Liam nodded, and let his head fall to the desk.
David left then, deciding to walk home and see what was going on. There were throngs on the sidewalks everywhere. Music blared from the clubs. He passed the giant effigy of Robert the Doll. It appeared to be anchored at the feet by a large weight, covered by plastic.
A woman walked by him, snorting. “It smells almost as bad as Bourbon Street!” she told her companions.
It did smell, David thought. He paused for a moment. It wasn’t bad booze, it wasn’t vomit. There was something dead somewhere. The Keys weren’t immune to rats, and Lord knew, there were roosters everywhere. He couldn’t pinpoint the odor; there was too much perfume in the air, too much smoke from the fellows hanging outside with cigars, and too much alcohol. Someone had just broken a bottle of bourbon somewhere nearby.
He kept walking. He was outside O’Hara’s when he suddenly heard shouting. Frowning, even though he knew Katie wasn’t working, he felt his heart pound. He rushed in. Clarinda was there; she had just jumped back from a table because the two men who had been seated at it were now standing.
“Fellows, you’re going to have to sit, calm down or take it outside or I will call the police!” Clarinda said.
They didn’t hear her.
One of the men was Mike Sanderson.
The other was Sam Barnard.
“Hey!” David said with deep authority.
The busboys were backing up. Jon Merrillo was coming around the bar nervously.
“Hey, you heard Clarinda,” David said.
Sam looked at him, and shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, but screw this!” he said. And he turned on Mike Sanderson with a wicked right hook.
David dove in, shouting for Clarinda to call the police. He tackled Sam Barnard down while Mike Sanderson made it back to his feet. Sanderson then tried to punch Barnard, but all he managed to do was fall on the man’s abdomen.
They were both drunk as skunks.
David dragged Sam from beneath Mike, and by then, uniformed cops were spilling in. They dragged up both men, and assured them both they could discuss it all at the station. Clarinda turned to David, thanking him.
“That might have gotten really ugly,” she said.
Jon had joined her by then. “Oh, man, they’re both huge. They could have really torn this place to pieces.”
“I don’t think so-they’re drunk. They’d have passed out before they’d gotten too many hits in.”
“Well, thanks. Can I get you anything on the house?” Jon asked him.
“Sure. Actually, doesn’t need to be on the house. What didn’t we eat last night? I’ll take three of anything different to go,” David said.
“You got it,” Jon told him.
Jon headed to the kitchen. He helped Clarinda right the chairs that had fallen. The other customers seemed disappointed that the show was over. They had turned back to their own conversations.
“Well, I guess it’s good in a way,” Clarinda said.
“What’s good?”
“That those two got into a fight. That means that they’ll be locked up for the night, and no one will have to be afraid of them.”
“Afraid-of Mike Sanderson or Sam Barnard?”
“Let’s face it, Mike Sanderson seems a little whacko. He’s spent years-with no one knowing it-dressing up like Robert the Doll. And Barnard…well, he was Tanya’s brother. He might be out for some kind of revenge, or God knows, he’s here, and there’s another murder…who knows? Maybe he secretly hated his sister. Maybe he strangled her in a rage. Stranger, more bizarre things have happened in Key West.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got to get back to work. Thank you, David.”
Then she made a face. “Fantasy Fest.”
“Hey, it can be great.”
“So you say-that’s because guys love to see women with nothing but paint on their breasts.”
“Ouch!” He grinned at her. “Okay, so women see male chests all the time. Sadly, that means the thrill is gone.”
Clarinda laughed. “I repeat-” She made a face. “Fantasy Fest!”
He went to the bar to pay for the food, but Jon wouldn’t let him. He thanked him, took his to-go bags and headed back out.
He paused. So many sounds and scents in the air.
And yet…
Underlying it all…
There was the scent of death.
The knock on the door startled Katie.
She had left the kitchen to curl up on the sofa, the Beckett family book in her hands. Bartholomew was seated on the curve at her back.
“It’s just Beckett,” Bartholomew said.
She didn’t have to get up to answer the door; Sean got it.
“Cool. Dinner. I was thinking I’d have to start cooking, since Katie has had her nose in that book all day.”
Katie rose slowly, stretching. She saw David and smiled. “It’s shepherd’s pie from O’Hara’s, right?”
“Good nose,” he said.
“Oh, Katie has amazing senses,” Sean said dryly. “Set her all down in the dining room. I’ll get plates and utensils.”