“An abduction. Sounds like just the perfect storyline for those Hollywood types who are in town,” the other said. “I knew there was going to be trouble when I heard they were filming here. Do you remember what I said? I said, ‘Mark my words, this will be trouble.’ And it is.”
“You mark every word you say,” his tall companion added, an edge of teasing condescension in his voice.
“Erma, will you get us some coffee and whatever today’s special is?” the short one said. “It’s on me today because Larry says I never pay. I need to prove him wrong.” He paused before adding, “mark my words.”
Larry groaned. “You think you’re so funny.”
“What happened? I heard the police were down there at the Spellman estate.” Erma joined their conversation, holding what appeared to be Riley’s and my food in her hands. Our eggs were getting colder than a corpse by the second, but I really didn’t care.
“It’s some kind of dating show,” Larry said. “One of the girls was snatched by men in a boat with machine guns.”
Machine guns? I’d missed that part of the story when Joey talked to us.
“Apparently, they were wearing gorilla costumes,” the man continued.
Everyone in the restaurant seemed to stop eating in order to listen.
“Gorilla costumes—like the ape?” Erma asked, her eyes widening.
“Yep, like the ape,” Larry said.
Erma shivered. “Scary for that to be happening right on our normally peaceful shores.”
“Apparently, the woman who was snatched was loaded,” someone else said from the other side of the restaurant. “That’s what the tabloids said, at least. That was before she was snatched, ‘course.”
“So they abducted her for her money?” Erma asked, still holding our food hostage.
“That’s my best guess. I’ll get an update from Old Yeller later when he gets back into town.”
I smiled at Riley again. Old Yeller? I imagined an old man with faded blond hair and wrinkled skin.
“We ain’t had this much excitement around here since Minnie Pearl lost her false teeth down the toilet and then called it a robbery to try and get the insurance money,” Larry said.
“It’s ‘we haven’t,’ not ‘we ain’t,” someone corrected. “No one says we ain’t. No one with any culture, at least.”
“Where I’m from, we say whatever we want. We don’t care about culture.”
A senior citizen brawl? This was going to be the most epic vacation ever.
As long as I minded my own business.
Erma finally set our plates on the table, and I ate my cold eggs. However, the conversation around me had been satisfying enough to make up for my less-than-appetizing food.
Chapter Three
As we’d eaten our breakfast, the local conversation had turned from the excitement on the beach last night to politics, to what fish were biting, and a mischief maker who had been taking people’s boats on joy rides lately.
It was all fascinating to me. Of course, not as fascinating as Vivian’s abduction. I tried to put that out of my mind as we walked back to the house.
“What do you say we spend some time on the beach?” Riley asked as he unlocked the front door.
“That sounds great.” Some sun, sand, and time with Riley. It was the perfect mix to get my mind off the fiasco taking place at the house beside ours.
As we stepped into the house, I was struck by how beautiful it was. The inside was exquisitely decorated with exotic, imported-looking furniture. The paint colors—all tropical and bright—as well as the finishing touches made the place look exquisite.
I felt as if I’d invaded someone’s dream home—and I was loving every minute of it. It sure did beat the eclectic assortment of furniture in my apartment that I’d collected from yard sales and thrift stores.
I tried to imagine having a second home like this, but it seemed beyond the realm of my reality. I’d grown up poor. Combining my income with Riley’s still seemed weird, especially since I’d only had myself to depend on for so long. Maybe money wouldn’t feel as tight anymore. That remained to be seen.
In front of me, I spotted Joey’s blanket rumpled on the couch. I noted the two coffee mugs we’d used still on the table. In some ways, last night seemed like a bad dream.
But it had really happened.
Riley wrapped his arms around me from behind and gently planted a kiss on my neck. He then rested his chin on my shoulder.
“I’m really happy, Gabby,” he murmured.
I leaned back into his embrace, and my insides turned to goo. I kept wanting to pinch myself. “Me too.”
I started singing “Lucky I’m in Love” by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat. To my surprise, Riley joined me.
“I’m sensing a karaoke duet in our future.” I giggled.
“Whatever you want, babe. The good news is that we have a lifetime to look forward to being together and taking trips and discovering more adventures.”
“Sounds amazing.” By adventures, I assumed he meant being a crime-fighting duo together. Before I could make a Hart to Hart reference, I heard a creak above me. Coming from upstairs.
Riley froze. He’d heard it too.
“Stay here,” he told me, his stiff muscles releasing me from our embrace.
“Riley . . .” My muscles tightened with anticipation. I wanted to believe it was just the house settling. My gut told me it wasn’t, though.
“Promise me,” he said. His gaze left no room for questions.
I finally nodded. “Okay.”
I wasn’t good at sitting back and doing nothing. I didn’t even have my cell phone in case I needed to call the police, nor did I have my gun. Both were upstairs, in the very direction where Riley was headed.
Please, Lord. Protect him. Let it be a bird. A mouse even. I’d take a rat.
But not danger. Not real danger.
