by Quinn Avery
I couldn’t believe my good fortune. All at once, it felt as if I had discovered my dream job. “Yessir!”
The station’s phone rang. I didn’t hesitate to answer. “Santa Maria Island Police Department, this is Zoey. How can I help you?”
“As in Zoey, the redhead from the tiki bar?” a familiar voice asked.
“As in Zoey, the redhead from the tiki bar, moonlighting as a temporary administrator with the police department,” I clarified. “Whom am I speaking with?”
“It’s George Jones—Ginny’s brother.”
My eyes widened. “George, hi! You just happen to be on my list of calls to make. Do you know the name of that private investigator Ginger hired after Ginny’s grandfather passed?”
“It was Travis something-or-other. I think he worked at Parker Investigations out of Destin. Why?”
I found a piece of scratch paper on the desk, and scribbled the information with a pen. “We have some questions for him regarding our search for Ginny.”
“Does it have something to do with the human remains the police discovered last night? Do they think it’s her?”
Word traveled fast, I thought. A part of me felt sorry for George and his older sister, knowing it could be a long process before anyone could confirm whether or not Ginny was still alive.
Unsure of the confidentiality rules with my new employer, I told him, “Can you please hold for a minute, George?”
Before he answered, I found the hold button and met the Chief’s curious icy blues. “It’s George Jones, Ginny’s brother. He’s inquiring about the body you found last night.”
The chief’s thick fingers swiped over his forehead. “Goddamn social media. The news was already all over the internet before I got out of bed this morning.” Grunting, he turned away from me. “I’ll take the call in my office.”
I made myself comfortable behind the large laminate desk, taking a quick inventory of its drawers’ orderly contents, and adjusting the height on the mesh high-back chair. I fired up the desktop computer, sniffing the flowers and taking a bite of a donut while waiting for it to load. I bypassed Avery’s password by logging in as a guest, and navigated to a new tab on the internet browser. I quickly found a number for the investigator’s office in Destin, and dialed it on another one of the station’s phone lines.
“Parker Investigations,” a woman drawled after only one ring. “Betty speaking.”
“Hello, Betty.” I gulped down the bite I had just taken. “This is Zoey with the Santa Maria Island Police Department. Is Travis in?”
A weighted sigh followed. “Sugar, I’m afraid Mr. Parker has passed.”
I blanched. “As in died?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The woman’s voice lowered to a whisper. “The police think it was an accident, but Travis wasn’t keen on sweets, and he certainly wouldn’t have bought anything containing nuts. He was hyper-aware of his severe peanut allergy, god rest his soul. Wouldn’t touch a single baked good anyone brought into the office. Wanna know what I think? Someone slipped him something with peanut dust because he got too close to their dirty secrets. Someone wanted him dead.”
“I don’t know what to say.” My throat dried. “I’m…sorry for your loss.”
“He was a good man,” Betty said, her tone far away. She paused, then said, “Anyway, what can I do you for, sugar? Would you like to speak with one of our other investigators?”
“I was hoping someone could answer a few questions I have regarding Ginny Jones and her grandfather, Anton Wells.”
“Oh, darlin’,” Betty replied among a sharp intake of breath. Again, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please don’t repeat this to anyone—it could cost me my job—but the day Travis died, he left for Anton Wells’s estate to investigate a lead on Ginny. If you ask me, that’s what got our beloved Travis killed.”
Sixteen
“And you’re certain she thought his death was related to Ginny’s case?” Grayson asked once I had called to fill him in on the details of my conversation with the investigator’s receptionist.
“Positive.” Even though he couldn’t see me, I nodded. “This could be big, Grayson. I can feel it in my bones.”
Grayson heaved a deep sigh. “Is the chief in? I’ll put in a request for us to head up to Destin as soon as I’m finished here. He has an old pilot buddy with a private jet that owes him a few favors—it’ll cut down on travel time.”
“Us, as in you and the chief?”
