Blazing Summer (Darling Investigations Book 2)

by Denise Grover Swank

“Yeah. Lauren’s got them at Connor’s office. But we can easily grab one.”

  “Okay. We have two goals. One, find Dixie, and two, figure out who set the fires and murdered April Jean.”

  “We need to figure out where April Jean stayed last night,” Teddy said. “Mobile homes can be a death trap in a fire. Maybe the killer tried to kill her last night too.”

  I sucked in a breath. He was right, but it was hard to think about someone being so evil.

  I’d seen the whiteboard in the editing room, so I rolled it out and put it in front of my desk, then grabbed some tissues and started wiping off Lauren’s lists. “We need a crime board. Like you see on TV.” I turned around to face them. “Does anyone know how to do that?”

  “Don’t they usually have the murdered person in the middle of the board?” Chuck said. “Then the suspects are like spokes sticking out.”

  That sounded like a plan. “Okay.”

  I wrote April Jean in the middle, then wrote in the four corners: Civil War marker fire, Bruce Jepper’s fire, April Jean’s trailer fire, and thrift store fire. “Now what?”

  “I think we’re supposed to find a commonality between all of them,” Chuck said.

  Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?

  I groaned. “We’re wasting time.” I turned to Teddy. “Gut instinct—what happened to Dixie?”

  He swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was tight. “She had no reason to run away, and we know she didn’t do this. If she was hiding somewhere, she would have called one of us by now, even if she doesn’t have her phone. That leaves one conclusion. Someone took her.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I agree. So now, gut instinct—who took her?”

  “Trent Dunbar.”

  I nodded again. “And I haven’t even told you about my interview with one of Dixie’s friends who was at the party.” I told the group everything Clementine had told me: Dixie going to the bathroom at right about the time Rick Springfield left; Dixie and April Jean fighting; Clementine leaving around midnight while Gabby, Mark, and Amelia stayed behind; and Bruce Jepper just showing up. “Bottom line, there was only a handful of people still there after my source left—and when she offered to take the very passed-out Dixie home, Trent said he would do it. We need to talk to Trent ASAP. Before someone else gets to him.”

  Teddy sat back in his chair and shook his head. “He’s never gonna talk to me. We hate each other.”

  “I think he’ll talk to me,” I said, “but it’s one of those no-cameras situations.”

  Tony tugged his phone out of his pocket. “On it. I can have the hidden camera in a half hour, tops.”

  Chuck cleared his throat. “You’re forgetting something.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your interview with the fireman.”

  “Crap.”

  “Garrett?” Teddy asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Teddy pursed his lips. “See if you can meet Dunbar. Then we’ll head to Garrett’s after.”

  “You think meeting with Garrett is worth the time?” I asked. “Luke took a call at Maybelline’s that was about Bruce’s fire. He insisted the fire at the thrift store was different because there hadn’t been a body in Bruce’s house, and he was about to say something else when he cut himself off.”

  “Then we definitely need to talk to Garrett. He responded to all four fires,” Teddy said. “That’s how we start with finding our commonality. He’ll talk.”

  “Okay. I need Trent’s phone number.” I grabbed my phone and texted Amber.

  Do you have Trent Dunbar’s cell number?

  She answered in less than half a minute with the number, then sent another text immediately afterward.

  What did you do to piss off Luke? He’s madder than I’ve ever seen him.

  At least we knew where he’d gone off to.

  We had a difference of opinion. Is he still there?

  Yeah, he’s in his office making some phone calls. LOUD calls.

  At least he wasn’t yelling at me. But who was he talking to? The sheriff’s department? I considered asking Amber but decided not to press my luck. Thanks. And good luck.

  I glanced up at the guys. Tony had just left, presumably to get the equipment, and Bill had picked up his camera. “You’re calling the douchebag next, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Put him on speaker, and let me record it.”

