Key West (20 page)

The detective rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to correct Chris again.

There was a knock at the door and a detective entered. He dropped a file on Kraus’s desk and said, “Preliminary, but interesting,” before retreating.

Kraus opened the file and tipped his chair back. He leafed through papers, and Chris was almost sure the guy would like to smirk. “Where were you this evening, Mrs. Giacano?”

“I already told you that.”

“Tell me again.”

“I worked at the Rusty Nail on Duval Street.”

Kraus looked at her. He unwrapped a toothpick and gripped it between his teeth. He chewed, and each time the pick worked its way into the gap between his front teeth, he used his tongue to work it out again.

“When the call came in, Roy—that’s my brother—Roy told us and I drove Sonnie to her house.”

“So I’ve been told. Mrs. Giacano, how about the time between when you stopped working and when you showed up at your house, ma’am?”

Sonnie still held Chris’s hand and her grip grew tighter and tighter. “What do you mean?”

“You left the bar about an hour before we got the word from the fire department that there could be something we needed to look at. Where were you in that hour?”

Chris felt the moment when Sonnie stopped being totally intimidated and became angry instead. “Ηow do you know all that? How would you know when I left the bar and for how long?”

Kraus smiled. “We have our sources.”

“You mean you’ve got someone with nothing better to do than watch a woman who should be of absolutely no interest to you?”

Chris started an inner mantra:
Patience, patience, patience.
His lady had cottoned to his act immediately. They would do fine as long as he didn’t blow it.

His lady?

Kraus had assumed a pained but tolerant demeanor. “I know this must be difficult to understand. Police work is very complicated and precise.”

Shee-it.
Chris chewed his tongue.

“We have many kinds of sources. We got a tip. We rely on tips a great deal. This was a call saying that someone was afraid you should probably be watched but that they didn’t know just where you were.”

“Watch Sonnie?” Chris said. Forrest Gump would be proud of him. He looked at Sonnie and leaned a little closer. “I wouldn’t blame anyone for wanting to watch Sonnie, but not because she’s some sort of dangerous person. She’s the best, Officer. Absolutely the best.”

“I’m sure she is. What do you do for a living, sir?”

Chris lowered his eyes. “I’m kinda between gigs. Unless you count playing at the Nail now and then. I’m a pianist.”

 “Real go-getter, huh?”

“We all have hard times,” Chris said, managing a petulant tone. “Sometimes things get slow and I come down to be with Roy for a few weeks.”

“You live with your brother?”

“I live in the place he’s got out back of the Nail.”

Kraus made a few notes. “Where were you between the time when you left the bar and when you arrived at your house, Mrs. Giacano?”

Chris was going to enjoy thinking about where she’d been, but for now he had to think of some words to form an alibi without giving Mr. Personality an excuse to leer. “Sonnie was with me. I was in the bar and invited her back to my place to talk. We talk a lot, don’t we, Sonnie?”

He wished the soft face she turned on him was for real rather than an act.

“We do,” she said. “Chris helps me see things clearly. He makes me forget some of the things that are on my mind.”

“I’ll just bet he does.”

Bastard.
Chris didn’t say a word.

“Oh, he does,” Sonnie said, still studying Chris.

She really did have a mouth that made a man want to feel it on his. Particularly once he’d already felt it on his.

“Then Roy came to tell us about the fire and we went over there. That poor man. I just can’t think where he came from or who he might be. But I’ve got to tell you something, Detective Kraus.”

“You do?” He leaned way forward over his desk. “You can say anything to me. You just take your time.”

“Well, it’s just that it feels hοrrible to think of a stranger being able to get into your house and set themselves up in your storage room. Why would someone do a thing like that?”

Chris wouldn’t advise Kraus to play poker. Disappointment made his shoulders sag. “We don’t know yet, but we will. Did someone see you go with Mr. Talon?”

“Oh, I’m sure lots of people saw us leave the bar,” Sonnie said.

“And you can prove you were in his—wherever he lives—the whole time that’s unaccounted for.”

Chris couldn’t remain silent a moment longer. “The time wasn’t unaccounted for. We already told you, Sonnie was with me, and Roy found us there.”

Kraus returned to the folder. “They’re doing an autopsy now.”

