by Lucy Quinn
Cookie sighed. She supposed she should take it as a good sign River was making a show of friendship, being that Cookie was an uptight corrupt officer of the law and all. But she’d had practice turning down such an offer with Winter and Rain. “Smells like a lovely strain, but no, thanks. I’m good with the tea.”
River offered the weed to Dylan, but when he refused, she said, “Your loss.”
“I’m sure it is,” Dylan said with a nod.
“Well,” River put the joint down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “What can I do for you? I’m assuming you’re not here for a scarf.”
“No, you’re right about that,” Cookie said. “We’re actually here to ask you about Hank Romero. He said you two had words. Can you tell me about it?”
River narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
Dylan and Cookie shared a hesitant glance. Then Cookie sighed. “I’m a deputy for the island police force and have been asked to lead the investigation into the barge explosion.”
River grabbed the joint and quickly stood up. “You need to go now.”
“But—” Cookie started.
“Out.” River point to the canvas door. “I don’t talk to the fuzz.”
Cookie and Dylan stood, but they didn’t move toward the door.
“I’m not the fuzz,” Dylan said, giving her a conspiratorial smile. Then his expression softened, and Cookie could’ve sworn she saw him wink at her. Cookie rolled her eyes, especially when River returned his smile with a flirty one of her own.
“No, you definitely don’t look like one of those dweebs who work for Loon.” River wrapped her hands around Dylan’s biceps and let out a low whistle. “I bet these guns are thicker than the thighs on those rent-a-cops in town.”
Okay, Cookie thought. Now that was kind of funny. But she kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt the magic Dylan was sprinkling all over River.
“I do get my workout most days. It’s all the porches I rebuilt this year for the island residents.” Dylan said with a nod.
River sighed as if she were imagining Dylan swinging a hammer. “I could use a deck. Want to do some work for me?” Her tone was overly suggestive, and someone would’ve had to be deaf to not understand the implication.
Dylan cleared his throat. “That’s a kind offer, but I’m afraid I’m all booked up until late October. You’ll be gone by then, right? I could work on it over the winter if you want. Have it done by the time you show up next summer?”
Her flirty smile turned to a disappointed frown. “No. That’s… I think it can wait. Maybe next summer though?” She asked hopefully.
“Maybe,” Dylan said noncommittedly.
Cookie hid a smile. She had the best boyfriend on the planet.
Dylan took Cookie by the elbow and started to guide her toward the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a hushed whisper. “We can’t leave yet.”
“We’re not,” he said and when they got to the door he glanced back. “Oh, hey, River. I heard you hexed Hank. Is that true?”
The hippie woman threw her head back and laughed. “Yes. Yes, I did.” She pressed her fingertip to her lips, hiding an additional giggle. “He won’t be romancing the ladies any time soon, if you know what I mean.”
“Yikes,” Cookie said under her breath.
“How does that work?” Dylan asked, shifting uncomfortably as if he was imagining his man parts out of commission.
“I’m hoping it shrivels up and falls off, but more than likely he’ll just have trouble in the growth department for a while.” She smiled sweetly as if she hadn’t just said something shocking.
Goodness, Cookie thought. I bet she’s fun at parties.
“I see.” Dylan’s brow furrowed. “And why did you do that?”
“Because he’s ruining that land.” She gave Dylan an incredulous look. “Haven’t you seen it?” Before he could answer River, she continued her rant. “When I saw all those trees that were cut down, I was fuming. Just furious.” She let out a huff of disgust. “That’s the reason I hexed him.” Tears glinted in her eyes, and her voice cracked as she added, “Who does something like that? Killing all those beautiful trees.” River gulped as she tried to swallow down her need to cry.
“A jackhole who only cares about money?” Cookie asked tentatively, appealing to her anti-capitalist tendencies.
