Highlights to Heaven (12 page)

“Where do we go from here?” Vail asked when they were in the car en route to Siesta Key.

“Keep heading west until we hit 1-75,” Marla said, relaxing in her seat for the long drive.

“That’s not what I meant. What’s going to happen between us?”

She glanced out the side window. “Last night was special, but that’s not enough to build a relationship on. You won’t listen to me regarding Brianna’s restrictions, and you’re still in love with your late wife. I wonder where I enter into your equation.”

“I’ll always love Pam, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you. For example, people with kids don’t focus their attention on just one child-they love each kid for their individual traits.”

“Gee, thanks.” She resisted the impulse to dig her fingernails into her palm. “If you really care, why don’t you show it by listening to me? Brianna just wants to make herself more attractive. Grooming is a natural impulse for girls her age. Teenagers are group animals; they need to fit in. You can still have rules about curfews and such.”

His lips thinned. “I’ll think about it.”

“There’s more. If we agree to have a trial period together, how do we do
it
with Brianna around?” Her face flushed. “You and your wife must have had a method, but Stan and I never had that problem.”

“There are ways.” He flashed her a grin. “If you’re using that as an excuse not to move in, it’s a pretty feeble one.”

“I might want to change how your place is decorated,” she said, testing the waters. His furnishings reminded her of an antique barn. If she and Vail ever got hitched, she’d like to get rid of half the stuff but didn’t know if he’d be able to part with anything of sentimental value. His loyalty to his dead wife was admirable, but she wanted proof that he was ready to move on.

That brought up another issue. Part of her wanted the warm security of his affection, but the other part craved independence.
What’s for dinner tonight? When will you be home? Who are you talking to on the telephone?
Stan’s insistent demands echoed in her mind. Moreover, he’d coaxed her to comply with his wishes with continuous put-downs. After the divorce, it had felt wonderful to make her own choices without fearing his disapproval. She didn’t want to answer to anyone else now that she’d tasted freedom. But was it fair to ask Vail to compromise without making an effort herself?

“Do you really hate the things in my house?” Vail said after a long silence.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “It’s not that I hate your stuff, but I prefer a different style. I like contemporary designs. No offense, but your place reminds me of a museum, with its heavy drapes and dark-wood pieces. My choice would be for lighter woods, simpler lines, and fabrics with brighter colors. Would it bother you if I brought in some of my own furniture?”

His expression brightened. “Not if it means you are seriously thinking about a permanent move.”

“We’ll see.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Relationship talks were so difficult. “I hope this trip to Siesta Key is worthwhile. Jenny said her brother mentioned their place on the island, so she figured he’d go there. He’s not answering the phone, though.”

Vail’s face folded into a frown. “When did Jenny say this?”

Her smug smile caught his notice. “When I went back to talk to her after we split up. I’ll share my information, if you tell me how Yani Verkovich died and when it happened.”

“He was shot around eight-thirty that Friday evening. Neighbors say they saw a black Corolla in his driveway, and one of them heard a motorcycle. The car belonged to Verkovich.”

“I’ll bet nobody traced the Corolla, and I know where it is. It’s parked in Jenny’s garage.” She told him how Jenny had traded cars with her brother.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

“I’m sorry, but I was afraid it might ruin our evening if we talked business.”

“This is important information. You should have mentioned it right away.” Vail used his cell phone to put out an alert for Jenny’s white Buick and to contact the police in Mount Dora.

“Will Jenny get in trouble for shielding a suspect?”

“I’m not going to make a case of it, but Yani’s car will have to be examined for evidence. What else did you learn?”

“Goat had an argument with our neighbor, Hector.” She related what Jenny had told her about their disagreement.

“A neighborly dispute over bugs has nothing to do with Verkovich,” Vail said thoughtfully.

“Jenny said Goat gets his supplies from a pet-store owner. Have you checked into his business practices?”

Vail nodded. “I didn’t find his appointment book, but I tracked down his checking account. Got a bunch of deposits that I assume are from customers. Also checks made out on a regular basis to a place called Animal Farm. Maybe that’s his supplier.”

“You could look up those customers to call and ask if they’ve heard from Goat.”

“I’m ahead of you. He canceled appointments, telling people he had to go out of town. No one has heard from him since.”

