by Meryl Sawyer
“You didn’t tell this to the sheriff?” Kyle barely resisted the urge to punch his lights out. Only the thought that the jerk might be useful in helping Jennifer stopped him.
“Yes. I told him, but didn’t mention I was related to Chad. Why complicate matters? But I did say that Chad had told me that he was finally going to marry someone. He was going to break it off with Lisa just the way he’d broken it off with”—Tyler shrugged—“who knows how many women.”
“When did Chad tell you all this?”
“At the barbecue in Truman Annex.”
“What time was it?”
“Early in the evening. Yeah. It was eightish, I think.”
“Didn’t Sheriff Prichett think that gave Lisa a motive to kill? Crimes of passion are typical.”
Tyler shook his head. “I told the sheriff, but I also told him that Chad planned to string Lisa along for a few days. From what Chad told me, she was a pretty hot number. He wasn’t going to blow her off until just before he left.”
Kyle wasn’t certain what to make of this except that the sheriff wasn’t looking for the real killer. Prichett would rather pin the murder on Jennifer.
“Why didn’t Chad have women up in the secret room?”
“As far as I know, he did. Back when he had a thing going with Raven, she used to go up there. I’d go up there, too. It wasn’t any big deal except to Thelma Mae.
“She was a little weird. She kept the room secret and told everyone what they saw from the outside was just a facade. She used to go up there to get away from the guests. Then Chad came along and she gave the room to him. That way whenever he decided to pop into town, he always had a place to stay.”
“What did you really say that made Thelma Mae walk into the ocean?”
Tyler threw back his head and stared up at the palms fluttering in the light breeze. He exhaled, lowered his head and looked at Kyle.
“I thought I was helping her by telling her the truth, but she wigged out. She didn’t believe me. She wanted Chad to be her long lost son so badly that she wouldn’t listen to the truth. She screamed at me and told me never to come back to Thunder Island. That’s why I left her with Plotzy.”
The guy seemed genuinely sorry. Okay, so he wasn’t the most sensitive man in Key West, but he did regret what had happened to Thelma Mae. Now that he thought about it, Tyler seemed more upset about her death than Chad’s murder.
“Who do you think killed your brother?”
“He was killed with his own knife. He always kept it in his pocket except when he was in his room. He’d put it on the nightstand. I don’t think the murder was premeditated. I think Chad had an argument with Plotzy and he grabbed the knife.”
“Plotzy?” Kyle nearly fell off the wall. “You think Plotzy murdered your brother?”
Chapter 33
Jennifer jumped up at the sound of someone coming through the rear door of the home Trevor was restoring. She rushed toward the back of the house, expecting Kyle, then stopped dead in her tracks.
“Oh, my God!”
If Sadie hadn’t been beating the air with her tail, it would have taken Jennifer a full minute to recognize Kyle. He’d cut his gloss-black hair ruthlessly short, and he was wearing tailored white Bermudas and a black tank top that gloved his powerful torso. He’d applied lotion to his tanned skin and it glistened even in the unlit room. Around his neck was a gold chain as thick as a rope.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Is this a good disguise, or what?”
“Or what. You look …”
“Gay?”
“Yes. If I didn’t know—”
“Hey, this is Key West. Gays everywhere. The cops won’t look twice at me.” He held up a bag. “Here’s a disguise for you. A brown wig, and”—he hesitated a moment—“a maternity dress and a toss pillow to go under it.”
She grabbed the bag, shutting Chloe out of her mind. “Been there; done that. I can waddle like any woman does near term. Tell me what happened while I put these on.”
She stripped down to her underwear while Kyle filled her in on what Tyler had told him. “Why would Plotzy kill Chad? That’s assuming Plotzy could get it together long enough to stab anyone.”
“Chad had conned him out of a lot of money by convincing Plotzy that he could corner the aquatic vegetable market.”
Jennifer was laughing so hard she could barely secure the small toss pillow around her midriff with the belt Kyle had brought. “What are aquatic veggies?”
“How the hell would I know?” Kyle replied with a smile.
She pulled the maternity dress over her head, asking, “Did Tyler know whose prints were on the knife?”
“The sheriff told him it was wiped clean.”
“Great, just great.”
“One other thing. Didn’t Raven say she’d never been up in the secret room?”
Jennifer fluffed the short, springy curls on the wig. “Yes, and so did Plotzy.”
“Tyler didn’t know for certain if Plotzy had been up there, but he knew Raven went to Chad’s room when they’d been together.”
“Why would she lie about it?”
“Beats me.”
She stuffed her hair up under the wig, then asked, “How do I look?”
The featherlike laugh lines around his green eyes crinkled. “Beautiful. But no one’s going to recognize you.”
“What are we going to do about Sadie?”
On cue, the dog whined when she heard her name. She gazed up adoringly at Kyle, her tail swishing through the air.
“She’s a dead give-away.”
“I already fed her. I put water in a pan I found. I don’t like leaving her, but I guess we don’t have any choice.”
Unwilling to risk having someone spot the car, Kyle walked and Jennifer waddled at his side over to Thunder Island. A gay man and a pregnant woman. A few men looked at Kyle like he was a piece of meat, but he ignored them.
