The Gallery of the Dead (Tropical Breeze Cozy Mystery Book 3) (18 page)

From the Journal of Edson-Darby Deaver

My call to Barnabas was brief.

“I’m coming home,” I said.

There was a pause. “Really? I have nothing to report.”

“I’ve just been talking to Taylor.”

“Ah, I see. She is much more in tune with the social whirl of Tropical Breeze than I. So she has come through. Good.”

Tropical Breeze has its share of human drama per capita, I suppose, but I had never seen it as the background of a social whirl. Still, Barnabas should know. He was born there.

“How is our little friend?” We were using code words by now. Rather exciting. The “little friend,” of course, was Jinx, as Barnabas and I both very well knew. It was why Barnabas had given him a job when he actually needed no employees. It gave us a measure of control over an explosive situation. For a pair of normally sedentary fellows, we were living dangerously, and both, I think, enjoying it. Also hoping it wouldn’t blow up in our faces. Barnabas was perfectly aware of the danger, but his roots in Tropical Breeze were too deep to allow a murder there to go unsolved. He was on his guard. He assured me that would be enough.

“Our little friend is still incognito.”

“Good. Keep him away from Taylor. She recognized him. We don’t want any, um, mishaps, before I can get there.”

“Ten-four, commander.”

“Over and out.”

Without setting the phone down, I immediately made contact with my other deep-cover operative, Bernie Horning.

“The Royal Palm hasn’t sold yet,” she told me.

“Good, but that’s not what I called about. I’m coming home.”

“Oh?” She took the cigarette out of her mouth and spoke more clearly. “Enemies at the gate,
mon capitan?
”

“They may already have penetrated. That’s what I’m coming back to investigate.”

“Good. I’m sick of waiting. Where do we start? I want to help.”

I thought about it, but in the end I had to give it a no-go. “We can’t do this together, Bernie. We’re two of the few people in town who spent time at The Royal Palm while all this was going on. We don’t want to show our hand. I’ll take a look; you stay out of it. That’s an order.”

She didn’t like it, but she agreed, not without grumbling. “I suppose you think I’m too old for a manhunt, and maybe you’re right.”

“Don’t try that on me, Bernie. You may throw other people off with the poor-pathetic-old-me act, but you don’t fool me.”

She chuckled, said, “Nuts to you,” and hung up.

In the careful arranging of chess pieces, Teddy was up next. I was beginning to realize that the real brains of the outfit were in Lily’s head, so I attacked there (so to speak).

I went to the two of them and explained that I needed to go home to do research on our next project. I think I said I’d left a few details hanging. I don’t remember. It was a lie anyway, and I’m not a good liar. My policy in such situations is to be vague and brief.

“Why go home?” Teddy asked. “Information is in the air all around you. Boot up your computer and pull some of it up on the screen.”

“I can’t. I need my reference books, and some of them are rare. I won’t be able to find them at the town library. I need to go home, but don’t worry, I’ll rejoin you in San Francisco in time for our next episode.”

“Fine. We wouldn’t mind kicking around San Francisco for a few days of R&R, right, Lily?”

She was looking at me suspiciously and took a moment to answer. “You know, I kind of miss that little town. Why don’t we go back with Edson and help him with his research?”

“No, no,” I said, “you two go on and enjoy yourselves. Shop around. Go to the Wharf. Eat fish.”

Lily started looking like a clever cat. “I like Atlantic seafood better. What about it, Teddy? You could see your Dad. Taylor would give us a room. You could drive around in your precious car.” He had the Austin-Healy under a tarp at Cadbury House.

“No, no,” I repeated, more desperately.

Teddy was looking down at Porter’s smiling face. Porter adored him, responding to every new inflection in Teddy’s voice.

“What do you think, boy?” Teddy asked the dog.

Porter barked over his always-flapping tongue, drooled on the floor, ran around in a circle and sat down again.

“Porter wants to go,” Teddy declared. “Let’s pack.”

“No, no,” I said again, but in a small, defeated voice. It was over; they were coming.

At least the crew found better things to do. With me keeping an eye on Teddy, Wyatt felt he could go home for a quick visit to his family, and Elliott declared himself willing to go anywhere in the world other than Tropical Breeze, unless he was being paid double-time-and-a-half.

I spent the morning walking around Tropical Breeze, visiting various establishments and being subtly observant. A brief visit to The Bookery assured me that Barnabas had the situation well in hand. I watched his new employee, “Fred,” stacking books with a look of genuine interest. He was tackling “British History, Wars of the Roses,” arranging the books chronologically by combatants. Happy man. He had to at least skim each book to understand which Yorkist was trying to assassinate which Lancastrian, and vice versa. I had to restrain myself from going over to help. Barnabas had given our Fred a dream job. Hours of fun.

I took Barnabas aside and told him to hold the fort; it wouldn’t be much longer.

“
Fred?
Really?” I asked as I prepared to leave. “Hardly a
nom de guerre
I’d expect a young man to choose.”

Barnabas shrugged. “It was how he presented himself.”

“I see. When all is revealed, we’ll have to ask him about it, if we get the chance. Watch your back,” I muttered as I made for the door.

Ishmael, his devoted cat, was nervously watching, and somehow that gave me comfort.

By the time I decided to stop for lunch Don’s Diner was jammed, and I didn’t want to see too many people I knew. Also, I was getting a headache. I love the diner, but when it’s busy, it’s loud and lively. People have even been known to throw French fries.

Perks was busy, too, but with a different crowd: non-native young people with computers, e-readers, homework, and lunchtime hook-ups in a safety zone. No French fries. And people my age are invisible to them, so I could sit among them and quietly observe.