“Yes,” she said fiercely, her eyes flashing with anger. “That’s what he is. A jackhole with no conscience. I’m sure he’s breaking hundreds of zoning laws with that monstrosity. I’ve never seen a foundation dug so deep. Guys like him—” She shook her head in disgust. “It’s probably a bunker for the zombie apocalypse, and he’s planning on housing the zombies!”
“Bunker?” Dylan asked at the same time Cookie thought, zombie apocalypse?
“Yes, a bunker. It’s certainly not a root cellar, so I don’t know what else it could be. It’s so deep that I don’t see how that building isn’t going to have issues with frost heaves. Ever hear a slab of concrete crack in the dead of winter?” River shuddered. “It’s the earth crying, I tell you, and with good reason. Digging that deep is irresponsible. Unnecessary. And reckless of the city council to approve it. What the heck is the matter with this town?”
“That’s a good question,” Cookie said once she’d given River enough time to be sure she was done with her current rant. She’d learned from Rain that it was always good to let a hippy diatribe come to completion before introducing logic. “Do you mind telling us how you found out about how deep the foundation is?”
“I watched them build it,” River said, defiance in her dark eyes. But then she softened slightly and shrugged. “One might call it snooping.”
“Did you find anything else?” Dylan asked.
“Lots and lots of cameras. I swear, you’d think they were building Guantanamo with all that security.” She pulled the joint out of her pocket with shaky fingers, clearly worked up, and lit it again. After taking a hit, she blew out a long breath, apparently calm again, and asked, “Get what you came for?”
Cookie nodded. “Thank you, River. You’ve been very helpful.”
She huffed, perhaps unhappy more with herself for saying so much to the law. Then she looked at Dylan. “If you want to compensate me for my cooperation, you can always come out and chop my wood for me. I like muscles with my coffee first thing in the morning.”
Cookie gritted her teeth and pulled Dylan toward the door. “Thanks for your time, River. We’ll see you at the market.”
River waved and went back to her cannabis.
When they were outside, Dylan took a deep breath of fresh air and said, “Did she have incense burning in there?”
“Nope.” Cookie climbed into the truck, and when he joined her, she added, “That was her patchouli. Some use it to mask the smell of marijuana, others use it instead of deodorant, and some just like the odor. Whatever the reason, it’s an… acquired taste.”
“I’d say so.” He put the truck in gear. “So, what do you think? Want to go check out the condos and the zombie bunker?”
Cookie nodded, and when they pulled up to the condominium site thirty minutes later, Hank was out front, holding his phone to his ear and pacing angrily back and forth.
“Someone’s having a bad day,” Dylan said.
Based on the way Hank was waving his hand wildly as he spoke into his cell, Cookie had to agree. “He’s not going to let us poke around. We should come back later. Maybe check out the permits down at the town hall and then tell him we’re conducting an inspection.”
“And what’s going to stop him from throwing us out?” Dylan asked.
Cookie pulled her badge out and grinned. “The law has its advantages.”
“Right.” He glanced at the clock and frowned. “It’s too late to go to the town hall today. They closed at three.”
Cookie checked the time. 3:03 pm. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. Back to the inn. We’ll talk t
o Henry and his wife and order a background check on Jerry.”
“Courthouse tomorrow morning?” Dylan asked.
“Yes. Right after we check on Rain.”
Chapter 18
The background check on Jerry was cleaner than Cookie thought hers would be. No debt, no arrests, no divorces, and not one parking ticket or moving violation.
“Geez. Where did this guy come from?” Cookie asked as she pored over the report. “He’s cleaner than a whistle.”
“That’s good for him,” Dylan said and shoved a chocolate dipped cookie into his mouth. It was the afternoon tea hour and Scarlett had set out six different kinds of gourmet cookies and a carafe of coffee that curled Cookie’s toes.
Cookie took a sip from her mug, closed her eyes and wondered if she had another cup if she’d get any sleep later. Probably not, but it was girls’ night, so they weren’t likely to turn in early anyway.
“Henry, Mary. Hello,” Dylan said, rising from his seat at the table to greet the couple as they walked in.
