SEAS THE DAY

by Maggie Toussaint

  “I can do that.” I knelt at his feet and began kneading his leg muscles. Pete groaned, and my hands stilled. “Is that too hard? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He grimaced, and my heart went out to him, then he tilted his head and spoke very softly. “Nothing’s wrong with the leg. My ankle has a slight sprain, but your touch feels so good. I’m trying not to reach for you and kiss you right here.”

  “Oh. Well. I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.” His comment revved my libido too. I sat back on my haunches and grinned. “Impulse control is character-building they say. How much longer shall we wait? Nothing stopping us from going home right this second.”

  “Hold that thought,” Pete said. “A cop SUV just turned onto this street. Now that’s downright interesting. No lights or sirens, so he’s gonna play this as a casual what-are-you-doing-here meet-up.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “It means a cop is watching this house. He wants to know if anyone comes here so he can question them.”

  Lance stopped in the street, exited his SUV, and ducked under the crime scene tape. With long strides he quickly closed the gap between us. “River, this house is off-limits. You and your friend can’t be here.”

  “Good morning, Lance.” I introduced Pete and Lance, Pete not bothering to rise. “I was telling Pete about what happened to Estelle’s house and he wanted to see it. We walked around the yard just now. We didn’t touch anything.”

  “You’re touching the steps,” Lance said wryly, looking at Pete’s cane.

  “Pete injured his ankle in California before he flew home.”

  “I see he’s banged up. What happened?”

  “Workplace injury,” Pete said. “Sorry to have caused any trouble. The ladies next door said all the neighbors had been looking in the windows, so I thought it wouldn’t matter if we did the same.”

  With that, Pete rolled to his good arm side and pushed up onto his good leg, a difficult task with one arm. I handed him the cane and stood beside him. My arm wrapped around his waist.

  “We haven’t finished our investigation yet,” Lance said, visibly relaxing. “That’s why the tape’s up, for all the good it’s doing. Everyone’s a looky-loo.”

  “We’ll be on our way then,” I said, encouraging Pete to step forward. It was like trying to move a loaded semi. He didn’t budge. I struggled for something to say. “Thanks again for your help yesterday with the Tucker-Browning engagement dinner.”

  Lance tipped his head momentarily. “Glad to help out. Call me anytime.”

  “I appreciate you looking out for River until I could get here, Deputy, but I’ll be helping River from now on,” Pete said.

  Lance gave him a dismissive glare. “If you say so.” He walked away, hands clenched at his sides.

  Pete headed to my van. We were most of the way there when Lance pulled away. “What was that about?” I asked.

  “Staking my claim,” Pete said. “Lance doesn’t like the competition.”

  “There is no competition,” I assured him.

  Pete stopped, his gaze searching my face. “You’ve made up your mind to marry me?”

  “I’ve made up my mind to live with you. That goes well, we’ll make it legally binding. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like I’m your future fiancé. I’ll take it.”

  “Great.”

  Pete took his time getting in his seat, and I could see that he had done more walking on his ankle than was good for it. “Some rest, ice, compression, and elevation are in order. Let’s get you home.”

  His eyes brightened. “Taking me to bed already?”

  “Icing the ankle.”

  “Oh. Not as exciting, and the TLC can wait. Let’s stop at the pier. I’d love to see the ocean and hang out in our place.”

  “If you’re sure you’re up for it.”

  “My ankle’s seen worse. I want everyone to see us, so nobody else thinks they have a claim on you.”

  “Pete Merrick, you’re barking like a territorial dog. Next thing you’ll be peeing on trees in our yard.”

  “Whatever it takes, hon.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  While Pete rested after our afternoon delight, I rose from our bed and got to work. The Ladies of Distinction luncheon on Friday would be easy. I had the menu down pat for that, having catered for them recently. However, I’d contracted to cater a baby shower on Sunday afternoon. This client, the great grandmother, left all the deciding to me, for the eats and the decorations. “Make a lot of food,” she’d said in her wavering voice, “and make it good.”

