SEAS THE DAY

by Maggie Toussaint

  “No wondering about that. You’re the town’s beloved baker, the woman who shattered Jerry and Dasia’s get-rich-quick dream.”

  My head reared back. “You know about that?”

  “Everyone knows about that. Jerry’s been over at the American Legion all morning drowning his sorrows in beer. He already picked three fights with the staff. I took the disturbance call because I’m a member and they want to avoid bad publicity. I drove Jerry home and put him to bed.”

  “Good grief. I’m even happier I decided against their crab cake mass production scheme.”

  “Probably a good move on several fronts. Jerry has an anger management problem. You didn’t hear it from me, but he’s smacked Dasia around a few times.”

  The news upset me. “I hope you arrested him for that.”

  “She didn’t press charges. Oh, the things I could tell you about people in this town.”

  Almost as if islanders were wearing two faces.

  Suddenly, I felt more alone than ever. My good friends the Bolzes had likely been operating under a false flag. The mob infested our fair shores. An armed intruder threatened me.

  Not a good week or a good day, but help was on the way.

  I just had to hold it together until Pete arrived tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When we unlocked my house to check on the cat, Major streaked past us into the woods. “What’d I tell you?” Lance said. “He’s fine.”

  “He’s alive, but he won’t forget the incident,” I said, rubbing the lingering chill from my arms. “I know I won’t forget it.”

  “Remembering will keep you safe,” Lance said. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  “Me too. I don’t want to seem uninterested in finding the intruder, but I’ve got work to do and my timeline is already compressed.”

  “I’ll be there after I scan my report and your statement form into the system.”

  A few hours later, we packed the van and made the trek to my client’s house. Despite the lingering fright from the intruder, my planning and organization skills paid off big time. Widowed banker Tucker Browning beamed from the moment we arrived. His housekeeper had dressed a table for two with a pristine white tablecloth, a low slung bouquet of roses, and elegant china. The silver service gleamed, while the crystal glasses mirrored the strong colors of the late afternoon sun.

  Additional vases of roses accented the sitting room, the foyer, and the living room. Soft jazz filled every corner of the house, adding an easy, feel-good vibe to the already romantic atmosphere. If this wasn’t the night Tucker was proposing, I’d been dating the wrong men all my life. With so much effort focused on the perfect dinner and ambiance, Alberta Kimball would be swept off her feet.

  Lucky woman.

  Lance and I unloaded the van in record time. He seemed to anticipate my every move, which made everything go smoother. “You sure you haven’t done this before?” I asked. “I’ve had other assistants, and we always end up tripping over each other.”

  “This is a first for me,” Lance said as he fired up the charcoal grill and I brushed the steaks with marinade. “However, in all fairness I excel at spatial awareness. It comes in handy for detective work.”

  “Good thing you’re in that field then,” I said, laying out the covered glass baking container holding the marinated steak on the adjacent work bench. I flipped the container over a few times to even out the marinating sides. Satisfied, I pulled my checklist from my chef coat pocket.

  We were on schedule. Time to pop the mini bread loaves in the oven. They would add that heavenly aroma of baking bread to the house. The marinated mahi stayed in the cooler a while longer, too soon to grill the fish. Those pre-cooked Brussels sprouts would only need reheating, and I had time for that after the bread finished. The salad and dressing were chilling, and lemon meringue pie was perfect sitting out on the counter. If the ambiance, food, and flowers didn’t seal the deal, that pie certainly would.

  A masterpiece, if I did say so myself.

  I glanced at the sideboard, which featured wines Tucker had selected. They were the most expensive brands of red and white the wine shop carried. I was impressed.

  “Should I fill the water glasses?” Lance asked.

  “Too soon,” I said. “Condensate will ruin the timeless appeal of that flawless table. After Alberta sees the picture-perfect setting, we’ll remove the china and fill the water glasses.”

  “They don’t eat on these dishes?”

  “We’ll plate their meals in the kitchen, and I’ll carry the filled plates out.”

  He nodded toward the tray of blue corn chips and guacamole I placed beside the wines. “Not something high-powered and fancy for the appetizer?”

  “Tucker said these were Alberta’s favorites. The client is always right in the catering business.”

  “A lot goes into this. I never knew caterers were so scripted and choreographed. You’re good at this, River, and you’re an excellent cook. Not everyone in your niche has both skill sets.”

  I silently basked in his praise. “I’m interested in retaining my clients. That’s why I do my best to ensure there are no surprises.”

  “But if you have surprises, you can roll with them,” he said. “Few women could have rebounded the way you did today. You’ve got game.”

  “I got something,” I said, hearing the crunch of tires on the crushed shell driveway. I waved Lance toward the kitchen. “Alberta’s here. Time for us to vanish.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Are we hiding?”

  “No, but we stay out of sight until needed. Tonight is about Tucker and Alberta. Like kitchen elves, our goal is to be invisible.”

  “Not quite what I pictured when I agreed to help, but I can try channeling my inner kitchen elf,” Lance said as we hurried out of the way. “I’d rather be in the dining room, watching the Big Moment transpire.”

  “Forget it,” I said. Then I looked at the goofy grin on his face. “You think he’s proposing tonight?”