Ronnie, the owner, was back behind the counter, working her perpetual motion machine. All it does is make tiny amounts of espresso, but for some reason it was built to look like it had a secret door to Wonderland – castle-like, with fanciful scrolls, levers, dials, steam vents and nozzles, as complicated as a nuclear reactor, but one that had been built for a little girl. Ronnie worked it like a concert master, but often the machine seemed to be fighting back. Maybe that’s why she stays so skinny and looks so exhausted all the time.

In the cold case, next to the cookies and donuts, were a few plastic-wrapped sandwiches. Not being picky, I pointed to one and said, “I’ll have the turkey.”

“That’s tuna.”

“Whatever. I’ll take it.”

“But did you want turkey?”

“I’ll have that one, whatever it is,” I said, offending the perfectionist but avoiding any backchat. I didn’t want a prolonged conversation with the child; I was keeping a low profile.

I sat down at a cramped little table in the corner, hemmed in by a trio of stag males, ate the sandwich, drank my coffee and gazed harmlessly about the room. I fancied that I was camouflaged by my years, but as the young men were leaving one of them looked at me hard and said, “Stop staring at the girls, man, you’re creeping them out.”

“He’s creeping
me
out,” one of his buddies muttered before slouching off.

It was a deflating moment. My ego was somewhat restored when Ronnie turned the helm over to a couple of young people and came to sit with me. The customers were thinning out now and she looked like she needed a break, if not a hospital bed.

“How was the sandwich? I’ve got a new supplier – is he any good?”

“Oh, yes. Delicious.”

“What kind was it?”

“Turkey.”

“Hah! I saw you order it. Whitney was right; it was tuna. You don’t even know, do you?”

“I will when I burp,” I said testily. “The point is, I am no longer hungry. Objective achieved.”

She laughed merrily. “Oh, Ed, I wish you would come in more often. You do me good. I think my headache is even gone.”

I stopped and assessed my own head. “Mine too.”

“So, how’s it going with that reality show you’re starring in?” she said in a voice louder than necessary.

Heads turned and I shrank down. Then the whispers began. I pouted at Ronnie.

She lifted an eyebrow. “You’re a celebrity now, or you will be once the show goes on the air. It doesn’t hurt for word to get around that you’re one of my regulars. Next time, bring Teddy.”

“If you don’t lower your voice, I’ll bring Porter.”

“Even better. Listen,” she said more quietly, “what’s happening with the hunt for that maniac that killed Misty McBain? I don’t like to think she’s still running around, especially with Teddy back in town.”

I looked left and right, hoping my celebrity wasn’t still attracting attention.

“How did you know Teddy was back?” I whispered. “He got in at two in the morning.”

“Are you kidding? In this town if an especially big group of pelicans flies over, people get on the horn. Everybody’s wondering if he’s going to get himself murdered here after all.”

At this point I wanted her to go away. “Don’t even say that!” I said, absent-mindedly putting my hand in my pocket to touch my lucky scarab.

“That the scarab thing from Vesta’s Egyptian stuff?” she said, glancing at the pocket.

Too late, I remembered that I had shown it to her once. I immediately let go of the thing, even though it did comfort me somehow.

The eyebrow went up again. “And I thought you were the skeptical one,” she said.

I girded my loins for Girlfriend’s. This was going to take finesse, and so far my covert operations had been clumsy – although successful. I had, in fact, achieved an objective in Perks. Now I was faced with a new situation, and I knew I must handle it well or suffer the consequences.

The resale shop was fairly empty. One female in tight jeans was searching diligently through the rack of jackets, and voices from the back room told me that Florence and Taylor were working on inventory. A pleasant-looking, fortyish man – Karl West, I presumed – was at the check-out counter, and he greeted me as I came in.

Taylor came out of the back room like a cork coming out of a bottle. Then she stood in front of the curtains staring at me. Florence popped her head in behind Taylor and whispered, “Is he here?” loudly enough for me to hear it by the front door.

Fortunately, Karl didn’t seem to notice. The customer came up with a pair of cut-offs and began to flirt with him as he rang up the sale. Yes, I thought, covertly studying his face, he is handsome.

When the customer had left, Taylor came forward and introduced me to Karl.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, giving me a charming smile. Dimples. Hazel eyes. The really bright kind, with flecks of gold.

“How do you do?” I said formally. “Taylor, here, says you’re new in town.”

Taylor kicked me, possibly because she thought I wasn’t being subtle enough.

He seemed surprised. “This sure is a friendly town. You volunteer at the local shelter and people come in from all around to meet you? In my experience, that’s a first.”

“We like to make people welcome here,” I said smoothly. “So what do you do for a living, Karl?”

She kicked me again.

“I’m a writer. Say – I’m more interested in what
you
do. Aren’t you in a reality show with that guy? Teddy Something.”

Uh huh. Pretending not to know his name. Very suspicious.

Aloud, I said, “Teddy Force. He’s in the area with me just now. Actually, he’s staying with Taylor at Cadbury House – ow! – didn’t she tell you?”

Taylor hooked my arm. “Come and see what we’re doing in the back room, Ed!” she said brightly.

Karl was looking at us like we were crazy. And amusing.

“Nice to have met you, Karl.”

“Same here. Don’t be a stranger,” he added as I was pushed head-first into the curtains.

Once we were inside and had all caught our breaths, Taylor and I faced off with one another while Florence looked on, agog.

“All right, Ed, what gives?” Taylor hissed at me. “You don’t care about Karl, you’re just trying to throw me off the scent. It’s not a man we’re looking for anyway, it’s a woman.”

I gazed at her with steely eyes, determined to keep my secrets.

She shook a finger in my face. “You are going over to Perks with me right now and tell me everything.”