Clues in the Sand

by Terry Ambrose

  “Belize. That’s where we met the first time. Dani was an intern on the dig. She showed up expecting to find all these magnificent pottery pieces. I figured it out when she started complaining. She said we were, ‘rooting around in the dirt for stupid salt-making equipment.’ What she didn’t get was the importance of understanding those early practices. Look, if we don’t understand the past, we’re doomed to repeat it.”

  “Please, let’s stick to the question.”

  “There were only a few women on the dig. We ended up bunking together.” Flynn paused and chuckled. “Fun times. We were in the middle of the jungle with no facilities, lots of bugs, and a million miles from all this.”

  “How long did you work with her?”

  “Not long. She stayed for about two months and then left. Toward the end, she was complaining a lot about everything. It was obvious she hated it. Everything I liked she couldn’t stand. She was the one who wanted the fame and glory, but she didn’t want to do the work. She could have been a good advocate for us. But Dani wanted a fast payoff. That’s always the bottom line, isn’t it? Money. It’s all about the money.”

  “So she left on her own?”

  “Nobody ever knew whether she left voluntarily or because she got fired. But for an archaeologist, she committed the ultimate sin. She wanted to create a black market for artifacts.”

  CHAPTER 25

  ALEX

  July 21

  Hey Journal,

  I’m totally stressed! I haven’t had time to check out Michelle Steele. Robbie’s dad showed up and Robbie had to leave. We never tested his cell in the dumbwaiter. I don’t wanna go downstairs cause everything is messed up. Daddy always said being a writer for a newspaper in New York was a job and a half. Well, I’ve totally had a day and a half and it’s only the middle of the afternoon!

  Marquetta’s downstairs finishing up. She’ll be going home soon and I don’t know what to say to her if she asks what me and Robbie did today. She told me she lived here when she was younger than me. With that broken mirror me and Robbie found, I’m wondering if it might’ve been her furniture. I’m confused by the whole thing. Should I break my promise to Marquetta and ask Daddy what to do? I know Marquetta got really angry with him when he was asking questions about her past, and now I’ve done the same thing.

  And what about Mr. de la Guerra? He told me he had two big jobs, so I looked him up on Facebook. I figured he would have all kinds of cool stuff about Spain and what it looks like on his page. What’s weird is his profile says he lives in Brooklyn! He’s not far from where we lived before.

  His page doesn’t say anything about working for the King of Spain. Plus, he doesn’t have any links to stories he’s written. What kind of writer doesn’t tell everybody about what they wrote? I’d ask Daddy about it, but he’d tell me I’m spying, and then I’d be in trouble and I’d get grounded again.

  Sorry, Journal, but I can’t stop thinking about Marquetta and the attic. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t have said something about the broken mirror. Could she be the one who broke it? I know her dad died when she was my age, but that was after she lived here. That’s what I thought, anyway. It’s super confusing.

  I gotta figure this out. I don’t know how yet, but the answer’s gotta be in the attic. I’m going back there before Mr. Van Horn puts a new lock on the door. The answer must be in one of those boxes of old photos.

  Bye for now,

  Alex

  CHAPTER 26

  RICK

  Rick reached across the white granite island and filled Marquetta’s wine glass. She sat on the barstool cater-corner to his, her apron discarded for the day. They had the windows open, and a gentle breeze filtered into the kitchen. Rick held up his glass, sniffed the aroma of the chardonnay, then chuckled as he gazed at Marquetta. “So Marcus really peed on the floor?”

  “Right in the lobby.” She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand. “I’ve never seen a little boy so scared in my life. He was trying to sneak up on the Washingtons. I saw what he was doing, got behind him, and grabbed him by the waist.” She winced. “He freaked out. Poor kid.”

  “I’ll bet his parents weren’t happy when they found out.”

  Marquetta winked at Rick. “Actually, they were delighted I wasn’t going to charge them to clean the floor. I think they’ll be paying much more attention to where Marcus might be—at least for the rest of their stay.”