  “That’s the rumor,” Lance said. “Heard it at the American Legion earlier today. Three times, so it must be true.”

  I didn’t agree with his interpretation of that rumor, but we had a few minutes to ourselves for quiet conversation. I eased a back hip against the counter. “Any promising leads on finding Chili? What about the fake cousins? What happened to them?”

  “Kale is the best lead we’ve had so far, and he’s not talking, thanks to you and his low-rent lawyer.”

  “Hey, don’t shoot the facilitator. Kale may reveal something yet. If Chili had a serious wound when he went missing, he’d have turned up at a hospital by now. I’m hoping he’s okay and he’s hiding out there, somewhere. What about Barnegas and Ferarrelli?”

  Lance frowned at me. “Barnegas is still in intensive care with a collapsed lung. He’s not talking to anyone. Ferarrelli’s in our custody and lawyered up. Some high-powered Savannah firm represents them. Made it clear that both men had plenty of rights. They’re an official dead end.”

  Thanks to my brother’s brush with the law, I knew about jail and penalties for people who’d been in jail. “They weren’t already in the system for something else or out on parole?”

  “Clean hands, both of them, though both are rumored to be mob enforcers.”

  “Yikes. I thought you told me before they were fixers. Guess it doesn’t matter. Both labels sound terrible.” Mob enforcers destroyed Estelle’s house. Far as I knew, that had never happened on Shell Island before. Whoever Estelle got tangled up with had killed her.

  “A new source confirmed their organized crime association. I gave you the best information I had at the time.”

  “Which mob?” I asked.

  Lance shook his head. “Better that you don’t know. These people play for keeps. Don’t stick your nose into anything having to do with E
stelle. It could turn out badly for you.”

  I’d had my fill of bullies for the day. “Sounds like a threat.”

  “It’s a common-sense warning. Look, most everyday lawbreakers get caught, go to jail, and get released. Some do better afterward, like your brother; others bounce back to jail until they get killed or land in prison. Ferarrelli and Barnegas are professional criminals. They are wicked smart and don’t get caught.”

  I didn’t appreciate the reminder my brother had spent time in jail. I soldiered past my bruised feelings. “Except Deputy Franklin caught them. You’ve got them in your jail.”

  “Their lawyers will beat the vandalism charges. Money will appear to compensate the family for the loss of property. I don’t know how or when it will come down, but these two will skate. I guarantee it.”

  It wasn’t fair. My mood plummeted. “Doesn’t say much for our justice system.”

  “Justice is blind to those with the right connections. Trust me, these people are highly connected. I saw something similar in Texas.”

  “You’ve opened my mind to a reality I didn’t know existed. It makes me want to barricade myself in my home.”

  “At its heart, the mob is a business, pure and simple. Beat the competition any way you can. If you get caught, minimize the bleeding and try a different strategy. Everyone can be bought.”

  “You sound remarkably calm about illegal activity for a man who’s in law enforcement.”

  “There’s no point viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. It is starkly black and white, with splashes of blood, and I’m not talking about racial anything. Black and white being the legal establishment versus the people who operate outside the law.”

  “Huh.” I rubbed my folded arms for a moment, digesting the conversation. “You know, one thing stood out when I was searching for Chili.”

  Lance came to attention. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. It may be nothing, but I noticed this when I went to Bayside Marina. Chili’s boat looked pristine.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “I’ve done business with Chili for years. His boat usually had a lived-in appearance, with personal items here and there. I’ve never seen it like this. It looks like someone power washed his boat and then waxed it.”

  His brow furrowed. “That’s odd. I didn’t realize his vessel was unnaturally clean.”

  “Again, I don’t know if it means anything, but if something happened on his boat, the evidence is long gone. Though on some of the crime scene shows, they can detect blood that’s been bleached. Is that true? Can you do that?”

  “We have the standard blood detection kits. I could try going down there at night and spraying his boat with an indicator chemical, but if the physical evidence is gone, all we’ll learn is that Chili’s blood is in his boat. It won’t take us anywhere.”

  “Unless someone else bled in the boat. Chili is a tough guy. He wouldn’t have been easy to take down. If someone attacked him, he fought back.”

  Lance nodded. “Good point.”

  The oven timer dinged. I grabbed a mitt, removed the bread, and placed the Brussels sprout dish in the toasty oven. “And we’re back on duty. As fascinating as this discussion of the case is, we have a job to do.” I caught his gaze and nodded toward the back stoop where I’d set up my grill. “Both steaks are to be cooked medium rare. Can you handle that?”

  He reached for the grill spatula and twirled it. “I’ve been grilling meat all my life. Of course, I can.”

  “Great. We’ll start the fish once I’ve served the salad course. That way the fish and steak will be done near the same time.”

  The rest of the meal went like clockwork. When Tucker proposed after pie and coffee, Alberta danced a jig of acceptance. Lance and I admired the flashy diamond ring before we packed up, then I dropped him off at his car.

  “Thanks for the help,” I said. “You ever want to be my assistant again, I’ll put a good word in with the owner.”

  “Sure.” Lance’s expression tightened. “You headed to the airport now?”

