Beauty & Bloodshed

by Stephanie Damore

  I swear, the man actually growled.

  My eyes widen. Not because I was afraid of Mr. Roberto, but because this could be a clue.

  “A few of the staff called in when they found out we weren’t cutting back operations. They want some time to prep before the storm,” Aunt Lupe explained as she walked behind the front counter. She smiled and greeted the other morning workers.

  I didn’t blame them. I’d want some time off too. But still, it was suspicious. “Is it possible I could get their names? There might be a lead here.” If I attacked someone at work, I’m thinking I’d probably call off too.

  Aunt Lupe looked from side to side before sliding a list out from her bag. “I’m already ahead of you. I started writing the names down as soon as I got wind of it.” She passed me the list.

  I read it. We had Miguel the second shift manager, Carmen in housekeeping, and Angel the groundskeeper. My aunt had also included their contact information. I folded the piece of paper in half and planned on checking each person out, as soon as I tended to a little family matter.

  “Aunt Lupe, what time are you getting out tonight?” I asked.

  My aunt looked uncertain. “With Miguel calling off, I might not.”

  “Who’s going to help at the house to prepare for the storm?” The look of uncertainty remained.

  “Uncle Jose better not,” I said.

  My aunt furrowed her brow. I knew she agreed with me, but we also knew a stubborn gene passed through the Diaz family. “No, you’re right. The last thing I need is for your uncle to try and use the ladder.”

  My uncle suffered from multiple sclerosis and wasn’t the most compliant of patients. And he definitely didn’t like being told he couldn’t do something. In fact, he was probably attempting to hang the hurricane shutters on the house as we spoke.

  “How’s he doing? He was pretty vague about it when I asked the other night at dinner.” Being the good niece that I was, Finn and I had dined with them on our second night on the island.

  “He has his good days and bad days, but I don’t think the numbness ever fully goes away.” I felt for them both for different reasons and wanted to do whatever I could to help.

  “I have an idea. How about you tell me what needs to be done at the house, and Finn and I will head over and get started.”

  “I can’t have you do that. You’re on your honeymoon,” my aunt protested.

  “Yes, and we’re family. I’d try to convince you to fly home with us if I thought you would.”

  Aunt Lupe dismissed my concerns. “Your uncle doesn’t think it will be that bad. Not a direct hit, anyway.”

  “But you’d still like the storm shutters up,” I said for her. “Let us at least do that while you keep a lookout here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Call me if Mrs. Hayden turns up or if any other clues pop up.”

  I swung back by the barista and ordered a large black coffee for Finn and nabbed a couple of giant cinnamon rolls to go. I had a feeling we were going to need our fuel to power through today. Finn was already up and in the shower when I walked back into the room.

  I poked my head into the steam-filled room. “Hey, are you up for a little storm prep this morning?” I asked.

  “I can be. What’s up?” he replied.

  I filled him in on the plan. “With any luck, we’ll be done by noon and then we can start hitting the suspects,” I said. I knew we were in a race against time, but I also couldn’t turn my back on my family.

  Sure as sugar, my uncle was pulling a ladder out of their single car garage when we pulled up. Finn put my aunt’s car into park and jumped out to give him a hand. I took a little bit more time getting out, assessing just how much work needed to be done. If I could use only one word to describe my aunt and uncle’s home, it would be warm. The stucco exterior of the single-story, two-bedroom house was painted the color of cream and accented by a terracotta-tiled roof and a front door painted deep blue. The double palm trees and red hibiscus hedge in the front yard added to the home’s charm. At that moment, I got why my uncle was determined to stay. He had his own little piece of paradise right here. I only hoped it would still be standing this time next week.

  “I told Aunt Lupe we’d stop by and give you a hand,” I said when I reached my uncle.

  “Awfully nice of you, but I’m sure I could’ve managed,” Uncle Jose replied.

  “I know, but this way it’ll get done faster. I know Aunt Lupe appreciates it, too.”