  Chuck went into the back and returned with his boom microphone, which he held over my head. I glanced over at Teddy, who wore a grim expression. I suspected he already knew how this conversation was going to go down—and he clearly wasn’t pleased with the notion of my playing Trent. Still, we all knew this was the best way to get information.

  “Ready,” Bill said.

  I sat on top of Dixie’s desk and then counted down with my fingers. “Three, two . . .”

  I placed the call, still mulling over the best approach. Trent was used to women hanging on him, and any other time I’d play hard to get—it had driven him crazy at the lumber-mill office—but I didn’t have time for a long-term plan. I needed to see him like five minutes ago.

  “Hey,” he said when he answered.

  “Hey, yourself,” I said in a sultry voice.

  “Who is this?” He sounded intrigued.

  “I’m hurt you’ve forgotten me already. Yesterday you seemed eager to spend time with me. There was mention of a threesome.”

  A dark look crossed Teddy’s face.

  “Summer?” he asked in surprise, then turned cocky. “You led me to believe you weren’t interested.”

  “Well . . . I was with Luke, and I couldn’t let him see I had a thing for you, now could I? I’m bored. This Podunk town’s got nothin’ goin’ on, and rumor has it you’re the source of all the local entertainment. Is that true?”

  “What kind of excitement are you lookin’ for?” he asked.

  Teddy looked like he was about ready to snatch the phone out of my hand.

  I ignored him, focusing on sounding breathy. “What’s your specialty?”

  “My parents are out of town. Why don’t you come over and let me show you?” Trent sounded beside himself with excitement, but he was still trying to play it cool.

  I rolled my eyes at the mention of his parents. “When?”

  “Baby, I’m ready for you now.”

  “I’ll be over soon.”

  I hung up and looked at the camera. “Let’s hope this guy’s horny enough to tell me what I want to know.”

  “Exactly how far are you willing to go to get it?” Teddy asked.

  I pinned him with my gaze. “Exactly how far are you willing to go?”

  He got up and walked out the door, but unlike Luke, he stuck around, pacing the sidewalk in front of the office.

  “He has a valid point, Summer,” Bill said. “This jackass is expecting to get laid, and I suspect he’s not much into foreplay.”

  “Look,” I said in disgust, “I have plenty of experience with guys who want to sleep with Isabelle Holmes of Gotcha! It’s quite the trophy. They don’t want me. They want a character I played over a decade ago. I suspect Trent Dunbar is the same way. I know how to handle him, and I’m leaving with information.” My expression softened. “But Teddy shouldn’t go with us. He’s always been overprotective of both Dixie and me, and he won’t be able to handle the situation without storming inside. We need to find something else for him to do.”

  “Maybe he can go prep Garrett,” Chuck said.

  “Yeah, maybe.” But it didn’t seem like enough. “How about we send Tony with Teddy to talk to Gabby and Mark? He can get them to tell him what happened after Clementine left.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Bill said. “He’s not even on the show.”

  “He was on the show last season, and women loved him. It’s perfect, but he’ll need to set it up.”

  “What makes you think they’ll talk to him on camera?” Bill asked. “There’s only one hidden camera, and you’
ll be using it.”

  “Trust me, Gabby would kill to be on TV.” Anyone so obsessed with designer purses and shoes would sell a kidney for her chance to be a Real Housewife . . . “Oh!” I ran to the door and called out, “Teddy, I have an idea.”

  He came inside, looking only slightly less peeved.

  “I want you to go interview Gabby Casey and her boyfriend, Mark. I think you know him.”

  His expression didn’t change. “We went to school together.”

  “One of the reasons the guys were at the insurance office was to set up an interview with Gabby about the party. I want you to ask her and Mark what they remember about Dixie from that night—”

  “What makes you think they’ll talk to me?”

  It was risky to send Teddy, and I could only hope my plan worked. “Gabby will kill to be on TV, so she’ll agree to the interview, but the second part involves some lying.”

  His eyes darkened. “I’m good with that.”