“As in me and you. If he approves the trip, you’ll want to head home and pack an overnight bag.”
Lightness passed through my chest. Grayson wanted me to travel with him in a private jet to investigate a case. I wasn’t sure which part of that idea was most exciting. I checked the phone’s switchboard, finding my call occupied the only active line. “He’s in his office. I’ll patch you through to him just as soon as I figure out how to operate this massive system.”
“Your instincts for this kind of thing seem to be spot on, Zoey,” Grayson said. “You’re already proving you belong on our team.”
I pumped a fist into the air and opened my mouth to release a silent shout of triumph, deciding maybe fate had brought me to the island so I could discover my true calling in life. “Thanks, Grayson. That means a lot coming from you.” As I reached down to put him on hold, my eyes caught on the flowers. “Oh! And thank you for the flowers and donuts. That was really sweet of you. Molly’s right—you’re extremely thoughtful.”
“Don’t you mean I’m perfect?” he teased.
Warmth spread through my cheeks. “Don’t push it, old man. I’m reserving judgment until after you take me on that date.”
“About that…” his voice faded with uncertainty.
I winced with the sudden clench of my stomach. Had he already changed his mind, or had it only been a false offer from the start? “Grayson—”
The chief was suddenly towering above me. “That’s Rivers? Tell him I’d like to have a word.”
My shoulders dropped. “Chief Shaw just came out of his office and said he wants to speak with you,” I told Grayson in a formal tone. “Hold on.” I hit the HOLD button and tipped my chin at the chief. “He’s all yours.”
Hiding my budding feelings from my new boss while working alongside Grayson was going to be a challenge.
“Are they giving you a badge?” Teenie asked, watching with rounded eyes as I feverishly packed a bag. “Or a gun?”
“It’s not like that.” I rejected another dress, discarding it into the growing pile on her floor. “I’m only going as Detective Rivers’s…assistant.”
“I’d be more than happy to assist that delicious man in whatever he needs.” Teenie wiggled her drawn-in eyebrows with a cartoonish purr.
“Your little crush on him is becoming a little disconcerting, Teenie. Do me a favor and tone it down—especially if he comes inside to get me. No weird innuendoes about me and him hooking up, either. He’s one of my bosses now.”
Teenie hummed with a smile. “Even better. Secret office affairs add the perfect amount of spice to a relationship. It’s exciting knowing at any moment the office door might open, and someone could catch you down on your—”
“Enough!” I squeezed my eyelids shut and shook my head. “I’m seriously starting to think I need to send you and Molly to rehab for your soap opera addictions!” At least Teenie had moved beyond her fear of Grayson being a murderer.
When the doorbell rang, I retrieved the last dress I’d discarded on the floor, and shoved it into my duffel bag with the rest of my things. I zipped the bag and slung it over my shoulder before shooting my landlord a narrowed look. “Please promise me you’ll behave. I can’t go on this trip with him if you’re going to make things awkward.”
Folding her waif arms over her stomach, Teenie’s lips puckered with a pout. “Would you like me to hide in a closet?”
“The way you embarrassed me in front of him last time? That wouldn’t be the worst idea you’ve had.”
Laughing, I dropped a kiss inside her cloud of white hair. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone. Maybe you can check in on Smith later to make sure he hasn’t passed out and lost Lucky.”
There was a skip in my step as I headed for the front door. Part of me wanted to launch myself into Grayson’s arms when the door swung open. Only it wasn’t Grayson.
Glori Finkle threw me a frazzled smile that matched the crumpled state of her pantsuit and frizzy hair. Unlike the first time we had met, Glori’s ensemble didn’t include a single piece of jewelry, and her face was scrubbed clean of any cosmetics. “Zoey Zastrow.” Her lips quivered. “So we meet again.”
Biting my bottom lip, I glanced over Glori to scan the road, wishing Grayson would come to my rescue. “Mrs. Finkle, you shouldn’t be here.”
