Castle Cay Page 10

  Julie noted that the guarded behavior David had displayed earlier had disappeared in Rolly’s company. Instead, he was subtly preening: tugging at his collar one minute and running his hands through his hair the next.

  So that was your secret, David, thought Julie. Rolly is your lover. For how long, I wonder?

  They were enjoying the strawberry shortcake when the doorbell rang. David went to answer it.

  Suddenly, he was confronted with video cams and police.

  “David Harris? You’re under arrest for the murder of Marcus Solomon.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 34

  “Julie!”

  David’s eyes searched frantically for her, as the police handcuffed him.

  Julie dug in her purse, and found the scrap of paper on which she had scribbled a name and number.

  Jacob Goldman (305) 438-5253

  She ran out the door, Rolly right behind her. “Don’t worry, David!” she yelled to him as they ducked him into the back of the cruiser. She waved the paper. “I’ll get Jake Goldman! We’ll be there soon!”

  The cruiser pulled away with David looking back at her, a picture of distress.

  Brushing past Rolly, Julie ran back in the house and grabbed the phone. Hurriedly, she punched in the number.

  “Goldman Law Firm,” a woman’s voice said. “Can you hold, please?”

  “No, I can’t! I need to speak to Jacob Goldman right away! Tell him David Harris has just been charged with murdering Marc Solomon!”

  “And who am I speaking to, please?”

  “My name is Julie O’Hara, and I’m calling about David Harris.”

  “Just a moment, please,” the woman said in a maddeningly calm voice. And then Julie was on hold…waiting and waiting.

  “I better go, Julie,” said Rolly. “I’ll call you later.”

  Julie nodded, still on hold, listening to inane music. Suddenly, it ended. “Hello, this is Jake Goldman,” said a deep, authoritative voice.

  “Mr. Goldman! I’m Julie O’Hara. I’m a friend of Joe Garrett in Orlando. He said for David Harris to call you, if he needed an attorney. The police have just been here and arrested him for murder! Can you meet him at the Key West police station?”

  “Yes. I’m just finishing with a client. But I’m in Key Largo, near Miami, Ms. O’Hara…it’ll take me a couple hours to get there.”

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “I’m going there now. I’ll tell David.”

  Julie saw the keys to the VW on the kitchen counter. She snatched them up, along with her purse, and ran out the front door. There were some neighbors outside who had just witnessed poor David’s ignominy. Julie asked one of the men if he knew where the police station was located. He gave her directions, and she thanked him and took off.

  When she got there, reporters were milling around outside. It looked like they were setting up for a press conference. She went inside the crowded station and up to the desk. Explaining who she was, she asked to see David.

  “Sorry, Miss. Not right now. You can wait out here if you want.”

  “But I want to let him know that his lawyer is on the way,” she said.

  “When his lawyer gets here, he can go in. Sorry.”

  Julie knew there was nothing she could do.

  “Officer? Do you happen to know the attorney, Jacob Goldman?”

  “Yeah, I know Jake Goldman.”

  “He’ll be here in about two hours,” she said. “I plan to be back here waiting for him, but I’ve never met him. Will you point him out to me when he comes in?”

  “Sure.”

  Julie drove directly to the nearest bar with a TV, and ordered a scotch and soda. Sure enough, at the top of the hour, David’s arrest was on the local news channel. She sat there, astonished at the suddenness of the police department’s action. Apparently, they felt they had enough circumstantial evidence to move forward with a murder charge!

  She shook her head, knowing that David had no alibi.

  •

  Jake Goldman arrived about an hour after Julie came back from the bar, and the officer signaled her up to the desk. The attorney appeared to be in his fifties with hair like steel wool and dark rimmed glasses. He’d set his briefcase on the floor and was talking to the officer when Julie walked up.

  “Mr. Goldman, I’m Julie O’Hara. I called you.”

  “It’s Jake. Nice to meet you, Julie,” he said, shaking her hand. “It’s a good thing you did. I better get in there. No point in you waiting here. He’ll be here at least overnight. I’ll tell him you were here. He should be able to call you.”

  And with that, he was gone. The man’s brisk, all-business manner was reassuring; he wasn’t wasting any time. Julie made her way out through the crowd, and went back to the house to wait for David’s call.

  It was 10:00 pm when he finally did.

  “Julie, it’s David.”

  He sounded tired, beaten down.

  She hit the mute button on the TV remote.

  “David! I’m so glad to hear from you! I tried to get in to see you,” she said. “Have you seen Jake Goldman?”

  “Yes, thank God. Thank you for calling him. An arraignment is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Jake said that ‘I shouldn’t worry’. As if! Anyway, he expects that I’ll get bail, because I have no record and long ties to the community.”

  “Should I be there to pick you up?”

  “No. Jake said once bail is arranged, the police will take me home. They’ll make me wear an electronic ankle cuff.” He sighed.

  “This is a nightmare, Julie.”

  “I know. But Jake’s right, don’t worry,” said Julie. “Do you know Joe Garrett, the private investigator in my office building? He’s helping you, too, David. He’s following up on a lead right now! And Jake Goldman has an excellent reputation. You’re in good hands…and I’ll stay right here at the house with you.