Siesta Key turned out to be exactly what its name applied, a sleepy island just south of Sarasota, Florida. Veering off 1-75 to head west for six miles, they crossed the north bridge onto the key and cruised south along Midnight Pass Road. Joggers trotted along a sidewalk bordered by tall shrubs. Marla wondered if they were year-round residents or snowbirds as she studied the facades of beachfront motels, pastel condos, and apartment rentals. White sand beckoned from the west, quartz crystals glittering in the midday sun.

Her stomach rumbling, she eyed Granny’s Corner Cafe, which stood opposite Captain Curt’s Crab & Oyster Bar. She didn’t think Vail wanted to grab a bite to eat just yet. Like a bloodhound, his nose followed the scent of his quarry. He peered at the scrap of paper scribbled with Jenny’s beach-house address, then refocused his attention forward.
So much for our romantic interlude.
Hunger wouldn’t divert him, neither hunger for sex nor for food. When on the trail, he concentrated on only one thing: tracking a potential witness.

In a peculiar sense, that reassured her. While they often had diverging viewpoints about suspects, Marla respected his dedication to learning the truth. If he’d become jaded about the justice system, it wasn’t evident to her.

“Here it is,” Vail said, pointing to a sign indicating Sara Sea Circle.

As they turned in, she scanned the curved driveway lined by single-story buildings in a tropical setting where lush foliage sucked moisture from the air. Coconut palms, spiky crotons, crimson and pink hibiscus, and banana plants shaded a maze of gravel paths through a central park. Tangerine-colored fish swam in a koi pond, part of a cascade of shaded natural pools below a trickling waterfall.

Vail parked in front of a lemon-painted duplex. A salty sea breeze ruffled the hairs on Marla’s arms as she emerged from Vail’s car. Grappling for her sunglasses, she snapped them on her nose before proceeding to the given address.

Knocking on the beach-house door and ringing the doorbell produced no response, so they tried the adjoining neighbor. Deadsville. The house must belong to snowbirds who’d already gone north.

“We’ll check the exterior for signs of forced entry before I use the key Jenny gave us,” Vail said. “I’d rather not have any unpleasant surprises waiting for us inside.”

Marla swallowed, remembering the scene in Goat’s town house. That memory encouraged her to let him go first. Their trek through the yard yielded nothing remarkable, except that she gained some sticky green things on her sandals.

“You go ahead,” she told him when they returned to the front lawn. She waited until he called for her to enter.

Cushioned wicker furniture, potted silk plants, and Haitian paintings gave the house a completely different look than Jenny’s place in Mount Dora. Marla’s mouth dropped open in admiration. What a fantastic hideaway. A quick survey told her no one had brought any food into the kitchen recently, and the beds were neatly made. A stale, musty odor hung in the air. Tracking the hum of an air-conditioning unit, she found the thermostat. Jenny wouldn’t mind if she turned it down a notch to prevent mold.

If Goat had been here, he was long gone, she concluded.
There goes our best lead, although this is exactly where his enemies would have looked for him, too, if they knew about it
.

“Let’s go,” Vail said. His voice held disappointment that didn’t show on his stony face.

Marla gasped as they exited through the front door. She could have sworn she’d seen a hand on that Surinam cherry hedge, but the branches had fallen back into place. Was someone watching them? Her skin prickled with unease.

“I thought I saw something,” she said to Vail. “Over there.” Indeed, sandy footprints marked the ground behind the hedge. Squinting, she surveyed the path to the Sara Sea Inn. That wasn’t the way to the oceanfront. The other direction, then.

“What is it?” Vail asked, his gaze boring into her.

She craned her neck around to answer him. “I saw a hand through those bushes, as though someone had pushed them aside to watch us. No nail polish,” she said irrelevantly. “Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

“Maybe not.” He gripped her arm for an instant, then let go. “We’ll ask people if they’ve seen Goat.”

“Let’s try the beach. If anyone was watching us, they’ll have sand on their shoes.” She pointed to the evidence.

“Good point. I knew there was a reason why I brought you along.” His mouth curved upward. “We can work our way around to a restaurant. I’m getting hungry.”

She grinned. “That’s why you’re eager to move on. Your nose sniffs a meal, not a suspect.”

