Cold Case Killer Page 8

  “How does she know who those divers were? Seems to me it might make more sense for the killer to have offed Randy. Then he’d still have Dyanne alive and well and all to himself.”

  “Strong point. Why not Randy instead of Dyanne? So there are two ways of looking at that murder. Randy gave Consuela the names of some of those divers he considers potential suspects—Beau being one of them.”

  “Dad! Cool your jets, Keely.” Punt stared at me, and I hoped he’d begun taking my words seriously. The case was hitting too close to home for his comfort. “I know Dad’ll be able to give us an airtight alibi once he and Jass get back from England.”

  “Give us an alibi? Us? I want nothing to do with this case. Nada. I’m doing my part by suggesting the Jacksons talk to professionals—you and Nikko.”

  “Consider the ‘us’ a slip of the tongue. What other divers did Consuela mention besides Dad?”

  “One of the first was Gus Helmer. Remember him?”

  “The shrimper who works the Pink Gold?”

  “Right. He’s one of my current clients. And she mentioned Slone Pierce, and Ace Grovello, and Reverend Soto. They all worked for Mel Fisher in the early eighties, and they’re all still living and working in Key West, but no longer as divers.”

  “Reverend Soto? Ridiculous! Consuela’s a few innards short of a chum bag. According to what I remember reading about the case, Soto’s the person who fought to get Randy released. Soto and Shelley Hubble. Consuela’s crazy and I don’t want anything to do with her and/or Randy Jackson.”

  “I’d hoped…”

  “There are lots of things I’d do for you, Keely, but investigating people Consuela suspects of murder isn’t one of them. Please don’t ask me to get involved with Consuela. She’s a wannabe writer out to use you—or me—to make a name for herself.”

  “Punt?” I’d buried my guilt at not stepping forward to help Randy and my fears for as long as I could. “Punt, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  Punt sighed. “Give. But if it involves Consuela, I’m unlikely to change my mind about the Randy Jackson case anytime soon.”

  “This morning I found a threatening note on my office door.” I imagined alarm bells going off in Punt’s mind as he stared deep into my eyes. “Maxine received a similar note. And later we both received death-threat phone calls.”

  “What’d the note say? What’d the caller say?”

  Repeating the note contents to Punt was like reading an etching engraved in my brain.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Punt sat up and looked toward his boat.

  “Guess I thought I could deal with my problems on my own. Then I changed my mind when you refused to help Randy. My working alone on the case wouldn’t be fair to the Jacksons. They need the best help they can get—you and Nikko, once Nikko gets back from Tallahassee.”

  “Show me the note. I might be able to get some fingerprints off it at the office.”

  “It’s at my apartment. In my jumpsuit pocket.”

  Punt stood and we began folding the blanket. “Come on, Keely. Let’s go.”

  “Does this mean you’ll help the Jacksons investigate the Darby murder?”

  “Yes, now that you’re involved. You don’t think I’d turn you down, do you? When can the four of us get together for a meeting?”

  “I can’t speak for the others for sure, but how about tomorrow after my last patient? If that suits you, Maxine, and Randy, it’s a plan.” I carried our sandwich wrappers and soda cans as we splashed into the water and boarded the boat. Punt ground the motor three times before it started then I clutched the edges of the passenger seat for support as he gunned the boat on plane and we skimmed across the water toward Key West.

  At the marina Punt tipped a dockhand to care for his boat, a chore he usually preferred to do himself. I knew then for sure that my news about the note and phone call had caught his full attention. He broke the speed limit getting to my office, but no cop stopped us. Nor did one appear when he parked in a no parking zone.

  “Where’s your door key?” He held out his hand and I dropped the key into it. “Wait here while I enter first.”

  I waited, hovering close behind him.

  “What be going here?” Gram hurried from her shop. “Car in bad place. Police have it towed. At owner’s expense.” Then she stood in front of the Karmann Ghia as if she might try to protect it with her life.