  “Thank goodness they’ll be leaving tomorrow. We don’t need him giving a guest a heart attack. So, what do you think of the chardonnay? It was a recommendation from your wine dealer friend.”

  “John knows his stuff.” She lifted her glass by the stem, swirled it to inspect the wine’s clarity, then inhaled the aroma. “It’s amazing. It would be terrific if we could get this for the wine tastings.”

  “He said this winery was still trying to gain traction, so all we have to do is provide their marketing information to our guests and they’ll sell us the wine at cost.”

  Marquetta closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma again. Rick’s pulse quickened as he watched her. Not only did he want her opinion on this decision, but he also wanted her to realize how important that opinion was to him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “It’s a little expensive, but we should go for it.”

  “Excellent.” He raised his glass. “To a bright future.”

  They clinked glasses, and Rick leaned back on his stool. “This is nice, being able to spend a few minutes not working.”

  “Or worrying about who killed whom.” She set her glass on the counter and leaned forward. Her gray eyes sparkled in the daylight reflecting around the room. “What made you decide to go see John?”

  “It was something you said a couple of weeks ago. You mentioned how we could use a better variety of wines to make the tastings more interesting. You said it would be a way to encourage people to stick around in the afternoons.”

  “Aren’t you a good listener?”

  “I try.”

  Marquetta gazed at Rick for a moment, then smiled and picked up her glass. “While you were being industrious, did you go see Jordan, too?” She raised the glass to her lips as she waited.

  “Yes, I did. Beth asked me to tell you Jordan’s wife had a baby.”

  “Boy or girl?” Her eyes lit up as she watched him expectantly.

  Rick winced and hung his head. He hadn’t even thought to ask—so big-city. “Someday I’ll adjust to this everybody-is-friends kind of atmosphere—I hope.”

  Marquetta snickered and shook her head. “You’ll get there, maybe. In the meantime, I’ll call Beth about the baby. I’m glad you got an appointment with Jordan.”

  “Actually, I walked in off the street. I came out of Francine’s store and saw Reese Potok. She was going somewhere in a hurry, so I followed her. When I got to the street corner, she’d disappeared. I assumed she went into Thorne Waldorf’s office. I saw Jordan’s sign across the street and took a chance. Beth said Jordan wasn’t coming in. He was, as she put it, a basket case.”

  “They’ve been trying for a long time. How’s Beth? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “She seemed to be fine. From the looks of it, she has quite the view of Thorne Waldorf’s office, which is how she knew Reese goes in there a few times a week.”

  “I told you Thorne was unscrupulous.”

  “Smarmy is what you called him.”

  “You do pay attention, don’t you? I’ll have to watch what I say from now on.”

  Rick held Marquetta’s gaze. Hers was unflinching; his, filled with anticipation. How did he tell her he paid attention to every little detail when it came to her? Too soon. It was way too soon for a comment like that. Way too stalker-like.

  He reached for his glass, sipped, and savored the chardonnay. Marquetta glanced toward the butler door, and Rick only had to wonder for a moment who had intruded on their moment.

  “Hey, Sweetie, you can join us.” Marquetta held
out her arm and Alex came to her.

  “You guys are having a glass of wine together?”

  Rick detected the hint of hopefulness in his daughter’s voice. “We’re sampling for an addition to the wine tasting selections. Would you like to try a little sip?”

  “Okay!” Alex reached out and took the stemmed glass.

  Rick watched as Marquetta showed Alex how to hold the glass and sniff. Alex seemed unimpressed. And when she took a sip, Alex’s face screwed up and she stuck out her tongue. “Yuck!”

  “Why don’t you give Marquetta her glass back?” Rick said.

  Still looking like she’d tasted something nasty, Alex pushed the glass away. “You like that stuff? It’s awful.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing for now,” Rick said. “How come you locked yourself away in your room? You must have been working on something very important.”

