Eyeliner & Alibis

by Stephanie Damore

  My plans changed abruptly when I spotted the dead body floating face-down in the surf. Make that the dead body of a rich man. He had to be rich, given the expensive suit and watch he wore. His jewelry glinted in the sun. My first thought was this was no robbery, seeing that he was still in possession of his valuables. My second thought was there was no way I was calling it in. I debated what to do. I considered leaving the poor fellow and letting someone else deal with it. Heartless? Maybe, but I didn’t want to think what would happen if that detective found out that I had discovered another body. I had a feeling that she didn’t believe much in coincidences.

  I started to backtrack and ran right into the happy couple from above. The woman screamed when she saw the body. The dead man’s shoulders lifted ever so slightly with the rolling waves, marking a morbid cadence. It was the type of scene that would’ve freaked me out, a body or two ago. But now? Now I just rolled with it.

  The fiancé’s eyes went wide and he pulled his bride-to-be closer to him when he spotted the poor chap, now lying face-down in the sand. He looked from the body to me, shock clearly on his face, seemingly searching my eyes for answers. I just shrugged and blew out a puff of air. So much for pretending that I hadn’t been there.

  The investigation of the crime scene had gone about as well as I could have expected. I should have left. I wormed my way out of calling the body in and wanted to hightail it out of there before the police—and most likely, Detective Blackwell—arrived, but I knew she’d eventually find out that I was there. So, I waited. It seemed like the kind of thing an innocent person would do. I tried to explain that to Detective Blackwell when she arrived, but that didn’t work.

  “So, tell me again why I’m sitting in an interrogation room?” I asked.

  “You never told me our victim embarrassed you on national TV Friday night.”

  “I wouldn’t say embarrassed. It was more like she was having an off day.”

  “I saw the tape. It was brutal.”

  I grimaced at the memory, and Detective Blackwell confirmed that it was as bad as I’d imagined. I knew Finn was lying when he had said it wasn’t too bad. Lying seemed to be a habit Finn picked up somewhere along the way. Unless it was a talent he had always possessed. I couldn’t think about that jerk right now though, not with Detective Blackwell staring me down, hoping I would slip up and she’d be able to finger me for two homicides.

  “Let me lay it out for you,” the detective continued. “You were seen this morning going back into the building and sneaking around the offices. That behavior alone is suspicious, not to mention you’re the one who called in the murder yesterday and you were present when they found Sterling’s body this afternoon.”

  I couldn’t fake the shock on my face. “Sterling? That was his body underneath the lifeguard tower?” I never did get a look at his face and I hadn’t cared at the time to ID him. After all, what was the chance I would know him? I was on vacation, after all.

  “Let’s also not forget the fact that witnesses heard you and your boyfriend fighting this morning.”

  “We weren’t fighting. It was a … disagreement.” I looked around the room, half expecting Finn to materialize, but he was nowhere to be found. I wondered if he had been brought in for questioning, or was I the only lucky one?

  “Did he kill her? Is that what you two were fighting about?”

  “What? That’s absurd. Clearly, you don’t know Finn Hudson at all.” I reminded myself that, apparently, I didn’t know him that well either, but Detective Blackwell didn’t need to become privy to that little tidbit.

  “Where’s your boyfriend now?”

  I had to admit that I had no idea. I was going to tell her that I half expected him to be in the room next door, but I didn’t want to give her any ideas.

  I tuned out Detective Blackwell’s ranting and thought back to the conversation I had overheard this morning between Sterling and Rupert, the mystery man. What had Sterling said exactly? That he would take care of it. Clearly, that didn’t happen. Or did it?

  “Is there any chance it was a suicide?” The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if Sterling killed Marissa and then himself. Why, I wasn’t sure. Maybe he realized he wouldn’t get away with it. He was obviously involved in her murder somehow.

  “Why, is that the look we’re going for?” the detective asked me.

