“Guess we can do the newspaper notice without including the burial information. It would be embarrassing to mention the cemetery and find out later that a plot won’t be available.”
“Should we make the call to the newspaper right now? Or maybe it’d be more effective if we drove to their office and made our request eyeball to eyeball.”
Threnody laughed. “I’m for that. The office is only a few blocks from here on North Roosevelt.”
“Everything’s only a few blocks away on this rock. That’s another one of my favorite things about Key West.”
We stuffed our picnic leavings into the Pier House box, deposited it in a trash barrel, and left the dock. When we reached the
Citizen
office, we both went inside where low ceilings captured and held the scent of newsprint and fresh ink. Three women sat at desks, their eyes focused on computer screens. None looked up until Threnody cleared her throat and coughed.
One plump woman wearing a rust-colored tank top and a gathered-at-the-waist skirt rose, stepped toward the counter that separated us, and listened to our plea. Her name tag said Dot Dumple.
“You expect to get this notice in tomorrow morning’s paper? Such material should have been in our hands yesterday afternoon at the very latest.” Dumpling scowled, spoiling the sweet image she first projected.
“Surely you can make an exception for this special funeral,” Threnody said. “Unusual circumstances. A homicide victim. We made arrangements for his service as soon as we could. Had to get the go-head from the police and the medical examiner before we approached the mortuary people and the Bayview Park official—the mayor.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Dumpling said. “One moment, please.”
As she turned to leave us, Threnody sighed and called after her. “We’re willing to pay a ‘late’ fee. The notice won’t be of interest to anyone on Wednesday.”
We paced the waiting area, listening to the hum of the AC and the distant clatter of a typewriter. At last Dumpling returned.
“We’ll get it in for you tomorrow. No late fee necessary. Shall I write the details for you or do you want to do it yourself?”
“Please do it for us.” Threnody jotted the facts on the green postum Dumpling offered. “And send any bill to Brick Vexton at the Daiquiri Dock Marina.”
“And thank you so much,” I added. “We’re most appreciative.” We turned to leave the office when Dumpling called to us.
“Ladies?”
Threnody turned to face her. “Yes? Is there something else you need?”
“What about a more detailed obit? We might not get it in tomorrow, but we could get it in on Wednesday. For sure.”
Threnody and I stared at each other for a moment. “We haven’t had time to write the obituary yet,” I said. “We’ll work on it and get it to you soon.”
“Thank you,” Dumpling called. “Dot Dumple. That’s my name in case you want to call the obit in. Or you can email me. [email protected].
“Thank you,” I called over my shoulder as we left the office. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Pablo will be in touch,” Threnody corrected. “He knows more about Diego’s past life, his family, than either of us. Suppose he can write?”
“I’m guessing he can. But will he? That’s the question.”
“Okay, I appoint you, Rafa Blue, a committee of one to get an obit from him.”
“Guess I can’t refuse. I’ll talk to him tonight—if he shows up. Otherwise, I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”
Threnody drove me back to the hotel and then went on to take care of the small details connected with Diego’s service. I sometimes enjoy working outdoors, and today a few palm branches had fallen near the entryway and I pulled them to the trash can near the alley, dropping them there for the yard man to break into short segments and fill the can for trash pick-up.
Twice as I worked, I saw Detective Lyon drive past the hotel. I didn’t wave to him, nor he to me. It shouldn’t have surprised me that the police placed The Blue Mermaid
under surveillance, but I thought they might have been more subtle. Lyon drove an unmarked Crown Victoria, but the ‘here-come-de-cops’ look about it would have alerted any killer.
At mid-afternoon I was still thinking about asking Pablo to write Diego’s obituary when the phone rang. I picked up.
“Hello? No response. Hello? Rafa Blue speaking. Still no response. I banged the receiver into its cradle, almost sure now that someone was trying to frighten me—maybe the same person who caused my fall from the balcony. When Kane stopped by a few minutes later, I said nothing to him about the dead-line calls. We sat beside the pool discussing Diego’s funeral arrangements. Kane waved to Detective Lyon on another of his passes by the hotel and the pool. Lyon didn’t return his wave.
