“Me too,” Alex said.
“What are you ladies having today?” the bartender asked from across the bar.
“Three mango margaritas, please,” Alex told the bartender.
Britney finally put her phone down but was still obviously distracted.
“Everything okay?” Maggie asked again.
“Of course.” Britney shrugged. “Just needed to text my dad.”
When the drinks arrived the orangey concoction in each of the three glasses threatened to spill over. The bartender had filled them so close to the brim each of the three ladies had to lean over to sip directly from her oversized glass. It was a few minutes before they could safely pick up the glasses to make a toast.
Chapter 4
Mimosas
The first round of golfers was heading out from the starter booth in front of the Water’s Edge course. Of the two courses the club offered residents, the three women preferred the Tree Line course: Britney used Louis Vuitton golf balls, which were not cheap. The retrieval rate for balls that went astray was higher in the woods than from the water.
The three women had gathered at the driving range. Alexandra sported dark sunglasses that covered half her face; she had probably chosen them as a result of the many margaritas she had consumed the previous evening. Maggie wore her hair pulled back; it was covered with a hat. She hadn’t even bothered putting makeup on. Then there was Britney. She looked like she had just walked out of the pages of Golf Digest. She wore a sleeveless baby blue golf shirt, a matching skirt, and white knee socks. Her hair hung in long thick braids on either side of her head.
“How can she look so refreshed?” Maggie asked Alex.
“Youth,” Alex said.
Britney laughed at the women. They were obviously suffering. “I have a remedy for what ails you,” she said. She smiled and walked to the back of her golf cart.
Britney’s golf cart was amazing. That was the only word for it. Even while remaining faithful to all the club restrictions, she had utilized her creative talents to modify the club car into something straight out of a James Bond film. It was a bright winter white, like all the other carts in the club, but she had added special large tires with flat black aluminum wheels that probably cost more than the cart itself. She had bright blue faux-ostrich-skin covered seats with a matching rain guard fashioned after the furnishings in the hotel lobby she had recently designed in Dubai. But the ultimate modification was located directly behind the passenger seat where she had installed a refrigerated bar stocked with a variety of mini bottles. The bar was circular in design, and it took up most of the space in the back. There was just enough room behind the driver’s seat for her clubs.
She pushed a lever, releasing the top section of the bar and exposing a bucket of ice with a nice bottle of champagne and plenty of orange juice for their Saturday morning golf game. She pulled out the bottle and removed the screen around the top before wrapping her golf towel around the entire neck of the bottle, releasing the cork with a muffled pop!
“Mimosas,” she said, smiling wide. She poured three glasses until they were almost filled with the prosecco and a top off of orange juice—just enough for color.
Alexandra held up her thick plastic champagne flute. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” the other two said in unison, tapping all three glasses together.
They heard the starter call on the club’s intercom just as they finished their first glass, and they headed across to the course.
The first hole was miserable for Maggie and Britney. As usual. Maggie completely missed the ball on her first try teeing off, and Britney topped her tee shot, sending her ball maybe fifty yards down the fairway. However, Alexandra was her normal consistent self: she smacked that small white ball perfectly straight, approximately one hundred yards, using her 1-wood.
The three ladies climbed into their golf carts and rode down to their balls. First up: Britney. She hit her ball. It again maybe traveled another fifty yards.
“Slow down, girls,” Alex said. “Sing ‘Moon River.’ ”
“ ‘Moon River’?” Britney said.
“Moon on the back swing,” she said, demonstrating without a ball in front of her. “River as you swing forward.”
Maggie took a 5-hybrid out of her bag and lined up in front of her ball.
“Mooooon…riiiiiver…” she sang as she swung the club. But she completely missed the ball.
“Keep your eye on the ball,” Alex said.
“I might need some more aiming fluid.”
Maggie retrieved her empty glass from her cart then ambled over to the back of Britney’s cart for a refill.
By the third hole the alcohol had the desired effect. Maggie and Britney started to hit the ball as they sang moon river with each swing. They had improved their game enough to achieve forward momentum. Meanwhile Alex continued to be on task.
“Let’s just do nine,” Maggie said. “It’s so muggy, and it’s going to rain.” She turned her red face to the dark clouds looming in the distance.
“I agree,” Alex said.
Britney handed her a refill.
The next hole was the best hole they played, but the skies continued to turn dark. The air was thick with moisture. Just when they were about to tee off on Number 5 the lighting siren sang loudly, warning all the golfers to seek shelter. Maggie secretly thanked the heavens for the electrified skies as they all agreed the clubhouse bar was the nearest shelter.
With all three golf carts lined up, they headed down the cart path, when Britney stopped suddenly. Alex came up on one side and Maggie drove up on the other.
“Wait a second,” Britney said, pointing across the course.
“What?” Maggie asked.
“It’s Marco’s house.” She still was pointing at the light brown villa house, the yellow police tape still draped around the back fence. “Let’s go check it out.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Maggie said.
