Moscow Mules & Murder

by Quinn Avery

Outside of a four-level monstrosity that could’ve easily been mistaken for a luxury hotel, Risky parked at the curb.

  “This is it?” I asked, eyeing the stone pillars and turrets beyond a reflecting pool in the center of the stone driveway.

  “This was Anton’s estate,” Risky confirmed. He grabbed a soda can from the cupholder, spitting a gob of dark saliva inside. “Unless you need me, I’ll wait out here.”

  “We’re going to take our time canvassing the neighborhood,” Grayson told him as he pulled on the passenger’s door lever. “Go ahead and take off. I have your number in case I can think of any other questions for you.” He motioned to the file tucked under his arm. “I’ll bring this back to you in the morning.”

  “Good luck!” Risky called out as I exited the vehicle and walked around to join Grayson. A sense of doom washed over me as we watched Risky pull away.

  Grayson nudged my side. “You all right?”

  Although my stomach was in knots, I answered with a firm nod. I followed his lead through the property’s open gate, making a note of the name engraved on a plaque secured to the iron gate. “Anita Wellington.”

  “Anita must be one wealthy woman,” Grayson commented.

  We continued to hike across the long stone driveway, veering around the reflection pool in which a set of swans bathed themselves. “Rich people spend their money on the weirdest things,” I muttered while gaping at the beautiful creatures.

  Grayson didn’t hesitate in climbing the grand steps leading up to a set of double doors. He didn’t have a chance to knock before they swung open. My gaze swept over a woman’s large chest spilling out from a tiny pink bikini, and connected with a set of mismatched eyes.

  “Ginny,” I gasped.

  Seventeen

  “Ginny?” the beautiful brunette repeated with quick, high-pitched laughter. Her slender legs shifted several times. “Honey, I’m afraid you have the wrong address. There isn’t anyone named Ginny at this residence.”

  I tilted my head. What were the chances a different woman had the same unusual eyes as Ginny and the late, great Bowie? “But your—”

  She interrupted with a curt, “Nope. Sorry.”

  She had to be lying. “What about—” I protested.

  “Nuh-uh.” she snapped. “Still not her.” She offered Grayson a hand dripping in brilliant gemstones. “The name’s Anita Wellington. I’d love to make your acquaintance, you gorgeous man.”

  “Detective Grayson Rivers,” he answered in a formal tone, giving her hand a quick shake.

  The woman’s thick eyelashes fluttered against her sharp cheekbones. “I assure you I’m a law-abiding citizen,” she teased with a short, jerky shake of her head. “What on earth could a detective want with little ol’ me?”

  “I’m hoping you might be able to answer some questions we have about this property’s previous owner, Anton Wells.”

  The woman’s blood-red fingernails fanned over her chest. She feigned a cartoonish expression worthy of the actresses on one of Teenie’s soap operas. “I’m afraid I never knew Mr. Wells, god rest his soul. The only contacts I had when purchasing this property involved his estate’s attorney and the realtor.”

  Judging by her smooth, youthful skin, she was around Ginny’s age—despite the effort to make herself sound like a senior citizen. She may not have been blonde the way everyone remembered, but a change of hair color was the easiest disguise for someone who didn’t want to be found.

  Fingers coiled around Grayson’s tattooed arm, I tugged until he bent to my level. “Remember how Sasha said Ginny had mismatched eyes, like David Bowie’s?” I frantically whispered. “And this woman has a…uh…you know…”

  When he titled his head in question, I made an exaggerated motion toward my chest.

  “Right,” he whispered back. “I was thinking the same thing. Follow my lead.” He swung his gaze back to the woman. “You’re saying you never met Mr. Wells’s daughter, Elizabeth, or his granddaughter, Ginny? I believe his granddaughter would’ve been in control of the estate at the time of the sale.”

  The woman’s mismatched eyes flickered upward as she slipped a hand inside her long, dark locks to scratch her scalp. “I did notice a stunning young woman waiting in the attorney’s office at the time of the sale. I didn’t catch her name, though.” She gave an aggressive shake of her head, ruffling her dark hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you and your cute little friend, detective. If you’ll excuse me, the sunshine’s calling my name.” Stepping back, she began to close the doors in our faces. “Have a wonderful day!”