  “Yeah. Pete’s plane lands in twelve minutes. I want to be in the terminal before nine.”

  “Drive safely.”

  “Thanks for helping tonight feel more normal. I appreciate your kindness.”

  “No problem.”

  I drove to the airport, tired and exhilarated. After such a successful meal, Alberta would surely invite me to cater her wedding, which had been my secondary goal of the evening. With that giddy sensation of success and the rising anticipation of seeing Pete, I had to keep checking my speed. I didn’t want a ticket or the delay a traffic stop would cause.

  A car swerved in front of me and I hit the brakes. It was a near thing, but I avoided a collision. Then the driver maintained a speed below the speed limit, amping up my agitation.

  My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Get a grip, River. Your emotions are bouncing all over the place. A few minutes either way won’t matter, unless Pete took that as a sign I didn’t care enough to greet him the second he breezed through the security checkpoint.

  Now that was nerves talking. Pete would be so happy to see me, so happy to be off airplanes and to finally be among friends and loved ones.

  This is what Pete and I wanted: being together, living together, sharing breakfasts, and making a family. With each mile that rolled by my happiness intensified.

  This was happening.

  The man I loved was coming home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I parked and dashed inside the airport as the plane taxied our way. Made it! Should I have remembered flowers or made a welcome home banner? Maybe, but Pete wouldn’t miss them.

  My emotions still bounced all over the map. This was a big deal in my life, a new chapter. I’d be part of a live-together couple. From our dating history before he moved to California, I knew Pete’s likes and dislikes. He was driven to succeed and gave two hundred percent to everything, including me.

  God, I couldn’t wait to see him.

  A few people hurried off the plane, then a few more. I strained my neck and squinted to get the very first glimpse of him. People streamed by in a colorful throng. No Pete.

  My heart thudded as the passengers thinned to nothing. Did he miss the plane? No, he would’ve contacted me. I checked my phone again in case I missed a message. Nothing there. He was on that plane, but he wasn’t bounding off to see me.

  Were his injuries worse than he’d mentioned?

  On the video phone call last night, he’d shown me his hurt arm. I should’ve thought of how difficult it would be to manage baggage with one hand. I should have flown out to help him wrangle the flight change in Atlanta.

  “River!” he called.

  I glanced up, saw him alone in the arrival corridor, one hand on a cane, the other arm wrapped in a sling. My gosh. His face was so pale. I needed to get him home right away. “Pete!”

  I raced to his side, brushing a kiss on his lips, gingerly wrapping my arms around him. He’d lost weight too. The poor guy. “I’ve missed you so much,” I breathed into his chest.

  “You look and smell good enough to eat. We’re not doing this again,” he said as his good arm hugged me close. “I love you, and I want you beside me for the rest of my life.”

  “I want that too,” I said into his shirt, my voice muffled because he held me so tight. “How bad are you hurt?”

  “Banged up a bit, but nothing broken, or permanently damaged. Just need your tender loving care.”

  “You came to the right place for TLC. Do you have bags?”

  He managed a wry grin. “Checked everything. Couldn’t wrangle a bag with the cane and the arm in a sling.”

  “Let’s grab them and go home.”

  “I’ve been waiting all day to hear those words.”

  We spent the night in
each other’s arms, and I’d awakened at the normal time, despite having much less sleep. I didn’t want to disturb Pete’s rest, so I rose quietly and dressed in the bathroom. With a steaming cup of coffee in hand, I sat on my back porch as day dawned. So far so good on the grand reunion. It didn’t feel awkward having Pete here at all.

  I had one of those kitchen-sink-style breakfast casseroles baking in the oven. That would give Pete a hearty meal to start putting the meat back on his bones.

  Major must be recovered from his drugging incident because the cat bowls were empty. I’d filled them last night before I left for the catering job. I refilled them and waited in my chair for Pete to awaken.

  I listened with my eyes closed as a black-capped chickadee chirped “fee bee.” A few minutes later a northern cardinal called out, “cheer, cheer, cheer.” Normal sounds for a normal day. My property wasn’t on the marsh or the beach, but I could get to either one in less than five minutes. I had the best of both worlds, island living at a fraction of the cost.

  Last night, Pete hadn’t mentioned Estelle’s ashes in the kitchen. There was a chance he didn’t recognize the brass container as a funerary urn, but he’d been so weary during dinner and all he’d wanted to do was go to bed.

  Would he understand that I needed to hang onto Estelle?

  Every time I saw her urn, I remembered Estelle asked me to find her son, except Chili was hidden so well no one could find him. Far as I could tell, no one knew where he was either.

  I sipped more coffee. Maybe Pete would have a fresh insight into the case. That would be nice. Would we be “that” couple who did everything together? If it went well, we could open up our own investigation agency, H and M for Holloway and Merrick. Or if we married, it could be M and M Investigations. While it sounded great, both of us were used to doing things our own way and in our own time. How would we feel about moving in tandem?

  At a noise inside the house, I turned to see Pete coming my way. He’d pulled on a black T-shirt and jeans and already the color in his face looked better.

  “Good morning,” I said, rising to greet him with a kiss. “Please join me for a cup of coffee.”