by Maria Quick
Ronnie shuffled over, looking depressed.
‘What do they think?’ I asked him.
‘His skull’s been completely annihilated,’ said a girl next to me. I tried not to jump.
‘No kidding?’
‘Seriously. This happens all the time. Drug deal gone wrong. I bet he tried to con his clients so they bumped him off and tossed the body.’
‘You tell that ugly cow that I have never dealt drugs in my life!’ Ronnie spluttered, jabbing a finger in her face. She didn’t bat an eye, of course, but I got annoyed at his temperament. Did he want information or not?
‘You seem pretty pissed,’ she noted. ‘You know him or something?’
‘Oh! Tell her I’m your father!’
‘He’s my father,’ I obliged, before immediately thinking up a ton of reasons why that was a stupid idea.
‘Man, that sucks,’ she said blandly. Slowly, I turned to look at her. Track marks on her arms, makeup smeared on her face, and blank, unstaring eyes. Alrighty then. At least I wouldn’t have to feign sadness.
‘Yeah. It blows,’ I agreed, casually glaring at Ronnie. He was looking at a couple of detectives nearby, so my glare went unnoticed. I hated that.
‘So, was it drugs?’ she asked, hope lighting up her face.
‘No. He never touched the stuff. Sorry,’ I felt the need to say.
‘It’s okay. I get my own,’ she sniffed, dignified.
Modern-day feminism at its finest.
‘Who killed him? Was it you?’
Yeah, sure. Like I’d kill my dad and randomly admit it to a complete out-of-it stranger. Wait, that’s ingenious. Maybe she’s actually an undercover cop.
‘No, but I really, really wish it was.’
Ronnie made a rude gesture toward me, which was disgusting behavior for a father to do. He ought to be ashamed of himself.
‘I think it was his wife,’ I continued.
‘Not your mom?’ she deduced. We watched the forensic team cart the body off in a stretcher. Multiple photos were taken, of course.
‘Not my mom. I was, um, illegitimate. She doesn’t know about me.’
‘What bloody century are you from?’ Ronnie asked, perplexed. I ignored him.
‘So, why’d she do him in?’
‘He was an ass,’ I told her straight away. Did not need to think about that answer. She laughed. Despite her flaws, she seemed okay. Honest. Not like the other girls I’d met, that’s for sure.
‘I’m Stacy, by the way.’
Ooh, just when I thought we could be friends.
‘Brianna,’ I told her dejectedly. She didn’t notice my pain.
We watched the rest of the show in silence, Ronnie still staring at the cops. I waited until Stacy vaguely drifted off, away from the cops and probably in search of something highly illegal.
‘What’s up?’ I asked him quietly.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ he hazarded. Alarm bells started to ring. When somebody said that, it was most certainly something. When a Brit said that, it was definitely the end of the world.
‘What?’ I asked sharply.
He glanced over at the detectives, worried. I followed his gaze but could see nothing untoward.
‘I probably should’ve mentioned it sooner, but that’s my wife.’
His unemployed, English wife was an American police detective. Solving his murder that she committed. Okay, that made no sense. Either she was the best actress in the world or he was suffering a belated hemorrhage.
‘Huh?’
He stuck his head in mine and sighed. It was something I would not like to repeat.
‘Stand here,’ he instructed, pointing at himself. I moved a little in front of him.
Now, it became clear. There was a stony-faced woman standing behind the cops, arms folded whilst clinically assessing the scene. And she was staring straight at me.
My first time seeing her, I tried to examine her objectively. Black hair tied up in a neat bun, tropical cocktail dress, and a murderous glint in her eye. Yup, I could see her doing it. And I could see her having no trouble adding me to the list.
‘Why didn’t you mention that?’
‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’
What a gentleman.
‘Right. Would you say she was in earshot the whole time?’ I asked softly, forcing myself to break contact from her hard eyes.
‘Oh, yeah. Her face completely changed when you told that girl I was your dad.’