  I blinked. “Okay . . . first let them believe you’re just looking for information about the party. Act like you’re good and ticked at Dixie so you don’t give the impression that you’ll beat Mark’s ass for anything they tell you.”

  “That’s gonna be difficult, but if I can pretend to be a drug dealer, I can handle this.”

  “We still haven’t gotten to the big lie.”

  His head jutted back. “Okay . . .”

  “Tell Gabby that the network is so happy with the show and the town that they’re lookin’ into doin’ a Real Housewives of Sweet Briar, and your interview is also an audition for the show. She’ll spill her guts.”

  He looked skeptical. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I’ve met more Gabby Caseys than I can count, and for a while they thought if they were BFFs with me, I’d be their golden ticket to fame and fortune.”

  His expression softened. “I’m sorry, Summy.”

  I shrugged even though the memories still stung a bit. “It’s in the past, but we can use my hard-earned lessons to our advantage. I hate playin’ her like that, but—”

  “I’m not Luke Montgomery,” Teddy said. “You don’t need to convince me. I’m totally on board.” He paused. “But I take it this is your plan to get me out of the way when you go see Trent.”

  I gave him a twisted grin.

  He pushed out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess we each have our own row to hoe.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a lump in my throat.

  He slid his phone out of his pocket and made a call. “Hey, Mark,” he said, sounding light and breezy, and I realized I wasn’t the only one in the family who’d gotten the acting gene. “It’s Teddy Baumgartner.” He paused, then said, “Say, my cousin Summer’s given me a job on her show, and I wanted to talk to you and Gabby about it . . . Gabby in particular. We’ve got her in mind for a special project comin’ down the pike. I was wonderin’ if I could drop over . . . like within the next half hour.” He listened for a few seconds, grinning at me. “Sounds great. Text me the address, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

  His approach was brilliant.

  He hung up and gave me a half shrug. “I figured it would be easier to get in the door if I lead with the opportunity. I can ask about the party as part of her audition.”

  My shook my head in amazement. “You’re a natural.”

  “Pawpaw always said Baumgartners are natural-born bullshitters.”

  His statement tickled a few memories. “Yeah. I guess he was right. You sure you want to do this?”

  He reached for the forgotten takeout bag of food and pulled out a Styrofoam container and some plasticware as he sat down in a client chair. “I’ll have a hard time waitin’ thirty minutes to go over, but I suspect Gabby’s gonna want time to pick up her house first.”

  I grinned. “That’s pretty astute of you.”

  He shrugged as he shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “I’ve had a girlfriend or two,” he said with a mouthful of potatoes.

  “Eww . . . I take it back,” I teased.

  “You need to eat too,” he said, pulling out another container and shoving it toward me. “It was your idea.”

  I slid off the desk and took the container, then sat in the chair next to him. “I’m not sure I should eat before going to see that scumbag. I might lose it later.”

  He stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth. “You don’t have to go see him. There’s another way to get information out of him.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Does it involve you goin’ over and beatin’ the crap out of him until he talks?”

  “I plead the Fifth, but it’s probably better if no cameras are involved.”

  I opened the container, and my stomach started growling as soon as I got a whiff of Maybelline’s pork tenderloin. “That’s not gonna work, and you know it. Even if he talks under pressure, we can’t be sure he’s telling us the truth, and if we’re gonna use this, we don’t want to make the viewers hate you. That meme of you shirtless in the cotton field from last season is makin’ the rounds on social media. We’re likely to get even more viewers, thanks to you and your abs.” I bumped my shoulder into his arm.

  He grinned, but it slid off just as quickly. “If beatin’ the crap out of Trent Dunbar is what it takes to find Dixie, I’ll gladly do it, many times over.”

  “I think my way is a much more effective approach with Trent Dunbar,” I said. “But if it doesn’t work, we’ll explore other options . . . including your fists, should it come to it.”

