For Pete's Sake

by Shannon Esposito

  I deflated. “That obvious, huh?”

  She gave my arm a squeeze. “You’ll be fine. Just ignore everyone and have fun.”

  “Just have fun. I’ll try. Thanks.” Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed the men were all taking photos with camera phones. I fought the urge to flee.

  “Darwin! You’re up.”

  Too late.

  I felt my body obeying her. My feet shuffled through the sand toward the water and probable humiliation.

  “Let’s go, move it!” she yelled. “This light won’t last forever.”

  When my toes hit the water, I felt my body relax. I wasn’t worried about the psycho mermaid here—too many witnesses. So I let myself go, connecting with the water and feeding on that connection for strength and courage.

  As I turned and faced the camera, I tilted one hip down and lowered my chin like I’d seen Cindy do. A burst of flash from the camera encouraged me.

  “Good. Throw a hand on your hip.”

  The young, silent guy with the gold panel moved to my right and held it up a few feet from me.

  Did he mean to blind me? Don’t squint. I placed a hand on my right hip as Margie had asked. Now what? I tried to change my facial expression from a smile to something sultrier.

  “More sexy, less confused!” Margie barked.

  Just then, I tripped over my own foot and landed in the water. A collective “oooo” came from the crowd.

  Smooth, Darwin. I tried to play it off and threw my hand on my other hip, smiling again.

  Margie was shaking her head. “All right, Grace … while you’re down there let’s get you up on all fours. I got some nice backlighting on that platinum hair of yours.”

  When it was over, I plopped down in the sand wearing Mallory’s little black dress and watched the other girls finish up. I felt like I’d just been sideswiped and was trying to get my bearings. The other girls made it look so easy and none of them looked as emotionally wiped out as I now felt.

  Cindy stood over me, sliding a slinky silver dress over her bikini. “Hey, we’re heading over to party at Suite Six. You should come.”

  I pushed myself up and dusted sand off the dress. Spending time in a noisy club with a group of twenty-somethings wasn’t my idea of a good time. I just wanted to go home to my sisters, dog and a hot bath to scrub off the humiliation. But, it would give me a chance to ask everyone what they knew about Lincoln and Daisy so I reluctantly agreed. “Sure. Just give me a sec.”

  “Hey,” I said to Margie as she was packing up. “Thanks again for squeezing me in.” I was trying to think of some way to bring up Peter and coming up empty.

  “Yeah, sure.” She stood and hefted her large black camera bag over a shoulder. “Piece of advice?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  She shook her head slightly and then patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t quit your day job, Kid.”

  *****

  Walking into the club with five models felt like we were playing a game of “one of these things is not like the other.” It was the most self-conscious I’ve ever felt, especially after Margie Bealle’s parting advice. I swear a spotlight flicked on and the music came to a screeching halt as everyone turned to stare at us. I’m hoping that all happened in my head. Hard to tell.

  By the time we got to the bar, there was already a gaggle of men waiting to buy us drinks. I tried to order water, but a tequila shot was shoved into my hand … repeatedly. After the whirlwind shot-fest, Cindy pulled me out onto the dance floor. The music pounded through my body, making it feel like my heartbeat was outside myself. We were immediately engulfed in a sea of bodies, jerking and pulsing to the beat.

  “Loosen up!” Cindy yelled in my ear, laughing. Her breath smelled like tequila.

  I nodded and tried to imitate her hip movements. Mallory was wrong, some models do have hips.

  Someone’s hands came from behind and rested on my own hip bones. Then a sweaty body pressed into me.

  Startled, I whirled around.

  Just a random guy. I backed up a little out of his reach and bumped into another body. Claustrophobia was setting in.

  Through the crowd, there was one still figure on the edge of the dancing horde. Zach. How in the world did he always know where I was? I pushed my way through the hot, sweaty, pulsating mass of bodies, but by the time I broke free he was gone.

  Sighing, I forced my way through the smaller crowd at the bar and ordered a soda water with lime, then went to search for the other girls. I found three of them at a tall, round table, surrounded by hopeful suitors. I’d seen the same look on Goldie’s face when I pulled freshly baked treats out of the oven.

