Murder in Tropical Breeze (Tropical Breeze Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Mary Bowers

I took my receipt and grabbed the handle of my cart.

  “Never mind,” I said. “I can get it over at Publix, I bet. See ya, Graeme.”

  It rained all day. The animals at the shelter slept, mostly, but when there was thunder, they were restless and, some of them, scared. That always makes me feel so helpless. I’d give anything to be able to tell them that thunder is only a noise; it can’t hurt them. Maybe someday we’ll figure out how to talk to animals like we talk to other humans. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve thought that!

  The biggest issue for us on days like that is getting the dogs to take their walks and do their business. A few of them act the same on a rainy day as they do on a sunny one, but not very many. Carlene was in that day, and along with Stacey and Angie, we managed to get everybody a little exercise. I took the nervous little Chihuahua, Kika, myself. She’s about six pounds of nerve endings and eyeballs, and she seemed to trust me more than most people. In the end I had to carry her back after a sudden blast of thunder hit just as she was getting busy. Thank God she was on a leash or she would’ve been under the garden shed again, where she went whenever she could get away from her handler after she’d come to us the week before. She was the first dog we’d had who’d been tiny enough to get under there, and I’d bricked it up as best I could after that, but you never knew where she’d find a hiding place next. I scooped her up and cradled her to my chest, and she didn’t stop shivering until we were back inside the shelter.

  I crooned nonsense words at her to try to soothe her as I carried her back to her suite, but she looked up at me with her sad, buggedy eyes as I left her, and I had to get a grip on myself. If I didn’t watch it, I’d have every animal in the shelter living with me in my house in about two days. Still, days like that were hard.

  As darkness fell that night, I was glad to see the rain taper off to a misty drizzle, then stop. Maybe now we could all get some sleep. I went back to my house, got a glass of wine, thought about a bubble bath, felt like I just couldn’t bother, then sat down next to Basket and gazed out the back window.

  “Tough day at the shelter,” I said.

  Basket turned her head, gazed at me blankly, then went back to looking out the window.

  So much for trying to get a little warmth out of a goddess. And tonight, I needed a little warmth. I’d managed to get over the willies she’s given me the night before, but my peaceful rainy-day feeling of that morning was now the depressing rainy-day feeling of night.

  I decided not to think about Michael. I was still mad at him for the way he’d let Tina vamp him at lunch on Saturday. Honestly, men are such dopes! Even when they think a woman is a phony, they can’t help playing the game. You’d think a man Michael’s age would know better.

  For one reason or another, I hadn’t seen him since, and I was disturbed to realize how much I missed him. Here it was only Tuesday, and I wanted to talk to him badly, if only because lunch had ended on a sour note. I’d been so happy, walking across the street to the diner with him, before Tina shoved herself into the booth. I wasn’t jealous; I just didn’t like to see him play the fool.

  Now that I’d had time to settle down, I wasn’t so sure Tina had been the only one acting badly. For the first time, I wondered if I’d been bitchy while Tina had gone over the top being charming. Which would a man prefer, I asked myself, a phony charmer or a sincere bitch?

  I reached out and grabbed the phone, startling Basket.

  “Please answer,” I whispered as his phone rang on the other end. “I really need a buddy tonight.”

  Sometimes, little prayers get answered.

  “Hey, Taylor,” he said. “I was just going to call you.”

  “You were?” Darn! It would’ve been so much better if he’d called me!

  “How about having dinner with me tonight? Have you tried Thirty-Nine yet?”

  “No.”

  “It’s great.”

  Since he lived in town, not two blocks from Thirty-Nine, and I was out in the boonies, I told him there was no point in him picking me up. I’d meet him there in an hour.

  “See you there. If I get there first, I’ll be in the bar,” he said.

  I hung up, and that rainy-day feeling was magically gone.

  Chapter 20

  The blasted woman was like a shadow over me, always spoiling things and causing trouble.

