Key West by Stella Cameron Read Free Book Online Page B

much care why. She also wouldn’t discuss her problems with Roy again. The idea of Chris Talon being coerced into helping her made her ill.
    “Chris hasn’t had an easy time of it. But he wouldn’t appreciate my mouthing off about his personal stuff.”
    “He didn’t mind mouthing off about mine to you.” Her tongue could be too quick, and too undisciplined.
    “All he said was that you’re stretched too thin. And he doesn’t think you’re well enough to cope—physically well enough. These doors are all shut. Sοnnie. Were they shut when you left the house last night?”
    Talon thought she wasn’t physically fit? She wasn’t, but how would he know? Α limp, sometimes with both legs, and a few visible scars didn’t mean you were an invalid.
    “Were they shut, Sonnie?”
    She held a banister to steady herself. “They were shut when I was last up here.” She took a breath and admitted, “I’ve been sleeping on a pullout sofa in the parlor. I do need to get properly moved in.”
    Their eyes met, but Roy was too diplomatic to comment. “So the doors couldn’t…Well, they probably couldn’t have slammed shut, could they?”
    “No.”
    She and Roy looked at each other again and didn’t have to say that they both wondered how a door could slam if it hadn’t been opened by someone.
    “You felt someone in the house?”
    Talon again. “Stupid, I know. Just that weird sensation. I’m too touchy.”
    “You’ve been through a lot. The accident. The recovery had to be hard. Then finding out your husband had been grabbed like that.”
    She took a moment too long to say “Yes,” and knew by the quizzical expression in Roy’s eyes that he had noted the hesitation. “What else did your brother say? About my stupid visit? And about what he found out on his wonderful computer?”
    “He didn’t say your visit was stupid. He only said you needed a place to stay for the night.”
    “But he told you about my accident, and—”
    “This isn’t such a big place. I didn’t need Chris to tell me your history. Your husband is a celebrity. That makes you a celebrity. The whole island talked about your accident and how you were airlifted to Miami. Then there was the story about what had happened to Frank Giacano. A lot of stuff gets talked about in a bar. Liquor does that.”
    “I guess it does.” Sonnie regarded him somberly. “I didn’t…I didn’t think people would remember anything about me. I suppose there are lots of theories about Frank.”
    “Open the flowers.”
    In other words, there were a lot of theories about the Giacanos. Sonnie untied a green ribbon from the shiny white box and slid off the lid. The heavy scent of white calla lilies swelled forth. Sonnie hadn’t eaten and the aroma sickened her.
    “Hmm,” was Roy’s reaction.
    She picked up the enclosed envelope and opened it. Typed on the card inside was: Lilies, as velvet white as a baby’s skin-as white as the satin in her only bed. Take care, Sonnie. She bowed over the box and struggled to catch her breath. “Your favorite flowers?” said Roy.
    She shook her head. “I hate them.” White satin in her only bed. Jacqueline’s tiny casket. Who would do this? Who hated Sonnie enough to torture her—and why?
    “Υοu’d better let your admirer know you don’t like them,” Roy said, and laughed self-consciously. They both knew he wondered who had sent the bouquet.
    “The card isn’t signed.”
    He settled his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and frowned. “Florist must have left the name off. Call and ask ‘em to check.”
    “I will,” Sonnie said. “Later.” She crammed the lid back onto the box and quelled an impulse to throw the whole thing in the garbage. The horribly obvious message terrified her.
    Roy proceeded to open the nearest door and walk into a bedroom draped with sheets. Sonnie looked past him at blue-flowered paper above white wainscoting, and sheer white draperies closed over French doors with a clear