They drove separately to the café and found parking on the street. The place was crowded but they were able to snag a table near the front.

Timmins ordered a glass of ginger ale and Puller a Coke. It was after seven and the temperature was still in the mid-eighties and the ocean breeze had fallen away.

“Feels more like Hell than Paradise, doesn’t it?” said Timmins after they had gotten their drinks. She took a long sip of her ginger ale and sat back, looking a bit better.

“I take it you’re a transplant here?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your skin is too pale and you’re not used to wearing sandals, which for women down here are probably a daily accessory.”

She glanced down at her feet where the sandal straps had made several red marks against her skin.

He continued, “The longer you wear sandals the more your skin will toughen up.”

“You’re very observant.”

“The Army pays me to be.”

“I’m from Minnesota originally. Moved down here about six months ago. My first summer here. Minnesota can get hot in the summer, but nothing like this.”

“So why’d you come down?”

“My husband died. I’d never been out of the state. I was tired of long winters. A doctor I’d met was selling his practice and I’ve always had an interest in forensic pathology. When I found out the job also included being the district ME, I jumped on it.”

“And the place being named Paradise probably didn’t hurt.”

“The brochures were very attractive,” she replied, with a weary smile.

“So will you be heading back north?”

“I doubt it. Place grows on you. June through August it gets crowded and the heat and humidity are pretty bad, but the rest of the year is quite nice. I could never take a walk in shorts in February in St. Paul.”

Puller leaned forward, officially ending the chitchat session. “My aunt?”

“You saw the body.”

“How do you know that?”

“Carl Brown over at Bailey’s told me. We’re friends. Local doctor and the funeral home in Florida get very close. Lots of my patients die. Old age catches up with everyone at some point.”

“I saw the body.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“I checked you out, Agent Puller. I have some contacts at the Pentagon. My brother is in the Air Force. I was informed that you are absolutely terrific at what you do and that tenacity doesn’t come close to describing your intensity when on the hunt.”

Puller sat back, gauging the woman in a different light now. “There was a bruise on her right temple.”

“I saw that. There was also a slight bloodstain on the stone surround at the fountain.”

“So cause and effect. But what made her fall? Did she stumble or did she have a heart attack or stroke or did an aneurysm pop?”

“None of the above. She was in remarkably good shape, at least internally. Heart, lungs, other organs disease-free. She had bad osteoporosis and a curved spine but that was about it. She died from water in the lungs. Asphyxiation, technically.”

“So what made her fall?”

“She was using a walker, the ground might have been slick from some of the water from the fountain falling there. She goes down, hits her head, becomes unconscious, and drowns in twenty-four inches of water. It happens.”

“I wonder how often?”

“Once is enough in this case.”

“Nothing else suspicious on the body?”

“No defensive wounds, no ligature marks, no other bruising that would indicate someone had attacked her.”

Puller nodded. That corresponded to what he’d found. “Tox screens?”

“Won’t be back for a while. But I saw no signs of poisoning, if that’s where you’re going. And there were no indications of abuse of alcohol or drugs.”

“I think the most my aunt ever had was a glass of wine. At least that I remember.”

“The post bore that out. As I said, except for the spinal issues, she was in remarkable shape for someone her age. She had quite a few years left to go.”

“My aunt wrote a letter. In that letter she was concerned about something in Paradise. Any idea what she could have meant?”

“What sort of concerns did she have?”

“People not being who they seemed. Mysterious happenings at night.”

“Like I said, I just got here six months ago. I don’t know enough people to be aware if they are who they are or not. And mysterious happenings? If she counts parties of drunk guys and gals parading half-naked down the main strip at two a.m. as being mysterious then she’s got my vote.”

“So nothing else you can tell me?”

“Afraid not. I know it seems senseless, Agent Puller. But accidents do happen.”

“Yeah, they do.”

But what Puller was thinking was, If it was an accident, why are people in a Chrysler following me?

He wasn’t just spontaneously thinking this. He had just seen the car pass by the front of the café and stop near his Corvette. The window came down and he was pretty sure he saw a flash. They had taken a picture. Before he could even think of racing after them, the Chrysler drove away.

“Agent Puller, is everything all right?”

He refocused on her. “Everything’s cool.”

“I hope I was able to allay your concerns about your aunt.”

“I think my concerns are right where they should be.”

CHAPTER

24

AS PULLER WAS LEAVING the café his phone buzzed.

“Puller,” he said.

“Mr. Puller, this is Griffin Mason, you called my office about your aunt?”

Puller said, “That’s right. Can we meet tonight or is it too late?”

“I’m still at my office if you’d care to come by. You know the address?”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Puller got in the Corvette and was at the lawyer’s office two minutes early. It was in a former residential area where the homes had been turned into small businesses. It was two blocks off the water and Puller assumed the land was worth more than the houses. But then again maybe that applied to pretty much all the homes on this narrow strip of earth with bay water on the north side and warm Gulf water to the south. A late-model Infiniti coupe was parked in the concrete driveway.

The front door was unlocked and Puller walked into a small reception area. There was no one there. Puller assumed the hired help had long since departed.

“Mr. Mason?” he called out.

A door off the reception area opened and a short, flabby man stood there. He had on gray pinstriped pants, braces to hold them up, although his ample belly probably needed no help to do that, and a white starched dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had a short graying beard and his glasses were thick enough to be called Coke bottles.

“Mr. Puller?”

“That’s me.”

“Please come in.”

They settled in Mason’s office, which was comfortably furnished in leather and soft, dark woods. A bookshelf held a staggering number of weighty legal tomes, and file folders were stacked against walls and also covered his desk, where there was also a computer.

Puller said, “Business looks good.”

“Frankly, a trusts and estates lawyer in Florida is a no-brainer from a business point of view. You don’t have to be a brilliant attorney. You just have to be competent and have a pulse. The average age of my clientele is seventy-six. And they keep coming. I’ve had to turn business away even after hiring an associate two years ago. I might have to hire a second lawyer if things keep going that way.”

“Nice problem to have. Now, about my aunt?”

“Just as a legal technicality, could I see some ID please?”

Puller pulled out his cred pack and showed Mason, who smiled and said, “Your aunt spoke very highly of you.”

“I hadn’t seen her in a while.” As soon as he finished the statement he felt a pang of guilt.

“Well, it didn’t diminish one iota her admiration for you and what you’ve accomplished.”