Read Pier Pressure for Free Online Page B

secret entry we’d used as kids. Branches caught in my hair and scratched my arms as I pushed my bike through that growth and then through a small break in the well-manicured hibiscus hedge. After propping my bike against a palm near the greenhouse, I brushed twigs and leaves from my hair and clothes before approaching the house.
    Jass’s VW convertible sat in the carport beside Punt’s vintage Karmann Ghia. I looked up, half expecting to see Punt watching me from the catwalk surrounding his apartment. But he never appeared.
    “Come in, Keely,” Jass called to me as she opened the kitchen door then paused at the back stairway leading to family quarters on the second floor. I gave her a warm hug.
    “I’m sorry for your loss, Jass. Please tell me if there’s any way I can help you.” I peered into the first-floor parlor, glad to see no visitors present.
    “Let me ask you the same thing. I know you’ve been through a bad scene and I’m so glad you’ve come over. Let’s go upstairs.”
    Jass had turned the first-floor parlor and three bedrooms into commercial display rooms for her hibiscus business. In addition to her plants, she’d decorated the rooms in antiques salvaged from ill-fated sailing galleons. She loved to tell customers the story behind each antique, from the astrolabe the ancient mariners used to determine direction to the elegant china on the shelves behind her plants.
    “Are we alone?” I asked. I wondered if she had invited Punt or Shandy to join us. Since Shandy helped Jass in the greenhouse, they’d spent a lot of time together this past weekend getting ready for the Miami show. Punt came and went as he chose, but right now I hoped to talk to Jass alone.
    “Yes. We’re alone—at least for the time being.” She led the way into the second-floor living room, a green setting that pointed up her coloring and her personality. My sandals sank into the soft carpeting that made a sea-colored background for the white wicker couch, coffee table, and armchairs. “Sit, Keely. Make yourself comfortable.”
    I sat on the couch and Jass joined me. For a moment neither of us said anything. I tried to blot out the horror of the morning by concentrating on the fragrance of gardenia that permeated the room. Early for gardenias to be blooming. I looked around, trying to locate the plant, but Jass cut through my pretense.
    “I’m scared, Keely.” She leaned toward me and began twisting a strand of hair that had slipped from her long ponytail. “We need to find out who murdered Margaux, and we need to find out quickly.”
    “Hold on one minute.” I leaned back and studied her. “Who said murder? The police?”
    “No. Not the police. And that worries me. Detective Jonathan Curry stopped by here briefly just a few minutes ago. So far he has given me little information.”
    “He must have come straight here after he left my place. He asked me a million questions.”
    “Maybe you shouldn’t tell him too much. Maybe you need a lawyer.”
    “He said I didn’t. Said the questions were informal.”
    “That’s probably what they always tell a suspect.”
    “A suspect? You think I’m a suspect?”
    “Of course I don’t think that, but the police may.”
    “Did Curry say that?”
    “No. Not at all, and I’ve heard nothing else from the police. I’ve only caught a few of their veiled releases to the media, but you know Key West. The powers that be at the police station as well as at city hall and at the newspapers try to keep bad news very hush-hush.”
    “Yeah. Merchants don’t want the tourists to think crime ever touches Key West. Spoils the paradise image.”
    “Punt says he heard the police are suggesting suicide, but I know Margaux didn’t take her own life. Punt agrees. You know that, too, don’t you, Keely? Know that Margaux wasn’t suicidal?”
    “That’d be my guess, but nobody can say that for sure. You can’t know what’s inside another person’s mind.”
    “I think the police