I didn’t want to begin my life with Riley only to have it end. I’d struggled with the fear since Riley had come back into my life after an encounter with a serial killer had left him on the brink of death.
I stopped and listened. Silence stretched upstairs. I imagined Riley creeping around, looking for the source of the noise. I prayed no one was lying in wait for him.
Visions of what happened on the beach last night filled my mind. Machine guns. Gorilla costumes. An abduction.
What if we’d arrived here just in time for a nightmare to begin in this town?
Just then I heard a loud “Hey!” followed by footsteps pounding above me. My heart leapt into my throat.
Riley . . .
I started to dart toward the sound, but then I remembered my promise to Riley. It seemed like a horrible start to a marriage to break a promise.
But what if he needs me? I should go. Help him. The urgency of the matter trumps my promise . . . right?
My nails dug into the plaster wall behind me as my mental war raged.
More footsteps sounded, along with a shout.
That did it. I was going.
Just as I pushed myself off the wall, Riley thundered down the stairs.
My heart slowed.
He was okay.
I darted to him. “What happened?”
“There was a man upstairs,” Riley said. “He jumped from the window and disappeared on the beach. I almost jumped down after him, but I didn’t want to break a leg—especially since I wasn’t being threatened. Besides, he was too far ahead of me to catch up.”
“Why would someone be upstairs?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea. But I don’t like this.”
My mind raced, immediately wanting answers. That was just the way my mind worked. “Did you get a look at him?”
Riley shook his head. “He was wearing a black mask. It was hard to tell anything about him at all—not his age, his skin color, or even his hair. I’d guess he was about my height, and he was thin.”
In other words, we basically knew nothing. Had tro
uble followed us from Virginia? I doubted it. A whole new trouble was stirring here.
“How in the world did he get inside?” I asked, mentally retracing our steps to determine if we’d locked up behind us. I was nearly certain we had. Riley and I lived in the city. You just didn’t leave your doors unlocked there.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“We should probably call the police,” I finally said, trying to do the responsible thing and leave this in law enforcement’s capable hands.
“Yeah. I guess we should. We haven’t even been here twenty-four hours, and it looks like we’re going to become acquainted with them on a first-name basis.”
“Sounds about par for the course.”
A secret squeal of delight echoed from somewhere inside my mind.
Twenty minutes later, Old Yeller showed up, and we explained to the town’s police chief what had happened. I only knew who he was because I saw the word “Yeller” on his uniform, but I was desperately curious to know the background on his name.
The man looked nothing like I’d envisioned. He was young, with tanned skin and dark hair. His eyes were shifty, making him seem slightly untrustworthy. His tendency to touch his face and hair made him seem nervous.
The three of us stood outside on the deck, where a gentle breeze begged to carry our worries away. If only it were that easy. Another officer looked for clues inside. I resisted the urge to tell him about a great new line of products that could enhance his investigation. I trained people on how to use thus said products for my job with Grayson Tech. But it was better if I kept my mouth shut because that decreased the likelihood of me getting involved in this case.
“So you came back from breakfast and heard a sound upstairs?” Old Yeller repeated, glancing from his notepad to Riley and me and then back down again.
“That’s correct.” Riley placed his hands on his hips. “The man was upstairs in one of the bedrooms.”
“Was anything taken?”
“Not that we can tell,” Riley said.
“Maybe you got here early and scared him away,” Yeller said.
“No one was supposed to be staying here,” I added. “He could have assumed the place was empty . . . except our car was out front. It should have been a dead giveaway.”
Had he been watching the house, waiting for us to leave? I shivered at the thought. There were many things I could handle, but being watched creeped me out.
“Maybe we’ll find a clue inside that will tell us who this guy is and what he was up to,” Yeller said.
Something about the way he said it left me with the impression that he was secretly thinking, But don’t count on it. He was simply trying to appease us.
I’d glanced upstairs myself before the police arrived and hadn’t seen any overwhelming evidence that would point to who did this or what he was up to. Of course, it was hard to tell much because Mr. Murphy had left his own items here. If something had been taken, it would be hard to ascertain what. My guess was that the intruder hadn’t been here that long when we’d arrived.
I wasn’t ready for this conversation with Chief Yeller to be finished yet. I still had more questions, but I needed to appear unassuming and normal—two words that rarely described me. Standing with my arms crossed and eyes narrowed as if I was about to begin a cross-examination probably wouldn’t do me any favors.
I rested one of my hands against a turquoise Adirondack chair beside me. “Chief, is this in any way tied in with what happened on the beach last night? You know . . . the woman who was abducted.”
“Why would it be?” Yeller scratched his head, leaving a dark lock out of place.
I took a long sip of water from one of the cups I’d filled for all of us earlier. The day was already heating up—in more ways than one. The action also allowed me to measure my words and actions and to hopefully subdue my impatience.
“Well, how often do crimes occur on the island?” I continued.
He shrugged. “Not often.”
“But you’ve had two crimes in less than twenty-four hours and both have occurred within one hundred feet of this house.” Riley narrowed his eyes in thought. “You don’t think there’s a connection?”
