Key Lime Blues by Mike Jastrzebski Page A

suspect so.”
    “He would have seen me if not for you,” she said.
    “I suspect so,” I repeated. My knees felt weak and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the effect this woman exerted over me. I tried to move away, but she clung to my hand and edged even closer.
    “I’m sorry I hurt you earlier.” Her voice was low, and there was a sensual ring to it when she added, “I realize now you only wanted to help. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
    This woman was dangerous. She could turn her sex appeal on and off at will, and I was no longer surprised by the fact she’d been able to walk away from an aging gangster with a fortune in diamonds. Right now, I was ready to believe anything she told me. I took my hand back before she could figure out a way to walk off with it.
    “You don’t need to do anything for me,” I said.
    She held my eyes with hers and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up like an electric charge was passing over them. I was pretty sure she was used to having this effect on men.
    She slipped her arm through mine and gave me a squeeze, this time sending a charge throughout my entire body.
    “You are kind of cute, you know,” she said, massaging my arm. “I figured if you’re going to help keep Bob and Frankie from hurting me, I should do something for you.”
    It took every ounce of internal fortitude I possessed, but I pulled free. “This is not a good idea,” I said. “We need to keep our relationship on a professional level.”
    “Fine.” Her attitude chilled and she turned away from me. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”
    I touched her shoulder and she looked back at me. “Yes?”
      “It’s also not a good idea to tell Tanya about the diamonds or Bob. No sense getting her involved.”
    “Whatever.” She started walking away from me, “Come on, she lives a couple of blocks from here, on Olivia.”
    “You sure she won’t mind?”
    “Tanya’s a good friend, and this is what good friends do, isn’t it? Besides, she owes me big time.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Ask her,” Destiny said, before picking up her pace.

Chapter 7

    The temperature dropped fifteen degrees and it began to rain when we turned onto Olivia Street. “You’re a regular good luck charm, aren’t you,” Destiny said.
    I hunched my shoulders against the sudden downpour. In the distance, tendrils of lightning lit up the sky over the Gulf of Mexico while a faltering burst of thunder echoed across the island. I didn’t expect the rain to last very long; it rarely did at this time of the year, but knowing that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.
    Tanya’s house was off Duval and was separated from the street by a six-foot-high picket fence. Destiny stopped in front of the wooden gate, reached inside and drew out a key hanging on a string from the post. Her hands were shaking and she fumbled with the key, but somehow she managed to unlock the gate. Pushing it open with her shoulder, she stepped aside to let me in. While she relocked the gate, I looked around.
    The porch light was on and it cast a glow over a hodge-podge of plants and flowers in the yard. A narrow stone path meandered through the tropical splendor. Even my untrained eyes recognized this was a well thought out garden. There was an indefinable symmetry to the landscaping, and I liked what I saw. The yard was wild and free and it told me more about Tanya than I had learned working for her over the previous months.
    A wooden porch ran along the front of the house. Two wood chairs and a double swing sat in front of a multi-paned window. A paint-splattered tarp was spread out in the corner. I glanced at the freshly painted ceiling while Destiny ran up the stairs.
    She followed my gaze. “The blue on the ceiling is supposed to keep the wasps from building their nests up there. Here on the island you can only paint the houses certain colors. Any changes or repairs have to be approved by some committee or something.