I'll Be Watching You Page 12

  “It’ll come to you in time.”

  Tullie had said Kim was looking for the truth. “Zell says Tullie is psychic. Is that true?”

  “I swear she knows exactly what move I’m going to make when we play backgammon. She sometimes comes by after school and plays a couple games with me.”

  “She saw me in one of her visions.”

  Smitty’s face darkened as he leaned against the wall. “She had a premonition, what she calls feelings”—he put quotes around the word—“about Elva. She made me promise to keep an eye on her, said something bad was gonna happen. That was two days before she died. Wish I’d known she was going out that day.”

  She pushed away from the ladder and walked closer to him. “Something had made Elva think about dying, long before Tullie’s premonition. Was there something wrong with her health?”

  “Nope. She was as healthy and ornery as ever.”

  “But she thought to add my name to the bar and house. You know her. She never liked to think about dying. What made her do that?”

  He only shrugged. “Maybe she was feeling her age.”

  “She wasn’t that old!” Kim tapped her fingers against her cheek. “Elva went poling all the time in the summer. She could maneuver that skiff as good as any cracker. Don’t you think it’s odd—”

  “It was an accident.” He shifted his gaze away. “A stupid ole accident.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “It was her time to go, that’s all. That’s all. Don’t want to talk about it.” He walked back inside, leaving her to wonder what he knew. He’d been uncomfortable when she’d asked him about those payments. She followed him in. “If you’re trying to protect Elva’s memory, please don’t. If she was involved in something—”

  His keys jingled as he walked past her. “I’m going home for a bit. I’ll be back before happy hour.” She’d never seen him walk so fast.

  She watched him pull out of the lot and decided she was going to invest in a bottle of Tums for the bar. She had a feeling she was going to need it. Was Elva up to something, or was he expressing his grief in a strange way? No, he knew something. To keep her mind from wandering down a dark path, she went to work on the last window. Maybe this was the revenge those two rowdy guys decided on rather than running her off the road again. She hoped so.

  When an old Cadillac pulled into the lot an hour later, Kim stepped down from the ladder. She kept the hammer in hand until Amy Macgregor Burton stepped out. Amy had gone gray prematurely and didn’t care to cover the fact. Her silvery locks hung past her shoulders in the back and curled around her face in front. She had the Macgregor teal eyes and a pretty, heart-shaped face. Her linen skirt swished as she walked up to Kim.

  “’Member me? Amy?” Her voice had a light, lyrical quality.

  “Sure do.” She glanced around. “Are you supposed to be here? Being a Macgregor and all?”

  She handed Kim a business card with a Glamour Shots picture of Amy next to Cypress Real Estate’s heron logo. “I come to see if you were thinking of listing this place. No need to harbor the past if it gets in the way of doing business, that’s what I say.”

  Or making a commission, Kim thought.

  “Looks like you had a bit of trouble,” Amy said, surveying the front of the bar.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” She climbed back on the ladder and put the last nails into the facing wood. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “So, are you going to list Southern Comfort? I do hope you’ll list it locally. Surely no one in Naples could present it as well as someone from here.”

  Why did everyone assume she was going to sell it? “I’ll give it some thought.” To get off the subject, she asked, “How’s your mom?”

  “Still serving time, still as ornery as ever. She’s petitioning the prison to let her have a pet snake.”

  “What happened to your painting?”

  “Still do it, but it doesn’t pay the rent. Even this real estate gig isn’t doing it.”

  Before Kim could think better of it, out came the words, “Want to wait tables a few nights a week?”

  Amy blinked, as surprised by the offer as Kim. “What happened to Linda May?”

  “Quit.” Kim hammered in the last nail and climbed down from the ladder. “Think about it.”

  Amy shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Well, Zell did give Smitty the okay to keep working there. Maybe…maybe I will.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of tips you’ll get or how busy you’ll be. As I recall, Saturdays were always pretty busy with folks from out of town and from the hunting club.” Unless Buck was sending them elsewhere. But the only other lounge in town was at the Everglades Inn. It attracted out-of-towners, but not the regular folk. “You can start tonight, say five-thirty. I’ll have to see what Elva paid Linda May; that’s about as much as I could afford right now.”

