His dark eyebrows shot up like Pop Tarts out of a toaster. “I thought we agreed you were going to stay out of the Caldwell investigation.”
Nope. She definitely hadn’t agreed to anything like that. You’d think he’d be a little more grateful, considering that she and Dorothy had practically delivered Lorella’s murderer—or murderers, if you counted Trixie—to him on a Hibiscus Pointe silver platter. Like, hello? Who was it who’d found Ray today, anyway?
“You know, I’d hoped it was a coincidence that you stopped by that exotic pet store,” Detective Donovan said.
Seriously? He thought she was into weird, creepy animals sold by murder suspects? “I was buying a cool little turtle for my friend’s kid,” Summer said, in what she hoped was a dignified voice.
Wait a second. Why was the detective’s grandma watching her from the corner of her eye like that, as she talked to Dorothy?
“I remember you,” Peggy said, suddenly twisting fully toward Summer. “You’re that girl who cost me the tennis tournament championship yesterday.”
Jeez. “I’m really sorry about that, Mrs. Donovan,” Summer said. “But it was an emergency. They didn’t let you play match point over?”
“No. Gladys was quite emphatic on that, once you and my grandson left.” Peggy pursed her lips. “Never mind,” she said, with a wave. “I’ll win it next time. I usually do.”
“Sorry,” Detective Donovan muttered under his breath. “She gets carried away sometimes.”
“I heard that, Shane Junior,” Peggy said, but Summer saw her smile just a little. “And you’re right, young lady. Under the circumstances, with that poor librarian bumped off like that, it doesn’t amount to a pile of—”
“You know, Peggy,” Dorothy broke in smoothly, “you’ve made some excellent suggestions for additions to the reading list. We don’t have time to get it reprinted, but why don’t you give me those titles again and I’ll write them down to bring up at the meeting tomorrow?”
“Good idea,” Peggy said. “I bet I could get that nice Resident Services director to print up more copies for us, though. Such a sweet and helpful young woman. Pretty, too.” She winked at Dorothy. “I told my grandson here he’d better get off his butt and ask her out, before she gets snapped up by someone else.”
“Nana, please.” The detective’s face was as red as a stoplight. Maybe the Milano PD should switch him to traffic duty.
“Well, who else are you going to date around here?” Peggy demanded. “It’s slim pickings, I tell you, even for a nice, good-looking young man with a hero’s job.”
Ooookay. This was her cue to go, Summer thought. Before things got any worse. Obviously, Detective Donovan’s grandma hated her. And the guy could ask Jennifer on a date anytime he wanted, if he hadn’t already. She was totally over him. Even if he looked extra cute when he was embarrassed.
“Hey, Dorothy, I’m going to run to SuperMart,” she said. “We might need a few extra things for those book club refreshments.”
“Well, don’t overdo it, dear,” Dorothy said. “We can make do with whatever the Hibiscus Pointe catering staff comes up with, I’m sure.”
“Got it,” Summer said, picking up her bag from the counter on her way to the door. “See you later, guys.”
She was just crossing the parking lot from Hibiscus Gardens when her cell rang. Miracle of miracles, the rest and reboot must have worked. The screen was still cracked, though.
Maybe Dorothy had thought of something else they needed. “Hello?”
“Hey, Cali Girl,” Dash said. “This is a rescue call.”
Jeez, what now?
“I can’t stand another minute with Mother,” he said, dropping his voice. Summer envisioned him glancing over his shoulder. “She’s driving me to drink, right along with her. Do you want to hit the town with me and Esmé later? She asked us to meet her at Chameleon when she gets off work.”
A night out did sound good. She needed a break, with all the crazy stuff going on. It might help clear the stress and make her sharper for the book club sting tomorrow. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll get ready now and pick you up. I know it’s early, but I need to do a quick errand before the place closes, okay?”
“No problem,” Dash said. “I’m desperate. And by the way, thanks so much for that blooming turtle. So far it prefers the master bathtub to its aquarium.”
Gross. But Juliette-Margot sure had been thrilled when she presented her with the little guy in his clawed-through carton. “Sorry, you’re breaking up,” Summer told him. “See you in a few.”
