Sunset Beach

by Mary Kay Andrews

  “What for? You don’t do guns, and I don’t have any pockets in these pants.”

  He looked down at her. “Are those pajamas?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Okay, I’ll put it in my pocket.” He thrust it into his hip pocket, where it stuck out comically.

  “No. You’ll probably shoot yourself in the nuts, like that guy in the Walmart.” Drue laughed. She knew she was punchy, but she didn’t care. “Leave it here.”

  She went to her purse and dug out the can of Mace, which she promptly stuck in her bra.

  “Where’d you get that?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “A gift from my ‘uncle Jimmy,’ as he put it. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  They kicked off their shoes and left them on the edge of the deck. When they got down to the water, they both rolled up their pant legs and walked companionably along, letting the warm water lap at their ankles.

  At one point, Jonah stopped and pointed at the lights of Sharky’s. “Look,” he said, a devilish glint in his eye. “Someday, we’ll tell our kids that’s where we met. And had our first kiss.”

  She shook her head and kept walking, smiling despite herself. She stopped, a couple hundred yards farther, and pointed to the dune line. “If I remember correctly, that’s actually where the first kiss occurred.”

  He caught her hand in his and laughed. “And things went downhill from there, in a hurry.”

  “I thought I told you none of that ever happened,” she said, giving him a stern look.

  “How could I forget those golden hours in your arms?” Jonah teased.

  “And how could I forget the sight of you doing the walk of shame the next morning,” she retorted.

  They walked on and paused again, when they saw the mass of the Gulf Vista up ahead.

  Drue shuddered involuntarily, thinking of Jazmin Mayes’s sad fate there.

  “You know,” Jonah said, “I saw an article in the business section of the Tampa Bay Times this week. It said they’re going to rebrand the place, and knock down the original part of the hotel that dates from the 1970s. They’re going to build a fancy state-of-the-art spa and fitness center in its place.”

  “That explains why that wing was almost totally vacant Friday night,” Drue said thoughtfully. “I guess it’s a good sign that they’ve got the money to expand. Hopefully, Dad is going to sue the living daylights out of them on behalf of Jazmin’s mom, now that we know the truth about how and when she was killed.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “Did I tell you yet that I think it’s pretty cool what you did? Figuring everything out? Maybe you should think about going to law school and following in your old man’s footsteps.”

  “Never,” she said quickly. “The thought of three more years of school is more than I can bear. Sitting at a desk all day? Like I do in that damned cubicle of mine? No thanks.”

  “What about becoming an investigator? Like Zee. You never see him sitting at a desk.”

  “It’s crossed my mind,” she admitted. “I always liked puzzles. And mysteries.”

  “That’s how you got so wrapped up in that missing woman thing?”

  “You heard?”

  “Yeah. I only pretended to be asleep, to save Brice’s pride. But you don’t actually still believe that Zee or your dad had anything to do with that, right? I mean, Brice flat-out denied it.”

  “And I want to believe him. I really do. But he lied to me about it from the beginning, and so did Zee. And the other thing is, which I didn’t bring up with my dad tonight, I actually went and talked to the last woman who ever saw Colleen Boardman Hicks. Her name is Vera Rennick. She worked at a dentist’s office with her. On the day Colleen disappeared, back in 1976, they went shopping and had dinner together. Colleen told her, ‘I’ll see you Monday.’ And then she vanished.”

  “Doesn’t mean your dad killed her,” Jonah objected. “Just because they had an affair.”

  “Vera Rennick has this true-crime blog now,” Drue said. “I found it online. When I went to see her, she told me that a few months before Colleen disappeared, she insisted they go to Mastry’s. For lunch. A place women just didn’t go back then. While they were there, Colleen stopped to talk to two uniformed St. Pete police officers, who were sort of flirting with her.”

  “And you think it was Brice. And who? Zee?”

