Bubblegum Blonde

by anna snow

  I was the absolute worst at following directions. I could barely find my way home at the end of the day.

  "I think that the motel and that cabin are linked to Lydia's death," Kelly said.

  "That's what I think too," I agreed. "And that's exactly why I need to get inside that cabin."

  "Before you hang up, there's something you need to know," Kelly said in a rush of words.

  "What?" I asked. Kelly sounded a bit worried, so I knew that whatever she had to tell me couldn't be good. She wasn't the easily spooked type.

  "Well," she began hesitantly. "Detective Black came in looking for you right after the first time you called this morning."

  "What did he want?" I sat up straight in my seat and scanned the street, fully expecting to see the detective come rolling up beside me. A shiver of anticipation slid across my skin. I shook my head. Thinking about Black as anything more than a friendly pain in the rear at this point was absolutely ridiculous but apparently, if my dreams had anything to say about it, completely unavoidable.

  I guess I'd just have to learn to go with it until I got him out of my system.

  "He asked if you'd been in this morning. Apparently he went by your place, but you were already gone. I think you barely missed him on your way out to the Grove."

  "Did you tell him where I was going?" I asked.

  "Of course not. Who do you think you're talking to here?" She sounded affronted. "I told him that you called and said you had some things to take care of and that I didn't know how long it would take you or when you'd be back. I know he didn't believe me because he gave me that look. You know the one?" Kelly said.

  "Oh, I know the look," I answered and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I'd seen that look a couple of times over our last meetings. So far, I'd discovered that Detective Black had two very effective looks. One could melt the panties off of a nun. The second…let's just say that you didn't want to be pinned with the second unless it was followed up by the first.

  "I'll finish up with what I need to do here and hopefully make it back to the office before he discovers where I am. He's a great detective, so that probably won't take long. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. I have to go. I'll call you once I'm at the cabin."

  I hung up and got out of the car. My loose teal top was starting to stick to my back with the rising afternoon heat. I reached behind me and pulled it away, then discreetly checked to make sure my gun was still tucked securely against the small of my back beneath the top where I always kept it hidden.

  I stepped onto the sidewalk, around a group of board-shorts-wearing teens, and opened the door to the sandwich shop.

  Larry's Sandwich Shop was quaint and much busier than I'd expected. The décor was done in a fifties diner theme with checkerboard tile, a long, black-topped bar, and red-and-chrome barstools. Surf memorabilia covered the walls. A pinball machine stood in the corner, and an old-time Coke bottle machine sat directly across from it. Several teens stood huddled around it like it was a totem to worship. I kind of expected to see those old singers Frankie and Annette step out of the back and start singing at any minute.

  I squeezed into the only open corner booth next to the front window with a clear view of Main Street. I'd only been seated long enough to sit my purse down beside me in the seat when a large man made his way over to my table. He was tall, with a muscular build, short salt-and-pepper hair, a well-kempt beard and mustache, and sparkling green eyes. He was a handsome man to say the least.

  His wife was a lucky woman.

  "I'm Melvin Harris. You must be Tina?"

  I nodded, remembering the false name I'd given him. "I am. How'd you know?"

  He grinned and slid into the booth across from me. "I've lived in the Grove all of my life. I know just about everyone here, including most of the outsiders who frequent the town in the summers. Not to mention, I know everyone in this shop right now except for you." He grinned.

  Melvin was charming. His grin was contagious, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

  "I see." I chuckled.

  The waitress, a twenty-something redhead with legs to die for, came over and took our orders—two turkey club sandwiches with chips and Coke—then she hustled away.

  "So, I understand that you're interested in a secluded cabin. Is that right?" Melvin cleared his throat and leaned back against the bench seat.

  "It is." I nodded. "Melba down at the motel told me you had one available."

  He tapped his fingers on the tabletop and laughed. "Melba. That woman's a piece of work."

  "How so?" I asked.

  "Telephone. Telegraph. Tele-Melba."

  This time I laughed. "Oh, I see. Melba's who you need to go to if you want to get some information around here."

  "Something like that." He nodded.

  The waitress hurried over and sat our orders on the table in front of us, then rushed away.

  Melvin took a drink of his Coke then peered at me.

  "I have to wonder something though."

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "Melba knew that the particular cabin you're interested in already sold. Why would she tell you that it was still available?"

  Good question. Melvin was a sharp cookie. I'd have to be careful with what I said to him. He was no pushover.

  "I'm not sure." I sighed and pushed my food away. "I asked her if she knew of any secluded cabins available in the area. Something lakefront, away from any commotion. She told me the only one she knew of that fit my needs was one that you owned. She did say someone was interested in it a few months back, but she said that she didn't know if it sold or not." I rearranged my actual conversation with Melba and hoped he bought it. He must have because his expression softened, and he nodded as he ran a thumb over his beard.

  "Well, Melba isn't known to be the most accurate source of information," he relented with a grin that lit up his whole face. "Oh, she'll hand it out, but that never means it's accurate. You just have to figure that part out for yourself."

  Great. Everything Melba told me could've been complete nonsense.

