Permanently Booked

by Lisa Q. Mathews

  She tried not to look too closely inside some of the cages. Most of the animals were either in hiding or camouflaged by the sand, branches, and plants in their personal habitats.

  The words Danger: Highly Venomous did jump out at her from some of the little plaques above the displays.

  An even bigger sales draw for some buyers, no doubt.

  “It’s superhot in here,” Summer said. “Like a rain forest or something.” She glanced around nervously. “Where do you think they keep the big snake?”

  “You mean Camo?” a teenage boy in a baseball cap asked from a slipcovered recliner in the corner of the store. He had his feet up on the edge of an enormous glass aquarium filled with tiny green turtles as he read a dark-looking comic book. “Sorry, the snake ain’t here right now. The gators are outside, though, if you want to see them.”

  “No, thank you,” Dorothy said.

  “Uh, where is this giant snake thing?” Summer asked.

  The young man shrugged, absorbed again in his comic book. “Dunno.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Summer looked as green as the turtles. “Like, he got out or something? How could you lose him? The sign says he’s twenty feet long.”

  “She got out.” The bored employee turned a page. “No big deal, it’s okay. My boss always finds her. Ray’s real good at that. You folks should come by again tomorrow.”

  Dorothy placed a calming—and hopefully deterring—hand on Summer’s shoulder. “Oh, we’re sorry to have missed Ray,” she said. “We’ve heard so much about him. How long has he owned this place now?”

  “Forever, I guess,” the young man said. “He just stopped by about an hour ago, to see if Camo showed up on her own. But other than that, I ain’t seen Ray for a while. He’s been out in the field.”

  “When do you expect him back?” Dorothy asked.

  The employee tipped the brim of his cap up slightly and regarded her with a level expression. “That’s what the cop guy who was in here before you asked, too. Hey, I don’t ask any questions. I just cover the store and clean the cages. I don’t deal with the big clients. You know, the private collectors.”

  “Right.” Summer shook off Dorothy’s hand and approached the giant aquarium with the baby turtles. “These little guys are really cute,” she said, peering closer. “I know someone who’s looking for a pet.”

  The young man shrugged. “Can’t go wrong with a red-eared slider. They’re pretty easy to take care of.”

  “How big do they get?” Summer asked.

  “Not very.”

  “Okay, I’ll take one.” Summer pointed to a turtle plastered against the wall at the top of the aquarium, tiny bubbles emerging from its nostrils and floating across the surface of the slightly cloudy water. “Juliette-Margot’s going to love you,” she told it.

  Dorothy hurried up beside her friend. “Summer, I don’t think buying the child a turtle is a very good idea,” she said.

  The employee took a small net from the wall beside his chair and scooped the flailing animal out. “Good choice,” he congratulated Summer. “This one’s got a nice, hard shell. That means it’s healthy.”

  “You should ask Dash and Julian first, at least,” Dorothy tried. “Owning an animal is a serious responsibility.”

  Summer gave her a reassuring smile as the young man put the turtle in a small white box that looked like a Chinese take-out carton with air holes. “Oh, I totally know that, Dorothy. But those two are so overprotective of Juliette-Margot I know they’ll all take great care of this little guy, too.”

  Dorothy sighed, and Summer talked the employee into throwing in a free plastic pet container with a hot-pink lid and a sample shaker of turtle food. “You can get more instructions online,” he said.

  “Awesome,” Summer said. “By the way,” she added, handing over her credit card, “does your boss have a girlfriend named Trixie?”

  “Sorry, cash only,” the young man replied. “There’s some lady who’s with him a lot, but I forget her name. Real fancy hair, kinda loud, lots of jewelry?”

  “That’s the one,” Dorothy said as her friend checked her wallet and bit her lip. She unsnapped her purse and stepped up to hand Ray’s employee a twenty-dollar bill. “Will this cover it?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “Anything else you need?”