  My uncle frowned. “Who knows what time she’ll get home tonight.”

  “I know, I heard.”

  “I wish she didn’t have to work there.”

  “Why’s that?” I had my suspicions, but Aunt Lupe said it was a good job.

  “It may pay well, but that boss of hers is a real creep. I don’t like him one bit,” he said.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more. Hopefully he’ll get someone to cover the night shift.” Even as I said the words, I knew Mr. Roberto probably wouldn’t. And I doubted any of the staff would extend him any favors.

  I helped with the first couple of storm shutters until I realized I was more in the way than anything else. I knew my way around a toolbox, but Finn and my uncle were much more proficient than I was. That was cool by me. I had work to do.

  Using the power of the Internet, I looked on Google maps to see where the disgruntled employees lived. Not to stereotype, but maybe one of them lived in a shady part of town and finances were at play here. I was reaching, but Mr. Hayden could have paid one of the workers to help dispose of his wife’s body. If that was the case, whoever needed the money the most would probably have been most willing.

  I remembered reading an article that stated more banks were robbed at Christmastime than any other time of the year. People could do abhorrent things when they were desperate for money, things they would never think they were capable of. Could that be what happened here? It was way too early in the investigation to make assumptions, but not too early to look at motivation. Who had the most the gain? It was a question I’d learned to ask myself and one that I often overlooked.

  “Hey, babe, can you do me a favor?” Finn asked.

  “What’s that?” I asked, looking up from my phone.

  “We’re going to need more screws.” Finn held up the rather impressive-looking hardware. “Would it be possible for you to run out and grab a few while I secure the patio?” I eyed the lawn furniture and the grill. I hadn’t even thought we’d need to bring that stuff in. It was official. I was the worst storm prepper ever.

  I stood up from the very same patio furniture that Finn was referencing. “Sure, no problem.” He handed me the screw to make shopping easier. I was never good at remembering the specs. Two and three fourths inches? Three and a quarter? Did it really matter? Finn knew me well.

  “Where’d my uncle go?” I asked him.

  “He said he was getting something to drink, but it’s been a little bit. You might want to check on him before you head out.”

  I did just that and found him snoozing in his recliner. His resemblance to my dad was uncanny. I couldn’t resist tucking the light throw blanket around him, even though the temperature was pleasant enough, and kissing him on his forehead before ducking out. I really wished we lived closer. I think it would be good for both of them. My aunt would have more choices for work, and my uncle would have the company of his brother and sisters during the day. I could picture my dad and uncle sitting in matching recliners and watching a ball game. It made my heart smile, and I wondered if any amount of coaxing could ever make that dream a reality.

  Those were the thoughts that filled my head as I made the short trip a few blocks down to the neighborhood hardware store, along with everyone else who needed last-minute supplies. I eyed the line and debated for a second, wondering just how important those screws were. I then thought of the half dozen un-shuttered windows back at the house and thought, important enough. I stifled a sigh and walked in
to the crowded store front, hoping to grab a pack of screws that at least slightly resembled the one in my hand.

  I was in the hardware aisle looking for something that would work when I saw Mr. Roberto. At least I thought it was him. The man was short and bald like the GM I knew, but this man was dressed in running shorts and a plain white T-shirt. Wasn’t Mr. Roberto back at the hotel? I was starting to think he had a twin brother or a doppelganger, but the moment the man opened his mouth, I knew the men were one in the same.

  “What do you mean you don’t have any calcium oxide? When are you going to get it in?” Mr. Roberto demanded.

  “Well, sir, that depends on how bad this storm is. Shipments usually come in on Sundays if they’re able to.”

  “Do you know if management has ordered any?” Mr. Roberto asked.

  “Generally, if something is low in stock, it’s automatically ordered.”

  Mr. Roberto barked out a short, humorless laugh. “I doubt that. If that was the case, you would’ve never run out.”

