The Weekenders

by Mary Kay Andrews

  “Follow that car,” Riley said, grinning. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to say that.”

  Parrish pulled away from the curb and did a quick U-turn.

  “That was subtle,” Riley said.

  “It was that or lose sight of the Kia,” Parrish said. She slowed down and hung back by half a block. “You know, following a car without being spotted isn’t as easy as they make it look on TV.”

  “That’s because very few cop shows are set in towns with a population of just under three thousand,” Riley said. “You’re doing fine. If Melody spots us, so what? We had a totally legit reason to be in town, grocery shopping for the holiday weekend.”

  “True,” Parrish agreed. “We’ve even got the Harris Teeter bags to prove it.”

  “Damn,” Riley said, pointing at the Kia. “She’s turning left. She’s headed for the ferry. Guess she’s not planning on leading us to her accomplice. Or the murder weapon. Still, the day wasn’t a total failure. We figured out Melody’s come into a buttload of money recently.”

  “And probably not because she got a bonus from the bank. You want me to turn around and drop you at the car?” Parrish asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll meet you at the ferry. Save me a seat as far away from Melody as possible. And order me a drink, will ya?”

  46

  They’d gotten the text at eleven o’clock the night before.

  No open seats on any flights. Headed back to apt. Sorry.

  “Hey,” Ed said softly. “Parrish. Come on. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “I know,” she said, sniffing. “I’m being stupid. But I can’t help it. I had the whole weekend planned out with the kids.”

  Parrish sat up and reached for a tissue to blow her nose. “I haven’t seen our son in two months, and he’ll be back in school in early August, and then he’ll probably go home with Amanda for Thanksgiving.”

  Ed looked puzzled. “This isn’t like you. Is something else going on that’s making you so emotional?”

  “No! I mean, I guess maybe seeing what all Riley has been going through, first Wendell being murdered, and then all this money stuff. And now the sheriff actually told her she’s a suspect. It just has me thinking about how important family is.”

  “I’m your family,” Ed said, dropping a kiss on her neck. “And I’m sorry David and Amanda had a change of plans, but look—I’m here now, and I’m staying ’til Tuesday.”

  “You are? Really? I thought you had depositions.”

  “One of the associates can take the damn deposition,” Ed said. “Why be senior partner if you can’t delegate authority?”

  “That’s great,” Parrish said.

  “And I’m going to make more of an effort to cut back on all my hours and travel. And I promise not to get myself killed or to bankrupt us. Okay? Will that cheer you up?”

  She punched his chest lightly. “You’re terrible. Don’t even joke about it. I haven’t even told you the latest developments.”

  “Tell me over breakfast,” Ed said, standing and tugging at her hand. “Let’s ride over to the village.”

  * * *

  They got their food and sat at a table by the Mercantile’s front window while Parrish detailed what she and Riley had accomplished the day before. She was careful not to mention their previous raid on Wendell’s office.

  “I don’t like the idea of you two following that woman,” he said, frowning. “What if she figures out you’re stalking her? And Riley needs to be careful about making accusations she can’t prove. If Melody is as smart as you think, what’s to stop her from suing Riley for slander?”

  “You sound like such a lawyer,” Parrish said.

  “I am a lawyer, and so were you, so you know better,” he said. “I thought she was going to hire that woman in Wilmington to represent her.”

  “She was sympathetic, but Riley’s got no money for a retainer,” Parrish said. “So I’m just helping out a little.”

  He looked over his glasses at her. “Have you been studying up on criminal law while I’ve been away?”

  “Eat your breakfast and read your paper,” Parrish said.

  Ed sat at a table in the café, happily devouring his favorite everything bagel with cream cheese and lox, reading the Sports section of The New York Times, while Parrish nibbled at an apricot croissant and leafed through a magazine from the Mercantile’s newsstand.

  “Ed and Parrish! Where have you two been hiding all summer?”

  Parrish knew the voice without looking up, but silently prayed she might be mistaken.

