Beached_A Mer Cavallo Mystery Page 6

  Mer dug inside her backpack for her cellphone and picked her way to the desk. Her legs wobbled and she leaned against it for support. A deep gouge scarred the spot where her laptop normally sat. Cracks spiderwebbed across the portrait of her family. She righted the photograph across the gash, hiding as much of the desk's injury as she could with the small silver frame.

  Heat burned upward from her toes and flashed through her body. She clenched her fists and the phone dug into her palm. Who would do this?

  "Mon dieu!"

  Mer spun.

  Bijoux stepped into the apartment, her head swiveling, trying to take in everything at once. "Are you hurt?"

  Mer didn't trust her voice. She shook her head.

  "Have you called the police?"

  Bijoux's question focused Mer. "Just..." Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. "Just about to." The numbers seemed to swim on the touchpad. Finally she tapped out the three digits that would connect her to the Monroe County Sheriff's Office dispatch.

  "Nine-One-One. What's your emergency?"

  Mer answered all the male dispatcher's questions and hung up. Her anger simmered at a low boil.

  "I came over to see if you needed any help." Bijoux moved closer to Mer, but didn't touch her. "I can see that you do."

  A lump rose in Mer's throat. "Why would someone do this?"

  "Because there are always those who believe that if they can take it, they deserve it." The taller woman placed her hands on her hips. The stack of bracelets on her wrist settled loudly into their new position while she scrutinized the apartment. "At least you were not home," Bijoux said. "Property can be replaced. Wounds take time to mend."

  They stood in silence for several long minutes.

  Finally, Mer spoke. "Happy Thanksgiving." Oh shit. Thanksgiving. Her gaze took in the kitchen again. Flour dusted every surface as if the bag had detonated while she was away. On the floor, Birdzilla nested brazenly on a bag of cranberries. "I knew I should have bought those pot pies."

  "Don't be absurd. This isn't Colorado."

  "Not that type of pot pies."

  "Exactly what type of pot pies are you talking about?" Deputy Cole stood in the doorway, his bald head shiny with perspiration. Despite the devastation of the apartment, his eyes remained solely on Mer.

  "I didn't hear you drive up," Mer said.

  He cracked his gum. "You weren't supposed to."

  No greeting, no words of comfort. Mer's hackles rose. "Congratulations, then."

  "You're avoiding my question."

  "Turkey pot pie, Deputy. It's Thanksgiving."

  "And yet I'm here," he said. "What happened?"

  "Isn't it self-evident?"

  He shrugged. "For all I know, you're a lousy housekeeper."

  Bijoux gasped.

  "I assure you, I am not," Mer responded icily. "If you care to look to your right, you'll observe pry marks. I certainly didn't invite anyone in to do this."

  He dug in his pocket for his notebook. "Makes me wonder about the company you keep."

  "How now, fair mistress?" Only one man she'd ever met managed to work Shakespeare into everyday conversation. She supposed it was inevitable that he showed up.

  Detective Josh Talbot pushed past Deputy Cole and whistled. "Wow. Last time I was here, this place looked a lot better." He wore slacks and a white linen Guayabera shirt that contrasted with his sepia-colored skin. Subtle notes of sandalwood cologne followed him, an unusual scent in an ocean town. He nodded to Bijoux. "Ms. Fouchard."

  Bijoux smoothed her brightly colored head wrap. "Detective Talbot."

  Deputy Cole glanced up from his notebook. "Dispatch called a detective out?"

  "No, I heard the address on the radio. Figured I'd check in on my favorite troublemaker." His gaze flitted across the small space, cataloging the damage. "What was stolen?"

  "My computer. Who knows what else."

  Talbot scanned the apartment. "Strange. Burglaries don't normally entail this much damage. Risky, too. They had to notice the Thanksgiving-themed groceries. Know someone was coming back."

  "They?"

  "There are two different types of shoe impressions in the flour that's spilled on the floor."

  The detective squatted at the edge of the kitchen and the two women leaned over him. Deputy Cole remained by the door.

  "I suppose the smaller set could belong to a big woman," Talbot continued. "But I'd guess you had two guys stomping around looking for something."