Cookie jerked her head up and eyed the Siegers. They were a little rattled, hair windblown and faces slightly sunburned. “Did you take that sailboat ride today?” Cookie asked.
“Yes!” Mary said, clapping her hands together. “It was wonderful. I just love it when the boat tips and the rail almost hits the water. It’s the most exhilarating thing ever!”
Henry scowled. “The ride was rough and the kid next to me nearly vomited on my shoe.”
“But he didn’t,” Mary snapped back.
The two bickered back and forth, each of them digging in on their positions regarding the sailboat tour. Mary loved it. Henry hated it and was never stepping foot on one of those death traps again.
Cookie cleared her throat. “Was the whale watching tour yesterday bad?”
“Yes,” Henry said at the same time Mary said, “No.”
“I take it you’re not crazy about the water then, Henry?” Cookie asked, paying close attention to the man as a suspect, especially since he wasn’t aware what she was doing.
“That’s an understatement,” Henry said. Then he glared at his wife. “I tried. You have to give me credit for that. But I’d rather keep my feet on land if at all possible for the remainder of the vacation. Is that all right with you?”
“Stop being ornery,” she insisted. “I understand you didn’t enjoy the sailboat. Fine. We don’t have to do that again. But the whale watching? I have pictures of you leaning over the side and feeding one! We’re still going on the extended one tomorrow.”
“I don’t—” he started.
“I said we’re going,” Mary insisted. Then she sat next to me, leaned in, and said, “Do you know what we did for the first week we were here?”
Cookie shook her head. She had no earthly idea. She knew they’d checked in but hadn’t seen them until days later.
“We spent it at the historical society for Pete’s sake. Can you believe that? I now know every name of the first settlers to Secret Seal Isle. Can you imagine going to the beach in the summer and being forced to sit in a room with that Julie lady instead of stretching out on soft sand and dipping your toes in the water?” Mary shuddered. “I can still hear her high-pitched whiney voice. I swear, if she’d said one more word about those condos, I was going to throttle her.”
“The historical society? All day?” Cookie asked.
“From open until close for three days with only short breaks for meals.” Mary scowled. “I am not a history buff, but I can tell you who struck every nail into that building now. Why he still thinks I’m game for that kind of research is beyond me. I don’t know how many different ways to say it. I don’t want to spend my days inside. It’s summer. We should be exploring, enjoying the island… She paused and then spoke a little louder, enjoying each other.”
Her husband finally looked at her when she uttered that last line. Cookie watched irritation vanish from his face, replaced by a tenderness Cookie hadn’t seen before when he looked at his wife.
Mary picked up a cookie and started to move toward the stairs. Her hips swayed suggestively and when she got to the bottom of the stairs, she glanced back at Henry with a come-hither look that would make Bette Davis proud. “Are you coming?”
The chair squeaked on the floor as he pushed it back and rushed to chase his wife up the stairs.
Cookie watched them go and would have taken a moment to let herself sigh with happiness over their enduring love if she hadn’t felt immense relief. If Mary and Harry had really spent days at the historical society, then Julie would confirm their presence easily enough. And that meant Cookie didn’t have killers staying at her inn. Thank goodness for small favors, she thought.
“What?” Dylan asked her. “You have a strange look on your face.”
“I do?” She took another sip of coffee. “I guess it’s because I’m relieved I can scratch Henry and Mary off the suspect list.”
He nodded. “You think Julie will confirm their story?”
“Yep. With that bickering? There’s no way they’re lying. That was thirty years of marriage in action right there.”
Dylan reached under the table and slipped his hand in hers. “That last part. That’s gonna be us one day.”
She turned and looked into his steel-blue eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise.” His hand tightened over her fingers as he leaned in and kissed her.
Someone cleared their throat, intruding on Dylan and Cookie’s moment. And when they pulled apart, Dylan glared at Cade. “What’s this, man? You can’t wait a couple minutes to let me kiss my girl?”
