After I Dream

by Lee, Rachel

  Which was why, when psychologists needed therapy, they turned to their colleagues. So maybe she wasn’t an utter failure just because she’d been so blind to her own problems. Maybe.

  When she walked out to make breakfast, she was determined to treat both Jeff and Chase better, and to stop letting her fears rule her.

  However, she couldn’t make breakfast. Chase and Jeff were already doing that.

  She looked around at the pancake batter, the frying bacon, the freshly baked biscuits and the beaten eggs. “How many stevedores are we expecting for breakfast?”

  Chase chuckled and Jeff laughed. When her eyes met Chase’s she felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Something in his expression gentled infinitesimally, and she felt a huge relief that he wasn’t upset about the way she had acted last night.

  “I’m hungry, sis,” Jeff said, flipping a pancake on the griddle. “You know how I always love those breakfast buffets? Well, I figured we could have one at home.”

  “I trust you’re going to eat all that?”

  “Nah. I’ll leave a little for you and Chase.”

  She felt herself smiling, and it was the most natural smile that had come to her face in ages. Why, she wondered, did she feel so much better when nothing at all had changed? The murder charges were still hanging over her and Jeff like a cloud of doom.

  But she felt better anyway, almost as if a dreaded moment had arrived and she had found herself ready to face it. One thing for sure: She was ready for action.

  “I’ll even clean up,” Jeff said. “See how good I am?”

  “I’ll do it,” Callie offered. “You’re cooking.”

  “Hey, it’s a good excuse not to start painting right away.”

  Jeff was feeling better, too, she realized. Maybe because she and Chase had included him last night when they discussed their suspicions and the little information they had. Maybe he was just glad to feel he was going to be part of the solution. She could understand that.

  Jeff waved her to the table, so she sat, then thanked him when he brought her a glass of orange juice.

  “You know what we haven’t done in a long time?” Jeff said as he flipped the pancake onto a plate, then poured more batter. “We haven’t had a cutup.”

  “I’m not sure anybody does that anymore,” Callie said. “It’s been years since I even heard of one.”

  “Well, we ought to do it. I’ll bet some of the people from church would come.”

  If they didn’t think Jeff was a murderer, she thought with trepidation.

  “Maybe after I get this murder thing gone,” Jeff said. “I’d like Sara to come.”

  “Sara?”

  “The girl I met. She called this morning.”

  That explained his mood, Callie thought. “I’m glad.” It was hard to say, but at least today she meant it. Yesterday she probably wouldn’t have. God, what a bitch she’d become.

  Jeff looked at her. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Good, because she’s coming out this afternoon to help me paint.”

  “Now that’s really good,” Callie said. “I’m all for extra helping hands.”

  “What in the world is a cutup?” Chase asked when he could get a word in.

  “Oh!” Callie turned to him. “It’s an old Keys tradition. A bunch of people get together. Everybody brings a piece or two of fruit from their own yards. I’ve got limes and guavas. out back, somebody would bring papayas—you get the idea. Everybody helps cut it up into small pieces in a bowl, we squeeze lime juice all over it, and let it soak for a few hours while everyone plays and gabs.”

  “Then comes the fun part,” Jeff said. “When the cutup is ready, we draw numbers from a hat. Then everybody in order gets to take one piece of fruit until it’s all gone. The last person gets to drink the juice.” He smacked his lips. “It’s really good.”

  He looked at Callie. “We used to do that all the time with the folks from church. But lately we haven’t been going very regularly.”

  “I know. I guess we should start going again.” Thinking about it, she realized it had been nearly six months since she’d gone to church, and before that, her attendance had been spotty for a couple of years. It was as if she’d been withdrawing from everything, especially since Jeff had started to become so headstrong lately. Depression. Jeez, she’d been suffering from depression.

  And now it was gone. For no reason at all. But that was depression.

  “Sounds like fun,” Chase said. “You’ll have to invite me.”

  “Sure,” Jeff agreed.

  “If anybody else even remembers what a cutup is,” Callie remarked. “They even stopped having them at church five or six years ago. Too many new people from out of the Keys, and not enough old Conchs left, I guess.”

  “So let’s start the tradition again.”

  She smiled at Jeff, feeling her heart lift at his good spirits. Even if it killed her, she was going to be nice to Sara, if the girl could make him feel this good.

  Jeff loaded the food onto the table while Chase put out plates and flatware. Everybody dug in, and both Chase and Jeff made a fair-sized dent in all the food.

  “When did you learn to make biscuits this good?” Callie asked her brother.

  “I read the directions on the biscuit-mix box.”

  “Well, you can do it from now on. I hate making them.”

  “It’s easy, sis.”

  “It’s messy.”

  “It’s still easy.”

  Chase was smiling at the two of them, and for a few minutes it honestly seemed as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

  But inevitably the conversation came back around to the murders. Jeff was the one who brought it up, speaking to Chase.

  “If those gas suppliers don’t call you back, what do we do next?”

  “I’m not even going to wait that long,” Chase said. “I’m thinking about calling the jeweler who owned The Happy Maggie.”