  “Hi, Andrea.” Ed, ever the Southern gentleman, doffed his baseball cap. He gestured at the empty chair at their table. “Would you care to join us?”

  Parrish gave him a swift, vicious kick in the shin.

  “Oh, no, you’re too sweet,” Andrea cooed. “I’m just going to pick up a cake I ordered, and then I have to run. It’s my Thomas’s birthday and we’re having fifteen three-year-olds for his party this afternoon. It’s a Star Wars–themed party, and I’ve got to go home and finish putting together the light sabers. Can you imagine? Total bedlam!”

  “Totally,” Parrish said, turning back to her magazine as though it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

  “Okay, well, toodles,” Andrea said.

  “Toodles,” Parrish said under her breath.

  “What was that kick for?” Ed rubbed his calf absentmindedly.

  “For trying to inflict Belle Isle Barbie on us for one minute more than is absolutely necessary,” Parrish said. “That woman is a pestilence.”

  “That seems kind of harsh,” Ed said, turning back to his newspaper.

  “You and your good manners,” she said, standing. “I’m going to get another cup of tea. Do you want a coffee refill?”

  He held out his mug without looking up. “Thanks.”

  The Mercantile hummed with activity. Shoppers trundled carts across the wooden floors, kids clamored at the candy counter for treats, and the cash registers beeped with a constant flow of purchases. Parrish stood patiently at the counter in the café until Annie Milas came over to take her order.

  “Hey, Parrish,” Annie said, eyeing the empty mugs she held out. “Let’s see, Earl Grey tea for you, French roast for Ed?”

  “You’ve got a great memory,” Parrish said, looking around. “How do you keep everything straight, as busy as you are?”

  “After all those years of teaching school, this is like child’s play,” Annie said. “Is your son here for the weekend?”

  “He and his girlfriend were supposed to be,” Parrish said. “But they canceled at the last minute.”

  “That’s how it is with sons,” Annie said. “Believe me, once there’s a girlfriend in the picture, everything changes.”

  “So I hear. I really envy you, having Nate move back to the island.”

  “I never thought it would happen, after all the years he spent out in California. I liked Cassie, his ex-girlfriend, but she was a city girl, and she always made it clear she had zero interest in hanging around here. Of course I was grateful when Nate came home to be with Joe after he got sick, but I was totally shocked when he announced he wanted to move back here for good.”

  “It must be nice, having him working in the business with you,” Parrish said.

  “It’s been kind of fun, but now he’s got his own business plans, which is fine,” Annie said. “We were kind of getting in each other’s way and, besides, he’s way overqualified to be running a ferry or making ham biscuits here in the café.”

  “I heard Nate bought a big chunk of real estate on the island,” Parrish said innocently. “The scuttlebutt I heard says he’s going to build a big new resort hotel, a bunch of condos and shops on the north end, and a new marina.…”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Annie said. “Nate’s not interested in picking up where Wendell Griggs left off. He’s always loved being outdoors, but I think the years he spent working in California reall
y changed him. He’s got a new appreciation for what we have here on Belle Isle, and he says he intends to make sure any project he undertakes will be sensitive to the environment.” She laughed. “Joe joked that California turned Nate into a total hippy granola head.”

  Annie lowered her voice. “When people hear what he’s trying to do, especially with the old Holtzclaw place? They’re going to be blown away. I’m blown away, and he’s my son.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” Parrish said. “Can you give me a hint?”

  “Nothing’s finalized,” Annie said. “But Nate’s been in Chapel Hill and Morehead City all week, meeting with folks from the Institute of Marine Sciences. He’d kill me if he knew I was talking out of turn like this, but you know how proud mamas are.”

  “I do,” Parrish said. “Is Nate thinking he’ll sell the Holtzclaw property to the university? That land must be worth a bundle. Can the university afford something like that?”

