I opened the door and gave her my best why-are-you-bothering-me stare.
“Summer,” she said, pushing past me and storming inside.
“I’m not buying whatever it is you’re selling,” I told her.
She came to rest beside the kitchen counter and turned around to glare at me. Arms crossed over skimpily clad chest, she scowled.
“I’m not here to sell you a damn thing,” she snapped.
“Well,” I drawled, leaning against the door frame; the open door at my back an invitation for her to skedaddle. “I’m not selling anything to you either.”
She huffed out a breath of air and then looked around. Her nose wrinkled at the dip in the ceiling where the ceiling tiles had swollen a few months back. I’d fixed the leak in the roof, but I hadn’t been able to afford replacing the tiles. She sneered at me and then her eyes snagged on the open file.
“Is that why you were at his house last night?” she demanded, nodding at the folder.
I crossed the kitchen and slammed the thing shut. A note was stuck to the front; my latest list of means, motive, opportunity ideas, along with pertinent players I’d uncovered.
I turned it over so she couldn’t read it, but even though Suzy was the greatest Floozy that ever lived, she was fast and cunning and lethal like a spider. A sneaky, suspicious, skimpily-clad spider.
“What do you want, Suzy?” I asked her.
“I want you to stop whatever it is you’re doing with Alex.”
Alex, as in Detective Danvers. Aka Detective Douche.
“I’m working a case.” I could hardly deny it now; she’d seen the evidence.
“Is that all you’re working on, Summer?” Her eyes trailed over the denim skirt I was wearing and the cute little cropped tassel-edged t-shirt I’d donned covered in miniature Miss Piggies.
You can never have too many Miss Piggies in my humble opinion.
“Even for you, this is dressed up,” she said snidely.
I sighed. “I’m working a case, Suzy. Not that it’s any of your business. But my only interest in Detective Danvers is professional in nature.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “You have nothing to worry about,” I muttered.
“I don’t care what you think you’re doing, Summer. Stay away from him!”
“Or what?” I snapped. I was sick of this. If Detective Douche fancied her so much, he could have her. I wanted nothing to do with him.
“Or,” Suzy said, drawing the word out. Her eyes flicked to the upside down manila folder. “Or I’ll tell Tia that you suspect her brother of something and he’s at the top of the list you’ve given the police.”
I blinked at her. “You wouldn’t.” It was the wrong thing to say.
She pulled her cell phone out and took a picture of me, with the file in the foreground, and then started tapping away on her screen.
“Suzy,” I said, stepping forward. “This is an open investigation. If you let something like that out, it could compromise things.”
“You should have thought of that before you left sensitive information lying around for anyone to see, Summer.”
“Suzy,” I said, more urgently. “Do you want to screw this up for Danvers?”
“Wouldn’t be him I’m screwing it up for, now would it?”
“Wanna bet?” I reached for her phone. She danced out of reach.
“What’s it gonna be, Summer?” she taunted, rounding the kitchen island and placing herself closer to the open door. “Make a fool of yourself with Alex? Or make a fool of yourself with Tia’s family?”
I shook my head at her.
“You’re making a mistake,” I whispered.
“No, Summer! The only mistake made here is you thinking you have anything a man like Alex would want. You’ve got ginger hair, for crying out loud! What man would want that?”
I loved the way she purposely avoided looking at my breasts when she said that. But then, Danvers was a leg man; hence my short denim skirt. Clearly, Suzy hadn’t cottoned onto that yet.
I glanced down at her pencil-thin skirt. It stopped below her knees. But with the stiletto heels she was wearing, her legs did look lovely. Maybe she was onto Danvers, then.
“I’m not interested in him, Suzy,” I tried.
“Liar,” she spat and kept on tapping away on her screen.
I took a step toward her. She took one back, crossing the threshold of the house, and coming to rest on the front porch.
“I can’t wait for Tia to come after you,” she snarled. “Her kind know how to fight. By the time she’s through with you, you won’t have any ginger hair left on your stupid bobblehead.”
“Her kind?” I asked, my voice eerily quiet. I didn’t care what she said about me. But about my friend? About lovely Tia Maria?
“You know what I mean,” she snapped. “Dark-skinned, darker souled. The little black-hearted slut…”
I reached out and gripped the softball bat I kept behind the door and lifted it.
Suzy stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes widened, and her body froze.
I took a solitary step forward, brandishing the bat as though I was winding up to hit the home run of the century.
“Get off my property,” I growled.
“You…you…” She turned and ran, almost losing her footing in those ridiculously high heels of hers. She stopped at her red monstrosity of a car and glared at me. “You are in so much trouble,” she said, snapping a picture of me storming down the front path, the devil in my eyes and the baseball bat swinging.
She squeaked, fumbled with the door of her car, and then threw herself into the front seat.
With more poise than I thought her capable of, she kept her eyes on me and slowly clicked the doors locked.
I nodded my head, pointed the bat at her, and turned back toward the house.
The cops came ten minutes later.
Of course, they did.
Chapter 13
The Monkey Made Me Do It!
