At five, I closed the shop and drove to the NPD station where I signed my witness statement for a young female officer. Lieutenant Rossi was nowhere in sight, nor did I ask for him. Afterward, figuring that though the sleigh bells and the tree hadn’t lifted my mood, maybe a glass of wine would, I drove back to Fifth Avenue and dropped in at the Irish Pub.
I sat at one of the little metal tables on the terrace overlooking Sugden Square and soaked up the cool evening breeze. As their children scampered about, tourists in shorts and T-shirts leisurely strolled the open square. Tiny white lights encircled the palm trees, adding a note of festivity to the scene. In this peaceful place, it was hard to believe that only a few blocks away a world-class masterpiece had been snatched into oblivion and a woman shot to death.
A slim blonde server approached, pad and pen in hand. “Evening, ma’am. What would y’all like?” she asked in a lilting southern drawl.
I’d heard that soft southern drawl before and glanced up from the menu. “Lee Skimp, is that you?”
“Y’all know me?” A hand flew to her mouth. “The decorating lady.”
“I’ve been called worse things,” I said, laughing. “How are you?” A sweet girl, Lee had been instrumental in finding Treasure’s killer, and for that I’d be eternally grateful to her.
“I’m just fine,” she said, adding shyly, “I looked in your shop window the other day. It sure is pretty.”
While she spoke, she kept glancing over one shoulder then the other as if searching for someone.
“Is anything the matter, Lee?”
She nodded. “I shouldn’t be telling a customer, but since you asked…it’s my daddy. I moved out a month ago and heard tell he’s been looking for me. If he finds me here, I don’t know what all will happen.”
“Anyone of legal age has the right to strike out on her own.”
“I’ll be twenty-one and a half come Friday.”
Of course. To serve liquor she’d have to be, though truth to tell, she hardly looked that old. More like a lovely waif with her long, shiny hair and big Loretta Lynn eyes.
“Then your father can’t force you back home against your will.”
“You haven’t met my daddy.” She attempted a smile. “You’re not here to listen to me yammer on. What all can I get you, Ms. Dunne?”
“Please call me Deva. And a glass of house chardonnay would be lovely.” I was on a budget. My palate would understand.
“Coming right up.”
As Lee hurried off to fill my order, I scanned the menu. I’d have a burger, the pub specialty, affordable and filling.
Maybe the man’s hurried gait was what caught my eye. And his wintry clothes. Amid the scantily clad tourists, his blue jeans, cowboy boots and flannel shirt were as exotic as a bikini on an Eskimo. He trotted around Sugden Square, darting with a jerky step between clusters of sightseers. A nervous squirrel on a hunt for nuts, he looked vaguely familiar somehow. Strange.
Lee came back with the wine and took my order.
“A burger, well done, no onions.”
She wrote it down. “Anything else, Ms. Dunne?” I never got to answer. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “He’s found me.” Terror filling her eyes, she dropped the pad on the table. As if her fear drew him like a beacon, the strange man spotted her and came at her full tilt, in his haste elbowing a woman out of his way.
“Hey, quit your shoving,” she yelled.
He ignored her and hurried toward the terrace. Trembling, Lee shrank against the pub wall.
I knocked my chair back and jumped up. “Daddy?”
She nodded, panic in her eyes. “He’ll make me go home.”
“You don’t want to?”
Too terrified to speak, she shook her head.
I hate bullies, and judging from Lee’s fear, this little, skinny guy was a bona fide bully in the flesh. No way could I sit by and let him push her around. A grizzly protecting her cub, I stood in front of Lee, my purse clutched in both hands.
“Get out of the way,” her father ordered, his body fairly quivering with rage.
I squared my shoulders, drawing myself up to my full five feet six. “I’ll do no such thing.”
“My name’s Merle Skimp, this gal’s daddy. I’m telling you to step aside.”
“I’m telling you to leave her alone.”
“You got no right to come between kin.” Skimp’s hand, quick as a snake’s strike, darted out and clutched my arm. For a skinny man, he had a powerful grip. I couldn’t shake him off.
Food forgotten, the diners at the nearby tables stopped eating to stare at us.
“Let her go, Daddy,” Lee begged. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, you won’t,” I said. “You,” I shouted to a startled diner. “Get the manager. Hurry.” To my relief, the man jumped up and rushed into the pub.