It took her almost an hour to shower and get ready, because she couldn’t find the strappy gold Grecian sandals she needed to go with her sparkly gold top and black-and-gold miniskirt.
She felt almost like Trixie when she added swingy chocolate diamond earrings and checked herself out in the mirror. Ugh, too much. She slipped off the earrings and tossed them back on the dresser. No jewelry tonight.
Twenty minutes later, with Dash cramped up in the passenger seat, Summer pulled the MINI into the packed SuperMart parking lot.
“You’re kidding,” Dash said. “SuperMart? That’s your big errand?”
“Yep.” Summer jumped out of the car and leaned her head back in through the window. “Better than hanging out with your mom, right? Are you coming?”
“Thank you, but no,” Dash said. “I’ll just wait here and people watch.”
Summer tried to stay focused, ignoring a few stares as she grabbed giant tubs of lemonade, daiquiri, and piña colada mixes. People acted as if they’d never seen anyone dressed up before. Well, that was their problem.
She’d have to hit a liquor store later for the vodka and rum. They probably wouldn’t need much of the hard stuff, since most of the seniors didn’t drink much, but it would be good to have plenty of nonalcoholic options. Hopefully, Jennifer could round them up a bunch of blenders.
Summer was headed toward the checkout area, tossing a bottle of cool blue nail polish and a package of TP into her cart on her way, when she spotted a huge display of red plastic drink cups. Might be a good idea to pick up some of those, too. Less cleanup, and these were recyclable.
She grabbed for the nearest pack at the same time the burly guy next to her did, and his elbow knocked straight through the cardboard display. “Watch it,” he growled, snatching the cups and heading for the chips aisle.
Summer didn’t respond. She was too busy staring at the SuperMart customer on the other side of the display. White jeans, cowboy boots, curvy figure, obvious wig—strawberry blond this time. No rodeo buckle, but she was wearing massive Texas-shaped diamond earrings.
The woman saw her, too, and made a break for the exit doors, squeezing her way through the crowd. Some shoppers seemed confused, and others annoyed—but most were just plain oblivious.
“Trixie, wait!” Summer ditched her cart and took off after her. “I just need to talk to you. It’s me or the police!”
Well, it would be both, actually. No sense in mentioning that now, though.
Lorella’s ex-assistant ignored her and kept on running. Summer had almost caught up with her when Trixie pushed a cart full of screaming, unattended toddlers in her path and ducked past the SuperMart greeter out the sliding doors.
“Hey, get away from my kids!” A woman whirled around with her half-read checkout magazine and grabbed the cart. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Really sorry,” Summer mumbled, ducking into the next aisle and squeezing past the Next Lane Please sign. She had to catch Trixie.
Unfortunately, Ray’s sort-of girlfriend moved faster in those boots than Summer did in her slippery new sandals. By the time Summer reached the parking lot, Trixie was nowhere in sight.
She had to be here somewhere, Summer told herself. No way could she just disappear, with her crazy looks, even in a crowded parking lot.
Wrong. Trixie was gone.
Summer wanted to kick herself for not alerting Security on her way out the door. B
ut the SuperMart employee had been busy checking each and every shopper’s receipts and she’d figured she was better off on her own.
Drat. Maybe, if she drove her car up every aisle in the parking lot, she’d spot Trixie. Or maybe she should zoom to the nearest exit—unfortunately, there were two, she noticed—and wait for the woman to leave.
Trixie had run away as soon as she saw her. That meant she had to be guilty, right? She obviously knew Summer and Dorothy were onto her—about lying to them about her big trip to Montana, anyway. And Trixie had to be aware by now that Lorella was dead. Did she know she was a suspect in her boss’s murder? Probably, if Detective Donovan had shown up looking for her and Ray at that nasty exotic pet store.
Dash was taking a preclub nap in the MINI, oblivious of the pounding techno music on the radio, as Summer jumped in behind the wheel and pushed the ignition.
“Whoa, what’s the deal?” he said, sounding a little dazed as she roared carefully up each section of the parking lot. “Watch out for those two old folks,” he added. “Over there, on the left, And the curved screen TV carton, behind that red pickup.”
