Over Maya Dead Body

by Sandra Orchard

  I jumped out of Tanner’s rental and examined the Jeep’s front and passenger side. The vehicle appeared to have been recently washed and waxed . . . to remove blood? “Do you think hitting my dad would’ve left a dent in a vehicle this size?”

  Tanner rapped his knuckles against the bumper. “Not necessarily. More likely crack the plastic bumper.”

  Lisa’s wasn’t cracked, but that didn’t stop my stomach from churning as I strode to her front door.

  “You know that every third person on this island seems to drive a vehicle like that,” Tanner said.

  “Yeah, I know. But every third person isn’t also an old friend of Ben’s.” I hated that I was back to suspecting him, but there it was.

  Lisa opened the door only a crack in response to my knock. “May I help you?”

  “Hey, Lisa, remember me? Serena Jones.”

  “Oh yes, Ashley’s friend from St. Louis.” She opened the door a fraction more, filling the gap with her body. Tanner’s gaze flicked from me toward the drawn drapes at the living room window, but I’d already noticed. “I was so sorry to hear about Jack.”

  “We’re pretty worried about Ben, actually. His friend said he saw him hitchhiking this way the same night Jack was killed. Has he been in touch?”

  Her gasp didn’t strike me as all that genuine. “Jack was killed?”

  Okay, the quaver in her voice sounded pretty real.

  “The news report said it was an accident,” Lisa added, sounding desperate for me to confirm it.

  “We suspect otherwise.”

  From the other side of the door, out of Lisa’s line of sight, Tanner smiled at my obvious appeal to her Jiminy Cricket reputation.

  I furrowed my brow and lowered my voice. “And now a second body’s been found.”

  “It’s not Ben,” Lisa said as if she knew it for a fact, then quickly added, “is it? I mean”—she danced her fingertips through a lock of hair, across her reddening cheeks, then over her lips—“clearly you wouldn’t be asking about him if it was . . . right?”

  Tanner cocked his ear toward the corner of the house and signaled he’d check the rear—standard procedure when arriving to apprehend a suspect. A little more difficult to explain when paying a neighborly call. Then again, everything about Lisa’s body language suggested she was hiding something and maybe buying time so someone could slip away.

  “May I come in?” I asked.

  Lisa glanced over her shoulder. “Let me put my bird away first. He likes to fly out whenever he gets the chance.” The door closed.

  I darted to the corner of the house, but Tanner had already disappeared around the next one. I returned to the door at the same time it opened. As Lisa motioned me inside, Tanner finished his three-sixty of the house and climbed the porch steps in one long stride.

  I quickly apologized for not introducing him earlier and remedied the oversight.

  Lisa welcomed us both inside. “Please excuse the mess,” she said, discreetly pushing a couple pairs of shoes into the closet before closing it. “I’ve been on nights at the hospital.”

  “Your parents still live here?” I asked.

  “No, they moved to the mainland three years ago.” She picked up a mug and a discarded chip bag from the coffee table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Dropping onto the sofa, I declined, but Tanner said, “A coffee would be great, thanks.” The instant Lisa was out of earshot, he informed me that the curtains had been drawn on the windows of the three rooms at the back of the house, but he’d seen movement in the room on the left. Then he tilted his head toward a pair of drinking glasses on the end table. Not that that was conclusive proof she was hiding Ben. I’d been known to collect a few glasses in my living room—all my own—before catching up on dishes. But the men’s watch sitting beneath the lamp . . . that looked suspicious. Like maybe our Jiminy Cricket wasn’t walking the straight and narrow herself these days. It hadn’t exactly escaped my notice that she’d avoided my “has Ben been in touch” question.

  Tanner strolled in the direction Lisa had disappeared and asked if he might use the restroom.

  Nervous energy shuddered across my shoulders and down my spine. Whoever owned that watch could be hiding at the back of the house, waiting for us to leave, or . . . to make a wrong move.

  Lisa strode into the living room carrying a tray with two mugs and a glass. “I thought you might like water.”

  A strange thud drifted from the hallway Tanner had disappeared down, followed by a strangled cry.

