Key West

by Stella Cameron

  “He’s trying to get his head straight,” Jim said. “At least hear him out.”

  “I’m listening,” Chris said. He didn’t intend to give Romano a whole lot of time. “Come on. Come on. Let’s hear how you think you can explain yourself.”

  “I want a chance to apologize. Not just to you, not even mainly to you. It’s Sonnie who deserves an explanation, and my promise that the man she saw yesterday wasn’t really me. Ι love her as the dearest of friends. Even if she forgives me, I will not forgive myself.”

  “You’re breaking my heart,” Chris said.

  Romano kept his eyes downcast and applied more pressure to his knee. “My brother—my baby brother—is dead. It is not supposed to be that he should die before me. I should not have done what I did to Sonnie, but I am suffering, and knowing that she doesn’t care that my brother—her husband—has been brutally murdered has been too much.”

  “Did you know Sonnie planned to divorce Frank?” Chris asked. “She intended to tell him that when he was due to arrive in Key West, but didn’t.”

  “I know this.” Romano wiped the back of a hand across his eyes. “She told me that she’d begun making plans. And then I found out that she’d looked into making changes in her will—Frank’s will.”

  “Surely she couldn’t do that without her husband.” Giacano’s laugh was ugly. “She intended to prove he had no right to her trust. It predated her wedding, and she planned to divorce Frank before she came of age to access the funds.”

  “How do you know that?” Chris asked.

  “Billy mentioned it. She and Sonnie have always shared everything. But I’m not making that an excuse for what I did. She won’t listen to me, Talon, but you could talk her into giving me another chance.

  “She’s not well. We all know that. I haven’t helped, but I want to turn that around. She needs treatment before it’s too late to reclaim the Sonnie we’ve known. Voices.” He raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Have you heard the voices she talks about?”

  Excitement all but overwhelmed Chris. “Can’t say I have.” How interesting that Romano should talk about those voices and look upward as he did so. “How about you?”

  “No,” Romano said. “Neither has Billy.” He glanced upward again.

  “So we’re all pulling for Sonnie, is that right?” he said, barely able to stop himself from running out of the room and going for the Harley as fast as he could.

  “We most certainty are,” Romano said.

  “Count on it,” Jim Lesley said.

  “Great. I’ll be in touch after I talk to Sonnie.”

  He left the room and immediately saw Billy Keith at the end of the corridor. Her back was to him while she talked to someone in the lobby. Α room opposite and to the left stood open, with a housekeeping trolley outside. He was out of options.

  Chris dodged behind the trolley and entered the room. He heard water running. The bathroom was being cleaned.

  Encountering Billy was out of the question now. He positioned himself at the back of the door. The carpet in the corridor muffled footsteps, but he heard them, and through the crack between the door and the jamb he saw Billy arrive at room twelve. It was Jim Lesley who appeared before she could use her key. He looked up and down the corridor and said, “Did you see Talon?”

  Billy made her own check of the corridor. “Νο. He was here?”

  “Yes. Romano’s injured his knee. Probably needs sutures, but I’ll take care of that. Then we need to start moving. Talon knows too much.”

  Thirty-two

  Heading for Old Town and Truman Avenue, Chris made repeated attempts to reach Sonnie by phone.

  She didn’t pick up.

  He knew what he was looking for. For the first time since he’d grudgingly allowed himself to be drawn into Sonnie’s intrigue, he felt completely convinced that she wasn’t imagining any of the events that had frightened her. Fear might intensify her reactions, but she wouldn’t be human if it didn’t.

  Chris rode over the sidewalk and shot into the driveway of Sonnie’s house. He didn’t know how long he had before the trio at the club made a move, but the afternoon sun beat down, and he did know that most of this day was past: and time was unlikely to be on his side.

  He slid to a halt and jumped off the bike.

  The front door stood open and Wimpy sat there, blinking against the sun.

  “Psst.” Someone was behind the dense shrubbery at the base of the veranda steps. “Pretend you don’t hear me.” Aiden Flynn’s voice. “But listen up.”

  “I can’t just stand here.”