  “Their case has to be flimsy, David. They can’t prove it, because they’ve got the wrong man. It’s going to be all right. I’ll be waiting here for you when you get home.”

  “Thank you, Julie. I’m so grateful. I have to hang up now, bye.”

  Julie wished that her confidence would catch up with her acting.

  At midnight, she went to bed, sick of the hyper television coverage.

  •

  Julie tossed and turned, checking the illuminated clock every half hour.

  She was desperate to get some sleep! At two o’clock, in the soft light from the pool patio, she crossed the house to the master bedroom. She went to the medicine cabinet in the adjoining bath to look for something to help her sleep.

  Fortunately, David had a prescription for Xanax and she took one.

  Julie shuffled back through the silent house to the guest room, climbed into bed and was soon fast asleep.

  She never noticed the date on the prescription.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 35

  Is that my cell phone ringing?

  Julie stumbled out of bed, fished around in her purse, and pulled out the phone. It was too late. She checked the caller ID.

  Area code 305? Isn’t that Miami?

  Half asleep, she called the number. It rang just once.

  “Hello?” a familiar voice said.

  “This is Julie O’Hara,” she said.

  “Merlin! It’s Joe!”

  “Hi…Are you in Miami?”

  “Yes. I’m at Will Sawyer’s house. “We’re flying to Castle Cay this morning. We’re just heading for the airport now. I saw the news about David’s arrest on TV! What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know anymore than you do, Joe.” said Julie. “I did meet Jake Goldman, though. He seems like a good attorney. Poor David is beside himself with worry. I’m hoping he’ll be out on bail later today.”

  “I hope so, too,” he said.

  “Julie, did you say that there’s a caretaker on Castle Cay?”

  “Yes. John Drum. His wife’s name is Mary…and
there’s a boy, Alfred.”

  “Okay. We’ll get some aerial shots and I’ll try to talk to him,” he said. “I’ve got to go, Merlin. Will’s waiting for me. Be sure you tell Jake Goldman about the island, and Holiday’s offer to buy it. A deal that big…it’s hard to imagine it’s not connected. Gotta go. I’ll call you when I get back. “

  They hung up, and Julie thought about all the people and events cropping up in her investigation. She showered and dressed quickly. Then she put on a pot of coffee, and went up to Marc’s studio.

  The loft had large, sliding windows all around. Outside, the storm shutters were lifted high, cranked fully open. The view of the Gulf was spectacular. An unfinished canvas was on the easel, and Marc’s voice echoed faintly…“I love the sunset after a storm…” Julie inhaled sharply, closed her eyes and turned away from the painting.

  Finished canvases were stacked, one after another, on a rack in the right corner of the room. A counter ran along two of the walls, just under the windows. Art supplies filled the shelves below: canvas and wood, smooth boards, pads, papers, palettes, etc. On the top, more supplies: oil and acrylic paints, watercolor paints, brushes of every size and shape…and cans, cans, everywhere.

  Julie saw the items she had come up for: a large, white sheet of heavy paper, a fat pencil and a roll of masking tape. She brought them all downstairs, and taped the sheet of paper to the refrigerator.

  There. Now I’m going to organize this...

  The phone rang. It was Rolly, worried about David.

  Julie told him that she didn’t know anything that wasn’t on the news, except that she expected David to be out on bail later in the day. Rolly asked her to have David call him as soon as he could.

  Were they lovers when Marc was alive?

  The phone rang again.

  It was David’s mother in Illinois. She was hysterical. Julie explained who she was, and told her David’s arrest was a terrible mistake, that he would be home later today, and that she shouldn’t worry….and yes, of course, she would have him call her right away.

  She hung up again.

  And the phone rang again!

  The Caller ID said, “Key West Citizen”, a local newspaper.

  This time Julie didn’t pick it up.

  She began her chart.

  I’m going to assume David is innocent, in spite of his relationship with Rolly. I have to find out how long that’s been going on. Still, I don’t think it matters. David is grieving for Marc.

  So…if there was no forced entry, and no one but Marc and David had a key…then Marc had to let someone in, right? Someone he knew.

  Oh, God. That could be anybody! Never mind, I’ll put in what I know.

  Julie listed the few names she had: Avram Solomon, Frank Martino, Rolly Archer and Susan Dwyer.

  In her own shorthand, she filled in everything she knew about them, including events and possible connections: The Solomon auto dealerships, the sale of Castle Cay, the Sandpiper Art Gallery and Marc’s Boston show.

  Meanwhile, the phone kept on ringing.

  Around noontime, David came home.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 36

  Julie had never seen David looking like this, so tired, red-eyed and disheveled. She hugged him and led him to one of the comfortable kitchen chairs.

  “I was just about to make a BLT and have a glass of Chardonnay. Want some?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes, please,” he said, “especially the Chardonnay.”

  “David, your mother called, and Rolly called, too. They both want you to call them as soon as possible. They’re worried about you.”

  “I’m so tired,” he said. “But I’ll call them right after lunch. I’m just glad to be home. It was so terrible in there…” He started to cry. “I miss Marc so much.”