“Kane, let’s walk to the graveyard. I want to see the burial spot Brick chose for Diego. It’s such a personal thing. What if Pablo doesn’t like it? Do you suppose he could change it at the last minute?”
Kane hesitated. “You been to the graveyard before?”
“Of course I’ve been there—but not for ages. Dad was buried at sea. Guess I’ve never had reason to go there.”
“The locals refer to it euphemistically as The Cemetery. It’s not my favorite place, but your wish is my command. Let’s go.” He gave a short laugh. “It bothers me that all the burial vaults are above ground. Back home, we bury people in the ground.”
“Some visiting dignitary once called the above-ground vaults white-washed hope chests.” I stepped into the hotel lobby and picked up a tourist guide to the cemetery and handed it to Kane.
He shuddered and then glanced at the brochure. “Guess the place is open daily—at least from sunrise to sunset, according to the info here.” Leaving the hotel, we headed toward Angela Street at the edge of Old Town, a street little more than a one-way trail in places. Kane read snatches from the brochure.
“Says here that city officials established the cemetery in eighteen-forty-seven. Hmmm. I’ve seen graves that date before that.”
“How can that be?”
He pointed to an inside page in the brochure. “The original graveyard was closer to the lighthouse, but city fathers moved it to its present location years ago when a hurricane passed through disinterring many graves. Now, all the bones rest in above-ground vaults.”
We reached the graveyard almost before I realized it. White hot. Treeless. Many flowering shrubs. “Egrets, Kane. They’re drifting about among the vaults like white ghosts.” I took his hand as a chill feathered along my spine.
“You think
this
is spooky! You should pass by here at twilight when mosquito hawks swoop and dive for their suppers. Their
piskk-piskk
chirps can curdle your blood.”
We stopped to read the epitaphs on several gravestones. Most said ‘Beloved Mother’ or ‘Always in our hearts.’ Kane pointed to one engraving that said, ‘I told you I was sick.’
I hesitated over one man’s stone that read, ‘Always dreamed of being someone. Still dreaming.’ I wondered if he had been a writer. I could identify with his thought.
“Wonder where the caretaker is.” I inched closer to Kane.
“We should have called ahead if you expected to talk to him.”
“I did jot down his phone number and I have my cell phone. If we could talk to him right now, maybe he could direct us to the spot Brick chose for Diego’s cremains.”
“Go ahead and give it a try, Rafa. If he keeps regular office hours, he should still be on duty.”
I pulled my cell and the note with his number from my pocket and keyed in the digits. The phone rang only twice before he spoke. “Key West Cemetery. Adrian Diaz speaking.”
“Rafa Blue here, Mr. Diaz. I’m inquiring about the location of the burial plot Brick Vexton arranged for this morning for Diego Casterano. I’m at the cemetery now and I’d like to see the burial place if that’s possible.”
There was a short wait before Adrian Diaz spoke again. “Miss Blue, there must be some mistake. I’m acquainted with Brick Vexton, but I have not talked with him anytime lately, and certainly not today.”
“He’s made no burial arrangements?”
“No, Ma’am. None. Perhaps he changed his mind and chose some other cemetery. However, we have several plots available, should he call me today.”
“Thank you, Sir. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“No problemento.”
Mr. Diaz broke our connection and I stood looking at Kane dumbfounded. “I wonder what changed Brick’s plans. At our meeting this morning, Pablo suggested having the burial here and we all agreed. But maybe Pablo changed his mind. He may not have seen the place since childhood days. Perhaps he came to look it over and found that it didn’t seem suitable to him now.”
“Wonder if Pablo hired a band to play the dead home.”
“Kane! Well, I guess people still do that sort of thing. I’ve read about it in the paper.”