“If anyone says anything we can just say we were taking a shortcut because of the lightning.”
“I’m in,” Alex said.
“Fine, I’ll go—but we are not going in,” Maggie said.
“Park between his house and the one on the left,” Alexandra instructed, pointing to the space between the two houses. “Those people are snowbirds and won’t be back until November.”
Britney led the pack and pulled up as close as she could, utilizing the large bougainvillea bushes as a barrier to avoid being in full view of the street. Alex pulled in directly behind her, and Maggie came third in line.
“We’ll just look through the windows—but don’t touch anything,” Maggie said, “we don’t want our fingerprints found at a crime scene.”
Britney led the girls through the back gate. The sky had gone almost completely black, and thunder rumbled in the background. All three women drew their faces close to the glass sliding doors, trying to see inside, but the lights were out, and the darkness behind them hid any object that was even close.
“I can see the blood,” Britney said.
“Where?” Alex asked, moving closer to Britney.
“Right there.” Britney pointed to a dark spot on the tile.
“I can’t believe they haven’t cleaned it up,” Maggie said.
“They never do,” Alex said. “It’s up to the homeowner.”
“How would you know that?” Britney asked her.
“A friend of mine was accidentally shot in the head. He was screwing around with his gun, pretending to shoot himself. He didn’t realize there was a bullet in the chamber. He actually shot himself in the head. Brain and bone blew all over the room. My friend and her sister had to clean it up. She was picking up small chards of bone for months.”
Britney stared at Alex. “Why didn’t she hire someone to clean it up?”
“I don’t think she could afford it. That was the days we were young and poor.”
“You were poor?” Maggie asked Alex.
> “And young.” She smiled.
Britney used her golf towel and tried the door, but it was locked. The house was the exact same layout as her own, so she knew the side slider was the entrance to Marco’s bedroom. She decided to try it…and fortunately it was not locked.
“Hey,” she whispered loudly, “this door is unlocked!”
“We are definitely not going in there,” Alex said.
“Oh, hell yeah, we are,” Britney said. She disappeared into the dark house.
“Just don’t touch anything,” Maggie called. She looked around, hoping none of the neighbors was paying attention.
A flash of lightning followed by a loud crash of thunder made them all jump.
“I wonder if Marco’s ghost lives here?” Britney asked.
“His house is a mess,” Maggie said. “He must not have had a housekeeper.”
Britney found the kitchen light and switched it on. Maggie looked cautiously around the room and recognized the coffee table that used to be in her house. It was a large square glass table supported by four granite posts. She had bought her house fully furnished, and the style of the previous owners’ furniture didn’t match hers; so she had given away most everything that was originally there. Marco was a godsend: he agreed to take everything, and he even sent a crew to pick it all up. She had even tried to tip them, but they wouldn’t accept one dime.
Maggie was careful not to touch anything as she walked through the kitchen. She watched as Britney thumbed through what looked like a pile of mail on Marco’s desk. She was just about to remind Britney not to touch anything when she noticed a bottle of wine with two glasses sitting near the sink.
“It looked like Marco was expecting company,” she said aloud, but the other two were busy looking around and didn’t respond.
Maggie used the golf towel she still had in her hand to turn the wine so she could see the label. A 2016 Château Mouton Rothschild wine. Two glasses. It was a very expensive bottle of wine…so it must have been a very special person. Maggie might drink house wine, but she did know about wine. That particular bottle was not to share with Rodney. Marco must have been expecting a more important guest. Rodney wouldn’t know a Château Mouton from a Manischewitz.
“You finding anything in there?” Alexandra was still standing near the door.
“It looks like he was past due on all of his bills,” Britney said. Maggie noticed Britney looking through a small notebook but didn’t notice her putting it back as she continued to riffle through the papers. “Here’s his club statement,” she said as she ripped it open.
“What are you doing?” Maggie asked.
“Oh my.” Britney held the statement as if they all could read it in the dark room.
“What?” Alexandra said, taking a few steps toward Britney.
The three women were leaning in to look at the statement when the front door flew open. They jumped back, and Britney dropped the statement.
“Hands up!” a loud voice yelled.
Detective Marker and a young deputy advanced slowly, their guns drawn, pointed at the three women. “What the hell are you doing in here?” Detective Marker asked.
“Don’t shoot.” Britney kept her arms high in the air. “It’s just us girls.”
“We’re not going to shoot you…but we should arrest you,” Detective Marker said as he slowly holstered his weapon. The deputy behind him followed his supervisor’s lead. He was young, and his gaze was solely focused on Britney.
“What did we do?” Britney asked. Noting the deputy’s gaze, she batted her huge brown eyes for effect.
“Breaking and entering is a good start, or how about contaminating a crime scene?”
Detective Marker leaned down and picked up the statement that Britney had dropped. He looked at it then handed it back to the deputy, who put it in a plastic bag then wrote on it with a Sharpie he retrieved from his pocket.
Maggie spoke up in their defense. “We were just curious.”
“I guess you never heard of the cat?”
