to sit down on the bed in the circle of that gentle lamplight that she almost cried, but she knew she mustn’t do that. If the tears began, they might never stop. She feared the bottomlessness of their well of grief.

  She was almost glad to have such emotionally perilous thoughts interrupted by a knock at the door. She was so tired, she didn’t get up to respond but called out from where she sat, “Come in.”

  She might have expected Winona with the supper tray she’d mentioned, or even Early hurrying up here the minute Winona’s back was turned to make certain Taylor was all right. She didn’t expect it to be Des, not by this inside door, at least. She also did not expect her visitor to be Jethro. He eased the door open and stuck his head cautiously inside.

  “I have to talk to you for just a minute,” he said in a voice that was even more nervous than usual.

  Taylor pushed herself up from the bed, though she would have much preferred to stay there sinking deeper into the folds of the downy comforter. Unfortunately, it was more important that she get to the door before Jethro could actually step into the room. She absolutely was not equal to a conversation with him right now. Even more unfortunately, she didn’t move fast enough to accomplish her goal. Jethro had slipped his tall, narrow body through the opening and shut the door behind him before she could make it across the floor.

  “Do you have that card I gave you?” he asked in a stage whisper, as if he might think he would disturb her less if he didn’t speak out loud.

  “What card?” Taylor had no idea what he could be talking about, and she was indeed disturbed.

  “The card I gave you the other night. The one with my psychic’s name on it. Madame Leopold. I want to make sure you still have it. You really need it now, more than ever.”

  Taylor could hardly believe this was happening. Yes, she did remember the card incident. She hadn’t wanted Jethro bothering her then, either.

  “Do you have it? Did you keep the card I gave you?” he persisted.

  “I’m not sure,” Taylor said. “I may have it here somewhere.”

  “Don’t you know? You have to know.”

  He took a step toward her, and she noticed how agitated he looked. His dark hair was in disarray, as if he hadn’t combed it in a long time or had been raking his fingers through it. His movements were even more spastic and darting than usual. His eyes were keeping frenzied pace with th
ose movements, flitting from one end of the room to the other, as if he had to keep a vigilant watch in all directions.

  Taylor hadn’t thought much about Jethro. The few days since she’d met him had been too full and frantic to allow time for thinking about anything beyond the trauma and drama of the moment. She had noticed in passing that Jethro was something of an odd duck. Now it occurred to her to wonder if he might be even more odd than she had realized. In the first place, he was a bit old to be still living with his mother. Though he drove a new sports car and wore expensive clothes, he didn’t appear to work at anything other than the occasional errand for Winona. Could there be something wrong with him mentally? Was Winona actually his caretaker because he couldn’t live in the adult world on his own? It would certainly be like her to take on that role. But, how much care did Jethro in fact need? In other words, was he dangerous?

  Taylor resisted the impulse to step backward away from him, but she did speak to him in a firm voice. “You have to leave now, Jethro.”

  “I need to know if you have the card. It’s really important. Nothing could be more important.”

  Taylor forced herself to stay calm. She didn’t want to do anything to increase his already apparent overexcitement. “I think I might have it,” she said. “I’ll look in the morning.”

  “That’s not good enough,” he said, darting closer.

  Taylor did take a step backward now. She didn’t like that he was between her and the door.

  “I’ll find the card in the morning. I promise.”

  “I told you that wasn’t good enough,” he blurted. “I’ll give you another one.” He pulled a white business card from his pants pocket and thrust it at Taylor, just as he had done that other time.

  She took it. “Thank you, Jethro. I appreciate this. Really, I do. But right now I need to get some sleep and—”

  “You have no idea what you need,” he snapped. “You need this, woman.” He jabbed his long, skinny index finger at the card she was holding. “You need her to get your luck back for you as soon as she can. If you don’t do that, I can’t be responsible for what happens to you.”