  That’s not necessarily true, I wanted to say. One can’t always predict supply versus demand. My own beauty business taught me that. Generally, I knew when a product was going to be a hot commodity, like my new fragrance line, but I had no idea that Miss A-list celebrity was going to walk the red carpet sporting a shade from my new lip line. The demand for the shade skyrocketed overnight, and I had to see if we could shift production or outsource the color some other way. However, I highly doubted Mr. Roberto wanted to hear the laws of economics from me. In fact, he was already storming out of the store, grumbling the entire way.

  I really did not like that man. I also thought it was pretty hypocritical for him to take some time off today while he had my aunt pulling double shifts now. Mr. Roberto’s behavior had earned him a new name from me—snake.

  When I got back to my aunt and uncle’s house, Finn was sitting on the front porch with a can of Coca-Cola in hand. He was ready and waiting to finish the shutters. Now if only he had taken his shirt off, we’d be in business. I sighed, handing the box of screws over.

  “What?” Finn asked.

  “Oh nothing, just thinking about this being our honeymoon and all.” I gave Finn a wicked smile despite my best effort not to.

  “I like the way you’re thinking. Does this mean you’ve solved your case?”

  My smile faded. “No, darn it.”

  Finn’s expression matched my own. “Well it was worth a shot. Give me fifteen minutes and we’ll be done here.”

  “Okay, I’m thinking we’ll try and track down Miguel first. His address is closest to us.”

  4

  Forget living in the ghetto. Miguel Mercado, the nightshift manager, was living the high life. The word mansion didn’t do the property justice. Estate was more like it. Workers were milling around the property, completing much of the same tasks Finn and my uncle had just wrapped up, but on a much larger scale.

  “Impressive,” Finn commented as we drove up the ocean-front property’s driveway. “Are you sure this is the right address?” he asked me.

  “Trust me, I’ve triple checked it at this point, unless my aunt wrote down the wrong one.” I was thinking that could’ve been a real possibility.

  I recognized the logo made out of inlaid bricks in the driveway from our rum tour earlier in the week. Note to self: Don’t make any other plans after visiting a distillery. We had initially booked a rainforest hike following the rum tour, but yeah, that didn’t happen.

  I scanned the piece of paper again and read Miguel’s last name. Mercado. Mercado Rum. I pointed it out to Finn.

  “Well, would you look at that,” he said.

  “One in the same, right?” It had to be. What were the chances?

  “So, the question becomes, what’s a rich kid like Miguel doing working the night shift for Mr. Roberto?”

  “I have no idea.” I should have asked my aunt for more information. I felt like we were going in blind and I didn’t like it, but what other choice did we have? “Let’s go up and find out,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt.

  We walked up the red-bricked steps and rang the bell. At that instant, it sounded as if a pack of miniature pooches were charging us. Their paws ping-ponged off the large, dark stained door with resounding thuds. I imagined the other side of the door raked in scratches from years of abuse. The pups continued to yip and bark during their assault. Someone on the other side attempted to quiet them down to no avail. She answered the door anyway.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked in Spanish. She was probably in her late fifties. Her black cherry dyed hair was cut to a bob, and it had a sheen the likes of which I had never seen before. Was it avocado oil? Or coconut oil? I wasn’t sure, but it would be awesome to find out. A glossy shine without gunky build up? Yes please. My customers would be forever grateful.

  My attention went back to the question at hand. I would’ve answered the woman immediately, except the littlest dog in the pack, a long-haired miniature Chihuahua, wasn’t having it. The dog snarled and nipped, and Finn took a step back. I didn’t blame him. Though the pup was little, he was fierce.

  “I’m sorry, one moment,” the woman said.

  “Wow,” Finn said when she walked away.

  “I know, right? Forget needing a gun for home defense. Just get us one of those.” Of course, a dog like that would probably terrify our own little fluff ball, Captain Jack. Usually, seeing another little dog made me miss my puppy at home, and this time was no exception. However, instead of just missing Captain Jack, I was eternally grateful that he didn’t bark like that. Our little guy was a good boy.

  The woman came back after a moment, dog free. “I’m very sorry about that,” she said.

