Read Online Pier Pressure by Dorothy Francis - Free Book Online

nine o’clock I went with June Bishop to the late movie, a double feature. We were inside the theater all the time and I’m sure June will vouch for me. What about you, Punt?”
    “I hung out at Sloppy Joe’sfrom eight-thirty until after midnight. About ten, one of the guys in the band invited me to sit in for a while. Shim Latner lent me his guitar. I played until the band left the stand around one o’clock. After that we jammed until three or so. Then I came home and went to bed. Jass, since you were up late, maybe you heard me come in.”
    “Afraid not.” Jass sighed. “We’ll trust each other. We wouldn’t be holding this conversation if we were guilty, and there’s another thing we have to consider quickly. Margaux stipulated plans for her memorial service in her will.”
    “Didn’t know people could do that,” I said. “Why would anyone want to?”
    “Margaux thought she could do anything her little heart desired,” Punt said. “She liked to see people dance to do her bidding, and she knew her memorial service would be her last chance to make the calls.”
    “So what about this service?” I asked. “What did she want? A fanfare? A drum and bugle corps? A Duval Street parade?”
    “None of that,” Jass said. “Within forty-eight hours of her death, she wanted her body cremated, a memorial service to be attended by invitation only, and a burial at sea to be held on the same day.”
    “What if there’s a small craft advisory?” Punt asked. “I suppose we’ll have to dump her ashes into a bait bucket and store it ’til the seas calm. Could take days. I’ve seen it blow hard for a week in February.”
    “Be real, Punt. Be an optimist. The long-range weather forecast predicts winds at five to ten for the next four days. That takes us through Wednesday, but we still have to act quickly. If the police call Margaux’s death a suicide and her body is cremated, most evidence of foul play will have been destroyed.”
    Before Punt or I could agree or disagree, we heard a car pull up in the driveway. Beau had arrived.

Seven
    JASS JUMPED UP and hurried toward the foyer that led to the front stairway. Punt followed her down the winding steps to the hibiscus display room below. From a vantage spot near the stairway, I watched Beau through a leaded glass window as he rapped with the brass knocker and then opened the door and stepped inside. I wished I could avoid meeting him right now, avoid being drawn into the grief and anger he must be feeling, but I saw no way out. Jass, with Punt following, rushed to greet him.
    With his tall, muscular body, Beau could have been the poster boy for state-of-the-art scuba gear and swim trunks. Even now in his black silk shirt and cream-colored shorts, his dark hair along with his tanned skin and his sea-blue eyes reminded me of a lithe Neptune rising from the sea. I could believe the rumor that two local salvage companies were after him to sign contracts with them, to dive again and help locate The Espinosa, another sunken galleon.
    At the foot of the steps, Beau pulled both Jass and Punt to him in a warm embrace, then followed them upstairs to the sitting room. Perhaps this tragedy would help Beau and Punt forget some of the problems that separated them.
    “Keely.” Beau didn’t seem astonished to see me in the sitting room, and when he stepped toward me, I clasped his hand in both of mine.
    It didn’t surprise me to feel him shaking. Or was I the one shaking? “I’m so sorry, Beau. You have my heartfelt sympathy?”
    “Dad, where have you been?” Jass asked.
    Beau hesitated a moment as if trying to get things straight in his mind. “I’ve been trying to get home,” he said at last. “Heavy Sunday afternoon traffic, as always. And since I didn’t know about…the emergency, I kept in my lane and resisted the urge to pass the line of traffic ahead of me. I encountered a long delay on Seven-Mile Bridge. Some guy’s Town Car had an alternator problem and