Suzy had blocked access to my garage, so I hadn’t been able to flee. The woman had a nasty streak to her, but then, I was the one who had threatened bodily harm with a baseball bat, so there was that.
Still, she sat perched on the hood of her Mazda watching the cops drill me, a small smile playing across red-painted lips. The devil’s lips. The devil didn’t wear Prada; she wore Shiseido Rouge Rouge.
I tapped my strappy sandalled-covered foot on the bottom step of the porch and looked up innocently at the constable before me.
“Ms O’Dare,” he said. “She’s got a photo of you swinging the bat.”
“Could be photoshopped,” I told him.
“It’s time-stamped. Ten minutes ago.”
“Maybe she’s very clever with photo editing apps.”
“I think you might be giving her too much credit.”
I blinked at the man, who looked like he was trying not to grimace at his borderline offensive statement.
His partner stepped forward.
“You can’t threaten people with baseball bats, Ms O’Dare.”
“She shouldn’t have been trespassing.”
“Do you have a trespass notice out against Ms Kidd?”
I shook my head.
“Then venturing onto your property to offer you a sales contract for your house is not trespassing.”
The she-devil had produced one such sale agreement as soon as the boys in blue had turned up.
“The house isn’t for sale,” I muttered.
They both looked at the slightly leaning cosy cottage and didn’t disagree.
“Did Ms Kidd pose a physical threat of some sort?” Cop One asked. I was calling him Constable Candy because his cheeks were pink, his eyes were green, and his hair was white. Well, blonde. But he looked like a candy cane.
And it was Christmas.
“Suzy is a threat to all womanhood,” I told him.
“A physical threat,” he repeated.
I shook my head.
“Did she threaten you verb
ally?” he tried.
“Well,” I said, “about that. Ever heard a seagull caw? It kinda threatens your eardrums if you’re standing too close to it. Right? Am I right? You know I’m right.”
I looked from one to the other. Both cops blinked and then turned and shared a look that spoke volumes.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. This was not going well at all.
I glanced from beneath my fringe at Suzy who smirked at me and offered a little finger wave in return.
My eyes reluctantly returned to the coppers.
Constable Candy and Constable…
I didn’t get to finish my thought. A certain police-issued SUV drove down the street toward my house, and the cops straightened.
“Do you think he’s coming here?” I asked. “Or is it just a coincidence?”
“Not a coincidence,” Cop One said.
“You tattled on me!” I accused.
“He’s our superior officer.”
And he was dating Suzy.
“No Christmas cards for you, Constable Candy,” I told him.
He stared at me. “Constable McQueen,” he said. “Andy,” he offered.
“Summer,” I told him.
“I know.”
“Sir,” Cop Two said as Detective Douche slid out of the driver’s side of his car and started towards us. Part way there he paused, looking toward Suzy’s Mazda. As if he hadn’t noticed it already. I narrowed my eyes at him. Douche.
“I’m innocent!” I said, throwing my hands up in a don-t’shoot-me stance. “I’m being framed!”
Danvers held up his palm for us to wait and walked across the drive to Suzy.
She slid off the hood and presented her good side; the side that didn’t show off her horns and forked-tongue. With one hand pressed to his upper arm as if in need of support, she rushed into a retelling of events complete with tears and shudders.
“The girl is wasted in Northland,” I commented.
Both cops looked back at me.
“You haven’t noticed a decided lack of Hollywood talent spotters here?” I asked.
Candy snorted; Cop Two just looked stunned.
Constable Confounded. No, that wouldn’t do. This needed dedicated thought.
Danvers extricated himself from Suzy’s clutches and strode across the front of the property towards me.
“Can I request asylum?” I whispered.
“What?” Cop Two asked.
“Diplomatic immunity?” I offered.
“Ms O’Dare,” Candy admonished.
“The monkey made me do it!” I blurted as Danvers came to a stop before me.
“The monkey?” he asked.
“It’s damn near impossible to get that monkey off my back,” I said seriously.
Danvers looked back toward Suzy, who offered up a wave of her hand and then dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
I snorted.
Danvers turned back and looked down at me sitting on the porch step, hands on his hips, scowl on his face.
“A baseball bat,” he said.
“Be thankful it wasn’t a frying pan. That was in equally easy reach.”
“A bat,” he repeated.
“You seem to be fixated on this point of fact.”
Danvers sighed. Then he looked at Constable Candy. “Have you taken Ms Kidd’s statement?” he asked.
“Not yet, sir,” Candy said.
“Might be a good time to do that,” Danvers suggested.
“I thought you’d want to, sir.”
“Not a good idea.” Especially if he was porking her.
I snorted, then quickly lowered my eyes to my chest, where several Miss Piggies stared back at me and wiggled their piggy hips.
“How apropos,” I muttered.
A few more words were shared between the officers and then it was just Danvers and me staring at each other.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked.
“She saw the case file,” I told him. “She threatened to release information to a concerned party. I did what I had to do.”
Danvers pulled himself back as if he was having trouble parsing all of that.
“What case file?”
“You know what cases file, Detective; don’t be coy.”
