by Diana Orgain
“Your mom told you I was Rachel’s sister?”
“Well, she just said you were in town, but you look a lot like her. Is she having fun on the cruise?”
My jaw dropped. How could this little girl know about Rachel and the cruise? “What do you mean?” I stuttered. “Why do you think she’s on the cruise?”
“I saw her get on.” Coral dug into her tote. “Look, I even painted her.” She pulled out a card and slid it across the table at me. It was a stunning depiction of the back of a woman walking hand-in-hand with a tall man. The woman had my sister’s honey-blond hair.
“Who was she with?” I asked.
Coral shrugged. “Her boyfriend, I guess.”
“Did you see him? Do you know who he is?”
Coral shook her head. “I don’t know him.”
So Rachel had gone on the cruise after all? Why hadn’t she been on the registry?
In my distraction, a small bead of ice cream slipped down my cone and landed directly on the postcard, right over Rachel’s hair. “Oh, Coral, I’m so sorry!”
Coral laughed. “It’s okay.”
I wiped ineffectually at the card.
Coral looked on. “Now she has dark hair! It looks like you in the card.”
“Let me buy it. How much for the postcard?”
Coral shrugged. “It’s okay. You can buy me another ice cream tomorrow!”
I dropped the postcard into my bag. “It’s a deal.”
When Coral and I left the Dreamery Creamery, I tripped on something in the doorway. I bent to pick it up. It was Bowser’s pink plush bunny. I pinched it between my pointer finger and thumb in the way a mom would pick up a dirty diaper.
Coral laughed. “It’s not going to bite you.”
“It’s got beagle slobber on it. Gross factor to the max,” I said, then laughed at my pun.
Coral didn’t get it, her face crinkling up in confusion. “What?” she asked.
“Never mind. Do you know where Max, the guy with beagle, lives?”
She squinted at me. “Max, the guy that walks the beagle with the Roundup Crew?”
“Yeah,” I said, plopping the sopping bunny into my bag. This would work perfectly. I’d return the bunny and grill him about his fight with Dan.
“He lives on the beach in the green house with the wraparound porch.”
I laughed. Coral didn’t know the address, that involved numbers, but she could describe the house to a tee.
She dug into her tote and pulled out another postcard. “It’s one of my favorite houses. He lets me sit on the porch and paint. The light there is amazing.” She fingered the card longingly as if she could pull the light right out of it through her fingertips.
“Thanks, Coral. I think you are amazing!”
Chapter Seventeen
The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden reflection off the Pacific, little rays of light shooting directly into my eyes. Why hadn’t I brought my sunglasses? It had been early when I’d left the house this morning, but still, I should have known better. I squinted my way across the beach, shading my eyes with my hand. I was buffeted by the wind off the ocean. My hair swirling around whipped my cheeks. Sand kicked up and stung my eyes and stuck to my lips.
Ack.
Sometimes I hated the beach. It was days like that I missed the concrete jungle of New York. I felt, at times, that I enjoyed the beach more on an idyllic postcard, like the type painted by Coral, than the real thing.
The green house with the wraparound porch came into view. It seemed like a serene place, with a sprawling deck and a few Adirondack chairs. My sneakers were filling with the sand and it was getting hard to walk. I couldn’t wait to reach the wooden deck. Once there, I immediately emptied my sneakers and dumped the sand back onto the beach.
I rang the front bell and waited. When no one answered, I walked across the back deck and knocked on the glass doors. I could see straight into the living room. Max was seated at a desk, engrossed in his computer. He startled at my knock. He wiggled his mouse and the computer screen went dark. He came to the back door, a smile lighting up his face when he saw me.
“Hi Maggie! You in the neighborhood?”
I dug out the pink plush bunny from my bag and handed it to Max. “This is getting to be a habit,” I said.
He laughed. “Oh no! Where was it?”
“In front of the Dreamery Creamery,” I said.
Max smiled. “Ah! That’s where it went.” He waved me into the house. “Come on in, it’s about time I took a break, and it looks like it’ll be a scorcher today. Want a cocktail?”
