Storm Season

by Charlotte Douglas

“What’s the female equivalent of a sugar daddy?” Porter asked.

  Adler glanced at me. “Probably not anything we could mention in mixed company.”

  “Now we’re down to only one named suspect,” I said, “and that’s Tonya McClain. I’d suggest that Kimberly quit wasting her money on protection and go home, but something tells me we haven’t heard the last of our shooter.”

  “Wynona Wisdom has buckets of money,” Porter said. “Who gets it if she dies?”

  I’d already covered that base with Kimberly. “A shelter for abused women in Omaha, AIDS research, and the Nature Conservancy.”

  “None of those organizations is likely to hire a hit man in order to speed up their inheritance,” Adler said.

  “So what do we do next?” Porter asked.

  “Besides checking out McClain?” Adler said. “There’s nothing else to do but wait.”

  I RETURNED TO MY OFFICE. Darcy met me with a handful of message slips and an inquisitive stare.

  “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

  “I’m investigating a murder.” I knew what she was asking, but I didn’t want to talk about it.

  Darcy’s curiosity had apparently passed its tolerance point. She followed me into my office and plopped into the chair across from my desk as if staking a claim.

  “Bill hasn’t been into the office since before Hurricane Harriet,” she said. “Did you two have a fight?”

  I sank into my desk chair and shook my head.

  “Is he out of town on assignment?”

  “No.”

  “Then where is he? And don’t tell me it’s none of my business,” Darcy said. “If you and Malcolm split, this agency is toast and so is my job. That makes it my business.”

  Darcy was more than an employee. She was a friend and, although she hadn’t openly stated it, concern for more than her job was obvious in her expression.

  “Bill’s with his ex-wife,” I said.

  Darcy’s dark eyes mirrored her surprise. “Holy crap, Maggie, that’s a bummer.”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Since my investigation was temporarily dead in the water, I took the time to fill Darcy in on the story of Bill’s marriage and divorce and Trish’s recent abandonment by her husband. “As a result, Bill’s been helping Trish find an apartment and a job.”

  “Here?”

  “Where else?”

  “She should have gone to her daughter’s.”

  “Melanie’s a spoiled brat. She wouldn’t have her.”

  “You have to get that woman out of your house, Maggie, while you still can.”

  “I trust Bill.”

  “This isn’t about him. It’s about her and what she’s capable of. I know Trish’s type. I see ’em all the time, women who think they’re incomplete without a man to lean on. They play weak and helpless, and before some clueless guy knows what hit him, they have their claws sunk so deep he can’t escape.”

  “Bill’s not clueless,” I said, hoping I was right.

  Darcy shook her head and gave me a sad little smile. “He’s a man, isn’t he? That makes him vulnerable to a woman who makes him think he’s her only hope, her savior. And especially if he loved Trish before. I’m telling you, Maggie, this woman is bad news.”

  “I can’t just kick her out.”

  “Sure you can. It’s your house, too.”

  “But if Bill’s feeling sorry for her, my lack of sympathy will make him think I’m awful.”

  “Lordy, if he’s that far gone, then it’s already too late.”

  I was beginning to fear Darcy was right. Bill was in over his head, Trish was setting down roots and my putting my foot down would only make waves.

  Then a brilliant idea hit me, and I smiled.

  Darcy tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “I know that look. What are you scheming?”

  “I can’t protest without looking bitchy, so what if I use reverse psychology?”

  “You’re not going to encourage Bill to spend more time with his ex? That could backfire.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m going to volunteer to help.”

  Comprehension dawned on Darcy’s face in the form of an evil grin. “Trish won’t know what hit her.”

  I nodded. “I’ll ask Bill to take up the slack in the investigation, while I go apartment shopping and job hunting with Trish. Her poor-me act won’t work on me.”

  “And you’ll get her away from Bill. Good plan.”

  Darcy had grown up in a poor neighborhood, but with hard work, education and determination, she’d moved up and out.

