Mike Jastrzebski - Key Lime Blues

“Great.” Tanya jumped up and carried her cup over to the sink. “I’m gonna need another hit of caffeine.”

She let the water run for a minute, rinsed out the pot, and filled it before taking a bag of coffee from the cupboard. She ground the fresh beans and there was a gentle rhythm in the way she moved that made me feel at home.

Maybe it was the rich smell of the coffee. Maybe it was the sense of shared danger. Maybe it was only my imagination, but I think we both felt comfortable with the other’s presence. It was a quiet moment and neither of us spoke until she switched on the coffee maker and leaned back against the counter.

“Way before ‘Alvin’s’,” she began. “Dad was part owner in a strip club. Gail’s mother, Shelly, was a dancer at the club and Dad fell in love with her. He moved her and Gail into the house here. For the two years they lived with us, Gail and I were as close as sisters.”

“Did you keep in touch when she went away to school?”

Tanya shook her head. “No. We had a falling out after she and Shelly left and we didn’t talk much to each other afterward. I heard about what happened at Michigan State by word of mouth. Key West is still a small town and the gossip spread fast. I’ll admit I was a little surprised when I learned she was dancing.”

“Why’s that?”

“She hated the fact that her mother was a stripper. She once told me she’d rather be dead than take her clothes off in front of a bunch of drunks.”

“You guys seem buddy-buddy now,” I said. “She didn’t think twice about calling you at three in the morning when she needed a place to spend the night.”

The coffee pot made its final gurgles and Tanya rinsed her cup under the faucet, picked up the pot, and carried them to the table. She poured us both a fresh cup and settled back into her chair.

“Gail started coming into the bar about a month or so ago. She hooked up with Billy, and while he was playing we got reacquainted. I think she was lonely, and we go back a long way. What difference does it make?”

“I don’t know if it makes a difference. But I’d like you to help me understand her.”

“And why’s that Wes? You figure if you understand her you can find her? Then what? You get your money back. You get the diamonds and your ass isn’t hanging out there waiting to have someone chew on it. What about Gail? If she doesn’t get killed does she continue stripping? Do you even care?”

I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose with my thumb. This woman sitting across the table intrigued me. One minute we seemed to be in sync, the next we were at each other’s throats. She appeared to be smart and caring, but also a little bit naive.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Tanya. I want my money back. And I don’t want to take a bullet because Gail did something stupid. If I can find her and get the diamonds into Frankie’s hands, we should be able to put this whole thing to rest. I’m pretty sure he wants those diamonds more than he wants her dead.”

“You don’t think she’s going to turn over the diamonds, do you?”

I stared across the table and let her think about things for a moment before asking, “Am I wrong?”

She shook her head. “Gail believes she’s smarter than you, or Frank Szymanski, or these other guys you’ve been telling me about. I told you, she’s always liked the idea of easy money. I’m sure it’s why she started dancing.”

“So will you help me find her?”

Tanya picked up her cup and blew on the coffee again. Not because it was hot, I suspected, but because it bought her a few seconds to think. Finally, she let out a sigh. “I’ll help if you promise to do everything you can to keep her alive.”

“I planned on that all along,” I said. “Even without your help.”

She smiled for the first time. “For some reason, I believe you. So now what?”

I reached out and touched her hand and was glad when she didn’t pull it away. I let my hand linger for a heartbeat, and then stood. “I guess I’d better go talk to Elvis.”

Tanya began to chew on her lip. I knew something was on her mind, so I waited for her to find the right words. When she looked up, she focused her eyes on mine. “Would you stop back here after you talk to him? I mean if Gail decides she made a mistake, this is where she’ll look for you.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If it’s not too late after I talk to Elvis, I’ll stop back here. Otherwise, I’ll catch you at the bar and fill you in on what’s happening. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure this turns out all right for her-if she’ll let me.”

My phone rang while I was standing on the porch. The day had started off on a sour note, and I groaned when I looked at the number. It was my mother, and I didn’t think now was the right time to tell her about the stolen money.

My first inclination was to ignore the call. Subconsciously, I reached into my pants pocket where I used to keep a roll of Tums. They weren’t there because I hadn’t needed them since moving to paradise, at least not until a couple of days ago. A good deal of the stress I’d experienced as a P.I. had been the result of working for my mother. She’d made demands on me she never would have made on another operative, and she was much less forgiving of my mistakes.

Unfortunately, I’d agreed to pick her up at the airport when she arrived. The last thing I needed was for her to be hanging around while Frankie and his goons chased after me. With a sigh, I plopped down on the top step of the porch and flipped the phone open.

“Hello Mother.”

“I got a call from Frank Szymanski this morning,” she said. “He said you screwed up the meeting with the girl. He wants his fee back. Are you doing this on purpose?”

A middle-aged couple dressed in matching white shorts and gaudy shirts rode by on bicycles and waved when they saw me. I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me, but in Key West that didn’t matter.

I waved back. “I didn’t screw anything up, Mother. Szymanski’s man was waiting for her with a gun. He didn’t leave me a choice.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. She stole something from him. He wants it back. It’s a no-brainer, Wes. We were hired to find her. You did your job, you found her. I would think you’d be more concerned about who killed Nick.”

“So you knew all along that this wasn’t about unrequited love?”

“Not until he called this morning.”

“It seems to me Frankie Szymanski should be our number one suspect.” I said.

“What would he have to gain by killing Nick?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nick could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I believe it was you and Nick who taught me not to believe in coincidence,” I said.

“I know. But shit does happen, and sometimes it is only a coincidence. You need to keep an open mind.”

“This really doesn’t have anything to do with Nick,” I said. “I couldn’t let them hurt the girl.”

“She’s a thief Wes. Not to mention the fact that she’s a stripper and a whore. She put her own tits in the wringer and it’s not up to you to pull ‘em out. You’re not screwing her, are you Wes?”

“This isn’t about sex, Mother. I reacted to a situation and did what I thought was right.”

“Maybe I should have left you tending bar and handled this myself.”

“Maybe you should have.” My words shut her up for about thirty seconds. I could almost see her reaching for her cigarettes when she let out a loud sigh.

“This isn’t about the stripper, is it?” she said. “This is about the other girl.”

“The other girl has a name. And this has nothing to do with Celine or what happened to her.” Even while the words sprang from my mouth I knew she was probably right. It wasn’t only in my dreams that I thought about Celine Stewart.