Cast Iron Alibi

by Victoria Hamilton

  “How’d you get to know him?”

  “There’s this gaming app . . . LiveLoveLife, it’s called. Court plays. Terry plays. We all play it on our phones. You enter, and create an avatar and have a screen life and . . .” She shrugged. “You get to do whatever you want.”

  “What does that mean?” Val asked with a frown.

  “You know, you can live a boring life, get married, get a job, have kids, or you can spice it up . . . have threesomes, kink, whatever, you know?”

  “Kind of like real life without the consequences?” Val said dryly. “No broken vows, no hurt feelings? No kids?”

  “Some people don’t understand,” Brandi said, sending her a look of disdain. “Some people don’t want any adventure in their lives, any excitement. But so what? I like it. Life is dull; spice it up. That’s the LiveLoveLife motto. We began talking on the messaging part of the app, and we flirted and had virtual . . .” She stopped, red-faced. “Anyway, he suggested we meet and we made a date for here, the first night.”

  Jaymie frowned. Mario had apparently lost his phone Wednesday night or Thursday; Brandi could potentially help pin down the timing. “Did you message him or something?”

  “No, we had already made a date. I was to meet him down at the dock at midnight.”

  So he could have already lost his phone or . . . Brandi could have stolen it. But what would be the point? “Anyway . . . so you met. And you were disappointed.”

  “Yeah. At first.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “He’s renovating a cottage on the island that’s empty; we went there. It was fun . . . like sneaking out of the house when you were a teenager. We . . . we kinda role-played . . . just a couple of lusty kids sneaking into an empty house. He had made a little love nest, with beer and candles . . . we had a good night.”

  “Though he wasn’t your hard-body dude.”

  Brandi teared up and sniffled. “No, but he was sweet, and needy, and he said he could talk to me. We talked for an hour afterward. He was so unhappy, and grateful. He . . . he told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with.”

  Jaymie sighed. Having heard Mario talk, and knowing what he thought of the women he cheated with, she could have disillusioned Brandi real fast. She frowned. So . . . was Brandi his hot redhead lover that he was thinking of hooking up with on a permanent basis? It didn’t sound like it, since this was their first meeting, according to Brandi. And who knew how many other women he had on the line? She had heard from his own mouth that it was more than one, though with his braggadocio it was hard to know how much was real and how much fantasy. “Did you know he had a pregnant girlfriend?” Jaymie asked.

  Brandi shook her head, but then stopped. “I knew he had a girlfriend. He told me they had an open relationship. She was cool with him finding some fun away from her.”

  “It was only open from his side, apparently,” Val said dryly.

  Brandi blinked and swallowed. “I didn’t know his girlfriend was so young, and pregnant.”

  “You had never met Mario until the first night you were here, on the island?” Jaymie asked, wanting confirmation.

  Something flickered in Brandi’s eyes, but she jutted her chin out and said, “Yeah.”

  Jaymie felt a pit of anger burn in her stomach. “So . . . you didn’t make up the campsite being canceled so you could suggest we use my cottage and meet your guy friend here?”

  Brandi’s eyes widened. “Uh, no, I mean, it’s not exactly . . .” She sputtered and fell silent. Her eyes, though . . . in her eyes was calculation. “No, I didn’t,” she said, but her gaze slid away.

  Lying or telling the truth? Once Brandi committed to a lie, shaking her from it was impossible, so if she was lying, she’d never admit it now. “Okay, I get it.” Jaymie said, standing. “Val, do you want to go for a walk with me and Hoppy?” At the word walk, the little dog perked up and yipped once.

  “Sure. Let’s go,” Val said, jumping to her feet.

  Jaymie turned back to her friend. “One question, Brandi . . . how did Terry know you had been with a guy here? He accused you when we were in Grand Bend; how did he know?”

  Her expression clouded and she shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s been stalking me lately. He had a tracking app on my phone. I thought I got rid of it, but . . .” She shrugged. “I blocked him online, but I suppose he could have friended me as someone else.”

  “But still . . . how would he know you’d been with a guy? You didn’t post that on social media, did you?”

