Due Justice Read Free Page B

white, with red and green bromeliads, bird of paradise and other tropical plants that grew in carefully cultured gardens here on Plant Key. White tablecloths; fuchsia napkins.
    Not the usual restaurant china, but Minaret’s best Herrend, Waterford and sterling flatware. All came with the house when we inherited it from George’s Aunt Minnie; now set flawlessly in ten place settings per table.
    Something truly spectacular was the ice sculpture on the head table. An eagle, its wings spread, and spanning more than four feet, majestically demonstrated the strength most AIDS patients lacked. Too bad the eagle would melt before morning; it’s never cold enough to keep ice frozen in Tampa overnight. Something else to be grateful for.
    I walked the length of both dining rooms; examined the flowers and the table settings. If there were flaws in the presentation, I couldn’t find them. Nor had I expected to.
    I flashed an “OK” sign across the way; George surveyed everything personally and barely noticed my appreciation.
    Everything about our home is astonishing to me still. Often, I marvel that we actually live here. George claims we can’t be evicted, but is that true?
    George’s Aunt Minnie married into the grand old building and bequeathed it to her favorite nephew when she died. Minaret, as it’s called, was built in the 1890’s to house Henry Plant’s family. Plant was constructing the Tampa Bay Hotel, now the University of Tampa, which he hoped would be a vacation Mecca for the rich and famous. He wanted to surpass his rival Henry Flagler’s magnificent Palm Beach construction.
    Henry placed Minaret to be admired like a sparkling solitaire presented on her private island.
    Originally too shallow for navigation and devoid of landmass, Hillsborough Bay was dredged to allow passage of freighters into the Port of Tampa. Henry Plant persuaded the Army Corps of Engineers to build the landmass for Plant Key at the same time they created Harbour Island and Davis Islands.
    Plant Key is marquis cut, about a mile wide by two miles long. Narrow ends face north toward Tampa and south toward the Gulf of Mexico. Key Bridge connects us to Bayshore Boulevard just north of Gandy.
    The locals, and New York society, dubbed the enterprise “Henry’s Ego,” but like everything else Plant did, his island and his home surpassed all expectations.
    Hard to fathom sometimes how much ostentatious wealth was accumulated and displayed in the days before income tax by those who were willing to live maybe just a bit outside the law.
    How lucky can one woman get? I have George, Minaret, a job I love, and I never have to wear parkas. Life is good. Damn good.
    Or it was.
    An hour ago.
    Before Carly’s bombshell.
    No time to dwell on that now. By concentrating carefully, I hoped to avoid thoughts of Dr. Michael Morgan, dead or alive, for the next eight hours. A foolish plan.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Tampa, Florida
    Wednesday 7:00 p.m.
    January 6, 1999
    WATER SPLASHED HARD AND fast into the enormous claw-footed tub in my bathroom like Yosemite’s Illilouette falls. Gotta love modern plumbing. I poured avocado oil bath gel in the water and while it bubbled into snowy white mounds, located piano nocturnes on the player and lit two gardenia-scented candles.
    Lowered gingerly into steamy water, head rested against bath pillow, stretched out my full five feet eleven and a half inches and wiggled ten toes. Eyes closed. Tried to stay in the present, blissful moment.
    No luck.
    Kept coming back to Carly, catastrophizing her situation. Mine, too.
    Inactivity is hard for me. My karmic purpose must be to learn patience. Regardless of how I redirected my attention, Carly and Dr. Morgan occupied my mind. The more I tried to push the problem into tomorrow like an earlier Southern mistress, the more the situation menaced.
    Both Carly and I could end up not only unemployed, but disbarred. Or worse.
    Scarlett O’Hara was