“Shapiro panicked and thought he could make it look like he’d been hung as punishment. To muddy the trail,” Bransford said.
“So he got me on the show because he thought I’d be a pushover,” I said, frowning.
The detective grinned. “Big mistake.”
“What about the shooting incident with Toby on Mallory Square?”
“He admitted to shooting at her,” Bransford said. “But only to scare her so she’d start really doubting herself. Not take a big stand against Higgs.”
“She’ll be relieved to hear it wasn’t her imagination,” I said.
The longer we talked, the more truly awkward I felt, with him two feet above me on the dock, looking uncomfortable. “Sure I can’t tempt you with a glass of wine or a beer?”
He shook his head, slid the sunglasses back on, even though it was too dark to need those tinted lenses.
“I wasn’t going to come by,” he said. “I’m not sure this is the right thing, but Torrence insisted I had to clear the air. He’s like the departmental shrink these days.” He wiped his lips with his hand. “First of all, Trudy’s decided to stay awhile. We need to figure out whether there’s anything left between us.”
“Fair enough,” I said, working to keep the tremble out of my words.
“Even if she wasn’t sticking around,” he added, “you’re ten years younger than I am. Sometimes that feels like an eon. And then it seems like I’d be dating one of my younger sister’s girlfriends.”
“And what else?” I asked, tapping my good foot furiously on the deck. “There’s not a damn thing I can do about my age. You’re only young once but you can be immature forever.”
He busted out laughing. “I do love that sense of humor. Trudy’s funny but she’s also more sensitive. I feel like you can take care of yourself, even with the boneheaded things you get yourself into. Like skidding that damn scooter across the construction area.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He grinned again, a lopsided smile that pushed into my belly. “Trudy needs me more. She needs me.” He tapped his chest with two fingers. “But I’d love to stay in touch.”
I thought of Lorenzo after my last tarot reading, then rose to my feet and puffed out a breath of air. And shook my head. “I don’t think that works too well from my perspective. How about you two figure out what you’re doing. If you decide to break things off, then we’ll talk. If you stick it out, I wish you well.”
I saluted him, then wheeled around and limped a retreat into the boat.
28
You bring your own weather to the picnic.
—Harlan Coben, Caught
I patted the chicken dry, daubed on dots of butter, and sprinkled the skin with coarse kosher salt and slivers of Miss Gloria’s fresh rosemary snipped from the big pot on the back deck. Then I slid the bird into the oven, followed by the pan of potatoes scalloped with leeks, cheddar cheese, and cream. Everything would be golden and bubbly about the time that Randy’s appearance on Emeril came on the tube. We knew he’d make us hungry and we were going to be prepared.
I put the bowl of slippery gizzards and other innards in the fridge, to use for my cat training session later. Since Trudy Bransford had made the decision to extend her stay in Key West and see if there were any live embers in her marriage, I had the feeling my social life would dribble down to a trickle. Filling my spare time watching cooking shows with my roommate and training cats would be better than nothing. Maybe.
I started working on mixing the chocolate cake, an easy recipe that had come from my mother’s mother. One bowl, one pan—but a recipe that produced heavenly, light warm chocolate cake that went perfectly with ice cream. Any flavor really. I set out a stick of butter to soften, then measured out cocoa, sugar, flour, baking soda, and salt.
Eric called just after I’d scraped the batter into a bundt pan. “If you have a minute, I wanted to give you an update on Turtle,” he said.
“I’d love that,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron and limping to the chair on the back deck.
“The psychiatrist over at the hospital managed to stabilize his medications, and now he’s agreed to move to the Florida Keys Outreach Coalition halfway house program,” Eric told me. “They’ll make sure he takes his meds. He’ll have a real bed to sleep in. And people who care where he is at night. He’ll attend AA meetings and they’ll help him look for work. And I’ll see him in outpatient therapy.”
My eyes filled with happy tears. “That’s honestly light years better than I could have imagined.”