  I slid next to Malaika, the girl Daisy had introduced me to at Rachel’s party. “Great place. Having fun?”

  She sipped a glass of champagne and shrugged. “A bit crowded and loud for my tastes.”

  Good, the guys were buffering the dance music enough that we could hear each other.

  “Hey, you know Lincoln? That cute model that was at Rachel’s party?”

  Her head was bobbing to the music. “Yeah?”

  “Is he dating anyone that you know of?”

  She shook her head and smirked. “No, but you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. He’s turned everyone one of us down so we figure he must be gay.”

  “Too bad.” I feigned disappointment.

  Glancing around the table, I reached out my hand to the redhead, who was holding her hair up in a sweaty pile on top her head. “Hey, I’m Darwin.”

  She shook my hand firmly. “Bianca.” Her translucent skin was flushed and her light green eyes were glassy.

  Bianca?

  And then it hit me. Where I’d seen her before. She was the redhead in the photo on Peter’s dresser. “Sorry,” I said, realizing she was trying to pull her hand away. I moved around Malaika and squeezed in between her and Bianca. “Bianca Rubio?”

  She nodded and downed the rest of whatever was in her glass.

  A short man in a sweaty black button-down shirt took the opportunity to grab her glass. “What’s your pleasure, love?”

  She glanced over at him, distracted. “I’m leaving. Thanks anyway.”

  “Right. Next time maybe?”

  When she didn’t answer, he got the hint and sulked off.

  “That must get annoying,” I said, trying to start the conversation up again.

  “Only when they don’t take the hint, and I have to get rude.” She opened her tiny black bag on the table and took out Chapstick. After applying it generously to her peach-colored lips, she turned to me. “So, who’re you with?”

  I smiled. This time I knew what the question meant. “No one. I’m just starting out, actually. Trying to build up my portfolio. I wanted to use Peter Vanek. I heard such great things about him. But … you know. Such a tragedy. Did you know him?”

  Her green eyes glittered as she stared at me. A strong wave of emotion rushed through me like dry heat. I couldn’t tell what it was. Fear? Grief? Anger? “No. I didn’t.” Her mouth moved a bit more and then clamped shut. She scooped her tiny bag off the table. “Gotta run. Night, girls.”

  She pushed away from the table. The crowd swallowed her, and she was gone.

  I turned to Malaika. “Was it something I said?”

  She patted my hand sympathetically. “She was in love with Peter.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Saturday morning, I dragged my weary soul downstairs to open the pet boutique. It was so quiet in the empty space, just me and Goldie. I really missed Sylvia and her loud, happy enthusiasm for life.

  As I flipped the open sign around, I glanced down at Goldie. She was watching out the door expectantly, her tail a flag swooshing back and forth. Could she be missing Sylvia, too?

  “Don’t worry, girl. When she comes back, she’ll be Mrs. Sylvia Stark. Things will work out. They have to.”

  Goldie looked up at me—maybe a little skeptically, or I could’ve been projecting—and then went to lay beneath
the tea table where she could stare out the window.

  An hour later, Mallory walked through the door behind a well-dressed elderly couple and their two miniature gray poodles. I didn’t recognize the couple so I spent a moment showing them around the boutique. When I was done, I found Mallory at the tea table.

  She eyed me with a slight grin. Her green eyes were alight with humor. “Someone got in late last night.”

  “Yeah, I’m definitely too old for the antics of twenty-something models.” Sighing, I took Petey from her and snuggled my nose into his neck. I got my ear chewed on with baby vampire teeth for the effort, but I didn’t care. Nothing like puppy breath to relieve stress.

  She chuckled. “How’d the shoot go?”

  “As good as I thought it would, and I don’t ever want to talk about it. The photos will be burned when I get them.” I slid in the seat next to her. “But I went out dancing with the girls afterwards and I learned one of the models that was there, Bianca Rubio, was in love with Peter. But, that’s not her only connection. Will checked her out after seeing her name on the Fund-Me page Peter had set up, said she’s a hotel heiress worth a couple million. That windfall of cash he was expecting … it could’ve been coming from her. I left a message for Will last night. Hopefully he’ll get her in for an interview today.”