“Only sometimes. I borrowed a snare and played with a funeral band a couple months ago.”
“Pablo didn’t say anything about a funeral band. But he did agree to let Brick make burial arrangements.”
“Guess everyone knew that except Adrian Diaz.” Kane grabbed my hand. “Let’s get out of here, Rafa. The sun’s dropping low and I’ve always thought this’s one creepy place.”
I followed Kane down Palm Avenue that bisected the cemetery and once outside the gates, we hurried toward The Blue Mermaid.
Chapter 23
“Kane, why do you suppose Brick failed to secure a burial place? I wish now I’d insisted on coming here with him.”
“He invited you to do that?”
“Well, yes. But I didn’t want to.”
“Don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Brick will find a burial spot somewhere that pleases him and that would have pleased Diego.”
“Don’t understand his thinking. According to Mr. Diaz, there are plots available for purchase.”
Kane shrugged. “Maybe he thought that laying Diego to rest in this graveyard would make his grave all too visible at this time.”
“And we’re supposed to keep him invisible? Be real, Kane.”
“No matter who dies, curiosity seekers want an inside scoop on the details of the death. When the deceased’s a homicide victim, it makes some people even more curious.”
I turned toward the hotel.
“I’ve read that criminals sometimes return to the scene of their crime. And later, maybe even to the burial place of their victim.”
“I’m guessing the police will probably be scrutinizing the crowd at Diego’s services tomorrow.”
“I’ll be doing the same thing, Kane. Won’t you? Maybe all the ‘people of interest’ will be on the alert.”
“If the killer attends the funeral, I think he’d be so nervous he’d throw up, or maybe jump up and leave. Think that’s what I’d do—or want to do.”
“Don’t think either of those things will happen. Whoever killed Diego is too tough-minded to show any reaction.”
Kane linked his arm through mine as we left the cemetery. We turned our backs on the ghostly egrets still wandering among the burial vaults. Thank goodness we were too early for the mosquito hawks!
“There’s another thing that might have changed Pablo’s mind about securing a burial plot here,” Kane said. “This graveyard gets lots of media publicity—newspapers, magazine articles. Maybe Pablo didn’t want to see Diego’s vault featured in the next tourist brochure. Not only are those folders available at the welcome center in Old Town, but also in welcome centers from Miami to Key West. And of course they appear in racks at the airports.”
“You may be right about that. I wouldn’t want my dad’s grave featured on a tourist’s brochure. But couldn’t Pablo sue the brochure company for invasion of privacy?”
“Don’t have an answer to that one, but Pablo would have to make that decision.” Kane began walking faster and I matched my pace to his, eager to leave the graveyard behind us. “We can quit speculating on Brick’s intentions because I’m going to ask him for an explanation tonight when he arrives for work.”
When we reached the hotel and went directly to The Frangi, Mama G shouted her usual greeting.
“Hola, amigos!”
“Hola,” we responded.
“I arrive early with my sandwich fillings. Will help you make the sandwiches—if need be. Brought chopped eel and caper filling. Brought escargot and feta cheese filling. Brought…”
True to form, Mama G spouted orders to everyone within earshot. She reminded me of a mechanical toy someone had wound too tight.
“I’m outta here,” Kane said. “See you later. Gotta secure my boat for the night and get dressed before I come to work.”
“Kane!” Mama G shouted to Kane who turned to leave. “Need you to taste the fillings.”
“Your sandwich fillings are always delicious, Mama G” Kane continued striding toward the elevator. “Save me a ground conch and pickle, okay?”
Mama G’s face flushed with pleasure at hearing Kane’s compliment, and the elevator door closed behind him before she found the presence of mind to call to him again. Pablo arrived just then, distracting her even more.
“Rafa,” Pablo said, “I plan to play with the combo tonight if you still want me to.”
“Is my band,” Mama G said, stepping forward and standing between Pablo and me. “I am band leader you should be asking.”