  "Drugs, maybe?" Deputy Cole stopped writing to gauge Mer's reaction.

  The words earned him a glare. "Feel free to search." She faced Talbot. "The one thing I have of value is a gold coin that I found."

  "You told me you didn't have it," Cole said.

  "I didn't." She cut him from the conversation again. "Do you know what a square grouper is?" she asked Talbot.

  "I grew up in the Keys. Of course I do."

  "Huh." Apparently, her Keys knowledge needed fine-tuning. "Anyway. I found it in a bale of drugs."

  "That was you the other day?" Talbot laughed. "I should have known."

  She slapped her hand on the desk. "Nothing about this is funny."

  Talbot's mirth dissolved. "You're right. I'm sorry. Please go on."

  She made them wait a minute while she gathered her thoughts. "I'd discovered a coin in the bale. There may have been more, I don't know. Anyway, I thought I'd lost it during the chase."

  Deputy Cole snorted, but never looked up from his point-and-shoot camera as he snapped photographs of the footprints.

  A teenaged girl peeked her head around the door and glanced at the damage. "Dad, are you going to be much longer? Dinner's almost ready. Mom wants to know when we'll be there."

  Mer raised her eyebrows. Dad? The girl was a child of autumn: sun-kissed skin, russet hair, and blue eyes. Nothing in her appearance lent a clue to her parentage. Neither man wore a ring. Not that all men wore a wedding band, but Detective Talbot had struck her as a traditionalist. Deputy Cole struck her as single.

  "Go back to the car, baby girl," Talbot said. "This will just take a few more minutes."

  She rolled her eyes. "You always say that."

  "This time I mean it."

  The girl disappeared like a wraith, but her voice trailed through the door. "You always say that, too."

  Mer looked expectantly at Talbot.

  He cleared his throat. "My daughter, Gabriella. Takes after her mother."

  "So I gathered."

  "You were talking about a coin?" Talbot prompted.

  Deputy Cole lowered his camera. "A gold coin. Seventeenth century."

  "Eighteenth," Mer corrected.

  He widened his stance and the leather of his gun belt creaked. "You claimed you didn't have it."

  She spoke through gritted teeth. "I didn't. I found it yesterday, wedged under the cooler we keep on the boat."

  Deputy Cole tapped Talbot's shoulder. "Can I speak to you?" He jerked his head toward the door. "Outside?"

  "Sure."

  The two men stepped into the carport. Bijoux moved closer to Mer as if to give her support.

  Despite the distance, the deputy's words carried. "What's the scoop on this lady?"

  Talbot's voice was lower and she couldn't make out the words, but she could guess. After all, he'd once looked upon her as a suspect, too. But that was before. They'd moved beyond that misunderstanding. She thought.

  "Looks like a drug deal gone bad to me," the deputy said. "None of the passengers saw them find the bale. What if they already had it on board? They rendezvous with the other boat while the divers are in the water. Only they didn't pony up everything they were supposed to. She signals an emergency to the divers to make it look good. By then, the other guys realize they'd been double-crossed. Come back for the gold. Now her apartment is ransacked? Something stinks."

  More indistinguishable murmurs from Talbot. Was he defending her?

  Her hands shook. She needed to do something. Anything. She
coiled the laptop cord they'd left behind, then leaned over to pick up the notepad and papers strewn across the floor. The top page of the pad had been torn off, but a slight impression remained on the next sheet. Curious, she straightened her desk chair and sat. Scrutinized the page.

  The names.

  Blood rushed to her head. "They stole the list."

  Talbot leaned through the doorway. "What?"

  Her foot pushed off the floor and her chair spun. "The list of names that I found with the coin. It's gone."

  Deputy Cole moved forward and towered over Mer. "So what list did you give me?"

  "It's the same list. I had taken a photograph of it. Last night, I transcribed it."

  "What a strange thing to do." Deputy Cole let the silence drag out.

  "Speak up, Deputy. There's obviously more on your mind."

  "There is. Everything is too coincidental for you not to be involved."