“Let’s hope we find both.” Taking her elbow, he steered her toward the beach at the end of the drive.

Waves crashed ashore, swirling onto white, powdery sand before dissolving into foam. Marla stopped for a moment to watch a pelican flap its wings, soar into the sky, cruise into a graceful glide, then dive into the water. The bird dipped its head to pluck a hapless fish into its long beak. After a hard swallow, the pelican floated with others of its kind before repeating the act.

Among a flock of seagulls on the sand stood a lone white bird with yellow feet, a long neck, yellow-ringed eyes, and a black short beak. As they approached, Marla shuffled away strands of dried seaweed and white, tubelike debris that were underfoot. She could almost taste brine on her tongue.

“I don’t see anyone who looks familiar,” she said, examining the sunbathers.

Vail’s lips thinned. “I doubt anyone here has seen our friend. These are mostly tourists. It’s possible he’s staying nearby, though. The locals might know.”

“Too bad most salons are closed on Mondays. That’s the best place to pick up gossip. I would have talked to Jenny’s hairdresser yesterday if it hadn’t been Sunday.”

“Let’s get in the car and find a place to eat.”

“Look, Bob’s Boathouse has a crowded parking lot,” Marla said a few minutes later as they drove along Old Stickney Point Road.

“That’s a sure sign of good food, but what a weird building.” She stared at the structure shaped like a silver airplane hangar with portholes.

Inside, it was decorated like a boathouse with flags hanging from the high ceiling and even a yacht labeled
Megan and Michael
. A fireplace pit took up the center of the room. Loud rock music distracted attention from the decor: plaid carpets, square wooden tables with blue woven placemats, and a view of the water.

Seated by a hostess, Marla bristled when Vail ogled the brunette’s cowgirl outfit. “My goodness, I didn’t know you get turned on by jeans and belts that jingle. Maybe I should dress up in Western gear.”

He turned the full force of his gaze on her. “Nifty idea. You’ll try on different outfits, and we’ll see what turns my hot switch.”

“Why bother, you’d only want me to take them off.”

Her throat suddenly dry, Marla ordered a bushwhacker while Vail settled for a bottle of Miller Lite. “What are you going to eat?” she asked him after perusing the menu.

His mouth curved in a suggestive smile that made heat rise to her face. “This potato-crusted grouper sounds good,” he said with a wink. “It comes with a salad and herb bread. Why don’t you order for me? I’m going into the men’s rest room. Besides hair salons, lavatories are good places to pick up information.”

That man always knows how to get to me
, Marla thought, watching him stride away. Even the way he walked, with a determined swagger, made her breath come short. She distracted herself by reading a newsletter on the table called
Bob’s Gazette
. She was impressed by the number of activities the restaurant sponsored: fund-raisers for charities, karaoke night, live reggae entertainment.
Take the elevator
, she read.
Come see our dine-in boats upstairs for parties of six or more
.

No, thanks. She had better things to do. She busied herself spreading smoked tomato and pepper jelly on a piece of crusty bread. Wondering what was taking Vail so long, she glanced in the direction of the rest rooms. No sign of him there, but from the corner of her eye, she spotted someone waving near the front entrance. Her heart lurched. The face looked like Goat’s, but the hair didn’t match. This man had long, black hair and a beard to match. A scraggly beard, though, no mistake, which, despite the color, could only belong to one person she knew: Goat. He was looking directly at her, signaling as though he wanted her attention.

She shot to her feet so fast that her chair tilted backward. Sparing a moment to upright it, she charged after him. A waitress holding a tray of plates blocked her path. As she sucked in her stomach to pass, she noticed a panicked look transform Goat’s features.

“Wait,” she yelled, seeing him turn away.

When she reached the entrance, he was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Vail said from behind her shoulder.

Ignoring him, Marla pushed past other customers to open the outside door. A motorcycle zoomed past, close on the heels of another vehicle.
Jenny’s white Buick, by the looks of it
.

Vail cursed. “I’ll go after them. You stay here and wait for me.”

“Hell no.” Marla ran after him, but she wasn’t fast enough. He’d slammed the car door and squealed out of the parking space before she got near. Stomping her foot, she glared after him. “You arrogant toad. See if I share any information with you anymore.”

