But Dominick had killed himself before anyone else could. Around the same time, Silas had gone to jail for another charge but escaped and had been on the run ever since. Elliott's computer from his apartment and laptop were missing. Lots of questions and clues popped up but no obvious answers. I hated crossword puzzles for this reason.
What was a three-letter word for lawn enhancement? I didn't know, and I didn't care, but I thought it was sod. I hadn't solved the other clues, so I couldn't check my answer.
"Did they review the cameras at the airport for Silas?" I asked, trying to pinpoint his time of arrival.
"Do you know how many bald overweight men vacation in Hawaii? We have no idea where Silas would have booked a flight. Plus, he may have worn a disguise since the Feds were looking for him," Liam said as he rubbed his chin.
We took a break for an early dinner and headed over to Ellen's house.
"Simone, thank goodness you're here. I need a beta reader for my first four chapters," Ellen said as she handed me a bundle of papers and a red pen. "Don't hold back the criticism. Be brutal."
I sat and skimmed the first few pages. My fingernails blushed by the time I had finished. I'd never look at a serving platter and a gravy boat the same way again.
"Gran, we come in search of food, not debauchery," Liam said after he kissed her cheek.
"Youth is wasted on you both. I planned to order in, and you may join me. Where do we stand with the murder of Elliott Smythe-Wilkes?" she asked as she opened a drawer.
"Lots of information but no killer yet," he said as she handed him a stack of takeout menus.
"It's got to be there somewhere. I'd love to help. A fresh set of eyes and all."
"We're good for now," he said as she frowned.
"I'm thinking pizza. They have the most adorable delivery boys at the place down the street," she said.
"No, the last time you practically flashed one, and he called the police," Liam said.
"I dropped my purse, leaned over to pick it up, and he screamed. You'd think he'd never seen a breast before. Seriously, don't they teach anatomy in school?" she asked with a huff.
"Not in real time," Liam said as he handed the menus to me.
I laughed out loud and got stern looks from both of them. I tried to melt into the couch as I sorted through the food options. They debated and decided on pizza, but Liam would pick it up. After he left, I set the table while Ellen mixed the cocktails.
"What do you think of Liam?" she asked with a bit of a matchmaker's twinkle in her eye.
I was way ahead of her on that score. I had considered it and dismissed it. We had met under horrible circumstances, and it would override our relationship. Plus, he attracted women, and that put too much pressure on me to be body beautiful. I intended to eat my way to my fifties as nature had preordained. These hips weren't getting any thinner for some guy. Also, I'd had my fill of secrets.
"Ellen, Liam and I are worlds and life experiences apart. We don't have anything in common."
"Bollocks. If we were all the same, life would be bloody boring. Find a few things to talk about, and go from there," she said as Liam stepped into the kitchen.
"Gran goes all Union Jack when she gets excited. What did you say to her?" Liam asked as he set the pizza box on the counter.
"She's not interested in you because of your differences," Ellen said after a healthy swallow of the amber-colored liquid in her glass.
"I'm a man, and she's a woman. I thought that fact worked in our favor," Liam said as he winked at me.
"She thinks this death fiasco interferes with amour," Ellen said as she opened the pizza box.
"That's a sane reaction," Liam said as he filled his plate.
"But love is dramatic and spontaneous," she said as she grabbed my hand and spun me around.
"For some people, but for others, it's quiet and private," he said as he handed me a plate.
Ellen took another sip of her drink and muttered something about her lack of great-grandchildren under her breath. We sat and ate our pizza. Liam acknowledged to her that we were working on a project for the police.
"I'm the best secret keeper. Ask anyone," Ellen said as she placed her hand on her heart.
"I thought your memoir exposed your life and loves," I said.
"Oh them. The juicy stuff I'll take to the grave. It's too graphic for the masses."
"I was afraid of that," Liam said as he stood and cleared the table. "We need to get back to it. I promise to let you read some grisly details when the case is solved."
"I have a witness if you change your mind," she said as she accepted his peck on the cheek.
Liam looked at me, signaling that I'd be advised to take the Fifth.
We took our leave and strolled back to Liam's house. My mind let all the information float around and settle.
The story got sadder and more confusing every hour. Martha was the wild card. How did she fit into Elliott's life? George and Deborah would never financially support a son-in-law, unless Martha was pregnant. A hasty shotgun wedding would be in order at an oh-so-fashionable Washington DC venue. Martha decked out in white and padded accordingly to hide her delicate condition. Elliott impeccably dressed in a tuxedo and chewing his fingernails to the bone. A quick Niagara Falls honeymoon, a nothing job for Elliott at George's think tank, and everyone pretending to be a happy family for a year. After the baby's first birthday, Elliott would receive a divorce settlement and agree to disappear from his child's life.
"You're welcome to take a rest from the investigation," Liam said.
"I want to know, and I don't want to know."
"Uncovering secrets begets more secrets," Liam said.
"Is this what you did in the navy?"
"Not death investigations, but I followed a few money trails."
An awkward silence followed because he offered no further details.
"Do you still have Elliott's phone?" I asked.
"I turned it over to the police."
"Did Detective Ray ask how you got it?"