  I breezed into Thirty-Nine, feeling my lighter-than-air yellow sundress swirling around my knees. That always makes me feel like such a lady, that swish of silky fabric against bare legs, and since I live most of my life in capris or jeans, I get that sensation about once a year. Yes, I knew it might start raining again, and I did have a light wrap around my shoulders and an umbrella in my purse, but that evening, in the sultriness of a wet evening in Florida, I felt like wearing a sundress. I was going to turn my rainy day around.

  And there she was – Tina Armstrong, getting hammered at the bar. She had both elbows down on the counter and was leaning on them heavily, apparently to keep her face from smacking the bar. And next to her, nodding and trying to look sympathetic, was Michael. When I came in behind a gust of wet air, he looked up, first desperate, then relieved, nodded agreement toward Tina one last time, got up and took his wineglass. She started saying something, and I was able to read the whole pantomime as if I could hear them:

  “Oh, Taylor’s here? I’ll just come along and join you, Michael honey. Taylor and I are such good friends!”

  “No, Tina honey, you just stay right here. Taylor and I are going to be talking business, and we’d just bore you.”

  Through the soft pulse of music, I couldn’t hear what they actually said, but it had to be.

  And she would’ve attached herself to his arm like a deer tick if she hadn’t been so drunk, because when she grabbed for him, she missed and nearly fell off the bar stool. Michael set her upright, dodged neatly around her and came toward me smiling gorgeously. I could only think the word, “trim.” He was trim. His hair was neat, his body was lean, his clothes were perfect, everything fit together. I wondered if I was in love.

  Michael signaled to the maitre d’ that we were ready for our table, then came up and gave me a little buss on the cheek. My heart went pitter pat, and I hoped I looked as pretty as I felt.

  “I’m so glad you called,” he said, gazing into my eyes.

  “Me too.”

  We went into the dining room and got seated at a little table for two. It was my first time in Thirty-Nine, and I took a look around.

  The lighting was golden, seeming to fill the room without brightening it, and the décor was modern, with linen tablecloths and metalwork furniture that was a dull brass in color. The wait staff wore black slacks and white shirts with ties. Only the music was off: I don’t happen to like jazz, but it was cool jazz and fit the restaurant, and it wasn’t very loud.

  “So,” Michael said when the waiter had taken my drink order. “Tell me all about it.”

  I laughed. “Tell you all about what?”

  “About your day. I know all about rainy days at the shelter. Who got stubborn and wouldn’t go for walkies?”

  I melted. What a man! I mentioned my little problem with Kika, and he treated it as seriously as if I’d been talking about problems with a human child.

  My wine arrived and we touched glasses. Yes, I thought, I could definitely spend a lot more time with this guy.

  “And how’s that new cat of yours?” he asked. “Is it Basket?”

  I tilted my head in thought. “Secretive. I never know what she’s thinking, but she always seems to know what I’m thinking.” At the thought of the goddess, I took a quick, sharp look around the room. Then I relaxed. Golden. Not green. I guess she was giving me the night off.

  “That’s a cat for you. It’s funny,” Michael said. “It seems like all this started with her. Like her arrival almost had something to do with it.”

  “With what? Vesta’s death?”

  “No, of course not. But she did show up imm
ediately after, and Vesta was always talking about cats and goddesses and for all I know, both. Strange.”

  He seemed relieved when the waiter came to take our order. We hadn’t even looked at the menus yet, and we had to stop and look it over so we’d be ready when he came back again.

  Once our orders were in, Michael changed the subject.

  “I heard about the break-in at Girlfriend’s. Does Peterson really think you’re in danger because of Vesta’s things? What exactly did he say?”

  I told him. While I did, I glanced up to see Jordan coming into the dining room with a stunning brunette in a strapless dress. Every man in the room (including Michael) turned his head and went brain-dead. Her hair picked up glossy highlights in gold from the lighting, and her skin was a creamy caramel color. She moved with feline grace, conscious of the attention and able to ignore it with confidence. I admired the curve of her long neck, and the sculpted shape of her bare shoulders and firm, round arms. Jordan was an exceptionally good-looking young man, and this lady was a perfect match. They were ready for the magazine cover. To my surprise, Jordan noticed us and brought his lady over to our table.