‘Wonderful. And who’s that?’ I asked, as a bald, muscled, tattooed guy came and put his arm around her. She whispered something to him and pointed at me. He glared, too. Yay.
‘That’s the fancy man I was telling you about.’
‘Nope,’ I disagreed. ‘I’m pretty sure you said he was a waiter.’
‘How do you know he’s not?’
True, valid point. If he was a waiter, it was not at a restaurant I would like to visit at any time. Angela and the “waiter” took one last look at me, drinking me in, before walking away. I suspected that wouldn’t be the last time I’d see them.
‘Why did you ask me to pretend I was your daughter, by the by?’
He shrugged.
‘A laugh?’
Oh, of course. I nodded along, obviously a part of this hilarious joke I called my life.
‘Wow. They always said it was true, but we never believed them,’ I sighed, feeling fine and dandy.
‘What’s that?’
I practically skipped back to George, enjoying an exquisite ending to a stunner of a day.
‘We really don’t get British humor.’
11
I woke up to a hell of a migraine the next day, but I did manage to sleep for almost eight hours, so I couldn’t win everything. I went to the mini fridge, briefly pondered my choices of alcohol or water, and chose the latter sadly. I was surprised they hadn’t taken it out of my room. They were going to get an amazing tip.
After I’d ordered breakfast, I reflected on our progress so far. Ronnie’s body had been found, which was one box ticked already. His murderous wife knew I was sniffing around, and so did her beefcake boyfriend, which was not so good news. And thanks to my little white lie, she probably suspected that I was after the money. Yeah, I hadn’t done a great job so far. This whole detective thing? Not my scene.
I could see this going horribly wrong already. Even worse than it already had, I mean.
I enjoyed my food, relishing the alone time before I met up with George and Ronnie. They’d said they would follow the police and Angela, but there was an all-night strip club a couple blocks away, so it was anyone’s guess if they’d done the right job, or... another one.
I checked my cell, looking for any messages from Ally. There weren’t any from her. Probably got distracted about her chi or whatever. There was one from my dad, asking how Yasmin was. I’d almost forgotten about that. I told him we were both fine and we were doing a whole day of shopping. I could always panic-buy some clothes if he asked.
Which I was certain he wouldn’t.
George and Ronnie phased through my door at 1pm, right on time. I thought it better to meet in my room than pretend to speak on my cell outside. It was hard to keep that up for a long time, and sometimes I forgot. That’s when the strange looks usually started.
If they ever stopped.
I greeted them with a smile, and they looked back at me with a mixture of happiness and disgusted disappointment. I guess I know where they went.
‘Fun night?’ I asked.
Ronnie shrugged, obviously a little more used to it than George.
‘I did tell him, but he didn’t listen.’
George was too depressed to reply.
‘Great,’ I sighed. ‘Since you didn’t do anything useful last night, did you have time to think of a plan?’
‘Yes, actually, we did. We think it may be time for you to introduce yourself to Angela.’
I cleaned my ears out to check I was hearing him right.
‘Would you care to repeat that?’ I asked, on the off chance.
‘You should introduce yourself to Gelly.’
Okay, Ronnie was being totally serious here. I could see a couple of flaws in this plan; mainly a fatal one, on my part.
‘And I should do that, why?’
He wandered over to the window and craned his head through, shrugging as he did.
‘Well, she knows you exist now. If you didn’t approach her, it’d look suspicious.’
‘It already looks suspicious,’ I groaned. ‘She knows I suspect her, and she thinks I’m your daughter.’
‘Why does she think that?’ George piped up, frowning in the corner.
‘Because she overheard me saying it to some junkie.’
His frown deepened.
‘Why? What would possess you to say that?’
‘I told her to say it for a laugh,’ Ronnie snickered, his head firmly back in the hotel room.
‘Okay, but surely she has a mind of her own. You’re not very good at anything, are you?’ he asked me.
My immediate reaction was indignation, but I could not in any way deny it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Money has solved a lot of my issues.
Except this time, it was part of the problem.