“You left it lying around?”
“I was reading it when she stormed into my house - without invitation, I might add - and proceeded to tell me…”
“Tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I heard you; I just wasn’t sure if what I heard was correct.”
“I’m not that hard to read,” I told him.
“No, Ms O’Dare, you are, in fact, a mystery.”
I waved his statement away.
“Suffice it to say,” I said, “Suzy is the devil in disguise and if you’re not careful, she’ll consume your soul in trade for sexual favours. Don’t trade sexual favours, Detective. Just don’t.”
“Something my mother drilled into me when I was a young man,” he said.
“I like your mother.”
“So do I.”
“Good, sensible woman, I’ve no doubt.”
“She’s a cop. We’re all sensible.”
“I’m not sure Constable Candy is sensible.”
“Candy?” He shook his head. “Summer.” He said my name. I perked up. “You can’t go around threatening people with baseball bats.”
“I’m having a déjà vu moment, all over again.”
“Are you even listening?”
“I heard you. No bats.”
He studied me for a moment, then said, “What did she do?”
I blinked up at him. Maybe he wasn’t completely under the devil’s spell yet. There was hope for the man.
“What she always does,” I told him. “Pushed the right buttons.”
His whole demeanour changed as if the little insight into me he’d just received made him happy. I wasn’t sure what he thought was so humorous about me revealing my weaknesses for all to see. But something made his features soften.
“Well,” he said. “You only threatened her with the bat. You didn’t actually use it on her or her property. I think I can get her to drop the charges.”
I said nothing. I thought silence here was the better option.
He looked across the lawn to Suzy and then turned back to me.
“We’ve identified the courier driver,” he announced, stunning me. Abrupt Subject Changes R Us. I might have to start calling him Mr Whiplash if ever I got tired of Detective Douche. Not likely. “He didn’t show up for work yesterday,” he added. “No sign of him at his address. He’s in the wind.”
“Or simply missing.”
“There is that,” he agreed, amenably. “But he packed a bag. Clothes and toiletries are missing,” he explained. “And he withdrew all of his savings from the bank.”
“On the run.”
“On the run,” he agreed.
We both stared across the front lawn to Suzy. Not that the subject brought her to mind, but there wasn’t much else to look at other than the devil and Danvers’ cops. Other than each other, of course.
“There’s more,” he said, still watching the sideshow underway over by the Mazda. “The courier company has a standing contract to deliver medical supplies to the rural doctors throughout Northland.” My neck started to prickle. “He had a reason to be up here. The local GP confirmed as much.”
The prickle became a sharp prick; I could almost feel the blood trickle out of a minuscule puncture hole. The type of teeny, tiny hole made by a hypodermic needle. I rubbed my hand over the nape of my neck and sucked in a breath of air to steady myself.
The scent of marijuana reached my nose.
My stomach plummeted to the soles of my prettily toenail-painted feet. Pot was not injected. But other recreational drugs were. Did this mean the Rikas were branching out? How did this fit in with the courier drive
r and the stealing of Big Wig’s secrets?
I was about to dismiss the sensation and the questions it raised for later consideration when a familiar feeling replaced all others across the back of my neck.
Coarse rope. There and gone again.
It wasn’t often I received the same impression again once I’d discovered what needed to be discovered regarding it. The murder victim on the Mangonui Wharf had been found. Where Mikey was meant to be. Mikey, who was a Rika and part of the only marijuana distribution ring in Doubtless Bay.
That could have been the connection.
Or it might have meant something else entirely.
I screwed up my nose and only then noticed that Danvers was studying me.
“Have you got something to add?” he asked.
He knew about the Rikas. He knew who they were and what they did. And he also knew I’d been following a lead at the Taipa Tavern which led me to them. I hadn’t put into words any connections I may have made yet. But Danvers wasn’t stupid; he could see where the breadcrumbs were going.
The Rikas and a drug deal on a boat. The murdered man found on the fishing wharf. Me hired by the cops to find out who had stolen corporate information from a man staying at the Shimmering Sands.
Were they all connected? Or were we looking at several crimes all transpiring in the same location?
I didn’t know, and that’s what held my tongue. I’d like to think it was loyalty to Tia; to our friendship. But it might have just been the fact that I wasn’t sure what I was dealing with yet.
Jumping to conclusions wasn’t the sign of a good investigator. I wanted to be hired by the police again, so I needed to not stuff this up with Danvers.
“Nothing to add, Detective,” I said.
His relaxed demeanour changed back to the guarded one he’d been wearing when he first arrived on my property. I missed it already, but I was also glad it left him silent. If he’d asked me the right question, I might have caved.
Something told me that Detective Danvers was more than capable of asking the right question.
And I was more than capable of answering the man.
Of course, the right question should ideally contain the words “donut” and “I’m buying” in it, but that was probably just my stomach talking.
“OK, Ms O’Dare,” the detective said. A purposeful use of my surname? “I’ll deal with Ms Kidd. You keep all baseball bats under wraps. And we’ll see where that gets us.”
Chasing Summer Page 11