  Callie looked up from her plate. “How come?”

  “I want to ask him what happened. It occurred to me last night that he might have been telling the truth about how the boat went down. The report didn’t give a whole lot of details, just that he claimed he hit an underwater obstacle. Bill said it looked like there was a fire and explosion in the bilge. Now, if someone was willing to lie about those diamonds being there, why wouldn’t he lie about the damage to the boat?”

  “But what would be the point in that?”

  “To build an even stronger case against Bruderson for insurance fraud. If he got convicted for fraud, nobody’d ever look any further for those diamonds.”

  Callie put her fork down and leaned back from the table. Her scalp was beginning to prickle. “I don’t like the sound of this, Chase. I mean… if they’re willing to go to these lengths to tie up loose ends, even loose ends like Bruderson, then maybe the three of us are loose ends, too. What if they’ve heard we’re poking around about this? What if one of those places you called yesterday calls these divers and tells them you’re asking about them? They’ll know we’ve made the connection.”

  “The thought crossed my mind. Which is why I’m not going to let any more moss grow under my feet over this. For now, I need to get back to my place to see if anyone’s called and get a change of clothes and a shower. Then I’m calling Bruderson. You can come with me, if you want.”

  Callie wanted, and so did Jeff. They did a quick job of cleanup, everyone pitching in, then they walked briskly over to Chase’s house.

  At his door, he started to put the key in the lock when he noticed the door wasn’t fully latched. “Well, hell,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?” Callie asked.

  “I thought I locked this damn door last night.” He gave it a push and it swung open.

  Callie’s heart took a plunge. “Chase, be careful. Somebody might be in there.”

  He glanced at her and nodded. “You two back away in case somebody comes running out. Just get clear.”
r />   “You shouldn’t go in there alone,” Jeff argued in a whisper.

  Chase shook his head. “I’ve had training for this kind of thing. You haven’t. I don’t want to have to look out for you, too.”

  “Come on, Jeff,” Callie said. “The best way we can help is to stay dear.”

  Jeff’s expression was mutinous, but he went with Callie around the side of the’house.

  Chase noticed two things & Callie and Jeff moved away. The first was that all the lights were out. He knew damn well that he’d left them on night.

  The second thing was that the Beretta was no longer on the table where he’d left it. Shit. If someone was in there, they probably had the gun. And by now they knew he was coming in, because he had to have heard the three of them talking at the door.

  Armed and dangerous. The words floated through his mind as he stepped into the house. The morning sunlight alleviated some of the gloom inside, but not all of it. He could feel the pressure of the shadows, as if they were trying to break free of confinement, but he forced himself to ignore it. He had a far more serious problem right now than any his neurosis could present. And a far more serious threat than the darkness.

  Now he feared what might be in the darkness of the shadowy places in his house.

  Moving as silently as he could, keeping near the walls, he scanned the open living area, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen. Nothing there. He made his way down the hallway to the bedroom and found the door wide-open. At least there were some mercies, he thought. At least he didn’t have to open that door wondering what was behind it.

  Nothing. A check of the closets and the bathroom revealed the same thing. Nothing.

  Outside again, he walked around the house, looking for some indication of where his visitors had come from, but the caprock was hard where it was bare, and the dead leaves on the ground revealed nothing. As dry as it had been, his driveway didn’t show evidence of tire tracks. Remembering his intention to search the woods for evidence of the person who was doing the red eyes thing to him, he wandered a way up into the hammock, but found the ground too hard and too thick with dead leaves to reveal anything.

  “Hell,” he said as he came back to the house.

  Callie and Jeff, who had been watching him from the seawall, joined him.

  “Was anything taken?” she asked.

  “My gun.”

  She drew a sharp breath. “You’d better call the police.”

  Back inside, that was the first thing he did.

  “I’d better go,” Jeff said when Chase hung up the phone. “I’m going to be the first person they suspect.”

  Callie looked at him. “Why? You were with us all night. You don’t have to run and hide from the cops just because you’ve been charged with a crime you didn’t commit.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Chase agreed. “Never, ever hang your head in shame for something you didn’t do.”

  Jeff’s chin came up, and Callie thought he straightened. “You’re right,” her brother said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  While they were waiting for the cops to arrive, Chase decided to go ahead and try to locate Olaf Bruderson, the jeweler who owned The Happy Maggie,

  Bruderson’s Jewelry in Miami had four stores. He tried them one after another, but no one seemed very eager to tell him how to reach the owner. On the last call, Chase pressed harder.

  “Look, just tell Mr. Bruderson I have reason to believe the missing diamonds were on his boat. Have him call me if he’s interested. He can either talk to me or Calypso Carlson.” He left both his number and Callie’s.

  “You know,” he said when he hung up the phone, “I’m glad I’m not a cop or a private investigator. Trying to get a little information is turning out to be the most frustrating thing I’ve ever done.”

  Jeff and Callie were standing in the center of the living room, being careful not to touch anything.

  “I’d make us some coffee,” Chase said, “but I don’t want to move anything.”

  “Maybe we should just wait on the porch,” Callie suggested. “The less time we spend in here, the less likely we are to disturb something.”

