Fuck! How could Demar two-time Sally? She said there was another woman and she was right. Keeping his anger in check, Quaid opened the bar door without ripping it off its hinges—a major feat. Sally was a friend, had been since the days before he had any. Smuggled him sandwiches when he was hiding from Pete, gave him a blanket and let him sleep in the storage room when things were tough. Four cases of beer shoved together and a rolled-up apron for a pillow made a pretty damn good bed.
A slow night, the bar only half full. Sally served a platter of barbecue to a couple in the back and gave Quaid a friendly wave. “Hey, good looking,” she said as she came up to him and kissed him on the lips. “Where have you been all my life, sweet cakes?”
Taking grief from Cynthia, watching your man cheat on you. But he said, “Loafing and proud of it.”
Sally went around the bar, cracked open a Bud and handed it to him. “On the house.”
He took a long drink and leaned across the polished wood. “Meaning you want something. I know that innocent look that isn’t so innocent.”
Sally laughed. “That’s what happens when you grow up together. We know each other too well, Quaid O’Fallon.” They exchanged looks that underlined what she’d just said. Then she nodded to the corner. “Preston needs cheering up. Something happened over at Ivy Acres and I don’t know what. Not a word of gossip on the subject and Preston’s not telling, but he sure is down in the dumps about it.”
“And I’m your cheering committee?”
“You walked in the door, you got the job. I got a bar to tend to, Dad’s watching the game upstairs and Demar’s minding the grills.”
Wanna bet? “Tell Slim there’s pie waiting for him over at Hastings House. Dad’s there on a plumbing problem and wants company.”
“I’m surprised that old house hasn’t floated away with all the plumbing problems going on over there. Personally I think it’s a cover for something else.”
Quaid nearly choked but kept his cool. “Like what?” He took another casual swig.
“Haven’t figured that out yet. Let me know if you hear anything.”
“I better see to Preston. I feel responsible, since Rory hired him.” Quaid wove his way through the tables toward the corner one. If the plumbing at Hastings House had Sally suspicious, others wouldn’t be far behind. And if Sally found out, everyone would know. Sally Donaldson, Harvard MBA, was also a BMA—biggest mouth around. If you wanted to know something—ask Sally.
Quaid sat down at the table as Scrapper Blackwell’s “Bad Liquor Blues” trilled from the jukebox. “Heard there was a situation over at Ivy Acres and you got caught in the middle of things.”
Preston frowned, not looking up from his beer. “Bad news travels fast.”
“Not as fast as you think. The only reason I know what happened is because Cynthia gave me hell for sending you to Ivy Acres in the first place. Did you really get in the shower with Ida?”
Preston turned as red as his Hawaiian print shirt. Like Rory said, Preston drew the attention. Flamboyance was a good thing. They needed him to stay at the Landing and for people to think he was the one gathering information on Mimi.
Preston said, “Over in Rockton there’s an escort service, Lord and Ladies. Real hush-hush, but run by a guy named Landon, a regular sex machine.”
Quaid nearly slid out of the chair. “Edward Landon?”
“Never knew the first name but when you told me about Ivy Acres…”
“You thought Ida Landon was the…sex machine?” He could barely get the words out.
“Seemed to fit…the house, the name, maybe a franchise. But she’s not that way at all.” Preston took a swallow of his beer. “I screwed things up big and the real trouble is I like Ida, I sincerely do.” Preston gave a sad smile. “We watched Magnum together. She likes it.” His smile collapsed. “But now she thinks I’m the scum of the earth. I’m in such a funk I can’t keep my mind on the case. I came here to maybe talk to some people, see if anyone’s seen anything suspicious.” He leaned closer. “It’s my professional opinion that the bad guys will come here hoping Mimi will contact Rory.”
Quaid gave a casual shrug. “I think she’s smarter than that.”
“There’s Bonnie. A mother can’t stay away from her baby, everyone knows that.” Preston’s hunch deepened. “But I can’t help you and Rory anymore. I don’t want to be here if I don’t have a chance with Ida. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. Been single all my life and then I met my little magnolia blossom and I don’t want to be single a minute longer. I even made breakfast for us the other morning. Ida can’t cook for beans but I don’t care, I’m a great cook. We ate in the garden, talked about visiting Hawaii. It was truly heaven.”