  Grayson’s foot shot out, prying the doors back open. “Not so fast.” He plucked the postcard from his jacket, and held it up between them. “Maybe there’s something you can tell me about this.”

  Every ounce of color swept from the woman’s face. “W-where did you get that?” she whispered. With a trembling hand, she reached for it.

  “Why don’t you tell us, Ms. Wellington,” he replied, allowing her to take the postcard. “Or should I say, Ms. Jones?”

  Her shoulders rounded, erasing her perfect posture. “I hoped this gig would last a little longer before I was forced to take on another persona,” she responded in a dull tone. “I mean, look at this place. Who in their right mind would want to leave?” She snarled in my direction. “Who are you, and how in the hell did you know it was me?”

  Grayson cut in before I had a chance to answer. “There’s a warrant out for your arrest, Miss Jones. Unless you have a good explanation behind the death of the woman Ron Finkle buried on your behalf, I’m afraid I have to take you in.”

  With sweeping arm gestures, she nudged the doors open wide. “You may as well make yourselves comfortable.”

  The property’s backyard put every resort I’d ever set foot on to shame. Among a meticulously groomed collection of swaying palm trees and white quartz sand, a massive infinity pool and nearly equally sized hot tub overlooked the sparkling blue Gulf of Mexico. Dozens of white hammocks hung beneath endless bulb lights and lanterns. Contemporary teak furniture with white cushions surrounded the pool, many arranged beneath white cabanas stocked with bars and flat screen televisions.

  Wrapped like a burrito inside a white terrycloth robe, Ginny let out a long, low sigh as she plopped onto a couch across from us. “What happened that night was an accident. You can ask Ron. He saw everything.”

  “Who was she?” I blurted from Grayson’s side, vibrating from head to toe. “It was your birth mom, wasn’t it?” I was well-aware I shouldn’t insert myself into an official interrogation, but the intensity was enough to make my heart burst. “How’d she die?”

  Ginny tipped her head back and released a youthful giggle. “Aren’t you an eager little thing? Hoping to get an ‘A’ on your homework assignment?”

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Grayson suggested, stilling my bouncing knee with one hand. “When did your grandfather pass away? When did you last work at Beach Bummers?”

  A fair-haired muscular man with a neatly groomed beard entered our circle of furniture, presenting Ginny with a cocktail glass. A blue cocktail parasol embellished the orange liquid. The man only wore a black satin Speedo, and a matching bowtie. My jaw may have dropped a little when I caught sight of his tanned, tight buns.

  “Your afternoon drink, beautiful,” he told Ginny in a thick Australian accent. “Would you like me to fetch two more for your mates?”

  “None for us,” Grayson answered, lifting a hand.

  “That won’t be necessary, Liam.” Ginny took the glass and watched with delight as the man bent down. His lips brushed over each of her cheeks. “Thank you, my love,” she told him.

  “My pleasure,” he chirped. Before strutting away, he tossed a flirty wink in my direction.

  The question heavy on my mind tumbled from my lips before I could sensor myself. “Do you make everyone on your staff dress like Chippendales dancers?”

  Grayson’s grip tightened on my knee.

/>   “Liam’s my live-in lover,” she answered with a coy smile. “Well…one of them, anyway.” Her mismatched eyes traveled down to where Grayson’s fingers made an indentation in my skin. “Are you going to sit there and tell me this beautiful man of yours doesn’t dress for you in a way that’s pleasing to your eyes?”

  Grayson coughed and recoiled his hand with the speed of someone who had been physically burned.

  “He’s not ‘mine’,” I blurted, frustrated with the warm glow of an oncoming blush that filled my cheeks.

  Ginny’s smile grew as she arched back, tapping her long nails against the back of the couch. I didn’t like the way she eyeballed Grayson with a new appreciation. “What a shame.”

  “How about that timeline, Miss Jones?” he prodded, retrieving a small notepad from inside his sports coat.

