Key West

by Stella Cameron

  She left again and went into the master bedroom. The draperies were wide open. Frank’s rocking chair stood with its back to the French doors, unmoving in the still air. She ought to take it in. The sight of it depressed her.

  A faint sound made her spin around, her hand at her throat. Wimpy had curled up on the pillows—between the pillows—and fixed Sonnie with a baleful stare.

  “Rough life,” Sonnie said. “I suppose one of these days we’re going to have to decide who you belong to.” Promptly, Wimpy jumped from the bed and sat at her feet. The dog looked up and Sonnie shook her head. When she left the bedroom, Wimpy followed, and stayed close behind every step of the way.

  Chris was speaking as she approached the kitchen. “Romano and Sonnie’s sister Billy kept constant vigil. Says so right in the records, and I found a nurse who remembered. She took care of Sonnie part of the time. She told me Romano often sat beside the bed all night, and Billy took over in the morning. The parents came and went but seemed too upset to stay a long time.”

  “And you think you can make this add up to Romano and Billy wanting Sonnie dead?”

  “If she heard voices telling her to die, to go join her baby, who was it most likely to be? A nurse? I don’t think so. And there’s a write-up on the incident when a catheter was found pulled out. It was Billy who raised the alarm—although a staff member had seen a change on a monitor and was already entering the room. Evidently Billy went into hysterics and had to be sedated. She said she didn’t think Sonnie wanted to go on and suggested she’d pulled the catheter out herself. It’s noted that since Sonnie hadn’t regained consciousness at the time, it was amazing. But no one questioned whether or not there’d been any foul play.

  “Then there’s yesterday’s disaster. Without a lot of luck, Sonnie might be dead by now. Romano gave it a good try.”

  Sonnie might have turned back if Wimpy hadn’t decided to scurry ahead into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Sonnie,” Aiden called, “come and have coffee. I made it, That means it’s the best.”

  “What do I do now?” she asked when she confronted the two men. “I heard what you were talking about.”

  “If you’d left the hospital and gone home to a happy, uncomplicated life, we wouldn’t be here,” Chris said. “I didn’t want to take you seriously. You know that. But too much has happened now. We’ve got to take everything seriously.”

  “What Romano did to me yesterday was crazy, wasn’t it?” she asked, not expecting a response. “If he were himself—even though he now knows Frank is dead—but if he were himself, he’d never do a thing like that. He was trying to shock me.”

  “He was trying to see if you’d break,” Chris said. “He was doing his best to find out if you could be pushed far enough to remember things that would be dangerous to him. I can only think he and Billy tried to finish you off in the hospital—probably for money reasons—and they’re scared you’ll suddenly recall everything and turn them in. And don’t forget that when I arrived he’d given up and decided to kill you. Or he’d snapped, would be closer to the truth.”

  She didn’t want to talk about that. “But if they thought Frank was still alive…If they expected him to come back, they’d assume he’d be the beneficiary of my estate. It’s true that according to Frank’s will, Romano was appointed to oversee his estate, and essentially stand in for Frank. Supposedly I couldn’t touch anything without Romano’s approval. They obviously suspect, but they don’t know for sure that I was able to make sure my trust fund was safe from them.”

  Chris and Aiden stared at each other.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”

  “It’s too bad we didn’t know that from the outset,” Chris said. “Know what I think? I think Romano probably found out his brother was dead months ago—while you were so ill, Sonnie. Since he would be a much richer man with you dead, too, and he’s apparently had some business reversals, it makes sense—if he’s the kind of man we think he is—for him to want to help you join Frank as soon as possible.”

  “But my own sister?”

  “We don’t have the proof yet,” Chris said and she felt how he hated making these suggestions at all.

  “Oh, I think we do,” Aiden said. “The minute Sonnie showed up here, Romano was right behind her. Then Billy. He must have told her to get down here—and bring her tame shrink with her. Want to bet what they might have had in mind for Dr. Lesley to do?”