The chief blinked. “Well, now that you put it that way . . .”
I decided to play the victim here and brought my voice—and outrage at his seeming incompetence—down a notch. “What’s going on? Should I be frightened? I mean, somehow, this man got into the house, and there are no signs of forced entry. Meanwhile, men with machine guns and gorilla costumes were on the beach.”
“Machine guns and gorilla costumes? You must have been listening to the townspeople shooting the breeze. They always like to exaggerate.”
“Should I be frightened?” I repeated.
Yeller shifted as if uncomfortable. “We’re still trying to figure things out, ma’am. The good news is that the intruder didn’t seem to have malicious intent.”
I leaned closer and lowered my voice. “Can you tell me this, at least: Are random abductions normal for this area? Do you have any idea what happened to that woman last night? Should I be frightened to be on the beach alone?”
He stared at me stoically, like my questions tested his patience. “We don’t know anything yet. We’re still working on it. And this is generally an extremely safe community, so I wouldn’t let this interrupt your vacation plans.”
Riley pulled me closer. “This is not the way we planned on spending our honeymoon.”
Yeller raised his chin. “I understand that, sir. I assure you that we’re working hard to find some answers.”
“I fear this is all connected with that show being filmed next door.” I crossed my arms, fishing for answers. What did Yeller know that I didn’t? What I wouldn’t do to go over there and question everyone myself . . .
“Again, we’re not sure. There’s no evidence at this point that these crimes are connected with the show.” He rubbed his forehead again. “Now, about this break-in at your place . . .”
Chapter Four
No sooner had Old Yeller left than did Wally appear on the sand below. He watched the chief leave, an almost amused look in his eyes.
“You get to talk to the police again?” he said from down below. “Lucky you.”
“I suppose,” Riley said. “What can we do for you?”
He squinted up at us, still sporting that Miami Vice vibe in his sports coat and sunglasses. “Do you mind if I come up for a minute? Or would you both come down?”
“We’ll be right there,” Riley said, before muttering to me, “What’s one more interruption to our trip?”
I could tell he was getting frustrated, and I felt badly about it. He’d worked hard to plan this, and nothing seemed to be working out as he’d envisioned.
We met Wally at the back door.
“Everything okay?” Wally pulled his sunglasses down on his nose as he looked back-and-forth from Riley to me. “I saw the police activity outside.”
“Just a little break-in,” I said.
His eyebrows shot up. “Break-in? Maybe we should do a better job scouting our locations for Looking for Love. I feel like we should be filming CSI or one of those other crime dramas. Anyway, I wanted to know if you’d had a chance to look at that contract I left yesterday . . .”
I couldn’t hold my tongue. “You’re still worried about that? One of your contestants is missing!”
He put on an overly animated expression of sorrow. “Of course, we’re concerned about Vivian. Deeply concerned. We’re doing everything we can to get her back. But we also have a business here. Time is money when you’re working on these shows, and we’re already over budget. Ricky’s agent knows how to get a good cash advance.”
“He has an agent?” I asked. “So he’s an actor, not some guy off the street who wants to find his soul mate?”
I really shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact. It was just that I’d only recently started to believe in love again, and I hated
to see people being fooled by cheap imitations of the real thing.
Wally scoffed. “No, of course not. He’s looking for love.”
I doubted that. I wondered how many of the women were also actresses. Reality TV wasn’t grounded in any reality at all.
“I’m surprised you’re still filming,” I said, not ready to let this drop.
“We’re not. Not right now. We’re going dark for at least twenty-four hours to be respectful.”
“And after that?”
“After that, we’ll have to see. Vivian would want the show to go on.”
Uh huh. I was sure she would. I mean, most reasonable people would want others to forget about them and what happened to them after a dramatic abduction in which there was no resolution. I kept my sarcasm at bay.
“How’s Joey?” I asked, remembering how upset she’d seemed.
His jaw flexed. “Joey’s hanging in. We brought in a masseuse to help the ladies cope.”
“A masseuse? What about a counselor?” Riley asked.
“Oh, one of those too. Of course. But to these women . . . everything is better with some wine, pampering, and a lot of air time.” He let out a clipped laugh before clapping his hands. “So, about those release forms . . .”
I shook my head. Riley and I hadn’t even talked about it—we’d all but forgotten about them with the excitement—but the answer was a no brainer, and I felt certain Riley would agree. “We’re not signing. I don’t want to be connected with this show in any way, shape, or form.”
“Are you sure? There could be some compensation involved . . .” His voice lilted upward, as if money might tempt us.
“We’re not interested,” Riley confirmed. “Especially not now that a woman is missing.”
He stared at us another moment before nodding coldly. “Your loss.”
As we watched him walk away, a cold, hard stone seemed to form in my gut.
If that was show business, I wanted no part of it.
After Wally left, Riley and I walked down to the general market and bought a few groceries for the week. We came home, ate lunch—sandwiches—and then we headed out to the beach.
Swept Away: A Squeaky Clean Honeymoon Novella (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 12) Page 3