  “Oh yes.” Her smile slipped. “I believe my grandfather died around a month before I last worked for Smith.” She paused to take a sip of her drink with a faraway look. “I think it’s been around five and a half years since I left the island.”

  Grayson scribbled something down. “Why did you leave the island?”

  One of her hands rolled through the air. “I had no other choice. I was afraid no one would believe I hadn’t committed murder.”

  “Why wouldn’t they believe you?” Grayson asked.

  I scooted forward on the couch, sensing all of my questions were about to be answered.

  “Because it was no secret to anyone that she hated me!” Ginny snapped. Her symmetrical features creased with a deep frown. “Everyone knew she had contested my grandfather’s will! How would it look if the police had learned she’d died after she’d come down to the island, demanding I give her every last cent he’d left to me!”

  The truth clicked into place. “It was Elizabeth Wells,” I confirmed, touching my stomach. “And Ron hid her body.”

  “That wasn’t my idea!” She bolted to her feet, spilling half of her drink down the front of her robe. “But what else could I do? That woman was a raving lunatic! She couldn’t accept the fact that her father loved his abandoned granddaughter more than his spoiled brat of a daughter! It was her own damn fault when she tripped and fell! If she hadn’t, she likely would’ve given herself a heart attack with all that jealous rage!”

  “You’re saying you never laid a hand on her?” Grayson confirmed.

  “No!” Tears leaked down Ginny’s cheeks as she repeatedly shook her head. “I didn’t touch her even though she kept pushing me over and over! She promised her lover that they’d build a castle on some tropical island, and she refused to leave until I handed over the money so she could fulfill her promise!”

  With a gentle look, Grayson held one hand up. “Take a breath, Miss Jones. I can understand this must be upsetting. Why don’t you walk me through everything you did after you realized Elizabeth was dead?”

  She heaved a stuttering sigh and wiped the tears from her face. Her knees wobbled as she slowly lowered back down to the couch. “I had never met my real mom until that night. I was so excited when I first laid eyes on her. How could I not be? We looked so much alike—she was gorgeous. Then she started yelling. And let me tell you, that woman could yell. I dodged a bullet when she gave me away. Groundings by her would’ve been nothing less than pure torture.” Her knuckles dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I was so relieved to see Ron until he caught her by surprise. Let me tell you, when she fell, her face flattened like a pancake. I’d never seen anything so horrifying.” Grimacing, she paused to throw back the rest of her drink. “Once I realized she wasn’t getting back up, I started to call nine-one-one. Ron stopped me, said they’d never believe it was an accident. I must’ve gone into shock at that point. I merely watched helplessly while he checked her pockets for anything that would reveal her identity. All he came up with was that postcard and a key to the car she’d driven down to the island. That’s when he told me to leave the island, and never come back.”

  Grayson frantically scribbled without glancing away from the notebook. “What’d he do with the body?”

  “I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know. I never spoke to Ron again. A few months later, my grandfather’s attorney got a call from the Destin airport saying Elizabeth’s car needed to be removed from long term parking. There must’ve been a mixup on the flight because they claimed her name showed up on the manifesto.”

  Grayson’s eyes met hers. “Did your grandfather’s attorney help you become Anita Wellington?”

  “I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.” Her breath caught with a forced laugh. “I’m an extremely wealthy woman, Detective. I can buy whatever my heart desires. My grandfather didn’t want my mother to know we spent time together, so no one in his world really knew me. I was essentially hiding in plain sight.” Her thick, butterfly-like lashes fluttered as a sassy grin puckered her lips. “I could arrange for anything to become a reality. If you ever had an inkling to run away and start a new life, I could make that happen with the snap of my fingers.”

  “Is that an attempt at a bribe?” Grayson asked, molars clenched.

  “Of course not!” Still grinning, she narrowed her eyes. “I’m just saying a woman on the run can get lonely at times. Besides, I didn’t kill Elizabeth. I have nothing to hide now that the truth is out in the open.” She dug her fingers inside the empty cocktail glass and fished out a macadamia nut. “Seriously, Liam!” Clicking her tongue, she chucked it into a floral bush. “He knows I despise these things!”

