Wreckers' Key (12 page)

“So soon? But I have to take care of my husband.”

“I know. That’s why I came to tell you. But really, there’s nothing that you need to be here for. You can talk to the Key West authorities by phone.”

“I cannot just go off and leave him here.”

“What do you say we go into town and find out just what it would cost to have his body shipped up to Fort Lauderdale? I’m assuming that’s what you want to do? You don’t want to try to send him back to the DR, do you?”

“No, his family there is all dead. I would like to make a life for my baby in Florida.”

Before I could respond, the doors to the salon opened and Jeremy stepped out, followed by Drew, who seemed to be giving him the tour. As they approached the table where Catalina sat with her back to them, I could see Drew’s lips move as he whispered something to his new boss.

“Catalina,” Drew said aloud, “I’d like to introduce you to Jeremy Andersen. He’s the new captain of the
Power Play
. ”

Jeremy held out his hand to her. “I’m sorry about your husband.”

Cat stood. “You will want your cabin. I will get my things.”

“Okay, that would be very nice of you,” he said.

“Hang on,” I said as I stepped forward and slipped my hand inside Jeremy’s arm. I led him, practically dragging him, into the salon. “We’ll be right back,” I said over my shoulder.

Once inside, I slid the door closed. “Look, here’s the situation. That woman out there is a friend of mine, and she has suffered a terrible loss. You’d have to be a total asshole to kick her out of her quarters, and I’m counting on the fact that you aren’t. There are plenty of cabins on this boat, and you can bunk somewhere else until we get to Lauderdale. Once we’re there, she’ll be off the boat and out of your hair.”

“But—”

“No. Stop. There are no buts here. I’d take her with me aboard my boat but there isn’t room. Do you understand what it’s doing to her to see her husband replaced after one day?”

Without another word to me, he slid open the door and asked Drew to head up to the bridge deck with him. I had a feeling that Jeremy and I were not going to be the best of friends.

“You should not have done that,” Cat said.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go take care of your business. I’m ready to get out of this town and head home.”

I’d used a pay phone at the yard to call Lassiter on his cell, and he agreed to meet us at eleven. The receptionist ushered us back to the detective’s desk. He stood up, all smiles and happy to see us.

“Ms. Frias, I’ve got good news for you. You don’t have to worry about the funeral costs. It’s all been taken care of,” he said as Cat and I settled into chairs opposite his desk.

“What?” she said. “I do not understand.”

“Your husband’s employer, Mr. Berger, he called me yesterday to ask about the case, and when I mentioned to him that you were having difficulty finding the money to pay for funeral expenses, he said he’d take care of it. In fact, the funeral home went by the hospital and took the body this morning.”

“This morning?” Catalina repeated. She swiveled her head from me to the detective, as though one of us would be sure to explain.

“Detective,” I said, “this is the first we’ve heard of this. I just met with Mr. Berger this morning and he didn’t mention it. Can you tell me the name of the funeral home they took the body to?”

“I’ll find out,” he said, pushing back his chair.
 

“Seychelle, what does this mean?” Cat asked me when he had left the room.

“I don’t know. Maybe Berger was just trying to be a Good Samaritan. Maybe he decided to do you a favor.”

 
“But I am Nestor’s wife. They should not release the body to another.”

“Yeah, well, this is Key West. They’re pretty laid-back here sometimes about the rules and regs. They are also perpetually out of money. My guess is that they were worried that they were going to get stuck with the funeral costs, so they figured that if anybody stepped forward to pay, they’d be happy to oblige with the paperwork.”

Detective Lassiter came back into the room with a slip of paper that he handed to me. “They took him to the Dean Lopez Funeral Home over on Simonton. I wrote the address down for you there.”

“Thanks.” I looked at Catalina and raised my eyebrows as though asking if we were done here.

Cat leaned forward as if she was about to stand, then sank back in the seat again. “Detective Lassiter, I know you do not believe that Nestor was murdered because you say there is no evidence. Yet, did you look at the body?”

“Ma’am, that’s not my job. That’s the medical examiner’s job. But yes, he did an autopsy, and his conclusion was your husband died after being thrown into the mast, which knocked him unconscious and caused him to drown.”