  “Maybe. I showed her a photo of them. She wasn’t sure. But Dad and Jimmy Zee were best friends even back then. They were in the Marine Corps together in Vietnam, and when they got home, they went through the police academy together,” Drue said. She shook her head, as though trying to shake off the disturbing images that had taken up residence there.

  “Maybe you should straight-up ask Zee about it,” Jonah suggested. “Get it all out in the open.”

  “Maybe, once all this stuff with Ben is over, I will,” Drue said lightly. “I’m only one woman, you know. I can only solve one mystery at a time.”

  They’d turned around at the Gulf Vista, and wandered slowly back in the direction of Coquina Cottage. They paused and Drue frowned at the sight of the blue tarp draped over the roof.

  “I’m gonna have to break down and get a new roof,” she said with a sigh. “I got a notice from the city last week. I’m in violation of some stupid building code.”

  “The joys of home ownership,” Jonah said. He reached out and turned her toward him. “You know, we were supposed to have a do-over tonight. I had dinner reservations at a fancy restaurant near the Vinoy, and big plans for us.”

  “And I’m sorry about that,” she said earnestly. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

  He kissed her lightly, and she leaned in and wound her arms around his neck, and the kiss deepened. When they finally parted, she sighed again.

  “What’s that?” he asked, looking concerned. “Regret?”

  “A little,” she said. “Not about this, just about the way things started with us. And about the time I’ve wasted since then, hating your guts.”

  “But lately, my irresistible charm has grown on you, hasn’t it?”

  “Don’t push your luck,” she told him.

  “Maybe we could continue this conversation inside?” he asked. “Since we’re both too tired to sleep, possibly we could find some other distraction?”

  “You’re relentless. You know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  They picked up their shoes on the edge of the deck and went into the darkened house.

  “Hey there.” They heard the click of a light switch, the lamp on the table beside the sofa.

  Ben sat in the armchair. He had the revolver, and it was pointed at Drue. “Welcome back.”

  He wore a baseball cap with a backward bill and a blue and white polyester bicycle racing jersey, with the words TEAM DANGERBOY written in script across it.

  Drue took a step backward and her breath caught in her chest.

  “What do you want?” Jonah asked, his voice menacing.

  “Just thought I’d drop by to check in on Drue.”

  “To make sure she was dead?” Jonah asked. “You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”

  “Aren’t we all sick bastards, deep down inside?” Ben giggled a little at his own joke.

  “The thing is, I was just about to leave the tournament. In fact, I was standing outside, about to head home on the Vespa, when I saw half a dozen cop cars roll up. And I said to myself, ‘Dude, this is not good.’ So instead of going home, I thought I’d come out here and pay Drue a visit. And maybe borrow her car. I think that’s fair, don’t you? Since I’m the one that got it running again?”

  Drue stared. “Are you high?”

  “Just a little bit,” he said, giggling again. “I’d offer you some of mine, Drue, but we both know it doesn’t agree with you.”

  “So take the car and go,” Jonah said. “You got your money from the insurance people, right? I’m sure you weren’t planning on sticking around, especially
now. So just go.”

  “See, the money thing is off,” Ben said, his mood turning angry. “Everything was all set, until Drue decided to stick her nose where it didn’t belong and fuck me over.”

  He waved the revolver from Jonah to Drue, then back to Drue. “Rookie move, Drue. Leaving a gun in an unlocked house. Whose gun is it, just out of curiosity?”

  “It’s my dad’s,” Drue said. “You hurt me, Ben, and he’s coming after you. And he’ll never stop until he’s caught you and locked you up.”

  “No doubt,” Ben said. “But I’ll be long gone by the time he figures it out.”

  He smiled at his former colleague. “Hey, my man. You don’t mind if I borrow that sweet Audi of yours, instead of that crappy car of hers? I mean, making a getaway in a white Ford Bronco, it didn’t work out so good for the last guy, did it?” Ben snapped his fingers and held out his hand, palm up.

  “Fuck off,” Jonah said. “This ain’t Grand Theft Auto.”

