Tango Key (33 page)

"Sorry to keep you folks waiting." She glanced quickly toward Muscle Man, frowning slightly, as if she were asking why there were two clients, instead of one.

"Ed Waite can't make it," Muscle Man said.

"No, I don't suppose he can." She looked at Aline, then Kincaid, her soft gray eyes like little balls of dough. "But I never do two readings for the price of one."

Kincaid removed four crisp fifties from his wallet and set them on the table. He rested his fingers lightly against them. "We're willing to pay for two."

"Ah. Well. No problem." She reached for the money. Kincaid's fingers tightened over the bills.

"A hundred in advance, a hundred on delivery."

She took umbrage at the implication that her reading might not be worth the second hundred, and sniffled. But she didn't argue. She took two fifties from the pile, set them aside and Muscle Man walked out onto the porch. He settled into a chair, feet propped on the railing. He was far enough away, Aline thought, to give them privacy, but close enough to fulfill his function as a bodyguard.

"Well, let's see what the cards hold for you folks this evening. You're lucky. You're catching me still fresh. I can sure feel the vibrations rolling off you two. Hmm." She shuffled the cards as she spoke. "You married?"

"Why don't you tell us?" Kincaid said.

"Hon, I don't see legal bonds. I see bonds of the heart. And that's what I'm seeing here. Loud and clear. Yes sir."

Aline looked down at her hands to hide her smile. Just then, Lilly moved her feet out from under her chair. She was wearing open-toed sandals, and her toenails were painted the color of raspberries.

I know those toes
. These were the same raspberry-painted toes she had seen that night in Plano's room.

She was no longer smiling when she glanced up.

Lilly, who continued to shuffle the cards, was explaining how they worked. She asked if they understood. Kincaid nodded. Aline nodded. Lilly smiled and also nodded. "Cut the cards, both of you, into three piles, left to right. Then we'll get started."

"Actually, I have a rather specific question," Aline said.

"I usually take the questions after the reading, dear."

"But this is something that might show up in the cards."

"I think we should wait until—"

"A friend of mine was murdered, and I want to know if the cards can tell me who did it," Aline went on, swinging her foot out, then back, as she smoothed her hands over her skirt. She hoped she looked nervous.

"A murder? Really?"

"Yes. His name was Juan Plano. He was the one who recommended you."

"Plano." She didn't avert her eyes, didn't do anything to indicate that the name was familiar. She was laying out the cards now, in the shape of a cross. "I don't think I know the name. But then, I read for so many people, it isn't possible to remember all the names, you know."

"You worked with him on a couple of archaeology projects."

Aline and Kincaid exchanged a glance.
Wait
, said his eyes.
For what?
asked her frown.

But he'd turned his attention to Lilly's cards. Aline didn't know anything about Tarot, but the first five cards sure didn't look promising. A devil, a crumbling tower, a fool, the world, and the high priestess. "My, what have we here," said Lilly. "Your obstacle, folks, seems to be a breakdown in communication." She tapped a raspberry nail against the crumbling tower. "The devil who's responsible for the breakdown in communication is someone you're close to."

"Does the devil have a name?" asked Kincaid.

"Hon, the cards don't give me names."

"As a psychic, can't you pick up names?"

"I'm a psychic counselor. There's a difference."

"Then how do you locate artifacts at archaeological sites?

"Like you did at Little Salt Springs?" Kincaid asked.

"Through dowsing. Now, this card . . ." Her raspberry nail slid to the next card, the fool.

"I thought dowsers tried to locate water, not artifacts," Aline remarked, noting that Lilly didn't like the direction in which the questions were taking them. Small signs of distress appeared in her face—a twitch under her right eye, the roll of her lips as she pressed them together.

"My dear, dowsing can be used to find anything. I'd be happy to answer your questions later, but let's get on with the reading right now, okay?"

"Is dowsing how you found the gold frog, Lilly?" asked Kincaid.

She gazed at him, squinting her gray eyes as though she were nearsighted, then suddenly scooped up the cards. "The reading is over. Good-bye. Pete," she called. "See them out."

Muscle Man hurried into the room. "You heard Lilly. The reading's over."

"I'm afraid it's just starting, friend. Have a seat," said Aline, and dropped her police I. D. on the table.

Lilly sat back with a deep sigh, her raspberry nails clicking against the cards as she shuffled them. She spread the cards in a fan on the table, then folded her hands on top of them. "The frog. Everyone's interested in the goddamn frog. Including me. Sure, I helped Juan find the bloody thing. He steered me in the right direction and I narrowed the choices. He was supposed to pay me a percentage on the sale."

"How much of a percentage?"

"Two percent."

Not bad, Aline thought, doing some rapid calculations. Two percent of seven million was a hundred and forty grand. "And what happened?"

She snorted. "He never paid, that's what happened."

"You went to Colombia without a retainer fee?" Kincaid asked. "Come on, Lilly. You don't look that stupid."

"Five thousand. That was what I was paid up front."

"When?"

"Around December of last year, I guess it was."

"And that was when you found the frog?" Aline asked.

"Well, no. I returned in April. That was when we found it."

Kincaid prodded: "For another five thousand retainer fee?"

"I bet you're a Leo, aren't you?" She wrinkled her nose as if she'd just smelled something unpleasant. "You Leos just love to prove you're right. Yeah, okay. Ten thousand in all in retainer fees. But that's nothing compared to two percent of what was paid for the frog."

"By Doug Cooper," said Aline.

Those gray eyes seemed heavier, weighed with some onerous burden as they slid toward Aline. "Yes."

"You knew Cooper?"

