by Ball, Donna
“I am so sorry!” The young man who had been chasing his dog arrived on Melanie’s heels. “He’s a little headstrong.”
“That’s okay,” I said, smiling. “I’m familiar with the syndrome.”
The two dogs, sensing no more treats were forthcoming, got up and started sniffing the ground. I gave Cisco a sharp, “Ank!” in reprimand, and he immediately sat again. In my house, we practice the implied stay, which means that whenever I give a command, the dog should continue doing it until I tell him otherwise. Of course, the trick to making this effective is to make corrections last for only seconds, and as Cisco’s butt hit the ground, I said, “Release!”, and he went off to join his friend in sniffing for more treats.
“I wish I could get this knucklehead to do that,” said the young man with a grin, ruffling his dog’s ears. “I hope he didn’t bother you.”
Rita said, “You’re American. It’s nice to hear a familiar accent.”
“Canadian, actually.” He extended his hand. “I’m Rick, and that’s Cocoa.”
We introduced ourselves and shook hands all around. “Maybe they can have play dates,” Melanie suggested hopefully. “Cisco and Cocoa, I mean.” She watched as one of the dogs tagged the other on the tail and a quick game of chase-and-tumble began. Honestly, at a distance I couldn’t tell which was which. They even wore the same red collar.
“That would be great,” said Rick, “but Cocoa isn’t really my dog. He belongs to the family I work for. I just take care of him. We run on the beach every day about this time though. Maybe he and Cisco can play together again.”
“Cool,” Melanie said, and looked at me. “Let’s remember that, okay, Raine? Cisco needs to play with friends his own age.”
I could hardly keep from laughing, and I could tell Rita was struggling too. I assured her, “I think you’re right. But now we’d better start back before your father sends out a search party. It was nice meeting you and Cocoa, Rick,” I told the young man. “And the trick to getting a dog to come is sliced hot dogs, dehydrated in the microwave for five or ten seconds.”
He grinned. “Hey, thanks. Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow. Come on, Cocoa.”
He caught Cocoa’s collar and turned to go back up the beach. The dog fell happily into step beside him until Melanie said, “Cisco, come on, let’s go home.”
The dog with Rick turned and looked back at us alertly. The dog Melanie had addressed as Cisco ignored her.
I said, “Um…”
Rick released Cisco’s collar and he bounced back to us, grinning and looking for more treats. I slipped my hand under Cocoa’s collar and brought him forward. “I think this is your dog,” I said.
“Man, sorry about that.” He quickly came forward and took Cocoa’s collar. “I’d lose my job if I brought home the wrong dog. “ He gave us another quick grin and a wave. “Have a good day, now!”
He took off at a jog down the beach, and this time Cocoa followed him. I held on to Cisco’s collar so he would not.
Rita watched the young man go, a thoughtful expression her face. “Canadian, my big toe,” she said, and that made Melanie giggle. “Did you hear the way he pronounced ‘dog’? One ‘o’, not two. I’ll bet my last dime that young man has never been north of Washington D.C. in his life.”
She might have been right about the accent, but I had to admit I’d never been able to tell the difference between a Canadian accent and, say, a Minnesotan one. We didn’t get much of either in Western North Carolina. I said, “Why would he lie?”
She shrugged, but Melanie suggested, “Maybe his boss is French. They hate Americans.”
That made us both laugh a little, mostly in surprise at her perspicuity, and Rita said, “That’s as good an explanation as any. You’re pretty smart for a little kid, you know that?’
Melanie agreed easily, “I know.”
We turned back toward the pavilion, and Melanie and Cisco raced ahead. I hadn’t thought about it much until Rita pointed it out, but Melanie had changed a lot in the past six months—from a sullen, smart-mouthed kid addicted to video games and electronic devices to a bright young girl who was focused and disciplined, curious and outgoing, who loved the outdoors and was well on her way to becoming one heck of a dog handler—not to mention a pretty good detective, which she currently insisted was her future profession. I refused to believe that I was responsible for all of that, of course, but it made me feel a little proud to think I might have had even a small part in bringing it out.