  I glanced around to make sure no customers were near enough to overhear our conversation. No use getting a reputation as a gossip. “Also, I didn’t get a chance to tell you … it turns out it’s Daisy’s father who owns the Snell Island house, so she has a legit reason to be there. No scandal or motive, unless her father doesn’t approve of her relationship with Lincoln … but even that seems a thin motive for murder. Will’s gonna have a chat with him today anyway and if nothing pans out there, he’s gonna bring Sassy White into the station for some questioning. He’ll show her the time-stamped photos Peter took of her mobile spay van. See if that gets her riled up enough to talk.”

  Frowning, Mallory scooped Petey back out of my arms and adjusted the blue “mama’s boy” t-shirt she’d dressed him in. “Sounds like Will’s got his work cut out for him today. I can’t believe you promised Sylvia y’all will have this all figured out by Monday. She actually looked a bit hopeful when she left, thanks to you.” Her expression was half admonishment and half pity.

  I cringed inwardly. “I know. Not the smartest thing for me to say. I just hope Grandma Winters was right when she said the universe conspires to help us. We need all the help we can get.”

  Mallory seemed to soften. “Well, she usually is right.” She reached out and gave me an uncharacteristic hug. “All right, I’ll take the dogs for a potty break. You deal with Mr. Ostermeyer.” She jerked her head toward the man who was slowly shuffling toward the counter and whispered, “Last time he was in, he kept calling me Dottie and tryin’ to hug me. And he smells like mothballs.”

  I gave her a chastising half-smile. “That was his wife’s name. He’s harmless, just a little dementia. Go on. I’ve got him.” I clipped Goldie’s leash on for Mallory, gave my dog some vigorous scratches under her ears and then added, “And stop carryin’ Petey around everywhere, you’re spoiling him rotten.”

  She snatched Goldie’s leash from me. “Whatever. That’s what these tiny dogs are good at. Being spoiled.”

  Frankie came through the door a few minutes after Mallory left. I was just ringing Mr. Ostermeyer up for five cans of cat food. Unfortunately, his cat Precious was no longer with him, but in his less senile moments it made him happy to believe she was. Who was I to take that away from him?

  I handed him his bag. “You take care of yourself and Precious now, Mr. Ostermeyer. It’s hotter than the devil’s armpit out there.”

  “You always did worry too much, Dottie.” Reaching a wobbly hand across the counter, he squeezed my hand. Then he smiled a toothless smile. “I’ve made it this far.”

  “You sure have.” I looked over at Frankie with a grin after he left. “I think he forgot his teeth today.”

  She chuckled. “Could be worse. Could’a been his pants.” She motioned me over to the table. “So, come fill me in. What’s goin’ on with the investigation? I got a call from Sylvia giving me the okay to plan the wedding for Monday night?” Her eyebrows shot up. Her eyes sparkled with both amusement and worry.

  I groaned and plopped down on the chair across from her. “I might’ve promised her that Will and I would serve up Peter’s murderer by then.”

  She stared at me like I might need a padded room. “Hope can be a dangerous thing, Darwin. Especially for someone in the shape she’s in. And Landon’s not much better off, let me tell you. I ran into him in Publix yesterday. He was just standing there in the frozen section, starin’ at a bag of peas in his hand.”

  Well, that made me feel like dirt. I shoved my hands into my hair, the panic quickening my heartbeat. “Oh good heavens, Frankie. What have I done? This is such a mess. What if we can’t do it? What if she gets this wedding planned … once again … and it falls apart … once again. That seems like too much for anyone to bear. And this time it’ll be my fault for making a promise I couldn’t keep.”

  Frankie patted my arm. “I wish I could give you an answer, Darwin. Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want ‘em to. That’s life.”

  I felt the tears prick my eyes. Picking up a napkin, I dabbed beneath them to try and stop the overflow.

  “Oh, sugar.” Frankie folded her hands and scooted forward on the chair. “All right, tell me what you’ve got so far, maybe having someone with a fresh perspective will help see some connection you and Will have missed.”