“Did you speak to a windsurfing expert? Show him those photos?”

“I can’t continue to investigate the case if it has been ruled an accidental death. It doesn’t matter what you say to the papers or what you think. I have to go by the law.”

I reached out and laid my hand on Cat’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go over to the funeral home. Maybe we’ll be able to get Berger to pay to send the body up to Fort Lauderdale.”

Catalina stood slowly as though she were moving through a very thick liquid. When she got to the door, she turned back to Lassiter. “I can see you are a good man, Detective. You want to do what is right. Ask someone who knows this sport of windsurfing, please. Just ask.”

As soon as Catalina identified herself as the wife of Nestor Frias and asked to see her husband’s body, the young man in the dark suit who met us in the entry at the funeral home excused himself. He motioned for us to sit down in the reception area and disappeared down a long dark hall.

I really don’t get why so many people feel that everything associated with death always has to be so dark and somber. The funeral home lobby was decorated in dark woods and heavy velvet fabrics. The thick carpet hushed our footfalls, and fresh flowers filled the air with their sickly sweet smell. When Red, my father, had died a few years ago, my brothers and I had gone to the Neptune Society in Fort Lauderdale, and we were thankful for their bright, airy rooms and many paintings of ships and the sea. The man who helped us had not worn a dark suit or talked in whispered tones. We’d had a rather raucous memorial party for Red’s old buddies and family friends, and then my brothers and I had taken his ashes out to sea. I liked it that way better.

It was an older man who stepped out, introduced himself as Mr. Gomez, and invited us to join him in his office. He started in with all the usual about how sorry he was for her loss, and he really did sound like a close friend of the family. The man was good. He’d probably sat behind that desk and said those same words hundreds of times, but he managed to make you feel as if he meant them.

“When Mr. Berger contacted us this morning, I’m afraid he failed to mention that Mr. Frias had a wife here in town.”

“I don’t live here,” Cat said.

“I see. Well, Mr. Berger told us that the young man in his employ had died and that he was taking care of his affairs on behalf of the family. Had we known the family was here in town, we would have contacted you to find out how many copies of the death certificate you require. As it is, we only ordered what we needed to proceed. We were very lucky that the paperwork was processed at such a speed. Oftentimes here in Key West, well, you know things tend to run on ‘island time.’ The county government rarely works this fast, but I guess it has been a slow week and they needed something to do over there. At any rate, now that I have you here, perhaps you would be interested in looking at a decorative urn?” Catalina turned and looked at me as though she expected me to translate.

“Mr. Gomez, what do you mean? Are you saying Mr. Berger left directions to have Nestor’s body cremated?”
 

“Oh yes, indeed. And as I was saying, the county government is usually not so swift at getting a death certificate to us, but you were very fortunate this time.”

“But Mrs. Frias doesn’t want her husband’s body cremated. She would like to have —”

Mr. Gomez inhaled sharply and cocked his head to gaze at Catalina. There was something about him that reminded me of a raptor—a hawk or osprey. “Ladies, there was no reason to delay, and Mr. Berger had said his vessel was departing for Fort Lauderdale in the morning. Mr. Frias’s body was cremated earlier this afternoon shortly after it arrived.”

XI

I had so much work to get done before our departure, I decided to hail a cab on the street outside the Dean Lopez Funeral Home. Catalina hadn’t said a word to me as we’d walked out of the dark parlor, and the silence had stretched out long and awkward. It felt as though she were accusing me of being happy about this state of affairs—because I didn’t believe that someone had murdered Nestor and now there wouldn’t be any evidence. But there wasn’t anything that could be done about it at that point, and it didn’t seem to be Gomez’s fault. Granted, I did find it curious that Ted Berger seemed to have greased the wheels to get rid of the body, but it was possible he had his reasons. He wanted to get his boat back up north as soon as possible; in a certain light, what he had done could even be seen as a kindness.

