Suspicion of Madness by Barbara Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

hours?
    A shower helped. Putting on his suit jacket, he walked over to the bed. "Gail. Wake up, sweetheart." Her eyelids fluttered. "Do you remember what I asked you to do this morning? Gail?" He straightened his cuffs.
    "Yes, general." Still tangled in the sheets, she saluted. "Leave a message with Joan Sinclair to call you."
    "Good. I hope to be back before noon."
    He kissed her and was out the door and down the steps to the white sand path that wound toward the main building. She would not be sleeping for long. The carpenters had arrived, and the yowl of power saws and pounding of hammers came from the unfinished cottages nearby.
    In the hotel kitchen, the cook gave him a freshly baked cinnamon roll and juice. Lois Greenwald was finishing her coffee, waiting for him. It took a moment to recognize her. She had lost weight, too much of it. Before, her hair had been short and brown; now it was frosted and tied back in a ponytail. She wore lipstick and mascara. He wondered if this meant she had found a man. Or perhaps not. Her shapeless black linen dress reached nearly to her bony ankles.
    "You don't mind eating that on the way, do you?" She picked up a straw purse and an overnight bag from the large wooden table and headed for the screen door. She pushed through, and Anthony caught it before it could bang shut.
    He followed at a quick pace to the harbor, from where she would ferry him to a marina near the hospital in Tavernier. Half a dozen boats were tied to the L-shaped wooden dock. Lois stepped into a runabout with a blue canvas top and tossed the overnight bag onto one of the seats. The bag contained a fresh set of clothing to be delivered to Billy Fadden. Lois went to untie the docking lines.
    Facing north, Anthony could see the low-lying profile of Upper and Lower Matecumbe and Plantation Keys. The sea glittered in the early light. He suddenly remembered the courthouse in Tavernier. The marriage license.
    "Ay, Dios." They would have to apply for a license today, Wednesday, to be married before they went home. What had they been thinking? Of course he wanted to marry Gail, he loved her with his soul, but to bring her back as Senora Quintana and leave her at her mother's house? It would look ridiculous. The entire idea was insane.
    "Mr. Quintana."
    He turned around. Lois Greenwald had put on a white ball cap with a Buttonwood Inn logo. Her ponytail stuck out the back. "Ms. Connor must have told you we talked last night. I thought she was your law partner. Sorry about that." A shadow cut across Lois's sharp nose. "I wanted to know what's going on with Billy, if they have any evidence besides his confession."
    "Not to my knowledge. And I wouldn't call it a confession."
    "Statement, then. Whatever. The problem is, the police think he did it, and God knows what they're going to find on Billy if they look hard enough. They can arrest people on pretty slim evidence, isn't that so?"
    Anthony finished his juice and tossed the cup at a metal trash basket bolted to a piling. "It happens."
    "Is there a chance this is going to get complicated?"
    "There is always a chance." He unwrapped the napkin from around his cinnamon roll. He pulled off a piece, avoiding the raisins. It was still warm.
    Lois asked, "How soon can you get it taken care of?"
    "By the weekend, I hope, but one can never be sure. Mmm, this is delicious."
    Her bright pink lips pressed together for a moment, nearly disappearing entirely, before she said, "Look. I'm going to be real up-front with you. Don't expect the fees you got last time. We can't do it. We've put everything into remodeling the resort, including our names on the dotted line at the bank. If tourism is still down this year, we're screwed. You're already getting deluxe accommodations and meals for yourself and Ms. Connor, and that's worth a thousand dollars a day, in season. Now you're bringing that psychiatrist back down here for Billy. Martin told me about it this morning. Is that really necessary? Does