“She should have come in to sing,” Katie said. “Do you know who…was she fighting with anyone? Do you know where she’d been?”
“She picked up a kid the night before… Well, they say she died Sunday afternoon sometime. Yeah, she was with a kid. I might recognize him if I saw him again. But…he was young. He didn’t look like a killer. Then again, that’s what they always tell us-God alone knows what a killer looks like. Oh, Lord-she was murdered!” the woman said, and huge tears formed in her eyes again.
“Hey, hey,” Katie murmured. She didn’t try to tell the woman that everything was all right-murder wasn’t all right. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Morgana,” the woman said.
“Um-is that your real name?” Katie asked.
The woman managed a smile. “Yeah, it’s my real name, not my stripper’s pseudonym. My mom was a big fan of the King Arthur tales and fantasy.”
“It’s a pretty name,” Katie told her. “Just unusual, even today. Umm, did Stella see anyone regularly?” Katie asked.
“Anyone?” Morgana asked. She blushed and looked away. “Lots of anyones. Stella said that these days, people came to bars-men and women-just to hook up for the night. She was smarter. You could get paid for sex, and why the hell not?”
“I meant like…like, almost a boyfriend, maybe?”
The woman sat up and stared across the street. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes.”
“Yes-who?”
The girl pointed.
Katie followed her line of vision.
She was pointing at Danny Zigler.
The museum was closed for the day, but as the afternoon rolled in, reporters announced on radio and television that it would be reopened the following day.
Fantasy Fest was coming.
Key West might have once been one of the wealthiest cities in the United States, but the days of privateers, wreckers and sponge divers were long gone.
The city survived on tourism, cruise ships and snowbirds longing for the sun. Fantasy Fest drew people from around the globe, and it was one of the many local festivals that kept the local shopkeepers, innkeepers and restaurant owners and workers in business. The fest went beyond just the obvious; the business surging down the Keys kept construction workers, charter captains, meter readers, housekeepers, antiques dealers and jacks-of-all-trades surviving, as well.
David made a point of staying on Duval Street during the day. He spoke with any reporter who approached him.
Katie was glad to see that he intended to keep himself in the public eye.
She was somewhat annoyed because she couldn’t seem to get a minute to talk to him alone.
It was late when the news of the spectacular murder gave way at last to interviews about the upcoming festival days. David had made himself so available that by nightfall, he had spoken to just about every reporter who had rushed down to the city.
Morgana had disappeared by then. But as David slipped his arm through hers, suggesting that they pick up food somewhere and head back to her house or the Beckett home to eat in peace, Katie managed to tell him that she had talked to the woman, and that Morgana had told her that Stella Martin had carried on a somewhat long-term relationship with Danny Zigler.
He listened to her gravely, and then said that they should head to her place. Along the way, they picked up a few to-go meals from the Hog’s Breath Saloon. They headed to Katie’s.
Bartholomew was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Katie hadn’t seen him all afternoon.
They set up their meal on Katie’s dining-room table. “I know you’ve already been talking to Danny,” Katie said. She shook her head while chewing a piece of chicken. “But…I…Danny is kind of a skinny little guy. And we’ve known him forever.”
“Hey, women have lived with serial killers for years and not known what their husbands or boyfriends did at night,” David reminded her.
“Okay-but you seem to think that whoever killed Tanya had an agenda. So maybe he’s not your usual serial killer,” Katie pointed out. She shook her head. “But Danny! I can’t believe it, and yet…Morgana did say that Stella Martin saw him…regularly.”
“As a customer?”
“More like a boyfriend. That’s what I asked her-if Stella saw anybody more like a boyfriend,” Katie told him.
“That doesn’t necessarily make him a killer,” David said.
“Do you think that they’ll get anything from forensics?” Katie asked.
“I don’t know,” David said. He finished off his last bite of chicken and stood, slipping his hand into the pocket of his short-sleeved tailored shirt. “You have a computer here?”
“Sure-what’s that?”
“I’m going to study the photographs I have of the murder scene.”
“In the back,” Katie said, rising, as well. “In the family room.”
David nodded and walked on through. He hit the power button and waited for the computer to boot up, then slid in the small memory stick he held.
He looked at Katie. “You may not want to see these.”