"No," Liam said with a smile. "The texts from Allie Girl are pretty tame. She scolds him for not paying more attention to her. I have a transcript."
"I'd like to read it," I said as I sat at the table.
"I sent you the file," he said as he joined me.
I logged onto my computer and started reading the lovers' exchange. More like a mom nagging a wayward child.
Call me. You didn't return my text. Check your email. When will you be here? Don't forget the money.
What money? Was Martha in on the scam? Did Martha handle the drug money? She could travel under the radar and past security. She'd be perfect. Had Elliott tried to recruit me, but I'd been too dense to notice?
I closed my eyes, trying to rebuild every conversation we'd had and search for a double meaning. Nothing registered as I opened my eyes and read more texts.
"Simone, I don't think you were part of the plan," Liam said as he watched me. "I think Elliott had planned to stage another death here but fell in love with you instead."
"Ditching me in DC and the somersault into the pool was on purpose?"
"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had known about Timmy Lawler and Martha's fear of water. Maybe he'd stayed in long enough to scare her and then dragged himself out of the pool. A bit groggy, he'd landed on a deck chair. What happened after that is the million-dollar question."
"Do you think he misjudged the fall and whacked his head too hard?"
"Possibly. George Lawler interests me, and Deborah was here very quickly," he said as sat back in his chair.
"I got an email from work saying Deborah had canceled her official schedule to visit a sick friend in Boise, Idaho."
"Martha hates Deborah, so she wouldn't have called her for help," Liam said, pursing his lips.
He had a beautiful mouth. His lips plumped in the middle so that his kissing centered on my… Where was I? Giving measured insight to the case.
"I didn
't know Deborah had any friends," I said, not to be insulting, just the facts.
"Deborah does come across as an ice-cold bitch."
"It's true. Deborah has a focus group dedicated to making her seem caring and semi-human."
The fifth one searched and they still couldn't find any warmth or cheer in her personality.
"I'm sure it's money well spent," Liam said with a smile.
"She's dyed her hair, capped her teeth, and plumped up her cheeks. I found a before photo in an old file a while ago. I took a picture of it," I said as I pulled up my camera file.
"I bet she was a looker," Liam said as I turned my screen toward him.
He pulled my laptop closer to him and stared at the image for a long time.
"Do you know what year the photograph was taken?" he asked as he clicked on it and began to type.
"No. When I went back to the file to check for more information, the picture was gone."
Liam smelled so good, like musky, buttery sugar melted over a piping hot…
"Didn't you say your friend's father knew Deborah?" he asked as he searched through another website.
"Not a close acquaintance, just business. He runs a temporary staffing firm. Deborah's team has used it a few times."
Speaking of Lizzie, my phone signaled an incoming text from her. Queen Diva chimed three times.
"Lizzie believes she is both queen of all and a diva," I said as I checked my phone.
"Reasonable assumptions, I'm sure," Liam said as he read through Deborah's official biography on her website.
I'm a wimp. Your mom knows you're in Kauai. Sorry.
"I'm in trouble now," I said as I laid my phone on the table. "My mom may be on her way here. Lizzie folded under the Bel treatment."
"I'm sure your mother can be very persuasive on a feeble mind."
"Lizzie's a kick ass attorney—she doesn't bend. Never underestimate Bel Ryan. She'd have you chirping state secrets in a heartbeat."
"I look forward to meeting her."
"She'd chop you down to size and wear what's left as a hat. The only man my mother could tolerate, she married."
"I adore her already. I love a formidable opponent," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen. "I need to follow up on a few details with Detective Ray. I'll be back."
He packed up my laptop and gave me a quick kiss.
I knew I was mad at him, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.
I stepped out onto the deck and watched the sun settle low in the sky. Stunning. I could get used to this picture every night. Except for no job, no money, and nowhere to live, Kauai was perfect for me. My phone rang, and I answered the woman who'd betrayed me.
"Did she use a flamethrower on you, making you confess?" I asked Lizzie.
"No. She was upset because she hadn't heard from you. You made your mother cry."
"I did?" I was a horrible, ungrateful child.
"Yes. It scared and subdued me at the same time. Anyway, it might be fun to get her to let her hair down and relax. Make sure the bar is fully stocked, and hang by the pool. Between the two of you, you'll attract every guy and most of the women too."
"She will. When did you talk to her?"
"Yesterday. One more thing—you got something in the mail from the Office of A. Deborah Niven. It makes her sound like a thing instead of a person. Do you want me to open it?"
"No. It's my resignation letter. I have to sign and return it. Deborah only uses the A for official business.”
"If you feel the urge to sue her for wrongful dismissal, I know a great attorney."
"Do they work for free?"
"I'm sure I could work a reduction of fees into the conversation."
"Let me think about it."
"Back to the serious news, I drove by Elliott's townhome, and I think he got evicted," Lizzie said. "Piles of furniture and clothes are on the curb. There's a sticker on the door too."
"When it rains, it hurricanes. I don't know of anyone to call to claim his body or belongings."
"This is not your problem. Hurry home. I miss you."
"Me too. After my mom grounds me for a few years, I'll buy you a drink or twelve."