  “How’d you get to be so smart?” I said.

  She shrugged. “When I was in high school, too many girls my age thought it was cool to get pregnant, have lots of babies. They hooked up with any dude who came along and ended up with a houseful of kids, all the bills and men who came and went when it suited them. I swore I’d never tie my self-esteem to a man.”

  “Is that why you’ve never married?”

  A smile lighted her attractive face. “Don’t get me wrong. I like men, but I don’t need them. There’s a difference. If the right man comes along, one who wants to be an equal partner, bear his share of the load, like your Bill, I’d marry in a heartbeat.”

  The phone rang, and Darcy reached across my desk to answer. “Pelican Bay Investigations.”

  She listened for a minute. “Yeah, Adler, she’s right here.”

  Darcy handed me the receiver and returned to her office.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Tonya McClain,” Adler said. “You’ll never guess where we located her.”

  “Must be close or you wouldn’t sound so interested.”

  “She’s working as a civilian for CENTCOM at MacDill Air Force Base and living in a condo in Safety Harbor.”

  “This could be our lucky break,” I said.

  “I’ll interview her tomorrow,” Adler said. “I’d go tonight, but I have another meeting with the contractor. Sharon wants me to light a fire under him. And Porter’s got a union meeting.”

  “I’ll go,” I said. “Give me the address.”

  Dave provided directions to Tonya’s place off Philippe Parkway, and I jotted them down.

  “This could be another dead end,” he added.

  “Maybe.” But to me, the interview with Tonya was also a means to an end.

  I hung up with Adler and punched in Bill’s cell number.

  “Where are you?” I asked when he answered.

  “On my way to the house. I’m picking up Trish for dinner.”

  “Something’s come up that I need you to do.” I explained that Adler wanted someone to interview Tonya McClain as soon as possible.

  “I’ll get on it right after I take Trish to eat,” Bill said.

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t I have dinner with Trish? She could probably use a woman’s point of view on her situation. You’ll have a break from chauffeur duty and a chance to get up to speed on our current investigation.”

  His instant agreement was gratifying. I gave him Tonya’s address. “Tell Trish I’ll pick her up in ten minutes.”

  Darcy was shutting down her computer when I came out of my office.

  “Bill’s going on an interview, and I’m taking Trish to dinner. It’s about time I staked out my territory.”

  Darcy grinned. “The ex-Mrs. Malcolm won’t know what hit her.”

  We exchanged high fives, and I left.

  HAVING ANOTHER WOMAN answer the door at my own house was disconcerting. It also reinforced my resolve. Trish had been through a rough time, a traumatic and humiliating experience, and I sympathized with her, but her distress didn’t give her the right to move in on my life. I needed to make that fact clear before she settled into thinking of Bill and all that came with him, sans me, as the solution to her current dilemma.

  Her appearance had improved since the last time I saw her. Her face was no longer splotchy, her makeup was perfectly applied, and h
er hair, the seductive red of decades ago, no longer sported gray roots. She wore shorts, a knit top and flip-flops. Besides the few extra pounds, she still had her figure, but she looked her age. Tiny lines flared at the corners of her eyes and gave a crepe effect to her neck. But in spite of the inroads of time, she retained the blatant sexual appeal that had made the men of the Tampa PD drool with envy when she’d been married to Bill.

  “You ready to go eat?” I said.

  “I’m not dressed for going out. I’ll wait until Bill gets back from his interview.”

  “That could be after midnight.”

  She raised well-plucked eyebrows in surprise. “But it’s only five-fifteen.”

  “He’ll be meeting with the Clearwater police and me to fill us in on what he found out about our current case. He’ll probably pick up a sandwich coming back from Safety Harbor. I doubt you’ll see him before tomorrow.”

  She pursed her mouth in disappointment. “You’re sure?”

  All’s fair in love and war. I was lying through my teeth, but I nodded. “And what you’re wearing is fine for where we’re going.”