  “Taylor, Michael, this is Carmen.”

  Michael stood, and I smiled and shook hands. I felt absurdly flattered to be noticed by the young man.

  “We’re heading back to Miami tomorrow, so Dad suggested we all have dinner together tonight. He and Diana should be here any minute.”

  “How nice,” I said.

  “I’m going to work on Dad tonight. He should really sell the old family pile. It’s so far out of town, and much too big for the two of them, and Diana hates the place.”

  “I remember her mentioning wanting to move when we were out at Cadbury House picking up the donation.”

  “Don’t pressure him to do anything too soon,” Michael advised. “He was so close to your grandmother, it’s hit him hard. But in his own time, I think he probably will sell the place. Were you hoping he’d move closer to you?”

  “That’d be one option. In fact, I’d love it.”

  When the young couple had made their way to a table for four across the room, I said, “She’s lovely.”

  “Isn’t she? And she seems to be leading Jordan on quite a dance. It’ll do him good. He’s been used to having his way with the girls of Tropical Breeze.”

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I guess he got himself involved with a local girl from the wrong side of the tracks once. It’s one of the reasons his father sent him off to Tennessee. Anyway, he’s a grown man now, and I think it’s past time the apron strings were cut.” He took another sip of wine.

  “What apron strings? He doesn’t live at home anymore.”

  “That’s true. But poor Vesta worried about him so. She never could quite let go.”

  I shrugged. “She was his grandmother. They can be even more protective than mothers.”

  “She was also his trustee,” he said pointedly.

  “Oh. And now --?”

  “It’s down to his father and me. And we agree that a man who’s close to thirty is old enough to handle his own affairs. On the other hand, young people don’t grow up as fast as they once did, especially wealthy ones. Vesta still thought of Jordan as a child who needed to be controlled. Graeme is easy-going about things, so that put me in a bad position. I had to be the bad guy whenever the answer was no, since I always had the swing vote. I usually erred on the side of caution, but Jordan’s 28 now. Time we treated him like a grown-up. He’ll gain control of his trust when he’s 30 anyway, so Graeme and I agreed we’d give him more leeway now, while we can still rein him in if we need to.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  Our salads arrived and we started to eat. I probably should’ve stayed away from the subject of Tina, but I couldn’t help myself. I asked if she’d been trying to join us while he was ditching her at the bar.

  “She was,” he said, lowering his voice a notch. He finished his wine and looked around for our waiter to order another. “Something’s up with her tonight. Something must have happened since the last time I saw her, because she’s drinking herself blind, and that’s just not like her. She’s pretty pleased with herself most of the time, and when she drinks, it’s usually just enough to get happy.”

  “Did she pour out her troubles to you?”

  “Not that I could figure out. She was already pretty far gone by the time I got here, and she was just talking about the injustice of things in general.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  He gazed at me levelly, giving it some thought.

  “Look, if you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. I don’t want to pry,” I told him.

  “It’s not exactly a secret. Everybody at the bar was laughing at us.”

  “At her – and you too?”

  He leaned back slightly as his wineglass was refilled. Mine was still full from the last go-round. When the waiter was gone, he leaned forward and quietly said, “She seems to have gotten the idea into her head that I’m going to run away with her.”

  I nearly burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, is that what it’s all about? She was in Girlfriend’s yesterday, waltzing around like a debutante and hinting about moving south, and that there was a man involved. She was talking about you?” I would’ve laughed, but I saw the look on his face and settled down.

  “I guess so. I don’t know where the idea came from, but she was all over me about it, and not being very subtle. The funny thing is --”

  “What?”

  He seemed unsure how to go on. “She seemed – desperate.”

  “And that’s new?”

  “No, I mean different desperate. Desperate to get out of Tropical Breeze.”

  “With you. I think we should put more emphasis on the ‘with you’ part and not the ‘getting out’ part.”