  "You said that the cabin sold," I began. "Is there any chance that the person who purchased it would be interested in selling?"

  Melvin's face darkened. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know."

  "Maybe I can talk to them and find out if they'd be interested in selling it? Could you possibly tell me who purchased it, and I can speak with them?"

  I already knew who the buyer was, but I couldn't let Melvin know. If I did, then he'd start asking questions about me and my interest in Lydia, and that could potentially stop the flow of any information he could possibly give me.

  He shook his head and set down his sandwich. "I'm afraid I can't tell you who purchased the place. I keep my clients' information private."

  I started to ask another question, but he cut me off. "Even if I could tell you who bought the property, the information wouldn't help you. The person passed away not too long ago."

  "Oh, I see." I faked surprise. "I'm so sorry to hear that. It's too bad they didn't get to enjoy their new summer home," I said then took a sip of soda.

  "I wouldn't say they didn't get to enjoy it." He shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich.

  "Why would you say that?" I asked curiously.

  He swallowed his bite of food. "There're people there all the time. I see folks coming and going from the place when I drive past from other jobs out that way."

  Who on Earth would be using Lydia's cabin, and would it hinder my scoping the place out?

  "Oh, well, that's great." I smiled, but my mind was in a whirl.

  Melvin finished the last bite of his sandwich and drink of soda.

  "Listen, I have to get going. I have a meeting in about twenty minutes, but if you're still interested in buying or building I'd be more than happy to take a look at what I have available right now and get back to you if I have anything that fits your needs." He reached into the messenger bag he had sitting beside him, p
ulled out some pamphlets, and handed them to me.

  I looked at the gorgeous cabins on the cover and nearly drooled.

  "If you decide you'd like to build," he continued, "there are several different floor plans in there." He tapped a pamphlet on the tabletop. "And they're all fully customizable. We can install just about anything you could possibly want."

  "These are gorgeous," I said in a state of awe. I was a city girl, but one of Melvin's cabins had the potential to change my mind.

  "Thanks." He stood and smiled down at me. "I hate to hurry off, but I have to get going. I have your number in my phone from your call earlier. I'll give you a call if I have anything available fitting your needs, or you can give me a call if you decide that you'd rather build."

  "Sounds good. Thanks again for meeting with me."

  He shook my hand, tossed some money down on the table, then turned and made his way out of the shop.

  I sat there for a minute and finished my late lunch, then called Kelly and told her what I'd learned.

  "But getting inside the cabin might prove to be more complicated than I originally thought." I said.

  "Why is that?" Mandy asked.

  "Melvin said that he's seen people coming and going from the place since Lydia bought it, even after her death."

  "Who else would know about the cabin, and who'd be spending time out there?" Mandy asked.

  "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Now I just have to find the place."

  "We might be able to help you with that," Mandy said. "While you were meeting with Melvin I dug into his rental properties again. The property Lydia purchased is gated with two gates leading into the property and a tall, metal fence surrounding the property. One gate leads into the driveway, and the other is a side gate that leads out to the lake. Believe it or not, the place looks easy to find."

  "What's the address again?"

  She rattled off the address and some rough directions, and I jotted them down on a napkin so that I could input them into Google Maps on my phone.

  "Thanks. I'm hoping to be back before nightfall. If I'm not, close up shop. I'll call when I get back into town, and we can meet up at my place to discuss what I find."

  "I'll bring the pizza," Kelly said with a laugh.

  "Be careful," Mandy warned.

  "I will. Talk to you soon."

  I disconnected the call.

  I tossed a tip onto the tabletop since Melvin had paid for our lunches (what a gentleman), slid out of the booth, and hurried out to my car.

  I fastened my seatbelt then keyed the address into Google Maps on my cell phone. I followed the monotone voice as it gave me directions, and nearly twenty minutes later I found myself in the middle of nowhere with spotty cell phone service just as I'd feared.

  When I'd turned off the main road I had passed several cottages and campsites. Smiling people waved as I drove by. I was still thrown off by how friendly everyone was. The farther I drove, the more desolate the road became. Cabins and campsites became more and more scarce, then nonexistent. I glanced at my phone and wasn't surprised to see that I'd lost service altogether. I followed what I could see of the last image of the map still displayed on the screen of my phone.

  I was beginning to think that I'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when the dirt road abruptly came to an end and turned into a smooth, short paved one.

  I followed the short section of pavement and within minutes pulled up outside the double gate of a wrought-iron fence. This fence was much taller than the one surrounding Hatchett's estate and made a perfect square enclosure around a large, two-story log cabin. The lawn was perfectly groomed, and summer flowers sprouted in the flower beds lining the driveway, along a stone walkway up to the porch then around the house.

  There were three cars in the driveway. The curtains on the second floor were drawn, so I couldn't see if there was any movement upstairs, but the bottom windows were wide open, and I spotted a man walking about inside.

  I eased my car closer to the gate to get a better look and spotted an intercom system sticking out of the side of a stone pillar.

  I wanted to get into the house and do a little investigating, but the fence's height and the inhabitants weren't the only things stopping me.