  “Oh, no worries,” I replied, also in Spanish. “We were just looking for Miguel. Is he home?”

  The woman made the sign of the cross. “Oh no, don’t tell me my boy’s done it again,” Mrs. Mercado said.

  “Done what again?” I asked. Finn unfortunately had no clue what we were saying. Now if we had honeymooned on St. Martin, he’d be the one doing the talking.

  Mrs. Mercado ignored my question. “I used to blame it on those Acosta boys, but they turned out okay. Why must my Miguel go looking for trouble?”

  Normally I would’ve clarified that Miguel wasn’t in trouble, or that I didn’t know if he was, but we were on a time crunch and this woman didn’t seem to question our authority.

  “Mrs. Mercado, do you by chance know where your son is?” I asked.

  The woman shook her head no. “Not since yesterday morning. I thought he would be home after work, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

  “He works at The Casa, correct?” I asked.

  “He does. His father thought it would be good for him to get a job, give him some real-world perspective, but I’m afraid it hasn’t helped.”

  “Any idea where we can find him? There was an incident at the hotel yesterday, and I’m talking with the staff to see if they saw anything.”

  “Incident? What sort of incident?” Mrs. Mercado’s concern grew.

  “Unfortunately it’s still under investigation, so I’m not at liberty to discuss, but if you see him, could you have him give me a call?” I pulled a business card out of my wallet. My new business cards. They were a wedding gift from my bestie’s hubby, Vince (the adrenaline junkie). At first I laughed it off, thinking it was a joke. The glossy white cards simply had my married name, with the word consultant titled underneath, and my phone number. A new number. Did I mention the gift came with a prepaid cell phone? After my last murder investigation, when someone attempted to run me over by first distracting me via text, Vince said I needed to be smarter and keep my business interests separate. He was right of course, but at the time I hadn’t thought it very necessary. Now I saw exactly where he was coming from. It would’ve been absolutely ridiculous to hand Mrs. Mercado my glittery pink Sugar & Sass business card. Chalk up one point for Vince. Although I was still annoye
d about the surfing recommendation to Finn. If Vince had never suggested it, I would’ve never witnessed whatever it was that I saw.

  Mrs. Mercado took my card and read it over. I waited for the questions to follow, but she didn’t ask anything.

  “Is there any place in particular Miguel likes to hang out?” I asked.

  Mrs. Mercado seemed to hesitate. “I hate to say it, but he’s probably at Mix Masters.”

  “The recording studio?”

  “Unfortunately. You’ve heard of Eminem? Well, he’s M&M,”

  “As in his initials?” I asked.

  “You got it.” Mrs. Mercado rolled her eyes. “His father and I are so proud. I believe his lyrics are just about as original.”

  “Thanks. I’ll head there next.”

  “Ask for him or Slim Jimmy,” she added.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Jimmy Sanchez, but he goes by Slim Jimmy now, I believe. He’s Miguel’s best friend.”

  Oh good gravy, “Okay, I’m on it. Thanks so much.”

  We said our goodbyes, me throwing in a comment about staying safe with the approaching storm. The latest forecast, which came in at 11 AM, showed the storm was now a Category 4, and despite my uncle’s insistence, it looked like the monster storm had its eye on my family’s island home. Time was quickly running out.

  “What did we just learn?” Finn asked me once we were back in my aunt’s car.

  “That Miguel is a bit of a troublemaker,” I said.

  “How big of a troublemaker are we talking? Like curfew breaker or gangbanger?” Finn asked.

  “Not sure. But it didn’t surprise her that someone with authority was looking for him.”

  “Did she say why he worked at The Casa?”

  “Sort of. She said that her husband thought a job would be good for him, but it hasn’t worked out so well.”

  “So, where is he?” Finn asked.

  “Good question. She hasn’t seen him since he left for work yesterday.” I let the weight of that statement hang in the air before continuing. “But he likes to hang out at Mix Masters. It’s a recording studio.”