  Ben pointed the revolver at a spot directly over Drue’s head and fired. She jumped reflexively, the shot ringing in her ears.

  “The next shot I fire will be in her head,” Ben said calmly. “Now give me the fucking keys.”

  “Okay,” Drue said, her voice shaking. “Jonah doesn’t have the keys. I’ve got them.”

  “In your pajama pants?” Ben’s voice mocked.

  She reached into her bra. “No. They’re right here.” Her hand closed over the can of Mace and she took a step toward him.

  “Hand ’em over,” he repeated.

  Her hand trembled, but she fixed her thumb over the nozzle, extended her arm and emptied the can of Mace directly into his eyes.

  He screamed and managed to get off one wild shot in the air, just before Jonah charged him, head-butting him to the floor and cold-cocking him into unconsciousness.

  She stood there, stunned, gazing down at the two men sprawled across her living room floor. The next thing she knew, her front door was being broken down.

  Jimmy Zee charged into the room, his weapon drawn. He looked from her to Ben, whose bloody jaw was now arranged in a new and unnatural way, to Jonah, who’d seated himself atop the unmoving man’s chest.

  “Oh, little girl,” he said, shaking his head and looking at Drue. “What have you gone and done?”

  59

  August 20, 1976

  The storm raged on. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning sizzled on the deep blue horizon. Inside the cottage, the lights flickered and then the house went completely dark.

  The rain was so loud, she felt rather than heard his footsteps on the deckboards. But she didn’t look up until he put his hand on her shoulder.

  She was huddled at the edge of the deck, her arms wrapped tightly around her folded knees, looking like a drowned kitten. An empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat beside her.

  “She’s out there,” Sherri said, looking up with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. She pointed toward the fringe of Australian pines.

  “Okay.” He tramped off, his sneakers sinking into the wet sand. He wore a black windbreaker and his usual dark sunglasses, despite the deepening twilight. He was back moments later.

  “Is she…?”

  He chewed his gum, switching it from one side of his mouth to the other. “Yeah. Do you have a tarp or something like that?”

  “A tarp? What good’s that going to do if she’s dead?”

  “I’ve got to move her, Sherri,” he said patiently. “Before somebody comes along and finds the body.”

  “There might be a painter’s drop cloth in Papi’s shed.”

  “I’ll get it,” he said. “Go inside and dry off. And no more of that,” he said, pointing at the empty bottle.

  “That’s all there was in the house,” she said sadly. “Or I would have drunk that too.”

  He sat down beside her on the edge of the deck, oblivious to the rain, their bodies close but not touching. “You want to kill yourself?”

  “That was the plan,” she said. “Her, and then me. But I’m such a chickenshit, I can’t seem to do it.” She lifted the revolver, dangling it from her middle finger.

  “Brice’s service revolver? Christ, Sherri!” He took it from her. “That’s what you shot her with?”

  “What else? You know I don’t like guns.”

  He stood up and pulled her to her feet, then stuck the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

  “Go on, now. I’ll deal with this. How soon do you think Brice will be back?”

  “Around nine? The class he just started taking this quarter only meets at the USF campus in Tampa. Or it might be later. He won’t drive across the Howard Frankland Bridge in a storm like this. You know how he is about that bridge.”

  “Right.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, he knocked on the glass of the doors. He was soaked, and rain dripped from his nose. “Do you happen to have the keys to the handcuffs?”

  Her reactions were still dulled from the shock and the whiskey. “They’re in the cigar box where he keeps the cuffs.”

  “Get them, please.”

  She looked over his shoulder and shuddered at the sight of the rolled-up lumpy form resting at the edge of the deck where they’d just been sitting.

  When she came back with the keys he took them and knelt down beside the lifeless form.

  “Here.” He handed her the handcuffs and the keys. “Get a towel and wipe them off good, then put them back in the exact same place you found them.”

  “Okay.”

  He handed her the revolver, and she took it, reluctantly.