“Please, call me Glori.” She barged her way inside, flashing her fingers in front of her. The stench of alcohol oozed from her breath. “I no longer want anything to do with that dreadful surname.”
“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for us to have any kind of conversation, Glori. Especially when you’ve been day-drinking. I work for the island’s Chief of Police now, and Detective Rivers is on his way here.”
Glori spun around jerkily, a knowing smile growing on her lips. “You mean the sexy boyfriend?”
“He’s your boyfriend now?” Teenie yelled from my room.
“Never mind, Teenie!” I called back. “This conversation isn’t for you to hear!”
“Who was that?” Glori’s sloppy gaze darted around the house. “Your mother?”
“My landlord.” I shook my head. “Whatever you have to say should be conveyed in an official capacity, down at the station. I’m sure your husband’s attorney wouldn’t want you disclosing anything that may incriminate him.”
“Screw my soon-to-be-ex!” she spat. “I always suspected he was stepping out on me! You did me a favor by exposing him as the creep he is!” She shook her head mournfully. “That poor, poor woman…forgotten about in an unmarked grave all because that psychopath wanted to conceal his extramarital shenanigans.”
“I’m sorry, Glori. Truly.”
“Not as sorry as I am for marrying the cheating bastard.” Glori fastened her cold fingers around my arm. “If it helps ease your worries any, sweetheart, I believe he never intended to do you any physical harm. He’s truly a coward—always has been. I was the one in our marriage who had to dispose of insects and rodents.” With a nasally laugh, she released me and wandered over to one of the stools at the kitchen island. She plopped down with the coordination of a rag doll. “While Ron was in jail, I packed his things. I came across something you might be able to use in your search for his missing mistress.” Tongue darting out from her lips, she dug into the oversized designer purse hanging from her shoulder. “Just a minute…no, that’s not it…I believe…ah! There’s the buggar!”
Her fingers emerged with a postcard creased down the center. She held it up to show me the image of crystal clear waterfalls spilling into aqua blue water. “GREETINGS FROM CEBU ISLAND, PHILIPPINES” was printed on the top. After a moment, she thrusted the card at me. “Go ahead, read it.”
I stepped forward and took the card, turning it around. It was addressed to Elizabeth Wells at an address in Destin, Florida.
Elizabeth Wells, as in Ginny’s birth mother.
My dearest Elizabeth,
Each morning when I open my eyes, I miss seeing the beauty of your face beside me. I look forward to the day when you can join me here in paradise. As hard as it is to wait, I know your reunion with your daughter will be well worth it.
Yours always, Alejandro xoxo
“A person has to ask themselves, how does Ron know Elizabeth and Alejandro?” Glori drawled. “We don’t know anyone by those names. And how did that postcard end up in his possession?”
She was absolutely right. Who was Alejandro, and how did Ron end up with a postcard addressed to his lover’s mother? When had this reunion between Ginny and Elizabeth taken place? Had Ron learned of Ginny’s inheritance, and killed her so he could take it for himself?
I threw Glori a pasted-on smile. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
“Go ahead. It’s as useless to me as my marriage to Ronald.” Glori stood, swatting her hand through the air. “I hope it can help you right whatever wrongs he did to that poor dead woman.”
“How did you get here?” I asked, watching her waddle back toward the door.
“I walked. It’s not far.”
“Hold on, I’m calling the Gorilla Bus.”
I had to admit, the island no longer felt safe.
Grayson spent the majority of the flight to Destin on his phone in the back of the small jet, making arrangements using the private plane’s Wifi network. I continually replayed the conversation with Glori in my head, trying to connect Ron to Ginny’s mother in every way imaginable. The most reasonable explanation, I concluded, involved Ginny somehow receiving the postcard and passing it along to Ron. I was beginning to get the sickening feeling that Ron had in fact killed Ginny.
When the pilot announced it was time to prepare for landing, Grayson finished his final call and buckled into the seat across the tiny aisle from me. Seeing him in a light-colored sports jacket, shirt unbuttoned underneath, made it hard not to stare, and reminisce about the night I saw him shirtless as he rescued Lucky.