  14

  Reaching for my gun, I raced toward the hallway.

  A cockatiel swooped past me, flapping wildly. At the other end of the hall, Tanner grumbled about “stupid birds.”

  Laughing, I slid my gun back into its waistband holster. Okay, so apparently she hadn’t been feeding us a line with the “let me put my bird away first” excuse. Only . . .

  Lisa’s ashen complexion suggested I wasn’t the only one who’d assumed Tanner was tackled by something bigger than a pint-sized parrot.

  “What did you do?” I asked, looking from Lisa to Tanner.

  Tanner smoothed his hair. “I opened the wrong door.” He shuddered. “Sorry, I have a thing about birds.”

  Interesting. I’d have to ask him about that sometime. At the moment, the feather-ruffled cockatiel sat perched on the top of the drapery rod, eyeballing him. Concern over the bird escaping could’ve prompted Lisa’s suspicious behavior at the door earlier.

  “I’m sorry,” Lisa stuttered, “Grayson doesn’t have the best manners. Please, won’t you sit down?” She sank into a plush armchair without waiting for us to sit first and expelled a distraught sigh. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone want to kill Jack?”

  “He was privy to information someone didn’t want out,” I said, figuring I had nothing to lose by admitting that much. If by chance Ben were listening from a back room, at least he’d know that he couldn’t get away with whatever he thought hiding out would do for him. I sat on the sofa while Tanner, who’d apparently decided to forgo a visit to the little boy’s room, held up the far wall, arms crossed, one eye on Grayson.

  “And . . . and . . .” Lisa fussed with the hem of her sweater. “You said someone else close to him is . . .” Her voice trailed off, apparently unable to say “dead.”

  “Charles Anderson. His fiancée’s son.”

  Lisa’s face paled to a color even pastier than before. “How awful. And you think it’s because he knew what Jack knew?”

  “Clearly we’re looking at someone who has no qualms with dispensing of whoever gets in his or her way,” Tanner said, his voice deep and ominous.

  “And Ashley is petrified he’s gotten to Ben too,” I jumped in. If Lisa believed our search was motivated solely by concern for his welfare, she’d have no justification to lie about seeing him, no matter what story Ben had fed her.

  “Maybe this friend of Ben’s mistook another hitchhiker for him,” Lisa suggested.

  “No, we know he’s here.”

  She stifled a strangled sound, her gaze flicking to the telltale pair of drinking glasses on the end table.

  By “he’s here” I’d meant on the island, but clearly Lisa’s guilty conscience assumed otherwise. And I was losing my patience. “Could you ask him to come out and talk to us?”

  She gulped loud enough for me to hear. “He’s not here.”

  I gave her a skeptical look.

  “I swear he isn’t. You can search if you want. I don’t know where he is.”

  I signaled to Tanner to take her up on the invitation, then refocused on Lisa. “But you have seen him?”

  She twisted her hands in her lap and nodded sheepishly. “I found him wandering along the road with a head wound Tuesday night.”

  “I thought you were working nights.”

  “Not that night.”

  I nodded. “Go on.”

  “He said someone hit him with a rock. I offered to drive him to the hospital, but h
e refused to go. I tried calling his uncle’s and Ashley’s, but there was no answer at either place. I let him sleep in the spare room so I could keep an eye on him. Concussions can be dangerous.”

  Tanner rejoined us with a miniscule shake of his head. “When did he leave?”

  “He slept until past noon the next day, which could’ve been partly jet lag.”

  From my experience, when witnesses offered unrequested information, they were usually compensating for what they didn’t want to divulge. I simply nodded and looked at her expectantly, as did Tanner.

  She sighed. “He walked down to Jack’s in the afternoon, shortly before I left for work. He didn’t want a ride.”

  Okay, if Lisa drove her Jeep to the hospital, that ruled out Ben using it to take out Dad and me on the road. But . . . “Did Ben have his backpack when you picked him up Tuesday night?” I asked.

  Lisa shook her head.