Think, man, think! He had to find some way to keep Preston here. “What if I can help you win Ida back?” Except he hadn’t a clue how.
“She hates me, it’s too late.” And as if to prove his point Ida strolled in, eyed Preston and strutted on over. “My stars, are you still here, Preston Wright? You have some nerve being in my town. I thought you’d have the decency to leave and not bother decent folks.”
“I apologize, my pet.”
“I am not your pet, Preston. I am a church-going decent woman. A pillar of the community.”
“Can you give me another chance?”
“And why ever would I do a thing like that?” She stuck her nose a little higher in the air.
Quaid said, “Because Preston wants to make it up to you.” If he could just think of how in the hell to do that. Ivy Acres could use the money, that was for sure, but Ida wouldn’t take kindly if he blurted that to the world. “Preston can cook…for you…for the other guests. He likes to and you need a cook.” Was he brilliant or what!
“We don’t have other guests.”
“But you will if Preston helps out. Bet he can cook rings around Thelma, and the word will get out and you’ll have more guests than you know what to do with.” If Thelma ever got wind of this he was dead meat.
Preston brightened. I can do breakfast and dinner, and that leaves time for my private eye work during the day. Like Magnum. He lived at the estate and worked security, and took on other jobs.” Preston gazed adoringly at Ida. “It would be my total pleasure to cook for you.”
She harrumphed. “Well, the only reason I’ll let you do such a thing is because you scared the living daylights out of me, Preston, and this is…penance.” She leaned closer to him and wagged her finger. “But you should know right here and now there will never be anything between us. There simply never could be.” She turned in a huff and strutted back to the bar.
“See,” Quaid said as he patted Preston on the back. “You’re in.”
“But she said there will never be anything between us.” Preston nodded at the bar. “And look, that guy in the white jacket and gray hair is making eyes at my magnolia blossom and she’s making eyes right back. What’s the use? My goose is cooked.”
“Hey, would Magnum quit? Would he let the other guy win the girl?” Quaid clinked his longneck to Preston’s. “You have to fight for what you want.”
Preston sat straight in his chair, his eyes clearing. “You’re right. I never thought of that. I had a little setback is all. Magnum had setbacks all the time, never got the girl till the second part of the show.”
“Well there you go. This is your second act.” And Quaid hoped Preston did succeed and not just for hanging around to help out the O’Fallons, but because he was a nice guy. Though Quaid wasn’t all that sure about Ida Landon being a nice woman, but that was Preston’s choice.
Sally scurried over, panic on her face. “You got to get Ida out of here fast. She’s ordering brandy.”
Quaid held up his beer. “This is a bar, that should work okay.”
“Not when one drink leads to another and then another. Cynthia can’t come get her because she can’t leave Lawrence, and he’s sleeping. I promised I’d look out for Ida. She must have gotten a ride here with someo
ne because Cynthia hid her car keys. That means you have to take her home before she gets sloshed.”
Quaid put down his beer. “Since when are you and Cynthia Landon buddies?”
“Since she did me a favor. Now are you going to help me or do I have to beat you up?”
Preston said, “My little magnolia likes brandy?”
“Is the bear Catholic?” Sally shook her head. “Or whatever that saying is. Hurry.”
Quaid stood. “I’ll see what I can do. But right now I’m thinking the Landon women are considerably more trouble than they’re worth.”
Sally sucker-punched his arm. “And you really expect me to believe that line of malarkey? I know how Cynthia looks when she talks about you and I know that look in your eyes when you talk about her, and that look has nothing to do with trouble and a whole lot to do with mischief.”
“Looks don’t mean squat. She told me today she wanted me out of her life.”
“And since when has what someone else wanted ever gotten in your way, Quaid O’Fallon? It just makes you more determined than ever and you know it.”
“All of a sudden you’re on Cynthia’s side?”
“Like I said, she did me a favor. Can you get a move on?”
