Daiquiri Dock Murder Page 5

  “Big deal!”

  “I think it’s a big deal, and in the near future I may choose Dolly as the subject of one of my columns. People need to know more about her, to be aware of her goals and her struggle. I enjoy using my column to help the underdog—talented people awaiting recognition. Look, this poem’s about a cat.”

  “No surprise there.” Kane stared into the distance.

  “Dolly loves cats. I see her feeding a black stray at the hotel almost every morning.”

  “Surprised she didn’t make you pay a dime for the poem.”

  I grinned. Dolly might or might not become known as the Poet Laureate of Key West, but she is known for leaving copies of her poems beside the cash registers in many Key West stores. A small sign beside the poems asks patrons to take a poem and deposit a dime in the Poet’s Jar nearby, the proceeds going to poet Dolly Jass.

  “I’ve bought several of her ten-cent poems, Kane. I consider the gift of a poem from Dolly an important gift, generously given.

  “Okay. Okay. Read it and forget it.”

  “Aloud?”

  “If you insist. But it won’t influence me to drop any dimes in her Poet’s Jar.”

  I read the poem silently before I shared it with Kane.

  “The title is ‘Sir Cat and the Spider Plant.’ I smiled. “It’s a bit of whimsy.”

  “A lot like Dolly, right?”

  “Perhaps. But it may lift your spirits, shift your thoughts from Diego and murder.”

  I began reading.

  When life gets so boring

  That fits aren’t worth throwing

  I slink to the porch

  Where Spider Plant’s growing

  It thrives in a clay pot

  That hangs from a bracket

  And one spider baby

  Swings low. Watch me whack it.

  It flies to its siblings

  The whole plant’s aquiver

  I smack it again and

  Green leaves start to sliver.

  Ma’am rushes to porch to

  Protect Spider’s babies

  And I’m in big trouble—

  No ifs ands or maybes.

  Ma’am stamps and she storms. She’s

  A mover and shaker

  But watch! I’ll start purring.

  That’s my great peace maker.

  After I read the poem and received no comment from Kane, I refolded it and started to tuck it back into my pocket. Then I saw 3 more lines Dolly had added like an afterthought toward the bottom of the page. They were untitled.

  Wise cats wait ’till night

  To stalk the land and prowl earth’s

  Haunted hidden spots.

  I read the lines twice and felt hairs rise on my forearms before I folded the sheet and tucked it into my pocket. I didn’t read those last lines to Kane, but I wondered if they carried an esoteric clue concerning Diego’s murder, or if she was experimenting, trying her hand at creating haiku. I stood and began pulling my deck chair back into the wheelhouse.

  “Want a quick tour of the boat?” Kane asked.

  What was going on here! “Sure you’ve got time?”

  “You being sarcastic?”

  “No. I didn’t mean to sound that way. You’ve seldom invited me aboard The Buccaneer, and I’d love a tour. But I hoped you’d have more to tell me—more rumors about the murder.” Kane ignored those last words.

  “There’s little to see on The Buccaneer that you haven’t already seen. I haven’t made many big changes during the past weeks. You’ve seen the big three, the main deck, the wheelhouse, the hull down below.”

  “Where does your crew sleep?”

  “In the bunks at the front of the wheelhouse.” Kane led me forward. “But first, here’s the galley. I did add a new camp stove last summer.” He pumped some water into a small sink and pointed to a Coleman stove.

  “And now the bunks?”

  Kane moved forward in the narrow wheelhouse and pointed to 2 bunks, a built-in chest of drawers, and 2 lockers for stowing gear.

  “Not much space for personal things,” I said, laughing.

  “Shrimpers don’t bring many personal things aboard.” Kane lifted the thin mattress on one bunk and propped it against the bulkhead, then stepped aside to give me a better view. “There’s a small compartment under each bunk. Go ahead. Open it up if you’re curious.”

  A pine board with a blue rope handle at each end lay fitted into a rectangular indentation. I grabbed the handles and tugged on the board. It didn’t budge.