  The only thing she’d specified were mimosas for the guests and sparkling cider for the mom-to-be, Cherie Ryland. So I went through my notes on the last baby shower I did and made a potential list in the price range we’d agreed upon. To my staples of a fruit tray, a veggie tray, and deviled eggs, I suggested chicken waffle sliders, cheesy bacon and spinach dip, blueberry tarts, cheesecake stuffed strawberries, and unicorn pretzels. I texted Cherie a copy of the food suggestions list and less than a minute later, she texted back the word “Awesome.”

  Good to have that settled.

  I started a pot of vegetable soup for lunch, and the chopping and dicing settled me. I owned three food processors, but when I made soup, there was nothing like taking my time with the vegetables. The scent of celery, for instance, took me to a special place. Garden fresh goodness soon filled the air.

  While the soup simmered, I grabbed the phone book to see if I could find Justin Adler. Not listed. I checked the internet to see if he popped up anywhere. Nothing, not even on social media. That was weird.

  I needed another resource, someone who knew lots of people locally and their phone numbers. Viv Declan sprang to mind. Luckily, I now had her number in my contact list. She’d be at work at the mill, but I could leave her a message.

  Viv answered on the first ring. “If it isn’t my Nancy Drew friend. Find Chili yet?”

  I smiled to myself. “You would’ve heard if I had. That’s why I’m calling. My brother suggested Justin Adler might know places where Chili hunted. I don’t have Justin’s number. Do you have a way to contact him?”

  “You still think Chili is alive? It’s been a week, nearly two. Anything’s possible, I suppose. Let’s see, I went on a few dates with Justin but there were no sparks, no nothing, but the act. Wasn’t working for either of us, so we moved on. I might’ve dumped his number. Nope. Lucky you. Here it is.”

  I jotted down the number, thanked her, and then called Justin. He didn’t answer. I left a voicemail message explaining why I called and asked him to return the call.

  For a few minutes, I lingered, enjoying the nourishing aromas of my soup. I had the luncheon on Friday, the baby shower Sunday afternoon, and an anniversary dinner for two on Wednesday. Then there was a big gap until the spring festival. Jobs always cropped up, but it would be nice if I had more bookings. Looked like a lot more Mondays of cleaning houses with my friend in my near future.

  Wait. What about the Walker girl? She asked me to cater her wedding, and I never heard from her. I didn’t have her number, but her mother owned and managed the largest hotel on the island. I called the Ocean Crest Plaza and asked for Geneva Walker.

  She came on right away. “I’m so glad you called, River. We were flat out panicked last weekend when the fancy Savannah caterer that Malcom insisted upon cancelled. She said it was too far, and it was too difficult to work with my beautiful Melanie. The wedding’s in five weeks.”

  “Five weeks? Melanie didn’t mention the date when she asked me to do it. That’s very short notice.”

  “Yes, and I apologize that we haven’t followed up. Mel came down with the flu after the bridal shower and hasn’t been the same since. I’ll fax you the menu.”

  I’d learned the hard way that people would walk all over me if I didn’t prot
ect myself. “Tell me the exact date, time, and number of people who RSVPed.”

  She told me. “Two thirty is an odd time. Will it be a late lunch or an early dinner? And am I to do the wedding cake?”

  “A specialty baker is making the cake, and the time is at high tide since the wedding will be at Creekside Lodge. What’s your fax number?”

  “No need for a fax. I’ll bring over my standard contract, we’ll review the menu together, then I’ll need a substantial deposit. For weddings, my standard policy is a $1000 deposit, of which $500 is nonrefundable. Once we sign the contract, and I have your check in hand, then I’ll ink in the date. The rest of my fee will be due two days before the event.”

  “Yes, yes, then, please come over at once. I’ll cancel my next two appointments.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  Much to my surprise, the menu looked doable. I’d hire my regular helpers for table service but that was easy. The other caterer must’ve not been as fancy as Ms. Geneva thought. Normally, I’d be racing back to my calculator at home, making sure that my numbers were fair. Instead, I asked pointblank what the other caterer had charged. The amount astounded me.