  “Sit on the steps, schmuck. Sonnie’s over at Ena’s. She doesn’t know I’m here. I spoke with Roy and he’s worried about you and Sonnie. Says you’re taking too long to get things cleaned up.”

  As ordered, Chris sat on the steps. Wimpy skittered beside him and hopped on his lap. “This could be the day we’ve been waiting for. I think this thing’s breaking.”

  “Me, too,” Flynn said.

  From where he sat, Chris could see Flynn crouched behind the shrubs. “Any particular reason for the theatrics?”

  “I think so.” Flynn must have felt Chris’s eyes on him but he made no attempt to turn in his direction. “I barely made it out of sight when the local heat came calling.”

  “If you were where you are now, you didn’t make it.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Okay, so what’s up?”

  Flynn said, “I dropped here so I could watch for Sonnie to come back—or for someone else to approach Ena’s house. I heard what the cops asked Sonnie, though. Someone tried to get out of Miami—international flight—using Edward Miller’s papers.”

  “Where the hell does that fit in?” Chris gripped the edge of the step on which he sat. Wimpy promptly planted his forefeet on his chest and studied him closely. The big question was, Who had tried to use Miller’s papers? “It’s all going down. I knew it. Do we know who the guy is? He didn’t make it out, so where is he now?”

  “I don’t have an ID on him yet, but we’ll get it. He’s in a Miami hospital and under heavy guard. They arrested him and he collapsed. Then they discovered he’d been beaten—only in places that didn’t show when he was dressed—and burned. Poor devil’s got infected cigarette burns on his penis and scrotum.”

  “God.” Chris shuddered; then he looked directly at Flynn. “Those fools didn’t say that to Sonnie, did they?”

  “You bet your boots they did. Shock was what they had in mind. They think she’s mixed up in all this. What would you think if you had a stiff show up in a woman’s house, then the stiff’s papers—missing when the body was found—are used by a guy who talks about Sonnie when he’s unconscious?”

  Chris wiped his palms on his thighs. By the time the runt dog finished with him, he could plan on missing a shower. “What d’you mean, talked about her?”

  “Just said her name. Damn, it’s turned hot. I know I’m not going to get out of this hole before a damn hurricane hits.”

  “You said you don’t know who he is,” Chris said. “The police must have said his name to Sonnie.”

  “She asked. They don’t know, either. He wasn’t talking about that.”

  “Who would it be?” Chris took Romano’s gun from one pocket and put it into another while he retrieved the list of names.

  “I’ve told you we’ll find out. What’s with the toy pistol?”

  “I confiscated it from Romano Giacano. Actually he gave it to me when he decided to switch tactics from killing me to confessing his wrongdoings and trying to get me to ease his way with Sonnie. How long has she been over there?”

  “‘Maybe fifteen minutes. She went as soon as the cops left.”

  “Did you get a good took at her?” Chris said. “She look okay?”

  “I guess. Listen up and don’t interrupt me. I made it to Miami and back in record time. Finding that address was easy.

  House is owned by a couple. They’re away at the moment and there’s
a house sitter. Unfortunately the couple keep to themselves, so the neighbor I found home couldn’t tell me too much. I remembered an old buddy on the force in Tampa. I got really lucky. He was still around and he’s running some checks for us. Reckons he’ll have names by the end of the day. I told him your E-mail moniker and he’ll get to us that way. It’ll probably fall flat, but we can hope.”

  Chris grunted. He’d caught sight of the pink Mustang parked a hundred or so yards up the street. “That car’s a liability. See it once and you never forget it.”

  “I know,” Flynn said, almost purring. “Isn’t she something? Kinda like your Harley—unforgettable. Fortunately no one connects me to the car or either of us to you. I’m Wally the phantom, remember?”

  “If you say so. I’m going to check on Sonnie.” He got up and left without looking back. Entering Ena’s yard by the gap in the shrubbery fence, he could see that the draperies remained drawn and Sonnie had shut the front door after she was inside. Chris opened the door and called out “Sonnie” at once. He didn’t want to shake her up.