“Guess not,” Britney said and then whispered to Alex: “The cat?”
“Britney!” Alex said softly. “Stop.”
“You better listen to your friend over there,” Detective Marker said, jerking his head toward Alex. “You ladies are in a lot of trouble. I should be arresting all three of you, but honestly, the paperwork isn’t worth it, because I don’t actually believe you had anything to do with this…but I am going to warn you. If I catch even the slightest hint that you are near this house again I will arrest you, no question. As a matter of fact, I’ll do it on a Friday night after all the judges go home so you’ll be locked up until Monday morning. I’m sure they don’t have happy hour in the county jail.”
The girls didn’t say a thing. Instead, they followed him out the front door as the deputy stayed behind to lock the back slider. He checked every other window and door as well to make sure everything was secure.
“We are really sorry, Detective,” Maggie said.
“You should be,” he said. “Now, stay out of trouble.”
They all nodded then climbed into their golf carts. When they were safely around the corner, out of the detective’s sight, they pulled up next to each other.
“That was intense,” Maggie said.
“I’m just glad he didn’t arrest us,” Alex replied.
“Come on, ladies, haven’t you heard of night court?” Britney said. “We would be out before midnight.” She laughed then took off at high speed. There was no way their carts could catch up with hers; so Alex and Maggie drove side by side, toward the clubhouse bar; but the rain increased in intensity. Soon it was falling too heavily for the two ladies to continue. So they decided to park their carts in the nearest shelter, which happened to be the cart barn. They drove under cover just as the parking lot became a lake.
“You just made it,” José said as he handed the two women several towels to dry themselves with. He used a few extra towels to wipe down their carts.
Alex dried her face with the towel José had just given her. “You don’t mind if we wait it out here, do you?”
“Of course you can,” José said.
“I wonder where Britney went?” Alex asked Maggie.
Maggie pulled out her phone from her back pocket and texted Britney.
Maggie: Where are you?
Britney: Rodney’s
Maggie: Why?
Britney: His garage was open when the rain came.
Maggie: So, what are you doing now?
Britney: Drinking wine.
Maggie: Since you’re there, find out everything you can about what happened at Marco’s.
Britney: I’m on it.
“Where is she?” Alexandra asked.
“Rodney’s.”
“Why?” Alexandra said, scrunching up her nose.
“First open garage.”
Alex shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”
José was still busy toweling off the golf carts and releasing the rain guards so Alex and Maggie could drive off when the rain let up.
“Did you hear about Marco?” Maggie asked José.
“Oh, yes,” José said. He stopped his activity to face the two women. “Very sad….He was a very nice guy and always a good tipper.”
“He was a great guy,” Alex said, letting José know they were all on the same side.
José finished zipping the last section on Alexandra’s cart when he pointed to a cart in the corner. “I’m not sure what we should do with his cart,” he said.
“That’s his cart?” Maggie’s interest was piqued.
José nodded. “We installed new tires last week but now I don’t know what to do.”
Maggie looked out at the rain, which showed no sign of slowing down.
“Do you have any coffee?”
“No,” José said, “but I can make some.”
“That would be great,” Maggie said, “if you wouldn’t mind…”
“I think we’re st
uck here for a while,” Alex said.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Jose disappeared into his office. As soon as they figured he was busy, both women quietly went over to Marco’s golf cart. The front storage compartment was full of typical golfer’s gear: a cigar clipper, glove, sunglasses, a few random tees and some well-used balls that looked like he fished out of the lake’s edge.
“Look in his bag,” Maggie whispered.
Alexandra unzipped and rezipped pockets until she slipped her hand into the long pocket on the side. She pulled out a piece of paper just as José stepped out of the office holding two cups of coffee. Maggie stood in front of Alexandra as she put the folded paper into her pocket.
“These are nice tires,” Alexandra said. “Do you think it’s time for mine to be replaced?”
José looked over at Alex’s cart. “No,” he said handing the two women their cups, “you have lots of time.”
“Okay, good,” she said “But I want bigger wheels next time.”
“You’re a cool lady,” José said, smiling.
The two women sat on the wooden bench, the only seating available in the cart barn, and silently drank their coffee. Both were so eager to look at the paper Alexandra had found, hoping it was a valuable clue. But José kept a pretty close eye on the two as he kept himself busy moving carts around, organizing shelves, and sweeping the floor. There was no opportunity to pull the paper out without him noticing.
“More coffee?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” Maggie said.
“Would you mind if we leave our carts here and go to the locker room?” Alexandra asked.
“Not at all,” Jose said. “If the rain stops, I will pull them around.”
“Perfect,” Maggie said.
Holding towels over their heads, the two women ran the short distance from the cart barn to the ladies’ locker room. They looked down the banks of lockers, making sure they were alone, then sat on the bench in the center. Alexandra pulled the paper from her pocket, unfolded it, and set it on the bench between them.
Behind The Gates (A Maggie McFarlin Mystery Book 1) Page 4
