by Quinn Avery
"More than likely, he was abandoned a while ago," the vet replied. "I doubt he's had a good meal in over a week."
"Would he adjust well to a missing leg?" Grayson asked.
The elderly man waved a thin, darkly veined hand through the air. "Over time, most dogs that undergo an amputation hardly remember they had an extra leg to begin with. This one appears to be quite young. I imagine he'll acclimate just fine, without any difficulties."
"Go ahead with the amputation," Grayson decided. "If the dog's owners aren't found, I'll take care of the bill."
I threw him a baffled look. "Really?"
"That's mighty kind of you, Detective," the vet said with a pleased smile, shaking Grayson's hand. "I'll have the tech inform you when he's ready to be picked up. If all goes well, it should only be a day or two. If you're not interested in taking him in, well, I suppose the humane society will have to find a foster home." He tipped his chin in my direction before addressing the young woman and her lizard. "I'm afraid it's going to be a while yet, Darlene, but I can assure you Lizzy looks perfectly healthy, and not ready to 'keel over' as you stated."
With a nearly silent chuckle, Grayson turned to me once we were alone. "Let's go see what we can do to find Ginny."
Sitting barefoot and cross-legged on the living room couch, glass of white wine in hand, I scanned over the notes I had scribbled. "This should be everything Finn and Sasha told me." I tossed the notebook over to where Grayson sat on the floor across from me.
Once he was done scanning the list, he lifted a brow in my direction. "Large 'ta-tas'?"
"Those were Sasha's exact words." Mortified, I leaned forward to sip my wine, veiling my burning face with my hair. "They must be...uh...impressive, because it's one of the first things Finn remembered about her too."
"Sounds like they've never been to southern California," Grayson remarked with a deep chuckle. Stretching his long, lean legs over the carpet, he leaned back against the base of the arm chair and wiggled his bare toes as he typed into my laptop. "There are more Ginny Joneses on social media than one would think." He slid his fingers over the mouse pad. "Come over here and look at this."
I padded across the carpet with my wine glass still in hand and lowered at his side, doing my best to pretend I wasn't affected by the sharp scent of his sandalwood cologne. He balanced the laptop on his open palm between us. When he kept scrolling, I balked at the screen. "Either the name Virginia was crazy popular among the Joneses, or there are a lot of women on the lam," I commented. "Can't you just run a quick search at the station for missing women?"
He shot me a scolding glance. "The chief made it clear he doesn't want me spending time on this. That means he wouldn't want me using official resources either."
"I guess," I agreed with heavy reluctance.
"Besides, half of these women will be easy to rule out based on estimated age. If your friends are right, our Ginny would be around twenty-seven by now."
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "Didn't your mother teach you not to judge a woman based on her looks? Besides, sometimes profile pictures are a way for people to brag about their kids, or honor a deceased family member."
"Valid point." He slid the mouse over to the home button, ready to click. "What about you? Whose picture will I find if I click on your account?"
"You just wanna stalk my profile." With a coy smirk, I snatched the laptop away from him. "Go ahead and ask me whatever it is you want to know."
"What's your family situation? Parents? Siblings?"
"Only child, Dad left when I was too young to remember him. My mom's pretty normal, but we're not that close. Boring stuff. I don't have any horrifying secrets."
His eyebrows jetted upward. "Boyfriend?"
"There was one for many years, and he was horrifying. Looking back, I'm relieved he left me for someone else. Marrying him would've been a massive mistake. For starters, I would've been stuck in the Midwest, dodging blizzards every winter." I jabbed the crook of his arm. "Your turn, mister."
"I also have one horrifying ex." He reached for his glass of wine on the canary yellow end table behind him and took a healthy swig. "We were actually married when she left me for someone with a bigger bank account. My last serious ex, the one I thought was the end game, wasn't so horrifying. She was actually the exact opposite. We just wanted different things." Blowing out a long breath, he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm also an only child, but my parents aren't so normal. My mom's a little...intense."