I shook my head. “Too early.”
“No, it’s not.” He smiled. “I’ll make Bloody Marys, they’re practically a health food.”
“They are?”
He gave me a mock frown. “Tomato juice? V8, I mean. Anything with vegetable juice is good for you, right?”
I laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, I can hardly argue.”
Following him into the large kitchen, I took the place in. His beach house was almost as immaculate as Gus’s apartment. There were black granite counters and a large commercial-size oven. Gus would approve of this kitchen. My mouth watered thinking about the kind of meal Gus could cook here. After all, he whipped up a gourmet offering in Grunkly’s limited space.
“Nice place,” I said.
Max smiled. “Thanks. It was a family vacation place, but I recently bought it from my folks and now it’s global headquarters for my company.”
“Global headquarters?”
He laughed. “Okay, it’s my home office. I have a small start-up. Just myself and one other developer.” He shifted uncomfortably as if he’d wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He handed me a tall glass.
I sipped the cocktail.
“Delicious!” I said. “But I should have known.”
He smiled. “Ice and spice. My key ingredients.”
We marched out to the deck and sat in the pair of painted wooden Adirondack chairs. The sun was high over the Pacific and I thought jealously of Rachel. She was on a cruise, staring out at the azure water, while I was stuck here in Pacific Cove trying to unravel her mess. Okay, maybe it wasn’t her mess, but I was definitely on the hook for watching her bar and her reputation.
Max looked out toward the water. “It’s peaceful here, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, so peaceful it’s shocking that a murderer is on the loose.”
He sat straighter and nervously ran a hand through his hair. “I heard a rumor that Dan died when his head hit the floor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know, really, just that maybe The Wine and Bark could be liable. I thought maybe that’s why you came here. Maybe for an attorney referral.”
“I need an attorney?”
He shrugged. “I thought maybe that’s why Rachel took off.…”
I sipped the cocktail; the spiciness suddenly seemed overwhelming. “Who’d you hear the rumor from?”
Max bit his lip. “Oh, I can’t seem to recall. Anyway, if you need an attorney, go to Bradford and Blahnik.”
My heart plummeted at the thought of lawyers. Wasn’t there a way I could get to the bottom of all this? I took a deep breath, then asked, “Did you know Dan very well?”
Max shifted uncomfortably. “Not really.”
“I heard you two had a disagreement.”
The Bloody Mary tumbler slipped between his fingers and splattered onto the deck. “Oh shoot! Sorry about that!”
We both stood, then Max scooted inside for a broom.
How strange. Had he dropped the glass on purpose? Instead of answering the question, created a diversion? I’d have to remember that tactic the next time Officer Brooks pinned me down on a topic. The thought of Brooks sent my mind spinning in another direction entirely. Where was he today?
Max returned with a broom, and he swept away the mess. When he finished, he asked, “Who did you hear that from?”
; “Norma,” I said.
Max nodded. “Right. I bumped into Dan outside of the Meat and Greet. He made a few unsavory cracks and we had a little bit of heated exchange. Norma must have overheard us. The truth is, I barely knew Dan. It’s just that he was kind of a jerk.”
I drained the rest of my cocktail and got up. “Thanks for the drink, Max. Are you going to be around tonight?”
He glanced at his watch. “Yes. I’ve got some work to finish up, and then I’ll be around.”
I leveled a gaze at him. “Do you happen to have a key to the bar?”
He frowned. “No. Why? Do you need me to open it up?”
I shook my head as I bussed my glass back to the kitchen. “No, just wondering.” I noticed the plush bunny was still on the table where he left it. “Oh, where’s your dog?” I asked, pointing to the bunny.
Max shuffled his feet and got an odd look on his face. “Uh … yeah … Bowser’s asleep. He’ll be happy to see the bunny when he wakes up. Thanks for coming by, Maggie.”
I left the beach house with an odd feeling. Max was definitely hiding something … but what?
