Allie found her voice. “And your wife? Was she a whore?”
He sat back on the bed, a little closer this time. “Karen—” He pressed his lips together. Began again, “Karen was a butterfly. She didn’t have a bad bone in her, no malice, no greed.” He shrugged. “She had a strong moral code, but it was—different. She would never hit anyone or gossip or envy anyone or miss church.” He smiled a little and settled back against the headboard, his hands lying loosely on the duvet. “We grew up together. She lived with my parents and me—”
At her expression, he held up a hand, saying, “No, nothing like that. She was our housekeeper’s daughter, the sweetest little kid you’d ever want to know. Our housekeeper, Carmelita, didn’t live in the house with us. She had her own cottage on the grounds, so I didn’t get to see much of Karen while we were growing up. Once in a while, she would come to the house with her mother when the babysitter fell through, and she’d follow me around everywhere. Drove me nuts.” A smile touched his lips for an instant, and then faded. “My parents were crazy about the whole family. Well, Carmelita and Karen, anyway. The son, Carlos, lived with his dad in the Keys. There was some bad blood there, but my parents didn’t talk about it.”
He glanced over at Allie. “Am I telling you more than you want to know?”
She shook her head.
“Anyway, Carmelita used to borrow one of dad’s cars every two weeks to go pick up her son and bring him back for the weekend. I didn’t like Carlos. He was a bully. He made his sister’s life a living hell. His mother’s too.” His face darkened with the memory. “Then, on one of Carmelita’s trips, there was an accident. She and Carlos were killed. I thought Karen would go to live with her father then, but my parents moved her into our house. I lived in my own apartment then. Karen must have been—what? Sixteen? Sixteen or seventeen. My parents sat me down in the library and explained that Karen would be living with them. My parents wanted me to treat her as a sister. On one of my visits home, they told me they were thinking of leaving her something in their wills.” He shook his head. “They wanted to know if I minded. I couldn’t believe they asked. It’s not like there wasn’t plenty of money to go around, and by then, I made good money of my own.”
Allie watched his fists clench and unclench on the duvet. “Then, four years ago, my folks were killed in a car crash in almost the same spot as Carmelita.” He shook his head, as she opened her mouth to speak. “It was an accident. Believe me, I checked into it. They had this jazzy truck, a Lincoln Blackwood. You know, half truck, half SUV?” Again, that heartbreaking smile touched his lips. “My dad fancied himself a big, tough truck driver.” The smile vanished abruptly. “A tie rod went out. He lost control and… and they went through a bridge. The police were all over it. No evidence of tampering.”
After a moment, he continued. “Karen went to pieces after that. First, her mom and brother, and then, my folks. I asked her then if she wanted to go back to live with her dad.” His hand dug into the duvet. “I’ll never forget her face.” He shrugged, and his hand slowly relaxed. “That gave me a good idea of the source of the bad blood.”
He fell silent. Allie watched his face while he talked, and she would bet he felt every word he said. She also imagined killers were good liars. “What happened then?”
“When?”
“After your parents died?”
Marc appeared uncomfortable for the first time. “I can’t exactly explain it. I felt—responsible, I guess, for Karen. I called her a butterfly. She would flit from thing to thing without ever lighting. She didn’t know what she wanted to do for a living. She didn’t have to work, of course, but I think time hung heavy on her hands.”
Allie could relate to that.
“She wasn’t the volunteer type, so she played. She started doing some drugs. Started drinking too much. Finally, I asked her to marry me.”
“Why?”
Marc gritted his teeth. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
When Allie watched him, silent, he made an impatient gesture. “I can’t deny that I was attracted to her. She was a beautiful woman. She leaned on me.” He glanced at Allie, then away. “I liked it. Hell, it made me feel like Superman, big and strong and capable. At least at the beginning. I intended to save her from herself—to change her and give her a purpose in life.” He scrubbed his hands down his face. “God, what an idiot I was. She said yes. I don’t think Karen knew how to say no, especially to someone she felt indebted.”
Allie knew the story wasn’t over. “What changed?”
“We’d been married about three months when she started running around again. I didn’t mention that Karen liked men. A lot. The wrong men. I was busy with work and didn’t notice at first. When I did, I told her it had to stop.” He looked at Allie out of the corner of his eye. “I’m ashamed to admit it wasn’t jealousy. I knew by then we’d never have a real marriage, but I was scared to death for her, scared she’d get some kind of disease or run up against someone she couldn’t handle.” They were silent, knowing that was exactly what happened.
Marc let out a long breath. “She tried. I believe she sincerely tried, but it wasn’t in her nature. Butterflies have short lives, so do people like Karen. She picked up some guy in a bar down at the marina, and… .” He glanced down at the clipping on the bed.
“Did anyone see the man she picked up?”
His face went blank. “One guy. He identified him as me.”
“But—”
“But I was out of town at a meeting in front of about two hundred people. It must have been someone who looked like me. Then, I saw you down at the jetty, and you haven’t been out of my sight for more than an hour since the first day I saw you. I knew where you lived. I followed you that day after you found the body.”