  I only hoped Trent knew something useful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I’d never been to the Dunbar property, but everyone knew where to find it. The Dunbars owned countless acres off County Road 172, and the huge log-and-stone house was clearly visible from the road even though it was set back several hundred feet. It was easy to see why they called it a ranch. When the wrought-iron fence lining the road came into view, I slowed down and glanced over my shoulder at Bill, who was sitting in the back seat.

  “This is it.”

  He scrunched down so that he was lying sideways in the seat, trying to stay out of view. “Turn your camera on so I can make sure it works before you pull in,” he said. “You’ll only have two hours of battery, but let’s hope you get what you need long before then.”

  My hidden camera was a completely nondescript pendant hanging from a necklace. I reached behind it and flipped the switch as I turned through the open gate onto the long stone driveway. “Looks like he’s prepared for me,” I said. “From what I hear, the gate’s usually closed.”

  “Or he forgot to close it after his party.”

  “Possible . . .”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Of him? Nah. I can handle Trent Dunbar. I’m nervous that I’ll handle this all wrong and walk away with nothing.”

  “He could be a murderer, Summer. Don’t underestimate him.”

  Bill was right, but I couldn’t let myself consider that. I was just here to find out everything I could about the party last night. Still, I found myself saying, “What if Trent killed April Jean and hid Dixie away to protect her?”

  “Or make her a suspect,” Bill said in a dry tone.

  Or worse . . . but my mind couldn’t go there.

  Trent was the obvious culprit, but something just didn’t feel right. “Trent spent all those years being nice to her. He visited her at juvie. I find it hard to believe he’d just turn on her.”

  “Didn’t Clementine tell you that he snapped at Dixie last night? Told her he didn’t owe her anything anymore?”

  My stomach cramped. “True, but it doesn’t matter, Bill. I need to know what Trent knows. Whoever took Dixie from the party probably started the fire at April Jean’s. If he can tell me who she left with, at least we’ll have something.”

  “You can get that easy, Summer. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  I glanced over at him. “Thanks.”

  I parked in
the circular drive, leaving my car facing the front of the house to help Bill stay hidden. My stomach churned, and my palms were sweaty. I took a deep breath and slowly pushed it out.

  “We need a code word in case you get into trouble and need help getting out,” Bill said.

  I turned off the engine and wiped my hands on the skirt of my dress. “Pickles, although I’m not sure what you can do to help. Just call 911.”

  “I’ll have your back if things go badly.” He said it with the utmost sincerity.

  I took another deep breath and pushed it out. “Wish me luck.” But I was already out and had the door closed before he could answer. No turning back now.

  I walked up to the double front doors and shook my head a little when I saw the door knockers—each in the shape of a bear’s head. I was reaching for the one on the right when the door opened.

  Trent filled the doorway, wearing a pair of tight jeans and nothing else. A devilish smile lit up his eyes. “You came.”

  I resisted the urge to make a that’s-what-she-said crack. Instead, I gave him plenty of sass. “I was the one who called you.” Best if I sent a message right away about who, exactly, was in control.

  He backed out of the way and gestured for me to walk in. I smelled beer on his breath as I walked through the two-story round entryway leading into an equally tall living room with a stone fireplace. A wall of windows faced a swimming pool, and beyond that, I could see the infamous pond.

  “What’s your poison?” he asked as he made his way to a wet bar.

  For a brief moment, I took his words literally. Get it together, Summer. I turned at the waist to face him. “What are you havin’?” Even though it was obvious from his breath.

  “A beer. My dad has a great import on tap.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He pulled two glasses, then walked over and handed me one.

  “You have a beautiful view,” I said as I took the glass.

  He held on to it so that our fingers touched, and stared into my face. “Yes, I do.” Then he gave me a grin that I was sure worked on most of the women in this town, but I’d swum with enough sharks to recognize one sidling up to me.

  I gave the glass a tug, pulled it from his grasp, and moved a few feet away. I couldn’t make this too easy for him. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”