* * *
The sun was getting higher in the sky, burning off the coastal fog that had tried to cool Pacific Cove. I figured now was as good a time as any to pay Officer Brooks a visit. The police station was on the east side of town, and by the time I arrived, my back was drenched with sweat.
Inside, the police station was institutional and sparse. Two uniformed officers sat at computer stations, one on the phone, the other surfing the net, no doubt. A woman officer glanced up when I came in and looked annoyed at being disturbed.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Is Officer Brooks in?” I asked.
Her faced twitched, clearly displeased with me. She indicated a hard plastic chair by the door. “Have a seat, please.”
She turned on a heel and disappeared down a narrow corridor. She reappeared a few moments later trailed by Brooks. My breath caught as I watched his frame fill the doorway.
He didn’t smile to see me, but his eyes lit up. I hoped that refraining from a smile was for the benefit of his colleague and not me.
“Maggie,” he said. “Come on back to my office.”
I followed him down the darkened corridor to a bright room. On his desk was a framed photo of a woman on a beach. The woman was a few years older than me, and striking. She looked liked a swimsuit model, lean and tan with legs that went on forever. In the photo, she gripped the hand of a towheaded boy. A pang of jealousy twitched around my heart.
He caught me looking at the photo. “My mom.”
I picked up the frame. “Is that you?”
“Yup.” He took the frame out of my hand and replaced it on the desk. He was very serious; something was up.
“What can I do for you?”
“I have an eyewitness that Rachel is on a Soleado Cruise,” I said, digging into my bag and pulling out the postcard. I handed it to him.
He squinted. “What is this?”
“It’s a postcard Coral painted. She’s Norma’s daughter.”
He dropped the postcard on the desk. “I know who Coral is. But this doesn’t prove anything.”
“What do you mean? She saw Rachel get on the boat.” I gestured to the card. “She painted her.”
He shook his head. “The painting is of the back of a dark-haired woman. It could be you. In fact, it could be you walking with Gus DelVecchio.”
Ah! That’s what this was about.
“The woman in the painting has light-colored hair. I dropped chocolate ice cream on the card.”
He snorted.
“And it’s not Gus. I don’t know who the guy is. Maybe it’s Chuck, the guy she eloped with.”
“Look, I’ve already reviewed the ship’s passenger list. Rachel Patterson isn’t on it.”
A muscle behind my eye throbbed, causing my left to twitch, and I swore it made me look like a madwoman; either that, or Brooks might think I was winking at him.
When I remained silent, Brooks said, “Look, I’m really sorry, Maggie, but we have to examine the facts here. Dan was found in Rachel’s bar. He and Rachel used to date. No one can get ahold of her—”
“Rachel didn’t kill Dan! Just because he was found at the bar … it doesn’t mean anything. There’re other people in town who could have done it. Did you know Dan and Max had an argument outside of the Meat and Greet? Talk to Norma—”
“Brooks,” a voice barked from the down the hall.
Brooks straightened his shoulders and took in a deep breath.
By the way he’d steadied himself, I knew trouble was a brewing.
Sergeant Gottlieb stuck his bald head into the room, his dark bushy eyebrows furrowed. He started when he saw me. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t know you had company, Brooks.” The way he spat it out made me feel like I’d overstayed my welcome.
I picked up the card from the desk and stuffed it back into my bag. “Sorry to bother you,” I muttered to Brooks.
He gave me a sharp nod, almost a dismissal, yet there was something else in his face. An apology?
I stormed out of the station more determined than ever to get to the bottom of things. The police were hell-bent on blaming this awful crime on Rachel, and I had to help her.
Chapter Eighteen
Down the street was the Bradford and Blahnik store. I entered and was startled to see Brenda there. She was holding a pair of chartreuse strappy sandals by Manolo Blahnik. She smiled when she saw me. “Oh, hi, Maggie! Are you here for a fitting?”
“A fitting?” I asked.
“Oh, or…” She put down the sandal and smoothed down her skirt. “Are you here for a consult?”
The chrome handle to the door was heating up in my hand and part of me wanted to turn tail and run.