  So, he could’ve presumably left it on Jack’s porch Tuesday night and never made it back on Wednesday. Which meant whoever got to Jack and Charlie could’ve already gotten to Ben, too, and used his phone to send that bogus text so we wouldn’t go looking for him. My heart raced. “Did he say who hit him?”

  “He said he didn’t see who it was. He thinks he may’ve been knocked out for a few minutes.”

  Tanner’s eyes narrowed. “Has Ben returned since Wednesday afternoon?”

  “I haven’t seen him again.”

  “Is that a no?” I pressed, since she was far too adept at equivocating.

  She shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve been working nights. He may’ve come back when I wasn’t here.” She glanced up at a clock on the wall. “Oh no, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  Tanner handed her his business card. “If you see him again, please call us immediately. You could be in danger.”

  “Ben would never hurt me.” The certainty in her voice made it clear she wasn’t scared of him and confirmed, more or less, he wasn’t threatening her.

  Tanner helped himself to the coffee he’d been ignoring and finished it in three gulps. He set down the mug with a loud clomp. “I meant danger from the man who already failed to kill him once.”

  A healthy dose of panic flickered in Lisa’s eyes before they dropped to Tanner’s card. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

  We let ourselves out, leaving her to stew on that thought. “Do you think she’ll call?” I asked Tanner as we climbed back into his rental.

  He spun out of the driveway and peered past me into the woods surrounding Lisa’s house. “I’m counting on catching him sneaking back before her shift ends.” He flashed me a grin. “How’s a stakeout dinner sound?”

  “Not as appetizing as Lucky Hank’s,” I teased, ridiculously more comfortable with the prospect of eating takeout in his car while watching Lisa’s house than eating in a fancy restaurant with him. A stakeout dinner was status quo. Not a date.

  “But worth it if it means finding Ben, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We checked in with the others already congregated back at Preston’s house but opted not to tell them Ben had been at Lisa’s or about his injury. While we’d been questioning Lisa, Carly had called Preston and Ashley and told them about her brother’s death, so between that news and not having found any sign of Ben in their search, Ashley was frantic enough without adding another reason for her to be concerned. I excused myself from the group to grab a bottle of water, hoping Nate might follow.

  Mom cornered me between the refrigerator and the sink. “Nate really cares about you. All he did was talk about you the entire time we were searching. And being an apartment superintendent isn’t such a terrible job. He seems very intelligent. Given the right encouragement, he could probably do well in whatever he put his mind to.”

  I gave my head a mental shake. Was that why Mom had been favoring Tanner over Nate? Because he had a better job?

  “Don’t you shake your head at me,” Mom scolded, because apparently I didn’t even have to do it for Mom to know what I was thinking. “You could do a lot worse.”

  “Mom,” I hissed, “this is not the time or place.”

  “Are you still going out to dinner with Tanner?” Mom asked, “because Aunt Martha just invited Nate to join her and Carmen at a seafood place in town.”

  “Yes. I said I would. I can hardly back out now.”

  Nate poked his head around the doorway. “Everything okay?”

  “As well as can be expected. Could I have a word with you?” I shooed Mom out and waved Nate away from the doorway.

  “Did your mom tell you we took Harold down to Ashley’s house?” Nate asked. “Your dad’s allergies were acting up.”

  “Do you think he’ll be okay alone there until I get back?”

  “Sure. Ashley gave him a couple pieces of sea glass to bat around.”

  My thoughts veered to the piece he’d found at Menemsha Hills, and I reminded myself again that Ashley had an alibi.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” Nate prodded.

  “Oh.” I snapped my attention back to Nate. “Yes, I wanted to fill you in on what Tanner and I are doing tonight.” I explained what had happened at Lisa’s and about our plan to watch the house.

  “Takeout, huh?” Nate broke into a full-blown grin. “Makes Lucky Hank’s look pretty good.”

  My answering smile faltered a little at his words. Sometimes I didn’t know what to think of these two guys. Were they really interested in me? Or just in one-upping each other?

  Despite the twinge of self-doubt, I found my gaze lingering on Nate’s smiling lips and remembering how soft they’d felt against my hand.

  Tanner strode in, dark hair windblown, bringing the tang of sea air with him. “Ready to go?”