Retreating inside, she picked at her meal while waiting for him to return. She’d sent his lunch back to the kitchen, urging the waitress to keep it warm. Meanwhile, she indulged herself in a hot fudge sundae. Nothing like a dose of chocolate to make you feel better.

“I was afraid you were going to stick me for the bill,” Marla grumbled when Vail finally sank into the seat opposite her. “Did you get them? Where is Goat?”

His glum expression told her the answer. “Goat must know these streets backward and forward. He’s probably tucked neatly away in his hideout, unless he left the island. That would be the logical thing to do, now that he’s been spotted. As for your friend on the motorcycle, he got clean away after nearly sideswiping a couple of other cars. I stopped off to speak to the local authorities. They’ll let me know if they locate either one. I’ve alerted them to keep a watch on Jenny’s place.”

The waitress brought his meal, and he dug into his grouper with relish. The chase seemed to have increased his appetite rather than lessened it, Marla thought wryly. She remained silent, considering the lost possibilities. At least Goat appeared alive and well.

“Do you suppose Goat was watching the beach house?” she asked when Vail had taken his last bite. “He could have followed us from there. Unless he was lying on the beach. I wouldn’t have recognized him with his dark hair.”

“He wouldn’t expose himself so readily, not with bad guys after him. I think you’re right about the beach house. He probably picked us up there. Damn, if only we’d gotten to him first.” His mouth tightened. “We’ll talk to some more people, look around town, but then we have to move on. I still want to stop at that winery.” He signaled to the waitress for the bill.

“Huh?” Marla gathered her purse, ready for a visit to the rest room herself.

“Orange Blossom Winery belongs to Yani Verkovich’s uncle. We’ll be passing by on the way home. I’ve already spoken to him. He’s waiting for us to stop by this afternoon.”

They picked up Route 80 heading east toward LaBelle just above Fort Myers. The rural road gave way to orange groves on either side as they proceeded inland. It wasn’t long before they came upon the broad white structure with a wraparound porch that looked like an old Floridian-style house. A sign out front proclaimed this was the winery. They turned down a gravel drive and parked in the front.

Inside, a tall white-haired gent greeted them from behind the counter. He wore a friendly smile on a suntanned, lined face. His denim overalls and calloused hands indicated he didn’t shy away from hard labor. “Yo, folks, welcome to the Orange Blossom Winery. We have samples here for y’all to taste, or you can look around.” He gestured to shelves laden with wine bottles and related gift items.

Vail showed his identification. “I guess you don’t remember me. I’m Detective Vail. This is my friend, Marla Shore.”

“I’m Igor Verkovich,” the man said to Marla. He came from behind the counter to shake their hands. “Sorry, Lieutenant, I should have recognized you. But when people are out of context, you know how it goes. I don’t have the greatest memory.”

“Thanks for seeing us,” Vail said.

“No problem. Have you found my nephew’s killer?”

“We’re following some good leads. I have a few additional questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

Vail glanced at Marla. “We understand Yani was friends with Cutter Corrigan. Do you know how they met?”

“That’s the hairstylist fellow, right?” At Vail’s nod, he continued. “Those two got right close, if you get my drift. Didn’t seem like they’d ever see eye to eye, coming from opposite poles like they did.”

Marla pretended to examine a bottle of grapefruit wine while listening intently. This was Vail’s ball game. She’d step in to play if intuition guided her to do so.

Vail hung his thumbs off his belt. “Cutter said Yani became his client, and that’s when they first met each other.”

“Not true. Come out here with me a moment. You’ll understand better if I show you what we have.” He shuffled to a rear exit, walking with a slight limp. Pushing open the screen door, he led them outside into the bright afternoon sunshine. Rows of orange trees stretched into the distance.

“I didn’t realize your property extended so far back,” Marla commented. “You actually grow your own fruit for the winery.” She’d been at another Florida winery in St. Petersburg that had merely been a building selling fruit wines.

His face crinkled into a smile. “We grow about a dozen different types of trees. The usual citrus, plus coconut, lychee, and jackfruit varieties. Even so, my business barely puts a dent in the state’s citrus industry.”

“What was your nephew’s share?” Vail inquired, shading his craggy face from the sun.