"No kids?" I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.
"None." He sounded relieved.
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. I felt a tug of envy when he mentioned his last ex was the opposite of horrifying. Did that mean he wasn't over her? It was too deep of a conversation for a non-date. "Wow...an ex-wife." I flashed him a wavering smile. "Is it rude to ask a guy his age?"
"I'll be thirty in March."
Six years older, I thought with a firm swallow of wine. Another flicker of irritation followed. It explained why he regarded me as someone's kid sister.
He motioned to my glass. "I'm trying to think of a polite way to ask whether or not I should be concerned that you're drinking."
Irritation simmered in my gut. He was worried I was under twenty-one. "I'm well beyond legal." I wanted to scream into a pillow. "It's these stupid freckles," I grumbled, pointing at my face.
"They're not stupid," he insisted. "They're cute."
There was that word again.
The front door creaked open and slammed shut. "Is this the veterinarian?" Teenie's ancient voice called out. Hardly a moment later, she had scampered into the living room to join us, dousing the room in her peach-scented lotion. I guessed her white t-shirt featuring Elvis Presley and faded denim mini skirt had been purchased many decades prior. The pink flip flops adorned with gemstones, however, were something she had bedazzled herself the week before. Beneath a thick layer of blue eyeshadow, she regarded Grayson with a hard look. "You better not be planning anything sinister with this girl. I still have my Ernie's pistol, and I know how to use it!"
"Teenie!" I scolded.
"I'm actually a police detective with no intention of hurting Zoey." With a silent chuckle, Grayson clambered to his feet. He set his glass of wine down before he stuck out his hand. "Grayson Rivers, ma'am. You must be Zoey's landlord."
Her small, weathered hand disappeared inside of his. She pumped his hand once before her gaze swung over to me. "What happened to the fella that was going to check out that skull you found? And what on earth are you wearing? Are you in some kind of trouble? Did you do something sinister?" Her pink fingernails spread over her chest, and her collection of gold bracelets clattered down her bony elbow. "My lord, they're right. It's never the ones you expect."
"Grayson is here as a friend, Teenie." I rose to my feet beside Grayson, half-tempted to ask him to leave before Teenie said something devastating. "What are you doing home already? I thought you had cards tonight."
"Agatha served up a bad batch of shrimp." Her tone dropped with a scandalous whisper. "Everyone was rushing to use the toilet except me. Guess it's a good thing I don't like cold shrimp." Her tiny hands waved through the air. "Well anyway, I suppose I'll do the polite thing, and give the two of you some privacy." She poked her finger into the center of Grayson's chest. "Now that I know your name, Detective Rivers, you best be on your absolute best behavior. That means if you decide you’d like to be more than friends and get a little freaky tiki with my Zoey, you better use protection."
I gasped, my face in flames. “Teenie!”
Flashing her dentures with a bright smile, Teenie's thin shoulders lifted. "I'm just saying. I was your age once."
Uttering a groan through gritted teeth, I told her, “Good night, Teenie.”
“Buenas noches, amigos,” Teenie returned.
A deep laugh rumbled in Grayson’s chest. “It was nice meeting you.”
Blowing him a kiss, Teenie waltzed ba
ck to the master suite at the other end of the house, humming beneath her breath. Meanwhile, I chugged what was left of my wine and reached for the bottle to pour another glass.
"She seems like a lot of fun," Grayson commented, his voice still thick with humor.
On any other night, I might've agreed. "I need another job so I can afford my own place," I muttered. "I'm so sorry about her."
"Don't be. I'm not." He reclaimed his glass of wine, taking a quick sip. "What was that about someone coming to check out the skull?"
"Molly made up a story about a veterinarian coming to look at an animal skull. We couldn't tell her the truth. You probably noticed Teenie's paranoid about murder the way it is. She worries on a daily basis that either Molly or I will get hacked into pieces. I'd appreciate it if you'd be careful what you say around her." Cradling my wine glass, I sunk back down to grab my laptop and scrolled back to the list of Ginnys. "We better get down to business. This list is longer than the usual line at Dee Dee's."