  “No, of course not . . . not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I may have hinted. In broad terms. You know . . . in emojis . . . eggplant peach.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Jaymie said. Though she could guess, but she didn’t want to go there.

  “Is it possible he followed us back here, do you think, to Heartbreak Island?” Val asked.

  “Maybe.” Brandi looked alarmed. “You don’t think he . . . but he wouldn’t.” She shook her head. “No, he must have gone back home to look after the kids.” She clutched her phone and swallowed hard.

  Interesting, Jaymie thought, that she would go there, that she would conjecture that Terry could do such a thing. “He followed us all the way to Grand Bend. Who did he have watching your kids then?”

  “We have friends, ones who babysit,” she said, her tone defensive. “And his mom is cool . . . she likes having all the kids with her. I’m a good mom, you know, not some delinquent.”

  “I know you are,” she said. And she did. Brandi’s kids were important to her, Jaymie knew it, but her life was full tilt; Brandi liked drama, and being a mom didn’t offer much drama. She clearly needed an outlet. Too bad she hadn’t taken up poker. Or bingo. Or competitive roller derby. But . . . what she said was alarming. Terry could be on the island right now and he could be responsible for Mario’s death. Her skin crawled and she glanced around. His could have been the footsteps she had heard in the night. “You’ve got to tell the police,” she said, looking down at her friend. “About being with Mario, and Terry following you.”

  Brandi, looking stubborn, shook her head. “No, I can’t do that. Terry’s got nothing to do with this, I swear.”

  “Please, Brandi . . . they’ll find out you were with Mario. Someone will know something, and if you don’t come forward voluntarily, it’ll look weird. Tell them the truth, tell them it was just once, and you didn’t know the guy’s name until you connected the dots.” Jaymie would be sure to tell the police all she had heard, Mario’s bragging about all the multiple women he was stringing along. Val had likely already told them, but she would reiterate. They had to know there were likely many more women and their partners who could be angry with Mario.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “No, do it! Or I will, I swear.”

  “All right, I’ll tell them. Later.” She fingered her phone, turning it in her hand.

  Sure; she’d talk to the police. After she called Terry, Jaymie thought, to see where he was. She took in a deep breath. That wasn’t up to her. “You do what you need to do.” And I’ll do what I need to do, Jaymie thought.

  Eleven

  Jaymie and Val went for their walk with Hoppy. “I don’t know what to think,” Jaymie said as they walked. “Knowing Brandi slept with Mario the first night we were here . . .” She shook her head, at a loss for words. “She couldn’t wait to meet up with him,” she complained, knowing she sounded bitter. “I rolled with it when she brought Courtney, but now it looks like this whole vacation was about her hooking up with a guy she claims she’d never met before.”

  “Who is now dead.”

  Jaymie took in a sharp breath, then let it out slowly. “I know I’m focusing on the wrong things.”

  “I’m not criticizing,” Val said as they paused to let Hoppy sniff a clump of grass. They had walked away from the cottage and up to the farthest south end of th
e island, where the land had risen above river level and overlooked the waterway toward Lake St. Clair, not visible from where they were except as a widening of the river toward it. They were circling around on their way to visit the tart shop. “I get why you’re upset; you feel like it’s a betrayal of the purpose of the vacation, which was for you and your friends to reconnect, to bond like you did when you were younger.”

  “I can always trust you to get it.”

  “But—”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “You’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that you all have changed some, that you have different priorities, different needs. You’re not twenty now. The Brandi you knew has evolved. She’s a mystery to you probably, this new Brandi, but you’re still thinking of her as she was at twenty.”

  Jaymie nodded and climbed the bluff to a stone point that overlooked the river. A breeze wafted her bangs away from her forehead, and the hot morning sun beat down on her. She turned back to Val and shaded her eyes. “I’m worried. Beyond my own feelings, my hurt that I think she arranged this whole thing so she could hook up, what if the cops want to check all our phones? I’ve heard that even if you delete phone messages, a forensic analyst can retrieve them. They could find out she was texting Mario, right?”