I finally spotted a taxi and raised my arm. The driver pulled over on the opposite side of Simonton Street and waited at the curb. When Cat stepped off, I said, “Wait.” I followed her and put my arms around her, drawing her as close as her belly would allow. Then I held her at arm’s length and said, “When we get back to Lauderdale, we’re going to have a wake for Nestor, okay? The hell with funerals and cremation and all that. We’re going to throw a party to celebrate his life, okay?”

She broke away from me, her cheeks wet with tears, and started to flee across the street. The waiting cab had been partially blocking traffic, and a large SUV with tinted windows that had been waiting in the line of cars suddenly accelerated to pass the line of traffic. Catalina was stepping right into his path.

“Cat! Look out!” I screamed and ran into the street, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her toward my side of the pavement. My feet got tangled with hers and I felt us falling backward as the wind of the SUV’s passing blew dust and gravel into my face. I took much of the fall on my elbows and tailbone, because I refused to move my arms from Cat’s body. Her weight falling on top of my abdomen knocked the wind out of me.

“Hey!” the cabbie yelled. “You all right?”

I couldn’t breathe, much less speak. My hands were holding the sides of her enormous belly, and I felt the life within her. I yanked back my arms as though I’d touched a too-private part of her. Cat rolled off me and stayed on her hands and knees panting, the whites of her eyes visible through the dark hair around her face. I curled onto my side, dazed and struggling for air. I could tell we were in the shade of a sudden crowd of people, but they were just looking at us, not saying anything.

Then I heard a couple of nearby whoops from a police siren. Within seconds there were two cops there, taking each of us by the arm, lifting and escorting us over to their car. It all happened so fast.

“What happened?” the female officer who was holding my arm asked me. “We were just around the corner when someone called it in.”

I lifted my arms and saw the pavement rash down both sides. The blood was dripping down my wrists, into my palms. “My friend was crossing the street.” I pointed with a bloodied hand. “This black SUV, big thing, came from that direction and nearly ran her down. Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“We’ve got paramedics coming.”

“Cat,” I said, squirming loose from the officer and stepping over to her side. “Are you hurt?” She was leaning against the back fender of the police car, her eyes closed, the male officer standing at her side.

She shook her head and then opened her eyes. “I fell on top of you.” Her eyes dropped to my arms. “Seychelle, you are bleeding.”

“Just some road rash. Nothing big.”

“Miss, please step over here so I can take down some information,” the female cop said. I told her what I knew, which was damn little. I still couldn’t believe the guy hadn’t even stopped. If I hadn’t pulled Catalina back, he would have hit her. No question about it. It was as though he was trying to do it. I thought about the newspaper story that had run that morning, and I wondered if I should mention it to the police. Could it have been someone trying to run her down? They’d probably laugh at me, think I was being paranoid. This was Key West, after all, and drunk drivers were practically the norm. And I had to remember that as far as the cops were concerned, Nestor’s death had been an accident.

When the paramedics arrived, they insisted on cleaning up my arms and wrapping me with white gauze and bandages. They checked Cat and listened to the baby’s heartbeat, pronouncing both of them fit. While we’d been sitting with the medics, the cops had worked the crowd, and they returned to tell us that no one could either name the exact make and model or remember the license plate of the big vehicle. They concluded that it was a near accident and that we had been lucky. The female officer offered to drive Cat back to the boatyard on Stock Island, and I thanked her profusely.

My first stop on my walk back to my boat was just around the corner at a phone booth outside Fausto’s market. I needed to give B.J. a call to let him know what was going on. We didn’t have the kind of relationship where we were joined at the hip. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that
relationship
was the right word. But I knew that he thought about me and wanted to know I was safe. Heck, it was only polite to give him a call now and again, and after what had just happened, I really wanted to hear his voice. It wasn’t as if he could call me. I didn’t realize how much I longed to talk to him until I heard the recording of his answering machine start. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened these past couple of days, to hear his calm voice, his intelligent, even-tempered take on everything. The man kept me grounded, and I was really surprised to realize how much I missed him. I left a short message telling him about Nestor. I added that the loose plan was for us to arrive back on Saturday evening, but that he shouldn’t be concerned if we failed to show up. Plans have a way of changing on board boats, and I didn’t want him to worry.