Chapter Thirty-Two
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C ody went on ahead. He had dinner plans with Penny, but before Daemon could leave the station he heard his name called.
“Mr. Wraith?”
He stopped and turned, and saw a uniformed policeman standing nearby, a young man with dark hair, bronze skin and square cheekbones.
Daemon strode toward him.
The man spoke quickly. “Jim Ikakuru,” he offered, shaking Daemon’s hand. “Can you meet me around the corner. There’s a bench near the Gilmar Pinna sculpture on Saco da Capela Beach? I can’t talk here,” he said.
“The giant face,” Daemon questioned.
The officer nodded.
A couple minutes after Daemon reached the world-famous metallic sculpture, the policeman arrived with two coffee cups. Daemon accepted one of the cups, saying, “Thanks.”
As Daemon followed him to the bench, Ikakuru kept speaking. “Look, I’m not trying to be disloyal or anything, but the mayor is down Oliviera’s throat, so he’s getting desperate. And the thing is… I don’t think the call on the Newirth case was right. No disrespect to the man but Oliveira is off his game right now. He’s decided because of the that it’s one of our local tribes. That’s nuts.” He hesitated for a second. “Look, I come from one of those tribes and I’m telling you Oliveira’s taking the wrong road on this one. I just…well, I’m just hoping you’ll keep looking in a different direction, because I’m telling you, this has nothing to do with the indigenous people. Trust me,” he said, “they don’t bury people alive, and they don’t run around drugging people.”
“Thanks for reaching out,” Daemon told him. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“I don’t think so.” He noted. “I just wanted to make my feelings known. Ayahuasca is for ceremonial purposes. No tribe member would ever force anyone to take it. And they certainly wouldn’t murder anyone with it.”
“Got it.” They shook hands.
After they parted ways, Daemon decided he would make a trip to the hospital. Penny had called and informed him that Danior thought she saw the ghost of Lise before passing out. They needed to consider the possibility that Bianca Santos and Lise Trix were not at all missing or dead, but instead up to something, together.
Chapter Thirty-Three
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C ody was on his back in the bed, eyes closed, snoring softly beneath the ceiling fan. Dinner last night had been nice and what followed had been even better, but now I felt shaken, disturbed that Danior had thought she’d seen Lise. Was there a chance Lise was involved? How well did we know her?
On top of that, the events in the diaries were plaguing me, and I wanted to get an overview on both history and recent events.
What better way than by taking a tour?
And I certainly didn’t have to go alone anymore.
I plopped down next to Cody and swatted him with a tourist brochure. “Sleepyhead, wake up.”
I’d already been up for hours, had breakfast and went for a run.
He forced his eyes open. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and thick with sleep. The sound still gave me butterflies.
“Hey, yourself.” I replied.
“I passed out.”
“Of course, you did.” I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I wore you out with my sexual prowess.”
He smiled. “Not the first time that's happened.”
“Nor the last, if you play your cards right,” I said as I scooted closer and tapped the brochure, “I thought we could take a tour now that you’re here.”
“I thought we could stay naked and nap.”
“I have to find a killer,” I reminded him. “Which means I have to leave the bedroom.”
He sighed. “Can't we just lounge around and relax today?”
“Relax is code for have sex,” I said, flipping through the brochure. “And there will be some of that—if we hurry up and solve this murder.”
“You're using sex as a weapon now.”
I gave him a pointed look and he laughed. “Anyway, I also wanted to say I’m sorry I blew up at you.” I rubbed my hand over his whiskers. I still felt I’d the right to be angry, but not half of it was his fault. And really, when had going ballistic ever solved a problem? Well, okay sometimes it made me feel good, but that was beside the point. “You are a stand-up man, Lumos, especially since you defended my right to endanger myself.”
Cody laughed, “What can I say? You are a cop at heart, and we stick together. Male… female… bad juju… we don’t tuck tail and run. I’ve known that about you since I met you.”