Quaid grinned. “Must have been a humdinger of a favor.” He gave Sally a quick kiss and approached Ida sitting at a table by the bar. “Mrs. Landon, Cynthia needs you back at the house.”
Keeping a protective hand on her brandy, Ida looked up at him, her gray eyes glassy. Seems that Ida was a lightweight in the booze department. No wonder Cynthia was concerned. Ida said, “Why would she call you, Quaid O’Fallon? Is there something wrong with Lawrence? Last time I checked there wasn’t a soul at our bed and breakfast so why would she need me this very minute?”
“Lawrence is fine. Sally got the call and I can take you home if—”
The gray-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard and dressed in a white sport coat, sitting at the bar, sprang to his feet. He stepped in front of Quaid and faced Ida. “Well now, this is indeed my good fortune.” He did a low bow to Ida. “My name is Beau Fontaine of the Charleston, South Carolina, Fontaines, and I find myself in desperate need of a place to stay while setting up a new restaurant establishment here in town.”
He took Ida’s hand and kissed the back of it as she fluttered her eyelashes. “And lo and behold it turns out this pretty lady right here in front of me has such a place at her disposal. It was meant to be, my dear.” He offered the crook of his arm to Ida. “If you would permit me the honor of taking you home to your daughter and grandson. And I will be forever in your debt if you would allow me to stay at your charming bed and breakfast. I would consider it a great and personal favor.”
Ida held her hands to her breast. “Why my dear Mr. Fontaine, how you do go on.” She stood, smiled and slipped her arm through his. “I am thrilled to meet you, a fine southern gentleman.” She glanced Preston’s way as if to say So there, you oaf. Then she and Beau Fontaine of the Charleston Fontaines strolled out of the bar.
Preston came over and Quaid said to Sally, “Didn’t go exactly like I planned, but it worked.”
Preston looked totally forlorn. “For you, maybe. Ida now has a boyfriend. I don’t think she knows I exist.”
“Magnum? Second half hour, remember?”
Preston shook his head and sighed. “Maybe I should forget about staying on here. I’m from Milwaukee and no match for some smooth-talking Southerner.”
“Hey, you’re a private investigator, you don’t give up on your case. You’re the man.”
“The invisible man.”
“I’ll walk you to your car. Go back to Ivy Acres and see what happens there. Maybe this Beau guy’s not as suave as he seems.”
“Maybe the earth is flat,” Sally said to Quaid as he headed for the door. “While you’re out there, tell Demar he can shut down the grills. I think we’re done for the night. And it’s a darn good thing too. He burned that last batch of ribs. I think the man’s losing his touch.”
That depended on what he was touching, the gal in his arms seemed to be happy with it. Quaid followed Preston to the red VW.
“Just be yourself. You’re a great guy, and if Ida’s too thickheaded to see that, another woman will snap you right up.”
“But I don’t want another woman. I’m smitten.” Preston drove down the street.
The question now was, should Quaid say something to Demar about seeing him with that other woman or butt out? The real question was, could he say something without decking him on the spot? Maybe it was just a one-time thing for Demar, a lapse in good judgment, and it wouldn’t happen again. The best approach was to clear the air between him and Demar—let Demar know Sally was a friend, and no one mistreated Quaid’s friends. Except when Quaid got to the back porch Demar was already playing tonsil hockey with Miss Long and Lean.
Quaid caught Demar’s eye and he took a step away from the girl. “Want something, O’Fallon?”
“Like breaking your fucking neck. Sally could come out here any minute and find you like this.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Go to hell, Thacker.” Quaid opened the back door and stormed his way to the front of the bar, anger eating at his gut. What was he going to do now? Tell Sally? Not tell her? Shit!
He felt a big hand on his shoulder and Demar said, “If you got something to say, say it, O’Fallon.”
Quaid turned. “How about you’re a fucking asshole, that clear enough for you?”
Chapter 6
Blind Boy Fuller’s “Lost Lover Blues” blared as Demar narrowed his eyes, anger pumping through his body. So Sally was Quaid’s friend, big fucking whoop. This wasn’t his business. Jett was Demar Thacker’s gal and everybody better damn well get used to it, starting now.