  “Okay.” She smiled. “Okay, then. I’ll be here.”

  When she left, Kim took a deep breath. It was a start. Now she’d have to see how it went over having a Macgregor working for her.

  JoGene watched Kim nailing the boards over the windows he’d smashed early that morning. Why didn’t she look more upset? She’d just gone right to work fixing things like it was her bar. Legally it was, but in every other way it was his. Elva had told him she wanted to sell the place, and he’d said he was interested. She hadn’t figured how much she wanted, but she promised to come up with terms the following week. Then she’d died.

  Hiding behind Wharton hadn’t been the greatest idea. He figured being anonymous would ease it along, but she didn’t like that at all.

  Kim hadn’t made one move to put the bar up for sale, not even a sign in the window. Ads for the orchids and the pig had showed up in the paper that morning, but no bar.

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. She’d better not be thinking of keeping it. Southern Comfort was his. He needed it. Maybe he ought to implement his backup plan.

  He left his truck at the marina and walked over to the bar. “Hey, Kim. How’s it going?”

  “Just fine and dandy,” she said in a voice that indicated it was neither.

  “Need some help?”

  She pounded in another nail before answering, “I’ve got it, thanks. ’Sides, I wouldn’t want you to catch hell from your dad for helping me.”

  His hands tightened into fists, but she was too busy to see that or the red infusing his face. “He doesn’t own me, you know,” he said through rigid lips. “Nobody owns me.”

  “Come on, JoGene. I remember how it was.”

  He wanted to knock over her ladder, maybe slap her hard, show her he wasn’t impotent. Damn her. He wanted to crouch down over her and rip off her jeans and show her just how potent he was. He was surprised how even his voice sounded as he headed away. “See you around then.”

  He’d see her around. He’d show her.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Dayum, woman, you like to scare my nuts right off me!”

  It was the third time Kim had heard some colorful expression whenever one of the few customers saw the animals on the bar. “They’re stuffed,” she told Bo (at least that’s what the back of his belt read) as he poked them to find out for himself. “The deal tonight is, buy a pitcher of beer and take an animal home with you.”

  Tullie had been right; Smitty didn’t want the animals. No room in his Airstream trailer.

  “Well, I might take the owl. Wife loves owls.” He turned to his buddy. “Or is it wood storks? Ah, a bird’s a bird. Gimme a pitcher of Michelob, sweet thing.”

  Kim didn’t know these two, so she figured they were staying at the camp. She poured a pitcher and set it and two frosted mugs on the bar. “That’ll be seven-fifty.”

  When he settled his bill, she said, “And here’s your owl.”

  The smell of wings and the tang of the vinegar in the Hotsy-Totsy sauce competed with the smoke. Elva had designated four different types of sauces: BBQ, Burn-yo
ur-ass, Hotsy-Totsy and an expression for the mild sauce that young children couldn’t even say. She doubted many men ordered it, that was for sure. Only Elva would put something like that on a menu. Kim intended to revamp it. She’d keep Hotsy-Totsy in Elva’s honor.

  Amy brought up some empty glasses. “I swear that raccoon and fox are staring at me. It’s downright creepy!”

  “They’ll be gone by the end of the night probably.” Why did she feel downright guilty about that? Because they were something Elva had liked. Just like when a woman had called about Oscar, and Kim grilled her about the living situation. “I don’t think so,” she’d said after hearing that they lived in an apartment in Naples. Oscar needed his outdoor time. She owed it to Elva to do right by him.

  She owed Elva.

  I owe her. I can’t turn away from all this. Not only for her, but for me. This place is mine.

  Oh, no, what are you saying?

  “I’ll take the coon,” Bo’s friend said, reaching for it.

  She slapped his hand away. “It’s already spoken for. So’s the fox.” Her voice was tight. She grabbed up the critters and set them on the bar behind her where they’d have a place of honor. The blood had drained from her face and her heart was beating slightly faster.