  “Let me give you a hand. That board’s been there since I bought the boat. The compartment underneath doesn’t get much use. Never thought it important to work on the sticky lid.” It took two tugs before Kane pulled the board up, revealing a small space that held a catalog of nautical equipment, a couple of salt water fishing magazines, and a deck of playing cards.

  I laughed. “Enough recreational equipment to keep any sailor happy.”

  “Dampness makes the lid warp, but no matter. Shrimping crews don’t have much time for fun and games.”

  “What do you do for sleep space if you have several crewmen aboard?”

  “There’s another sleeping compartment that opens into the hull next to the ice bins.”

  Kane didn’t offer a tour of the hull and I didn’t ask.

  “You ready to go? You can stay here and rest awhile longer if you aren’t up to talking to people yet.”

  “I’m ready.” I leaned against the wheelhouse doorway. “Guess I hoped to hear more talk about the murder.”

  “I haven’t heard any more talk this morning, but a week or so ago, Brick told me about some problems between him and Diego.” Kane gave a short laugh. “Sounded like labor/management stuff. I never thought too much about it at the time.”

  “What kind of problems? Surely none that might escalate into murder.”

  Kane shrugged. “You never know what sort of argument might precipitate a murder. Diego had worked for Brick for years as chief dock master—an important job at any marina and ship’s chandlery. After Brick read my letters to the editor and realized Diego and I stood at odds, he told me some of his problems with Diego that had nothing to do with Diego’s job as chief dock master.”

  “They had to do with the working waters dispute?”

  “Brick thought their differences more serious than that. The commissioners have a lot of say about the functioning of the ROGO.”

  “The county’s Rate of Growth Ordinance. I’ve heard Mother scream about that—about the difficulties she met when applying for a permit to build a new work shed or even to add a windbreak onto the hotel’s back entryway. Laws forced her to wait for weeks for her name to reach the top of the ROGO list so she could buy a permit to add the dance floor in The Frangi.”

  “Lots of people think the ROGO sucks. If someone tries to hide doing a little construction on his property without going through the ROGO, a jealous neighbor may report him in to authorities. And that usually results in the would-be builder facing a fine.”

  “Mother mentioned a neighbor who had to buy a permit to build a simple pine box to cover his air conditioner.”

  “Right.” Kane lowered his voice. “Rafa, this information must go no farther. It’s between the two of us. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Brick wants to add a hotel to his marina and he wants his son, Jessie, to manage it once it’s in operation.”

  “And the commissioners have a problem with that?”

  “One commissioner did—Diego. Diego liked the idea of Brick building the hotel, but he wanted Brick to name him manager, not Jessie. That hotel manager job would have meant big bucks to Diego. Brick balked at that idea and so did Threnody. Guess we both know that around Key West, Jessie carries a bad boy rep. He’s a wild card, doing as he pleases, getting whatever he wants whenever he wants it—and his folks want to see him gainfully employed in the family business.”

  “And what could Diego do about it?
Seems to me that a guy’s son would be the logical person to manage his dad’s hotel if that’s the way they both wanted it.”

  “Right, but Diego’s position as a commissioner gave him lots of power, lots of ability to influence the commissioners regulating the ROGO.”

  “Sounds like a lot of shenanigans could be afoot, right?”

  “Key West politics are full of red neck shenanigans, good-old-boy-behind-the-scenes stuff that most citizens know nothing about. Most people don’t give a rat’s eyebrow about a ROGO decision unless it’s their building permit that’s being delayed.”

  “So you’re saying that maybe Diego might have been using his influence to keep Brick’s name low on the ROGO.”

  “I’m not saying that, but it could be true. Also, it could be true that Diego might use his influence to move Brick’s name forward on the ROGO and get the permit sooner if Brick would agree to hiring Diego to manage the hotel.”

  “Did Jessie want to manage the hotel?”

  “Brick said Jessie wanted anything that meant more money in his pocket.”

  “Wonder if Jessie would settle for being chief dock master.”