“Well, alright then. I’m going to go check in with Daemon and then we can go to lunch and figure out which tour we want to check out.”
He opened his mouth to say something else but I cut him off, pointing at one of the pages in the brochure. “Personally, this is the one I’m most interested in: Brewing up History. It’s a ghost tour, and you know, both Lise and Bianca were interested in the island’s ghost tours.”
His lip twitched.
“Plus, they stop at all the bars along the way, so we get to have some fun.”
Cody smiled and mumbled something about not liking the paranormal very much, but he hauled himself out of bed.
It was a little after noon and the sun was directly above us. A soft breeze rustled the trees and the scent of coconut and hibiscus filled the air. I leaned against the railing and inhaled deeply, my senses alive. A deep sense of contentment settling inside of me now that Cody was here. It might be tainted by murder at the moment, but this island was very nice.
A sexy wolf-whistle let me know my date was ready and also told me he appreciated the low-cut Boho dress I’d chosen. “Are we going out for that tour?” Cody asked, holding up a lone silver key that dangled from a keychain shaped like a fish.
“I thought you'd never ask.”
I took his arm as we walked down the steps. He always cleaned up nice. His linen pants were only slightly wrinkled from the travel, and his silver blue button-down shirt brought out the cool tones of his eyes.
The car he rented was a super-fast convertible with leather seats. Just the opposite of the kind of vehicles we drove back home in Bohemian Lake so I was excited, that is until Grandpa Lumos got behind the wheel.
“You could go a little faster,” I suggested, my hand free in the wind.
He pointed to a small wooden sign. “The speed limit, madam.”
I sighed deeply. “You are such a cop.”
“Why, thank you.” He turned to look at me, a big grin on his face.
“Speaking of which, how’d you get away. Who’s covering for you back home?”
“Kaden Bones.”
“Nice. How’s he doing?”
“Good. He spends a lot of time at Caravan Manor when he’s not working but I think he’s respecting the boundaries. He knows Mallory’s dating Wraith, even if he despises it.”
I chuckled. “Oh, to be Mallory.”
“Hey!”
“I’m just teasing. You know, I can barely handle the relationships I have—you, Dad, Rebel and Eve. I don’t know what I’d do if there were two of you.”
“How about if there were two of Eve?”
“Oh, lord, don’t even kid about that.”
“Actually, I’m surprised she hasn’t materialized yet. She was looking up flights when I left.”
“As if she’d need to book a flight. She’s like ‘Bloody Mary.’ You just have to say her name three times in a mirror and she appears in a cloud of hairspray.”
We made it off the resort’s property and were headed to town when a toy helicopter flew into the road, followed by a tall, gangly kid in a blue T-shirt and camouflage shorts. Cody slammed on the brakes and I braced myself against the dash.
The kid picked up his toy and frowned at us. He was about twelve, with a shaggy bowl cut and a smorgasbord of freckles on his face. “You almost ran over my drone,” he said accusingly.
“You could have crushed it.” He looked at me with pure contempt and I bristled.
“I'm sorry,” I repeated. “I'm glad Cody saw it and was able to stop in time.”
The kid's scowl deepened. “Maybe you should slow down.”
“Maybe you should hang on to your toys,” Cody said, trying to keep his tone light. But I heard the thread of annoyance at the kid's attitude.
“Scottie!” a girl's voice yelled. “What are you doing? It's my turn!”
Scottie scowled in her direction, then scowled again at us. He was very good at scowling.
“If you'd ran it over, you'd be in trouble. Big trouble.”
Cody was out of the convertible before I could stop him. I knew his trigger-hair temper wasn't an actual threat to anyone but I also knew that he was about to give this kid a good talking to about politeness and respect.
“Listen, kid,” Cody said, walking toward him. “How about—”
“Scottie!” another voice yelled, a man's this time. “Get your butt over here before your sister melts down completely.”