  Ten minutes later, Fred Markell pulled up in his white-and-green patrol car and climbed out. Callie was less than thrilled to see him come around the porch and look up at them.

  “Hi, Callie,” he said. “Hi, Jeff.”

  Jeff wouldn’t even look at him. Callie returned his greeting coolly. They might have been friends in high school, but she didn’t much like him since the day he’d served the warrant on her, then lied to her about nothing being taken. Although, she admitted fairly, maybe Fred hadn’t known that Jeff’s clothes had been taken. There had been five or six deputies searching the house.

  Chase explained about the missing gun and the unlocked door. Fred wrote it all down.

  “Anything else missing?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Chase replied. “Not that I checked everything. I didn’t want to disturb things.”

  “Good.” Fred nodded approvingly. “Nothing messed up?”

  “Not that I could see.”

  “Well, it was probably a crime of opportunity then,” Fred said. “Somebody happened along, saw no one was at home, saw the gun on the table, broke in and took it. Probably all they wanted.”

  “Looks that way,” Chase agreed.

  “You happen to have the gun’s serial number?”

  Chase went into the house to get it, while Callie and Jeff remained on the porch. Nobody said anything.

  Fred rocked on his heels, looking seriously uncomfortable. Finally he cleared his throat. “I don’t think you did it, Jeff.”

  Callie looked at Fred in astonishment, and saw that Jeff was doing the same.

  “Uh… thanks,” Jeff said finally.

  Fred shrugged. “You just aren’t the type. Besides, there’s a lot of unanswered questions on that case. You hang in there, boy. We’re still looking for those divers.”

  Callie felt herself warming to Fred. “Thanks, Fred. I thought you’d close the case.”

  The deputy shook his head. “Too many questions. This is just my personal opinion, mind you, but they couldn’t convict you on that load of crap they got right now. You got nothing to worry about.”

  Callie didn’t agree with him there. As long as her brother was charged with murder, they had plenty to worry about.

  Chase returned with the papers for the gun, and Fred took down the full description and the serial number.

  “They’ll be someone out later to dust for prints and stuff, but they probably won’t find anything useful,” Fred said. “Some kid probably took it and’ll sell it quick. Five or six people later, it’ll turn up in a crime somewhere, I reckon.”

  “I’ll leave the place unlocked,” Chase said. “In case I’m not here when the crime-scene guys come. Just tell them to come right in.”

  After Markell left, Chase spoke. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “What?”

  “That five or six people later it’ll turn up in a crime somewhere.”

  “It probably will.” She looked at him curiously. “Why? What do you think is going on?”

  “I’m just thinking how easy it would be to use that gun to link me to a crime scene.”

  “Oh, God! But they couldn’t now, Chase. You’ve reported it stolen.”

  “There was still last night.”

  “But you were with us.”

  “But whoever took the gun doesn’t know that.” His expression was grim. “I’m liking this less and less, and I didn’t like it very much to begin with.”

  “I’ve got to go back to the house,” Jeff said suddenly. “Sara will be here soon.”

  “Go ahead,” Callie said. “I want to wait here to see if the jeweler calls back.”

  “Okay.”

  Callie listened for the phone while Chase showered. When he emerged twenty minutes later, he was toweling his dark hair and wearing a white
shirt and white shorts. From the start Callie had noticed how good he looked in shorts, but after their kiss last night, she found herself noticing him in an entirely different way. Her hands were absolutely itching to touch him, and she had to remind herself that she had enough problems in her life without taking on Chase’s.

  But the heat of the tropical day seemed to be creeping into her bloodstream, making her feel heavy, almost sleepy, except for a tingling down low that reminded her she was a young, healthy woman with all the needs of one. What a direction for her thoughts to take in the midst of all this! It embarrassed her, and made her feel ashamed somehow.

  The phone rang and Chase grabbed it, letting the towel drape over his shoulder. “Mattingly,” he said into the receiver.

  Callie sat on the edge of her seat, then deflated as he continued.

  “What’s up, Tom? Yeah? Christ…” He listened for a few minutes. “Yeah, I will. And you, too, buddy. You were there, too.” He hung up and turned to Callie. “That was Tom Akers.”

  She nodded.

  “Bill was murdered. The cops say he was shot in the back of the head.”

  Callie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Chase…”

  “I know, I know. Tom said the same thing. He told me to watch my back. I told him to watch his. He was there, too.”

  She rose from the couch, suddenly feeling icy cold, and began to pace. “Too many coincidences,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s just too damn much, Chase.”

  “It sure is.”

  She stopped pacing and looked at him, feeling the worst urge to have his arms around her, as if they could shelter her from all of this. But nobody’s arms could do that, and she knew it.

  He must have read her expression, because he closed the small distance between them and drew her into a hug. She felt his chin come to rest on the top of her head as they wrapped their arms around each other. Neither of them said a word, but words wouldn’t have helped a thing.

  “I’m uneasy about leaving Jeff alone,” she said finally. “He found that boat. They might be wondering if he knows something, especially since you live next to us and you’ve started asking questions.”