Melanie was regaling her father with the story of Cisco’s new friend when we reached the pavilion. Cisco was lapping up water from his folding canvas bowl—so tired that he was doing so lying down, I noticed—and Miles had made room for his daughter on the padded chaise beside him, his phone in his hand. “We’re here for the rest of the week,” he teased her. “You and Cisco don’t have to do everything on the first day. By the way,” he told us as I sank into the chair beside him, “we have dinner reservations at seven. That’s early for the in crowd, but I know a place or two that doesn’t even open until midnight if you want to go clubbing later.”
He managed to say this with a straight face, and I gave it the response it deserved. I leaned back in the chair, pulled my hat down over my eyes, and said, “Have fun.” I had been up since four thirty that morning and I wasn’t even sure I could make it through dinner.
Melanie said thoughtfully, “Say, do you think Cocoa could be Cisco’s brother?”
“Could be,” I murmured without opening my eyes. “Cisco comes from a pretty famous line.” But that was another thing I didn’t want to think about. The line that Cisco came from had been developed in part by Maude. She had given me my first golden retriever, from whom Cisco was descended. Maude had been such a major part of my life for so many years. And for most of those years, she had been lying to me.
Melanie said, “What’s his kennel name again?”
I opened my eyes as she picked up her father’s phone. “Melanie, I don’t think…”
“I’m just going to look up his litter. Wouldn’t it be cool to know where all the puppies went?”
“Well…”
“Hey, Dad.” She turned the phone around to him. “Google alert.”
Miles took the phone and glanced at it. He sat up straighter, murmuring, “Well, I’ll be—”
He cut himself off, and both Rita and I turned to look at him. “Rachelle Denison’s death is now being called a homicide,” he told us, “and Alex Barry is being questioned for murder.”
~*~
FOUR
So much for not discussing Rachelle Denison’s drowning in front of Melanie, although I have to hand it to Miles, he did a pretty good job of being both straightforward and brief— possibly because there was nothing more to tell—and Melanie soon lost interest. What he did not mention, and I was dying to ask, was why he had set up a Google alert in the first place.
I was not to have a chance to satisfy my curiosity that afternoon, though. Cisco had to be shampooed, sun-dried, brushed out and fed, and by the time I got my own curly hair shampooed and tamed and had changed into a floral-print sundress with cute yellow sandals that I admit I bought just for the trip, I was the last one down. Both Cisco and I enjoyed the outdoor shower, though.
Miles was on the lanai, looking very dapper in a custom-tailored sports jacket and an open-throated white shirt, and very serious as he talked on the phone. I was little annoyed at this, as I had hoped he would be able to put business on hold at least for the time we were here, and so far he’d done a pretty good job. No one was perfect, I supposed. However, he disconnected immediately and was back in vacation mode the minute Melanie called, “Dad, we’re ready! Let’s go!”
I loved the place Miles had chosen, mostly because it was clear he had done so with Melanie in mind. It was like walking into a rain forest, with tumbling waterfalls at every turn and curtains of greenery separating one table from the next. There was a sky-high central atrium with a glass roof and a
parrot cage that went from floor to ceiling. Every table had a view of the colorful soaring birds, and I was just as fascinated by them as Melanie was. Rita and I had some kind of rainbow-layered drink that we both discovered midway through was far too strong to finish, and Melanie had a watermelon-lime non-alcoholic cocktail that she claimed was delicious.
I enjoyed listening to Rita and Miles remember the old days and tell stories about each other—some of them mildly embarrassing, some just fun. And because Melanie had never heard those stories either, I felt like part of the family. Miles encouraged me to try a sushi appetizer—seriously, we don’t get much sushi in Hansonville—which was surprisingly good, and the fish en croute that I had for a main course was unbelievable. When Melanie and her grandmother excused themselves between the main course and dessert to go to the ladies’ room, I took the opportunity to scoot around the semi-circular banquette seat and kiss Miles quickly on the cheek.
