Wolf frowned. “You think Chrissy and Winston stumbled in on a drug deal?”
Heaven knew men had killed for lesser perceived offenses, but he thought it highly unlikely the two guys in the warehouse would’ve resorted to homicide over a dime sack of blow.
“No.” Dixon shook his head. “I think Miss Szarek and Mr. Turner happened upon a couple of bastards retrieving a shipment. The Coast Guard did searches of all the boats entering the marina this afternoon, so the perps probably dropped their haul near the old dockside warehouse, figuring they could pick it up in the dark without anyone the wiser. Used to be, the traffickers flew their wares northward on non-commercial aircraft. But nowadays most of the powder makes its way to the mainland in pleasure boats and fishing boats.”
Chrissy grimaced. “They figured they could pick it up without anyone being the wiser and then Winston and I barged in like a couple of bumbling idiots.”
Dixon made a face. “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken a statement from someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That’s cold comfort,” she muttered.
Dixon shrugged and nodded before once again heading for the door.
A thought occurred to Wolf, and it was icy enough to chill him to the bone. “Hold up, Detective. Whatever those guys were up to made them feel like they needed to off any witnesses. What’s to stop ’em from tryin’ again once they find out they didn’t succeed the first time?”
“Way ahead of you.” Dixon hitched a chin toward the closed door. “I have one officer stationed outside here and another right next to Mr. Turner’s room. I’ll keep both witnesses covered until we catch the sonsofbitches who did this.” He winced and glanced at the two women in the room. “Excuse my language, ladies. My wife tells me I’m not fit for mixed company.”
Once Dixon had arrived, Mia and Romeo had taken up positions on the uncomfortable love seat pushed against the far wall, doing their best to stay out of the way while Chrissy answered the detective’s questions. To Wolf’s surprise, it was Mia who spoke up now.
“Don’t worry, Detective. These two—” she pointed to Romeo and Wolf “—were both in the Navy and have the mouths to match. You sound like a preacher by comparison.”
“Hey!” Romeo faked affront. “Neither of us are as bad as Mason.”
“True.” Mia grimaced. “Mason is from Boston and uses the F-word like it’s a comma.”
Wolf lifted an eyebrow. Did Mia make a joke?
“Thanks for your help,” Dixon told Chrissy. “Try to get some sleep. You’ve had one helluva night.”
When he opened the door, the room was immediately filled with a chorus of voices from outside.
“Whoa,” Dixon said as a crowd of people pushed into Chrissy’s room despite a uniformed police officer trying to block their path and a shift nurse hissing stridently, “It’s nearly midnight! I told y’all visiting hours are over!”
A middle-aged lady with spiky gray hair shook her finger at the officer’s nose. She was tanned like leather, and reminded Wolf of the kind of woman who should be holding a martini glass in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.
“Denny Parsons,” she scolded, “you know damned good and well you don’t have to protect the patient from us.” Then she turned to the shift nurse. “And don’t you sass me, Megan Foster. I’ll bend your ear like I did when you were seven and I caught you stealing Snickers bars in Judy’s store.”
The nurse, er Megan apparently, had the grace to look chagrined. “I didn’t understand how money worked, Miss Jill! I thought we could take whatever we wanted!”
Jill harrumphed and Dixon took that as the cue to make his escape. He muttered something to the uniformed officer and then disappeared into the hall.
With a put-upon sigh, Nurse Foster told the gathered group, “Fifteen minutes. That’s all you get,” before she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Jill rolled her eyes, muttering something about young people getting too big for their britches as she made her way over to Chrissy’s bed. The mishmash of islanders who’d barged in with her trailed along in her wake like a gaggle of goslings following a mother goose.
Wolf had the distinct urge to toss each and every one of them back into the hall. Chrissy looked more peaked by the minute. And if not for the soft smile that curled her lips when Jill grabbed her hand, he probablywouldhave pulled the big, bad Wolf card and growled and bared his teeth until the newcomers ran like scared jackrabbits.
“Chrissy.” Jill patted Chrissy’s hand. “The phone tree was activated and we all stumbled out of bed and came running as soon as we heard.”
As if to prove her point, she gestured to an elderly gentleman who wore a robe over a set of striped pajamas. Wolf glanced at the man’s feet, expecting to find slippers, but instead discovered a pair of hot pink Crocs.
Gotta love the islands.
And the islanders, he supposed. Although he would love themmoreif they were somewhere,anywherebesides here in Chrissy’s hospital room.
Chrissy introduced the locals. Striped Pajamas turned out to be Fred Moore, the editor of theKey West Citizen. Then there was Janice of the purple shorts, and Judy with the impossible red hair and the oversized Buddy Holly glasses. A T-shirt shop proprietor, and the head honcho of convenience mart respectively. Along with Jill, who ran a parasailing outfit, they had storefronts on the same block as Chrissy and Winston’s dive shop.
Once the pleasantries were finished, Jill demanded, “What the hell happened tonight?”