I turned toward the voice. It was the guy I’d seen on the beach the day I arrived. He wasn’t in that weird costume now. Instead, he had on shorts, mirrored sunglasses, and a shirt that barely covered his beer belly. Maybe he wasn’t so solidly built after all, or maybe he’d just been wearing a girdle under his white dress—robe, whatever. I thought about asking but decided that might be considered rude.
Scottie threw one more dirty look in our direction before jogging toward one of the island’s more ostentatious vacation homes.
“Why, I say, sorry about that,” the man said, striding out into the road with the bow-legged gait of a cowboy. He adjusted his sunglasses. “Those puppies aren’t as easy to fly as you think.” He offered his own hand to Cody. “Willie Whitaker.”
Cody shook. “Cody Lumos.” He motioned to me. “This is my girlfriend, Penny Trubble.”
Whitaker turned to me, tipping his giant ten-gallon hat. “A pleasure.” He took a long pull from the red solo cup. “Of course, you will have to watch out for bikes on the roads here, though. The boy is right about that. Gotta obey the speed limit at all times.” He winked at me. “I know how tourists like to put the pedal to the metal.”
The irritation flooded back into Cody's expression. “I’m a police officer,” he said. “I always obey the law. I'm just glad we didn't hit your kid.”
“Well, that woulda been a problem, yessir,” Whitaker said, fiddling with his sunglasses again. He glanced up the road, toward the resort sign. “So, you two are staying up at murder mansion?”
Cody's jaw was set and he didn't seem capable of answering.
I spoke up from the passenger’s seat. “Do you mean the Paranormal Plantation? We’re staying in one of the cabins.”
He wrinkled his nose. “How you likin’ it?”
I thought about the beautiful landscaping and the charming interior. “It's lovely.”
He shrugged. “Sure, if creepie’s your thing, I guess. They do have good crabmeat po’boys in that, there Cabana Room. My oldest girl is always bringing them for us. But for me?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Airbnb is the only way to travel. There's nothing like it. This place isn’t exactly cheap but it’s better than a hotel full of bones,” He chuckled to himself.
“Yes, the bones are a hard sell,” I said, slightly appalled at his comment.
He lifted his sunglasses and stared at me, as if he finally recognized me from that first day on the beach. He really creeped me out. I glanced at Cody. “Well...we should be on our way. We don’t want to miss the tour,” I managed.
“What tour?” Whitaker repositioned his sunglasses. “I can tell you if it’s any good or not.”
“Oh, that's—“ I began.
But he didn't let me finish. He turned back toward the house and let loose an ear-splitting whistle. “Sammy-Jo!”
Sammy-Jo magically appeared on the lawn, wearing a gingham dress that would have made Betty Draper proud.
She frowned at her husband as she made her way toward us, her wedge flip flops making a suction cup slurping noise as she walked. “What is it? I'm reading a book.”
“What book?” her husband asked.
“Does it matter,” she repeated, as if this was something he should be familiar with. Her face lit up with a satisfied smile. “It’s just gettin’ to the good spot.”
“One of them trashy sex novels, I bet. Good for you and good for me too,” he said with a wink. He waved a hand at me and Cody. “These are the folks staying up the road.”
She gave me the once over, as if she was inspecting a dress on a clearance rack, looking for flaws and imperfections. She turned to Cody and suddenly stood straighter, thrusting her chest in his direction. “Well now, aren’t you more delish than my grandmama’s pecan pie.”
“Yeah, yeah. Quit gushin’. They’re just headed to town. What was the name of that ghost tour you liked?”
“Hmm. It reminded me of witches. I think it started with Brewing…I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Sammy-Jo said, nodding. “It was scary though. Nothin’ like a graveyard after dark, right?”
“Sounds like the one,” I said. I motioned to Cody. “We need to get going, though. We're on a case.”
“Oh?” Whitaker's radar went up. He took another long drink from his cup and adjusted his sunglasses again. “What sort of case? Is it to do with the missing girls?”
