Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Collection

by Angela K Ryan

  "Um, that's not what I meant," Connie said, a little surprised at his callousness toward his previous tenant who could possibly be in danger. Or worse. "It just seems strange that she would just leave her child behind like that. What do you suppose happened?"

  Mickey sat down on one of the armchairs and let out a deep breath. "It's true, she loved that little girl, but I guess drugs make people do strange things," he said with a shrug. "Victoria's father, Jordan Sugrue, came by about a couple of weeks before she went missing. He was concerned for his daughter. He claimed that Natasha had a history of drug use, and he had reason to believe she might be using again. He asked me to keep an eye on her and call him if I saw anything suspicious."

  "Did you? See anything suspicious, I mean?" Connie asked.

  Mickey tugged at the beach towel around his neck. "I popped in regularly but didn't notice anything unusual. Except for one night, after the store closed, when I found a drug needle in the shrubs out back. She was a little late with the rent on a few occasions before her disappearance, but business always looked pretty steady to me. Who knows? Maybe she was using her profits for drugs."

  "Maybe she couldn't take the pressure of running a business and being a single mom and turned back to drugs," Grace interjected. "Unfortunately, it happens."

  Connie thought about the ledger and the to-do list she found. According to the ledger, business was good. And one of the items on her list was to confront her accountant. Maybe there was a connection. If Natasha had reason to believe that her accountant was skimming money off the top of her business, that might explain why she felt the need to keep her own records. It’s possible that something went wrong when Natasha confronted the accountant.

  "I guess anything is possible," Connie said. She didn't want to reveal to Mickey the information she had. "By the way, I'm looking for a good accountant to keep my books. Do you happen to know anyone?"

  "A lot of my people around here use Tracy Peterson," Mickey said. "I think she did Natasha's books. I have her number if you'd like."

  "That would be great." There was no way Connie was going to hire Tracy, but this might provide her with the chance to get some information.

  Before leaving, Mickey wrote down Tracy's phone number and address on a piece of paper Connie had fished out of her purse, and she thanked him for his help.

  When Mickey left, Connie went out to get sandwiches for Grace and her and brought them back to the shop, where Grace was opening boxes and unwrapping pictures, mirrors, and other items that Connie had saved to potentially hang in the shop.

  "Grace, you have done far more than your share of work. Please, just relax."

  "Oh, sweetie, I'm happy to do it. I keep thinking how proud Concetta would be to see this shop."

  Tears stung Connie's eyes. She put her arm around Grace's shoulders, and they sat down for lunch at the large table.

  "Why all the questions for your landlord?" Grace asked, while they munched on their sandwiches. Connie got turkey and swiss with avocado and Grace tried the grilled chicken with Brie cheese and green apple. The sandwich shop was definitely a keeper.

  Although Connie had told her friends at dinner last night about the items she had found under the loose floorboards, at that point Connie hadn't yet read the contents, so she caught Grace up to speed on the details. She read from her phone a few entries from Natasha’s diary, where her love for her daughter was apparent.

  "Mickey had a point," Grace said. "Drugs can make people do things they otherwise would never consider."

  Connie swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. "True, but what if there's more to the story? Victoria will want answers when she gets older about what happened to her mother, and she deserves to have them."

  "She most certainly does, but you gave everything to the police. I'm sure they will do everything they possibly can to find those answers."

  I'm sure they will, Connie thought, but a few casual conversations of my own couldn't hurt.

  Chapter 4

  After lunch, the women spent a few more hours unpacking boxes before collapsing into the nearest chair. The upholstered seats were far more comfortable than the metal ones from yesterday, and the table provided a solid surface to lean on.

  "I can't look at another box," Connie said, lifting her head to meet Grace's tired gaze. "Let's call it a day."

  Grace's weary expression, as she nodded in agreement, said it all.

  However, their plans for a quick exit were interrupted when another visitor came through the door.

  "I hope it's this busy when we open," Connie jokingly whispered to Grace.