“No worries, I’ve got this,” Summer told him. Except she didn’t. She was right back where she’d started. Trixie was gone.
“Call Detective Donovan,” she instructed her cell phone assistant.
This time, he answered, for once. “Trixie didn’t leave town, for sure,” Summer said, skipping the hellos. “I’m at the SuperMart on Blue Heron Boulevard and I just saw her. And…she got away again. I lost her. But this means both she and Ray are definitely hiding out in town. And Trixie’s somewhere around here right now.”
“Thanks for the tip,” the detective said. “But we have a team already on it.” He paused. “Summer, please. Go home, okay? I’ve asked you more than once not to get involved, for your own safety.”
Go home? What was she, a little kid? She clicked off, without bothering to say goodbye. She’d just seen him, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about Trixie, except to say the cops had put out an APB on her. Now they were on alert for two snakes. Or three, if you counted Ray.
Did Donovan’s “team” really know Trixie was here, right this very second? Or was the detective just pretending he even knew for sure Trixie was still in Milano? Well, it didn’t matter. Either way he was a jerk.
Why didn’t he ever take her seriously?
“Hey, are you okay?” Dash asked, wide-awake now. “You look a little…thundery.”
“I’m fine. We’re out of here.” Summer revved the MINI to take them far, far away from SuperMart.
How could she have ever thought Shane Donovan Jr. was remotely attractive? Now she was totally glad he and his grandma were more interested in Jennifer than her. In fact, she was going to scout out another, much better guy for Jennifer. Starting tonight, maybe. The girl deserved a decent boyfriend.
And it was game on for the case, Detective.
Chapter Ten
Dorothy woke from a fitful sleep to the insistent ring of the phone she’d recently had installed next to her bed.
She already regretted that decision, but the woman from the Resident Wellness and Safety staff had recommended a multihandset system, in the highly unlikely case of some unspecified emergency.
“Hi, Dorothy?” a perky voice chirped. “Good morning! It’s Carrie Dunbar. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Not quite,” Dorothy said politely. “What can I do for you, Carrie?”
“Well, thank goodness it’s Friday, right? Book club day! Just wanted to see if there’s anything else you think we’ll need, or anything more Parker and I can do to get the word out.”
Definitely not an emergency. Dorothy wearily rubbed her already throbbing temples. Perhaps a Tylenol or two would be in order for breakfast. “I don’t believe so, Carrie.”
This young woman was going to be very disappointed in today’s resident turnout. If the equally enthusiastic Lorella Caldwell hadn’t succeeded in raising the literary engagement level at Hibiscus Pointe, then really, who could?
It might even—somehow—have cost the librarian her life.
“So Parker’s had a zillion bookmarks printed and we’re bringing a few cartons of books and a bunch of promotional tchotchkes. Do you think that will be enough? I’ve got some cute little chocolates with my website printed on them, but we’ll take those out at the very last minute so they don’t melt in the heat or anything.”
“Oh, that sounds just wonderful, dear,” Dorothy said. And definitely overkill. Goodness, she hoped Georgiana wasn’t going to be miffed that this eager young author was offering so many of her own, extra promotional materials. Would the great GH Hamel feel she was being overshadowed?
No, she assured herself. Discriminating readers would not be swayed by colorful bookmarks and fancy chocolate. They’d make their own book choices, based on literary merit. And Georgiana would understand that, of course.
“Hey, Dorothy!” Summer stepped into the condo, balancing a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee and a bag of pastries, and pulled the key Dorothy had had made for her out of the door lock.
“So sorry, Carrie, I’m afraid I have to go,” Dorothy said as Summer expertly avoided Mr. Bitey’s claws extended from somewhere behind the antique hutch in the living room. “I have a guest. But I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Oh, okay.” Carrie sounded disappointed. “Parker and I will be there early to help set up. Just let me know if you think of anything else for us to do. You have my number, right?”