“Yeah, are you like detectives or something? I heard there was a ghost hunter on the island. Are you ghost hunters?” Sammy-Jo added, folding her arms across her chest.
“We really should be going,” Cody said.
Whitaker raised his chin and thrust out his chest. “Shouldn’t you answer us? What if we know something?”
“Yeah,” Sammy-Jo repeated She patted at her hair. “We are practically locals. We visit twice a year.”
“Right, sure, whatever,” Whitaker said. I couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses but I'm sure he was rolling them.
“Twice a year?” I commented.
Whitaker nodded. “We like the people.” He tapped his temple. “They’re simple but that’s fine with us.”
“What do you mean, simple?” I asked.
His face darkened. “You know, with all them silly superstitions. Be real easy to take advantage of them. They’re always blaming everything on bad juju and such.”
“Is that why you were wearing that white robe when I met you? To take advantage of someone?”
Whitaker’s face went red above his loud, printed shirt. “You accusing me of something, little lady?”
I could feel the steam rolling out of my ears. “Perhaps. You admitting to something.” I retorted. “I’m a private investigator. I’m very good at digging.”
Cody nodded. “She’s very tenacious.”
Whitaker stared at Cody, his mouth set in a thin line. “Really? Well, good luck with that.” He lowered his glasses again.
“Cody, let's go.”
As soon we got back in the car, Cody scratched his head. He remind you of anyone? A cartoon character, maybe?
I laughed, yep. That big blowhard chicken who always got his feathers in a bunch.”
He snapped his fingers and did his best Foghorn Leghorn impression. Then we both chuckled and hurried down to the Rua do Meio.
Once there, we bought tickets for the next tour with Brewing up Haunted History, then we had a bite of dinner and I called Izzy to check in, since we’d agreed that keeping tabs on each other was the safest practice.
After dinner we met on the boardwalk where the guide, Monte, was all dressed up in a historical gothic costume.
I had to tamp down a giggle when he first started talking. I kept picturing Dracula but he was informative and amusing, unfortunately he wasn’t saying anything that spurred any new thoughts.
At the cemetery stop, we were gi
ven another break to grab a drink at the bar and/or a treat at the ice cream shop across the road. Since we’d already hit up three bars, I decided to stay put.
“You want anything, Pen?” Cody asked. “I’m buying.”
“Well then,” Another woman from the tour stepped forward smoothing down her floral dress, “I’m drinking. Lead on.”
We all laughed and I retorted, “No, I’m good, babe. I’m just gonna wander around. You go ahead.”
The tour guide sat down across from me and we chatted. I told him who I was and turned out he knew Yasmin and her family, “Hey, how’s Danior? I saw the article about her in the paper today. The police are asking for help in finding out who attacked her. They seem to think maybe it’s linked to Bianca Santos’s disappearance, and maybe even that dead woman they found on the beach.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I hope they catch whoever it is,” Monte said. “As you can see, business is suffering.”
There weren’t as many people on the tour as I had have expected. As they sat there, a woman came up to Monte.
“There are a couple of broken headstones over there,” she said. “On the other side of the wall. Why did they leave some of the graves outside the wall when they built it?”
“Actually, those graves were intentionally dug beyond the wall. That’s unconsecrated ground, so suicides and criminals can be buried there. It’s also where the priestess witch was supposedly hanged. Some people claim to get all kinds of strange vibes from over there.”
I suddenly jumped down from my seat.
“Hey, what’s up? Where are you going?” he asked.
“Oh, you can go on without me. I need to look into something,” I retorted.
I walked along the wall and found a place where I could get across, then walked over to the copse where the cypress trees seemed to hug one another in the shadows, the dripping moss like extended arms.
I looked at the earth beside the wall on that side.
It was disturbed, as if it had been dug up. I drew out my phone. It didn’t take great pictures, but they might be good enough.
Chapter Thirty-Four
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Murder, Ye Bones Page 11