  “I was writing in my journal.” Alex looked at Marquetta. “I enjoy it. A lot.” She turned suddenly very serious. “You were right about Mr. de la Guerra. He doesn’t seem to like Facebook at all.”

  “Why’s that, Sweetie?” Marquetta turned to face Rick and continued. “She was talking to him earlier, and he ran off when Alex asked him about his Facebook account.”

  “Why would you ask him about Facebook, kiddo?”

  “I thought it would be fun to have a friend in Spain. I wanted to see if he had photos of a bullfight or something cool like that. But he’s from Brooklyn.”

  “What?” Rick narrowed his gaze as he studied Alex’s face. Now what was she up to? “Alex, it’s not a good idea for you to send friend requests to grown men.”

  Alex seemed to think for a moment, then said, “All I did was look at his profile. And he didn’t have any pictures of Spain! And it says he works for some offshore salvage company. Isn’t that what Miss Potok does?”

  “Yes, but his employment is not our concern.” Rick sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” Short of taking away her computer and her phone and putting her under twenty-four hour surveillance, he wasn’t sure.

  “But Daddy, he doesn’t do any of that stuff he said he did.”

  “Alex, he paid his bill in advance. That is the extent of our interest in his financial dealings.”

  “But how’s he work two jobs? You always said yours kept you super busy.”

  “It did. And there were times it pulled me away from you. How he does it, I have no idea.” Rick frowned at Alex. “He works for an offshore salvage company?” He stopped, shook his head, and tried to retract his question. “No. Forget I said that.”

  “I can show you his page.”

  “No, Alex. This is none of our business. I don’t want you trying to help with this investigation. You’re not, are you?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Alex?” He leaned over her and stared into her eyes.

  “Maybe…just a little.”

  “What I need is to keep you safe. I don’t want you sticking your nose into this. Got it?”

  Alex rolled her eyes and heaved a melodramatic sigh. “I can’t help at all? Not even a little bit?”

  “Do I need to ground you again?”

  “No. I didn’t do anything bad, Daddy. I promise.”

  “You can’t cloister her away,” Marquetta said. “She’s inquisitive.” She leaned toward Alex. “Sweetie, your dad gets worried about how trusting you are.” Marquetta paused and studied Alex’s face. “Were you investigating the murder when you were talking to Mr. de la Guerra?”

  “Will I get grounded again?”

  Taking in a deep breath, Rick sensed that he had to accept one thing about his daughter—little intimidated her. He bit his upper lip and forced himself to accept what he couldn’t change. “Not if you tell us the truth.”

  Alex looked at Marquetta, who shot a quick glance at Rick.

  “We just want you to tell us the truth,” Marquetta said. “You won’t get grounded.”

  “I don’t think Miss O’Connor killed that lady. It had to be Mr. de la Guerra ‘cause he’s a spy and I can prove it!”

  CHAPTER 27

  RICK

  Why hadn’t he seen this coming? His daughter was just like Michelle Steele. Too. Much. Imagination.

  “Really, Alex? A spy? Let’s not get carried away. And I thought we resolved the issue of you snooping around Mr. de la Guerra’s business.”

  Marquetta gave Rick a mock glare, and he got the message. Ask questions, don’t judge. Yet.

  “Okay, tell me why you think Mr. de la Guerra is a spy,” he said.

  “He lied about working for that prime minister in Spain. He also said he was a writer, but he doesn’t have any links to stories he wrote.”

  “Alex, just because Mr. de la Guerra might have…inflated the importance of his work does not mean he’s a killer. Or a spy. You cannot be making accusations like that without proof. All you have are a few inconsistencies in his story.”

  “What about his job?” Alex asked.

  Marquetta pulled Alex close and hugged her. “I know you want Mr. de la Guerra to be a spy, but a real spy would have a better cover, don’t you think?”

  “I guess.” Alex leaned her head against Marquetta’s shoulder and gazed up at Rick. “So I’m wrong about Mr. de la Guerra?”