  “It’s okay, Celia,” Punt said, stepping outside. “I’m going to find a better parking place right now.” He drove away and Gram and I waited in my outer office for a few minutes. I’d just finished telling Gram about my big bonefish when Punt returned. Gram was eager to see my romance with Punt flourish, so she told us goodnight and disappeared into her shop.

  “No sign of a forced entry,” Punt said, checking both my doors. “Now show me the note.”

  I grabbed my jumpsuit from the bedroom chair and pulled the note from the pocket, spreading it on the bedside table so he could read it.

  “Very amateurish.”

  “Think maybe some kid’s trying to scare me?”

  “I might think that if Maxine hadn’t received a similar note. Do you have a Ziploc bag? I’ll take the note to my office and check it for prints.”

  I found a baggie and Punt had slipped the note into it and was tucking it into his shirt pocket when we heard a sharp thud along with the sound of shattering glass.

  ELEVEN

  Dashing into my office, I saw a gaping hole in my front window and a chunk of coral rock lying on the floor beside my desk. Duct tape held a note on the rock. Broken glass crunched underfoot and rough edges of the rock cut into my hand as I grabbed it and opened the note. Punt and I studied the scrawled message.

  TAKE CARE, KEELY—UNLESS YOU REALLY WANT TO DIE.

  “Same kind of writing.” Holding the paper by the edges, Punt turned the note over, but there was nothing on the other side. “Same kind of ink.” He laid the rock and the note back where we’d found them and reached for his cell phone.

  “Wait. What’re you going to do?”

  “Call the police. I know we shouldn’t have touched the crime scene, but the idea of someone threatening you, putting you in danger… Too late for regrets now.”

  “Crime scene?” I looked from the coral rock to the hole in my window while Punt keyed in 911. I hated to admit that my office, my home, was a crime scene.

  “You can’t let someone get by with threatening you—damaging your property. We have to report this to the police.”

  I wanted no interaction with the police, but I trusted Punt’s decision and I went along with it with no argument. By that time Gram and a few tourists had come running to my office doorway, gawking, spouting questions. With her earrings bobbing and her long skirt swishing, Gram pushed ahead of the others and rushed to stand beside me while she glared at the shattered glass, the rock, the note.

  “What vandal do this, Keely?” She turned toward my apartment. “I call policia.”

  I pulled her to my side and patted her arm. “Punt’s calling the police. It’s all right, Gram. Nothing’s been hurt but the window.”

  “No be all right. You be in danger. Someone try to hurt you.”

  We managed to shush Gram. In a few minutes two cops that I’d met many times elbowed their way through the onlookers and began questioning us. At the sight of the uniforms, the tourists began to back off. No surprise there. Nobody wants to be involved, but everyone wants to know the skinny.

  “Don’t anyone leave.” Officer Bremmer ordered. The onlookers froze in place—at least for the moment. They reminded me of Key deer caught in a car’s headlights. Both cops looked as if they might have been linebackers for Florida State. Jeff Bremmer, the tall, red-haired one did the talking. Officer Hillie Hilsabeck, balding and burly, guarded the door, making sure nobody entered or exited. After Jeff studied the situation for a few moments, he pulled a small notebook from his pocket and clicked a ballpoint ready for action.
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  “Whose property is this?” he asked.

  I stepped forward. “Mine, Jeff. It’s my business office and living quarters.”

  “Your name, please.” He spoke as if we were strangers and I went along with it.

  He fired the usual questions at me, pausing only when I gave my occupation as a professional foot reflexologist. I guessed he’d forgotten about my occupation—or maybe he had aches and pains he thought I might be able to help. I’ve learned to view people as potential customers. Even cops.

  “Any idea who might have done this?”

  “No.”

  He turned to the crowd. “Any of you see anyone heave the rock, run off?”

  Nobody spoke. He eyed the onlookers, making each one squirm and look away.

  “Those of you with no business here may leave. Do so now, please.”

  Once the crowd left, Officer Hilsabeck picked up the rock and the note. Hillie Hilsabeck. We’d been on a first-name basis, but for now he was Officer Hilsabeck.

