Free Daiquiri Dock Murder by Dorothy Francis Page B

ring. Maybe because I saw a line of similar color on Kane’s boat only a few minutes ago. Kane said the compartment lid under the bunkhouse mattress was there when he bought the boat. Several years ago. Did Ramsey think he could drop the blame for Diego’s death at Kane’s bulkhead? Crazy idea. The chief had no way, no way at all, of knowing about the rustic furnishings in The Buccaneer ’s bunkhouse.
    The chief began talking again. I tucked my thoughts about the blue line to the back of my mind—in a place where I’d remember to pull them out and give them more consideration later.
    “Now I want each of you to tell us the last time you saw Diego Casterano alive. Brick Vexton? I’ll start with you since you worked closely with the victim.”
    Brick met the chief’s steady gaze. I wondered who would exit from this eyeball-to-eyeball encounter first, Brick or Ramsey.
    Brick cleared his throat, never allowing his gaze to waver. “I saw Diego arrive at work yesterday morning around seven o’clock. He checked in at the desk in the chandlery as was his custom every work day.”
    “You didn’t see him at any time later in the day?”
    “No. I left Jessie and my usual weekend employees in charge of the dock because I needed to tend to my volunteer duties on the Duval Street parade route.”
    The chief nodded. And looked away first. Score one for Brick.
    `”And you, Mrs. Vexton. When did you last see the victim alive?”
    Mentally, I cringed every time Ramsey said Diego’s name, but hearing him called ‘the victim’ was even worse. The word grated against my eardrums until my head threatened to start aching again. Threnody thought for several moments before she answered.
    “I saw him Friday night at The Blue Mermaid. Yesterday, Saturday, I spent the day at home until parade line-up time. Fiesta Fest officials scheduled me to sing a solo seated on the first float as the parade passed the judges reviewing stand in front of Sloppy Joe’s. I spent part of my day vocalizing, memorizing lyrics, and practicing for that event. Singing outdoors, even with a good mike, takes lots of early-on rehearsing, yet I have to take care not to tire my vocal cords and cause hoarseness. Singing while seated requires more breath control than singing while standing. So, after practicing, I spent more time adding the finishing touches on my Mrs. Neptune costume. I didn’t see Diego at any time Saturday.”
    The chief hadn’t interrupted Threnody’s prima donna account of her rehearsing. Was I jealous of Threnody and her talent? No. Threnody was a singer. I was a writer. We’d both worked hard for any recognition we’d won. Ramsey continued.
    “If you didn’t see the victim yesterday, please tell us again about the last time you did see him alive.”
    “I saw him Friday night, mingling with guests who came to enjoy dancing and refreshments in The Frangipani Room at The Blue Mermaid.”
    “Did he stay there all evening?”
    “I have no way of knowing that,” Threnody said. “I was only present a short time before I sang the sign-off number with the combo. After I finished singing, I helped Dolly Jass who sometimes tends bar or helps out in the kitchen. Rafa Blue is manager and acts as hostess in The Frangipani Room. While Cheri and her mother are away on vacation, Rafa asked Dolly to help out wherever she needed her and she asked Brick to mix drinks and tend the cash register. After Brick closed the bar for the night, he and I drove home.”
    Chief Ramsey next turned to Jessie Vexton. When did you last see Diego Casterano alive?”
    Jessie looked directly at Ramsey. “I’m not sure, Sir.”
    Even while seated on an uncomfortable chair in a dreary office, Jessie managed a slight shrug that revealed his cocky I’ll-do-as-I-please attitude.
    “I worked at the cash register at our chandlery most of the day on Saturday. I only saw Diego now and then as he performed his various dock master duties during that time. I closed and