  “Sell it? No. He’s not only going to donate the land, he’s going to build it out, too. The old house will be a dorm and classroom building, and there’ll be a place to dock the boats they use for research, but the center would focus on the fishery and bringing back commercial oystering and crabbing.…” Annie clapped a hand over her mouth. “See? There I go, running my mouth about stuff I’m not supposed to talk about. Nate says I couldn’t keep a secret if my life depended on it. But it just makes me so mad, you know, folks saying he’s going to pave the island and turn it into another Myrtle Beach. People have been making snide comments about it all week, and I’m just fed up.”

  “I’ll bet,” Parrish said.

  “Excuse me, Annie?” The voice was shrill and unmistakable. There she was again, Parrish thought. Belle Isle Barbie, like a toenail fungus that got under your skin and would not go away.

  Andrea Payne thrust a white cardboard cake box at Annie Milas.

  “Look at this cake your baker did,” she said. “I can’t serve this at Thomas’s party. Is that supposed to be Chewbacca?”

  Andrea poked at a lump on the cake. “Look at this, Parrish. It’s hideous!”

  “Looks like Chewie to me,” Parrish said.

  “It looks nothing like Chewbacca,” Andrea cried. “It’s like a big, brown, chocolate turd. And I cannot serve this to those children.” She shoved the box across the top of the display counter at Annie Milas.

  “This is atrocious. And I am not paying for it until you fix it.”

  Annie looked down at the cake. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy, Andrea, but my cake decorator doesn’t work on Saturdays.”

  “You have to fix it,” Andrea insisted. “The party’s in an hour.”

  “All right.” Annie shrugged. She turned around, picked up a plastic spatula, scraped the offending chocolate Chewbacca off the top of the cake, and dropped the mound of chocolate in the prep sink. “Anything else?”

  Andrea stared down at the cake, speechless for all of thirty seconds. “I want my money back.”

  Annie stepped over to the cash register, opened the drawer, and removed two twenty-dollar bills, which she placed in her outraged customer’s outstretched hand. “Happy to be of service.”

  Belle Isle Barbie snatched the cake box from the counter and marched out of the café.

  Annie watched her exit, then glanced over at Parrish, who was trying to choke back a laugh. “There’s just no pleasing some people.”

  “But I notice she took the cake with her,” Parrish said. She heard a polite cough and turned to see that a line was forming at the counter. She paid for her refills and turned to go.

  “Oh Lord,” Annie said worriedly. “I wonder how long that woman was standing there? I hope she didn’t hear any of what we just talked about. Nate hates for other people to get in his business. Even his mama.”

  “I won’t say anything, but I can’t guarantee that she won’t,” Parrish said.

  She hurried back to the table and slid Ed’s coffee in front of him.

  “Where’d you get to?” he asked.

  “Just gathering some intel,” Parrish said. “Are you done with your breakfast? I need to go by Shutters and see Riley.”

  47

  “Mama, please?” Maggy clasped her hands together prayerfully. “Annabelle’s mom says it’s totally cool for me to spend the night over there. She’s, like, a nurse and everything. And that way, you can go to the beach party tonight with Ed and Parrish and not worry about me. Please?”

  “Yes,” Parrish chimed in as she walked in the kitchen door. “You could go to the party with Parrish and Ed tonight. In fact, you must.”

  Riley turned and shot her best friend the death stare. “Who asked you to put your oar in the water?”

  “I did,” Maggy said. She flashed Parrish a hopeful look. “Can you talk to her? She won’t listen to me.”

  “I just think you need to get out of the house tonight and have some fun for once,” Parrish said. “You can’t drape yourself in black and play the sad widow for the rest of your life.”

  “Yeah!” Maggy said.

  “It’s not that,” Riley said. “I don’t feel like being around a big crowd of people who are all going to be talking about me behind my back—‘Poor Riley, bless her heart, lost her husband and her house, blah, blah, blah.’ It gets old, fast.”

  “Oh, grow up,” Parrish said. “I’m sorry to break it to you, sweetie, but you are officially no longer the talk of Belle Isle.”

  “And who is?” Riley offered her friend a blueberry muffin, but Parrish refused.