  "I come bearing gifts," their visitor said with a friendly smile. His head was shaved, and he wore a black tank top that revealed well-defined shoulders and biceps. This guy definitely hit the gym on a daily basis. An impressive tattoo of an eagle in flight on his left arm caught Connie's eye. She thought she remembered passing him on the street a few times but hadn't officially met him.

  He handed Connie and Grace each a green smoothie. "I'm Gallagher McKeon," he said. "I own Gallagher's Tropical Shack, the restaurant and bar across the street. Or The Shack, as it is affectionately referred to."

  Connie loved the exotic feel that the thatched roof on Gallagher's restaurant added to her view.

  "Thanks," she said, introducing herself and Grace while she happily accepted the smoothie. "What's in them?"

  "Almond milk, lots of leafy greens, and some apple with a touch of honey to cut the bitterness. I saw the moving truck leave this morning and noticed you've been working all day, so I thought you could use an afternoon pick-me-up."

  "You look like a healthy young man," Grace said. "If it works for you, I'm willing to give it a try."

  Connie placed her hand on Grace's shoulder. "Don't let Grace fool you. This young lady does mini-triathlons. She could out-exercise me anytime."

  Gallagher put his right hand over his heart. "I'm impressed."

  "This is pretty good," Connie said, holding up the half-emptied cup. "I think I feel the energy kicking in already. Do you sell them next door?"

  "We do offer them, but we don't sell a lot. We attract more of an adult beverage type crowd. But I keep them on the menu to give people a healthy option. I like to keep fit, and they help me get those extra nutrients for my workouts."

  "Well, I'll certainly be coming by for another," Connie said.

  After chatting for a few minutes, Gallagher excused himself so he could help his staff prepare for the dinner rush, and Connie and Grace locked up shop. It was a little after 3:00 PM, and Connie was thrilled to have the rest of the day to herself. It would be a much-needed reprieve in the middle of a busy several months, and the warm sun and saltwater were beckoning.

  The year-round sunshine of southwest Florida was one of the factors that had always attracted Connie to the area, even while her aunt was still alive. She would often try to get away in February or March, even if only for a long weekend, for that cherished dose of vitamin D.

  After completing her one-mile commute down Sapphire Beach Boulevard, Connie parked in her designated spot in the underground garage. She climbed the stairs to the luxurious lobby of Palm Paradise and made her way across the marble floor to check her mailbox. Just bills and junk mail. Then she stopped to say a quick hello to Jessica, the condo management representative who kept on-site office hours, and went up to her condo, where she received a hero's welcome from Ginger. After taking her for a long walk, Connie changed into her bathing suit.

  She felt slightly guilty about leaving Ginger again, but she couldn’t leave the dog unattended on the beach while she swam. "Don't worry, sweet girl, I won't be long, and tomorrow you get to come to the shop with me."

  It was Connie's favorite time of day for a swim. Although the sun was no longer at its peak, it still shone strongly in the sky. She followed the cement pathway that brought her from the main entrance to the lobby around to the back of the building, past the pool area, and onto the silky white sands of
Sapphire Beach.

  Connie spread her towel across the soft sand and sat with her face turned toward the warmth of the sun. As she watched a paddle boarder glide along the coast, Connie promised herself she would purchase her own board as soon as possible. Ever since Elyse introduced her to the sport in January, she was hooked. But for now, a swim would do just fine.

  She chuckled to herself thinking of Elyse's not-so-subtle attempts to convince her to relocate to Sapphire Beach instead of going with her original plan to sell her aunt's condo. I guess Elyse got the last laugh on that one.

  Connie waded into the water until she was hip deep, then leaned back, as though falling into a giant green pillow. She side-stroked her way to the swimmers' lane, where she could swim some laps without bothering those splashing around near the shore.