  Dorothy gazed over his shoulder at the assortment of cheaply framed photos hanging on the back wall. They all showed Ray with various terrifying creatures, mostly snakes, hairy spiders, alligators, and spiked lizards. The photo in the center, however, featured the multitattooed, exotic pet business owner with the largest snake by far, wrapped around his shoulders, his arm, and what looked like a large barrel. Even more of the animal—dark-colored, with patterned brown splotches bordered in black and piercing eyes—trailed along the ground.

  Oh my. That had to be Camo. Which of the creatures was more cold-blooded? Dorothy wondered. The snake or Ray?

  “No,” she said to the young man in the ball cap. “We are definitely all set, thank you.”

  When Dorothy and Summer stepped outside, the rain and cloudy skies had finally cleared, leaving the air smelling so much fresher. Or maybe it was because they had just emerged from the swampy, choking humidity of the exotic pet store.

  “So, do you think Ray was ‘The Snake’ Trixie was talking about in that letter she wrote to Lorella?” Summer asked as they headed toward the car. “It’s probably his nickname. He had a really gross snake tattoo halfway down his left arm in those photos.”

  “Well, it does seem entirely possible that Ray might be The Snake,” Dorothy said. “But why would Trixie have gone anywhere with an unpleasant man like that, if she was warning Lorella about him?”

  “I know,” Summer said, sneaking a peek into the carry-out carton, where the turtle was desperately scratching the cardboard with its tiny claws. “It makes no sense. And I can’t see Lorella having anything to do with a guy like Ray anyway.”

  Her phone rang, and Summer fished her cell from her back shorts pocket.She’d have to talk fast, because she hadn’t gotten much juice on the portable charger on the way over. Donovan, she mouthed to Dorothy, handing her the turtle box. “Hello?” she said, into the phone. “Yeah, sure, we were just—”

  Something rustled loudly in the bushes, and Summer stopped talking. “What is that?” she whispered to Dorothy.

  Dorothy had heard the noise, too, but she’d hoped it was her imagination. The odd leaf rustling started up again, moving closer.

  Summer stepped over to the edge of the parking lot, leaning forward as she peered into the weeds and dry foliage. “Aaahh!” she screamed, dropping her phone on the broken asphalt and making no move to retrieve it. “Oh my gosh, something’s staring at me!”

  Before Dorothy could react, her friend reached down, grabbed a pink flip-flop from her foot, and fired it into the bushes. “Dorothy, run!” she cried.

  Chapter Nine

  Dorothy set a microwaved plate of dark, congealed spaghetti in front of Summer on the breakfast bar. “Eat this nice dinner Ernie brought us up from the dining room, dear. You’ll feel better.”

  “Thanks.” Summer stared dejectedly at the pasta as she wound it up with her fork. “You know what this reminds me of? Snakes.”

  “Now, now, none of that,” Dorothy scolded. She’d rarely seen her friend lose her appetite, even for dismal Hibiscus Pointe Canyons leftovers. “I doubt it was that awful Camo creature you saw in the bushes. Your mind was probably playing tricks on you.”

  “Nope,” Summer said. “It was a really ginormous snake, all curled up, with evil, beady eyes. I’m a hundred percent positive.” She sighed and checked her cell phone beside her plate again. “That thing made me break my phone and”—she held up a bare, tanned foot—”lose one of my favorite flip-flops. Plus, by the time Detective Donovan gets our message, Camo will have gobbled up half of Milano. And probably Trixie and Ray, too, before we can question them.”

  Dorothy smile
d, although for some reason, the prospect of Ray being swallowed by a giant python seemed less horrific than it should have. “Why don’t we try to focus on the brighter side right now?” she suggested. “Tomorrow is our book club launch, and we’re sure to have plenty of opportunities to interact with possible suspects. Do you think we should mention the event to the detective? Perhaps he’ll want to sit in.”

  “No,” Summer said. “Let’s just handle this ourselves. It’s not like he’s been superresponsive or anything so far. Obviously, he doesn’t want our help.”

  Goodness, why was Summer sounding so discouraged this morning? That wasn’t like her at all. Perhaps the fright from the snake. “I don’t think that’s the case,” Dorothy said. “We’ve just had a few timing issues.”