  “You’ll have to cross that bridge when you burn it down, as my mom used to say.” Val smiled.

  “I keep thinking I should be telling Vestry about Brandi and Mario. I mean . . . isn’t that information they should have? Maybe he said something to her, or . . . or . . .” She shrugged.

  “I can’t answer that question for you, Jaymie. I can’t give you advice,” Val said, her expression sympathetic. “This is between you and your conscience.”

  Nodding, Jaymie turned away from the spectacular view. “I’m working on it. Right now, I want to give Brandi a chance to tell the detective herself.”

  Val nodded. “I think that’s wise.”

  Jaymie linked arms with her friend and they walked on, with Hoppy tugging at the leash. “I’m lucky I have you here.”

  The day was humid, with the kind of dampness that stayed in the linens and beaded on the forehead. They stopped in to check on Rachel at Tansy’s Tarts. She was happily wearing a white apron and selling ice cream to families.

  After a happy vacationing family exited, licking their cones, Rachel turned to her friend. “You have to try this!” she said, her dark face radiant, her cheeks glowing. “Both of you! I’m going to sell you the best dessert in the world.” She got out two cardboard cups, plopped a butter tart in each, and dished out one scoop of chunky, creamy ice cream. “Look at those chunks,” Rachel said, pointing her scoop at some crusty tan and caramel bits. “This is Tansy’s new ice cream, Butter Tart Blast, made with real Tansy butter tarts! On top of a Tansy butter tart it is a menace to the waistline, girls, but mmmm, sooo good! Look . . . we’ve gone environmental, and you get a real old-fashioned wooden paddle to eat it with! It’s like a vintage disposable spoon!”

  Val grinned. Jaymie laughed and said, “Rach, you have literally never looked so happy in your life!”

  “I know,” she said with an enthusiastic hop and nod, her springy curls bobbing like little blue-tipped waves. “I’ve found my bliss.” She put the scoop back in the ice cream and closed the cooler with a slam. “I’m quitting my job and moving here to work. Tansy offered me a job until October—she’s going to train me in pastry making—and then when things slow down for winter I’m going to find more work at a restaurant or bar. I love this island!”

  Jaymie, stunned, stared across the counter at her friend. “You’re . . . omigawd, Rach, are you sure? You’re, like, a six-figure project manager. This is, like, minimum wage!” She was so stunned she had descended to her teenage gibberish of like every second word.

  “I’m sure.”

  “But are you sure sure?”

  “I’m sure sure. I could live for five years on my savings. I’ll cash in my retirement fund if I need to. I hate my job, I hate my apartment. I want to live somewhere I like. Don’t you want me close to you?” she said, clasping her fingers together and putting her fists under her chin, with a winsome smile.

  “Are you kidding?” Jaymie hopped in excitement. “You bet I’d love you closer! Omigawd, Rachel, it’ll be, like, the best!”

  “You got it, bella!” Rachel came out from behind the counter and the friends hugged.

  “I’ve got to go,” Jaymie said finally. “We’ve got Hoppy, and I don’t want to leave him tied up outside for any longer. I’ll see you later.”

  Jaymie and Val ate their melting treats as they walked on, away from the tart shop. They briefly talked over Rachel’s news, but then were both silent, eating the butter tart ice cream on the butter tart. It was so sweet Jaymie’s teeth hurt, but it was delicious. She paused, finally, and crouched down to give Hoppy the last scraps, enough to give him a taste. She then gave him some water in the portable doggie dish she carried; it attached to a water bottle and flipped down, filling when one turned it over.

  “I like your friend,” Val said as they watched Hoppy lap up the water.

  “Rach?” Val nodded. “She’s the best. She and Mel kept me sane in college.”

  “And Brandi and Gabriela?”

  “They were the reason I was insane at times.”

  “Melody is an odd friend for you, though; she’s . . . insular.”

