Risky Business

woman, so their eyes stayed level easily. She smelled of the talcum powder and wore no cosmetics. Not Jerry’s type, he thought again. But there was something about the eyes. “That’s what he was, only most people never caught on.”
    “I’ve known others.” And her voice was flat. “Not so harmless, not so kind. Your brother was a nice man, Mr. Sharpe. And I hope whoever… I hope they’re found.”
    She watched the gray eyes ice over. The little tremor in her stomach reminded her that cold was often more dangerous than heat. “They will be. I may need to talk with you again.”
    It seemed a simple enough request, but she backed away from it. She didn’t want to talk to him again, she didn’t want to be involved in any way. “There’s nothing else I can tell you.”
    “Jerry was living in your house, working for you.”
    “I don’t know anything.” Her voice rose as she spun away tostare out the window. She was tired of the questions, tired of people pointing her out on the beach as the woman who’d found the body. She was tired of having her life turned upside down by the death of a man she had hardly known. And she was nervous, she admitted, because Jonas Sharpe struck her as a man who could keep her life turned upside down as long as it suited him. “I’ve talked to the police again and again. He worked for me. I saw him a few hours out of the day. I don’t know where he went at night, who he saw, what he did. It wasn’t my business as long as he paid for the room and showed up to work.” When she looked back, her face was set. “I’m sorry for your brother, I’m sorry for you. But it’s not my business.”
    He saw the nerves as her hands unclenched but interpreted them in his own way. “We disagree, Mrs. Palmer.”
    “Miss Palmer,” she said deliberately, and watched his slow, acknowledging nod. “I can’t help you.”
    “You don’t know that until we talk.”
    “All right. I won’t help you.”
    He inclined his head and reached for his wallet. “Did Jerry owe you anything on the room?”
    She felt the insult like a slap. Her eyes, usually soft, usually sad, blazed. “He owed me nothing, and neither do you. If you’ve finished your coffee…”
    Jonas set the cup on the table. “I’ve finished. For now.” He gave her a final study. Not Jerry’s type, he thought again, or his. But she had to know something. If he had to use her to find out, he would. “Good night.”
    Liz stayed where she was until the sound of the front door closing echoed back at her. Then she shut her eyes. None of her business, she reminded herself. But she could still see Jerry under her boat. And now, she could see Jonas Sharpe with grief hard in his eyes.

2
    L iz considered working in the dive shop the next thing to taking a day off. Taking a day off, actually staying away from the shop and the boats, was a luxury she allowed herself rarely, and only when Faith was home on holiday. Today, she’d indulged herself by sending the boats out without her so that she could manage the shop alone. Be alone. By noon, all the serious divers had already rented their tanks so that business at the shop would be sporadic. It gave Liz a chance to spend a few hours checking equipment and listing inventory.
    The shop was a basic cinder-block unit. Now and again, she toyed with the idea of having the outside painted, but could never justify the extra expense. There was a cubbyhole she wryly referred to as an office where she’d crammed an old gray steel desk and one swivel chair. The rest of the room was crowded with equipment that lined the floor, was stacked on shelves or hung from hooks. Her desk had a dent in it the size of a man’s foot, but her equipment was top grade and flawless.
    Masks, flippers, tanks, snorkels could be rented individually or in any number of combinations. Liz had learned that the wider the choice, the easier it was to move items out and draw the customer back. The equipment was the backboneof her business. Prominent next to the wide square opening that was only closed at night with a heavy wooden shutter was a list, in English and Spanish, of her equipment, her services and the price.
    When she’d started eight years before, Liz had stocked enough tanks and gear to outfit twelve divers. It had taken every penny she’d saved—every penny Marcus had given a young, dewy-eyed girl pregnant with his child. The girl had become a woman quickly, and that woman now had a business that