  Mer flung her hand out to take in her apartment. "I am involved. All you have to do is look at my apartment to know that. But I'm not mixed up in this in the way you obviously think. I'm a victim here, Deputy Cole. I am not your suspect." She addressed Talbot. "I was followed by a black Ford pickup truck last night."

  "Did you see the driver?"

  "No."

  "The license plate?"

  She shook her head. "But it's all got to be connected, don't you think? Somehow?"

  "Theories?"

  She deflated. "I don't know. Up until two days ago, I didn't even know what a square grouper was." Her expression dared the deputy to snort or disagree. "The names could be distributors, maybe customers?"

  Talbot frowned. "Or a roster of people being smuggled to the U.S. along with the drugs."

  "People?"

  "Cubans, mostly," Bijoux said. "But other islanders too. People trying to make a better life for themselves. The Keys are the closest place to land."

  "But the bale was in the water. Were the people, too?" The thought horrified Mer.

  "There was a squall Monday night," Talbot said. "You found the bale on Tuesday. The Coast Guard didn't pick anyone up."

  "So that leaves three possibilities."

  "Two," said Cole. "They either made shore or drowned."

  Mer set her hands on her hips. "Three. We don't know for certain that it was a list of people trying to immigrate."

  Cole snorted. "Need permission for it to be immigrating."

  Mer sprang from the chair, causing Cole to take a step back. "But why was the list important enough to steal?" she asked Talbot.

  "I'm more inclined to think they were looking for the gold coin. Did they get it?"

  She shook her head. "No."

  "Where is it?" Cole demanded.

  Mer thrust her hand into her backpack and dug out the envelope. "I meant to call the station today, but time got away from me." She presented the coin to Talbot.

  "That's believable," Cole said. "What else aren't you sharing?"

  Her patience toggle flipped. "You know what? Get out." She spun on Talbot. "You, too."

  He held up his hands. "I believe you."

  "Which is why you let him insult me."

  Talbot surveyed the room again. "At least let us dust for prints."

  "No reason to." Cole freed his patrol car key from the leather keeper on his gun belt. "I found a latex glove on the driveway when I walked up. Whoever was inside wore gloves."

  "Faulty reasoning, but there you have it." Mer stomped to the door and held it open. "The deputy has everything he needs."

  Talbot hesitated.

  "I have guests coming this evening. I have enough to clean up without your damn powder."

  Bijoux placed her hand on Mer's forearm. "Perhaps—"

  "No." She shook off Bijoux's hand. "They're done. So am I."

  9

  Mer slammed the door behind the two officers. At least she tried to. A piece of wicker bounced the door back into her shoulder.

  Unacceptable. She kicked the chair out of the way and grabbed the knob, her hand tightening around it until her knuckles whitened.

  Bijoux stepped in front of her. "Perhaps you should allow me."

  Mer slowly released her grip. Took a small breath. Nodded, not trusting her voice.

  The deadbolt no longer aligned with the strike plate and the metal scraped as Bijoux pushed the door closed. That tiny sound resonated through Mer's entire body. Only she didn't quite know what to make of it. Didn't know what to make of any of this.

  But that would have to wait. She had guests arriving in precious few hours and she'd promised them a proper Thanksgiving meal.

  Bijoux cleared her throat, but Mer spoke first. "Well, this may impact what time we eat."

  "I am certain everyone will understand that circumstances have changed."

  The seahorse pendant dug into Mer's closed fist and she wondered how long she'd been holding it. "I just have a bit of...last-minute housecleaning before I start cooking."

  Bijoux surveyed the mess and then Mer's face. "Where is your broom?"

  A smile was still beyond her abilities, but a tiny spark of hope flared. She could do this. "Thank you. I have to attend to my fishes."

  Careful to avoid the glass, Mer sat back on her heels, heedless of the water puddled on the tile. The vibrant colors of the fishes had already dulled. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she blinked them away. The burglars had stolen her laptop, could have taken her camera. Why did they feel the need to destroy the tank?

  She carried the fishes through the backyard, knelt at the end of the lawn, and placed them in the ocean. At least they'd remain part of the sea.