‘Did you leave a will?’ I asked, a thought suddenly occurring to me.
‘I made one before I got married. I was only twenty-four. I’d lost my father to cancer, and my mother from a stroke a few months later. I was an only child, and feeling very... what’s the word? Morbid, maybe? That’s about the time I got into the stock market, too. They’d left me with nothing but debt and a horrible mortgage, and I vowed then to not let my kids go through the same thing. If I ever had any, that was.’
Touching story. No, really. I only wished there was a violinist in the corner to give us the proper ambience.
He’d basically confirmed my suspicions and fears, but I thought I might as well get it down in writing anyway.
‘And who does your money go to?’
‘My nonexistent children. I was going to change it after we married, but I never got around to it. Besides, we never had kids, so it would only ever go to her- Oh, I see,’ he groaned, it finally dawning on him.
‘So, your wife now thinks you have a kid. She’ll be under suspicion from the cops and your effects, in her mind, will go to Bree, here. Man, this has been a horrible idea from start to finish,’ George frowned.
‘Tell me about it. This is why I don’t help you guys, anymore.’
I was in actual danger here, and I was completely on my own. My dad had no idea I was solving a lucy’s case, and if he did, he’d pull me out so fast I wouldn’t blink. I’d been so close to getting arrested last time that my dad had begged the chief not to. He’d had a hullabaloo with lawyers and the chief’s chief, and some money was exchanged. Not bribery, I was assured. I don’t know exactly what went on but I do know that our police station will now have the best technology in the country. The low point was that I could no longer help lucies. In any way. My dad said if I tried it again, I’d be on my own.
Well, that’s what he says. But I’m his daughter, and he has to have some leeway on that.
Whilst I was already thinking up excuses, Ronnie had been thinking of his own.
‘It’s really not as bad as you’re making out. I haven’t been reported missing, I’d already lost my passport, and I’ve never had any distinguishing surgeries. The only real people who know about this is you, Angela and the waiter.’
‘So, even the cops can’t help me,’ I groaned, feeling even worse.
‘I’d jump in front of a bullet for you,’ George shrugged. ‘Might be an interesting experience.’
‘Great, thanks. Not helping. I take it you haven’t had any more thoughts about the briefcase?’ I asked Ronnie. He was pacing up and down, thinking furiously.
‘Nope.’
‘Of course not. That would be useful.’
I drummed my fingers on the nightstand, waiting for either of them to say something. Anything. Instead, George looked expectantly at me and Ronnie began to whistle. Sighing, I grabbed the car keys and accepted my fate.
‘Alright, let’s go meet Angela.’
They cheered at the thought of doing something vaguely perilous. I was sooo gonna die.
Ronnie gave me clear instructions to the hotel he’d seen Angela at. It was damned nicer than mine. On the off-chance my fake-mom and I hit it off, I was definitely switching.
It wasn’t strictly a hotel. The lobby was in a separate building, and the rooms appeared to be cabins. Actual log cabins, right on the shoreline. They looked huge; bigger than some houses I’d seen. Poor George already looked irritated.
I picked up my tourist disguise of a map, sunglasses and confused expression, and headed into the minimalistic lobby. A very smiley female welcomed me into the room.
‘How can I help?’
‘This might be an odd request,’ I started. Her tanned, pretty face predictably fell.
‘We’ll try our best to accommodate you. Are you a resident here?’
‘No, but I think my stepmom is. It’s a long story,’ I laughed falsely. She joined in. ‘Could you perhaps put a call through to her room?’
She dithered, hand hovering over the landline.
‘Please? I know she’ll want to talk to me.’
She looked up sharply at the thinly-veiled threat but nodded anyway. Probably hoping for a fight so she’ll have something to gossip about.
‘Of course. What’s her name?’
‘Angela...’
‘Higgins. I told you this,’ Ronnie muttered.
‘Higgins. Angela Higgins.’
She gracefully decided not to notice my pause and put the call through.