“This,” I told him, “has been a perfect day. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” But when I started to slide away again he caught my fingers, eyes twinkling. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“You know what.”
From somewhere inside that still existed from the pre-vacation Raine, I found a mildly annoyed frown. “You were right,” I mumbled.
“Excuse me? Couldn’t quite catch that.”
I gave a sigh of exasperation. “I said you were right, okay? I needed to get away. You were right.”
He smiled. “So I was.” He kissed my fingers. “And I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
I smiled at him and started to slide back to my own seat again but he held on to my fingers. “Hey,” he said. “Have I told you how good you look here?”
A surprised blush tinged my already sun-burnished cheeks. “Thanks,” I said, trying to brush it off. “It’s the lighting.”
“Not just here,” he said, holding my gaze, “but here . On the island. In the sunshine. In a swimsuit. At a sidewalk café. Playing with Mel. Talking to Mom. I’m glad you’re here.”
I knew what he meant. I felt good here. I had thought I wouldn’t, I’d thought I would be completely at odds and out of my element here and in a way I suppose I was but at the same time it felt good. I felt good. I knew what he meant and I liked it, I just didn’t know how to respond to it.
I’m sure I would have thought of something, though, if at that moment my thoughts hadn’t been shattered by a gushing female voice declaring, “Miles! Darling!”
Seriously? Again?
This time when I looked up I did not see Miles’s mother, but a gorgeous redhead in a décolletage-baring beach dress with a long, flowing skirt and an empire waist—exactly the kind of dress I had always pictured myself wearing if I were starring in a romantic movie that featured a beach scene. Miles stood, and she kissed him—if not exactly on the lips, a little too close for my taste.
“Stephanie,” he said. “It’s good to see you.” He turned to me. “This is—”
“Number Four, I know,” she interrupted, eyeing me with amusement. “Not your usual type, darling.”
I knew she was referring to Miles’s ex-wives, of which he only had three to my knowledge. I reached around him and extended my hand, my smile completely false. “I’m Raine,” I told her. “I don’t have a number.”
She lifted an eyebrow, took my hand in a limp grip, and then turned back to Miles, dismissing me. “It’s been ages. We’ve all missed you. What in the world have you been up to?”
“This and that,” he returned. He remained standing, a clear signal he did not intend to prolong the conversation, which was definitely a good thing. “What about you? Is Jackson here with you?”
“Oh, please.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I divorced that sniveling excuse for a man last year. Did you hear what happened?” She leaned in close, giving both of us a preferred-seating view of her perfectly harnessed breasts, along with a cloud of perfume that was too exotic for me to name. She widened her eyes and lowered her voice confidentially, drawing an invisible circle that included only Miles and herself. “We were at our house in Grosse Point when we woke up to a man with a knife standing right over our bed! And can you imagine—can you just imagine —what Jackson did? He started crying. He begged for mercy. And then he ripped the diamond ring right off my finger and gave it to the thief! Well, of course I knew right then it was over between us. I filed for divorce the next day.”
Miles murmured something sympathetic, but I couldn’t help noticing his expression was bored. Perhaps Stephanie noticed as well because she straightened up and went on, “Of course, it’s really no better here. Six robberies this season alone and of course you heard about poor Rachelle. And the police here are so incompetent all they can think to do is blame Alex! How ridiculous is that? Susan is here, I know she’ll be glad you are too. She came in for the anniversary party but now… what a tragedy. It will be a wake instead.” She brightened. “Maybe we can all get together for dinner.”
Miles said politely, “My schedule is uncertain.”
She looked briefly confused, then smiled brightly, getting the message. “Well, lovely to see you. I’m here for the week. I’ll see you at Alex’s Wednesday, I hope?”
Miles just smiled and answered, “You never know.”
She glanced in my direction, then back at Miles. “Keep in touch, won’t you darling? Nice to meet you, Storm.”