  I was about to fill her in on what I had overheard, but I dropped it, thinking it would be pointless. Detective Blackwell obviously didn’t think very much of me or my theories, so I kept the rest of the information to myself. Even if withholding evidence was a crime. Besides, I really wanted a chance to track down Claire and get some information out of her. I had a feeling she was a big piece of this puzzle.

  6

  It was almost 9 P.M. when I was finally able to leave the station. I may have willingly allowed her to question me, but that was the end of the line for my hospitality. If she wanted to talk to me again, I’d have a lawyer present. I knew the detective wanted to detain me, but she and I both knew she had nothing on me. It wasn’t a crime to find two dead bodies. For me, it seemed to be more of an occupational hazard. I stood on the sidewalk outside the police station and checked my phone to see if I’d missed any calls or texts from Finn, but I hadn’t. His silence surprised me and left me more angry than I’d ever admit. I looked up and down the street and plotted my next move. I had a feeling Detective Blackwell would be a permanent fixture in my life until she had another suspect to focus on. Therefore, my plan was to find her another suspect, perhaps even the real killer. I needed to talk to Claire. Besides, I much preferred working on solving a murder, make that a double murder, over dealing with my personal life in that moment.

  I used the app on my phone to call for an Uber and waited for him to come take me to the airport. Detective Blackwell would have a field day if she thought I was skipping town, but I wasn’t. Not really. I was just going back home, and she knew where to find me. I thought for a second about taking a flight back as opposed to driving, but who was I kidding? I wasn’t about to board any aircraft without my Xanax prescription. Flying was not my favorite thing to do, unless it was on Aria’s husband’s private jet. That I could manage. For now, I opted to rent a car.

  It was about a six-hour drive from Tampa to Port Haven, one I didn’t mind making solo this time. There was no way in hell I was about to ride across town with Finn, much less across state lines. It was probably smart of Finn to avoid me right now because, I swear, if he were anywhere near my car, I might’ve accidentally swerved and run his butt over. Okay, okay, I wouldn’t do that, especially since his butt was a pretty darn nice one. Still, I was in no mood to deal with Finn Hudson anytime soon.

  As the hours slipped by, so did my resolve. My eyes glistened with tears threatening to spill over my cheeks. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could swallow them back. I blamed my mood entirely on sleep deprivation and the depressing music that filled my car. I was only one country song away from becoming a hot mess.

  How did I let this happen? Of course, I knew the answer. Finn was my perfect neighbor. A genuine good guy with a knack for fixing things, most of the time without his shirt on, which may have sped the process of me approaching him. He was the kind of man a girl dreamed about meeting. I never realized that before, or maybe I just never admitted it before. Regardless, all of that was total rubbish now. But why? What had happened? How had I not seen this coming? Those questions plagued me for the duration of my drive. I wasn’t sure what my next steps were or how I was going to move on from this. Finn’s deceit ripped my heart open. Being ever the optimist, I told myself this could be a good thing. I’d never been good at commitment, and it had taken me a long time to come around to Finn being a permanent staple in my life. Now I was free of him, free to put the focus on myself and my business again. As rapidly as Sugar & Sass was growing, I’d have plenty to keep me busy. Who had time for a boyfriend anyway?

  I’d almost convinced myself that I
was better off without him, until one tear slipped loose. Then it was game over.

  I’m not a cute crier. I’m more of a sloppy-ugly-crocodile-tears crier. Add raccoon-faced crier to that, seeing I hadn’t worn waterproof mascara. When the hiccupping began, I had to pull over at a rest stop and blow my nose.

  “Stupid! Stupid! Man!” I smacked the steering wheel with each word. In fact, I would have choked the steering wheel if I had thought it would make me feel better. I may have even growled a time or two. “Don’t do this to yourself,” I rationalized aloud. But the tears didn’t get the message until much later. In hindsight, it was good I had taken this drive alone. The wee morning hours gave me plenty of time to sort out a few things; although, finally realizing how in love with Finn I was did me no good, since he was about to break up with me.