  He heard footsteps overhead and started up the stairs. “Sonnie? Ena?”

  “I’m here,” Sonnie answered. “You came back.”

  Chris frowned and continued up. “I came back. I said I’d come back. What are you doing?”

  She met him at the top of the stairs. “Everything looks exactly the way we left it this morning. Ena was already gone then. She hasn’t been back. Not as far as I can see.”

  “Wait right there,” he told her and walked swiftly toward the attic stairs.

  He’d returned, Sonnie thought. If she were superstitious she’d be afraid to feel relieved, but she wasn’t superstitious.

  “Okay,” she heard him say. “I want to take a closer look at this.” He arrived with a large toolbox and ushered her ahead of him down the stairs.

  She followed him into the kitchen with its cluttered cat theme. He put the metal box on Ena’s scrubbed, white wood table. He opened it and quickly removed a variety of items. “Tell me what you’re doing,” she said.

  “These are drill bits,’ he said, opening a small blue metal case. “Several missing.” He lifted out a tray to reveal a large compartment below. Another blue case, this one much larger than the first, was empty. “Drill should be in here.”

  “Maybe it was used to make those holes in the floor—ceiling.”

  “Uh-huh, but it’s not in the attic. Unless whoever went out of the window up there took a drill and bits with him, I’d have expected to find them. I’m going upstairs again.”

  “Don’t, Chris,” Sonnie said. “I’m afraid Ena will walk in and get upset that we’re poking around here.”

  “We’re looking after her interests as well as ours,” Chris said.

  She couldn’t argue with him. Instead she followed back up the stairs and along to the room where she’d spent the night—where they’d spent the night.

  Chris looked around. He took a bamboo nightstand from beside the bed and climbed on it. Sonnie said, “Be careful. What are you doing?”

  He had to bow his head to avoid hitting it on the ceiling. “I thought these were low,” he said, and he reached to finger the hole over the bed. “Start looking for a drill.”

  He confused her, but Sonnie opened drawers and felt around. She went to a freestanding wardrobe and opened it. No clothes hung there. “Everything’s so empty here,” she said. “I don’t know how you live in a place and have so much empty storage.”

  Chris didn’t comment. He went into the bathroom, and returned after a few minutes. Lying on his stomach, he lifted the bedskirt and searched beneath. Sonnie heard a muffled “Shit,” but couldn’t smile.

  “Nothing here,” he said as he got to his feet, brushing off his jeans and jean jacket.

  Without another word he left and ran downstairs. Sonnie caught up with him in the kitchen, where he was going through the garbage. “What’s your best guess about the man they’ve got in the hospital in Miami?” he said, still rummaging.

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Υou don’t want me to know?”

  “Of course I do, but I haven’t had a chance to tell you, so—?”

  “My buddy Flynn was eavesdropping. Shit,” he repeated, pushing the garbage back under the sink and looking around. He opened a drawer in the table. A tidy line of wooden spoons greeted them. “She’s got stuff where you can see it, and nothing in places where stuff wouldn’t be seen.”

  “The police said they were bound to find out who the man is. They weren’t very nice to me, but I think they suspect me of being in on something awful.”

  Chris went from drawer to drawer and was shutting the last one when he grew still. He drew out a plastic bag and opened it.

  “What?” Sonnie said.

  He held it open where she could see inside. “Sawdust? In a kitchen drawer?” She reached inside to touch the fine wood shavings and felt something hard. “A nail in a bag of sawdust?” she said, withdrawing the nail.

  “And pieces of painter’s tape at the top of the bag,” Chris said. “Theory?”

  Sonnie shrugged. “I pass.”

  “Someone made a hole in the bedroom ceiling with that nail just to mark the spot. They dropped the nail into the bag, then taped the bag to the ceiling with painter’s masking tape. Won’t pull off the paint. After that he went to the attic, found the tiny hole, and drilled another one on that spot, making it big enough to give a clear view into the room below. Take away the bag with the sawdust, and there you have it. Could be the other holes were made with nothing more sophisticated than the nail—or maybe a bigger nail. The sawdust was added to the rest. But why put this bag in a kitchen drawer, and where’s the drill?”