  When she got a little way out, Connie switched to the crawl stroke. Focusing only on the sound of her breathing and the cool water against her body, she tuned out everything else. Within a few minutes, her head began to clear, and her body relaxed. The reaching motion of the crawl stroke stretched the muscles in her arms and torso, stiff from all the cleaning and unpacking. After about twenty minutes of swimming, she rolled onto her back and allowed the waves to carry her back to shore.

  She wasn't quite ready to get out, so she sat in the shallow water and let the gentle waves crash over her body. It didn't take long for her thoughts, like wood floating on a gentle wave, to drift towards Natasha.

  Connie couldn't help but feel a connection to the young mother. Perhaps it was because they each pursued a dream that led them to the same shop in Sapphire Beach - Natasha as a boutique owner who wanted a better life for her baby daughter, and Connie as a jewelry maker who believed she could provide a better life for families in developing countries by selling their creations.

  Or maybe Connie was just letting sentimentality get the best of her. After all, Victoria's father said that Natasha struggled with addiction, and he had concerns that she was using again. And Mickey had found a drug needle in the bushes behind the shop.

  But that was only circumstantial evidence. It could have belonged to anyone who decided to hide behind the shops after hours to do drugs.

  Judging from Natasha's diary, Connie saw no indications of anything beyond a mother who would do whatever it took to give her child a good life. She even apparently fled from something in her past to protect her daughter. Connie wondered if Victoria's father was part of what she had run from. If he was, and it had been as bad as her diary indicated, then nothing he said could be trusted.

  Then there was Natasha's accountant, Tracy, with whom she had had some type of confrontation shortly before her disappearance. Was that connected to the accounting ledger Natasha kept? According to Natasha's records, she was turning a pretty good profit. So, if not because of drugs, then why was she late with her rent, as Mickey had said? Maybe Natasha confronted Tracy, and the encounter went bad.

  Or it could be something else altogether. Connie just had too little to go on. But one thing she did know: there were too many unanswered questions to assume she ran away.

  At least she had Tracy's contact information. Maybe she could learn something by talking to her. And Gallagher seemed friendly. Being right across the street, perhaps he had some insight.

  Satisfied that she had had enough of the water for one day, and not wanting to leave Ginger alone much longer, Connie toweled off and went back upstairs. She heated up some leftovers and relaxed on the couch for the rest of the evening.

  ***

  On Saturday morning, Connie woke up refreshed from her afternoon off and headed straight into the shop with Ginger in tow. Since she would mostly be unpacking boxes of displays and jewelry, Connie had insisted that Grace take the day off. She had already been more than generous with her time.

  Ginger loved her doggie area, which contained her bed, a few toys, and bowls for water and food. Connie had strategically placed it near the storage room, so that if Ginger wished to escape from the activity of the shop, she could hide out there, or if she preferred, she would be free to roam about.

  Pulling up her favorite playlist on her phone for ambiance, Connie got to work opening boxes and spreading their contents on various product shelves throughout the store. She had photos of her artisans and landscapes of the countries where they lived. The artisans were a huge part of the shop, and since they couldn't be there in person, she wanted to make sure their photos had a prominent spot. Which reminded her, she needed to make sure Steve or Brittany came back to hang them up. She pulled out her phone and shot Steve a text.

  Then she unpacked some small handwoven baskets and carved wooden statues of animals she had chosen from her Kenyan collection and arranged them haphazardly between the jewelry displays in the Fair Trade section. Once the shelves were stocked with jewelry, she'd take more time to accessorize them, but for now she just wanted to empty the boxes.

  By late morning, Connie was ready for a break. Reaching into her pocket, she fished out the piece of paper with Tracy's phone number and address. Now was as good a time as any.

  Chapter 5

  Tracy worked from an office in her home, so even though it was Saturday, Connie hoped she might still be there. After attaching Ginger's leash and locking up the store, Connie and her little sidekick made the short walk to the car. The GPS took them to one of the side streets off the main boulevard, not too far from where Stephanie lived. Tracy's neighborhood was filled with comfy-looking bungalows that were only a short walk to the beach.

