I said, “Kenny, this is Dixie. You need to call me. Right away. I don’t know what you’ve done, but I just need to talk to you before … before things get out of hand. I’m not mad at you, I just need you to call me the minute you get this, okay?”
I paused for a second, as if he might answer, and then hung up. I peeled off my clothes, tossed them on top of the washer, and stepped into the shower. I stood there for a few blissful moments and let the hot water stream down my body. When Becca had first poured her heart out to me, she had said she was completely afraid of telling her mother she was pregnant by the pool man. Could Becca have turned to her stepfather for help? Perhaps he’d snuck out and driven home in the middle of the night. Tampa is only a little more than an hour away by car. Maybe he’d come home to console Becca, only to find her in the house alone with Kenny … and then what? Had there been a fight?
I knew there were things in Kenny’s past that he wasn’t proud of. Michael and Paco were right, why else would he live on a boat and only work odd jobs for cash? Even so, I couldn’t imagine him hurting a flea. And yes, Becca was impetuous, immature, and an emotional disaster, and she didn’t seem too fond of her stepfather, either, but she couldn’t be a murderer. She just couldn’t. I started to feel a little knot at the center of my chest. It was just a small tightening of the muscles there.
I toweled myself off and put on a clean pair of shorts, a sleeveless white tee, and a fresh pair of Keds. I sat down at my desk, and Ella hopped up and curled into a purring ball in my lap. I ran my hand down the length of her spine and thought, If only she could talk to Charlotte in whatever secret language cats speak, then we’d have some answers. I shuddered at the thought that poor Charlotte must have witnessed everything that had happened.
Forget it. I opened some mail and paid a few bills, trying to think about anything else. I left a message for a prospective client, a woman with a Yorkshire terrier that lives out on South Coconut Bayou, and then I tried to balance my checkbook, but it was no use. I had given myself a good talking-to, but apparently my self hadn’t been listening. My mind kept flashing back to one particular moment. When I had pulled the body up on to the edge of the pool and moved the tangle of black hair away, I hadn’t for one second considered the possibility that it might be Mr. Harwick.
But I wasn’t surprised when I saw his face. I wasn’t surprised one bit.
13
Some afternoons on the Key can be as hot as blue blazes, especially in the summer when the sun reaches its highest point in the sky. The crickets and birds and frogs all take a break, finding cover in the shade and giving their voices a well-deserved rest. Afternoon clouds sneak in off the shore all demure and innocent, but before you know it they let loose with a torrent of rain and lightning bolts, sending golfers and beachcombers dashing for cover. Then, just as quickly as they rolled in, the clouds roll out. The sun shines through again, the leaves all sparkle, and the crickets, birds, and frogs start warming up for their evening performance, which usually begins about the same time the sun starts her slow descent into the Gulf.
It was a little after two o’clock when I headed out for my afternoon rounds. I called Dr. Layton to let her know I’d be late picking up our feathered friend. I didn’t tell her why. I was itching to talk to somebody about what had happened, but I knew I couldn’t, especially since there hadn’t been an official announcement from the police yet and I didn’t want to do anything that might compromise the investigation. Instead, I told her I’d had a “client-related mishap” and left it to her imagination. She told me not to worry, that René was doing fine. He was in his cage on Gia’s desk by the front window, basking in all the love and attention he was getting from everybody in the clinic.
I imagined that by now Mrs. Harwick was on her way back from Tampa, and somebody had probably gotten hold of Becca and told her what had happened. Becca’s relationship to her stepfather seemed complicated, but I knew it must have been devastating for her, especially when she was already in such emotional turmoil. I hadn’t heard from Detective McKenzie yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d get the call to meet her at the station. I was dreading it. Being back at that station brings up all kinds of memories that I long ago figured out how to suppress.
At the Suttons’ house, Sophie had knocked over a potted palm in the living room, which wasn’t all that surprising. On the outside, Sophie looks like a sweet, domesticated house cat, but inside she’s a tiger, and a very frisky tiger at that, so she’s always on the prowl for mischief. There was so much dirt scattered around I think she must have spent half the day engaged in a mighty battle with an imaginary mouse, or at least I hoped it was imaginary. I righted the palm and vacuumed up the dirt while Sophie watched me from the back of an armchair with a mildly disdainful look, as if I was spoiling all the fun. But I didn’t feel too guilty. I had something else in store for her.
I like to get all the grooming out of the way in the morning so afternoons are free for playtime. Sophie must have known what was coming next, because after I put the vacuum away and headed for the kitchen, she ran ahead and raced around the center island a couple of times, slipping and sliding on the tile floor. That’s her warm-up.
I pulled a white Ping-Pong ball out of my pocket and held it out at arm’s length. “Ready?”
She made a sound that was less like meow and more like ackackack! and twitched her whiskers with pure, unadulterated excitement.
I let the ball drop, and then both Sophie and the Ping-Pong ball went bopping and bouncing all over the kitchen for a good five minutes. That gave me the opportunity to check the house for any other mayhem she might have wreaked, and it gave her the opportunity to unleash some of that boundless kitty power. She was still at it when I came back, so I even had time to fill her bowl with fresh water and get her dinner ready. If I ever come up with a way to harness the energy created by a cat and a Ping-Pong ball, we won’t need to dig any more oil wells and us cat owners will all be billionaires.
I still had a couple more clients to check on, but first I wanted to stop by Dr. Layton’s office. I knew Joyce and Corina were waiting to hear how René was doing, and I was eager to get him back to Joyce’s so I could get the news on Corina’s appointment with the doctor. I prayed her baby had gotten a good bill of health—things were already hard enough as they were, and Corina didn’t need any more problems on her plate. Thinking about Corina and her baby made the wings of my heart flutter a bit and the corners of my mouth sneak up in a little smile. It made me feel good to know we’d at least given Corina a safe place to stay while she got her bearings. That was one less thing she needed to worry about.
I parked outside Dr. Layton’s office and grabbed René’s cage from the back. Before I went in, I fished my cell phone out and dialed Kenny’s number again. It went straight to his voice mail. If Ken knew what was good for him, he would’ve called me back by now. I figured he probably didn’t like the idea that I was trying to track him down, but he certainly wasn’t going to be any happier when he started getting calls from the homicide department—and if he didn’t talk to me first there was a pretty good chance he’d wind up at the top of the suspects list.
Inside, René was in a cage on Gia’s desk with a view of the waiting room, where there were four or five people watching him with the attention normally reserved for a good TV show, like he was their own personal nature channel. They all looked up at me when I came in, waiting to see my reaction to such a rare and splendid thing. He was clearly the star of the clinic.