  “Her fee seems high,” I said. “Was she also providing the tables, chairs, linens, table décor, and place settings?”

  “No. I booked those through the Lodge. She also charged me a hefty mileage fee.”

  “No mileage fee with me. I’ll do it for half of her rate.” We settled on a price, and I made sure she understood my change-order fee. Any add-ons to the contract would incur a $100 change fee, plus the supply and labor fee.

  Change orders were another lesson I’d learned the hard way. Ms. Geneva initialed that specification on the contract, she signed, and I signed. I scanned the signed documents into my phone and emailed one set to her and the other to her daughter. Minutes later, I walked out of there with a check for a grand.

  Next stop the bank, where I deposited the check.

  No message from Pete on my phone, so I assumed he still was sleeping. I made a few turns into an older neighborhood and rode past Justin Adler’s old house. The low slung brick-faced home looked as I remembered it. The graceful oak still dominated the front yard.

  However, the tidy lawn was a thing of the past. A fleet of plastic trikes, trucks, scooters, and more spilled out of the open garage. Must be a young family living here now.

  Mustering my courage, I stopped and knocked on the door. A harried bleached blonde I didn’t recognize answered the door, baby on one hip, toddler clinging to her leg.

  I handed her my business card. “Hello, I’m River Holloway. I’m trying to locate Justin Adler. His family used to live here. Do you know how to contact them?”

  “You’re the caterer,” the woman said, pocketing the card. “I’m Anita Declan. Viv told me about you. I married her brother.”

  Darry Declan. Chili’s friend who moved to Alaska. “Oh. Small world.”

  “Yes, indeed.” One of her kids began crying. “Wanna come in?”

  “Thanks, but no. I really can’t stay. I was in the area and stopped on a whim. Is there a chance you have Justin’s forwarding address?”

  “I don’t. Sorry. We signed a lease for the house through a property management company.”

  I thanked her for her time and drove away wishing I had a way to find Chili. I took a few detours on the way home, going through neighborhoods and enjoying the island’s beautiful oaks. Lance phoned when I pulled into my driveway. I answered on my hands-free system.

  “Heard you were asking questions again,” Lance began.

  I checked my mirrors. He wasn’t following me. How did he know what I was doing? “I was.”

  “You’re looking for Justin Adler? Why?”

  “You’re freaking me out. Did you tap my phone?”

  “Can’t do that without probable cause, and you wouldn’t be trying to find Chili so hard if you were involved in his disappearance. I know you visited Anita Declan. The neighbor across the street calls me all the time to complain about the noise from the Declan kids. She phoned when she saw you at Anita’s door. Far as I can tell, Anita has no involvement in the case, but she’s renting her house from a man who used to work for Chili. I made a leap of faith and called you to ask about it. That’s all.”

  “Oh. That makes sense. Thought you’d gone all psycho-stalker on me.”

  “I’m a cop, and I want to clear this case as much as you do. Did you locate Adler?”

  “I don’t know where he is. Pete reasoned that if Chili had gone to ground that Justin might recall some of the places he and Chili used to hunt. Maybe he’s hiding at one of those hunting blinds or deer stands.”

  “It’s been days since he disappeared. He could be halfway across the country by now.”

  “Perhaps, but I believe he’s closer to home. Did you question Justin?”

  “I followed the same dead-end trail you did. I was hoping you had better luck.”

  How depressing. Now there were two men in the wind. “Can you find Justin? I have limited resources, and I just landed a wedding contract that I need to plan.”

  “The bank president’s wedding?”

  “I wish. That one would be easy. This one’s for Melanie Walker.”

  He didn’t respond.

  I turned on Ocean Crest Drive. “You know something about Melanie?”

  “Her fiancé.”

  “Is he a bad guy?”

