were robbing the estate,” Liam interrupted.
“Not really robbing,” White protested. “Just…Ah, come on, Lieutenant. If you heard us, you know that we’re just…All right, so we were going to take something really little. And, hell, we’re not bad. The kids in here the other night—those little bastards have broken into other places. They don’t steal, but they smoke pot, yeah, they smoke pot up in the rooms and play with all the stuff the snowbirds leave behind.”
“If you weren’t in here,” Liam asked wearily, “how do you know about the kids?”
“Because everybody knows about the kids,” Vargas said. “Ah, Lieutenant! You know this is a small town, really. Everybody knows everything. And it’s true. I heard they got the bejesus scared out of them here. I hope it’s true. It will keep the little rug rats from causing real trouble.”
“That’s right,” White agreed solemnly, nodding at Vargas as if the two of them were the most solid citizens in the world.
Gary White must have seen something in Liam’s face. He choked slightly, cleared his throat and asked, “Are you going to arrest us?”
This whole thing was beyond absurd. Two nights in a row. First, kids. Second? Two of the denizens of the place who weren’t known for violence, who just eked out a living. If he arrested them, an attorney would have them out on bail. And what would they get for trespassing? They hadn’t stolen anything; he had arrived too soon, and, from what he could tell, they couldn’t find anything they actually wanted to steal anyway.
He thought about the paperwork.
And, to his knowledge, Gary White had never done anything to break the law that was more serious than jaywalking.
“Get the hell out of here,” he said.
They both stared at him.
“Now,” he said.
They bolted like lightning. He turned and watched them from the kitchen doorway. They had trouble opening the front door, the one crashing into the other, crashing into the door, then each other again.
Finally, they made it out.
He walked to the door himself. There was nothing wrong with it that he could see. The lock hadn’t been picked.
Someone else out there had a key.
Tomorrow he’d have to have the lock changed.
Going from the West Coast of the States to the east coast made it difficult to arrive with much of anything left of daylight, especially once daylight savings time was gone. But Kelsey had found an early-morning flight that got her into Miami around three in the afternoon. She could have taken a puddle jumper down to Key West from Miami International Airport, but she wanted to drive. Baggage claim at MIA was insane, but eventually she was ready to head out for the rental-car agency, and by four-thirty she was driving south.
The turnpike took her to Florida City, and she headed down U.S. 1, past the gas stations, one real restaurant and fast-food eateries to the eighteen-mile stretch of nothingness that led to Key Largo and from there south and then west to Key West.
They’d improved the road, though she still saw signs and crosses where those in a hurry had tried to pass, only to pay the ultimate price. She managed to get behind a truck towing a huge boat trailer, but she didn’t mind waiting for the passing zone.
It had been a long time.
The day was beautiful. The turquoise water glistened, the waves were gentle and calm. In a few areas, construction workers were still claiming land to widen the road and the stench of stagnant water overpowered the view, but the sight of a cormorant soaring above the water seemed to lift the stench beyond her windows, and then she was past it.
A new overpass made getting into Key Largo a bit easier and faster, and it was still daylight when she arrived. Key Largo was built up. She assumed she’d see that all the way down the Keys.
By six-thirty she had lost the daylight, and she had come to the middle Keys where there were still vast tracts that didn’t seem to have been built up much. Marathon had acquired another shopping center, but the lower Keys were still tiny and starkly populated. She slowed at the signs warning that her speed needed to be minimal in honor of the little Key deer that roamed the area, and at last, in darkness, she reached Stock Island and then drove on to Key West. Following North Roosevelt Boulevard around, she sought out the shopping plaza on the newer part of the island where the attorney had assured her he would leave the key to the Merlin house in a lockbox—a brand-new key because the police lieutenant had suggested new locks. She found the shopping center easily enough, decided she’d just stop quickly for a sandwich at a small Cuban restaurant and went to procure the key. As she punched in the number Joe Richter had given her, the door to his office in the plaza opened.
“Kelsey. Kelsey Donovan! Young lady, you have grown up!”
Joe Richter was probably about fifty. She remembered him the minute she saw him because he hadn’t changed at all. His hair was snow-white, and he had a full head of it. He was lean, a gaunt man who managed to maintain a presence and a tremendous sense of dignity.
“Joe, I remember you, of course,” she said. When she had called about Cutter’s death, he hadn’t reminded her that she knew him. But she had been distracted when she called—still wallowing in guilt.
“I was just about to leave—you just caught me. I wanted to let you know we can do a formal reading of the will anytime you like. You’re the only heir, so…Then,” he added, clearing his throat, “we do need to make arrangements for Cutter’s burial. He’s still at the morgue, awaiting your plans.”
“Thank you, Joe, for handling everything so far,” Kelsey said.
“He was my client for years, though even I had barely seen him lately,” Joe said.
“When did you see him last?”
“About six months ago.”
“That long? Was there any special reason you saw him then?”
Joe shook his head. “No. His will has remained the same since your mother died. I happened to be shopping down on Front Street, so I took a ride out. I told him he needed a maid—he said that he’d tried hiring someone once, but she’d left in the middle of the job, screaming. I guess the house isn’t for everyone.”
“No,” Kelsey agreed, smiling.
“Well, young lady, I’m going to suggest you get some help to clean the place out. It’s going to need a lot of work.” He hesitated. “Can I do anything for you now? Would you rather stay somewhere else? I can get you a reservation…Of course, you could have gotten your own reservation, if you had wanted,” he added gently.
“No, I think I need to get out to the house. Everything is actually working, right? Electric, plumbing…that kind of thing?”
“Oh, yeah, the police saw to it. All I had to do was hire the locksmith—safety’s sake, you know?”
“Sure, thank you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she told him.
He nodded and watched her head