  Kane snorted. “The Jessie I know avoids hard labor and dock masters face a lot of that.”

  “Kane, due to the building permit disagreement, Threnody and Jessie as well as Brick—all of them could be among the suspects in Diego’s death. We’re not the only ones.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You hinted that, Kane. You know you did.”

  “And you promised to keep my hints top secret.”

  “Of course. Depend on it. I keep my promises.” I stepped inside the wheel house and sat again in a deck chair. “Kane, even if I’m a suspect in this murder, I’d like to do some private investigating into Diego’s death.”

  Chapter 7

  (Still Sunday Morning)

  For several moments Kane stared at the horizon before he growled a response, his voice so low I had to lean forward to hear his words.

  “Don’t do it, Rafa. Don’t even consider it.”

  Kane seldom gave orders—at least not to me. I hesitated before I met his gaze. “Why not, Kane. I can’t see any harm in doing a little investigating on the side. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because at this point you’d be smart to keep out of any investigation. Because you’re the one who found Diego’s body and you’re a suspect in his murder. Because you’re a person of interest. Want to hear more? If you step forward and start your own investigation, you could damage both your present and your future writing career. You’d be smart to hang back for a while and see what happens.”

  “You may be right.” I stood, facing him, our eyes almost meeting on a level. “I don’t intend to step forward. So far nobody has asked me to do that. And I’m guessing nobody will. But I don’t think I can live with myself if I don’t make an effort to help find Diego’s killer. I’ll never forget seeing his head bobbing in the water below that catwalk, never forget feeling that raging sea pounding his body—and mine. Kane, his eyes rolled back into his head like a death mask. Can you imagine that horror?”

  Kane’s involuntary shudder spoke louder than words. “Let it alone, Rafa. Let Key West’s finest do their job without your help.”

  “Diego was my friend, Kane. My good friend. I wish you’d tell me more about what you’ve heard about the murder so far. Let me in on what you know—or what people have said to you. I have a strong feeling you’re holding important information from me.”

  “I’ve already told you all I know. Remember, I wasn’t out and about last night. I skipped the parade. Spent most of the evening aboard my boat tinkering with one of the motors before I heard the police broadcast and drove to the marina and then to the hospital. Not much chance to talk to anyone. And I’ve already told you what I know about Brick and Diego’s differences.”

  “If Brick wanted to build a hotel, Threnody must have wanted that, too.”

  “I vote yes on that one. Few wives wouldn’t welcome more money in the family till. Threnody’s a high-maintenance babe—a social light, as the saying goes. At least that’s what I’ve heard from your sister.”

  “Kane! I’ve never thought of Threnody as a babe. High maintenance, yes. Meaning she has to wear the right kind of designer clothes, has to drive the right kind of car—probably a new car every year, has to get her name in the Citizen as a supporter of worthy causes.”

  “Right. You’ve got the picture. According to Cherie, Threnody holds an office in the Lower Keys Women’s Club. She’s on the board that books top-notch entertainers to appear at the Tennessee Williams Theater. Also, she just finished a term on the school board.”

  “She keeps busy.” I shrugged. “Some women enjoy those activities. Her kind of women need lots of financial backing so they can finance charity balls and that kind of thing. I leave that life to Mother and Cherie, but I do like Threnody. She has a kind way of listening to me and cheering me on when I’m discouraged. Writers lead lonely lives.”

  “Sometimes I think you hide in your penthouse suite, hide and perhaps glory in the solitariness of your writing.”

  “Nothing wrong with preferring to be alone. I learned that from my grandmother, Kane. She taught me to love fishing as a child. That’s a solitary occupation and I didn’t need to learn to love it. My love of fishing came naturally.”

  “Maybe because practice made you so good at it. I’ve watched you cast lures almost into a fish’s mouth.”

  “Got to be able to cast to a target, Gram always said. People used to watch us practice fly casting on the lawn at Bay View Park. Gram would drop hibiscus blossoms on the lawn as targets, then we’d back off several yards and practice casting to them. We kept score. Gram usually won. But back to the Vextons—Threnody.”