‘Miss Higgins?’ she asked. I heard an intake of breath from both my ghostly companions. I managed to somehow keep a straight face. ‘I’m sorry to bother you. We have a young lady here who- I’m sorry, what was your name?’
‘Brianna,’ I replied instantly, wishing I’d thought of a fake name.
‘-says that you’re her stepmom. Her name is Brianna,’ she said, biting back a sigh.
She listened some, and then a little more. Just when I thought she hadn’t even called at all, she put the phone down and smiled.
‘Your stepmother’s excited to see you. Her cabin is a short walk along the boardwalk, number four.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Have a nice day,’ she called after me.
I let the door swing shut behind me before we all let out a deep sigh of horror.
‘Thirty years of my life, gone in an instant. My boss will accept Angela’s story. I don’t really have anyone I’d call a friend. And now Angela’s wiped me off the face of the Earth by calling herself Miss. If it wasn’t for you, nobody would have a single clue I’d lived or died,’ Ronnie whispered.
I thought he was being a little dramatic. Even if that was all true, he still had bills and neighbors. Somebody would notice he was gone.
Eventually.
‘Don’t get too excited,’ I warned him. ‘I haven’t done anything yet. Well, nothing short of insane and crazy anyway.’
‘You should hint that you know where the money is,’ he suggested. ‘That way she has a reason to keep you alive.’
‘I’m not taking any more advice from you,’ I told him shortly. ‘Though, that is sort of good. Maybe I will do that. Thanks.’
He accepted my begrudging gratitude with a nod. As we passed the third cabin, I hushed my tone and tried out ventriloquist mode. I wasn’t great at it, but it was easier to hide.
‘I am going to have an advantage that she does not know about. That’s you two,’ I explained, as they appeared baffled. I stopped outside the cabin and turned to them. ‘I want you both to check out the whole building. And perimeter, actually. You see anything suspicious, or anyone hiding or something, let me know. Especially keep an eye out for that burly dude.’
>
‘There’s a burly dude?’ George gulped.
‘Oh, yeah. Ronnie’s full of surprises. We forgot to tell you, but it’s her boyfriend. He’s bald and muscly-’
‘Wearing a black vest, cargo shorts and has multiple tattoos?’ George finished.
I blinked.
‘He’s behind me, isn’t he?’ I whispered.
‘Yup. Angela too. Hey, good luck.’
I turned around to face them. Their glares from the other night looked oddly scarier in the daylight.
‘I’m gonna need it,’ I sighed.
12
After acknowledging my presence, Angela and “the waiter” walked back into their room, leaving me no choice but to follow them in. Ronnie and George did as I asked, immediately vanishing through the walls. It was a pretty nice place. Flawless, actually. It smelt clean and fresh; and not of bleach as I’d weirdly thought it would. The wicker furniture was comfortable, as I discovered when she curtly nodded at a chair for me. She sat facing me, while he leaned on the doorframe leading to the bathroom, by the looks of things. She did not offer drinks, and neither did he. Okay, better get this over with.
‘My name’s Brianna Mendes,’ I announced. They did not seem impressed.
I waited for a pointer or two on their part, but they seemed content to glare at me until I spoke. There was an extremely long pause as I fixed the cover story in my head. It was something I really should’ve done on the drive over.
‘I believe you’re married to my father?’ I prodded, glancing at Angela.
‘Mmhmm,’ she murmured, expression stonier than Mount Rushmore.
‘Right...’ I sighed. Here goes. ‘I had a happy life growing up. My mom never married, and she never told me who my dad was. All she said was that she’d met him in England and it was a brief fling, and she never heard from him again. I’m sorry, that must be really hard for you to hear.’
‘Hmm?’ she blinked blearily. ‘Oh yes, of course. Dreadfully hard. Do go on.’
Her accent was way more refined than Ronnie’s. It sounded as though she was putting it on. I guess Ronnie thought it was unnatural too, if his expression was anything to go by when he came into the room. Gazing doubtfully at the unnamed man, Ronnie stood next to him, inadvertently mirroring. They made an odd couple.