  Much like the fence at Robert Hatchett's home, the one that had stolen the seat of my pants, this one had spikes lining the top, but where Hatchett's home fence had a space that I'd been able to slide between, this one had a line of several smaller spikes between the taller ones. There was no way to get over the fence unless I sprouted wings, and I was certain that wasn't something that was going to happen anytime soon no matter how much fried chicken I ate.

  The only way in was if I broke in after nightfall, or if I found a way to walk through the front door.

  I sat at the intercom for a moment and tried to decide what I was going to do. I needed inside that place and the sooner the better but under what guise? I had an idea. It was thinner than Trump's comb-over, but I didn't really have any other choice. I gathered up my courage and pressed the intercom button.

  "May I help you?"

  I was startled by the deep rumble of a male voice.

  "I'm Barb. I um—"

  "Do you have an appointment?"

  Appointment? To what? For what?

  "I'm a friend of Lydia's." I said the first thing that popped into my mind. It was all I had in my arsenal at the time.

  "I'll open the gate."

  I couldn't believe my ears, and a second later the gate slid open, allowing me entry.

  I took a deep breath, drove through the gate, and parked behind a gleaming white Mercedes that happened to be parked beside a solid black Jaguar. Needless to say, my red Beetle stuck out like a sore thumb. It was ridiculous, but I felt like the other cars were laughing at me. Like they knew full well that I didn't belong here doing this. Whatever this actually was.

  Getting in the gate was easier than I'd expected, but I didn't expect my luck to hold out. Getting into the house probably wouldn't be as easy. I grabbed my purse, stepped out of my car, bumped the door shut with my hip, and climbed the steps up to the porch. A cool, late-summer breeze blew through my hair as I approached the door. I'd just raised my hand to knock when the door opened, and I was met by what I could only describe as a shirtless Adonis.

  Seriously. An Adonis.

  The man standing in the doorway was absolutely amazing. He wore only loose-fitting, grey cotton pajama pants, and his feet were bare. His hair was a shimmering black, his eyes, blue, and my goodness, he had abs that would've made Hercules himself weep. I wanted to reach out and poke one of them just to see if it felt as hard as it looked.

  I was taken aback by the brilliantly white, welcoming smile that he tossed my direction as I stood gaping at him like a crazy person. I was there to get to the bottom of a murder, but what I really wanted to do was throw myself into his arms and let him cart me into that big cabin to do with as he saw fit.

  Too long without a man was making me crazy.

  Calm down, woman, I chided myself with an inner shake and tried to gather my wits.

  "You're a friend of Lydia's?" Mr. Sexy asked.

  I nodded, still not quite able to trust any words to come out of my mouth.

  "Well please, come in." He stood to the side and waved me past with a large, well-manicured hand. His hands were beautiful.

  I stepped past him into the entry.

  The interior of the cabin was absolutely gorgeous. Dark wood ran throughout the open floor plan. Dark red curtains hung over the windows, and neutral-colored, overstuffed furniture littered the living space.

  "This place is beautiful," I said once I was able to trust myself to speak without making a complete fool out of myself.

  "Thanks. I'm Silas, and you said your name was?" he asked while making his way into the kitchen to the refrigerator.

  "Barb," I cleared my throat.

  "Have a seat, Barb." He grinned at me over his muscular shoulder and pointed to a lo
ng breakfast bar.

  I walked over to the stool and set my purse on the countertop beside me, then slid onto a stool.

  Silas reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, then set it before me on the glistening black granite countertop.

  He leaned his backside against the opposite countertop and eyed me suspiciously.

  "You said you're a friend of Lydia's. How did you know her exactly?"

  I took a drink of the bottled water he'd given me and got myself back into investigator mode.

  "She and I met at one of her charity functions about a month ago," I lied.

  "I see." He rubbed one long finger across his full bottom lip. "And she told you about this place?" he asked. The smile never left his face. "About us?"

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I nodded anyway.

  "Uh-huh, she did."

  "Is everything all right down there, Si?"

  I turned at the sound of another man's voice, and much to my surprise found another work of art staring down at us over the balcony railing. This man had a darker complexion, short-cropped hair, and sported the same drool-worthy body as my host, Silas.

  I had to stop myself from sighing aloud.

  "Everything's fine, Max. I was just having a talk with my new friend Barb, here." He motioned to me, and his grin deepened.

  What on Earth was going on here? I tried to take in my surroundings, but nothing other than the incredibly hot men seemed odd.

  The man I now knew as Max eyed me warily, then turned and reentered what I assumed was one of the bedrooms.

  Maybe these guys were a couple?

  "It's sad what happened to Lydia." Silas's voice drew my attention back to him. "It was a shame." He continued. "She was such a wonderful woman." His gaze held me in place.

  "I can't imagine who would've wanted to kill her."

  I watched him closely.

  "No. Neither can I. You must've known Lydia pretty well for her to tell you about this place."

  "We were becoming close just before she passed."

  If he knew Lydia as well as he appeared to, then he knew that the chances of Lydia and I being friends were slim to none. I needed to get as much information from Silas as I could before he discovered why I was really sitting on his barstool and threw me out on my rear.