  “And who did it?” Sonnie said.

  Chris’s phone rang. He picked up and said, “Υeah?”

  “It’s Mustang Man. Just making sure you’ve got the phone on. I told Roy to go into your shack and keep an eye on incoming E-mail. That okay?”

  “Would it matter if I said it wasn’t?”

  “My friend in Tampa could be getting back to us at any time. Chris, I don’t think we should hang around any longer than we have to—with you in that house, that is. I don’t feel good about it.”

  “We’ll be over there shortly.” Chris switched off. “Just as soon as I’m convinced I can’t find the damn drill.”

  Sonnie kept right behind him. Whenever possible, she helped by searching cupboards or drawers or wardrobes. “This house is too empty,” she said. “Just like you said. Everything is where you can see it.”

  “Υup,” Chris said. “But Ena didn’t have time to do any packing, did she?”

  “I don’t think so.” She’d be happy just to watch Chris forever. He moved smoothly, performed tasks deftly and without wasteful fumbling. Even set in concentration, his face was more handsome than any other. His mouth tilted up very slightly, but that tilt had nothing to do with smiling right now. And she loved his hands. She knew they could break things, but they could also be so careful.

  “Sonnie, what’s the matter with you?”

  She started. He’d caught her staring at his hands and doing absolutely nothing. “I’m fine,” she said. “I was just trying to think of somewhere clever to look for a drill.”

  He took his time looking away again.

  Chris’s phone rang again. “Yeah,” he said, scowling this time.

  He straightened slowly, listening intently. “Could be a coincidence. I’ll check that out.”

  Once more he switched off, and this time he caught Sonnie off guard by whipping her into his arms and holding her tight. “We’ve got to concentrate. I’ve got to concentrate. I can’t do that without the right inspiration. You’re the right inspiration. A minute out for a necessity.”

  Sonnie looked up at him and he kissed her. He put a lot of thought, a lot of finesse into that kiss. When this woman kissed you, you knew you’d been kissed. And it wasn’t ending. Sonnie seemed determi
ned to make contact with every cell that made up his mouth. They both withdrew at the same instant. Sonnie rubbed his chest and smiled at him. On tiptoe again, she nibbled his jaw, blew into his ear.

  Take-charge time. Holding her just far enough away to allow the tasting party to go on, it was his turn to grin. “I could have my way with you, darlin’,” he said, and homed in to kiss her mouth. “But I’m goin’ to be merciful just now.” He still, held her, but he’d always been a man who multitasked well.

  “You’ve got a gun,” Sonnie said, this time trying to put some distance between them. “You could kill someone with that.”

  The old dilemma: how did a man with a cop history tell a woman that the reason for carrying a gun was to try to calm a situation down, not to kill? Although Chris knew he could pull the trigger if he needed to.

  “Chris,” Sonnie said. “You’re not a cop anymore. Why the gun?”

  “Habit,” he told her, absolutely honest. “You’ll never find a cop, active or otherwise, who doesn’t have a gun.”

  He could tell he’d made no points with his explanation. “Guns frighten me,” Sonnie said.

  “That’s healthy. They aren’t toys. Sonnie, now we have to make every second count. I’m going to call the hospitals in Miami and see if I can track down the man who took Edward’s papers. The police could leave you alone and be just as far ahead. But I would put money on the guy with the papers having been in your house—killing Edward so he could get at the papers he needed.”

  “Surely the cops must be thinking along those lines.”

  “Some cops maybe. I’m going to make some calls. Keep looking for the drill.”

  Sonnie continued in the kitchen, where she could hear what Chris was up to.

  He made three calls before the expression on his face lightened. “Surely I can hold,” he said. “Sonnie, I think I’ve got it. She’s checking.”

  Sonnie nodded and went on to finish with every drawer in the kitchen. Nothing.

  “Hey,” she said, “best hiding place of all. Right in front of our faces.” A drill rested on the back of a framed picture that had been left facedown on the bucket rest of a small ladder.