  “Billy was the one who knew I was coming,” Sonnie said, subdued. “She was the only one I told. That means she’s the one who sent Romano down here. They came to make sure they could control me.”

  “And because there’s something here that frightens them—frightens them if you’re here,” Chris said. “Something to do with what happened here.”

  “Romano only pretended to be good to me,” Sonnie told them. “He used to apologize for Frank’s behavior. All that was an act. Billy’s made mistakes, but should I really believe she’d try to hurt me?”

  Chris detested the beaten expression on Sonnie’s face. “We don’t have any final proof that she did,” he said. “And we also don’t know if Romano had something to hold over her.”

  Aiden poured a mug of coffee and gave it to Sonnie. “I found a guy at the airfield who remembered a ruckus because Romano rented a moped the night you were hurt. I mentioned this already. But the whole story is that he never took it back to the rental agency. A couple of days later he said the machine

  was stolen and paid for it in full. The agency told him it was covered by insurance, but he still insisted on paying for it. Does that make any sense to anyone?”

  The kind of sense it made to Chris was best kept to himself for now.

  “Νο,” Aiden said when there was no response. “But there is a black moped in Ena’s garage. It’s covered up with a tarp, but it’s in perfect running order and the plates are stolen—probably to replace the ones from the rental agency. This is exactly the same model as the blue one Romano left with, and the new paint job isn’t professional. There’s blue paint underneath.”

  “My, haven’t we been busy?” Chris said, but he was grateful for the good legwork.

  “Those of us who are experts on such things as paint jobs—although I won’t go so far as to put this in the same league as the number that’s been done on my pink pony—know about these things.”

  Chris slapped a hand to his brow and moaned. “I may need aspirin. I can’t take another discussion of the Barbiemobile this morning.”

  “As I was saying. The paint job is amateurish, but it tells us what we want to know. Romano kept that moped and stored it in Ena’s garage. The only good news is that Ena doesn’t own a car, and from the look of the garage, she never goes in there. So we can assume she didn’t know anything about it.”

  “I’m having difficulty believing one supposedly sane woman can know so little about anything,” Sonnie said.

  Chris got up and pressed her into a chair. He disciplined himself not to do more than hold her arms. Every time he looked at her, let alone touched her, his pulse did double time. He had a bad case, and he’d better start praying she felt something similar toward him.

  “I want to know where Romano is,” he said, making sure he didn’t telegraph how desperate he felt at the thought of not knowing the man’s location. “Aiden—”

  “Already being done. They’re checking for him at roadblocks on the overseas road, and at the airports. Nothing yet.”

  “I don’t see why he’d want to keep the moped,” Sonnie said. “He could have bought his own.”

  “He did buy his own. But he didn’t have to deal with a lot of paperwork or with people who would take note of him, and maybe talk. Sonnie, aren’t you due at the Nail?”

  In other words, they wanted her out of their hair. “Yes,” she said, although she didn’t know if she was.

  “I’ll run you over,” Chris said. He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Aiden. “See what y
ou can make of this, okay? I’m going to pay a visit and ask some questions. Keep your phone on.”

  “Will do,” Aiden said, studying the card and frowning. He looked up and appeared about to say something more, but changed his mind. “I’ll get going now. They’re talking about us at least getting clipped by this next storm. That could make it real nasty around here.”

  “Νο,” Sonnie said. She slopped hot coffee over her fingers and set the mug down. “No, you can’t go, Chris.”

  Both men stared at her.

  “I…” She mustn’t sound possessive. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out there on your own.”

  Aiden smothered a laugh, and looked embarrassed.

  Sonnie cleared her throat. “Okay, I might as well be honest. I’m afraid to let you go, Chris. Something might happen to you. And I’m afraid when you’re not with me.”

  The following silence was heavy with awkwardness.