  When she returned to her apartment, the two women righted the landlord's dinette, and then attacked the remaining furniture. The mattress had been shoved off the box spring and it jutted into the air. They slid it into place, but when Bijoux started to tuck in the sheets, Mer stopped her and stripped the linens from the bed. "I can't. Someone touched..."

  "I understand." Bijoux gathered the linens in her arms. "Where is your washer?"

  Mer gave her the key to the garage. "Thank you."

  Standing there alone, the devastation seemed worse. Someone had been inside her home. Shoe prints marked the path of destruction and ended at Birdzilla. She stared at the prints. The larger impressions had tread that reminded her of the bottom of her sneakers. The other was just an outline that left an impression similar to her own flip-flops.

  She forced herself to compartmentalize. Tackle one task at a time. She fitted the garbage can with a fresh bag. Birdzilla's twenty-six pounds overwhelmed the container and Mer shook open a separate bag. All the defiled produce, the opened packages, the rolls pulled out of their bag, all trashed. Even spice bottles had been opened and tilted as if the burglars expected to find the coin buried under a tablespoon of sage.

  At least the kitchen smelled good.

  "Such a waste," Bijoux said when she returned. She held another bag up against the counter and swept the dregs of an oregano jar into the trash.

  Mer picked up a can of corn. "They didn't open the canned goods. We have corn. And pureed pumpkin."

  "Are either of the markets open today?"

  The clock on the wall wasn't there anymore and Mer looked at her wrist. "Half day. Both closed an hour ago." She swiped her hand across her face, realizing too late that it was dusted with flour. "The only places open now are gas stations, pizza joints, and maybe Walgreens."

  Not that she could afford to replace everything, even with the tip she'd received earlier.

  A car pulled into the driveway. Mer recognized the hum of Selkie's Range Rover. The engine cut and a perfunctory knock tapped on her door before he burst inside wielding a bouquet of gladioli.

  "Mer." In three strides he crossed the room and gathered her into his arms in a forceful hug. The flowers smacked the back of her head. "Are you all right?"

  Mer was used to the reaction by now, but she was too angry to want comfort and she wiggled from his grasp. "
You should have seen this place forty-five minutes ago."

  He stepped back. Before her eyes, the military operator in him came out. His chiseled features hardened while he thoroughly scrutinized the interior—assessing, noting damage, determining threats. "Have the police been here?"

  "Yes."

  "She kicked them out," Bijoux added, innocently sweeping sprigs of woodsy-scented rosemary into the trash.

  Mer raised her eyebrow at her friend and then faced Selkie again. "They think I'm a player and this was all just a drug deal gone bad," Mer explained.

  "Who's they?" Selkie asked.

  "Deputy Cole primarily. But Detective Talbot didn't spring to my defense."

  "Josh was here?"

  "He heard the call on the radio. I suspect curiosity got the better of him. He had his daughter with him."

  "Gabriella."

  "Do you know everyone in the Keys?"

  "Pretty much." He still held the flowers. "Did they pull any prints? Take photos?"

  "Cole snapped some. He found a glove, so he said there was no point in dusting."

  "To be fair," Bijoux said. "They didn't have much time."

  Mer snuck a sideways look at Bijoux. She'd wait until they were through cleaning, but then, sadly, Mer would have to kill her friend.

  Selkie sighed and belatedly handed over the cellophane-wrapped flowers.

  The wrapper crinkled as Mer admired the soft lavender blooms. The remains of her vase were scattered across the floor and she ran water into a saucepan. That would have to do.

  "Cole was the one I was telling you about," Mer said. "He seems convinced I'm orchestrating some grand plan to use the LunaSea to smuggle drugs into the Keys, and that I was intentionally withholding contraband."

  "He knows you pushed the bale into the sea."

  "Not that. The coin."

  "You still had it?"

  Mer flushed. "I gave it to Talbot."

  "Did you report finding it before turning it in?"

  "I wanted to learn a bit about it first."

  "So, no," Selkie answered for her.

  Mer raised her chin. "No."

  "And that brilliant mind of yours never considered how suspicious that might look to Deputy Cole?"

  The mere mention of the deputy stoked her anger. "Don't be absurd. Since when did it become criminal to be curious?"