“I do.” Dorothy tried not to glance at her nightstand, where she’d left the business card she’d used as a bookmark last night. It showed a rather unflattering photo of Carrie—wearing a tiara, no less—beside her contact info. A blurb along the bottom edge of the card read Soon to be the international, bestselling queen of romantic suspense!
That was certainly an attention-getting marketing approach. And perhaps a tad optimistic, at this early stage in her career as an author.
“Don’t you think, Dorothy?”
Oh. Carrie was still talking, and Dorothy hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “Bye now, dear,” she said as she dropped the phone back on its cradle. The young woman probably hadn’t even noticed.
“Carrie again?” Summer wrinkled her nose and set one of the coffee cups down on the nightstand. “It’s way too early to deal with her.”
Dorothy sighed. “I have to agree with you there. I was considering Tylenol for breakfast.”
“Well, I brought you a half-caff latte and a snack, but we have to hurry,” Summer said. “We have some investigating to do.”
“Right now?” Dorothy said, gratefully taking the coffee.
“Yep. As soon as you can get ready, okay?” She handed Dorothy her silky blue dressing gown from the end of the bed. “On my way here, I went up to get the free pastries in my building and I saw a bunch of Hibiscus Pointe staff people cleaning out Trixie’s condo.”
“Are you sure it was hers?” Dorothy headed toward her closet.
Summer took a swig of her triple-shot mocha. “Oh yeah. I’ve been by her place a couple of times, scoping it out in case she came back. But I would have known it was hers anyway. There was a whole bunch of Texas stuff—a big lamp with antlers—and road maps and tons of cans outside the door. Plus Lone Star beer and superhold hair spray.”
“Maybe we could check some of those maps and see if Trixie and Ray marked their route as they were planning their trip,” Dorothy said. “It’s worth a try, anyway.”
“Good idea,” Summer said. “Oh, and do you think I could have a couple of those Tylenol? Dash and I had kind of a crazy night.”
By the time she and Summer made it over to Tower A, the cleaning staff members were nowhere in sight, but Trixie’s door was still open. A rolling cart just outside it in the hall held a supply of trash bags, towels, mops, and cleaning supplies.
“We’ll have to work fast,” Summer said. “They’ll be back. They’re probably just dumpi
ng the trash.”
“There’s still quite a bit of it left,” Dorothy observed, nudging a crumpled pack of Marlboros with the toe of one Aerolite Racer. An odiferous cloud of cheap perfume wafted from a broken, horsehead-shaped bottle on the carpet and a sad trail of rhinestones led into the condo.
“Hey, Dorothy, check this out,” Summer called, from beyond the door.
Dorothy hurried inside to where her sleuthing partner stood over a messy lineup of shopping bags, overflowing with papers.
“Bills, mostly,” Summer said, holding up a handful of pages. “Unpaid ones. They’re all marked ‘Past Due’ and there are a bunch of disconnection notices, too.”
“Goodness,” Dorothy said, rummaging through the bags. From the looks of things, Trixie was indeed in dire financial straits. “How do you suppose she managed to afford this condo?” No doubt she was a renter, but Dorothy didn’t want to mention that, in case Summer’s feelings might be hurt.
Not to mention that financial matters in general were usually something of a sore point for her young friend.
“She didn’t,” Summer said. “There are tons of past due alerts from Hibiscus Pointe here, too. Oh, and yep, here we go. An eviction notice, from two months ago.”
“I wonder whether that’s why Trixie was in such a hurry to leave,” Dorothy said. “It could have had nothing to do with Lorella’s murder.”
“She could have stayed awhile longer, I bet,” Summer said. “It takes months for landlords to actually get rid of you. Unless it’s Joy. Then you’re out in two seconds.”
Dorothy sighed. Her friend was still smarting from her sister’s strong encouragement to move out of their shared home in New Jersey. “Look at the bright side, dear. If you hadn’t come down here to Florida, we wouldn’t have met.”
“True.” Summer bounced over to give her a quick hug. She smelled like coconut, as always, and strawberry lip gloss. Then she broke away and frowned. “But Trixie was getting paid to work at the library, right? She must have started getting a few paychecks, at least. Maybe she promised Hibiscus Pointe she’d pay them back soon.”
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