that filled the rest of two columns. Then I returned to the start and read each line carefully. My name leaped out as the finder of the body in the first two paragraphs, then the rest of the article gave a partial bio of Margaux’s life in Greece, Key West, and New York City. The article left the murder/suicide question unresolved. Nor did it mention the gun found in her hand being registered in my name.
“Article bring you more business,” Gram said. “Tourists come to peek at you. Be good advertising.”
“Gram! Get real! A woman lies dead, a woman important to this island. It’s no time to think of business and advertising. Whether or not people liked her, Margaux Ashford ranked as a community leader?”
“She a bitch.” Gram shrugged. “Good riddance. One other person agree.”
“Who?” I stepped toward her. Did she have information I wasn’t aware of?
“The person who shoot her. That person agree with me.”
I sighed as I scanned the article again. The police had mentioned the possibility of suicide although no suicide note had yet been found. Did the police think Margaux stole my gun and then shot herself with it? Fat chance. The paper also mentioned the possibility of homicide, saying the case was still under investigation. I snapped on my desk radio and tuned to the local station so I’d be sure to hear any further announcements concerning the Ashford death. As I cleared my throat, I beckoned Gram to come closer.
“Gram, the Ashfords and I think someone murdered Margaux. We’re going to do some investigating on our own to see if we can find the killer in case the police try to say suicide.”
“Why you care? Why you try investigate?” Gram scowled and shook her finger at me. “Stay out of this, Keely. Bad business. Distance yourself.”
“I can’t stay out of it. Can’t you see I’m already in it? I need to find the killer in order to protect myself. Punt and Jass will be investigating, too, and I hope you’ll be willing to help us. You want the guilty person found and brought to justice, don’t you?”
“Me help?” Gram gave a palms-up gesture. “Know nothing about this death. No way can help.”
“Of course there’s a way. An important way. You can listen. You’re a sponge when it comes to listening.”
“No like being called a sponge.”
“Tap into the conversations of the people who drop into your shop for coffee. Listen to common street talk and tell us what people are saying about Margaux’s death.”
“Me think some say good riddance.”
“Some people might discuss where they were last Saturday night when the shooting happened or perhaps where their friends were. If you hear anything that sounds the least bit important, tell me. If I’m not around, call Jass or Punt. Promise me that.”
“Okay. Promise.”
“Jass, Punt, and I have a list of suspects.” I gave her the names, omitting Nikko and Jude. Gram would tend to protect Nikko because he’s our good friend, and knowing Jude might be involved would scare her to death. I didn’t want her to think I lived in danger from Jude—again.
“Here come your first appointment. Bottle blonde.” Gram nodded toward the door and slipped outside without speaking to Shandy as Shandy entered my office.
Shandy frequently comes to me for a reflexology treatment, saying the treatments relieve her headaches. I often remind her that foot reflexology sometimes relieves only the symptoms, rather than the cause.
Gram’s right. Shandy bleaches her hair, but in Key West bleached hair isn’t worth a comment. It fits in with the patina of the island. It blends with the beach sand, and it goes well with the pink hibiscus blossom Shandy wears tucked behind her left ear. The hibiscus’s a holdover from her job where the manager orders all waitresses to wear pink blossoms to match The Wharf’sdecor.
“Good morning, Shandy. Great day, right?”
Shandy ducked her head in that shy way she had, and she spoke in a whispery
“Article bring you more business,” Gram said. “Tourists come to peek at you. Be good advertising.”
“Gram! Get real! A woman lies dead, a woman important to this island. It’s no time to think of business and advertising. Whether or not people liked her, Margaux Ashford ranked as a community leader?”
“She a bitch.” Gram shrugged. “Good riddance. One other person agree.”
“Who?” I stepped toward her. Did she have information I wasn’t aware of?
“The person who shoot her. That person agree with me.”
I sighed as I scanned the article again. The police had mentioned the possibility of suicide although no suicide note had yet been found. Did the police think Margaux stole my gun and then shot herself with it? Fat chance. The paper also mentioned the possibility of homicide, saying the case was still under investigation. I snapped on my desk radio and tuned to the local station so I’d be sure to hear any further announcements concerning the Ashford death. As I cleared my throat, I beckoned Gram to come closer.
“Gram, the Ashfords and I think someone murdered Margaux. We’re going to do some investigating on our own to see if we can find the killer in case the police try to say suicide.”
“Why you care? Why you try investigate?” Gram scowled and shook her finger at me. “Stay out of this, Keely. Bad business. Distance yourself.”
“I can’t stay out of it. Can’t you see I’m already in it? I need to find the killer in order to protect myself. Punt and Jass will be investigating, too, and I hope you’ll be willing to help us. You want the guilty person found and brought to justice, don’t you?”
“Me help?” Gram gave a palms-up gesture. “Know nothing about this death. No way can help.”
“Of course there’s a way. An important way. You can listen. You’re a sponge when it comes to listening.”
“No like being called a sponge.”
“Tap into the conversations of the people who drop into your shop for coffee. Listen to common street talk and tell us what people are saying about Margaux’s death.”
“Me think some say good riddance.”
“Some people might discuss where they were last Saturday night when the shooting happened or perhaps where their friends were. If you hear anything that sounds the least bit important, tell me. If I’m not around, call Jass or Punt. Promise me that.”
“Okay. Promise.”
“Jass, Punt, and I have a list of suspects.” I gave her the names, omitting Nikko and Jude. Gram would tend to protect Nikko because he’s our good friend, and knowing Jude might be involved would scare her to death. I didn’t want her to think I lived in danger from Jude—again.
“Here come your first appointment. Bottle blonde.” Gram nodded toward the door and slipped outside without speaking to Shandy as Shandy entered my office.
Shandy frequently comes to me for a reflexology treatment, saying the treatments relieve her headaches. I often remind her that foot reflexology sometimes relieves only the symptoms, rather than the cause.
Gram’s right. Shandy bleaches her hair, but in Key West bleached hair isn’t worth a comment. It fits in with the patina of the island. It blends with the beach sand, and it goes well with the pink hibiscus blossom Shandy wears tucked behind her left ear. The hibiscus’s a holdover from her job where the manager orders all waitresses to wear pink blossoms to match The Wharf’sdecor.
“Good morning, Shandy. Great day, right?”
Shandy ducked her head in that shy way she had, and she spoke in a whispery
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