Alden grunted. “True love.”
“Hardly. Misguided infatuation, more like.” Roz reached A1A and turned left.
“Where does she live?” Alden asked.
“Off Lighthouse Road.”
“Fancy.”
“Not one of the waterfront places. In one of the neighborhoods behind it that backs up to the wildlife preserve.” Roz enjoyed the brief elation of soaring over the Star Inlet bridge, marveling at the late afternoon sunlight twinkling on the water. The sky’s blue had softened, and the clouds held a hint of peach.
They turned at the next light toward the lighthouse at Stargazer Point, past the grand houses that faced the inlet here, most of them with large boats and larger docks. Roz caught a glimpse of the lighthouse and the sea as they turned south again, then navigated a less exalted neighborhood before parking in front of Sheryl Pugh’s house.
It was definitely nice, though not at McMansion scale. It had that modern Florida look, one story but with a taller peaked roof that suggested high ceilings inside. The outside was a pale peach stucco, and the yard was generous.
That’s where the place stood out. The landscaping took Roz’s breath away: various trees and flowering bushes, crepe myrtle, beds of native wildflowers, and a grapefruit tree laden with big yellow globes, all prettily arranged. A rustic path of flat stones meandered through the half acre.
Sheryl was pruning some rose bushes near her front door, wearing a wide white hat and bright green gardening gloves. She stood as they got out of the car and walked up the twisty walkway.
“Roz! Alden? What are you doing here?” Sheryl smiled and dusted at her faded McKee Gardens T-shirt. “Forgive my mess.”
“No one expects you to dress up for gardening,” Roz said, keeping an eye on the wicked-looking pruners in Sheryl’s hand. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
Sheryl sighed. “Is it about Wayne again?”
“I’m afraid so,” Alden said. He also eyed the pruners as Sheryl tucked them into her gardening belt.
“Why don’t we go around back?” Sheryl beckoned, and they followed her around the house and into a lovely backyard. There were islands of plantings and more open grass back here. No swimming pool, always remarkable in a lot of this size in Florida. A couple of big oaks shaded a weathered brick patio dotted with a few simple metal chairs, an empty fire bowl, a couple of small round tables and a freestanding two-person wooden swing.
Sheryl took off her tool belt and set it on a table. She glanced at the swing as they each took a chair. “Wayne and I used to sit in that and enjoy the evenings out here.”
“You really miss him?” Roz asked.
Sheryl shrugged. “I do. I’ve thought about what you said. What you suggested about him. That he might not have been working that hard on making my movie. I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. But we still had special times, you know?”
Roz gave her a skeptical look. “You’re not upset about him taking your money?”
“If that’s what he did, it’s what he did. It’s water under the bridge now, and I’m not getting it back. And I certainly learned some things.”
She sure did, Roz thought. Painful lessons.
Alden asked the next question. “Did you feel like it was your job to help him make the movie studio a reality?”
Sheryl gave him a puzzled look. “No. He said I was the talent, like other writers he was talking to. He said he learned the hard way that writing was not where his talent lay, so he dedicated himself to bringing great stories to the screen. Building a movie studio is definitely not my department. Why do you ask?”
“Did he tell you about the deal he had with Sebastian Esquivel?”
“The developer? Nicole’s husband? No. What deal?”
“You didn’t know Sebastian was Wayne’s partner in the movie studio?” Roz asked.
Sheryl took off her hat and turned it around in her hands. Nerves? “I knew they were friendly. Wayne mentioned they were friends one day when he took me to the airport and showed me around so I could get some good details for my script. He showed me a couple of planes he said belonged to Sebastian Esquivel and a mechanic who works out there. I didn’t meet either one of them, though. He showed me Blake Burbage’s plane, too. Did you know he and Blake were friends? He knew all the stars.” Sheryl’s eyes shone with memories.
But she still hadn’t implicated herself in the plane crash. If anything, she seemed oblivious, and Roz didn’t think Sheryl was that good of an actor.
“Did you find out what you needed to crash the airplane in your script?” Alden asked.
Sheryl’s eyes widened. “How did you know about that? Had Wayne told you? He was so helpful. But I didn’t get what I needed at the airport. I ended up figuring it out online. The bad guy blocks an air filter in a small plane where no one can see it. Apparently, that’ll do it. Oh, my God! You just crashed in a plane, didn’t you?” She looked from Roz to Alden and back. And fortunately ignored her tool belt with the sharp gardening implements. “Is that why you’re asking? Was the plane—oh no. It wasn’t sabotaged, was it?”
