Dead in the Water (9 page)

It was just an after-funeral event like any other—food, drink, a few tears, no guns in sight. I caught Frida's eye. She bit into a stuffed mushroom while keeping an eye on all the firepower in the room. She gave me a “nothing to worry about” wink. Darlene was busy talking with Winston's friends. I spotted the others I knew in the garden. It was time for me to take a closer look at the place.

“
Excuse me, but I have to find the powder room.” I nodded to the man I'd been talking to—the one in Bermuda shorts, white socks and wing tips—and spotted the staircase to the second floor. He smiled and waved his empty champagne glass at one of the servers as I headed off.

There were four doors leading off the upstairs hallway. One was open—the bathroom. The others had to be bedrooms or perhaps an office and two bedrooms. I opened the door on my right. As I guessed, it was an office, but there was no point in searching it. It held a chair and a desk—no filing cabinets, no laptop on the desk, no other furniture. I opened the desk drawers and found them empty. It was as if no one had ever used the room. Odd.

The second door led to a small bedroom. Like the office, it was sparsely furnished: two twin beds, nightstand between them, and a small bureau across the room. I opened the closet door. It too was empty, with the exception of a single wire hanger swinging abandoned on the clothes bar as if someone had just pulled a garment off it. When I tried the drawers in the nightstand and bureau, they yielded empty space. It appeared that Winston's grown children did not live with him, or if they did, they traveled light.

The third room had to be the master bedroom—my last chance to find anything of interest, my final attempt to unearth Darlene's purse or the remnants of my uncle's life.

I opened the door. This time the room was not empty. Instead I found someone with the same idea as I. The Hardy brothers turned in surprise as I entered. Their search techniques were sloppy. Clothes lay strewn around the room, drawers pulled open, their contents tossed on the bed.

“
Here I thought the two of you were being sensitive, attending my uncle's funeral like civilized people. Instead you came here to rifle through his stuff, seize the opportunity to steal whatever you could find. You're just common thieves.”

“
We're here to find—”

The smaller brother, the one who managed the produce stand and sold us the tickets, was cut off by his brother.

“
Shut up, Digby.”

Digby? His name was Digby Hardy. I almost laughed at the thought of it and would have, but the airboat captain pulled a snub-nosed revolver out of his suit pocket.

“
That's improper attire for a funeral,” I said.

“
Look who's talking.” He gestured at my cervical collar.

“
Let's boogie. There's nothing here anyway.” Digby headed toward the door, but before he could walk out, Sammy Egret entered and blocked Digby's exit. His body language was loose, arms hanging at his sides, as if he had wandered into the room by accident; yet his mere size seemed to threaten the brothers. I was certain the subtle threat was exactly what Sammy intended. It worked. Digby backed up. Captain Hardy eyed him warily. Behind Sammy stood Frida.

“
Having trouble, Eve?” she asked.

“
These two were searching the place. Arrest them. They're thieves.”

Airboat captain Hardy lowered his gun.

“
You have a permit to carry that, I assume.” Frida crossed the room and took it out of his hand.

“
You bet. And we're not thieves. We was just lookin' around.” The airboat brother allowed Frida to take the weapon, but the defiant look on his face said he wasn't afraid of the law. Digby was less sure of himself. His eyes darted around the room. I thought he might jump through the window.

“
Empty your pockets, you two, and let's see what you've got in them, unless you'd prefer to have me arrest you here and do a thorough search down at the station.”

Both brothers complied with her request, dropping change, a few dollar bills and a set of truck keys on the bed.

“
See? Nothing.”

“
You're right, Mr. Hardy. You got a driver's license in the truck?” Frida tried to hide her smile, but one side of her mouth twitched as she watched the brothers' jittery expressions.

“
What's going on here?” Darlene stood in the doorway.

Frida took a set of cuffs from her belt and clapped them on the bigger brother.

“
Here, let me help you with that.” The man I'd seen Frida standing with at the funeral came up behind us. He reached under his jacket and withdrew a set of cuffs, which he snapped on Digby.

“
What did they take?” Darlene watched Frida and her companion lead the men from the room.

“
They didn't take a damn thing, Darlene. They just made a mess of this room searching it. Curious. There's nothing much in this place to steal. Why is that? I think you've got some explaining to do,” I said.

By this time, Madeleine had joined our little group and heard what I said to Darlene. She nodded her head in agreement, but unlike Frida, she made no attempt to hide her smile of satisfaction.

“
So why are you arresting them?” Darlene followed Frida into the hallway.

“
Driving with no license.”

Pilot Hardy stopped and faced Frida. “You're arresting us for that? That's no felony.”

“
I didn't finish. And for vandalism.”

“
You don't have the authority. This is not your jurisdiction.”

Why did he not sound so much like a good ol' boy now?

A look of concern crossed Frida's face. “Oh gosh. I forgot. I guess I'm just a cop abusing my power.”

He smirked, which did nothing to improve his looks.

“
But my friend here has authority.” Frida gestured to the man leading Digby down the stairs. “Meet Detective Murphy of the West Palm Beach Police Department.”

“
Thanks for the help, Frida. Let's get these two out to my cruiser, and I'll do a check on them for outstanding. I'm guessing it'll be interesting reading. If you want to accompany me to the station, I'll return your cuffs.” Detective Murphy continued down the stairs with his charge.

“
Don't worry, Dig. Our lawyer will get us out by dinnertime.” The airboat captain shot me a dark look. “I was just paying my respects. Nice company you keep.”

His southern accent seemed less pronounced, and his comments about felonies and a lawyer didn't sound so down home in the swamps now. Maybe he just watched too much television.