  “I’ll take the evidence to headquarters and have it dusted for prints. Nothing further we can do now. Call us if you have more problems.”

  “That’s all you can do?” Punt stepped forward blocking Hillie’s exit.

  “We’ll have a bike cop patrol this address frequently through the night,” Jeff said.

  Both officers left, and Gram began scurrying around picking up glass shards and dropping them into my wastebasket.

  “Let me do that, Celia,” Punt said. “You’ll cut yourself. Why don’t you make us lattes and we’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Gram scowled. “What you do about window? One touch and it fall.”

  “I’ve some leftover building scraps at my office,” Punt said. “We’ll nail a piece of drywall over the window and call a repairman in the morning.”

  “How you get drywall from your place to this place?” Gram asked. “Tiny yellow convertible won’t hold nuttin’.” Then she flashed a smile as if suddenly realizing that a successful matchmaker shouldn’t criticize a prospective groom—or his car. “But don’t worry none. I got friend with truck.”

  Gram disappeared for a few minutes, and by the time she returned, we had cleaned up the glass shards and a jeans-clad man wearing a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead sat waiting outside in a pickup.

  “Go with Jose, Punt. Show him to your office and the drywall.”

  When Gram spouts orders, people tend to obey—even Punt who’s never been a fast study when it comes to taking orders.

  “I stand outside and guard the window hole until you return,” Gram said. “Go now. Vaminos. Be off.” She pulled a long tortoise-shell hairpin from her topknot bun, brandishing it like a dagger.

  I saw Punt cork a grin at the idea of Gram’s fending off a vandal with a hairpin. True night blanketed the island now and I felt the sea air cool my face and dampen my hair. Gram and I both stood on the sidewalk outside my office. I kept my cell phone in hand, but nothing threatening happened. Nobody accosted us. Punt soon returned with hammer, nails, and drywall and after he and Jose covered the hole in my window, Punt slipped him a twenty.

  “Want me to stand guard tonight?” Jose smiled and pocketed the twenty. “I park in front. Keep one eye open. Nobody bother place while Jose on guard.”

  Punt gave him another twenty. “Do it, okay?”

  We went to Gram’s shop and enjoyed lattes. She’d added my favorite cinnamon flavoring to mine. When we rose from the bar stools to leave, Punt took my hand.

  “Keely’s staying at my place tonight, Celia.”

  “But…” Gram started to protest, but her matchmaking skills kicked in and she nodded agreement. “I no approve of such…shacking up. But want safety for Keely.”

  I gave her a goodnight kiss, locked my office door, and slid into the Karmann Ghia beside Punt, trying to forget that someone on this island wanted me dead.

  “We could make this a regular thing, Keely.” Punt grinned at me. “All you have to do is to say yes. It would make Celia and me happy to see us living in wedded bliss.”

  “I wish it were that simple. It wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve better than a part-time companion, but that’s all I can offer until I get my head on straight.”

  Punt gave me a sideways glance. “Looks straight enough to me.”

  “I’m still seeing a therapist, but sometimes I don’t think she’s helping. She seems to be suggesting I deal with the past, get over it, and move on.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me—as long as you move on to my place on a permanent basis. Keely?”

  I loved Punt and I wished I could agree to move in with him. But as long as my Jude-oriented nightmares kept terrorizing my sleep, I knew I had to keep my own apartment. No fair making Punt share the fallout from my past. My divorce had ended Jude’s abuse. His death had ended my fear of him. I wondered what it would take to end the horror-filled dreams that threatened to make every night a challenge.

  “Keely?”

  Snapping to attention, I looked into Punt’s eyes as we paused at a stop light. “Yes?”

  “Have you considered forgiving Jude? Don’t toss me a quick answer. Think about it. Give it some deep thought.”

  I glared at Punt. “You think I should forgive him after all the pain he put me through? All the humiliation? All the…”

  “I’m asking you to consider it. After Dad and I forgave each other for our various transgressions, our reconciliation forged a stronger bond between us.”

