Moscow Mules & Murder

by Quinn Avery

  Eighteen

  I’d witnessed hundreds of Florida sunsets, but when the sky exploded behind the Destin hotel in a stunning array of pastels, I was filled with a sense of tranquility unlike any before. Exhaustion loosened my muscles as I watched young families splash around in the shallow end of the flamingo-shaped pool. When was the last time I’d allowed myself to truly relax? My life had become crazy in the search for Ginny. If Chief Shaw asked me to stay on at the station, I’d be forced to sit down with Smith for a heart-to-heart. While I wasn’t anywhere near ready to quit Beach Bummers, it wouldn’t be long before I’d be drained from working two full-time jobs.

  Once a chill bit through the evening air, I threw on my oversized Beyoncé t-shirt from her last tour, and headed to the hotel’s tiki bar. Nothing about it was as grand or as welcoming as Beach Bummers, and their burgers were lacking without Smith’s secret seasoning, but the bartenders and patrons were just as friendly, and the drinks were decent. Grayson reported in with several texts throughout the night to let me know they’d processed Ginny, and he likely wouldn’t arrive at the hotel until after midnight.

  Two and a half fuzzy navels later, I headed up to my room paid for by my new employer’s expense credit card. With the remainder of my last cocktail on the nightstand at my side, I scoured social media for Elizabeth Wells in Destin. For whatever reason, it felt like the respectful thing to do. I had seen her in death, and wanted to witness her living her best life.

  I quickly stumbled across a handful of pictures involving a blonde woman that had been made public, one involving Anton Wells’s unmistakable backyard. Ginny resembled her birth mother in many ways, sharing the same long legs, sharp cheekbones, and augmented chest. Elizabeth’s long, silky locks were a shade of honey that perfectly suited her fair complexion, and her eyes were the same brilliant blue as one of Ginny’s. She appeared youthful enough in the last post that she could’ve passed as Ginny’s sister.

  In most of the pictures, Elizabeth’s lips were pressed together in what Molly would refer to as a “constipated smile.” Nearly every shot was taken somewhere tropical with blue skies and crystal waters in the background. In a few she wore colorful dresses, and in others she wore provocative swimsuits. There were always sunglasses perched on her head, although never the same pair. Had she shown a natural smile, she could’ve been a successful influencer on social media. For all I knew about her, maybe she was.

  The very last image, a selfie, involved Elizabeth cocooned in the arms of a handsome, dark skinned man. They posed in front of the same set of Philippine waterfalls pictured on the postcard Glori had found among Ron’s belongings.

  I swiped my fingers over the mouse pad, letting the pointer hover over the picture. Another profile had been tagged.

  “Alejandro dela Cruz,” I read.

  Elizabeth beamed with a dazzling smile in the picture, flashing her teeth on full display. With tears stinging my eyes, I zoomed in on the image and moved it around until I spotted the corner of a gold tooth among her pearly whites.

  Rather than feeling exhausted, a fulfilling tiredness seeped into my bones. Elizabeth and Alejandro looked happy. It was the visual I wanted to forever associate with the woman I’d helped. With the truth brought to light, Alejandro would be able to properly mourn the loss of his “dearest Elizabeth,” and move on.

  For the first time in over a week, I slept like the dead.

  Once we boarded the private jet bound for Tampa the following morning, Grayson slept as hard as I had the night before. I logged into the plane’s wifi to let Molly know Ginny was alive and well. She tried to pressure me into revealing the identity of the woman they’d found on the island, but I was careful not to say anything. As we had checked out of the hotel and waited for our transportation to the airport, Grayson told me Elizabeth’s death would be plastered across national news once the reporters in Destin caught word of Ginny’s arrest.

  Grayson remained relatively quiet after we landed, and didn’t have much to say as he steered his Bronco toward the highway that would take us home. I tilted my head toward the warm sun and took in lungfuls at a time of the fresh air. As we neared the island, the atmosphere somehow felt different, as if my body had become attuned to my new home.

  After we crossed the first of many bridges in the final stretch, Grayson cleared his throat. “A judge in Destin released Ginny on the conditions that she relinquish her passports—both real and forged, and that she wear an ankle bracelet until her first hearing. The island’s prosecutor filed a request with a local judge for her to appear in our county court as soon as they’re able to transport her down. Unless her attorney and the prosecutor come up with an agreement, it could be a long, drawn-out process. I doubt the matter will go to trial, but I’ve been caught by surprise with other cases in the past.”

  “Do you still believe she won’t go to jail?” I asked, wrangling my wind-whipped locks into a knot on top of my head.

  “From what I understand, the prosecutor plans to hold off on any kind of sentencing until the forensic pathologists submit their final report on Elizabeth’s remains. If her death is ruled an accident, Ginny will most likely be sentenced to fines and some community service as punishment for not properly reporting her mother’s death.”

  “Do you think she was truthful about what happened with her mom and Travis Parker?”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Once she met with her attorney, she told the local detectives nearly the same story about Elizabeth’s death being accidental. And she asserts she had no knowledge of Travis’s allergy. The Destin police will re-investigate the circumstances surrounding his death before they rule whether or not her involvement was unintentional.”

