Mike Jastrzebski - Key Lime Blues

Smathers Beach was on the way to the airport, and since that was where Detective Davies told me they found Nick’s body, I decided to stop and take a quick look around. I didn’t expect to find anything useful, but I needed to see where Nick had died.

It was late in the afternoon and I was able to find a parking space in the small lot across from the beach. I kicked off my shoes, set them on the passenger seat, and walked barefoot across the street.

It was the weekend and although the water was cool at this time of the year, the beach was still crowded. Families picnicked and young girls in bikinis walked in packs giggling and showing off to the boys. There were a fair number of older women strutting around who should have packed up their skimpy suits years ago, and even a few aging Lotharios.

You find these guys at every beach in Florida. They’re often in their fifties, or even sixties. They wear their long graying hair in ponytails, are in reasonably good shape, and spend long hours cultivating tans that are eventually going to help kill them. Often they wear Speedos, and hit on young women half their age. I suspect the ones with money are more successful than the ones without, but what the hell do I know.

There was no sign anyone had been murdered on the beach. No police tape, no cops, no bloody sand. Davies had told me bodies were bad for business in a tourist town like Key West, so I didn’t expect to find anything. I just wanted to get a feel for the place.

I wandered the beach and wondered what had drawn Nick here. Was he meeting a woman? Was he working his case? Had he stopped to take in the island’s ambiance and wandered across something he shouldn’t have. While I walked along the water’s edge and headed back to my van, I realized these were all questions that would never be answered to my satisfaction and it made me angry.

I kicked at the sand with my bare feet and stubbed my toe on a rock that shouldn’t have been there. I swore, which earned me an evil look from a nearby mother who was building a sand castle with her son.

My foul mood was still hanging over me like a swarm of hungry gnats when I walked through the corridor of the airport to the baggage pickup where my mother stood waiting for me. She was dressed in a thin, colorful pantsuit that clung to her trim body, and was pacing along the outskirts of a small crowd of people fighting for their luggage.

From a distance she could have passed for my sister. Her long blond hair draped her shoulders and hung halfway down her back. It wasn’t until you got close that her age became apparent. Too many years of smoking and sun worship had turned her skin to a leathery brown. Her eyelids had been lifted, her cheeks sculpted by a skilled surgeon, but all that work only accentuated the fine lines around her mouth and eyes.

When she saw me she stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips. “You’re late,” she said.

I glanced at my watch. “Your flight was early. Which bag is yours?”

She turned and pointed at a large blue suitcase when it dropped down the chute. I moved around her and squeezed through the crowd, but when I reached for it I missed. I waited until it made its way around the turntable, grabbed the case and carried it over to where my mother stood waiting.

“Did you see the body?” she asked.

“I saw a picture. It’s Nick all right.”

Up close I could see the stress in her face. I knew she had loved Nick in her own way, but she was the strongest woman I knew, so I was surprised when she started crying.

“I was hoping it wasn’t him. I mean I haven’t heard from him in two days so I knew, but I didn’t want to admit it.” She looked up. “After you left we spent a lot of time talking. He was going to move back into the house after this case. We were even talking about getting married. Nick was going to stop and see you before he flew back to Detroit and let you know about it.”

“I’m sorry.” I was racked with guilt, and fighting to hold back my own tears. I draped my arm around her shoulders, and she laid her head against my chest and wept, harder than I’d ever seen her cry before. I hated being a detective and I knew I could never go back to work for the firm, but I couldn’t avoid feeling I’d let her down.

People walked by and stared at us, whispering to each other while they moved along through the corridor. I knew my mother would not let her guard down for long, but I held her until she pulled away from me. She looked around the concourse, straightened her shoulders, and pulled a tissue from her purse. “Let’s go. I don’t need to stand here making a spectacle of myself.” She grabbed my arm and led me toward the exit. “I’m staying at the Pier House Resort. You can take me there and I’ll clean up a little before we go out for dinner. Why don’t we eat at that little bar where you work? I’d like to see the place.”

Dirty Alvin’s would have been my last choice for dinner with my mother, but I wasn’t up to arguing the point with her. I shook my head no, but she refused to look at me so I grunted my assent and led the way out to where I had parked the van. I set her suitcase down, unlocked the passenger door, and stood aside to let my mother in. That’s when I realized she had stopped several feet away from me.

“You don’t expect me to drive around Key West in a delivery van, do you?”

“It’s what I drive, Mother.”

“What happened to that cute little convertible you used to drive back in Detroit?”

“I needed more space,” I said. “Are you coming or not?”

“That would be a not.” She turned and started back across the lot. “Leave the van here and I’ll rent a decent car.”

“Mother, I can’t leave it here, I don’t want someone breaking in and stealing my belongings.” My mother pretended not to hear me, and strutted away from my van. I was pissed and started to climb into the van anyway, thinking I’d drive away and let her fend for herself. I couldn’t do it. Instead, I slid out, slammed the door shut, picked up her bag, and trailed after her.

I waited while my mother changed into a pair of jeans and a frilly white top. As we walked along Duval I filled her in on my search for Destiny. She didn’t say anything for the entire six block walk from her hotel to the bar. I wondered if she was feeling bad about Nick, or trying to come up with a way to get me to come back to work for her. Knowing my mother’s ability to multi-task, I suspected it was a little of both.

It was nearly eight by the time we got to Alvin’s, and it was packed, even more so than usual for a Saturday night. I figured the word about Billy’s death was out and the curious and the ghoulish were gathering. I introduced my mother to Tanya and Marissa, and then we moved to the far end of the room when a young couple stood and vacated one of the tables.

My mother took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse, and when I reminded her she couldn’t smoke inside, she ran her tongue along her upper lip and gave me an agitated look. I ignored her, stood, and walked over to the bar. I waited for Tanya to finish with her customer, ordered a Miller Lite for myself, a glass of Merlot for my mother, and at the same time ordered a couple of burgers with onion rings.

When I returned to the table, my mother was scanning the room. I knew she was registering everyone and everything in her mind for future reference. She appeared amused by the crowd, and when her gaze settled on Tanya she said, “She’s quite attractive for a black woman.”

“Her father was white,” I said.

“Still makes her black.”

I shrugged. “I guess so. And yes, she’s very attractive.”

“I wondered what would keep you tending bar in a place like this. I should have known it was a woman.”