“The coffee cup.”
“Your picture was on it. I thought it might be special.”
“It is.”
Allie heard the ding of the elevator, as it stopped on his floor. Soft footsteps in the hall. A door opened and closed, and then more silence. “That day you showed up on my patio?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t expect to find you bleeding. I didn’t see a car in front of your house, but lights were on. It worried me. I decided to check it out from the back, so I parked my car at an apartment building down the road and walked back.”
“What about the day in Cocoa?”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Pure pleasure.”
It was decision time. She still held the gun, although it was lying loosely in her lap now. She could still use it, but she believed every word Marc had told her. He watched her, and the look on his face told Allie he knew what she was thinking.
She wanted to trust him. That’s what it came down to. She felt safe with him. God help her if she was wrong. She felt drawn to him, pulled as if by a magnet… or the moth to the flame. She knew what she would do, right or wrong. She handed him the gun. He dropped it on the floor beside the bed. “It isn’t loaded.”
When she burst into tears, he moved over and opened his arms. She cried until his shirt was soaked and her eyes swollen nearly closed. She cried for all he’d been through, for his losing his parents and then his little butterfly. She cried because the police, including her own friends, harassed him unmercifully when all he tried to do was play knight in shining armor to a troubled young woman. She cried a little bit for herself, too, for the pain of losing her aunt. Oh, she could relate to his loss.
As her sobs turned to hiccups, he pulled away. She watched, as he took the ice bucket and slipped out the door. He returned in a minute and ducked into the bathroom, appearing a moment later with a washcloth in his hand. It felt icy cold and wonderful against her burning face. She remembered how he carried her to the car the day she cut her foot. She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes again, as she said, “You’re always taking care of someone.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Some people are worth it.”
That nearly se
t her off again, but she shook herself. She was tired of crying, and she was tired of being afraid. She picked up a pillow off the bed and hugged it to her. “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice that sounded almost normal.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I suspected you of murder.”
He smiled. “You would have been a fool not to. I would have suspected me, too, if I didn’t know better.”
“I broke into your room.”
He reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I let you break into my room. I knew you had the key.”
Allie pulled back. “You did not.”
“Of course, I did. I saw you when you took it.”
“You couldn’t have,” she said indignantly. “You were up at the bar with your back turned.”
“The bar has a mirror.”
That only stopped her for a second. “Then, why didn’t you get the lock changed?”
“Because I wanted you to come here. I wanted to show you all this.”
“Why go through all this—this ruse—and take a chance that I’d chicken out?”
“It never crossed my mind that you’d chicken out. You aren’t made that way.”
Allie shook her head. “Why didn’t the police find all this when they searched your room?”
“They didn’t search my room. They didn’t have enough to get a warrant.
She still didn’t understand. “Why didn’t you bring it over to the house?”
“And take the chance of having your friends burst in on us with guns drawn?”
She glanced involuntarily at the door.
“Don’t worry. They won’t show up. Levine is at an accident on 520, and Odum is back in Vero trying to get the goods on me.”
“How do—” She closed her eyes. “The police scanner.”
He nodded. “Best money I ever spent. Besides, I was watching. I knew they didn’t follow us.”
“Us? What do you mean us? You weren’t following me.”
He gave a short laugh. “I certainly was. By the way, you were doing near seventy through the conservation area. That could get you in big trouble.”
She shook her head. “No, I watched. I would have passed you coming back.”
Marc smiled. “When you’re trying to lose a tail, don’t signal your turns. The minute I saw that, I pulled into the first driveway and turned around. I picked you up on the way back. You were so sure you weren’t being followed that you never glanced back.”
“You sound like a man who’s had a lot of practice.”
“More than I want,” he said, his mouth grim.
Allie hugged the pillow more tightly. “This has been terrible for you.”
“It could have been worse.”
“How?” she asked skeptically.
“I might have heard about you first on the scanner.”
His words chilled her. Their eyes met, and Allie forced herself to look away. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him. She did. Hadn’t she given him the gun? That spoke volumes. Still, the trust felt too new, too fragile. She started to get to her feet, and her stomach growled.
Marc looked at her. “Dinnertime?”
Allie gave him a wobbly smile. “I think that’s its lunchtime growl.”
“Can I buy you some dinner?”
“Maybe I should buy you dinner. A peace offering. I saw a restaurant downstairs.”
Marc’s smile vanished. “No peace offering is needed, and as much as I’d like to take you to dinner, I’m afraid your friends might see us.”
Allie could feel her own smile fade. “I forgot about them.”
“I’d like to forget about them, but I don’t think we can right now.”
“Don’t you think you should tell them what you’ve found out?”
“My guess is they know. They probably know more than I do by now, and they still want to pin it on me.”
Allie remembered what Sheryl said about Joe wanting Marc to be guilty, but she kept it to herself. “What do you think we should do?”
“I think we should call room service.”
