Sea Change

Kelly Cruz nodded. The maid backed off the terrace.

Kelly Cruz watched an ornate white cruise ship plod fatly south in the bay. She had never been on a cruise, but she couldn’t imagine it was much fun.

“Miss Cruz? Nice to see you again.”

Kelly Cruz put her tea down and stood.

S E A C H A N G E

“Mr. Plum,” she said. “Mrs. Plum.”

Everyone shook hands.

“Sit down,” Mr. Plum said, “please.”

The Cuban maid appeared with iced tea for the Plums.

“That will be all, Magdalena,” Mrs. Plum said. “Thank you.”

The first time she’d met them, Kelly Cruz thought they looked like brother and sister. Mrs. Plum had thick silver hair brushed back, and very large sunglasses. Her skin was evenly tanned. She was slim and wearing a white silk shirt with white linen slacks and sandals. Her toenails were polished. Early sixties, Kelly Cruz estimated. Both of them. Mr.

Plum looked like his wife. Silvery hair, brushed back, even tan, dark glasses, white shirt and slacks. Mr. Plum smiled at Kelly Cruz.

“Did I tell you when you came by last time?” he said.

“That you’re quite attractive for a detective.”

“It’s a disguise,” Kelly Cruz said.

Mr. Plum smiled widely and nodded in a way that made Kelly Cruz think he hadn’t understood what she said.

“Do you have any new information about Florence’s death,”

Mrs. Plum said.

“I need to ask you some more questions, tell you some things we have learned,” Kelly Cruz said, “and get your comments. Not all of the things will be pleasant.”

“Must you?” Mrs. Plum said. “Don’t you think we may have heard enough unpleasant things?”

“She has to do her job, Mommy,” Mr. Plum said.

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R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“Do you know a man named Thomas Ralston?” Kelly Cruz said.

Mr. Plum looked thoughtful for a time.

Then he said, “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Mrs. Plum?” Kelly Cruz said.

“He’s one of the crowd of pimps and gigolos that Florence knew.”

“Florence? Are you sure, Mommy? I don’t remember him.”

“You remember only what you want to,” Mrs. Plum said.

“And I’m not your mother.”

Mr. Plum smiled at his wife.

“Which was he,” Kelly Cruz said.

“I don’t know. He had money. He owned a yacht. That was enough for Florence.”

“How did he get his money?”

“Wise choice of parents,” Mrs. Plum said. “Or, more likely, grandparents.”

She glanced briefly at her husband. Perhaps he wasn’t a self-made man, either, Kelly Cruz thought. He smiled hap-pily at his wife.

“How well do you know him.”

“I’ve met him once or twice.”

“So you don’t know him well?”

“To know him at all is to know him too well.”

“He doesn’t seem like a bad sort, Mommy,” Mr. Plum said.

“I thought you didn’t know him,” Kelly Cruz said.

“Mommy, Mrs. Plum, reminded me,” he said.

Kelly Cruz nodded.

1 3 2

S E A C H A N G E

“Any thoughts?” Kelly Cruz said.

“Me?” Mr. Plum said. “No. As I said, he seemed nice.”

“Where did you meet him.”

Mr. Plum looked blank. Mrs. Plum said, “Tennis club luau. Florence brought a bunch of people. We didn’t even know she’d be there.”

“Would you have gone if you’d known?”

“No.”

“Do you know where I could find Mr. Ralston?”

“I believe he lives aboard his boat,” Mrs. Plum said.

“In Fort Lauderdale?”

“He never said.”

Kelly Cruz nodded. She knew that Mr. Ralston’s boat was currently in Paradise, Massachusetts.

“We have in our possession,” Kelly Cruz said, “a videotape of Florence having sex with two men.”

Mrs. Plum squeezed her eyes tight shut and dropped her head. Mr. Plum looked faintly quizzical. Neither of them spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Kelly Cruz said. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Well,” Mr. Plum said, with a pleasant smile, “Florence was sort of wild, I guess.”

“Mrs. Plum?” Kelly Cruz said.

Mrs. Plum hadn’t moved. She appeared to be staring at her knees.

“I’m not surprised,” she said without looking up.

“Would you know what the circumstances would be that would . . .” Kelly Cruz stopped.

1 3 3

R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“Cause her to do something like that?” Mrs. Plum said.

“Too much money, too much freedom, too little super-vision . . . too little love.”

“But you don’t know of any, ah, commercial enterprise that she might have been involved with?”

“Oh my God, no,” Mrs. Plum said. “Nothing that smacked of work. She would have done it because it was shocking, or depraved, or unconventional. Maybe because she thought it was fun. But never work. Never anything as worthwhile as commercial enterprise.”

Mr. Plum seemed to have lost interest.

“It’s not an investigative question, Mrs. Plum, but I have two children, and . . .”

“And you can’t imagine giving up on them so completely.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes, I did. God save me, I do. But I had to make choices.

I have two other daughters, much younger. I couldn’t let her corrupt them as she had been corrupted.”

“By whom,” Kelly Cruz said.

Still staring down at her knees with her eyes shut, Mrs.

Plum said, “See above.”

“Too much freedom, too little love?” Kelly Cruz said.

Mrs. Plum nodded. Mr. Plum was looking at his watch.

“You know, it’s after five somewhere,” he said.