  “I don’t like fast food.”

  “No Mickey Ds. I’m taking you to Bill’s and my favorite place.”

  I could tell she was trying to think of an excuse, but she finally gave in. “Let me get my purse.”

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Trish and I walked into the foyer of the Dock of the Bay.

  “Hey, Maggie,” the hostess said. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’s Bill?”

  “Working tonight. Is our booth available?”

  The hostess grabbed a couple of menus and led us into the main dining room. From the old Wurlitzer in the corner, Dolly Parton was belting out “Here You Come Again.”

  Sliding into the booth, Trish made a face. “I hate country music.”

  Score one for the home team. “Bill and I like it. That’s one reason we come here.”

  Trish looked around at the pine-paneled walls, draped with fishnets filled with shells and starfish, and turned up her nose. “Looks like a dive.”

  “They serve the best burgers in the county, the old-fashioned kind.”

  Trish made another face and flipped open her menu. “I don’t eat red meat. Do they serve sushi?”

  “Only if it’s deep-fried.”

  The waitress appeared to take our drink orders. I asked for iced tea.

  “I’ll have iced tea, too,” Trish said. “Long Island.”

  She must have seen the concern on my face.

  “What’s the problem?” she said when the waitress left. “You’re the designated driver.”

  “You don’t want to get too mellow. You still have shopping to do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I nodded. “We’re going to Publix after we eat so you can stock the kitchen.”

  Trish shook her head. “There’s no need. I have coffee and stuff for sandwiches. Bill takes me out to eat.”

  “That’s the problem,” I said. “Bill doesn’t have time.”

  “He hasn’t complained.”

  I faked my sweetest smile. “He wouldn’t, would he? He’s such a sweetheart. But the pace is wearing on him. He’s not as young as he used to be.”

  Since lightning hadn’t struck me yet for telling whoppers, I continued. “In fact, he’s asked me to give him a break.”

  Trish’s face lighted. “You mean from seeing you?”

  “Good heavens, no.” I packed as much self-satisfaction into my laughter as it would hold. “He’s complaining because he doesn’t see me enough. I told him I’d take you on your errands tonight and tomorrow.”

  She eyed me with suspicion. “What will Bill be doing tomorrow?”

  “Besides working? Getting the boat ready for our cruise next weekend.”

  Trish leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. Her once-impressive bosom had yielded to gravity. “He didn’t say anything to me about a cruise.”

  “No,” I said airily. “Why would he? But now you see why getting the house stocked with groceries is important. Come this weekend, neither Bill nor I will be here to take you out to eat.”

  The waitress brought our drinks. Trish downed half of hers before ordering a chef’s salad. I ordered broiled grouper.

  “So,” I said when the waitress departed, “you must miss Seattle.”

  “I try not to think about it.” Her tone was more belligerent than sad.

  I understood her anger. In her place, I’d be wishing Harvey and his new trophy wife slow and painful deaths and for Seattle to slide into the Pacific.

  “You must have some good friends you’d like to see back home.”

  “Most of my friends are married. Now I’m a fifth wheel.”

  “What about Melanie?”

  “Melanie has her own life.”

  “So does Bill.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She was apparently going for huffy, but after slugging back her entire drink, her slurring words dulled the effect.

  “We’re getting married in a few weeks.” I showed her my engagement ring. “And we’ll be moving into the house—which we bought together,” I said with emphasis. “We’ll need you out before then. That’s why I’m taking you to look at apartments tomorrow. I’ll start moving into our house as soon as we return from our cruise.”

  She had chugged the rest of her drink and motioned to the waitress to bring another. Trish’s smile was sly and slightly drunken. “Maybe there won’t be a wedding.”

  Now her cards were on the table. Her agenda was exactly as I’d feared. With Harvey out of the picture, she wanted Bill back.

  “Give it up,” I told her. “You don’t have a chance.”