  “Yes, Threnody.” Kane chuckled. “That woman spends money like water. I’m guessing she’d welcome the income from a hotel at their marina.”

  “Sometimes it surprises me that she’s willing to sing a few numbers with the combo at The Frangi.”

  “You’ve heard her sing, Rafa. You know she has a trained voice. I heard her tell Dolly that when she was in her teens and early twenties she studied voice at Julliard’s. In Key West, her church choir is about her only outlet for singing. I can understand her wanting other places to use her talent. I’m guessing she doesn’t mind the applause at The Frangi, either.”

  “If I were to investigate any murder, I’d start by trying to learn who last saw the victim alive.”

  “In Diego’s case that might be a hard fact to learn. Fiesta Fest Parade night was in full swing. Dozens of people might have seen him helping with the floats, helping traffic control, or just mingling with the crowd.”

  “True, but it’s strange that the murder took place at the marina. Who knew he’d be at the dock so late last night?”

  “I have no answer, Rafa. None.”

  I had no answer either, and for a while I said no more. Nor did Kane. Maybe I needed to sort out my own feelings, the true causes for the differences between Kane and me that kept us from growing closer. In my heart, I knew my feelings could be touching deep secrets, fueling buried reasons for my need to investigate Diego’s death. I could hardly bring myself to admit my secret life to myself, to admit the mistakes I’d made years ago, let alone to reveal them to Kane who might consider them reason to walk away from me forever. My deepest desire was for a home and a family. That certainly came before hostessing in The Frangi and before a writing career. But that desire was a secret known only to me. I wouldn’t let it cause me to break my deathbed promise to Dad.

  “Kane, who will replace Diego on the commissioner’s board?”

  “You’re already planning your investigation, right?”

  “Wrong. I’m just asking myself some questions that need to be answered. Quite likely the police will be making similar queries. Any idea who will replace Diego on the board?”

  “Haven’t the slightest. Don’t even know who
decides stuff like that. Some political bigwig probably appoints a capable person to fill out the board until the next election. Maybe the mayor. Maybe the county administrator. Maybe someone in the state department. I’ve never been into city, county, or state politics. Until the ‘working waters’ issue came up, I had no personal reason to be interested. Don’t go poking around for clues, Rafa.”

  “If I do any—poking around—as you put it, I’ll keep my actions covert. You’ll never notice.”

  “Be real. I’ve already noticed. You’re asking me pointed questions. Are you thinking that being in line to be selected as Diego’s replacement on the board might have motivated some guy to bring out the duct tape and rope?”

  “Guy? Are council members always men? I don’t think so! Murder’s an equal opportunity employer. Maybe a woman will replace Diego on the board. But whether the killer’s male or female, there’s one important thing to consider in this case. The culprit had to be strong enough to lift a body—a body attached to a concrete block. All that grunt work may not have been a woman’s sort of thing. I’m guessing the killer was a man.”

  “Although you say you have no plans to investigate this case, seems to me you’re getting deeply into it. Right?”

  “Wrong. Well, maybe not totally wrong. I’ve read that many killers are sociopaths—men without a conscience who like to murder women for the fun and pleasure it brings them. I can’t imagine Diego’s killer being a fun-and-games guy. I think he knew exactly who he wanted to kill and why. I think he had strong motive for his actions—probably financial.”

  “Are you ready to go now, Rafa? Want me to drive you back to the hotel?”

  I knew I’d already said enough, perhaps more than enough, about finding Diego’s killer. Maybe Kane knew best. Maybe I should stay out of it—except for being a prime suspect. It looked like I couldn’t avoid that.

  “I’d be glad to have your company, Kane. I’m going to have to talk to people sooner or later. I’ll try to start gradually.” I glanced at my watch. “Mother has hired the multi-talented Mama Gomez away from that soft drink bar on Caroline Street. She’ll now be making sandwiches at The Frangi as well as taking charge of the combo.”