He plucked the postcard from my fingers. “You’ve been staring at this since we took off,” he said, flipping it over several times. “This could be an important key to solving this case.”
“Do you think it could somehow prove that Ron killed Ginny?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not sure. What’s your gut telling you?”
“That I should’ve accepted the bag of peanuts they offered after takeoff.” Remembering how Travis Parker died, I grimaced and straightened the skirt on my blue dress. “Speaking of peanuts, how do we know whether or not someone intentionally killed that private investigator?”
“We may never know.” His fingers combed through his dark hair as he glanced out one of the oval windows. “I spoke with the detective on the case, and they weren’t able to prove any foul play occurred. He didn’t sound too interested in reopening the investigation.”
“I can’t shake the feeling that we’re on the verge of discovering what happened to the woman Ron buried.” As the plane began to descend, flipping my stomach, I clutched the armrests at my sides. I had never flown on anything smaller than a 737, and the private jet was hardly bigger than the tiki bar at Beach Bummers. “The facts keep circling back to Ginny and her family.”
His gaze slipped over to me. “If you’re right, this could all be over soon.”
“When do we meet with Travis’s colleague?”
“He said he’d be available as soon as we land.”
The tug of excitement had me sitting a little taller. “Did he say whether or not he’s willing to disclose everything in Travis’s file?”
“One better—he’s letting us hold onto the file for as long as we’re in the area, and he offered to take us to Anton Wells’s estate. You could be onto something when you suggested we interview the neighbors to see if they know anything about Anton's relationship with his daughter and Ginny.” His warm hand covered mine. “I’ll be glad once we’ve solved this, and you’re able to sleep at night without letting Ginny’s whereabouts eat at you.”
“Like the visuals Ron described will be anything I’ll forget about anytime soon.” Although I supposed I would feel a little better knowing who had died that night. When the wheels connected with pavement, slightly jerking us forward, I slipped my hand out from beneath his.
The man hired to find Ginny was dead. What if it was because he had found the answers I was searching for when he paid a visit to the same destination in which Grayson and I were headed?
Melvin “Risky” Risk was a short, lithe man with an abundance of long black hair that hung like curtains around his narrow features and wrinkled brow.
As he drove us through Destin, responding to each of Grayson’s questions with stuttered breaths, his neck remained stiff. His clothes were wrinkled, and the odor of chewing tobacco clung to his pale skin.
Between questions, Grayson skimmed through Travis’s file on the Wells family. “Did Travis say anything to you about Ginny or her grandfather before he died?”
“Only that he suspected he had found Ginny,” Risky answered, his soprano pitch lowering. “Can’t say I gave it too much thought until my receptionist brought it up. I’m starting to think she may be right. Anton Wells was worth a fortune.”
Grayson’s gaze caught mine. “He didn’t mention to anyone where he thought she might be?”
“Nah, but I’d bet my life it had something to do with the grandfather’s former residence. I don’t know why else he would’ve been headed there the day he'd died. It had been years since the home was sold off by Anton’s daughter.”
“We were told by George Jones that Elizabeth Wells was last seen in the Philippine Islands.” I slid forward on the backseat of Risky’s older Tahoe, resting my hand on the back of the passenger’s seat occupied by Grayson. “Did Travis mention whether or not she had gone there to meet someone? Perhaps someone named Alejandro?”
“You’d have to check the file,” Risky told me. “Between arrangements for the funeral and all the calls from Travis’s clients that I’ve been fielding, I haven’t had a lot of time to dissect the details.”
Risky turned off a heavily wooded highway and drove several blocks before white sand and palm trees came into view. Within minutes, we were surrounded by middle-class homes dotted along the gulf’s shoreline. The homes quickly morphed into massive mansions that made our island’s most exquisite homes resemble shacks. Behind elegant iron gates and grand entrances, some of the properties stretched well beyond the length of an entire city block.
