house with less capital gain if I ever sell.”
“Do I have to beg you to stay?” I said.
“I have no choice, Alex, although my love life could use a change of venue. I’d need transfer approval from the Postal Service and two of my fellow workers have already applied for Ocala. I’d be so low on the list, I might have to wait for two or three years.”
“Your longevity’s worth sticking with the post office?”
“The way I hear it, every decent job in Ocala’s already gone. Most have been taken by people who’ve already left the Keys. Anyway, there’s a house for sale near Carol Anne, like a block away. If it checks out okay, we can buy it and they’ll be close to her. That’s a huge relief.”
Not for my selfish self, I thought.
“Thanks for letting me weep on your shoulder at noon.” Carmen turned to her daughter. “I wasn’t really crying, honey. Figure of speech.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Mom, you never cry. Your eyes perspire. Can we go now?”
I was two steps into my house when the phone rang. Bobbi Lewis, contrite. “Sorry I was short at lunchtime,” she said. “I spent the morning with Chicken Neck and two big-shot out-of-town cops. They treated me like a servant, and Liska put up with it.”
“That doesn’t sound like our sheriff. He sees ‘suits’ as leaches programmed to steal cases. Or the limelight. He hates to cooperate.”
“Well he was kissing ass with this pair, but they were in Hawaiian shirts instead of spiffed up like bankers. It’s only taken about thirty years for non-locals to learn the value of blending in.”
“What was the occasion?” I said.
“If I knew, I couldn’t tell you.”
Translation: she knew but wasn’t going to blab.
“When did Liska phase himself back into disco style?”
“Never happen, Alex. This morning he looked like a model from a Brooks Brothers catalog. Button-down blue oxford cloth, Italian loafers, pressed khakis. His dance fever days are behind him.”
That didn’t square with his attire at Louie’s. He must have gone home to change before meeting Wonsetler for their liquid lunch. Maybe he felt dirty in his office clothes, soiled by the silence imposed upon his whole department.
“Can I make up for my rudeness?” said Lewis. “You want to do something tonight?”
“What, walk downtown and chase the music?” It would have to be after my scheduled rendezvous with Lisa Cormier.
“I meant earlier, like dinner on me,” she said. “I was thinking of splurging, going to Michaels.”
What would it be, the showdown, the breakup? The sweet, romantic meal when she offers the age-old words, “It’s nothing you did or didn’t do, Alex. It’s all my fault, this need for a change.”
“How about a glass of wine at my house first?” I said.
“The restaurant has wine,” she said. “See you at six-thirty?”
“I did a late lunch, Bobbi. How about eight-thirty?”
“Okay, seven-thirty.” She hung up.
The caller ID window told me I’d had another call. I hit the speed button for message retrieval and punched my code.
Catherman: “Rutledge, I’m sorry I barked. I was way out of line. I’m asking you to reconsider. You probably tossed my business card, and I don’t blame you. Here’s where to reach me.” He reeled off seven digits then added, “That or call Cecil Colding. He owns the grocery where Sally works. He’s going to bat for us.”
Bat?
Us?
I still had his card in my wallet. I sent the message to oblivion and tapped out Sam and Marnie’s home number.
“I have to admit,” said Marnie, “I drove over the Bight bridge. No skiff, no car. Is it raining at your house?”
“Beautiful sunny day.”
“It’s pouring here,” she said.
“I hope you mean actual wetness and not poetic metaphor.”
“I don’t have frigging time for pain poems, Alex. No haikus of the broken-hearted.”
“Why don’t we talk over a couple beers,” I said, “share a few laughs with Vicki?”
“Well, I’m
“Do I have to beg you to stay?” I said.
“I have no choice, Alex, although my love life could use a change of venue. I’d need transfer approval from the Postal Service and two of my fellow workers have already applied for Ocala. I’d be so low on the list, I might have to wait for two or three years.”
“Your longevity’s worth sticking with the post office?”
“The way I hear it, every decent job in Ocala’s already gone. Most have been taken by people who’ve already left the Keys. Anyway, there’s a house for sale near Carol Anne, like a block away. If it checks out okay, we can buy it and they’ll be close to her. That’s a huge relief.”
Not for my selfish self, I thought.
“Thanks for letting me weep on your shoulder at noon.” Carmen turned to her daughter. “I wasn’t really crying, honey. Figure of speech.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Mom, you never cry. Your eyes perspire. Can we go now?”
I was two steps into my house when the phone rang. Bobbi Lewis, contrite. “Sorry I was short at lunchtime,” she said. “I spent the morning with Chicken Neck and two big-shot out-of-town cops. They treated me like a servant, and Liska put up with it.”
“That doesn’t sound like our sheriff. He sees ‘suits’ as leaches programmed to steal cases. Or the limelight. He hates to cooperate.”
“Well he was kissing ass with this pair, but they were in Hawaiian shirts instead of spiffed up like bankers. It’s only taken about thirty years for non-locals to learn the value of blending in.”
“What was the occasion?” I said.
“If I knew, I couldn’t tell you.”
Translation: she knew but wasn’t going to blab.
“When did Liska phase himself back into disco style?”
“Never happen, Alex. This morning he looked like a model from a Brooks Brothers catalog. Button-down blue oxford cloth, Italian loafers, pressed khakis. His dance fever days are behind him.”
That didn’t square with his attire at Louie’s. He must have gone home to change before meeting Wonsetler for their liquid lunch. Maybe he felt dirty in his office clothes, soiled by the silence imposed upon his whole department.
“Can I make up for my rudeness?” said Lewis. “You want to do something tonight?”
“What, walk downtown and chase the music?” It would have to be after my scheduled rendezvous with Lisa Cormier.
“I meant earlier, like dinner on me,” she said. “I was thinking of splurging, going to Michaels.”
What would it be, the showdown, the breakup? The sweet, romantic meal when she offers the age-old words, “It’s nothing you did or didn’t do, Alex. It’s all my fault, this need for a change.”
“How about a glass of wine at my house first?” I said.
“The restaurant has wine,” she said. “See you at six-thirty?”
“I did a late lunch, Bobbi. How about eight-thirty?”
“Okay, seven-thirty.” She hung up.
The caller ID window told me I’d had another call. I hit the speed button for message retrieval and punched my code.
Catherman: “Rutledge, I’m sorry I barked. I was way out of line. I’m asking you to reconsider. You probably tossed my business card, and I don’t blame you. Here’s where to reach me.” He reeled off seven digits then added, “That or call Cecil Colding. He owns the grocery where Sally works. He’s going to bat for us.”
Bat?
Us?
I still had his card in my wallet. I sent the message to oblivion and tapped out Sam and Marnie’s home number.
“I have to admit,” said Marnie, “I drove over the Bight bridge. No skiff, no car. Is it raining at your house?”
“Beautiful sunny day.”
“It’s pouring here,” she said.
“I hope you mean actual wetness and not poetic metaphor.”
“I don’t have frigging time for pain poems, Alex. No haikus of the broken-hearted.”
“Why don’t we talk over a couple beers,” I said, “share a few laughs with Vicki?”
“Well, I’m
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