  When Connie arrived at the house, she pulled her car in front of Tracy's mermaid mailbox and took Ginger with her up to the house. The dog would give her a good excuse not to stay long if anything didn't feel right.

  Connie hesitated at the sound of a familiar masculine voice coming through the door. Where had she had heard that voice before? She pressed her finger into the black wrought iron doorbell and was greeted by a woman who looked to be in her late thirties with a medium build and dark curls that fell just above her shoulders.

  Mickey Miranda was peeking out from behind her.

  He quickly explained to Tracy that Connie was a new business owner in town and that he had recommended her as an accountant.

  In reality, Connie's father was an accountant and had offered to take care of her accounting needs free of charge, calling it a win-win. "I can both support my daughter's venture,” he had said, “and also contribute to a great cause." But Mickey and Tracy didn’t need to know that.

  "Actually, I'm planning to wait until the business is off the ground before hiring anyone," Connie explained to Tracy, "but I just thought I'd put out some feelers sooner rather than later."

  "I was just on my way out," Mickey said. Then, holding Tracy's gaze, he said, "You be sure to treat her fairly."

  Mickey’s comment struck Connie as odd. Was it just an expression, or was Tracy in the habit of treating people unfairly?

  Tracy invited Connie inside while she got a list of her services and rates.

  Connie waited in the foyer, admiring some photos on the wall, while Tracy disappeared down the hallway. Within a couple of minutes, she had returned with a professional-looking list in hand.

  "This must be your sister," Connie said, pointing to one of the photos that hung above a half moon table in the foyer. "The two of you look so much alike."

  Tracy swallowed hard. "Yes, that's Tiffany. But we haven't seen each other in a while." For a moment her thoughts seemed a million miles away, but she quickly regained her composure as she handed Connie the list.

  "Do you mind if we talk outside?" Connie asked, motioning toward two blue Adirondack chairs in the front yard. "I wouldn't want Ginger here to track dirt into your living room." She felt safer knowing that at least Mickey knew where she was. That is, unless Mickey was on Team Tracy.

  "Of course," she said, leading the way to the chairs.

  As soon as Connie sat, Ginger jumped on her lap.

  "These rates seem fair." Ac
tually, from what she knew of her father's business, they seemed pretty low. Hopefully that wasn't because Tracy made up the difference by pilfering money from clients.

  "Thank you for this," Connie said, folding it and putting it in her pocket. "I will be in touch as soon as I am ready to talk business. As I said earlier, for now I'm just focusing on getting up and running. I'm still learning my way around. In fact," Connie said, looking directly at Tracy, "I just heard what happened to poor Natasha Orlov. I understand she was a client of yours."

  Tracy's eyes widened for a moment. "Yes," she said after a brief pause, "such a tragedy. Business had been a little slow. I guess the pressure got to her."

  "It seems strange that she would just take off, given she was so committed to her business and her daughter," Connie said. "Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm her?"

  Tracy gaze was so intense that it felt like she was looking straight through Connie. It gave her the feeling she was being sized up. "I think it's more likely that she ran away. But then again," she added, "it could have been her landlord."

  Connie's shocked expression must have spoken for itself. It didn’t take long for Tracy to throw Mickey under the bus.

  "Between you and me, Natasha was falling further and further behind on her rent, and he had warned her that if she didn't catch up soon, he would take action. She kept talking her way into more time, but he was losing patience."

  Mickey had said that Natasha was late a couple of times, but according to him, she had been caught up by the time she disappeared. Of course, if Mickey had been involved in Natasha's disappearance, he might not want to reveal his motive.

  Since Connie had already come this far, she decided to bite the bullet and ask her burning question. "Tracy, I found some information that seemed to indicate that Natasha's store was doing pretty well financially. There was also a note that she was going to confront you about stealing money from her. I only ask, because, if we are going to do business together, I want to make sure I can trust those on my team." The note never mentioned stealing money, but Connie wanted to gauge Tracy's reaction.