  Rick nodded. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

  Alex’s lower lip gradually pushed out into a pout as she thought about what he’d said. Marquetta seemed understanding enough but for Rick it was one of those parenting moments when he wanted to lessen the pain, even if only a little.

  “Look, you’ve raised some good questions about the man. I’ll be sure to keep his little subterfuge in mind as we try to figure this out.”

  “Sweetie, I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for Mr. de la Guerra to be acting the way he does. Your dad just has to figure it out. That’s all.”

  Alex huffed and said, “Okay.”

  Rick didn’t mention that Alex’s questions about de la Guerra had him rethinking Flynn’s background, too. He excused himself and went in search of Reese Potok. It was time to get her side of this story.

  As it turned out, he didn’t have to go far to find Reese. She was in the dining room sitting at a small table in front of the window overlooking the garden. Outside, red and white blossoms swayed in the breeze. Fresh air drifted through the open window and she seemed lost in thought. It was one of the few times he’d seen her anything other than guarded.

  “Reese? Can I interrupt you for a moment? I have a few questions about Miss O’Connor.”

  She shrugged and indicated the chair opposite hers. He sat and thanked her for allowing the interruption.

  “You want to ask me questions about Flynn? Okay, sure. What would you like to know?”

  “Do you think she knew Dani Collins more than casually?”

  “Being direct today, aren’t you?” Reese chuckled, then pulled her laptop toward her. She tapped on the keyboard, smiled to herself, then turned the screen so Rick could see it. “Would you like a copy?”

  On the screen was a photo of Flynn and Dani Collins. They were both wearing brightly colored sundresses with a tropical print and held up little umbrella drinks. “Are they at a bar?”

  “The photo was taken at the Old Lahaina Luau on Maui four years ago.”

  “How did you come into possession of this photo?”

  “My employer has many resources. Thorough research is integral to their business. You haven’t answered my question. Do you want me to send you a copy? You might want to ask her why she spent a week on Maui with a woman she knew only casually.” She paused. “Just saying.”

  “I hate that phrase.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why do you hate Flynn so much?”

  “I don’t hate her at all. I have a job to do and she’s getting in the way.”

  “What job?”

  “You’ll find out. In due time. Would you like a copy of the photo or not? I have other things I need to do.”
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  “Yes. Send me a copy. I will ask her about it.” Rick stood and his phone pinged. He looked at the screen. It was her message.

  She winked at him. “I have you on the proverbial speed dial.”

  Rick’s neck muscles tightened as he opened the message and inspected the photo. So Flynn’s connection to Dani Collins was more than what she’d said, but was Reese exaggerating or telling the truth? Just saying? Total BS. Reese was doing what she always did, pressing hot buttons to manipulate people. “Thanks,” he said as he walked away.

  He checked the lobby, then the back patios. There was no sign of Flynn. He went up to the Mainsail Room expecting to strike out even as he hoped she’d be there. In the time since Flynn had arrived, she’d seldom spent much time in her room. When he knocked, he heard a shuffling inside, then the doorknob turned. Flynn opened the door. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks stained with mascara tracks.

  “Miss O’Connor, I wanted to ask you a question about Mr. de la Guerra. Do you have a moment?”

  She sniffled and shrugged. “What about him?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “No.” She shook her head, then paused and scrunched up her face. “Should I?”

  “Possibly not, but Alex looked at his Facebook profile and discovered he works for an offshore salvage company.”

  There was a long moment of silence as Flynn’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Anything else?”

  “I’m afraid I need to ask you a few more questions about Dani Collins.”

  She didn’t answer, but turned and walked back inside. With a casual gesture, she indicated he should sit at the desk chair. She closed the door and sat on the bed with one leg crossed under her and the other dangling over the edge. There was a wadded-up tissue in her hand, which she used to dab at her cheeks. “Well? What would you like to know?”

  Rick pulled out his phone and brought up the photo. When he showed it to her, she took the phone from his hand and sat gazing at the image with a fleeting smile.

  “Have you seen this photo before?” Rick asked.