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Rentals are hard to come by in Key West and I enjoy getting away from the busyness of Duval.”
    “I can understand that.”
    Detective Curry walked back toward the chair beside my desk, and I tried to distract him before he sat again. I still doubted he had come here purely for health reasons, so I gave him the hard sell—something I seldom do with potential customers whose business I value. “If you want to schedule a reflexology treatment today, I’ll check my calendar for openings.”
    “Please do. The doc is talking about rotor-cuff surgery?” He sighed. “I’d like to avoid that, if at all possible. What free times do you have? What’s your work schedule like?”
    Maybe he was for real after all. Or maybe he was, as Gram would say, catching two ’cuda on one bait shrimp—casing me out as a murder suspect and arranging for a treatment at the same time. The more hours he spent here getting treatments, the more opportunity he’d have to study my activities.
    “Usually, I see only four clients a day. Each treatment lasts an hour or a bit more for the first one, and it’s strenuous work.”
    “For your hands?”
    “Yes—for my hands.” I didn’t try to tell him about the drain on my body, on my soul, as energy flowed from my body into that of my patient. Few people understood that. “I like an hour’s rest between sessions.” I flipped over several pages of my appointment book. “When are you free? What hours are best for you?”
    “Do you offer evening appointments?”
    “No. My regular times are nine, eleven, one, and three and I take Wednesday afternoons off.”
    “When’s your next free time?”
    “How about next Saturday at three?”
    Detective Curry checked a pocket calendar. “That would work out fine for me.” He jotted the time and date onto his book, and I also gave him a business card with the time penciled on the back. Somehow I knew he’d remember his appointment. So would I.
    “I’ll see you then.” I moved toward the door, subtly trying to urge him to do likewise. But he had more questions.
    “Have you taken foot reflexology treatments that have helped you, Miss Moreno?”
    “Yes, of course. I found it hard to believe that foot manipulations could relieve back pain as well as prevent future stress. But it’s true. I won’t say reflexology healed me. It wasn’t a quick fix and the treatments didn’t work overnight.”
    “But they did make your back feel more comfortable?”
    “Yes. After a few weeks of treatments I could move about pain-free. I’ve felt fine now for several years. I wanted to pass this means of relief to others, so I earned my reflexology certificate and opened this office. Today people from all walks of life come to me to ease their aches, pains, and stress, and it pleases me to have found a way to help them and to earn enough to support myself, my boat, and my backcountry fishing habit.”
    “I’m looking forward to my appointment,” he said as at last he left my office.
    Once he drove out of sight, I drew the muslin drapery across the front window, reinforcing the CLOSED sign. For a moment I sighed and sat down at my desk. But when I closed my eyes, hoping for a few minutes of solitude, the image of Margaux’s body replayed on the screen of my mind along with the image of Jude walking down the street in that neighborhood where he didn’t belong. The morning’s happenings had left me drained of all energy, yet I almost welcomed talking to Gram when she tapped on my door.
    “What’s up, Keely?” Her earrings bobbed and her caftan swished as the sweet scent of cinnamon-flavored coffee wafted into the room with her. I closed the door quickly. “News announcer break into program.” Gram’s eyes grew wide. “He say Margaux Ashford dead. No more details. You know she dead? You find her? That be why detective here?”
    “Right.” I gave Gram all the details I had, knowing she wouldn’t be satisfied until I did. But I didn’t mention seeing