I said, “Anybody want to come home and help me with the laundry?”
There were no takers. They were all too busy concentrating on their yummy sardines to pay me any mind.
While they ate, I did a quick run through the house, righting overturned trash baskets and checking for any other accidents. In the guest bathroom, somebody had made confetti of the toilet paper roll, and there was a scattering of kitty litter that had been pawed out of one of the three litter boxes in the laundry room. They might not have been as neat and tidy as Dame Wiggins of Lee’s cats, but they were just as wonderful.
By the time I had cleaned the litter boxes and put everything back in order, everyone was done with dinner and the Kitty Craziness Factor was through the roof. Usually I worry about leaving my pets all alone in their houses—even if I’ve spent a good chunk of time playing with them—but these guys provided each other with so much attention and exercise that I didn’t feel guilty leaving them. In fact, I think if they’d been able to open a can of sardines by themselves, they wouldn’t have needed me at all.
I was headed out to the car when my cell phone rang. It was Detective McKenzie. I imagined Kenny had told her his story by now, and she was probably calling to find out what he’d told me and if our stories matched.
Before I answered, I took a deep breath. I wanted to be ready for whatever tricks she had up her sleeve.
“Dixie, I wanted to let you know our crime units are pulling out of the Harwick house now.”
I said, “Oh, okay. I guess I can bring the cat back?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Mrs. Harwick isn’t coming home yet. She’s afraid to sleep in the house until the killer has been caught. She’s asked if you could continue to feed her fish for a little while longer.”
I could tell by the tone in McKenzie’s voice that Mrs. Harwick was probably still in a state of shock. If it were me, I don’t think I’d ever want to go home again.
The last time we had talked, McKenzie mentioned that a doctor had been called in for Mrs. Harwick, probably to prescribe some sort of sedative to help her sleep. I wanted to know if that had helped at all, but I knew it wasn’t my place to ask.
McKenzie said, “Still no word from Kenny Newman?”
I closed my eyes and silently shook my head. “Oh, no.”
“What? I’m assuming you’ve not heard from him?”
I sighed. “Detective McKenzie, he showed up at my apartment late last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. He promised he was turning himself in as soon as he left. I just assumed he was telling the truth.”
There was a slight pause on the line, and then she said, “We need to talk. Where’s convenient for you?”
* * *
We agreed to meet near the pavilion at Siesta Key Beach. We were alone except for a group of teenagers in swimming trunks and bikinis, huddled around their soft drinks and eating hot dogs at one of the picnic tables. They were tearing little pieces of their hot dog buns and tossing them to the sparrows that were pecking around under the tables.
Detective McKenzie was waiting for me at one of the benches that face the beach. In her plain tan skirt and navy blue blazer, she stood out like a sore thumb. I got the feeling she didn’t spend a lot of time on the beach, and she had probably never worn a bikini in her life. She was wearing a pair of big-framed sunglasses, and her frizzy sorrel hair was pulled under a wide-brimmed straw hat, which provided some protection for her pale, freckled skin from the hot afternoon sun.
When I walked up, she stood and shook my hand firmly.
“Thanks for meeting me, Dixie. It’s much easier to talk in person than on the phone.”
I muttered something vague like “Sure is,” but the truth was I didn’t want to talk to her at all. For some insane reason I still felt a lingering loyalty to Kenny, some inexplicable desire to protect him, even though he’d given me his word that he would turn himself in to the police as soon as he left my apartment. Apparently he’d had other plans.
As I sat down she said, “First of all, does he have Becca?”
I shook my head sadly. “No. He says he has no idea where she is.”
“Alright. And I don’t suppose he told you where he’s staying.”
I shook my head again. “No.”
She smiled uncomfortably. “Well, now that we’ve got that over with. Tell me everything that happened last night.”
I told her the entire story, including how Kenny had asked me not to let the police hear the message he’d left on my answering machine. She pulled her clipboard out of her bag and made a few notes as I talked, but she didn’t say a word until I got to the part where Kenny said he was Mr. Harwick’s son.
She held up one hand to stop me. “Wait a minute. He’s been working in the Harwick house for months.”
“I know. He was going to tell them who he was, but I think he was scared.”
“So he never told them?”
“He did. He called Mr. Harwick.”
“When?”
“The night before I found him in the pool.”
“Does Mrs. Harwick know about this?”
I said, “I don’t think so. Mr. Harwick was whispering on the phone, so Kenny got the impression he was trying to hide it from her. They agreed to meet at the house, and Mr. Harwick drove back from Tampa that night. They met alone. He told Kenny he was sorry, and he wanted to make it up to him. He said he would buy Kenny a house and give him money and put him in his will, but Kenny didn’t want anything to do with it. He told Mr. Harwick that he wasn’t there for money. He just wanted his father to tell him to his face why he had run away.”
She took off her sunglasses and looked me squarely in the eye. “Dixie, let me get this straight. It’s the middle of the night. This man who’s been missing since Mr. Harwick drowned shows up at your door out of nowhere. You know the police are looking for him. You’re all alone. Why in the world would you let him in your house?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I suddenly felt my cheeks turning red. “Well … I wasn’t alone, actually.”
She waved her hand like a teacher erasing a chalkboard. “Okay, forget that. Why would you let him in your house at all?”
I thought for a moment, but I couldn’t come up with a good answer. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have let him in. I guess I trusted him.”
She put her sunglasses back on. “Yes, I’m beginning to see that. So how did their meeting end?”
“Kenny told Mr. Harwick he didn’t want anything from him, including his money. And to prove it, he gave him an envelope with all the letters that Mr. Harwick had ever sent him, including checks that he never cashed.”
I paused for a moment. I knew that what I was about to say was not going to sound good, but I also knew I didn’t have a choice. “He also said that he told his father he could take his money and rot in hell. Then he left.”
Detective McKenzie frowned. “This packet of letters, did he say where it was?”
“No. He said he gave it to Mr. Harwick before he left.”
She nodded. “That’s interesting. There was no packet of letters in that house when we searched it.”
The teenagers had gone down to the beach and were running in and out of the waves and laughing in that carefree way kids do. A small brown sparrow perched on the table next to ours and pitched a couple of bossy chirps at us. I think he was checking to see if we had any hot dog buns for him.
It was hard to tell what Detective McKenzie was thinking. She had laid her clipboard down in her lap and was resting her hands on it.
“Dixie, tell me what you know about Becca.”