  “Maybe you don’t remember how introverted I was when I was a teenager. I suppose she takes a bit of getting used to, getting to know. And she’s withdrawn more. She’s not herself right now.” Jaymie brooded for a long moment as she flipped the doggie bottle closed and tucked it back in her small knapsack, shifting it back to her shoulder. “We bonded over books, and that never stopped. She was a history and lit major. I was the one who introduced her to Grandma Leighton’s collection of Regency romances. She wrote three books before we finished school; it came naturally to her. Her grades would have been better if she focused more on school projects, but she had a purpose. She’d read me bits and pieces, and I’d give her critiques. She’s never looked back. It was slow going at first, but she stayed with it.”

  Val nodded. “I get it now. You’re her muse, in a way.”

  “Maybe. I like that idea!” Jaymie’s smile fell. “But she’s not happy right now. And she’s writing different stuff. No gentle dukes or nervous viscounts for a while now. It’s all cynical beauties, dastardly cads and now crime thrillers.”

  “You have to let her write what she needs to write.”

  “I guess. I hate to see her unhappy. Andrew is not good for her. She thinks she saw him in Grand Bend, and she’s been looking around ever since like she’s afraid she’s being followed. I’m worried.”

  They walked on, with Hoppy stopping to sniff at every clump of grass and sapling, and disposed of their cardboard bowls in a public waste bin. They then circled along the dirt road close to the end of the island, near the restaurant. There was the cottage that had burned out, what remained of the A-frame stark against the hazy sky, blackened splinters jutting up, and littered glass and wads of insulation bats strewn about at the base. It smelled acrid, and the charred wood and broken glass all around was a terrible reminder of what had happened that morning. A uniformed officer stood guard inside the police tape.

  Another couple stood staring at it. Jaymie recognized them and waved. Val knew them too, and they joined Fran and Dan, seniors who had settled on Heartbreak Island a few years before, after living in Wolverhampton for years.

  “What a shame!” Fran said, leaning on her cane and staring at the burned-out wreckage. “We looked at this place for our daughter and son-in-law, but it was such a wreck. We were glad someone bought it intending to fix it up. That poor guy had barely started.”

  Dan, a lean octogenarian with a sunspotted bald dome under a safari hat, was more pragmatic. “If Mario had spent more time working and less time bragging and drinking, he would have gotten somewhere.”

 
“You knew him?” Val asked as Fran bent down and rubbed Hoppy’s ears.

  “Yep,” he grunted. “We hired him to do a couple of things at the cottage. Can’t say I thought much of his work, or his work habits. Always on that damned phone. I expect that from young people, but he was too old to be fiddling with his phone like a teenager.”

  Jaymie and Val exchanged a look. They knew what he was doing on that phone—making dates to hook up. “I heard he was working on some cottage where the owners aren’t around right now,” Val said.

  “Yep. Don’t know how much work he was getting done,” he said with the loud voice of the partially deaf. “I heard he was using it as his personal love nest, different girl alla time, in fact, there were two girls at once, I heard—”

  “Dan,” his wife said, touching his arm. She shook her head.

  “What? Mario’s dead. No reason to protect him now, not that I would. The guy was a cheating lowlife.”

  There was a faint sound from behind them, and they all turned to see Hallie there, clutching her distended belly, supported by a woman Jaymie recognized from that morning as her frantic mother. The woman gave him a venomous look, and Dan had the grace to look ashamed.

  “Hey, now, I didn’t mean—”

  “Enough damage done, Dan,” Fran muttered. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said to Hallie. “He didn’t mean anything by it. We’re truly sorry for your loss.” She led her husband, who was still grumbling apologies, away.

  Her lip trembling, Hallie stomped away to speak with the young police officer who was standing guard.

  “Is Hallie okay?” Val said to her mother, who stood, arms folded over her chest, glaring off into the distance. “This has to be awfully hard on her, young and pregnant.”

  The woman pursed her lips and ambled closer, watching Hallie intently as the young woman argued with the police officer. Hoppy danced over to her, and she crouched, petting the little dog, her expression softening as she did so. “She’s taking it harder than I would have thought, given what Mario was like. That man . . . the one who spoke . . . he wasn’t wrong. I tried to get her to leave Mario, to come home, but . . .” She shrugged.