  “Uh.”

  He cocked a single eyebrow at my eloquent response. “I’ll take that for a yes,” he said drily, his eyes flicking to Nate and then back to me.

  I held up the water bottle I’d grabbed from the fridge, trying to squelch the awkward feeling that’d seized me. It’s not as if they can hear my thoughts, I reminded myself. “All set.”

  Nate winked at me. “Bon appétit.”

  I glanced at the corners of the ceiling for hidden cameras. Completely irrational, I know. But I felt as if I’d been dropped in the middle of a reality TV show and all the juicy conversations were slated for Preston’s kitchen.

  Tanner guided me out to his car with a warm hand at the small of my back, which sent totally inappropriate sensations rippling through my belly. He’s your shift husband, Mom’s voice whispered through my thoughts, and I squirmed.

  “Everything okay?” Tanner asked.

  “Peachy, thanks,” I said, as I pulled open the passenger door and got in the car.

  The salty breeze coming through our open windows cooled my overheated cheeks, and I relaxed a bit at the familiar feeling of working a case with Tanner. “So . . . I’ve got to know. What do you have against birds?”

  He groaned, clearly not eager to relate the story.

  “Let me guess. You were picnicking as a little kid, and a seagull swooped out of the sky and stole your food right out of your hand.”

  “No.”

  “It let loose on your head?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Okay, your family had a pet bird and whenever it got out of its cage, it chased you around the house.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that. Only there were two of them. Lovebirds. And they’d dive bomb my head.”

  I grinned. “Lovebirds, huh? Explains a lot.”

  “You think?” He pulled up to the fish market at Menemsha and put out a hand to forestall me when I slid my seatbelt off.

  “Ordered all your favorites ahead,” he said, hopping out of the car. He stuck his head through the open window. “Prepare to be dazzled.”

  Ohh-kay. Not so familiar, this oddly date-like behavior. But . . . kind of nice. A pleasant warmth sprea
d through me as I watched him pull open the door and disappear into the market. Being pampered now and then wasn’t such a bad thing.

  A few minutes later he strolled back out sporting three bulging paper sacks. He opened my door with a flourish, then handed me the bags one at a time. “Lobster salad. Lobster sandwiches. And—ta-dah!” He smiled before setting the last bag in my lap. “Lobster bisque.”

  “Oh.” My warm fuzziness vanished. “Um, thanks.”

  Irrational disappointment churned through me. Okay, so Tanner clearly didn’t remember the story I’d shared about my regrettable date with the guy who’d tried to impress me by cooking a big lobster dinner and then made me help with the dishes. After I’d thrown up. It was over a year ago, after all.

  And Tanner was so clearly pleased with himself. He’d been trying to be nice, even if he’d missed the mark on the food. I guess it wouldn’t kill me to do a stakeout on an empty stomach. Maybe there were some plain rolls or something.

  I forced a smile as he slid into the driver’s seat, then drew back in surprise when he burst out laughing.

  “Aw, Jones.” He gave my arm a mock punch. “That’s so sweet. You were gonna spare my feelings, weren’t you?”

  “What?”

  He checked for traffic, then pulled out, still chuckling. “I hope you weren’t going to go so far as to actually eat the alleged lobster, so I wouldn’t feel bad.”

  “Alleged lobster,” I repeated blankly.

  He turned and grinned at me. “Because vomit is seriously unromantic.”

  “What?” I said again, then turned the first bag around to look at the order receipt stapled to the top.

  Fish tacos, crab enchiladas, clam chowder.

  No lobster anything.

  “Idiot,” I said and turned to look out the window so he couldn’t see the grin spreading across my face. I loved crab enchiladas. He did get all my favorites.

  Wait. Had Tanner just said ‘unromantic’? Like, as in . . . maybe he wanted this stakeout to be romantic? Then what did . . . ?

  “You cold?” Tanner asked, interrupting my train of thought, which could only be a good thing. He cranked up the heat in the car as he turned back to Quansoo. “We’d better warm it up in here because once we park we won’t want to turn it on again.”