Wrongful Conviction by Janet Heijens

Author:Janet Heijens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2015-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Rising from a small spit of land, the Crow’s Nest faced the sea. Adam and I arrived a few minutes early to find there was already a queue of customers stretching to the water’s edge, waiting for the restaurant to open. People chatted congenially, perfect strangers drawing Adam and me into conversation as if we were old friends. When a young man finally opened the doors, I glanced at my watch. Five thirty-five. No one seemed bothered that it was later than the posted hours.

The front doors led to a dark cavern-like room with a low ceiling. Booths with vinyl-covered benches lined the walls. Given we were on the beach I was hoping for a view overlooking the water, but the interior of this place looked more like a common bar back home than a seaside restaurant. I gave the receptionist Doris’s name, and she checked the register, waving us up a narrow stairway before turning her attention to the next person in line. Looking at Adam, I shrugged and led the way, emerging at the top into an open room. The view caught my breath.

The sky was aflame, the clouds painted red and orange by the setting sun. Pelicans circled above, dive-bombing the choppy sea, shaking their beaks in frustration at the fish that got away. Below, boaters returned from the Gulf, their sails catching the westerly breeze as they glided through a channel and into the marina below. I could have stood there for hours, just taking in the scene, but the hostess soon appeared and led us to our table.

“Jeremy will be your server this evening,” she said as she set three oversized menus on the table. “I’ll send him over to take your drink order while you wait for Doris.”

I glanced around the room. Not quite six o’clock and every seat in the place filled. Still no sign of Doris. Adam must have been reading my mind.

“I wonder where she is,” he said. “Do you think we should give her a call?”

I started to nod when out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Doris, earrings bouncing to the beat of her steps as she hurried toward us.

“Hello Jeanie dear,” she said. “So sorry I’m late.” She bent down to kiss my cheek and I caught the smell of lavender and roses. Old-age spots marked her arms, wrinkles on her face spoke of years in the Florida sun.

“Adam Bennett.” Adam stood, offering his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Keating.”

“Call me Doris,” she said, wiggling her fingers as if to brush all formality away. “Everyone does.” She slipped into the chair that Adam had pulled out and allowed him to push it in under her. “Oh my,” she said. “Such good manners, dear boy. Your mother must have raised you right.”

Doris Keating was smaller than I remembered, and decidedly thinner, but by all appearances she was as energetic as ever. She still wore her hair in a bun at the back of her neck, but the bright ginger color that I remembered had turned silver.

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