Sonnie shivered. “He died in the fire. Maybe he was a vagrant who got inside somehow.”

“We don’t think so. We think he wanted to be there, and he intended to sleep, but there’s nothing about him to suggest he’s a bum. You’re surrounded by a mystery, Mrs. Giacano. Your husband...well, he disappeared under suspicious circumstances.”

“He was abducted by terrorists.”

“So they say. No ransom demands, though?”

“Νο.”

“That qualifies as strange. These people may not be big at returning victims, but they’re real big on extorting money for corpses.”

“That’ll do,” Chris said before he could stop himself. “You’re out of line. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Kraus’s gaze became speculative. “Would I be wrong if I suggested your friendship with the lady goes beyond sharing cookies and warm milk?”

“You’d be wrong if you suggested anything about our friendship,” Chris said. “It’s none of your business. You’re out of line.”

“He’s just doing his job, Chris,” Sonnie said, quietly and calmly enough to shame him. “We’ve had a bad night, Detective Kraus.”

“We all have,” the man said with no shred of graciousness.

A commotion outside erupted into the entrance of Billy Keith with Dr. Jim at her shoulder. Chris looked at the ceiling and prayed the woman wouldn’t put the lid on any chance of getting Sonnie safely away from all this.

“That’s my sister,” Billy said, slurring her words slightly. “I‘m Billy Keith. I should have been called. What’s going on? What’s she done? I’m the one who looks after her, aren’t I, Jim?”

Chris couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The leopard jumpsuit had been discarded in favor of a short, tight, black dress with skinny, rhinestone-studded straps that had to go a long, long way down to support a straight-cut bodice that only just kept the woman from public indecency. She wore black hose, and every move showed their lace tops. Her backless satin shoes had heels encrusted with more rhinestones. She barely kept her balance—without Dr. Jim’s steadying arm, she’d probably fall.

“Billy,” Sonnie whispered. “Sit down, please.”

“I don’t wanna sit down, thank you. Are you ever going to stop being a pain—being a nuisance? If I’d wanted kids, I’d have had my own. What’d you do this time?”

Sonnie looked at Chris, who said, “Sonnie hasn’t done anything. Did you see her brother-in-law? He made himself scarce when things got tough.”

“When she was taken in by the police, you mean?” Billy shivered with feigned delicacy. She crammed her elbows against her body with the result that her nipples were responsible for hanging on to the top of the dress. “Romano did the right thing. He came back to the club to tell me and discuss with me what would be the best thing to do.”

“Hello, Ms. Keith,” Kraus said. Chris assessed the trajectory of the man’s stare. It was an easy study. “Do sit down. We’re really glad to see you. I wasn’t aware Mrs. Giacano had any relatives here.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t tell you,” Billy said, staring pointedly at Chris until he got up and held the back of the chair while she sat down. Dr. Jim went solicitously to her side and rubbed her neck. “This is my good friend, my
very
good friend, Jim Lesley. Dr. Jim Lesley. We’re here to do everything we can to help you and my sister.”

Chris sensed that Kraus was considering Billy Keith, and he’d stopped looking at her like a perfectly cooked steak. Maybe the detective had even decided he didn’t feel too sure of his feelings for Billy. Just the idea sent the man up in Chris’s estimation.

The door opened yet again and the same officer as before dropped another file on Kraus’s desk. “They rushed this over,” the man said, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Thought you’d want it right away.”

Kraus read quickly, turning pages and sweeping the text while he ran a blunt-tipped finger down the typed lines.

At last he looked up and seemed to consider what to say. He picked up his phone and asked for someone by name. Until a tall, dark-haired woman arrived, Kraus went back to reading his files as if he were alone.

The woman took a chair from a corner, sat down, and placed a recorder on Kraus’s desk. She gave the date, then opened a notebook and sat, evidently bored but ready to write what needed to be written.

Chris wanted so badly to say this was unorthodox, but held his tongue. It could be that they’d need a friendly technicality before too long.

“This is an informal conversation,” Kraus said. “I’ve asked for a record of our discussion in case any of us has difficulty recalling what was said.” He didn’t fail to glance at Billy, who, even over her perfume, reeked of liquor, and who wobbled on her chair.