  She was staying. She was probably crazy—no, definitely crazy—but she was staying in Cypress.

  “You all right?” Amy asked when she came up to grab a towel.

  Kim only nodded, not ready to share her revelation yet. She took in the place her grandmother had loved all these years and left to her. She didn’t believe for a minute that Elva was going to sell it to someone. Now all she had to do was quit her job, tell Simon, whom she hadn’t even thought about all day, and then tell everyone here. That was going to be the hardest part. Not saying goodbye to the man she loved but who was all wrong for her, but telling the folks here that she was staying.

  “I must be crazy.”

  “What?” Amy asked, stopping in her tracks.

  “Nothing.”

  She sat on her decision for an hour, letting it roll around in her head. It felt right. Crazy but right. This was her home, and even if the people here didn’t think so, this is where she belonged. Pressure was building in her chest, a mix of anticipation and fear. Of course, her subconscious had known all along that she was staying. Her soul had known from the moment she’d turned onto the highway leading to town. It had taken her head a little longer to come around.

  The post-happy hour crowd was nearly that—a crowd. The jukebox was playing those old country classics and people were actually laughing. She knew some had come in to check her out; she was sure she was a topic of interest. As Smitty had said, the most interesting thing to happen in a while. It looked as though he was talking about her, too, sitting with his cronies at the long table. That’s why Elva paid him as little as she did. He was a part-timer even though he was at the bar full-time. That was all right; Amy was doing a great job even if she was a little too chatty. At least nobody was hollering impatiently for his or her beer.

  Amy yelled, “Smitty, need a twenty-four order of Burn-your-ass!” She arrived at the bar and said, “Two longneck Buds and a Jack Daniels, no ice.”

  Nobody ever ordered interesting drinks here, like Screaming Orgasms and Slippery Nipples, though Kim suspected most folks only ordered those to say the words. She had caught her groove with the fancy maneuvers an old boyfriend had taught her. At least making the drinks could be fun.

  “That is so cool how you do that,” Amy said, watching the bottle of Jack spin in the air. She nodded toward the room. “They’re all betting you drop a bottle ’fore the night is out.”

  Kim forced a smile. “Great. Is anyone betting I won’t drop one?”

  Amy grinned. “Me.”

  “Thanks. You’re doing a great job, by the way.”

  “I did a bit of waiting tables at Thelma Sue’s place ’fore she went out of business. Wasn’t my fault, I swear! Her nephew had his fingers in the till and run her out financially.”

  Kim laughed. “I wasn’t blaming you.” She set the drinks on the server’s end of the bar and watched Amy saunter back to one of her tables.

  Clem and Billy Bob had wandered in a bit ago. She didn’t like the smug smiles on their faces as they watched her from their table. Either they’d busted her windows or they were planning something else. Or both. She stared right back at them before heading into the storeroom to get more Budweiser, but only after instructing Amy to make them pay as they drank. They’d already gotten a free pitcher of beer when she’d kicked them out last night.

  She caught herself wishing Zell was there at his table drinking—what was it? Oh yeah, Captain Morgan and root beer. She smiled and then realized she was smiling a little too much over him. She restocked the ice bin, flattened a box, and put it out back. Outside, the frogs were in chorus and a fish flopped in the dark river. A full moon was rising to the east, so close and bright she could see the craters. Across the river the mounds of mangroves were silhouetted against a slate-gray sky. She pictured a screened-in deck out here and maybe a place in the corner for a guitar player on the weekends. She only had a minute to dream, because the mosquitoes had honed in on her and were signaling fourteen thousand of their closest friends to join them for supper.

  Elva, I’m going to do this. She walked back in and her pores shrunk again in the cool air. She remembered Elva explaining why she didn’t run the air conditioner in the house: a body wasn’t meant to be switching from hot air to cold air like that. She’d snapped her fingers. I’m gonna enjoy the air as God intended it. Kim suspected she wanted to save money.