  “You’ve got a right to be scared,” Aiden said. “Not that I understand why a lout like Christian Talon would make you feel any safer. But, hey, there’s nothing to worry about, is there, Chris?”

  “Not a thing.” He spoke fast, maybe too fast. “Aiden has some legwork to get through and so do I. Nothing dangerous. Just boring stuff. We’ll be in contact all the time. If we sit around staring at each other and doing nothing, we’ll never put this thing to rest. The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll get back. Okay, sweetheart?”

  Arguing wouldn’t accomplish a thing. “Okay,” she said, although it wasn’t. “You get going. Both of you. I feel like a good walk. I need fresh air. I also want to check in with Ena again this morning I feel so sorry for her.”

  Both men had gotten up. Sonnie didn’t miss the sad way Aiden watched when Chris bent to kiss her. He kissed her for a long time. She turned in the chair and reached her arms around his neck.

  “Εna’s first; then you go straight to Ray and Bo, okay?” he said.

  “Okay.” They released each other slowly, and she was sure he was as reluctant as she.

  “You two do intend to see each other again, don’t you?” Aiden said. “You might want to leave something for later.”

  “You’re jealous,” Chris said.

  “You’re right,” Aiden told him. “Let’s go.”

  Chris followed, raising his brows at Sonnie when he passed her. Men, Sonnie decided, could be so obtuse. Aiden was lonely, and neither his pink Mustang nor his special Cadillac were filling up the empty spaces in his life.

  When they’d left, stillness filled the house. Wimpy continued to follow Sonnie wherever she went. First she returned to Ena’s house and knocked.

  After waiting for several minutes, she tried the door and found it unlocked. Perhaps she and Chris had failed to lock it when they left. Sonnie went inside and called “Εna” several times. A search of the whole house produced no sign of its owner. Sonnie checked the gardens but still didn’t find her friend.

  The bed in the room behind the parlor was made. There was no sign of Ena having used the kitchen that morning.

  Sonnie detested the tightening of her skin, and the way her scalp prickled. Ena could come and go as she pleased.

  But wouldn’t she wait to see Chris and Sonnie that morning? They hadn’t waited to see her…

  Where would she go so early in the day?

  Sonnie should call Chris.

  And tell him what?

  Panic wouldn’t accomplish a thing. She would go back to her own place and give some thought to organization. A call to her parents was long overdue. What should she tell them about Romano?

  On an overcast day, the purple bougainvillea was blindingly brilliant. Nothing moved. Not a suggestion of a breeze did anything to cool off the mounting heat.

  She didn’t have to go home. There was no reason not to go to the street and keep on walking—except for the need to overcome irrational fear, and to deal with the presence of one small, bug-eyed dog who looked at her as if she were his salvation.

  “Okay, Wimp, let’s get you fed, you nuisance.” She liked having him with her. He asked nothing but that she love him and make him feel safe. Odd how some simple needs crossed so many boundaries.

  She went inside and promptly called her parents. Their worry oozed along the lines. They both wanted her to come home at once, and they urged her to listen to Billy’s friend, the good doctor, whom they respected. Neither of them mentioned either Romano or Frank, and Sonnie chose to avoid the topic, too. They almost certainly wouldn’t believe her if she told them what Romano had done to her.

  As soon as she hung up, the phone rang. She picked up again and Aiden’s unmistakable voice said, “Sonnie. You heard from Chris?”

  “No. Did you try his phone?”

  “Idiot’s got it turned off.”

  “I haven’t heard,” she said, calling on simple discipline to stop herself from defending Chris’s intellect. “What’s going on?” Chris hadn’t turned on his phone, that was all. It didn’t mean something had happened to him.

  “I got something, that’s all,” Aiden said. “And I want Chris to check some things out. Do you know a guy called Cory Bledsoe?”

  “At the club. He’s the athletic director. Or he’s supposed to be. Romano’s been covering for him. He left for some reason.”

  “Yeah? But you don’t know him personally?”

