The Butterfly Forest

SEVENTY-THREE

Despite her protests, I wouldn’t let Elizabeth stop by her house for clothes and toiletries. Instead, I took her to a woman’s clothing store and a CVS Pharmacy. Then we drove to Ponce Marina where Dave was just coming back from a walk with Max. He had her on a leash, perspiration popping from his forehead. I made the introductions, and Dave said, “Elizabeth, I’m very sorry for the loss of your daughter. I wish I could have known her.”

“Thank you.”

The captain of a half-day fishing boat blew his horn heading toward Ponce Inlet. Dave added, “Welcome to our humble floating community. Sean and Max are part-time residents, the rest of us vagabonds of the sea are all tied down with ropes but relatively unleashed from the semblance of corporate commitment.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I’ve never been on a boat much larger than a ski boat. I was on a cruise once, but I think the cruise marketing people call them ships.”

Dave nodded. “You’ll find Jupiter more comfortable than a ship with a thousand people on it, with the worst assigned to your dinner table each night. Frightening.”

I said, “Max will be your best pal anytime you eat anything on or off Jupiter.”

Elizabeth bent down. “Hello, Max. I hope you don’t mind me doing a sleepover for a few nights. Right now I could use a shower. Maybe we girls can stay up talking one night.” Max cocked her head and came about as close to a smile as I’d seen on her face, then looked toward the Tiki Bar sniffing the smells in the air.

With Max in the lead, the three of us walked down L dock to Jupiter. “So this is your home on the water,” Elizabeth said with a wide smile.

“Jupiter’s got a big shower in the main head and an extra large water heater. So take your time.” I led her inside Jupiter and acquainted her with the layout.

“It’s amazing how large the boat is once you’re in here.”

“Every square inch is used. I’ll put your things in the main cabin. The shower’s over there. I’ll be on the aft deck with Max when you’re done.”

A half hour later, Elizabeth opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the cockpit. She was dressed in white Capri pants, sandals with a heel, and an ice pink T-shirt. Her damp hair was combed back, her face now more relaxed in the marina light. She smiled. “Now, I feel in better shape to meet the rest of your neighbors.”

“Let’s make the rounds. C’mon, Max.”

We walked down the dock to Nick’s boat where he was cleaning the fish he’d caught, feeding scraps to three fat pelicans and Joe, the marina cat. Max uttered a growl. Nick said, “Hot dog, ol’ Joe will box your hound dog ears and stick you in a pelican’s pouch if you piss him off.”

“Nick,” I said, “this is Elizabeth Monroe. I told you she’d be staying on Jupiter for a few days. I appreciate you keeping a close eye out.”

Nick smiled. “No worries on L dock with me, Dave and about twenty other live-aboards. We’re close as a big, fat Greek family. Now you join our family.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.

He wiped his hands on a green towel, looked across the marina for a second, his eyes falling back to Elizabeth. “Sean told us about what happened… I say a prayer to God. The man who did this will be punished.”

Elizabeth nodded. I said, “Nick, maybe you can take Elizabeth around and introduce her to some of the residents.”

“I’d like that,” Elizabeth said. “Can we take Max along?”

Nick grinned. “Hot dog will take us. She’s got a lot of friends here.”

As they walked down the pier, I found Dave on his boat and said, “After I picked up Elizabeth from the hospital, I spotted a tail. Two guys in a Ford van. Couldn’t get a good look at their faces before I lost them. Thank you for making her feel at home and agreeing to help watch her.”

“We’ll watch her like a hawk. Which begs the question, where will you be?”

“Do you still have that .12 gauge shotgun on your boat?”

“Yes, Nick has a couple of pistols, too.”

“I’m going to trail Luke Palmer.”

“What?”

“But he won’t know it. And he’ll lead me to Frank Soto, or Izzy Gonzales or both. He’ll do it because I’m betting they’ll come for him.”

Dave looked at me, his left eyebrow rising, his eyes trapping the afternoon light off the bay. “You said earlier that you were betting on the Gonzales family making Palmer’s bond. Is this why you interrupted that live televised news conference? You wanted to play the Gonzales family hand?”

“I didn’t know about the Gonzales clan then.”

“Yes, but you suspected something much deeper than Palmer. When you were holding that composite sketch, like a matador waving his cape, you were enticing the bull to come from somewhere. And now you know the big bull is Izzy Gonzales’ uncle, Pablo.”

“Amazing how the pieces start to fall together.” I smiled.

“I know you’re not being cavalier. But now that the genie is out of the bottle, in this case, Pablo Gonzales, he might become the raging bull. You’re no longer waving your cape with the backup of a police squad behind you. Sean, you could be grasping an empty bottle to throw at him.”

“If I get close enough, a bottle will work fine.”

Dave scratched his three-day growth of whiskers. He shook his head. “I try not to ever underestimate you. I’m assuming you planned this because the local constables had reached a dead-end, and you saw no other path. However, I’m thinking that you knew, if you could get an ID on the composite, it would result in a lower bond for Luke Palmer. And if Palmer made bond, he’d be a moving target for someone.”

“He’s a target in or out of jail. On the outside is his best option because it can lead directly to the source.”

Dave watched Nick and Elizabeth at a distance, Nick introducing her to Martha and Bill Orbison, retired teachers living aboard a houseboat. “Elizabeth’s affable, or she’s trying very hard to be in spite of the death of Molly. Your relationship with her is catapulting you into an area where your own personal danger level will be off the charts. These drug cartels buy and sell people like cattle. Frank Soto’s a good example. If you rock their boat, they have ways of finding you.”

“Not unless I find them first.”

“So, I was right. All along you did think they’d make Palmer’s bond.”

“I thought someone connected to the murders would. And when it happens, we’ll see, the money will come from an anonymous source. It’s late. Bond will probably be made in the morning, but I’m calling the jail.” I put my cell on speakerphone, called information and asked to be connected to the Marion County Jail.

“Booking, Marion County,” said a woman through background noise.

“I’m checking on the status of a man being held in custody, Luke Palmer.”

She said, “He bonded out before my shift started.”

I thanked her and disconnected.

Dave said, “Somebody made it happen very fast. Maybe he caught a bus to California.”

“Or maybe he’s gone back into the forest.”