“Uh. I … I don’t know. I guess I’m here to see Bradford.”
She grinned widely and stuck her hand out. “Welcome! I’m Brenda Bradford.”
I tried to hide my surprise. “I didn’t realize you were an attorney.”
“Come on in,” Brenda said, putting the Manolos back in the box. “I was admiring the new shipment.”
“They’re stunning,” I said.
She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “I give a fifty percent discount on shoes to clients.”
I glanced back at the strappy sandals. “Tempting.”
But first I’d have to get a paycheck, and one thing about working at The Wine and Bark was that I wasn’t actually getting paid.
Brenda walked me through a small adjoining room to her office. Her office was small and cramped, but immaculate. Her Chihuahua, Pee Wee, was nestled in a blue doggie bed in the corner of the office. He lifted his head and opened an eye upon hearing us enter, but must have considered me boring because he dropped his head and snuggled down to continue his nap.
“Do you want some coffee?” Brenda asked.
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
“What can I help you with?” she asked.
“Well, I guess I need to talk to you about Dan.”
She held up a manicured hand. “Wait a second, Maggie. I have to tell you that I’m not a criminal lawyer.”
I nodded. “I understand. There’s a rumor The Wine and Bark could be held liable for Dan’s death.”
Brenda pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. “So, are you looking at a civil suit?”
“Oh God, I hope not. But I guess, I just wanted to see if that was even a possibility.”
Brenda shrugged. “Perhaps.”
The door to the main storefront jangled open and a familiar voice called out “Hello?”
Brenda sprang up. “Oh, Maggie, can you excuse me a minute?”
As Brenda made her way around her huge glass desk, the familiar voice, followed by an even more familiar and annoying bark, echoed throughout the store. Yolanda popped her head in the doorway. “Brenda. Oh! Oops. Sorry to disturb you. I didn’t know you had a client.”
I turned to face Yolanda. Her face was a mixture of surprise and delight at finding the next gossip item.
“Mags! What you doing here?” Yolanda shrilled.
Beepo yapped at my heel.
Brenda took Yolanda’s elbow. “You know, whatever goes on in here is always confidential.”
Yolanda pressed a hand over her heart. “Of course! I wouldn’t dream of breaching any attorney-client confidences.”
Brenda pressed her lips together and escorted Yolanda out of the office; Beepo remained at my feet and growled.
“Shoo,” I said.
He bared his teeth and nipped at my ankle, his wet nose pressing up against my skin. I yelped.
“Beeeeeepooooo,” Yolanda trilled. “Don’t be naughty!”
I rose from the buttery leather chair and went out to the shoe area, Beepo following me yapping. Yolanda tsked at him and picked him up.
Two hideous bags were propped by the door. One was in the shape and likeness of a pig and the other in the shape of a frog.
I gasped. These bags were just like the chicken bag at Designer Duds.
Yolanda mistook my horror for some sort of appreciation, because she said, “Oh! You like them?” She thrust the frog purse at me. “Green goes with your eyes.”
“I … uh…” I glanced at Brenda for help, but her look of horror caused me to erupt into a fit of giggles.
Brenda stepped forward and gently pushed the frog bag back toward Yolanda. “Maggie is under quite a bit of stress.”
Yolanda clutched the frog bag to her chest, the bag and Beepo competing for space. Beepo growled at the frog. At least I had company thinking the thing was hideous. Maybe Beepo wasn’t so bad, after all.
“Hush, now!” Yolanda said to the dog. “You know it took Momma hours to design this beauty.” She turned to Brenda and me and said, “I call it Le Petite Frog Prince.”
Laughter overtook me, and in trying to repress it, I snorted and choked. Brenda thumped me on the back. “Yes, well, Yolanda. What can I do for you?”
Yolanda scanned the shelves: leather boots, designer sandals, and colorful pumps littered the store. “Any new deliveries?”
Brenda marched over to the Manolos she’d promised me 50 percent off of. “These strappy Blahniks came in.”