“Raine.”
“Right. Bye, Miles.”
When she was gone I lost no time resuming my seat on the opposite side of the booth, and Miles sat down, regarding me mildly. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “If I ever wake up to man standing over the bed with a knife, I’m counting on you to protect me.”
I said, “Please tell me you didn’t date her.”
“Okay.” He lifted his club soda, his expression completely unreadable, and took a sip. “I didn’t date her.”
I couldn’t help frowning as I tried to decide whether that might be true. “Who is Susan?”
“Alex Barry’s sister.”
Another woman, I supposed, that he hadn’t dated. If I was the jealous type, which I totally am not—at least under most circumstances— I could have pursued that, but there was something else that interested me more. “Miles,” I said, “why did you set up a Google alert for Rachelle Denison? I thought you wanted to keep the whole thing out of the family vacation.”
“Three hundred eighty six thousand dollars,” he responded.
My brows shot up in surprise and confusion. “What?”
But just then Melanie returned with an excited report about the underwater murals that were painted on the ladies’ room walls, and shortly after that dessert arrived. Melanie started to wind down over her chocolate sundae, and by the end of it could barely keep her eyes open. I knew how she felt. But as tired as I was my day was never done until my dog’s day was done, and from the way Cisco greeted us at the door, dancing and circling and doing all his tricks for attention, I knew he had gotten his second wind.
Miles volunteered to go with me as I announced my intention to take Cisco for a quick walk on the beach, which suited me just fine. The grounds were illuminated with magical landscape lighting that turned the pool into a shimmering sheet of silk and the palm trees into mystical towers of shadow and light. It was all so gorgeous I wanted to linger, but the sandy shore and the sound of the ocean beckoned. The steps were inset with safety lighting, and we descended three abreast, pausing midway down to take in the view—the indigo sea, the distant lights of a yacht at anchor, the sky peppered with stars. There really is nothing in this world more romantic than a walk on a tropical beach under a starlit sky with the guy you’re crazy about. The ocean was whispering and sighing all around, tropical breezes tugging at my air and playing with my skirt, warm damp sand between my toes. Of course, with Cisco along, it was a bit less romantic than either of us might have liked, but still it was nice, just the three
of us on the beach, Miles’s arm around my waist, Cisco at my side. Besides, I had unfinished business.
I left my sandals at the bottom of the stairs and we walked for awhile with nothing but the sound of the ocean and the rattling of the palms for company. The other villas on the hill provided the only source of light, and I was not comfortable letting Cisco off lead in the dark. I put him in “free walk” mode so that he could wander to the end of the leash and sniff the sand to his heart’s content. After a time I said, “Three hundred eighty six thousand dollars?”
Miles did not pretend to misunderstand. “The amount I contracted for with Alex Barry’s company last year to install the security systems in my new buildings. I thought it might be a good idea to keep an eye on my investment, so I set up the Google alert for his name.”
“Security?” I said. “He’s in security?”
“Altmore Security, one of the biggest providers of home and business security in the U.S.”
“Whoa,” I said. “Bad news for Altmore Security, with its owner being questioned for murder, and all.”
“Precisely,” agreed Miles, and there was a grim note to his tone that caused me to look up at him in concern. In the dark, though, it was hard to tell how upset he was, if at all. “I’m sure I’m not the only client who’s wondering what else he’s capable of, and if enough people bail—or sue—there goes the business, along with the cash his clients paid for services not provided.”
“Wow, Miles, I’m sorry,” I said, horrified at the thought of anyone, much less someone I knew, losing that much money. “I had no idea.”
He gave my waist a reassuring squeeze, smiling down at me in the dark. “It’s not that big a deal for me financially, but nobody likes to be ripped off. I have an investigator for things like this, and he’s looking into the case against Alex now. He should have some answers for me tomorrow.”
I was still trying to get my mind around the fact that a three hundred thousand dollar loss was not that big a deal for Miles when something else occurred to me. I frowned. “I’m curious,” I said.