  I guess if anything, I can say I learned a bit more about myself. Let’s hear it for self-reflection. I filed that thought away for personal growth and reminded myself to pat me on the back later.

  By the time I made it back to Port Haven, I was pretty sure I was dehydrated. My mood had finally lifted about the time I changed the radio station and crossed the Georgia/South Carolina border.

  It was almost 4 A.M. when I pulled into the gravel alley behind my apartment and parked the little Ford Focus next to my cute little pickup truck. I smacked the hood of my truck as a way of greeting and wished that I had driven down to Tampa in the first place. At least I avoided some wear and tear on it.

  I had no luggage to gather from the rental car, since all my stuff was still back at the hotel with Finn, where it could stay as far as I was concerned. I climbed my apartment’s back steps and went straight inside to my bedroom and crawled into bed, not bothering to put on pajamas or wash my face. This was one great benefit to using all-natural makeup—it didn’t clog my pores. I would have no regrets about my skin in the morning, and my sheets would still be clean, not covered in paraben pigments. I would never tell my Beauty Secrets clients, but little by little, I had replaced my stash of Beauty Secrets products with my own creations, and my skin had never looked better.

  It was after 10 A.M. when I opened my eyes again in a panic. My first thought was of Captain Jack, my beloved fluffy white poodle. I had forgotten he was at Inez’s house and not waiting for me to let him out. Inez was Aria’s grandmother-in-law and she loved Captain Jack as much as I did. The little fur ball. He would’ve had a fit if I had slept in that long and didn’t let him out for his morning piddle and bowl full of kibble. I was becoming a big sap because, man, I sure did miss the little guy. All the more reason to get down to business and catch a killer, I thought as I stretched to wake my muscles. I got ready as quickly as my addled brain would allow me to, and focused my energy on tracking down Claire.

  Standing outside, I surveyed my ride options. I preferred my truck over the rental car, but I thought it might make more sense to go incognito for a bit. Claire had no idea what I drove, but since the rental car wasn’t due back until later that afternoon, I figured I might as well take advantage of it.

  My first mistake of the day was getting the mail before heading out. My second mistake was opening the thick ivory envelope. I pulled out the invitation, not even bothering to read the return address, and felt all the air escape my lungs. Justine and Todd were getting married. Justine, as in my former arch enemy, who I had recently made nice with; and Todd, my former fiancé, who cheated on me with the cocktail waitress. Those two, ugh. I took in a shaky breath and reminded myself that I was supposed to be happy for them. But I wasn’t.

  What was this? Justine’s sixth, maybe seventh, marriage? She had never felt compelled to invite me to one of her weddings before, so why start now? If she was a nice person, one could surmise that maybe she had returned my offer of friendship by extending an olive branch, but she wasn’t a nice person. Knowing Justine, she probably took this as an opportunity to gloat about her success at marrying my ex. Although, I had to admit, I was happy she was the one marrying him, and not me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, my nana really saved me on that one. As a matter of fact, I had kept my guardian angel very busy these last few months. I reached up to touch the cross around my neck and sighed.

  I dropped the invitation in my bag, next to a king-sized candy bar, a pair of oversized shades, my water bottle, sunscreen, and a well-worn romance novel. This wasn’t my first stakeout. I knew the afternoon could be long, and the sun was hot. I opened the rental car’s back door to throw in my bag and was shocked at the number of candy wrappers scattered across the backseat. One might be surprised how many of those fun-sized bars can be consumed during a six-hour road trip. I collected the wrappers and balled them into a giant wad of tinfoil, and threw them in the outside trash can. Normally, I probably would have admonished myself for all the calories I had consumed the night before, but what did it matter anymore? I had no one to impress. With that last thought in mind, I hopped in the car and headed over to Sweet Thangs to get my beloved child latte, a venti with extra sprinkles, and maybe even a cinnamon roll. Their cream cheese icing was sweet-tooth heaven. Once I finished my gooey treat, I set out to track down Claire. This girl was going to do some talking.

