“Maybe redfish? I’m not sure,” Valentina said. “You mentioned you might know who did this? Tell me if I’m being as nosy as my daughter, but is it someone I might know? If so, maybe I can . . . I don’t know, tell them off.” She gave a half laugh. “Not much help, I know.”
“He drives a taxi in Fort Charlotte. I ran into him my first morning at the hotel, then bumped into him again at Mel’s Diner and the Daily Grind. I couldn’t tell you why, but he has it in for me. He’s disgusting, so I’m sure you wouldn’t know him.”
“Are you kidding? Everyone knows Tank. He drives a cab most of the time when he’s not working on a shrimp boat. He’s a piece of work. He lives with his mom, I think. Smelly and the size of a broomstick. Everyone around the Pass has a story about him. Personally, I think he might be a little slow, but who am I to judge? He was able to get a driver’s license, so I guess he can read traffic signs.” Valentina grinned.
“That definitely sounds like the man I met.” She sprayed the inside of the freezer again. I’ll take care of those guts once the power is turned on. It shouldn’t be too late—at least that’s what the clerk at the power company told me. You don’t have to hang around here. It’s hot and smelly.”
“I don’t care. I’m enjoying myself. Are we still on for dinner? I haven’t had a good neighbor in forever, let alone one who invites me to dinner. Most folks are renters; they come and go. Of course, there’s John, but I stay away from him. You should too. I know I told you this, but seriously, he scares me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was involved with those bones they found a few years ago.”
“Absolutely, I didn’t forget about dinner or John! Though I hope he isn’t responsible for burying that bone I found earlier. Do you really think he was involved in any way? I’d hate to think I’m buying a home where someone was killed.”
Valentina’s words were laced with bitterness. “There are reasons I don’t want my daughter around him, though I couldn’t say for sure he was involved. If he was, his family would step in, pay off whomever, then he’d be right back where he is now.”
Briefly, Ali wondered if her new friend had been personally attacked by John. “He sounds like bad news.”
“Speaking of bad news, did you have some kind of altercation with Tank?” Valentina asked. “Not my business, I know.”
“At the Courtesy Court, Tank picked me up when I was walking. Long story not worth repeating. I think he’s got some sick fixation on me.”
“That sounds like him,” Valentina said. “His mother is strange, too. That place has been shut down so many times by the health department, I’ve lost count. It’s always in the back of the paper.”
Ali thought maybe Valentina mistaken. “The place was immaculate. At least my room was. Very modern, too.”
“Let me guess—you were in room number two?”
“How did you know? Did you use your gift?” Ali asked.
“Nope, just a known fact. When you’re here long enough, you’ll learn no one around the island can keep a secret. North Fort Charlotte, too. That motel’s in a bad part of town.”
It had seemed decent enough to Ali. She didn’t remember seeing anything out of place—no homeless folks living under trees or on the side of the road, no crackheads trying to rob her. “So what’s wrong with the other rooms? Are they being remodeled?”
Valentina looked away, a shadow dimming her blue eyes. “I don’t gossip. It causes too much trouble.”
“There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Ali prodded.
“Yes. There’s been talk about that motel for years, about strange happenings there. I didn’t want to say when we were talking to Kit earlier, but most folks on the island do think Betty is involved in a cult.” Valentina gave a half-laugh.
Stunned, Alison said, “You’re kidding? I’d find that hard to believe.” Then she remembered how sick she’d gotten her one night there. “Never mind—forget I said that.”
“No wonder Tank’s fixated on you. Maybe he thinks you’re on to them. Did you see anything, hear anyone? Maybe someone in distress, trying to ask for help?” Valentina’s words echoed Ali’s own fears.
“No, nothing like that.” Ali’s thoughts were all over the place. “Is Betty Tank’s mother?”
“Yes, I assumed you knew that. Sorry I didn’t elaborate,” Valentina added.
“Now I wish I would have called the police. If she’s involved in a cult, what’s her role? Do you think Tank is involved, too?”
“I don’t have an answer for that, though I wouldn’t put it past her, or him, given the reputation of that hotel. Do you think she might’ve laced your tea or the cookies with something?”
“Probably. The cookies were sickeningly sweet enough to mask a bad taste, say a crushed pill, and the tea had enough sugar to kill a diabetic. If I had to guess, I’d say she put something in the tea.” The more she thought about that night, the more convinced she was that Betty had doped her. “Kit implied he’s investigating a cult, in Estero, right? What I don’t get is why he needs to look around my property, besides the bone I found. How does that figure into the picture?”
Valentina glanced at the diamond watch on her wrist. “He knows more than he’s telling us, which is what a good reporter does. At least on the Columbo reruns I watch.” She looked at her watch again. “I need to check on Renée. She should be home by now.”
Ali nodded. “Yeah, I need to make that call to Miami. You still have his card?”
Valentina took Kit’s card out of her pocket and gave it to her. “Thanks,” Ali said, then stepped outside to give them both a few minutes of privacy.
Ali could smell the bag of fish guts on the porch. She walked around to the back of her house, then dialed the number on the card.
“Miami Journal; this is Carla. How may I direct your call?”
Surprised that such a large newspaper would actually have a human answering their phone rather than the usual mechanical message that’d become the norm, Ali took a couple seconds to respond. “I’d like to speak with Kit Moore,” she said.
“Yep, I’ll put you through to his voice mail.”
“Kit Moore here. I’m unavailable, so call my cell.”
The number he then recited was the same one he’d written on the card. So okay, the guy was legit. Relieved that he wasn’t a stalker or pretending to be someone else, she returned to the front porch. She once again saw the disgusting yellow bag of fish, so she grabbed it and quickly jogged down the well-worn path to the beach, checking to make sure there was no sign of John. No one as far as she could see. She tossed her shoes aside and walked toward the waves, stopping when the warm salty water hit her just below her knees. This was deep enough, she thought. Dumping the contents of the bag, she dunked it into the water to rinse it out. As soon as she finished, she grabbed her shoes and headed back to her house with the empty bag. Ali smiled. Her house. Finally, she’d achieved her dream, and it felt damn good just thinking the words in her head. She left the wet bag on the porch, brushed the sand off the bottoms of her feet, then slid her shoes back on.