  Julie pushed the napkin holder toward him; he took one and wiped his eyes. She understood what it was like to suddenly lose someone you loved so much. But, she couldn’t imagine being humiliated and thrown in jail, on top of it.

  Like kicking a hit-and-run victim.

  When David looked up, he noticed the big chart taped to the refrigerator.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  Julie poured them a glass of wine and began preparing the sandwiches.

  “Somebody killed Marc, David…and it wasn’t you. Joe and I are collecting a lot of information right now, and I’m organizing it,” she said, putting a plate of bacon in the microwave.

  “What can I do to help?” he said.

  “Well, we need to talk some more about some of these people, and maybe some others. Right now, though, I think you need to get some sleep.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t slept at all since they took me in yesterday,’ he said. “After we eat, I’ll call my mother and I’ll call Rolly. Maybe he can come over tomorrow and help us, too.” He sighed. “After that, I think I will go to bed.”

  It seemed like an opportune time to let him know that she was aware of their relationship.

  “David, I know about Rolly.”

  He set his wine down, shocked.

  “He told you?”

  Without waiting for a response, David rushed on. “He didn’t do it, Julie! He never left my side; I would have known! He was just as shocked as I was!”

  Julie closed her mouth, which had fallen open. Rolly Archer stayed here that night. That’s what David was hiding.

  “Why didn’t you tell the police Rolly was here, that you found Marc together?”

  “Didn’t he tell you?” he said, confused.

  “David. Rolly never told me anything. I guessed that you two were on intimate terms with each other. That’s all I meant. “

  “Oh, God,” he said, his hand covering his mouth. It was much too late, as the truth had already escaped like a canary from an opened cage.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 37

  Below the helicopter, the Caribbean Sea was a sparkling vision of blue and green shades, from pale aqua to emerald. There were white caps here and there, rippling across the surface, and they were flying low enough to clearly see the fishing boats and pleasure craft.

  “There, Joe, look!” yelled Will. “Check the map, northeast!”

  Joe could barely hear Will over the sound of the rotor blades. He adjusted his headphones, cupping his ears more securely. They were passing over a very large, crescent shaped island, which encircled an innumerable amount of small isles to its left. It was very developed, lots of pastel stucco homes.

  “Not here. Ahead of us, to the left,” said Will.

  Joe could hear him better now.

  “The small outer islands in a string, running north and south. See that one with all the boats and buildings? That’s Green Turtle Cay. Just past it…there’s Manjack …mostly empty. Do you see it?”

  Joe was following the names on the map and looking in the direction Will was pointing. He saw the island named Manjack Cay, and nodded.

  “Okay,” Will said, “There’s Castle Cay, straight ahead of us, northeast of Manjack. It’s the furthest out-island. See it?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Joe.

  The island was shaped like an elongated triangle from north to south. The western side of Castle Cay, which they were approaching, stuck out toward them in a wide V shape. There was a picture-perfect beach ringed with palm trees to the right of the V point, and a long boat dock. A house sat up high in the dense foliage.

  The chopper climbed, scaling a high, rocky ridge that ran the length of Castle Cay. As they cleared the top, a broad terrace appeared below, dropping off to a long, nearly straight edge sliced against the deep, cobalt blue ocean.

  “Well, Buddy,” said Will, pointing. “You’re in luck! There’s an airstrip over there. We can land, if you want.”

  “Can we get some pictures of the island first and then come back and land here?” asked Joe.

  “Sure. The camera’s all set to go. Hang on, while I circle the place.”

  There were a co
uple of small buildings near the airstrip, and a rock/cement wall and pier. Joe could see the waves, rolling against the land in a long, jagged line of white foam. As they flew south, he noticed a small indentation, a beach, protected by a reef. The far southern end of the island tapered off into a string of shoals.

  As they came back, heading north up the Caribbean side on the west, there was a great deal more foliage. They passed the ridge house again. It was shuttered and deserted, a blind sentinel above a gorgeous beach. The long dock stretched out over shallows so clear they could see schools of fish.

  “Even you could catch one here, old Buddy,” said Will.

  Joe laughed, shaking his head.

  Ahead, around the bend, they saw what looked like an old farmhouse. There was a barn and some ramshackle buildings, with no one in sight. They continued on, but saw no other houses or structures. Castle Cay’s big central ridge led to smaller, empty islands on its northern tip trailing like a rocky green spine on a partially submerged alligator. They banked to the right and headed south once more on the far side of the high ridge.

  The chopper lowered, gently swinging from side to side, and settled on the cracked landing strip. They got out and walked toward the cement block structures. There was nothing much inside: one had a long, portable wooden table that was damaged and falling apart, and there was some debris…pieces of plastic wrap, paper, a soda can.

  “Drug runners,” said Joe.

  “Yeah, sure looks like it, Buddy. I saw another empty island with a makeshift strip like this in the southern Bahamas. I was flying a narc. He was looking for it. He said they usually just did drops. But, you know that big ridge there? You can’t see this set-up from the other side of this island.”

  “Looks like it hasn’t been used for awhile,” said Joe.

  “No,” said Will. “You say Holiday Cruise Line is interested in this place?”

  “Oh, yeah. Forty million interested.”