Conch Shell Murder by Dorothy Francis

Author:Dorothy Francis [Francis, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2016-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

On Wednesday afternoon, Katie talked with Grace Benton, who confirmed Beck Dixon’s presence at Hibiscus House at the time of Alexa’s murder. Next she called Maria Gonzales, and a half-hour later she stood on the porch of Maria’s weathered Conch house across the street from Mary Bethel’s second-floor apartment. Katie looked down at the squat old Cuban. Wiry. Ferret-eyed. Suspicious. She was like a wrinkled crab ready to attack or retreat, depending on situational demands. As she smoothed a spotless white apron over her red gingham dress, a chill afternoon wind tossed her golden hoop earrings. She began twisting her wedding band.

“Please to meet my friend, Rosa Abresco,” Maria said. “She is here to confirm my true words to you.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Abresco.” Like Maria, Rosa was short. She had a determined set to her jaw, and she wore mourning from her babushka to her flat-heeled shoes that poked from beneath her long skirt. Her doleful costume suited the gloomy day.

“Buenas tardes, Senorita.” Katie smiled, hoping Maria would invite them inside where it was warmer.

“Please to sit down.” Seeking a wind-sheltered spot, Maria pulled forward a wicker chair that had lost its battle with dank air and mildew, then she and Rosa sat in similar chairs and faced their guest. “Questions you have?”

“Yes, Mrs. Gonzales. As I told you over the telephone, I’ve been hired by the Chitting family to investigate Alexa Chitting’s death.”

“Is too bad, the passing of the grand senora. But I know nothing of it. I am one who minds her own business.”

“Si,” Rosa said. “Likewise myself.”

“I’ve come to ask you about Mary Bethel who lives in the apartment across the street. I understand you’ve already talked with the police concerning Mary’s whereabouts on the Monday night of the murder.”

“Yes,” Maria said. “To the police I tell all I know. And there you have it.”

“Please repeat your story once more, Mrs. Gonzales. Did you see Mary on that Monday night?”

“Yes. I am not nosey. But one cannot help seeing what is directly before one’s eyes. Is right?”

“Of course. And you saw Miss Bethel too, Mrs. Abresco?”

“Si. Is like Maria says. Si.”

“You’re both certain you saw Mary the night Mrs. Chitting died?”

“Because this is my house and I sit here often whether it be hot or whether it be cold. I did see Mary Bethel that night. And I hear her radio playing that night. The sound, it carry clearly on this quiet street.”

“It carry,” Rosa echoed.

“I understand the weather had turned cold that Monday. Much like today.” Katie shivered. “You ladies didn’t mind the chill while sitting on your porch?”

“No,” Rosa said. “I tell you. We no mind.”

“I am tough old bird.” Pride tinged Maria’s voice. “Twenty years ago I escape to this island on a raft. I survive. Ninety miles of open sea. Now I do not let weather dictate to me. Free country. Not like Cuba. I sit where I want to sit. I sit when I want to sit. If it be cold, I wear a shawl.

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