  The waitress brought another Long Island iced tea, and Trish drank greedily. At this rate, she wouldn’t need an apartment. She’d need rehab.

  She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, smearing lipstick across her cheek. “Bill loved me once. We were together for ten years. I gave him his only child.”

  A part of me felt compassion. Another part wanted to tear out her auburn tresses by their dyed roots. “And you took his child away. You divorced him, remember, and remarried.”

  She leaned across the table, so close I could smell the liquor on her breath. “But that old spark’s still there. I can get him back.”

  Her claim shook me. I knew Bill loved me. God knows, he’d pursued me long and hard over the past two decades. But I also knew how much he’d loved Trish, and that knowledge stirred my old insecurities. But I didn’t dare let Trish see me sweat. She’d move in like a shark at the scent of blood in the water.

  “Maybe you still have the spark,” I said. “Or maybe you just need a place to crash and burn after the mess you’ve made of your life. But Bill has moved on, and he hasn’t looked back.”

  The waitress brought our food, but Trish didn’t touch hers. She finished off her second drink and requested a third. If she felt so confident about a future with Bill, I doubted she’d be drowning her problems in booze. When the waitress took Trish’s order to the bar, Bud, the bartender, caught my eye with a questioning look. Trish was already too drunk to grocery shop, so I nodded my agreement to refilling her glass.

  “You should eat,” I said to her. “You’ll need your strength in the morning.”

  She stared at me with bleary eyes. “Why?”

  “Because we’re going to look for another place for you to live.”

  She wagged her head from side to side like a bobble doll. “Don’t need one. Got Bill’s.”

  “That’s only temporary.”

  “He’s gonna marry me.”

  The woman was three sheets to the wind, oblivious to reason or reality. I finished my grouper in silence while she nursed her third drink.

  After I’d paid the check, Bud left the bar and the two of us half carried Trish to my Volvo. She gazed across the parking lot to the boat-filled marina. “Nothing but friggin’ boats,” she said drunkenl
y, “and fish stink.”

  “That’s Pelican Bay,” I said. “A quaint little drinking village with a fishing problem.”

  I opened the passenger door, Bud deposited Trish on the front seat and, after a commiserating look, returned to the restaurant. I fastened Trish’s seat belt.

  “Li’l Maggie Skerritt,” she crooned in a slurring voice. “You were always too pretty. Didn’t like you spendin’ the days workin’ with my husband. He didn’t want a woman partner. Did he ever tell you that?”

  “More times than I care to remember.” When I’d been assigned to patrol on the Tampa PD, Bill had been certain having a female partner was going to get him killed. Until the day I’d saved his life.

  I tucked her right arm across her lap, shut the door and rounded the car. Once inside, I started the engine and headed for the house, praying I’d get Trish home before she tossed her cookies in the front seat.

  CHAPTER 15

  Bill was waiting at my condo when I returned from dropping off Trish. He took me into his arms, kissed me and then stepped back and wrinkled his nose.

  “Trish barfed all over our living room,” I said. “I’ve spent the last hour cleaning up.”

  I stooped to pet Roger, who’d been begging for my attention.

  “Is she ill?” Bill said.

  “No, but she will be in the morning.”

  He nodded in comprehension. “She’s been hitting the sauce hard since Harvey left.”

  “Maybe longer than that. Ever consider that her drinking might have been a factor in the split?”

  Bill looked thoughtful.

  “Why don’t you make coffee,” I said, “while I take a shower? Then you can tell me what you found out about Tonya McClain.” I suddenly remembered I had a house guest. “Where’s Kimberly?”

  “She turned in about fifteen minutes ago. She seemed beat. The stress is taking its toll.”

  Roger followed me upstairs and lay across the entrance to the shower while I bathed and washed my hair. He watched me towel off, dry my hair and don my robe, then trotted downstairs behind me. The pooch gave a whole new meaning to showering with a friend.

  The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the living room, and Bill handed me a full mug.