  Amy greeted the couple that came in with a quick hug and then went on to explaining, no doubt, what she was doing there. Charlotte Macgregor didn’t look pleased. Owen followed her, to Kim’s surprise, to the bar where they took stools. Charlotte looked around as though she expected to see major changes. Her eyes alighted on the dead animals for a moment until Kim distracted her by asking what they wanted to drink.

  “Jack and Coke, and Owen will have a Bud Light.” When he was about to protest, she pinched his belly, which was protruding over his belt. “Bud Light.”

  Kim felt Charlotte’s gaze as she flipped the bottle. Her moves felt awkward beneath the scrutiny. “Mug?” she asked Owen as she set the drinks on the napkins she’d placed when she’d taken their order. He shook his head and slung back about a third of the bottle.

  Charlotte tapped her long, acrylic nails on the lacquered surface of the bar. She had a rhinestone embedded in the bright pink polish of each nail. Frosty swirls surrounded each stone. “I understand you found Zell earlier.”

  “Sure did.” She wasn’t about to implicate Tullie and hoped the girl hadn’t gotten into trouble. “I didn’t know where he lived or I wouldn’t have come to the house and bothered you.”

  “You didn’t bother me. Nothing bothers me. It’s my daddy that got bothered. I think it’s him you should be apologizing to.”

  Great, now everyone knew she’d apologized to Zell. As for Winnerow, how could she apologize when she wasn’t sure she was wrong?

  “Surprised to see you here,” was all Kim would commit to.

  “Yeah, well, I figured I’d see what’s what.”

  Owen polished off the bottle and asked for another, pointedly ignoring his wife’s raised eyebrow. Kim wondered what price he paid to up his status, if that’s why he’d married Charlotte to begin with, and how much he resented her rule over him.

  “It’s a shame what happened to Elva,” Charlotte said. “She was a magamous woman.”

  “I think you mean magnanimous,” Kim said.

  Charlotte cocked that eyebrow at her now. “That’s what I said.” She was as cool as the ice she was clinking in her drink. Kim supposed she’d have to be to oversee the alligator farm. Working with creatures that could eat you had to teach you to keep your cool in any kind of situation. According to Smitty’s ramblings, she was not only doing a good job
running the farm, but she actually enjoyed working with the creatures. Kim figured anyone who liked gators was definitely off-center. Which, she figured, fit Charlotte.

  JoGene sauntered in and headed over to the bar. “Howdy,” he greeted Charlotte and Owen before giving Kim a wink and taking a seat. “Bud.” JoGene and Owen had been buddies back in high school and apparently still were.

  When Kim realized he wasn’t calling her Bud, she reached around and poured him a draft. Owen said to JoGene, “Your dad’s going to have pissing fits when he finds out you’re here.”

  JoGene swigged down a few inches of his brew, too, and slammed down the mug. “I don’t give a damn what he says.”

  Owen shook his head like a dog shaking off fleas. “We’re talking ’bout Buck here.”

  “I’m gonna get away from him, I am. You wait and see.”

  “I have been waiting to see,” Owen said, clearly having given up on the prospect. “Maybe if you win the lottery or something.”

  JoGene visibly tamped down the anger building on his expression, swallowing as though it was a ball in his throat. “Are we going fishing later tonight? Snook’s supposed to be biting.”

  People in Tallahassee had made fun of the way Kim had pronounced snook with a long sound rhyming with kook. She’d tempered some of her pronunciation over time, but she wasn’t bothered when someone called her a redneck. “And proud of it,” she’d say with a lift of her chin.

  “So,” Charlotte mumbled around lighting a cigarette. “How come everybody notices Zell and those stupid shirts of his, but no one notices my nails? Every week I get ’em done differently, but does anybody applaud that? Noooooooo.” She lifted her hands. “Do you know what I have to go through for these babies? Zell orders a shirt out of a catalog, and it’s a big whoop-de-doo.”

  Owen ducked as her hand whipped through the air. Even JoGene backed away. Owen said, “It’s not manly to notice things like women’s nails.”