Grayson set his glass back down on the end table, then sat and draped his arm on the chair cushion behind me. "Before we go any further, I need to tell you something."
The pounding of my nervous heart vibrated against my eardrums. As his eyes held mine, gleaming with seriousness, I blamed Teenie for making a perfectly pleasant night awkward.
"I imagine finding a human skull was pretty traumatic for someone outside of my line of work," his deep voice lulled. "But sometimes murders don't get solved, and missing women aren't found. Other times it just takes a lot longer than you'd imagine. Don't let the search for Ginny, or whoever this person may have been, consume your life. I've watched far less important mysteries go unsolved, destroying good people in the process. I sense you're a good kid with a lot of heart, and I couldn't stand to watch you break." He gently patted the top of my perfectly styled hair like I was a toddler. "If you ever need someone to talk to, whether it be during the middle of a weekday while I'm at work, or in the dead of night, I'm here to listen. Think of me as the big brother you never had."
Big brother. With a flicker of annoyance, I forced a tight smile. "Good to know. Thanks."
Swiping the notebook back off the floor, he set it in his lap. "I say we start our search with Ginny Joneses in big cities that start with a 'D' and go from there." He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows, exposing the start of his yummy sleeve tattoo. "Then we should post something online about the dog to see if anyone's looking for him. Unless we find his owners before he's released, it looks like I'm going to have to learn how to care for a pet post-amputation."
Seven
I didn’t hear from Grayson while I pulled double shifts at the tiki bar over the weekend. I was grateful for the distance as it gave me time to lick my bruised ego and reprogram my mindset. I stayed busy by making a list of the Ginny Jones accounts we had found, charting whatever information they’d made public, and narrowing the list even further. I decided I’d take the high road, and accept Grayson’s friendship and his assistance to find Ginny if that’s all he wanted.
Monday evening, right after I’d returned home from work to start a game of gin rummy with Molly and Teenie, my phone buzzed with a call from Grayson.
“What’s that face about?” Teenie demanded after Zoey glanced down at her screen. “Did someone die?”
Molly’s eyes narrowed. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
“Him who?” Teenie asked. Then the whites of her eyes grew beneath her dark skin. “The sexy detective? Does he want another booty call?”
I shot them each a narrowed look before slipping out the front door into the warm night. I hurried down the stone path among the pygmy palm trees and sat at the curb, afraid my nosy housemates would try to eavesdrop.
“What’s up?” I answered, hoping to sound casual.
“The dog was released this afternoon,” his deep voice rumbled. “I brought him to my place. He’s a little sleepy from the pain meds, but he’s hobbling along pretty well. The vet said he should be fully healed in two or three weeks.”
“You should really give him a name,” I suggested, tucking a loose lock of hair back beneath my head wrap. “It’ll help the two of you bond.”
He let out a deep hum. “I’m open to any ideas.”
Glancing around the dark neighborhood, I tapped my index finger against my phone. The dog was lucky to have survived a stingray attack, and he was even luckier we’d found him before the poison had spread. “How about ‘Lucky’?”
“I think you should stop by and see how he likes it.”
I loved the idea of touring his cottage. He had shared the details of how he’d bought the two bedroom gulf-front property sight unseen with the help of his realtor and Chief Shaw. “It’s after ten. Don’t you have to work in the morning, old man?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you out past your bedtime,” he teased back. “Let me pick you up. I’ll give you a cold drink in exchange for your advice on something, and we can do a little more digging into Ginny Jones. I’ll give you a ride back when you’re ready to call it a night.”
Although I was exhausted, I also wanted to see his place and check in on the dog. I ran inside to change into a lacy top and fashionable shorts, then filled my housemates in before waiting beneath the yard light out front. I wasn’t going to let Grayson come inside to hear more of Teenie’s crazy babbling.