They didn’t attract any special attention even though Kyle had to tote his military issue backpack with his equipment. He let it hang off one shoulder in a casual way that wouldn’t suggest it contained anything of value.
“There’s a police car,” Jennifer said, her voice shaking with nerves.
“Keep walking. Look up at me and laugh like you’re having fun.”
Jennifer did what she was told, and he couldn’t help thinking how great she looked. Pregnant. One day they were going to have a family, a big family. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted children until he’d discovered he had fathered a little girl.
“They didn’t even slow down and take a second look,” Jennifer said, interrupting his thoughts.
While they walked, they discussed the facts they had and the clues, but were no closer to narrowing the possible list of suspects when they turned down the lane toward Thunder Island. Ahead, they saw the mansion wreathed in yellow and black crime scene tape, but there wasn’t a sheriff’s car anywhere around. The droves of media with their vans and cameras were gone as well.
“Are we just going to walk up?” Jennifer asked. “What if there’s a deputy guarding the place that we can’t see?”
“I don’t think they’d leave anyone without a squad car. Let’s casually wander up the path, then duck into the bushes separating Thunder Island from Weller’s Guest House. You’ll hide out by the pool while I check the house.”
“Almost everyone from Thunder Island is staying at Weller’s,” commented Jennifer. “Except for Tyler who’s across town. Most of the suspects are right next door.”
“I wouldn’t rule out Tyler Langley. Just because he’s an FBI agent doesn’t mean he couldn’t have killed Chad.”
“What motive would he have?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Remember Cain and Abel. Tyler did not like his brother at all.”
They walked up the footpath without meeting anyone, which wasn’t surprising. Most of the people who used the path came from Thunder Island. The guests at Weller’s took the shortcut along
the shore to walk to the main street.
They slipped between the bushes that grew tall and wild between the two guest houses. From Weller’s pool came the raucous sounds of laughter and splashing water. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, and the scent of decaying leaves rose from the damp soil. Kyle held back a branch and motioned for Jennifer to step out of the brush onto Thunder Island’s grounds.
They were in the pool area now, and he quickly glanced around. Towels were flung over a few chaises, and soda cans were on the tables. Thelma Mae would never have allowed the clutter, but she was no longer around. The place appeared deserted.
“Stay right here. If someone comes, duck into the bushes.”
He left his backpack with Jennifer and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then went to see if the sheriff was smart enough to leave a guard to prevent anyone from tampering with the scene. As he moved stealthily from room to room, finding no one, he thought about Jennifer.
This case was one hell of a mess. If they couldn’t match the DNA, he didn’t know if there would be enough time to unravel the mystery before Jennifer was arrested.
He loved her so damn much, he actually experienced physical pain when he thought of her in jail. She was a complex woman, not easy to know. He wondered if she let anyone really get close to her. Because of the past, it was clear she protected herself with an emotional shield.
Changing her attitude was going to take time and a lot of love. But how in hell could he get through to her if she disappeared from his life for two whole years?
“Prichett didn’t post a guard,” he told Jennifer when he’d finished searching and returned to the pool. He picked up his heavy backpack. “Let’s see if they left enough blood on the floor for us to work with.”
All the shutters were closed inside the house and the shadowy staircase was darker than usual, making it difficult to see even though the sun hadn’t set. They didn’t dare open the shutters in case someone noticed and called the police. Kyle took a small flashlight out of his backpack.
“I’ve got a great flashlight in my room,” Jennifer told him.
“Good. We’ll use your desk. The last thing we want to do is spend too much time in Chad’s room and mess up the crime scene.” He didn’t want to worry her more than she already was, but if she was arrested, Kyle was going to make certain the FBI became involved. They would send out their own men to recheck the crime scene.
The house seemed eerily quiet, and they found themselves tiptoeing up the stairs. They passed the landing with the panel leading to the secret room. Tape was all over it, crisscrossed from top to bottom.
“We’ll have to be very careful or they’ll know someone tampered with the crime scene,” he said, his voice low.
“I have an idea. I’ll run down to the kitchen and get plastic bags to put over our hands and feet. Plastic doesn’t leave trace fibers, right?”
“Right. I’ll be in your room setting up the machine.”
By the time she returned, he had the DNA field test kit ready to use.
She walked through the door, saying, “I’m small. Maybe I should be the one to go up there.”
He took the plastic bags from her. “No. I saw exactly where the wine glass broke. I know exactly where to look.”
“What can I do?” she asked as he shoved his feet into plastic bags the maids used to line wastepaper baskets.
“Get me some tape, so I don’t trip over these damn things and break my neck.”
She opened the door to her closet. “Look! They left the rifle.”
Kyle glanced up. “Prichett’s damn sloppy.”
She brought out a roll of tape from a basket in the closet and helped secure the bags on his hands and feet.
“Take the police scanner out of my pack while I’m gone,” he told her. “Let’s see what they’re up to.”
The narrow stairs leading to the secret room were pitch dark and slippery as hell. Kyle used his flashlight to guide him. The doorjamb looked gritty from having been dusted for fingerprints.