"It's a date. Hang in there, babe. Love ya," Lizzie said.
"Thanks for calling. Love you too," I said as I hung up.
I lay down on the couch in the living room and tried to process the demises of Dominick Carroll and Elliott Smythe-Wilkes. I gave up and fell asleep.
Dominick entered the street from a darkened alley. He walked to the corner and back. All clear as he dragged a body out from behind a dumpster. I made out a mustache and beard on the battered face. Elliott stuffed something in the pants pocket of the dead man and crossed his arms over his chest. The man appeared to be asleep. After he straightened up, Elliott produced a bottle and dripped its contents on the man's face and upper body. With a quick flick of his wrist, Elliott struck a match and dropped it. Flames engulfed the man, and then Elliott snuffed out the fire with a gallon of water tucked away in the alley. He put on gloves and repositioned the man.
The next scene was at the morgue with a body laid out on a cold slab, covered with a sheet. A distraught woman appeared, wiping the tears off her face. The sheet was removed, and the charred remains were revealed. The woman nodded and began to cry harder. A woman in a lab coat escorted her back to the lobby. A man stood and put his hand out to the woman. She batted it away and hurried to the exit. The man caught up with her outside. They kissed, smiled at each other, and then turned and faced me.
The bereaved people were much younger versions of Deborah and Silas.
I woke, screamed, and rolled off the couch.
A. Deborah Niven, aka Alexandra Deborah Niven, aka Rhonda Carroll, was Allie Girl. Elliott had been blackmailing his mom by exposing her past or present or both. Her family's true profession of thievery or Deborah having a child out of wedlock, aka him, or she was mixed up in his money scheme.
I hunted around for my shoes in the dark. What time was it? Was Liam home or at the bakery? I hustled to his room and found his bed empty. I tripped over my shoes by the front door, put them on, and turned on a light. My dead phone sat mocking me on the table. Liam didn't have a landline in the house. I set my phone on the charger and turned off the light.
I sprinted out the door and headed over to the bakery. The lights were ablaze, but Liam's car wasn't there. I opened the door and saw Ellen and Garrett canoodling by the sink. The oven timer was blaring, but they didn't move away from each other. I ran in, grabbed the oven mitts, and pulled out a tray of slightly burnt scones.
"Well done, Simone. I thought I'd scorched another batch," Ellen said as she wiggled out of Garrett's embrace.
"Good morning, fair lady. What brings you here at this hour?" Garrett asked as he began to cut off the bottoms of several blackened scones.
"I was looking for Liam," I said as I flipped the scones onto the wire racks.
"He's been holed up with Detective Ray at the police station. He called me a mere two hours ago and asked me to start rolling the dough," she said as she smiled at Garrett.
Someone please tell me they had scrubbed their hands in between love bites. I hoped the Kauai Health Department didn't show up today. Those citations would be embarrassing, costly, and way too easy to verify.
"I'll head over there," I said.
"I tried to get in to see Liam to ask for further instructions and was turned away," Ellen said with a pout. "It's best to wait for him to emerge from the cave."
I hesitated and then agreed. I had no proof except for my dream. Ellen filled a bag with scones and dismissed me. As I closed the door, I heard Ellen giggle. I was so glad I hadn't volunteered to clean up after their activities, and I didn't mean baking scones.
Drained, I sat in the recliner in Liam's living room and devoured the batch of ruined scones. With plenty of butter and strawberry jelly, they still tasted fine. My phone pinged with an incoming email. I got up and read Liam's message. Martha had g
iven a statement about what had happened. She would have to live with the fact that she could have saved Elliott if she stayed and helped him out of the water. The trauma of her little brother's death still lingered, and Martha decided to get counseling. Her mother must have raised her right in the short time they'd had together. She served up more information about George's money scams. Washington DC's first rule of scandal—the cover-up was always worse than the crime.
If Martha had waited five minutes and called the police, they would have ruled Elliott's death an accident if he had drowned. Instead, Elliott had saved himself, only to be found by the deadly Deborah. Martha ran in fear of replaying her brother's death. Then she was a powerless child, but now she was a frightened adult. The results had been the same. Maybe Elliott played dead to escape from Deborah's grip again. Had she been the competitor Dominick had been trying to push out years ago?
"As always, Deborah knows best and moved the body to make sure Elliott was dead," I said to myself.
"And I didn't think you'd come here after being dumped," Deborah said from the kitchen doorway. The glint of a gun caught the lamplight. "I told him to leave you be, but he always loved stupid women. Nick ditched you, and you couldn't take the hint."
First, don't scream. Speak in soft, dulcet tones. Next, don't move anything that would be seen as a threat. Last, don't release my sphincter muscle. Enough said.
"I'd lose money if I canceled and figured I deserved a vacation," I said.
It was an honest answer made under duress. Why was I justifying anything to her?
"Being cheap made you fly across the country and half the Pacific Ocean. What did Nick see in you?" Deborah asked as she loomed over me.
Dominick Carroll, aka Elliott Smythe-Wilkes. Call the players by their full names, A. Deborah.
Deadly Bubbles in the Wine (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 4) Page 15
