She ignored the outstretched hand. “Yes.”
“Just come in, did you?”
“That’s right.”
“Couldn’t pick better weather.”
He was a chatty old bastard. So far, everyone she’d encountered down here was overly friendly and super chatty. Annoying. Her usual tendency would have been to blow him off, but since he seemed to be the self-appointed welcome committee here, maybe she should break her own rules.
“The weather’s pretty good,” she said. “Have you been coming here very long?”
“Oh yeah. Started coming down in the nineties, I guess, me and my wife, Sue. She passed, so now it’s just me. We don’t get a lot of new folks here at the Surf. All us regulars, we’ve been coming here for a real long time. I’m guessing you’re staying in the efficiency?”
“That’s right. How’d you know?”
“Like I said, I know everybody here, and we all always stay in the same place. Until somebody dies or quits coming. I figure you’re here because Harry Bronson had a heart attack. Him and the wife headed home Monday, which meant their unit was available. It’s one of the nicest ones here, got a great little patio with a Gulf view. Merwin, he thought he and Trudi would move over there, but Ava went and gave it to Letty. So she moved out of the efficiency, which meant that was vacant. See?”
Vikki tried not to act too eager. “Who’s Letty?”
“Oh, she’s the newcomer. Been here two, three weeks. Her and the little girl. Just showed up out of the blue, looking for a place tostay, so Ava moved her into the efficiency, even gave her a job working in the office.”
“Where’d she come from?” Vikki asked.
“I think maybe she said New Jersey? She’s all right. Mostly keeps to herself. But it caused kind of a stir, like I said, because it wasn’t really fair, Ava giving her that room when it should have been Merwin’s. I think Ava felt sorry for her, what with the little kid and everything.”
“I see.” Vikki nodded. “Well, nice to meet you. Guess I’ll go up to the room now.”
Thepizza at the joint from down the street, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, was half decent. Nice crisp crust, definitely homemade sauce. Who knew they had good pizza in Florida? She was eating a slice, sitting in the chair by the window, watching the happy hour under the palm tree. She figured the median age of the congregants at seventy-five. No sign of anyone who could be Letty Carnahan, or of the kid.
At seven thirty, her phone rang. She smiled and answered.
“Officer DeCurtis. Thanks for getting back to me.”
“Sorry for the delay. What’s this about?”
“A woman named Scarlett Carnahan. She calls herself Letty. Do you know her?”
There was an extended silence on the other end of the line. While she waited, Vikki picked a pepperoni off the last slice and nibbled at it.
“Why are you asking?”
“She’s a fugitive. Wanted for questioning in the murder of a woman in New York, and the abduction of her child. The victim was her own sister.”
Another long silence. “You flew down here from New York today and checked into my mother’s motel a couple hours ago, right?”
It was Vikki’s turn to be surprised. She didn’t much like the sensation.
“How’d you know that?”
“I make it my business to know who’s staying at the Murmuring Surf. Ever since the incident with Declan Rooney. Your message didn’t mention the fact that you were coming down here.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. So, when can we talk?”
“There’s a bar just down the beach from the Surf. Called the Ka-Tiki.”
“For real?” Vikki asked. “Is the bartender named Don Ho?”
“I can meet you there in an hour,” DeCurtis said. “I’m wearing a red Atlanta Braves T-shirt and blue board shorts. How will I know you?”
