TWENTY-ONE

Sergeant Espinoza rotated on a shiny booted heel and left the room. After a moment, both Claire and Mamie passed the doorway wearing deer-caught-in-headlights faces. They slid into their jackets in stunned silence. The sergeant stood behind them, arms crossed, legs splayed.

Claire poked her head around the office door. “I’ll call you later.”

“Payton!” came Aden’s voice through the phone. “Are you all right? What’s going on over there?”

“N-nothing’s wrong, I have to go.” She hung up the phone.

The front door closed. Espinoza stalked into the office and sat. With the slow precision of a Rolex, he opened his notebook, withdrew a pen and poised it over the page. Payton swallowed hard.

“Care to explain what I just heard?”

She wanted to say, “not really,” but opened her mouth and told the truth. “Simple, I just don’t feel like answering any more questions.”

“In fifteen years with the department I’ve learned two things: there are no coincidences and…nothing’s ever simple.”

“Well, you’ll have to change your theory because that’s all it was. I have a date tonight and—” As if on cue, the front door opened and Aden stormed inside. If surprised, Espinoza didn’t show it. He did get up from the chair and expand to his full height and breadth, which didn’t intimidate Aden one iota.

“What’s going on here?” Aden growled.

“Just some questions.”

“I don’t like your tactics. I heard her voice on the phone. You’ve got her scared to death. After what she went through yesterday…”

“Look at her, sir. She’s no more frightened than you or I.”

Payton tried to don what she thought was a troubled look, but Aden’s expression said she’d failed. “He overheard me tell you to hurry and he took it to mean I have something to hide.”

“Aaaah.” Aden drew out the sound while he processed the information.

“I guess he thinks I poisoned Sean then dove overboard to try and rescue him.”

The sergeant perked forward like a Doberman on guard. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Aden and I were talking, and we decided that’s probably how Sean died.”

“I’d like you to leave now,” the sergeant said to Aden.

Aden backed out of the room, giving the officer an “I’ll be keeping my eye on you” look.

Sergeant Espinoza sat, crossing right leg over left. There was a smudge on his boot. She figured a man so well pressed and polished would want to know about it, so she didn’t say anything.

“Where were you Wednesday night, the night before the race? Start around supper time.”

Why did he want to know her whereabouts? He couldn’t possibly think she had anything to do with this. “I closed the shop and walked home. I cooked dinner and worked in here a while. Then I went to bed.”

“Alone?”

“What sort of question is that?” The words were no sooner out of her mouth when she realized their significance. “You’re checking my alibi. But, why me?”

“Did you leave the house at all? Go for a walk? To the supermarket? Gas station?”

Payton pretended to think, even though she was sure of where she’d been—right here. There was no way she could prove it except for when Aden had called around 10 p.m.

Where did Espinoza want her to have been? Probably somewhere around the marina. Whatever happened to Sean and Frank must have something to do with the MaryAnn. Thankfully, she’d never taken Sean up on any of his proposals. Her fingerprints, or whatever evidence they collected, was nowhere among any of his things, except maybe in the café dining room where she’d eaten once, weeks ago.

“I didn’t leave the house.”

“Did you use the phone?”

“I made a couple of calls.”

“Mind telling me to whom?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

“Tell me and I’ll go away,” he said in that infuriatingly calm, even tone of voice.

“I think you’re going anyway.” Payton pushed her chair back, hard.

Espinoza didn’t get up, though he did uncross his right leg and cross the left one over it. Payton leaned wearily against the desk.

“What sort of relationship did you and Sean have?”

“Sean Adams and I didn’t have any relationship, and I resent you insinuating that we did.”

“I didn’t mean that sort of relationship. Necessarily.”

Of course he hadn’t meant that right off the bat. He’d beat around the subject first. “I’m sure you’ve heard Sean and I didn’t get along.”

Espinoza waited.

Should she tell him? He already knew they disliked one another. It was possible he already knew why. “There are paintings for sale in his restaurant. I asked about one by Frederic Edwin Church. We couldn’t agree on a price.”

The sergeant’s eyes took in the imported furnishings and antique books on the shelf behind him.

“Just because I can afford expensive things doesn’t mean I buy them.”

“Continue.”

“That’s all.”

“What about the argument you had in the middle of the street?”

“It was about the painting. He asked for his money. I told him I’d never agreed on a price, and it went from there.”

“Were there any threats made?”

She thought back. The exact content of the discussion escaped her, but she couldn’t recall any specific threats. She shook her head.

“How did you feel about him besides that situation?”

“I didn’t like him. He was too full of himself. He wears women as badges of honor.”

“He ever ask you out?”

“Yes. And no, I didn’t go.”

“How did he react to that?”

“He said I’d change my mind.” She picked up a pen and began twirling it in her fingers. “Besides, Sean is married. I don’t date married men.”

“I understand he’s getting divorced.”

“It’s what I heard.”

“Many women don’t care whether a man’s married or not.”

She slapped the pen down. “I’m not one of them.”

He was trying to make her angry and almost succeeded. She folded her arms and let her irritation pour out through fingertips clutching the fabric of her blouse. “Look, Sergeant, I’m new in town. I haven’t known Sean long enough to want him dead.”

“It doesn’t take long to develop a hatred for someone. Take the man who rapes a woman. In one brief flash of time, she’s been violated beyond anything she’s ever experienced. She feels hatred, revulsion and horror. She could conceivably do something completely contrary to her calm nature and kill the perpetrator.”

“If that’s what you’re trying to suggest happened here you can forget it.”

“No, Ms. Winters. I was just making a point. Now tell me why you believe Mr. Adams was poisoned.”

“Aden said that in his line of work—”

“What experience has Mr. Green got with poisons?”

“Well, none that I know of. He said he’s seen it happen in his line of work, a prime minister or emir just keels over dead. He said it always turns out they were poisoned.”

“What sort of poison do you think might have been used on Sean?”

“I don’t know anything about poisons. It was just talk. I bet half the people in town are talking about it right now. We’re all curious to know how Sean died. Simple as that.” She stressed the word simple.

“So you expect me to believe you didn’t kill Sean.”

“Of course that’s what I want you to believe. Sean was just a pain in the neck, like a mosquito.”

“What do people do to mosquitoes?” The sergeant smacked the notebook shut, stood and shook out the creases of his slacks. Payton didn’t follow him to the front door.

She wiped her palms on her slacks and marched to the kitchen. The three glasses of brandy Claire had poured were on the counter. She downed the contents of one, and then the second. The silky liquid spread a blanket of warmth down her throat, insides and then into her somewhat steadier legs. She took the third glass and went out to the patio.

The rain had stopped, but the feel of it was still heavy in the air. The newly planted garden scents: oregano, thyme and lavender were calming. She sipped the brandy, feeling more like the Payton of several years ago. The Payton she wanted to be.

Another sip gave her the energy to go inside to dress for her date with Aden. She’d been thinking of asking him if they could stay home tonight but suddenly she couldn’t wait to get out of the house.

She shut the sliders and started when she saw him standing there, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. He took the glass, set it down and wrapped her in his arms.

“It’ll be all right.” His warm breath tickled a strand of hair against her ear. He patted her bottom. “Go get dressed. We’ll get the hell out of here.”