  “I don’t care for him. He thinks the world revolves around him.”

  “Oh. Melanie’s that way too. Should be interesting to see what happens to them. I can’t afford to get hung up on personal differences. I’m hoping they get married. I need the money.”

  “Pete isn’t paying your bills?”

  My hands jerked on the wheel. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Sorry. I know how hard you work. I don’t want him taking advantage of you.”

  “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.”

  “My offer stands. If you need me, say the word.”

  The call ended, and I was once again left to reflect on Lance knowing my every move. It was creepy, but he was a cop. One of the good guys. I’d had dinner with him and worked with him, but we’d never be more than friends. Heck, I didn’t even consider him a friend, really, he was more of a business associate.

  Lance Hamlyn’s personal life wasn’t my concern. Another man filled my life, a man I loved. About time I got some food into him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lance called two hours later, waking me from the light nap following another sexy romp. With Pete living here, we were getting a lot of exercise in bed and not so much sleep.

  “Meet me at the Christmas Tree Farm,” Lance said. “I have a surprise. Don’t tell anyone where you’re headed.”

  The full relaxation vibe I felt faded in a heartbeat. Pete and I were sprawled together in bed. His hurt arm was cushioned by a pillow. Aside from sleeping beside Pete, cuddling with him was my new favorite thing.

  This interruption irritated me. “First, I’m not going anywhere without Pete. Second, we have plans for this afternoon,” I hedged and immediately felt a wave of remorse. Lance had been kind enough to help me with that catering job. I could at least hear him out. “Is this about the case?”

  “It’s a matter of importance to both of us,” Lance said curtly. “Twenty minutes. Bring the boyfriend if you must.”

  The call ended abruptly.

  “What’s this about?” Pete asked as I tossed the phone on the bed.

  “I’m not sure. Lance said it was important. You heard the rest.”

  Pete nodded, his expression grim. “The tree farm, where’s that?”

  “North end of the island. It’s been there for years, but the Bromfields don’t advertise.”

  “Yo
u want to take this meeting?”

  “I want to find Chili.”

  “I hear you, but from all the effort you’ve already put into finding him, he doesn’t want to be found. He’s beginning to sound like an urban legend.”

  I punched him playfully on his good shoulder. “Chili is as real as you and me. He’s my friend and he’s in trouble. We’re sitting here all comfy-cozy and he’s out in the woods eating bugs for all I know.”

  “If he’s alive.”

  Pete’s words galvanized me. I scrambled to my feet. “He is alive. I can’t give up hope. If you don’t want to come, I’ll go by myself.”

  Pete sat up straighter, alarm flaring in his eyes. “Hold on. I never said I didn’t want to go. We’ll do this together, partner.”

  Twenty minutes later found us in the tree farm parking lot, and I use the term parking lot loosely because people parked near the shed-sized office when they came here in December. We’d had a lot of warm weather already in March, so grassy weeds ringed the area. The little hut that usually glowed with cheerful Christmas lights looked forlorn and empty.

  Evergreen trees stretched as far as I could see in every direction, and the fragrance reminded me of happier, less stressful times.

  “Where’s Lance?” I wondered aloud, since we were the only vehicle here, the only people for apparently miles around. The owners of the farm spent the spring months helping raise their grandkids in Atlanta, so they weren’t in residence now, another reason they didn’t advertise their wares.

  As if on cue, a police SUV motored up and slotted in beside me. Pete and I exited the van. Lance joined us in front of the vehicles. “Glad you could make it,” Lance said, glaring at Pete. “Sorry to interrupt your other plans.”

  I could feel Pete bristling, so I stepped between the two men. “What’s so important you dragged us all the way out here?”

  Lance glared at Pete over my head. “Found somebody.”

  “You did?” I searched his face, hoping against hope. “Is Chili okay?”

  Lance puffed out his chest and fisted his hands on his hips. “Chili’s still missing. Justin Adler was hiding at his girlfriend’s house. He agreed to meet me here, but only if you were present.”