  “I’ve met him. Nice enough man, if you don’t mind the way he hovers.”

  “Any talk about him?”

  Sonnie considered. “Well, he does have a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. But I don’t know any specifics.”

  “Could be unimportant. I’ll get hold of Chris eventually. If you hear from him, please let him know I called.”

  “Will do,” Sonnie said, and hung up once more.

  Wimpy had left on a sniffing expedition. Sonnie reminded herself that every inch of this house had been examined, and went to the kitchen to heat a mug of coffee in the microwave.

  She scoured the sink until the buzzer went off, then climbed the stairs, mug in hand. A nap sounded better than she ever remembered. Yesterday’s ordeal had taken a lot out of her, and she hadn’t had much sleep last night.

  Mostly she didn’t feel like doing anything but waiting for Chris.

  With the coffee on her bedside table, she plumped up her pillows and stretched out with her head propped. Better than a nap, just being comfortable and having the time to think about Chris was an irresistible idea.

  Yet again the phone rang, and when she picked up Chris said, “Why didn’t you go to the Nail?”

  She must have summoned him up just by thinking about him. She smiled and said, “I decided to take a nap instead.”

  There was a short silence before Chris said, “Tired you out, huh?”

  “You wish you were here?”

  “You’ve got it. I’d like to be there with you. I’d like to keep informed of where you are, though, Sonnie. Are you staying there, or do you plan to go to the Nail?”

  “Not till this evening. Aiden called. He said to tell you that if I heard from you. He tried to contact you but your phone was off.”

  “It has to be for now,” Chris said, but didn’t elaborate more.

  And Sonnie didn’t press him. “Aiden asked questions about Cory Bledsoe but he didn’t tell me why.”

  “Shit.” Chris said, “I need to talk to Aiden. Listen, don’t leave your house before you hear from me. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Later.” He hung up.

  Chris was fine.

  Sonnie took a mouthful of coffee that was growing cold and rested against the pillows. The palms beyond the balcony had grown tall in the years since she and Frank had bought the house.

  Frank was dead. That was a thought that didn’t make sense. He’d been so vibrant, so self-assured. Frank smiled at everyone—even Sonnie if there was someone around who might see. How sad. They had seemed blessed, bound to have a golden life together. So soon he’d let
the pretense fall away, and she’d found out he liked to have her on his arm—or perhaps to have her name and connections on his arm—but he hadn’t even liked her at all. She’d become a nuisance to him.

  She wished he were alive and happy. Once they’d divorced he’d have had no difficulty finding a much more suitable woman to share his life.

  A bang, bang, bang startled her. She sat up and saw at once what was making the noise. Outside on the balcony, Frank’s chair rocked madly back and forth, hammering at the frame on the French door.

  Sonnie jumped from the bed and went to open the doors. She had to push the chair away in order to go outside.

  She gripped the chair to pull it away from the doors, but stopped and looked at it. The last time she’d noticed it, it had stood farther along the balcony—well away from the windows. She couldn’t have seen it without coming outside.

  And there was no wind now.

  She gave it a push.

  It rocked, but not much. Frank had chosen the long runners that guaranteed soft motion. He’d had the chair made because he liked to sit out here at night—on his own. There hadn’t been a chair for Sonnie, not that she minded. She’d been glad for him to find peace wherever he could.

  Even if the chair had been moved while the cleanup from the fire was under way, that wouldn’t explain why it started rocking all on its own, and rocking so hard it banged the window.

  Sonnie leaned over the balcony railings and scanned the area for signs of an intruder onto the property. She didn’t see anyone.

  Her heart beat faster. If she mentioned the incident to anyone they’d say it was petty and unimportant. It was petty and unimportant, and she wouldn’t mention it. She hauled the chair well away and back out of sight of the bedroom and returned inside. She locked the door and sat on the bed again.

  At any other time or in any other place, she would be deciding who might take pleasure in childish pranks.