He eased into the room and quickly flashed his light around while looking up and down in the zigzag pattern he’d been taught for recon missions with the SEALs. Sloppy did not describe the sheriff’s work. Bits of glass were still scattered on the floor and someone had spilled something on the bed cover. He was too highly trained not to have noticed the spot the night he found the body.
Most of the drop of blood was still there, although it appeared someone had attempted to retrieve a sample. The stupid bags on his hands made him fumble while trying to pull the knife he’d taken out of his pack and placed in his pocket. He yanked it out and pressed on it and the deadly blade flipped out.
He crouched down and used the tip of the knife to scrape up the dried blood without scratching the floor. Kyle kept the knife in one hand, the flashlight in the other and went downstairs. Jennifer was waiting for him on the other side of the tape.
“Take this.” He wiggled the knife through the tape cobwebbing the door.
He dropped to his knees and slithered under the tape on his belly. He surged to his feet, then bent down and reattached the single piece of tape he’d undone near the bottom of the floor.
“I can’t believe you got under there. I couldn’t.”
“SEALs are trained to get in and out of tight spots.” He took the knife from her. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
They hurried back to her room, and Kyle yanked off the plastic bags while Jennifer prepared the slide. The static-filled scanner caught his attention.
“Anything new?”
“No. They just keep repeating the same APB. They’ve stopped a couple of people, but, of course, they haven’t found me.”
He was about to suggest turning on the television and finding out what CNN had to say, then decided against it. Jennifer was anxious enough without seeing her picture flashed across the screen as a murder suspect.
He retrieved the knife he’d placed blade up on the nightstand. She handed him the slide and he smeared the dried blood on it. Inwardly saying a prayer, he put it in the machine.
“What’s your guess?” he asked. “Man or woman?”
“Woman,” she replied without hesitation. “Caucasian.”
“White? That’s a given, considering the suspects.”
The machine whirred, then out came a piece of paper. He read it: “Male Caucasian.”
“Well, that eliminates Raven and Lisa. I’m stunned. My money was on Lisa.” She looked at the small strip of paper. “What else does it tell? Can we rule out anyone else?”
“Not unless we knew their blood types. This man’s is O negative. It’s not very common. The rest of the info is technical.”
“What good is the machine, if that’s all it does?”
She was cute when she was mad, he thought, then decided this wasn’t anger. It was Jenny’s way of expressing her unspoken fear. She’d been hoping for a miracle. He should have warned her not to expect too much.
“This machine is a prototype. Most of the time you don’t need to know more than the terrorist’s race and sex. What the machine excels at is DNA matches. If you find a suspect, you’ll know in less than a minute if you’ve found the right person.”
“I see,” she said, calmer now. “We should split up and gather samples, correct?”
“Yes, blood’s the best but it’s harder to find. Look on the pillow for hair samples. Use the tweezers to pick up one of them. Look for a hair with the follicle intact, if possible.”
“Why?”
“That’s next easiest to read. Too many people bleach or color their hair. It strips the shaft. You can get a read, but it’s not as reliable.” He picked up a handful of small plastic bags off the bed. “I’ll do Tyler’s. You check Chuck’s room. Do you know where it is?”
“Sure. I know where Chuck and Plotzy’s rooms are, but not Tyler’s. He’s probably across the house in the wing where Thelma Mae put the short-term guests. It should be listed in the guest register
at the front desk.”
“I’ll find out, then search Tyler’s room. You get a sample from Chuck. If these two are negative, we’ll get a DNA sample from Plotzy’s room. I think he’s a long shot and we haven’t time to waste.”
Kyle raced down the stairs, something niggling at the back of his mind, though he wasn’t certain what it was. He located the guest book. Tyler had been assigned a room at the far end of the other wing.
The room was locked. Kyle was tempted to use the knife he’d put back in his pocket to pick the lock, but decided against it. He might leave telltale scratches on the dark wood.
“Aw, shit,” he cursed as he rushed down the hall and out onto the verandah that wrapped around Thunder Island.
The breeze was blowing toward him, carrying with it the sounds of cocktail chatter from Weller’s Guest House. It was nearing summer and the days were longer now. Cocktail time lasted several hours. He imagined the killer sipping a drink, confident he’d tricked the sheriff.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered as he tried the window in Tyler’s room.
The first was locked, but the second one was open a crack. He slid his hand between the window and the sill, then pushed up, and it lifted without making a sound. Inside, shadows darkened the small room.
A swish of his flashlight revealed a room that looked as if no one had been there in days. He opened the closet door, but nothing was inside. Noticing the bed was made, he wondered if Tyler was anal enough to have made the bed that morning after they had discovered Chad’s body.
He threw back the sheets and trained his flashlight on the linen. Not a single hair on either pillow or the sheets. He bent down and sniffed the pillow, inhaling deeply.
Aw, hell.
He recognized the clean, fresh scent. Linens were changed daily at Thunder Island. Tyler had not slept in his bed last night.
Interesting.
He hurried into the bathroom and risked turning on the light. None of the usual toiletries or personal items were there—certainly not the hairbrush or comb he’d been hoping to find. That left the shower and the toilet.