  Nodding thankfully, I summarized all the information we knew so far for her and brought her up to speed on the thumb drive found in Petey’s bear.

  What else? “Oh yeah, also in the background of those photos, there’s a couple getting cozy in the front seat of a black sports car. The guy’s a vet tech from Southern Cross Clinic, the vet’s office where the sux went missing. His name is Lincoln and the girl’s his girlfriend, Daisy. It’s possible they’re involved somehow. But, we’ve talked to both of them and can’t find any reason they’d be upset Peter had photos of them together.”

  “So neither of them is a public figure or married?” Frankie asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope. The only person we can come up with who they could possibly be hiding from is Daisy’s father. Maybe he wouldn’t have approved of Lincoln for some reason. Plus, he’s got money so if Peter was blackmailing them with the photos, it’s possible Daisy was planning on getting the money from her father somehow. Obviously, she couldn’t tell him what it was for. I don’t know … seems like we’re reaching for straws. But what else can we do? Anyway, Will’s going to talk to Daisy’s father today and see if he knows about her relationship with Lincoln.”

  Frankie pursed her lips and frowned. “What makes Will think Daisy’s father wouldn’t approve? Is Lincoln some kind of derelict?”

  “No, not at all. Everyone seems to think he’s a stand-up guy, and he seems sweet as pie. But when you consider the fact that Peter might’ve been using those photos to blackmail somebody—and that’s where his windfall of cash was coming from—there’s only two possibilities. Either he’s blackmailing Sassy White with the time-stamped van photos or he’s blackmailing Daisy and Lincoln. Seems Daisy’s father is the only person in the equation with the kind of money worthy of blackmail. He’s got that big pink mansion on the Coffeepot Bayou with the huge live oak out front.”

  Well, there was Bianca, too. But, she had nothing to do with the photos on the thumb drive, and that had to be connected to all this somehow.

  Frankie tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “The house with that monstrous lion statue in the front yard?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  She shook her head slowly, her expression registering confusion. “But that’s Barron Vanderhall’s place.”

  “Yes. Vanderhall is Daisy’s maiden name. He’s her
father.”

  Her eyes widened, mascara-heavy lashes touching her penciled-on brows. “Wait, you’re talking about that Daisy? Pretty blonde about thirty?”

  “Yes?”

  “Oh Darwin.” Her hand went to her mouth as she shook her head slowly. “Barron isn’t her father.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I hated to leave Mallory to close up the boutique without me, especially with the crazy mermaid woman stalking us. But Willow’d agreed to come down and stay with her. Besides, this was an emergency. Will wasn’t answering his phone, and now I was worried about him, too.

  I glanced over at Goldie, who was buckled in the passenger seat of my Beetle convertible. The top was down, her ears were blowing in the breeze, and she was blissfully unaware of all the human drama going on. I probably should’ve left her with my sisters, but I didn’t feel like being alone right now. As I crossed the Snell Isle Bridge and rolled up to the stop sign, I groaned and rested a hand on her.

  “What if he’s gone over to Daisy’s and found out what Frankie just told me? What if he confronted her? And now he’s layin’ on her marble floor just like Peter?”

  Goldie’s head swiveled at the sound of my voice. She licked my bare shoulder. A bit of slobber, carried by the breeze, hit the side of my face. I wiped it absentmindedly with the back of my hand.

  “You’re right. Will is a trained detective. He’s smart and completely capable of dealing with whatever happens.” Still, he’s going into a situation with the wrong information.

  I mashed the gas pedal. I couldn’t believe she lied right to my face like that. “My father can’t see very well,” I imitated her, getting more and more angry.

  If she’d lied about that what else was she lying about? I was now questioning everything she’d ever told me. Why did she really put Petey in his travel bag? And when? Maybe that vision did happen on the morning of Peter’s death.

  I crawled down the tranquil, red bricked street; rolling past gated fences and giant mature oak and palm trees shadowing the manicured lawns. Braking, I parked between Daisy’s house and her neighbor’s—beneath the shade of an oak tree—hoping I wouldn’t be spotted by either party. I shut off the car.