  “But Jude’s dead. And if he were alive, I’d want no part of a reconciliation. I want to forget him.”

  “Nothing would please me more than to have you forget Jude Cardell. But first forgive him. Think about it, okay?”

  I gave way. I couldn’t be so hardheaded as to refuse to think about a request from a man dear to me. I placed my hand on his arm. “All right, Punt. I’ll think about forgiving Jude. I’ll talk it over with my shrink. Maybe she can help. It could be a part of her get-over-it-and-move-on advice.”

  “I won’t mention this again. The bait’s on your hook. Right now we’ve got to think about these threats.”

  “We’ve?” I felt a surge of hope. “Then you’ve decided to investigate the Darby murder?”

  “Decided to investigate for your sake, that’s for sure. I won’t decide about helping Randy Jackson until I meet him.”

  I didn’t see how Punt could help me without helping Randy, but I said no more. Punt pulled into the carport at the Ashford mansion, parking beside Jass’s lavender VW, and I peered around us as if someone might be hiding on the premises waiting for me to appear. Waiting. Waiting to pounce. But nothing seemed amiss. Yet.

  I glanced up at the widow’s walk. Because the widow’s walk with its perimeter lights was one of Key West’s favorite tourist attractions, Jass had left the bulbs burning while she and Beau toured England. The huge three-story mansion with its gingerbread trim and wrap-around galleries on each floor reminded me of a white wedding cake with the widow’s walk making a platform for a bride and groom.

  Beau, a long-time widower, had leased the mansion to Punt and Jass when he married Margaux. I led the way up the stairs then stood aside while Punt unlocked the door. When we stepped inside the one large white-walled room, I looked around warily.

  “Relax, Keely. You’re in no danger here.”

  “I know that. But I feel as if I’m being watched…followed.”

  I tried to cork my fear and enjoy the apartment. Punt had used white wicker furniture to divide the space into living-dining room, bedroom, and kitchen. Dive flags, boat flags, and flags from foreign countries decorated the walls. They gave the apartment a nautical look without the usual clichés of rope-framed seascapes, life buoys, and fishing nets dotted with dried starfish.

  I crossed the white tile floor of the entryway and walked into the living room where a jewel-toned couch and chairs formed a conversation area around a coffee table.

  “Want to change from our fishing clothes
and go out to dinner?” Punt began pulling off his sweatshirt. “Or if you’re not too particular I could nuke some leftovers and we could eat here.”

  “Let’s eat here, okay? I really don’t want to go outside again. Had enough excitement for one day.”

  “Meaning that you don’t find my cooking exciting?”

  “I find almost everyone’s cooking exciting—except my own. Let’s stay here where I feel safe.”

  “It’s a plan. How about a shower and some fresh clothes?”

  “A second plan.” Punt’s round bed and the mirrored ceiling above it sometimes bother me if I stop to wonder who he might have shared the area with before I dropped back into his life. But tonight I put such thoughts from my mind. I opened the closet where Punt had reserved a section of the clothes rod for my things and pulled out a robe and slippers. I headed for the shower with Punt close behind me.

  We skinned from our clothes, then with the warm water flowing over our bodies, Punt pulled me to him, kissing me, holding me tight, then lathering us both with jasmine-scented soap. The temptation to stay in the shower forever lasted until the water began to cool. At last Punt turned off the stream and we stepped onto a fluffy bath mat. Punt dried me and I dried him, touching each other in very private places before we slipped into our robes.

  “No reason this couldn’t be a permanent arrangement, Keely.”

  No reason, I thought, except for Jude Cardell who continued to haunt me from the grave, who continued to remind me of my weaknesses and shortcomings, who even in death forced the memory of his demanding body into my dreams.

  “Maybe, Punt. Maybe soon.”

  “Have you told your therapist of my invitations?”

  “Yes. She’s on your side. All the way.”

  “Better do as the good doctor says.”

  “At least for tonight. That’s for sure.”