“Yeah? You had a rave-up down there just yesterday, didn’t you? Nasties and the bedsheet bunch. Saw it on television, I did. What’s going to happen tomorrow?”
“That’s always the question, isn’t it?”
“That’s what makes a horse race.”
“Damn,” said Fletch. “I didn’t think you knew what makes a horse race.”
* * *
And Fletch did not mind telephoning Chief of Detectives Roz Nachman at that early hour. Police stations are supposed to be open for twenty-four-hour-a-day service. If she wasn’t there yet he should be able to leave a message.
But she was there.
“Aren’t you getting any sleep at all, Chief?”
“Thank you for your concern, Mister Fletcher.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Staging that drug bust this morning. Here at The Blue House. I’m sure I’ll figure out why in a minute. Trying to discover who’s sleeping with whom? You could have asked. You did before.”
“How’s the weather in Key West?”
“Nice.”
“It’s nice here, too.”
“Having John Meade busted in Key West for a few qualudes is not nice of you.”
“John Meade?”
“He could end up with a jail sentence, you know. He’s a big name. Make good headlines for the authorities in Key West.”
“Was he in illegal possession of a controlled substance?”
“That’s why he’s being held.”
“I’m sorry. Loved him in
“So did he. He won’t be able to use his talents to give you much more pleasure if he’s in the hoosegow.”
“So I’ll see
“Yes?”
“We had it checked out. The car was in the parking lot on Bonita Beach. A blue Cadillac.” “A rented car?”
“Yes. No damage. Not a scrape. So that’s the end of that great line of investigation.”
“What date did he rent the car?”
There was a long silence from Chief of Detectives Roz Nachman. “That’s a good point. Are you trying to get ahead of me, Mister Fletcher?”
“Would you expect him to keep a damaged car? A damaged rented car?”
“I wonder what date he actually arrived in Florida.”
“I don’t know. I should think you’d know by now.”
“I would, too. Okay …”
“So that line of investigation is still open?”
“We’ll check further.”
“Another thing. You must know that yesterday we had sort of a riot here. A demonstration. Some violence.”
“It was in all the papers. On T.V. Everybody’s name mentioned but your’s. Who are you, Mister Fletcher?”
“Chief, one of these groups might really have been trying to stop this film. I mean, to the point of murder. Gerry Littleford said last night that he had received threatening letters and phone calls—”
“Does he have any of the letters?”
“No. But the riot yesterday—Stella Littleford did get hurt. Some of these people can be vicious. Insanely vicious.
“Vicious but not smart. I don’t think your average bigoted tub-of-lard is up to getting on location and then making a knife magically appear between the ribs of somebody sitting on a well-lit stage in daylight surrounded by cameras. … Do you, earwig?”
“No.”
“Keep trying, earwig. Things are looking worse and worse for your Ms Moxie Mooney. I need a devil’s advocate.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, all those film experts we hired—they’re coming down pretty heavily on her. That dance she did.”
“What dance?”
“Didn’t you see her? Thought you were there.” “What dance?”
“Just before the, you know, murder. Moxie Mooney got up from her chair and did a little dance. She was showing Dan Buckley some little dance step she did in
“In her bathrobe?”
“Make-up robe, dressing gown, whatever you want to call it. It’s terrycloth. We have it. I should think it would be too big for her.”
“So she couldn’t have done it.”
“So she could have. After she did her little dance step, she went back to her own chair, crossing behind where Peterman and Buckley were sitting.”
“She crossed behind them.”
“Yes. Behind. It’s in all the videotapes. In fact, it looks a little unnatural. From where she finished her dance, she could have walked directly back to her chair, or behind Peterman and Buckley. She chose to walk behind them.”
“Oh, God.”
“The experts have drawn lines all over the stage floor. They talk in cubes. Do you understand that?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. Upshot of it is they said it would have been more direct, and more natural for her to walk in front of the men. It looks a little unnatural to me. But, keep tryin’, earwig. Believe me, I’d rather find some group of crazies guilty of murder than Moxie Mooney. This is not the way I want to become a famous detective.”
“Are there any other leads you’re following?”
“Sure. But let me keep a few secrets, will you? Again I warn you, Fletcher: don’t you and Ms Mooney leave Key West, except to come back here.”
“I hear you.”
“Some people were a little nervous when you went sailing yesterday.” “You know about that?”
“The Coast Guard did a helicopter over you.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. They said you were real cute together. Said it was just like watching a movie.”
31
“Cats will bark before I ever accept an invitation to stay in your house again, Mister What’s-your-name Fletcher,” Edith Howell stated at breakfast.
“What Katz?” asked Sy Koller. “Sam Katz or Jock Katz?”
They were crowded at the white iron framed glass table on the cistern in the backyard of The Blue House. Moxie had not yet come down to breakfast.
“A riot out of control one morning. People throwing rocks at the house. Bopping poor Stella with a bottle. Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Jock Katz always barked,” Sy Koller said. “He barked all the time.”
“A police raid this morning, at dawn. They came right into my bedroom while I was sleeping! I threw my