*
They spoke little during dinner. Allie tried to get her head around what Marc had told her about the murdered women. The table and chairs were near the window. There wasn’t enough light to see the water, but Allie stared out as if she could. “Do you have any idea who killed those women?”
“I have some suspicions.”
“Who?”
He shook his head. “You’ll think I’m crazy. I will tell you one thing, though. I think more than one person might be involved here.”
Allie thought about that for a minute. “Some kind of conspiracy?”
He grimaced. “Nothing that organized.” He pushed away his plate. Then, he reached over and took her hand, much as he did that day in the car. His felt warm, hers as cold as death. “I’m still trying to put the pieces together.”
Suddenly, the room felt too small, their closeness uncomfortable. “I have to go,” she said at the same moment he said, “You need to go.” They laughed, and the tension eased. Allie stood, and Marc came around the table. “I’ll follow you home.”
“That’s all we need. Don’t worry. Either Sheryl or Joe will pick up my car the minute I hit A1A. I’ll have a police escort.”
“Be careful,” he said. There was something in his eyes.
She took a step back. “You don’t trust them?”
“I don’t trust anyone, but you and me,” he said, his face grim.
She thought about his words, as she drove home. They disturbed her. How could she not trust Joe and Sheryl? How could she so completely trust this man she only had recently met, a man accused of killing his wife? Joe and Sheryl were officers of the law. Not only that, she knew them.
“People change, Allie.”
“That much? Enough that they could be involved in a murder?”
“People change. Life moves forward, and they change.”
“What should I do, Aunt Lou? Who should I trust?”
“Trust yourself.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Allie demanded. Silence. “Was Rupert Cornelius your lover?” she asked the empty passenger seat. “What about the gun, damn it? Tell me about the gun.” Silence.
Chapter 15
The next day, the stitches came out of Allie’s foot. The swelling was almost gone, and it no longer hurt to put weight on it. The doctor warned her that it would be a few more weeks before she was back to normal, but who cared? She felt like dancing a jig but settled for taking Spook for a long walk on the beach.
Pushing Marc’s suspicions aside, she called Sheryl and invited her to go shopping to celebrate her new mobility. Allie trusted Sheryl implicitly. She would have trusted her if she’d come up on her standing over one of the dead women with a silk scarf wrapped around her hands. If she trusted Joe less, it was probably only because he was a man. Garrison bore responsibility for that.
Those thoughts were disturbing enough that, when Joe appeared on her doorstep that afternoon, her first reaction was alarm. She heard a tap on the door while she was cleaning out the refrigerator. She peeked around the corner and saw Joe’s outline through the frosted jalousies. Drying her hands on a dishtowel, she unlocked the door. Joe stood on the porch, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Either he’d been out in the sun—a lot—or he was embarrassed. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” she said, trying to read his face. It seemed that every time he appeared, it was to impart something she didn’t want to hear. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much.” He kicked at the front step, looking everywhere but at her. “Am I forgiven?”
Allie smiled. He looked so much like a kid trying to gain absolution after pulling some juvenile stunt. “I don’t know. Are you repentant?”
His eyes met hers for the first time. “Boy, am I.”
Allie moved back in invitation, and Joe stepped inside.
“Let me say this real quick,” he sa
id, as if he expected her to stop him. “I know I pissed you off, but what I said about Cornelius wasn’t about jealousy. The man is a prick. He chases everything in skirts, and you’re a whole lot more—” He stopped and blinked, seeming unsure how to continue. Then, he picked up again, “I wouldn’t trust Sheryl in a room with him, and she carries a gun.”
“Sheryl said he’s never tried to hit on her.”
The look he gave her silenced her. “As far as Frederick is concerned—” He shook his head. “I don’t know, Allie. He’s already under suspicion for murder. You know that. Maybe he did it, and maybe he didn’t.” Joe’s face clearly expressed his opinion on the subject. “But give me some credit here. Even if we weren’t looking at him, there are a few other things to consider. He showed up about the same time as the murder here, and I found out that he was in Vero when that woman was killed down there. If his hair was green, and he picked his nose and had sweat sock breath, I’d still warn you away from him.”
Allie made a face. “You wouldn’t have to.”
Joe choked on a laugh. “You know what I mean. What I’m saying is, this isn’t about jealousy. It’s about not wanting to see you dead.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and Allie immediately thought of Marc. “Maybe I went about it wrong. I didn’t have any right to order you to stay away from him. You were right to get uptight about that.”
“I agree.”
He waited for her to say more.
She didn’t. Instead, she studied his face, and what she saw brought it all home. This was Joey O, her buddy. They’d schemed against others as kids, swum together, hunted shells together, and even practiced kissing a time or two. She saw the same things in his face that she’d seen in Sheryl’s. Concern. Friendship. Maybe a little more, but she could ignore that. A part of her wanted to blurt out what Marc was doing, if for no other reason than to put Joe’s mind at ease, but would he believe her?
Finally, he held out his hand. “Still friends?”
She didn’t hesitate. She took his hand and stood on tiptoe, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Still friends.”
He sagged against the wall. “Thank God. I thought I’d blown it this time.”
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