  He gazed at me a moment. “I’m not so sure. But it was pretty damned embarrassing. Usually I can handle Tina when she acts like a drama queen. I’ve got to admit, most of the time I enjoy it; what man doesn’t? She is a beautiful woman, though she’s not anywhere near my type.”

  Once again, I tried to control my reaction. Well-bred ladies do not do fist pumps in classy restaurants. I nodded sympathetically. “So she was a handful, huh?”

  He let his exasperation show. “Over the top and down the other side.”

  “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry. It really is kind of sad.” I was trying not to smile. After they way he’d played up to her at Don’s Diner she might’ve thought she had a conquest, but honestly, she decided he was leaving his lifetime home and running off with her because of some quick flirty-time at a greasy spoon? Too funny! And at the same time, sad.

  Our dinners came and I decided to let the whole subject of Tina die a natural death, but it wasn’t to be. As we started to eat, Michael looked across the room in horror, and here came Tina, barely able to walk and about to make a scene. Suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore.

  Just as she planted her feet and opened her mouth, with the attention of the whole restaurant riveted on her and the room suddenly in dead silence, I heard a man say, “Well, Tina, aren’t you brightly lit tonight?” and saw Doc Fleming come up behind her and take her arm, steering her around and toward the exit like a ballroom-dancing bouncer, chattering at her all the way.

  In a less formal setting, the room would’ve erupted in applause. As it was, a collective sigh of relief (or disappointment?) swept the room, and the owner’s wife ran after them, no doubt to let Doc know that his next meal would be comped.

  Michael looked back at me with big eyes. “Thank God for Doc,” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I said impishly. “I’d kind of like to know what it was she was about to say to you.”

  “To me?” he said. “She wasn’t headed for our table. She was headed for Jordan and Carmen, I think.”

  I realized that he was right. “Huh! What could she possibly have to say to them?”


  “I don’t know,” Michael said, looking down to cut a bite from his steak.

  I was having cheese-stuffed pasta shells in a sherry-mushroom sauce, and I pushed one of the plump shells around, then looked across the table again, but he just went on eating. I could’ve sworn he knew something about it, and that he could guess just exactly what Tina Armstrong would’ve had to say to the scion on the Huntington family, but he hadn’t had quite enough wine to be indiscreet.

  As I looked around, I realized that Sheena was there too. Catching my eye, she did a fingertip wave to me. I waved back. She was with Kevin, who was looking as if somebody had held him down, scrubbed his face and slicked his hair down. I made a mental note to stop by their table on our way out and say hi, then tried to let all the currents around me float away while I just had a nice meal with Michael.

  “We’re celebrating the baby,” Sheena said, bubbling over a bit as Michael and I paused by their table.

  Kevin had his back to me and gave me a split-second glance. I hadn’t forgotten my suspicions after the break-in at Girlfriend’s. I looked for evidence of Wicked’s claws, but the lighting, while great for romance, wasn’t good for a forensic exam. Still, I didn’t see any obvious scratches. It started me thinking, though, and before the wheels could really start turning and cause an awkward pause, I smiled across the table at Sheena and said, “Congratulations, you two. Or should I say three?”

  “Thanks!” gushed Sheena.

  We stepped out into the humid night and a lazy breeze stirred the hem of my skirt. It was warm, and I let my silky wrap drop to my elbows, then took Michael’s arm. The rain had stopped and we could see stars; maybe the weather would clear up and my many, many babies would sleep quietly tonight.

  We looked down the street and saw Doc Fleming carefully checking the passenger-side door of his car. We walked over.

  “Great save, Doc,” Michael said, shaking hands with him. He bent down and looked into the car. “You’re taking Tina home? She passed out, huh?”

  “Oh, she’s all right,” the doctor said. “I couldn’t get any sense out of her when we got outside, and I don’t see her car, so I think she must’ve walked over from her condo. It’s only a few blocks away. As soon as I got her seatbelt on, she was out like a light. I’ll have her home in no time.”