A False Dawn

FORTY-SEVEN

I had agreed to meet Leslie at the tiki bar for coffee at 8:00 a.m. By 8:30, I was half way through my second cup, and no Leslie. I tried her cell. After four rings it went to voice-mail. There was no need to leave a message. She knew I was waiting for her, but she didn’t know I was worrying for her.

I sat at the bar, sipped coffee, and checked my watch every five minutes. A morning newspaper was on the corner of the bar. I shook the bits of toast off it and opened the pages. I stopped reading, folded the paper, and slid it down the bar.

Kim looked up from slicing lemons. “No good news, eh?”

“I stopped reading newspapers after I left Miami. I should know better by now.”

“I get most of my news online. More coffee?”

“Thanks.”

“You okay? I don’t mean to pry, but I know there’s been a lot of stuff happening. It’s a small marina. Word gets around. You’re a suspect, or as the papers have it, ‘person of interest’ in a killing. And you’re trying to find the killer.”

“Thought you didn’t read the papers?” I drank coffee, glancing at the parking lot.

“I happened to see your picture in there after they found that poor girl. I’m sorry. I think you’re a hell of a nice guy, and you’re getting the short end of the stick. The lady cop knows it. She likes you, Sean.”

“It’s her job to like people. To at least care about them and try to help them.”

“But she likes you beyond that. A woman can see it in another woman.”

I saw Big John rounding the corner of the restaurant and entering the bar like a cowboy coming off a cattle drive looking for something to wash the dust out of his throat. He said, “Morning, Kimberly…morning Sean. Gonna be a hot one today.”

Big John was already starting to sweat. He wiped his wide forehead with a bar napkin. Kim took his order and stepped over to the window to give it to Sam.

A charter boat captain I recognized came in and took a seat at the bar. He ordered a bloody Mary and dry wheat toast. I was glad for the interruption.

Leslie was getting out of her car. Even from the distance, I could tell she was exhausted. She approached, non-smiling.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said.

“Want some coffee?” I asked. “Maybe we can sit at a table.”

“Can we get the coffee to go?”

Kim overheard and said, “How would you like it?”

“Black, please.”

“Make it two,” I said.

Kim poured the coffee in two large Styrofoam cups. “On the house.”

“Thanks.” I handed one cup to Leslie.

She took it and turned to leave. I followed, and at the large open breezeway I asked, “You okay?”

“We have to go somewhere we can talk.” Her eyes were red and tired. “This is getting much deeper, Sean. And I’m starting to get really scared.”