“Feel free to comment at any time,” Kraus said. “Looks like our unidentified victim may have been asleep when the fire broke out. There was the butt of a cigarette inside his sleeping bag—but the arson squad’s having difficulty believing that’s what started the fire. If it had, the body should have been severely burned—particularly after it had been in the area while the fire was totally involved. Apparently he tried to get out of the sleeping bag, but for some reason—maybe smoke inhalation—he didn’t make it.” He read some more. “There’s nothing else here that’s relevant right now.”

Chris stood behind Sonnie.
Nothing you want to talk about. If that’s the light artillery, the big guns are going to be scary.

Billy started to cry and Jim bent over her, talked softly into her ear. She waved him aside. “She’s my sister and I’m going to look after her. I’ve been afraid of something like this.” Sobbing without making her mascara run, she leaned toward Kraus. “She’s my sister, do you understand? I love her. She was in a serious accident and had a terrible head injury. She’s unbalanced. If she set fire to her own home, she can’t be blamed.”

“Billy,” Sonnie said with more calm than Chris was sure he could muster at this point. “Listen, a man died in the house. In the room where I store things. Aren’t you listening? Can’t you see where this is heading? The police are trying to decide if I had something to do with the death. With wanting the man to die, that is. By
killing
him.”

Chris didn’t know whether he wanted to applaud her approach or clap a hand over her mouth to stop her from saying anything more.

Billy turned sideways in her chair and commenced to cry loudly. She sobbed and sobbed.

Dr. Jim instantly dropped to his knees and drew her into his arms. No matter how she fought him, he had no difficulty holding her close. “Would you be kind enough to give me that bag?” he asked Chris, who hadn’t noticed the little black bag the man had set inside the door. Dutifully Chris retrieved it and handed it over.

“Hush,” the doctor told Billy. “Just hush and I’ll make you feel better, my dear.”

“Help Sonnie,” she wailed. “Has she killed someone? My God, I’ve got to know.”

Α syringe was produced from the bag, and very shortly Billy was much quieter. She leaned on Jim Lesley and her eyes took on a glazed quality.

Yet again the other officer arrived, this time with an envelope. He handed it to his boss and left again without any comment.

Kraus slid photographs onto his desk, photographs most human beings ought never to see. Chris shook his head. He was helpless to stop what was happening, but he was grateful that at least Billy seemed too out-of-it to threaten more crying.

The door, opening once more, startled everyone in the room who was fully conscious. In slipped Ena. Her face ashen, she said, “I was told you might want to know about...I’ve got something to tell you. It’s probably nothing, but I’m so worried.” She nodded at Chris, but looked at Sonnie as if she were looking at her only friend. “Sonnie, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll do the best we can,” Sonnie said. Brave words, but beneath Chris’s fingers, her back was damp. “Εna, you should be in bed. Get a ride home and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“You don’t understand,” Ena said.

“Well,” Kraus said. “Come one, come all. Kindly stand over there and be quiet, ma’am. This isn’t a group therapy session we’re holding here.”

Billy Keith had passed out on Dr. Lesley’s shoulder and he said, “I’ll stay until I’m sure Sonnie’s okay. Billy would want me to. But then I’ll have to get Billy back to the club. This has all been too much for her.”

“Mrs. Giacano,” Detective Kraus said, “this is difficult. Please understand that I sympathize with your inexperience in such matters. Bear with us and we’ll help you if you need help. Would you please look at these photographs? They’re of the man who died at your house tonight—last night now.”

“Damn it,” Chris said. “Do you have to do this now?”

“Yes, I do,” Kraus said, but with no particular animosity. “We need to move as quickly as possible on this. We may have something really complicated here. Can you handle it, Mrs. Giacano?”

She nodded and shifted forward to look at the shots Kraus spread on his desk. “It’s possible that the fallen tiles—while they inflicted injury—may have helped shield him from some of the fire. It’s also possible the fire actually started either in the space between the ceiling in the room and the roof—or elsewhere entirely. According to preliminary reports, the cause of death isn’t yet definite. May take a day or two for forensics to get through.”

Chris could see the stark pictures, and he could feel the waves of trembling that shook Sonnie. She stared at a body half in and half out of a sleeping bag and surrounded by charred debris.