Demar swung hard, Quaid ducked the blow and leveled one at Demar’s ribs. He grunted from the impact, sailing into a table, scattering beer and patrons. A woman screamed as he scrambled to his feet, fury making him mean and fast. He leaped at Quaid, knocking them both hard against the bar as he sent a blow to Quaid’s jaw and Quaid’s fist connected with Demar’s eye. Demar caught a jab to his gut, then the corner of his mouth, leaving the metallic taste of blood. He hit Quaid’s shoulder, then his nose.
Longnecks and glasses crashed to the floor, stools toppled and Sally slammed a baseball bat against the top of the bar, yelling, “What the hell are you two doing!”
Slim appeared in the kitchen doorway, shotgun in his arms, looking more grizzly bear than man. “By God, that’s enough or I’ll blast you both with buckshot.”
Demar staggered back and Quaid did the same, Slim bellowing, “Take it outside and don’t either of you set foot in this here establishment again till I get an apology.”
Breathing hard, Demar wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, pulled a fistful of bills from his wallet and threw them on the bar as Quaid did the same to cover damages. Demar headed for the door, and when he got outside he felt Quaid’s presence behind him. Demar spun around and threw a blow that Quaid blocked with his forearm, bringing them face-to-face, breaths hot and fast, gazes locked. Quaid said, “I don’t give a shit about you fucking up your life, but you’re fucking up Sally’s too. She loves you, dammit. She loves you a lot.” He dropped his arm. “Ah, screw it! You’re too stupid to understand, you’re thinking with your dick.”
Quaid turned away, heading for the O’Fallon house. Demar watched his retreating back then made for the back porch to check on Jett. He’d left her in a rush and wanted to make sure she was okay…except there was no Jett. Insects circled the porch light over the smoldering grills, an owl hooted in the trees, August humidity closed around him and he was alone—again.
He tore off his apron and dropped it on the steps where it landed in a soft white heap. He must be out of his ever-lovin’ fucking-proud mind. He banged his head against one of the wood uprights supporting the roof. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Jamming his hands in h
is pockets, he cut behind the pile of new lumber then crossed the street to the O’Fallon house. He needed some answers and his brain felt too fractured to find them. Besides, Quaid would be more than happy to knock some sense into him.
The driveway curved up to the house, making a circle. Quaid sat on a white wicker chair, head back, ice bag on his face, another covering his knuckles. Demar felt his right eye swelling shut. “Least I’m not the only one in pain.”
“I think you busted my damn nose.”
“Just for the record, you’re right about me fucking up my life.” Demar took the ice pack from Quaid’s knuckles, plopped down on the settee and applied the pack to his eye. “Don’t suppose you have any whiskey handy.”
Without looking up, Quaid passed over a bottle of Jack Daniels Black Label. Demar took a swig, the alcohol burning the shit out of his mouth; then again, he had it coming. “A year-and-a-half ago Jett dumped me for my best friend. She shows up here sweet as you please with Demar you’re the greatest and I can’t live without you on her lips, and I bought it.”
He paused, letting that much sink in as he figured out what the hell was going on. “I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with the idea that she came back to me strutting her stuff. It’s one hell of an ego trip.”
“And you’re confessing all this, looking for absolution from screwing around on Sally?”
“Never got to the screwing stage.” Thank God! “The question is, what’s Jett’s game? I’m a cop, here looking for Mimi and the guys after her. Jett’s a cop and all of a sudden she’s here too.”
Quaid pried open his eyes as Demar added, “Suddenly she’s paying one hell of a lot more attention to me than ever before. That’s a lot of coincidence in my book.”
“Probably your imagination.” Quaid slowly sat up. “Let’s take a walk down by the docks. I got to check on some tows and you can help me load cable.” Quaid slid his feet from the table and stood. “Come on, move your ass.”
“I’m in pain here, man. You damn-near killed me.” Then he felt Quaid’s eyes staring at him hard, his right brow arcing a fraction. This was not about a damn walk or cable. “Right, a tug. Be still my heart.” Demar got up, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. Quaid chuckled. “Too much barbecue, not enough running?”
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