"I'd met him. And just so we don't have any misunderstanding, I was in Jacksonville the night he was killed. And I can prove it." She glanced back at Muscle Man. "Pete, in the bedroom. Find that Jacksonville folder, will you?"

Muscle Man got up and walked into the other room. No one spoke until he returned and set a folder in front of Lilly. She opened it and turned it toward Aline and Kincaid. "There. Airline tickets from Miami to Jacksonville, hotel stub, the appointment sheet for readings at a private party on the night of the seventh and during the day on the eighth."

"Whose name is at the top here?"

"The woman who gave the party."

"And this is her phone number?" Lilly nodded.

Lilly nodded.

"Then I'm sure you won't mind if we call her and verify your story," said Kincaid, getting up and walking over to the phone at the other end of the suite. Muscle Man's eyes followed him.

"Were you on the island the night of Juan's murder, Lilly?"

"I was staying at the Pier House in Key West."

"That isn't what I asked."

Panic: it bloomed briefly in her eyes, a flare of light inside the soft gray. "Yes. I was on Tango. I wanted to talk to Juan about the money he owed me. I'd called him, I'd left messages for him, and he never bothered returning them. So that night I decided to just pay him a visit. But when I got here and called the room, it was late and he didn't answer."

"What time was that?"

Aline's advantage was that she knew what time Lilly had been in Plano's room because she had also been there. It was possible that Lilly had killed him in the stairwell first, and then rushed to his room to look for money, but Aline doubted Lilly had killed anyone. Her only mistake was getting caught in the middle of Cooper's game.

Her jumpsuit crinkled at the bust as she sat forward. "Maybe around eleven-thirty, a quarter of twelve. Before midnight, anyway."

"So you called him and then what?"

"I, uh, oh hell. I came upstairs, okay? To Juan's room. I went through his things, looking to collect some of what he owed me. I got nervous and I left. God's honest truth. And since I can see you've got a bunch more questions, Detective, let me tell you something else. I don't know who killed Juan or Mr. Cooper or Ed Waite. But whoever did it isn't finished yet because that frog is cursed. It is. Anytime you take something like that from a tomb, it releases evil."

"The only thing the frog released was greed. Ed Waite was killed because he knew the identity of whoever was helping Cooper smuggle in his artifacts on this end. I don't suppose you would know who that person was, huh, Lilly?"

Forceful now, as if she hoped to convince herself as well as Aline: ''No."

"What's your relationship with Ted Cavello, Lilly?"

"I counsel him from time to time."

"On artifacts?"

"On personal matters."

There was a knock at the door. Lilly snapped her fingers and Muscle Man hopped up. "That'll be your next client," he said.

"Tell them the evening's been canceled," Aline said.

"You can't do that," Lilly burst, two bright spots of agitation coloring her cheeks.

"We can finish our talk here or at the station. It's up to you."

"I've told you everything I know."

Aline looked at Muscle Man. "Tell whoever's out there it'll be another few minutes."

He didn't move. He looked at Lilly. She snapped her fingers. "Do it."

Kincaid finished his call and returned to the table. "Her alibi checks out."

"Of course it does," sniffed an indignant Lilly. "Anything else, Detective?"

"Yes. We haven't talked about Alan Cooper yet. Or Eve Cooper."

"I never met Alan, and I've never met the lady. And that's it. That's all I know. Now, please, do you mind? I have clients waiting to see me."

"I'd like your home phone and address before we leave," Aline said.

Another snap of her fingers brought Muscle Man over to the table. He jotted the information on a sheet of paper and handed it to her. "I also included the answering service number."

"Thanks." Aline folded the sheet and dropped it in her purse. "And Lilly, when you're on Tango again, check in with me, huh?"

"Till the day I die, hon." She smiled sweetly as she said it and Muscle Man snickered

Kincaid picked up the two fifties remaining on the table and held out his palm for the other two. "We never got a reading. I'd like the hundred bucks back."

She slapped the bills against Kincaid's hand. My time's worth something, you know."

"Consider the last half hour your civic duty, lady," he replied.

Muscle Man opened the door for them, and they left.

T
he wind was damp, and the streets were slick from the rain that had pounded the island for most of the day. But a plump full moon, riper than a pumpkin, struggled through a plateau of clouds, illuminating the barbed-wire fence that embraced the boatyard where Murphy worked. The gate was closed, festooned by several chains and padlocks. Beyond it, in the wash of light, the old hulls and broken masts looked like gravestones that made their way to the edge of the sea and then vanished beneath the dark waters. And somewhere in the ruin, Aline thought, was Bella—Eve's sloop—which she'd sailed here from the Cove earlier that day.

"So much for this idea," Kincaid said, pulling to a stop in front of the gate.

Aline gestured toward the boathouse at the other end of the fence. Its windows blazed, and several cars were parked out in front. "Old man Jones has a poker game in progress. Let's stop in. I'll tell him we'd like to take a look around."

Kincaid nodded and drove on to the boathouse. As they got out of the car, she heard raucous laughter from inside, and music. She didn't see Murphy's Scirocco among the cars in front, even though he had rarely missed one of old man Jones' poker games. But Murphy had other things to occupy him now.

She knocked on the door, the music was lowered, and old man Jones shuffled to the door and opened it. When he saw who it
       
was, his pitch black face broke into a wide-white grin.

"Allie. Jezus, girl, you come for dah game?"

Aline chuckled. "No way. I'd lose my shirt, Willie."

She introduced him to Kincaid, and Jones, who was shorter than Aline and thinner than a rake, drew his eyes from Kincaid's face to his feet and back up again and let out a low whistle. "Goddamn, boy. What'd your mama feed you?"