Page 54 of Nine Lives

“I remember,” she said, swinging the door all the way open and inviting him in. “I don’t hear as well as I used to but I’m not forgetful. Not yet, anyway.”

She led him through the overly warm house and to a screened-in patio where she indicated a wicker chair for Sam to sit on. “What can I get you?” she asked.

“Nothing, unless you’re having something yourself.”

“I should have had you come at five because that’s when I like to have a gin and tonic.”

“Don’t let me stop you. We can pretend it’s five o’clock.”

“No. I’ll wait. When you get to be my age it’s important to have set rituals.” She sat down across from him on an identical chair and crossed one leg over another. She was wearing white pants and a flowery blouse under a pink cardigan. She didn’t look much like Frank, Sam thought; for one thing, she was taller than he was, more weather-beaten, her face almost simian with all her wrinkles.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Sam said.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice gravelly, and Sam imagined that the deep lines on her face had been caused not just by Florida sun but by a lifetime of cocktail hours and cigarettes.

“Were you close?”

“No, we were never very close, but we never fought, or anything like that. I was the quiet, studious child, and he was gregarious, like both our parents. They all loved the hotel business, and I couldn’t think of anything worse. Imagine living somewhere where there are constant houseguests. As soon as I could I moved to Boston and got a job at Houghton Mifflin—it’s a publishing company—and that is where I met my husband. Like me, he was content with a less sociable life. We never had children, but we sure read a lot of books.”

“Your husband is...”

“He died in 2003, just a few years after we’d moved ourselves permanently down here to Siesta Key. Frank made his only visit to see me right after Patrick died. He promised to come for another trip but never had the time, I suppose. That’s what happens when you run a hotel. Have you discovered who killed him, my brother?”

Sam, surprised by the sudden question, said, “No. But whoever did kill your brother is killing other people as well. Their names were all on a list together.”

“That makes some sense, because I struggled through a very hard-to-follow phone conversation with another policeman who asked me a list of names, none of which were remotely familiar to me.”

“Do you mind if I ask you again?” Sam said.

“What? The names? I don’t mind but I doubt any of my answers have changed.”

Sam recited the names—he had them memorized—and she appeared to think about each one, eventually telling him that the names meant nothing to her.

“I hope that’s not all you came down here to do,” she said.

“No, actually. I wanted to ask you about the history of the Windward, to ask you if you remember any scandals happening in its past, anything out of the ordinary.”

“When you say past...”

“It could be something that happened when you and Frank were kids, or something more recent, I suppose.”

“Let me think about that for a moment. You know, maybe I will have that gin and tonic a little earlier, just for today.”

“If you tell me how you like it, and where everything is, I’d be happy to make it for you while you think.”

“So long as you make one for yourself.”

“I’d be happy to,” Sam said, and she directed him to the kitchen. He crossed the terrazzo floor of the living room and entered the bright alcove. On top of a spotless countertop was a bottle of Gordon’s gin and a bottle of Publix brand tonic water. He found some nice highball glasses and made two drinks, bringing them back with him to the patio.

“This is a treat,” she said. “Being served my evening cocktail by a man.”

Sam settled back into his chair and took a sip of the drink. He was worried he’d made it too strong, but Cynthia took a sip as well, and declared it very good.

“Any thoughts?” Sam said.

“About the hotel’s history? Two, I suppose. They both happened while I was still living at the Windward so we’re talking ancient history at this point.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m interested.”

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