Free Quint Mitchell 01 - Matanzas Bay by Parker Francis Page A

gag the jurors.”
    Marrano took another step in my direction, and I instinctively tightened my stomach muscles. He responded with a twisted smile. Removing his sunglasses, he said, “You’re talking out of your ass, Mitchell. But that’s what I’d expect from you. The evidence proves he’s the killer. We found his prints on the murder weapon, and—”
    “Come on,” I broke in. “He must have told you why his prints were on the bayonet. There are three witnesses to back up his story.”
    “You can think whatever you want, but there’s no doubt we have the right man. There is one other thing bothering me, though.”
    The smug expression on his face didn’t waver as he waited for me to respond. Behind him, I spotted the long-neglected statue of Lady Justice standing on a stained pedestal. The statue’s arm, which normally held the Scales of Justice, was broken off at the elbow.
    When I didn’t take the bait, he said, “This is where you say, ‘Okay, sergeant, what’s bothering you?’”
    “I’ll bite. What’s bothering you?”
    “They also found your prints on the murder weapon. That’s what bothers me. Be thinking of a good answer because Horgan will want to know when he brings you in today.”
    “I’ll be glad to clear up the mystery for you, as I’m sure Poe did. There’ll be a lot of red faces when the truth comes out, sergeant. Not everyone believes you have the right man. In fact, your sister-in-law is one of those people. She’s hired me to find her husband’s killer since the police seem to have a bad case of tunnel vision.”
    Marrano replaced his sunglasses. “I’ll make you a promise, Mitchell. If it turns out we’re wrong about Poe, I’ll personally apologize to both of you. But if I find out you had a hand in killing my brother, you’re not going to know what hit you.”
    “You’ve already demonstrated your investigative techniques,” I said, patting my stomach. “But I look forward to your apology, and Mrs. Marrano will look forward to learning who really killed her husband.”
    “Erin’s made a mistake,” he said stiffly, his jaw tightening. “Poe killed her husband. There’s no question about it, and you should do yourself a favor and back off.”
    “You may be right, but I’m staying on the case until she tells me it’s over.”
    “And I’m telling you if you don’t watch your step you’ll be wearing an orange jumpsuit and sharing a cell with your friend.” He leaned in close. I smelled stale coffee and fried fish on his breath.
    “Listen, sergeant, I know you have a personal interest in this case, but Jeffrey Poe didn’t kill your brother. Someone’s obviously made a mistake.”
    “You bastard,” he spit out, his rigid control suddenly replaced by a hot fury. “The only person making a mistake is you. And you can’t afford to make any more enemies around here.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    His lip curled into a sneer. “You forget where you are, don’t you? You’re not in Boston or New York. This is St. Augustine.”
    When I looked at him blankly, he added, “You’ve already put yourself on some people’s shit list by dating that colored girl, Serena Howard. Don’t make it any worse on yourself.”
    I hadn’t forgotten where I was, but maybe when I was. Wasn’t this the twenty-first century? Hadn’t we elected the country’s first African-American president? Marrano’s brand of ugly racism should have gone the way of those White and Colored signs once posted on rest rooms and above water fountains. An inner rage bubbled inside me, and I wanted to slam this ignorant redneck against the nearest palm tree and pound some decency into him. But I knew it was a lost cause.
    He spun around without another word, got in his car and left me alone with my rage.

TEN
    The Martinez House fit nicely into the B & Bs, restaurants, and private homes on Charlotte Street. The fortress-like structure came equipped with an overhanging second floor