“That won’t do you no good.” Skimp tightened his hold on my arm, bruising it. “You heard her. She’s leaving this godless place. Come on, gal.” The pressure of his fingers increased, shooting pain down to my fingertips.
Shaking, ashen-faced, Lee took a step toward him. Where the hell was the manager?
As Lee moved away from the wall, Skimp let go of me to lunge for her. The tyrant. My Irish temper flared sky high. Before he could grab her, I swung my handbag and clobbered him. Combined, my cell phone, keys and makeup kit had enough clout to knock him off his feet for a second. But only for a second. He rallied, beckoning to her. “Come on.”
I struck out again, this time knocking the baseball cap off his bald head. As he bent to retrieve it, I realized why he looked familiar. “I know you!”
He was the gardener I’d seen stooping over the shrubbery on the Alexanders’ lawn.
Before he could admit or deny it, a tall, chesty man with the heft of a barroom bouncer hurried over, trailed by the flustered diner.
“I’m Brad, the pub manager. What’s the problem here?” the big guy asked.
“Ain’t nothing to worry about, sir,” Merle Skimp said, tugging the Devil Rays cap back on his head. “It’s a family matter.”
Brad turned to me. “You called for help, ma’am?”
There was that “ma’am” again. First Dreadlocks, now Brad. Clearly, I needed to change my image-lengthen my hair, shorten my skirt. Something.
“This man-” I pointed a finger at Skimp, “-attempted to abduct your server.”
At the direct accusation, Skimp found his spine. “She’s my gal. I just want to do the right thing by her. She don’t belong in here. Servin’ drinks like a common hussy.”
His eyes on Lee, Brad upped his hefty chin in her father’s direction. “You know this man?”
Trembling, Lee stepped out from behind me and nodded.
“You want to go with him?”
Without lifting her gaze from the concrete pavers lining the terrace, she shook her head. “No, sir.”
“You heard her,” Brad said to Skimp. “I have to ask you to leave.”
Skimp shot a venomous glance at me then held out a hand to Lee. She made no move to take it.
“Come on home, gal. Think of what your momma would say.”
Lee shook her head. “No, Daddy.”
Brad reached into his pants pocket and removed a cell phone. “Your choice, mister.”
“I’m goin’, but I ain’t happy about it. I’ll talk to you another day, gal.”
“Come back, I’ll call the police.” Arms crossed over his green Irish Pub T-shirt, biceps bulging, Brad held the phone, watching as Skimp darted across the square and disappeared around the corner of the Island Grill.
“I’m so sorry,” Lee began, teary eyed. She got no further.
“No need to apologize, Lee. You’re a good employee.” Brad turned to the gaping diners. “Show’s over, everybody. Drinks on the house.”
As a pleased buzz went up, he asked me, “Your name again, ma’am?”
Ma’am. “I give up.”
“What was that?” Brad asked, a puzzled look on his face.
I shook my head. “Sorry. Just thinking out loud. My name’s Deva Dunne. I opened a design shop on Fern Alley a few weeks ago.”
“We’re neighbors, then.” He held out his huge hand, pumping mine up and down with a surprising gentleness. “You’re a friend of Lee’s?”
“Yes,” I replied without a moment’s hesitation.
Lee rewarded me with a tremulous smile.
“We’re not busy right now,” he said to her. “Why don’t you take an hour off? Have a burger or something. Talk to your friend…ah…Deva. I’ll have Nancy cover for you.”
“What a nice man,” Lee said as Brad strode off.
“Absolutely,” I agreed, stopping short of adding, “One out of two ain’t bad.”
With a grateful sigh, Lee sank onto the steel mesh chair across from me. Her lips quivered, but she didn’t cry. “Daddy means well, but I had to leave home all the same. He wouldn’t let me do anything. Except go to work at Kmart. He didn’t want me to have friends, either. Not even girlfriends. And I’ve never had me a boyfriend. Not one. Not ever.”
“He wanted to keep you for himself?”
“I guess so. Since Momma passed, he’s been lonely but…”
“You have your own life to lead.”
She nodded, her eyes misty. “I stayed, though, till he told me to quit school. That’s when I left.”
“School?”