  “Do you know how to clean one of these?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Brice showed me when he taught me how to use it.”

  “Good. Clean it like he showed you, then take a towel and wipe it down completely and put it back where he always keeps it.”

  “What about you? Where are you going?”

  “Like I said, I’m going to take care of that.” He jerked his head in the direction of the corpse.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked. “Any other sign that she was ever here? Think, Sherri. This is important.”

  “I’m trying, Jimmy,” she said plaintively. “But my mind’s not right. Everything’s all mixed up. Oh, wait. She left her train case on the floor of the front seat of my car. She said it’s full of money.”

  “I’ll deal with that too.”

  The lights flickered back on again, revealing an upended chair, a broken glass and a wet spot on the wall-to-wall carpet.

  “You need to get the place straightened up,” he said.

  “I will. I’m sorry, Jimmy, that I got you mixed up in this. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “It’s okay. That’s what friends are for, right?” He touched her face, and she flinched. There was a nasty gash across her nose. She had a black eye and a huge bruise on her right cheek.

  She caught his hand in hers and released it a second later. “What am I going to tell Brice about my face when he asks?”

  He thought about it. “I know. There’s a big tree limb out front that must have snapped off one of the pine trees in the storm. Tell him you went outside to roll up the windows of the car, and the branch hit you as it was coming down.”

  “Good thinking. You’re a smart guy, Jimmy. You know that?”

  “You’re smart too. Just do what I told you. And then forget any of this happened.”

  She had her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, chilled from the dampness. “How do I do that? I killed her. How do I live with that?”

  “You’ll figure it out. Anyway, you didn’t kill her. The bullet barely grazed her shoulder. That riprap out there is covered in slimy seaweed. When she fell, she hit her head on one of those rocks and cracked her skull. That’s what killed her. Not you.”

  “But what will you do with the body?” she asked. “What if you get caught with it?”

  “I’m not gonna get caught,” he repeated. “I’m a smart guy, remember?”
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  60

  “I’m gonna call your dad and let him know you’re okay,” Zee told Drue, holding up his cell phone. “And then, I guess we’d better buzz your pal Rae Hernandez, so she can call out the cavalry for this piece of shit.”

  He poked Ben in the side with the toe of his black motorcycle boot, then looked up expectantly at Drue. “You got any coffee?”

  “If you’ll show me where the coffeemaker is, I’ll make it,” Jonah offered.

  “In the kitchen,” Drue said. “Come on. I’ll help.”

  “We can all go,” Zee said. He prodded Ben’s ribs again with his boot. “This asshole isn’t going anywhere.” He gave Jonah an admiring salute. “Good work, my man. I think you managed to break his jaw. But you’re probably going to need some ice on that hand of yours.”

  “What about me?” Drue demanded. “I’m the one who sprayed him with the Mace.”

  “Which I gave you,” Zee reminded her. “Like they say, team workmakes the dream work.”

  * * *

  They were sitting on the deck at dawn, sipping their coffee, when they heard the police sirens approach.

  “How did you even know Ben was here?” Drue asked Zee, who’d just returned from walking out to look at the water.

  “Your dad called and woke me up when he couldn’t reach you,” Zee said. “Which reminds me. You need to recharge your phone. He asked me to do a drive-by, just to make sure things were okay here.”

  “Why didn’t he just come himself?” Drue asked.

  “He couldn’t leave Wendy, because she was spotting again. He said she was having a rough night.”

  “She had a rough night!” Drue exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “In the past forty-eight hours I’ve been arrested, interrogated, poisoned and shot at.”

  Zee punched her shoulder lightly. “You’re a tough kid. I mean, woman. Like your mom.”

  Before she could ask him what he meant by that, they heard cars pulling up at the front of the house.

  * * *

  It was after eight Sunday morning by the time Brice met them at the Treasure Island police station, with three Mocha Grandes and three toasted bagels. Drue and Jonah sipped coffee and devoured the bagels while they waited for Hernandez to join them in the cramped conference room.