  7

  God bless millennials and their love of checking in everywhere. Claire’s Instagram account was a treasure trove of information, even if it was a little out of date. Just by scrolling through her feed, I could see her favorite restaurants, beaches, and boutiques. It seemed she took a picture of everything she ate and every time she hit the sand or tried on clothes. I had planned on scouting the residential areas around her favorite check-ins in search of her white convertible. A couple of pictures were taken in someone’s backyard, quite possibly her own, but there wasn’t enough detail for me to make out anything specific. Down here, the houses seemed to blend in with one another. Each homeowner’s association had an approved list of paint colors. All you had to do was pop in at the local hardware store and they’d be able to look up your plantation and let you know the acceptable colors to paint the exterior of your home. While that created a very coherent look, it made it difficult to single out one particular house. Besides that, even if I had found the picture of the house, I would never be able to match it based on color alone. Claire seemed to use filters on all her photos, altering the true color and making the matching process darn near impossible.

  I wasted a little over an hour zig-zagging up and down the various subdivisions, searching for her car. It was completely pointless. Even if Claire was in Port Haven, there was a good chance she parked inside a garage or wasn’t even home. It seemed like a good plan, but it didn’t pan out. For all I knew, Claire had driven someplace out west, or heck, even further south to The Keys. I wouldn’t mind looking for her down there next, seeing how my vacation was a bust.

  And then I had an epiphany: Maybe Claire hadn’t quit using Instagram because she was almost famous. Maybe she preferred a different platform. With that thought in mind, I detoured to my favorite hole-in-the-wall Chinese joint to grab lunch and do a little research. While munching on some fried pot stickers and waiting for my Singapore Noodles to come out, I thought my theory through. Facebook and Instagram were old-school, but Snapchat wasn’t. I quickly downloaded the popular photo-and-video-sharing app that all the cool kids were using (notice I said I had to download it) and then I tried to find her. I didn’t have her phone number (wouldn’t that have been nice), so I couldn’t add her based on my contact list, but I did allow the app to search through my contacts anyway and discovered that I was way behind the times. My dad even had an account, complete with a bitmoji cartoon character that had an uncanny resemblance. How did he even know how to do that? I thought maybe he could give me a hand tracking her down if I came up empty. Next, I tried searching for her by name, but she hadn’t gone with her full name as her username, and it wasn’t the same as her Instagram one either. She also hadn’t posted her “Snapchat code” anywhere for me to scan, but I did find Chris Pratt’s. I sa
ved that one to my camera roll for later.

  My last option was to add friends nearby, but unless I wanted to be friends with Mr. Hang, I was out of luck. Mr. Hang’s daughter, however, was a different story. She brought out my steaming plate of spicy noodles and sat across from me. To say that I was a regular here was an understatement.

  “Okay, you’re driving me crazy here. What’s up?” Lian asked.

  “What do you know about Snapchat?” I was pinching my phone screen, trying to see how the map function worked, but I wasn’t getting very far. I used to think I was tech savvy. Now I felt totally incompetent.

  Lian had her phone out and the app open in a hot second. “Here, swipe down and then click on Add Friends and then on Nearby. I’ll do the same and then I’ll add you.”

  Sure enough, Lian and I were now following one another.

  “How do I find someone?”

  “I usually go through my contacts, or just share my username or code with someone.”

  “Any way to find someone if you don’t have that info?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you stalking?”

  I was in the middle of taking a bite of noodles when she asked and ended up inhaling a shrimp in surprise.

  “Are you okay?” Lian stood up and was ready to give me the Heimlich maneuver, but I finally coughed it up.

  “Sorry,” I said in broken breaths. I cleared my throat.

  “Is Finn up to something shady?”

  “What?! No, he’s not even on the app.” I double-checked by doing a quick search for his Instagram username and stared in shock when a Snapchat account popped up for him.

  Lian’s lips formed an O and she looked away.

  “Okay, that’s beside the point. He’s not who I’m looking for.”

  “Sorry, but that’s pretty much all I can think of.”