  The door buzzer sounded, and Dorothy stumbled over Mr. Bitey to answer it. That cat never failed to miss a chance to protect his territory from any and all visitors. He would have made a perfect guard dog, should she ever have required—or wanted—one.

  Jennifer waved at her through the peephole. “Hi, Mrs. Westin,” she said. “Just dropping off the printed copies of the new reading list you requested for book club.”

  “Why, thank you, Jennifer,” Dorothy said, opening the door. “My, that was fast. Please come in.”

  “Hey, Jennifer, how’s it going?” Summer pushed away the offending spaghetti.

  “Not great,” the Resident Services director said, with a sigh. “It’s been a challenge fielding all the media calls, and we’ve had to put on extra security staff to man the gatehouse at the front entrance. But Shane—I mean Detective—Donovan has been a big help keeping things under control.”

  Summer snorted and leaned over to scrape her plate into the sink, flipping the switch for the noisy, grinding disposal. What a waste of good food, Dorothy thought. Well, maybe not good, exactly, but still…

  “You and the detective are really close, huh?” Summer reached for the bottle of dish detergent and applied an extra-large amount of liquid onto her plate and silverware.

  “Oh no.” Jennifer smoothed a strand of shiny dark hair back under her navy headband, coloring very slightly. “Well, I mean, I guess we’re very friendly. In a professional sort of way, of course.”

  “Uh-huh,” Summer said. “That’s nice.” Her usually sunny smile seemed a bit wobbly.

  Dorothy frowned. Her sleuthing partner was certainly not acting very professional right now. What on earth had gotten into her?

  “One good thing is, Roger left this morning for a tournament in Miami,” Jennifer went on. “So I have a little more time to spend reassuring residents. Some of them are very concerned about their safety.”

  No surprise there, Dorothy thought. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t accepted Ernie’s invitation to join him and Grace in the dining room tonight. She couldn’t imagine the gossip and alarmist discussions that had to be coursing through Hibiscus Pointe right now.

  On the other hand, why shouldn’t people be concerned about their safety? That’s exactly why it was so important for her and Summer to assist the Milano PD in solving Lorella’s murder as quickly as possible.

  Jennifer set the box of photocopies down next to Summer on the breakfast bar. “I made a few extra of these, Mrs. Westin. You and Summer got so many flyers up we may have more people than we originally expected.”

  “Those weren’t ours,” Summer told her. “Well, some of them were, maybe, but we had some extra help, I think. By the way, any chance we might be able to up the refreshment budget a tiny bit?”

  Jennifer bit the side of her lip. “I did notice that you were advertising food and drinks. I don’t think we actually had much of a budget for that. But since Roger’s not here to approve things, I guess I could make the call to add in some more brownies from the kitchen and maybe a few extra bottles of wine from the Events Catering Department. Just keep the receipts on anything else, okay?”

  “Wonderful,” Dorothy said. “Thank you, Jennifer.”

  The phone at the Resident Services director’s waist buzzed and she checked it quickly. “I’d better go,” she said. “There’s a news crew pulled up in front of the main building. I don’t know why Bill let them in.”

  “He was probably sleeping,” Summer said, and Dorothy shook her head at her behind Jennifer’s back. There was no sense in upsetting the young woman more.

  As she opened the door to see Jennifer out, she was surprised to see Detective Donovan and his grandmother Peggy in the hall.

  “You beat us to it. We were just about to ring the bell,” Peggy said, from her wheelchair. Behind her, the detective gave Jennifer a wave as she hurried down the hall.

  Goodness, her condo was Grand Central Station today. “Peggy, Detective, how nice to see you. Won’t you come in?” Dorothy opened the door as far as possible to accommodate the wheelchair. Summer rushed to help, but Peggy gave a sudden, extra push to the wheels, nearly running over the girl’s bare toes.

  “I just wanted to talk to you about the book club tomorrow, Dorothy,” Peggy said, rolling into the living room, where Mr. Bitey regarded her from behind a potted rubber plant with narrowed eyes. “Maybe you can clear up a few things for me. I don’t want to waste my time reading those racy novels.”

