Tropical Heat by John Lutz

that; she used those words.”
    Carver wasn’t surprised. And he remembered that Edwina had told him that she and Willis met six months before. A mistake? An approximation? A lie? “What kind of words did Willis use?” he asked. “Did he seem educated? Did he use a lot of profanity? Did he say throwed and ain’t ?”
    “He seemed well educated, now that you mention it. And I don’t think I ever heard him curse. He seemed basically a good man, decent. That was how he struck people, as decent.”
    “What sort of things did he talk about?” Carver asked.
    “He talked about everything—but somehow without really saying anything. Yet he was interesting, even fascinating. He was great at cocktail parties.”
    “How did he treat Edwina?”
    “He was kind to her, attentive. Always the gentleman.”
    “Don’t you find it unusual that a savvy woman like Edwina would fall so hard and so thoroughly for a man after knowing him only a matter of months?”
    “Not at all,” Alice said. “It’s like that sometimes with some women, no matter how knowledgeable they are in other matters.”
    “Did you ever get the impression that Willis was using Edwina?”
    “Not in the sense you mean, not deceptively. She helped to get him his job at Sun South. Edwina’s the one who talked Ernie Franks into hiring Willis, but I wouldn’t call that using her.”
    “I guess not,” Carver said. “And I suppose he could have left her afterward.”
    “Actually, not right away,” Alice said thoughtfully. “From what I know of Ernie Franks, he might have thought badly of Willis if he didn’t stay with Edwina after getting the job at Sun South. Franks has the reputation of an honest, no-nonsense developer, a nice guy but no patsy. And that’s how he impressed me when I did some of the decorating for display units at Sun South. He even made me sign some kind of oath of integrity printed on a picture of the crucifixion.”
    “Did you meet Sam Cahill when you were at Sun South?”
    “Briefly. The fast-shuffle type. Full of glib talk and easy promises to get a client’s name on a contract. And he had big ideas. Wanted to get financing and start some kind of development of his own in central Florida.”
    “With Willis Davis as a partner?”
    “They talked about it. The usual slow-salesday gab to pass the time. I’m sure nothing ever came of it. I think they knew nothing would when they were tossing out their grand ideas.”
    “You’re the one who phoned the police about Willis’s disappearance,” Carver said.
    “Yes.” She told him about going to see Edwina, getting no answer at the front door, then walking around to the veranda and seeing the jacket and shoes at the edge of the drop.
    “What went through your mind at the time?” Carver asked.
    “There was something about the way he’d neatly folded the jacket and laid it on top of the shoes. Something final. As soon as I saw them near the drop’s edge, I thought he’d jumped.”
    “Do you still think so?”
    “Yes. I’m sorry about it—for Edwina, for Willis—but that’s what I think, that he’s dead.”
    Carver was running out of questions. Sometimes that was when he asked his best ones. “Is there anything in particular about Willis that sticks in your memory?”
    Alice considered that one, drawing again on the long filter-tipped cigarette and frowning. “No,” she said at last, slowly, “there’s nothing.” She raised her head slightly. “It was kind of touching, the way Edwina talked about him at times. She often referred to him as a gentle man. Not gentleman , but the two words separated.”
    “Considering her past treatment,” Carver said, “that’s not surprising.” He shifted his weight and moved his cane a few inches to the right; he’d been standing too long in one spot and was getting uncomfortable. His good leg was falling asleep. “Are you going to tell Edwina about this conversation?”
    Alice stared at him through a haze of exhaled smoke,