Cade shrugged one shoulder. “It’s guys’ night, remember?” Then he scanned the elegant desserts on the table and chuckled. “I’m guessing we’re going out for that.” He held up a cookie that had ornate Victorian lace icing on it. “This is clearly chick food.”
“You weren’t complaining when you were sampling them earlier,” Scarlett said as she sailed into the room wearing jeans that did things to her backside that should be illegal and a halter top that showed off her gorgeous tanned shoulders. Cookie decide that if she didn’t love her so much, she’d have to hate her on principle.
Cade put his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. The gesture was so easy, so normal, that is made them look like they’d been a couple for months, not days. “Nope, not complaining, gorgeous,” he agreed. “But I’m thinking my pal and I need a place with plenty of beer on tap and the television set to ESPN. A place like that doesn’t serve fancy cookies and gourmet coffee.”
“They should,” Cookie said and bit into a shortbread cookie. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as she moaned out loud.
“Damn. Maybe I do need one of those cookies,” Cade said, making them all laugh.
* * *
“Okay, spill it,” Cookie said. She was sitting on the couch in the inn’s living room, her feet up on the coffee table with a bowl of popcorn in her lap. “What exactly is going on with Cade?”
Scarlett pulled her long blond hair up into a bun, curled her feet underneath her, and sipped her wine. “What’s to tell? We like each other.”
Cookie let out a huff of impatience. “That’s obvious.” She leaned forward and stared her friend in the eye. “I’m more interested in how you feel about it. I mean, it’s moving really quickly isn’t it?”
Scarlett got a goofy look on her face, the kind that clearly says she’s already a complete goner.
“Oh, no,” she whispered to herself.
“Huh?” Scarlett asked.
“Nothing. Listen, Scar, I know I pretty much pushed you into seeing Cade, but I have to ask… Are you prepared for him to leave in a few weeks?”
“He’s not leaving,” she said with an air of confidence Cookie hadn’t expected.
“What do you mean? Is he moving to Secret Seal Isle?”
“Maybe?” She raised her hands in an I-don’t-know motion as her eyes glinted with happiness. “He says his l
ocation is flexible and he wants to get to know me better, so… I guess Dylan has a house guest for the foreseeable future.”
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Cookie said, almost in awe. “You’re actually glowing.”
Scarlett’s smile turned shy as she said, “He’s wonderful, Cookie. Funny, sexy, smart, and really, really good in… well, you get the picture.”
“Ah ha! So you are having sleep overs.”
She gave Cookie a sly smile and reached for her wine. She glanced over the top of the glass. “Greasing tracks.” Cookie assumed she was referring to what Cade and she were doing in a guest’s room the other day when Dylan and Cookie caught them. Scarlett continued, “Or… what is it kids call it these days?” She tapped her chin with a finger before giggling. “Changing out linens. Right?”
Cookie gasped and then sputtered. “That’s—We—” She stopped herself and laughed. “Fine. Let the record stand. I know, that you know, that I know what you’re doing without your sleepwear on.”
Scarlett snickered. “I’d say that depends on your definition of sleepwear.”
“You minx!”
“Rain and Winter may have inspired an idea or two. You wouldn’t believe what a corset can do to your waist.”
“Hmm,” Cookie said as she grabbed a handful of popcorn to shove into her mouth. As much as the idea of sexy bedroom wear tempted her, Cookie was afraid instead of being seductive it spelled wardrobe malfunction for a woman like her. But one never knew…
“I see that mind of yours working, Cookie. Let me know if you ever want to be trussed up and—” Scarlett snorted right along with Cookie when she realized what she’d just said. “Oh, lord. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Cookie snickered. “I know. And trust me, if I ever have the need to present myself like a holiday turkey it’ll be Dylan who—” Cookie snorted again, not even able to pretend she’d consider that kind of bondage.
Once she and Scarlett shared the laugh, her friend said, “I think it’s time to move onto a safer subject. Like when Dylan and you are going to make things official.”