The appearance of Frida and her detective companion leading two men in cuffs out the front door erased the mourners' need for snacks and drinks. Everyone except for those I knew found a reason to leave. I sat Darlene on the couch, handed her a glass of water, and looked down on her, my arms crossed. With my height and porcupine's hair, I can be very imposing.

“
Okay. Now spill it.” I tapped my foot as an additional threat factor.

It was as if Darlene just gave up. Her face fell into a picture of utter despair. She shook her head and looked up at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I just couldn't bear it. I couldn't stand the memories. I got rid of everything of Winston's.”

Boris and Sophia repeated their earlier, to my eye, ineffectual attempts at comforting her. Hand pat. One-armed hug, not so close that one body touched another.

Darlene fended them off. Being around her swift changes in emotions was making me dizzy. “You wouldn't understand. You didn't care like I did. You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love.”

Well, actually I did know. It was an insensitive remark on Darlene's part. If she was so close to Winston, he had to have told her about my parents. I also couldn't relate to her form of mourning. When I lost Mom and Dad in the boating accident, I wanted to keep everything as it was so I wouldn't lose the memories.

“
There's not much of yours here, either. What about that?” I asked.

“
It's the house. The memories of how happy we were in our little place. I moved in with his children.” She wiped a tear from her cheek and held out her hands to Boris and Sophia. They, too, looked confused by her emotional U-turns, but with a heave of her shoulders, Sophia dropped onto the couch beside her. Boris remained standing yet distant.

“
She's having a hard time with this.” Sophia put her arm around Darlene, this time hugging her close, genuine concern for Darlene on her face.

I shook my head. None of this made much sense to me.

“
I'm—” Before I could say the word “sorry,” Grandy interrupted me.

“
Since we're on the subject of mourning Winston, I have a question.”

“
Go ahead,” Darlene said.

“
I don't remember Winston having a family, and I kept pretty good track of his life, even though we rarely saw each other.” Grandy's gaze settled on Sophia and Boris.

There was silence for a moment before Sophia spoke up. “We are the children of Winston's wife. We're stepchildren. Winston helped bring our mother over from Russia, and we followed the next year. Our younger sister is, uh, up north right now. Mother died several years ago, but we think of Winston as our father. He took care of us.”

“
Well, that's news to me.” Grandy still looked skeptical.

“
I hope you don't want us to prove it.” Sophia shot a look of anger in Grandy's direction. Those gray eyes were like a wind out of Siberia.

“
Of course not. Grandy just means it's odd he kept the marriage a secret from us. I mean, from Grandy and me. We're family too.”

“
He did not get around to telling you, but he would have eventually,” Sophia told us.

I glanced at Boris. He'd been so quiet. “Would you like to say anything?”

He didn't look back at me, merely shook his head.

Madeleine leaned in close. “Does he not speak? Or is it some kind of a tradition in Russia that the women do all the talking?”

“
I don't think it's tradition anywhere that women do the talking,” I whispered back to her.

“
I hate leaving you here alone, but the shop needs attention. We're down in new arrivals. I'll stop by some of our clients in West Palm on the way back from the lawyer's.” I'd taken off the cervical collar with Madeleine's blessing, so driving was possible again.

It was the day after the funeral and Madeleine and I were taking stock of our store's merchandise. The rounds and racks were only half-filled.

“
What are we going to do if the stock market continues to climb? Those women trying to make a little money by selling last season's fashions here won't be interested.” Madeleine looked as if she was going to cry.

“
Don't worry, honey. They've found a way to take in some money without their hubby's knowing. The easy money is too inviting for them to quit us now. Besides, they like the idea of slumming in the swamps of Florida, eating BBQ at the Burnt Biscuit and dancing with cowboys. It's addictive. Even the very rich like to have fun, especially if it's on the sly and not too fattening. Doing a little two-step can really burn off those beer and barbecue calories.”

Poor Madeleine
, I thought, as I drove my rental car down the Bee Line Highway. She worried so much. Maybe that was the source of her clumsiness. I'd read somewhere that tension made your muscles cramp up and your movements jerky and awkward. I hated leaving her responsible for the store today, but Winston's lawyer had summoned all of Winston's family—including Darlene—for the reading of the will. I had no idea how much money Winston had accrued over the years, but it had to be a substantial sum if his condo was any indication. The source of his income was from working for the mob, of course, but how should one view mob money, once it was invested and became stocks, bonds, treasury notes, and real estate investments?

Well, I wasn't worried that I'd have to consider what to do with anything Winston might leave me. It had been so long since we'd been in touch—as Darlene had pointed out many times—that she and his children would have to make a judgment about whether they wanted tainted riches or not. If Madeleine had heard me say any of this, she would have snorted and told me Darlene wouldn't refuse money hidden in a pig wallow.

I don't know what I expected, but Winston's lawyer looked quite respectable, not as if he had any “connections” of an unsavory nature at all. Grandy had driven up from Key Largo again today. I'd asked her and Max to stay with me last night, but they wanted to get back to the boat. A storm was coming in overnight, and they needed to check lines and ready the craft for a hard blow.

Mr. Sandimore, the lawyer, seated all of us around a conference table in his office and proceeded to get right to the point. He explained that the will had been updated less than a year ago. I assumed the only reason I was here was Winston had left me some small remembrance, a piece of jewelry or statuary. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could get out of here and visit my clients to see if they had any apparel for the shop. My mind wandered away from the immediate company, and I mused about the days Winston and I skied together, went horseback riding and …. Suddenly I realized the room had gotten very quiet. The lawyer had stopped reading, and all eyes were turned on me.