“FGCU. Florida Gulf Coast University,” she added, sitting up straight. “I’m an art major. Got me a scholarship, too. I plan to be a decorator just like you.”
Just like me. I wanted to cry. I’d seldom had a finer compliment.
“I’m renting a room two blocks over on Third Avenue, so I can walk to work, and I get a ride to class with a girl I know. Everything’s going just fine, except for-”
“Daddy.”
“Yes.”
Working nights and going to school days couldn’t be easy. She looked so frail and burdened I reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “Let’s order burgers and Cokes. You’ll feel better after you eat something.” She had a long way to go until the pub closed at midnight.
We had nearly finished eating when she surprised me with a question. “Deva, would you like some help in your new shop? When I peeked in the window the other day, I told myself I’d surely love to work there.”
I rested what was left of the burger on my plate. “I’m barely getting started, Lee. I can’t afford to hire anyone.”
Her eyes flared wide. “Oh, I don’t mean for pay. I mean kind of like a-what’s the word?-internship. Yes, that’s it. Internship. For the experience, like.”
I shook my head. “That would be taking unfair advantage of you. Besides, you have enough to do as is.”
“I worked at Kmart all through high school and after. I got to know the Martha Stewart line real good. Martha’s another decorating lady,” she added, “just like you.”
Just like me. I sighed and gave in on the spot. “What did you have in mind?”
The last bites of her burger abandoned, Lee leaned forward, eyes aglow. “Well, I’m free Wednesday and Friday afternoons from two to five. I kind of thought if you’re working all alone, you might need to leave, you know, to go to customers’ homes and stuff. I could keep the shop open. At least two afternoons a week.”
“Lee, has anyone ever told you that you’re a steel magnolia?”
Her brow furrowed. “No. What do y’all mean?”
“You’re strong.”
“I wish my daddy thought so,” she said, looking as wistful as an abandoned child.
“If he didn’t before, chances are he does now. Though you’d better be careful walking home at night. He might follow you.”
“It’s okay, Deva. He won’t hurt me.”
Hoping she was right, I glanced out onto Sugden Square. Couples strolling arm in arm had replaced the tourist families. As night deepened, the lights on the tree trunks transformed the palms into glimmering sculptures. A lovely sight, but I couldn’t keep staring at it without answering Lee’s question. Yet how to answer her? The last thing I wanted was to hurt her feelings, but with my entire future at stake, the truth was my only option. I pulled my gaze from the square and looked across the table.
She was a beautiful girl, anyone could see that, but I suspected her wardrobe consisted of jeans, Reeboks and T-shirts. Loose T-shirts. Daddy wouldn’t have allowed anything else.
“Well, for openers, interior designers sell the sizzle. The steak comes later.”
“Y’all confusing me, Deva.”
“What I mean is it’s an image business.”
She nodded, her brow creasing as she waited for me to make my point.
Oh boy, this wasn’t going to be easy, but I had no choice except to plunge ahead. “To put it in as few words as possible, you need a signature look.”
“A what?”
I blew out a breath. “Clothes.”
“Oh. I don’t have any,” she said, sagging back onto the metal chair. “Nothing but jeans and tops.”
She looked so upset, I quickly added, “I can help you with that. So say we agree…you work in the shop Wednesday and Friday afternoons.” I held up a warning hand. “On three conditions.”
She nodded before I could count them off.
Index finger: “You bring your homework. When the shop’s quiet, you get in some studying.”
Third finger: “As soon as I’m out of the red, you go on the payroll.”
Ring finger: “Before you start, I buy you a black dress and high-heeled sandals. Black is fabulous on blondes. Wait and see. And a string of chunky faux pearls.”
“I’ve never had no black dress before.”
We’d have to work on those double negatives, too, but not tonight.
“Tomorrow’s Wednesday, why don’t you stop by at two, and we’ll shop for a dress?”
The smile on her face drove away any misgivings I might have had-except for one. “If you’re going to work with me, there’s something I should warn you about.” I hesitated. What I had to tell her might kill our association before it began. I gave a mental shrug. No way to avoid that. She deserved to know. “I’m involved with the police.”
Before I could say another thing, she raised her right hand then dropped it, palm down. “Don’t you go worrying yourself one little bit, Deva. I read the newspaper this morning. I know all about that dead body you found.”