  “How do you know whether or not she was throwing Ron under the bus when she claimed it was all his idea to conceal Elizabeth’s death?”

  “She broke down in tears a few times, admitting she was in love with Ron, and would’ve done anything he suggested. I’ve worked with her type countless times. She’s not exactly weak, but she’s easily manipulated by others.”

  “Does that mean Ron will be in more serious trouble?”

  “That’s up to the prosecutor to decide.” Behind his sunglasses, he threw me a sideways glance. “Did you really tell Ginny it was okay to make a move on me?”

  “She wanted to know whether or not I cared if she asked you out.” Heat rushed to my face when I lifted both shoulders. “I said no.”

  He returned his gaze to the road, nodding thoughtfully. “So you won’t mind if I take her out once they remove her ankle bracelet?”

  My lips desperately tried to form a response. Grayson had agreed to a date with her?

  Then his serious demeanor cracked, and he let out a hearty chuckle. “Relax, Zoey. I just wanted to see you squirm the same way I squirmed when she asked me if I wanted to grab dinner sometime.” Amusement lingered in his grin. “Seriously, though. Why would you tell her that?”

  “Because I knew you’d turn her down.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “What made you so sure?”

  “I know you pretty well by now.” Turning away from him, I tapped my fingers on the side of his truck along to the Alice in Chains tune thumping from his speakers. “She’s not your type.”

  “Really?” he asked, his voice light with sarcasm. “Then who is?”

  “You seem to like cute, smart little monkeys who enjoy solving mysteries.”

  He let out a deep, rolling laugh that vibrated in my belly. “Cute little monkeys? Honestly, Zo. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  I turned to him with a pointed stare. “You forgot ‘smart’.”

  “Okay, fine. You have me pegged.” He lifted one hand in a gesture of surrender. “But if I’m going to take you out on that date like I promised, we have to agree on a few things.”

  My entire body thrummed. “Like what?”

  “As long as you continue to work at the station, we have to keep it professional whenever either one of
us is on the clock. I don’t want the chief to know we’re seeing each other—at least not for now.”

  “Agreed.” I nodded eagerly. “I promise I’ll control myself.”

  “Most importantly, we can’t rush this thing. Even if we make the mutual decision to become inclusive, I’m not ready to make any big commitments. I moved too quickly with Bexley, and her rejection left a pretty big scar.” Eyes dancing with mischief, he glanced over at me. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to give Lucky any mixed signals about his daddy and mommy getting together.”

  “His best interests come first,” I agreed with another teasing nod.

  “And now that you have this bug to ‘solve mysteries’ as you said, you have to promise you won’t lie or hide anything significant from me regarding a case or your safety.” His stern gaze held mine. “That condition is a deal breaker.”

  “I could keep telling you I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face, but I’m starting to understand it’s going to take a significant gesture on my part for you to trust me again.” Turning sideways in my seat, I set my hand on the seat behind him. “I won’t let you down.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.” He caught a wayward red strand of hair in his fingers, giving it a light tug. “Stop referring to yourself as ‘cute’. The smart, playful woman with a big heart that I look forward to spending more time with is clearly beautiful.” He threw me a gorgeous smile that made my heart screech to a halt. “It’s an injustice to call the Zoey Zastrow I know anything less.”

  Quinn’s Blueberry Moscow Mule

  Muddled blueberries (I smash a few in the bottom of the cup with the mint leaves, and save some for embellishments.)

  1 or 2 mint leaves (super optional…I never have any on hand.)

  Ginger beer (I like to use diet so I can tell myself at least I’m “drinking healthy. ” Also, you can substitute ginger ale with ginger beer, but the flavor won’t be as strong.)

  A splash of juice from a lime (save a wedge for the rim of the mug.)

  Blueberry vodka (Western Son is my favorite! Depending on your level of party mode, use one or two shots, and fill the rest with ginger beer.)

  Directions: Mix ingredients together in a copper mug or any other kind of glass. Drinking from a copper mug is awesome as they keep your mule ice cold, but they aren’t 100% necessary. Full disclaimer, I’ve read long-term use of copper can cause health problems, but not all copper mugs have the potential to be poisonous. (More on this)

  * * *

  Kick back and enjoy with a friend or your favorite female sleuth!

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  QUINN AVERY is a bestselling and award winning author from the Midwest with over 30 novels published under various pen names.

  www.QuinnAvery.com

  email: quinn@quinnavery.com

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Najla Qamber for coming up with the coolest cover ever! I adore working with you, and love how you were able to give me exactly what I had envisioned!

  Thank you to Lisa Frommie and Rena Zierke for your constant willingness to answer my odd technical questions!

  Big thanks to Corrie Hanson and Christy Freeberg for your willingness to be my constant lab rats!

  Thanks to Jodi Henley for your expertise!

  And finally, biggest of thank yous of all to my husband, kids, other family and friends for always supporting my career!