  Detective Donovan cleared his throat. “We were out to dinner,” he said, sounding apologetic. “And we happened to run into Mrs. Rumway.”

  Peggy leaned forward in her wheelchair, her green eyes fiercely bright. “Gladys told a whole table of ladies that you were kicking things off with Passions and Lace. I don’t care how much the author talked it up on Good Morning, Milano, it’s not the sort of thing I care to read.” She sat back again and crossed her arms. “I’m a police procedural fan, all the way. Daughter of a cop, was married to a cop, my four kids and now my grandson here, all cops. So you can see why I—”

  “We also stopped by to check on you and Ms. Smythe-Sloan,” Detective Donovan interjected smoothly. “I was concerned when your first message got cut off, and then that next one from the station that you’d had a near run-in with a possible snake.”

  “And Trixie’s accomplice Ray,” Summer said. This time she didn’t bother correcting him on the formal address, Dorothy noted. Maybe she’d given up.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you’re all right.” Detective Donovan remained standing beside his grandma’s wheelchair. “We’d already issued APBs for all three of them, but no reports have come in yet. We did check out the area around the exotic pet store, and questioned the employee on the premises, but there was no sign of any giant python.”

  “It wasn’t my imagination,” Summer insisted. “The thing was a monster, all wound up in the bushes. And I definitely saw Ray, too. He was there—didn’t the kid in the ball cap tell you that?”

  “Yes, the young man corroborated that his boss was there,” the detective said. “And I’ve been in touch personally with my contacts at Fish and Game to check out the business for any illegal activities. They’ll keep searching for that missing python, too. We did put out the APB, but they’re the ones to officially handle that.”

  “To think that such a huge, dangerous creature could be slithering around Milano,” Dorothy said, with a shudder.

  The detective nodded. “We’ve had reports about all kinds of exotic animals, some of them no longer wanted pets, breeding in the area. Many are released directly into the swamps, which is a perfect habitat for snakes in particular, but they’re prevalent in every part of the state now. Even heavily populated areas such as this.”

  “Let’s talk about something else.” Peggy turned back to Dorothy. “About these book club selections, for instance. Do members have any say in this at all?”

  Oh dear, Dorothy thought. The detective’s grandma certainly had a way of getting directly to the point of things. “In fact, Peggy, I have a list of possible titles right here,” she said, heading to pick up a sheet from the breakfast bar. “I thought we could all discuss it at our first meeting tomorrow.”
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  “Thanks, I’d like to take a look at that, if you don’t mind,” Peggy said.

  “I don’t believe there are any police procedurals on there at the moment,” Dorothy said. “But perhaps you could suggest a few titles.”

  She definitely felt another headache coming on. This whole book club business might prove to be more difficult than she’d expected. No wonder Lorella had been so stressed before her death.

  *

  This is so awkward, Summer thought as she stood next to Detective Donovan while Dorothy and his grandma discussed book club plans. She’d already tried to bring up the investigation, and he’d shut her down pretty quick.

  “So, do you read much?” she asked him, hoping he wouldn’t ask her the same thing back.

  “Not much, I’m afraid,” he said. “I wish I had more time, but the job and keeping tabs on Nana over there”—he jerked his head in the redhead’s direction—”doesn’t leave me much time. When I do get a break, I usually head out on the boat.”

  “I’m more of a movie person, myself,” Summer said.

  “Oh, right, your dad is that bigwig Hollywood guy. You mentioned you were doing some work for him.”

  Summer felt her face flame. Super. So now he thought she’d been trying to remind him about Syd, like some kind of humble bragger. “Sort of,” she said. “I need to get my home theater system installed.”

  “It’s been a while, but if you have the system already, I might be able to help you out with that,” the detective said as his grandma went on talking poor Dorothy’s ear off about all the books she’d read over the past year and a half. “I used to work for Top This when I was in college. Just let me know.”

  “Really?” Summer said. “Wow, thanks, that’d be great. I bought the system and everything, but I haven’t had time yet to make an appointment for the guys to come by. You know, with the case and all.”