As I sat on the bungalow’s front step, something among the landscaping caught my eye. Teenie had spread crushed shells around the palm trees and bushes, then added a sprinkling of rocks painted gold. All at once, I was reminded of the night I had come across the skull.
It moved when I reached for the card, and something inside the jaw had sparkled in the dim light. Something gold.
“A filling!” I exclaimed.
“Zoey!” Grayson called out. “You alright?”
Blinking heavily, I glanced up to find him waiting in his Bronco at the curb. He had removed the truck’s doors, providing an unobstructed view of his muscular arm slung over the steering wheel, army green t-shirt with the album cover from Soundgarden’s Superunknown stretched over his firm pectorals, tanned feet in leather sandals, black wayfarer sunglasses still perched on his head even though it was dark.
“The skull had a shiny tooth,” I blurted, running toward him. I climbed into the passenger’s side and clicked the seatbelt into place. “I just remembered. It was right in the front. Gold. It could’ve been some kind of filling, right?”
“Possibly,” he agreed while veering into the road. “Those can last several decades. That could be a helpful detail in our search.”
Butterflies broke out in a choreographed dance inside my belly when I studied his masculine profile a little more closely. He could pound nails with that chin. “Hi, by the way.”
He glanced away from the road to throw me a gorgeous smile. “Hi. How was your day?”
“Successful. I made two hundred dollars in tips off just one table that only stayed for an hour. Bachelor parties are always the most lucrative.”
His smile evaporated. “I’d sleep better at night if you’d consider arranging for rides to and from work. I know it isn’t far, but any one of those guys could decide to follow you home after your shift.” He glanced back my way. “Have you put any more thought into getting pepper spray?”
“I kind of forgot about it,” I admitted, wincing.
“I’m getting you some along with a stun gun,” he decided with an irritated grunt. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep them both in your purse at all times.”
“Okay.” It seemed pointless to argue. Besides, there’d been a few times guests had either been too handsy or had shown too much interest, and I had asked one of my coworkers to give me a ride home.
“I’ve been looking for someone to watch the dog while I’m on the clock,” he announced while turning onto Main Street. “At least until he’s healed and getting along better.” He lifted a thick brow in my direction. “
Any ideas?”
I shrugged. “I can watch him when I’m not at Beach Bummers.”
He blinked several times. “Really?”
“I don’t see why not. I work the dinner shift for the rest of the week. But I’d have to do it at your place since Teenie doesn’t want pets in her house.”
“That’d be great.” He nodded, deep in thought, jaw flexing. “I could swing by to get you in the morning and give you a ride to the resort, then back home later.”
I started to protest that I’d rather run, but pinched my lips together, deciding he was in “big brother” mode.
Once we reached the south end of the island, he parked in the narrow driveway of an aquamarine cottage at the end of a short lane. Although it was outdated, the bright pink shutters and white cedar shakes on the gables matched the island’s tropical vibe.
I climbed out of the truck behind him and peeked around the side of the house. The small yard was neatly trimmed up to a small patio in back where a set of pink Adirondack chairs faced the gulf beneath a string of colorful lights.
“If I were you, I’d spend every night on that wicked patio,” I told him. “This place is awesome.”
He started down the stone path, tilting his head toward the cottage. “You might want to withhold judgment until you see inside.” He led me to the front door, unlocking the dead bolt before motioning for me to enter. “Take a deep breath. It was an estate sale, so I bought as is—furniture and all. The previous owner was a hundred and two year-old widow.”
I stepped inside and immediately slapped my hands over my mouth. Everything was painted a bright neon color, from the lime green walls and chartreuse appliances in the small galley kitchen to the pink furniture and obnoxious decor hung above it.
“Oh no,” I whispered among a giggle. “Have you had any adverse reactions to living here yet? Any nausea? Dizziness?”
“Like I said, it was purchased sight unseen.” He playfully nudged me as he stepped inside and threw his keys beside a flamingo sculpture on the fuchsia countertop. “I get overwhelmed whenever I try to decide what to change first.”