  Grayson’s gaze surveyed the bush. “What was that?”

  “A macadamia nut.” Appearing agitated, she shrugged. “So what?”

  With a rush of adrenaline, I straightened my spine. “Wait! Are you drinking a Nutty Ocho Rios?”

  Ginny’s eyes lit with amusement. “After you graduate high school, you’d make an excellent cocktail waitress.”

  I pivoted around to face Grayson. “They’re made with macadamia nut liqueur.”

  Grayson’s brow lifted in Ginny’s direction. “Does Liam offer that same drink to all your guests?”

  “Duh—they’re my favorite!” She titled her head. “Want one?”

  “Have you ever met Travis Parker with Parker Investigations?” he asked.

  “Why yes.” She lifted her hands before lacing them together. “Matter of fact, he was just here the other day.”

  Grayson motioned to her glass. “Did he drink one of those?”

  “Not while he was here, but he took one for the road.”

  I exchanged a wide-eyed look with Grayson. Ginny may have been guilty of other things, including keeping her birth mother’s accidental death a secret, but it seemed she hadn’t intentionally murdered anyone. The knot in my chest loosened.

  Ginny’s svelte lips gaped. “Hold on. Is that how you found me? Did that sleaze-ball go against our agreement to keep my identity on the down-low? I paid him rather handsomely to keep his mouth shut!”

  “Mr. Parker is unable to break your agreement,” Grayson assured her with a firm shake of his head. “He died from a nut allergy.”

  Her hand flew to her open mouth. “Oh my god! And you think—” Lips screwed together, she wove both of her arms around her waist. “You know what? I’m not saying another word until I speak with my attorney.”

  “Suit yourself.” Grayson stood, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Regardless, you’ll need to come along with me to the local police station. If everything you said is true, you shouldn’t have too much to worry about aside from a few misdemeanors. Someone with your clean record will most likely get off pretty easily.” He retrieved his phone from inside his sports coat. “Stay put while I make the arrangements.”

  “Well this sucks.” Slouching deeper into the couch, Ginny’s eyes honed in on me the moment he walked away. “What are you? The next generation of Jump Street?”

  Hands lifted at my sides, I stood. “Actually, I’m just a cocktail waitress from Beach Bummers. Smith hired me a fe
w years after you disappeared.”

  Her heavily bronzed cheeks rounded with a wide smile. “How is that old stud muffin? Does anyone else I would know still work there?”

  “Smith’s his same old ornery self. And both Finn and Sasha are still around. I’m sure they’d send their regards.” My eyes flickered down to her chest peeking out of her robe. “They definitely remembered…ah…you.”

  “Finn?” she squealed, clapping with the energy of a baby seal. “Oh my god! How is that beautiful man? Is he still single?”

  “I doubt he’s changed any since you’ve seen him.”

  “You’ll have to tell him hello from me! Or maybe I should come see him.” She nibbled on a perfect fingernail. “What do you think? Do you think he’d want another hookup?”

  “I think you’ll have a chance to see him in person real soon.”

  I caught Grayson watching us, a corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. Ducking my head, I doubted I should’ve been carrying on any kind of lighthearted conversation with his detainee.

  Ginny let out a dreamy sigh. “If you’re not really with that yummy detective, do you mind if I make my move?”

  I told myself it wouldn’t be polite to laugh. It must’ve taken some nerve to be in her position and assume something so bold. Lifting my eyebrows, I turned to her. “Liam wouldn’t mind?”

  “His work visa expires soon, and I’ll be back on my own.” One of her shoulders lifted to her chin. “I wasn’t kidding about being lonely.”

  “In that case, go for it.”

  I bit back the start of a smile as I turned away from her and started for Grayson. I wanted to put as much distance between myself and Ginny as possible.

  Grayson muttered something into his phone before slipping it back into his pocket and meeting my gaze. “The local PD will be here soon to bring her in. I’ll ride along with them, and a uniformed officer will take you to the hotel.”

  My lungs heaved with a calming breath. “It’s finally over.”

  He looped an arm around my back and gave a gentle squeeze. “You did good, kiddo.”