  “It’s a toss-up between Ginny Cranshaw and Nate Milas. Ginny was on the same ferry as Ed last night. She’s sporting a huge new diamond—at least three carats, and she’s definitely had her eyes done. Word is both the plastic surgery and the rock were a consolation prize from Woody after his latest affair with one of his surgical nurses.”

  “Parrish! Shh!”

  “Too late, Mom. I already know about Dr. Cranshaw,” Maggy said. “Holly said her mom found a bunch of texts from one of his girlfriends on his phone. So gross!” She reached across the table and clutched Riley’s hand. “So can I do it, please?”

  “I’m just not sure,” Riley said. “I’ve never even met Annabelle’s mom.”

  “She’s super nice,” Maggy said. “She took Annabelle all the way to D.C. for the Justin Bieber concert this year.”

  “Well, that definitely qualifies her for mother of the year, in my book,” Riley said. “But you’re still not spending the night with Annabelle until I talk to her super-cool mom and tell her about your diabetes and explain about your food and injections.…”

  “Okay, great. I’ll have her call you when she wakes up.” Maggy jumped up from the table, planted a kiss on Riley’s cheek, hugged Parrish, then dashed out the kitchen door with her backpack in hand.

  “Wait! That wasn’t a yes,” Riley called, but Maggy was already pedaling down the path on her bike.

  Parrish poured herself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the table. “And now you’re free to go to the party with us tonight.”

  “I don’t want to horn in on your time with the kids,” Riley said. “What time did they finally get in last night?”

  “They didn’t. David texted at eleven that they couldn’t get on any flights. It happens sometimes, when you’re flying on a buddy pass. Especially on holiday weekends. Stupid me. I should have just told him to put a ticket on my Amex card.”

  “Oh, Parrish! I know you’re bummed. And after you’d made all those plans, too.”

  “I’ve been crying like a big baby all morning long. Ed thinks I’m a menopausal mess. Which is why I’m glad you can go out with us tonight. I think we both deserve some fun.”

  “I never said I wanted to go,” Riley said. “And I definitely never said I thought it was okay for my daughter to spend the night with a woman whose name I don’t even know, and who apparently doesn’t get up before eleven a.m. on Saturday.”

  “Relax,” Parrish said. “Maggy introd
uced her to me at the pool this week. Her name is Chantelle and she seems perfectly nice.”

  “We’ll see. And, by the way, thanks for meddling in my business.”

  “You’re welcome,” Parrish said. “So, it’s settled. You’re coming tonight.”

  “Nothing is settled,” Riley said. She hesitated. “You said the other hot topic beside Ginny Cranshaw’s facelift is Nate Milas? What’s the latest?”

  “I thought you didn’t care about Nate Milas. Didn’t you tell me you told him to stay away from you and your family?”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what kind of skullduggery he’s up to now,” Riley said. “If it affects this island, it affects me. Now spill it, because I know that’s why you came over here.”

  “Since you insist,” Parrish said impishly. “I had a fascinating conversation with Annie Milas at the Mercantile just now.”

  “Do tell.”

  “She told me Nate’s been in meetings in Chapel Hill and Morehead City all week.”

  “Yippee. Probably lining up his dredging and demo permits.”

  “Actually, he’s putting together plans to turn the Holtzclaw place into some kind of marine fisheries research facility. Annie said he’s donating the land to UNC and building it out with docks for their boats and stuff, and that old house will be turned into classrooms and dorms.…”

  “He’s giving it away?” Riley asked. “You’re sure he’s not selling it?”

  “That’s what Annie said. She said Nate turned into a hippy-dippy conservationist while he was living in California. She was all worked up because she said she’s sick of people insinuating he wants to turn Belle Isle into Myrtle Beach.”

  “Of course she’d defend him and put a positive spin on it. She’s his mom. What else would you expect?” Riley said.

  “You’ve really got it bad for Nate, don’t you?”

  “You’re nuts,” Riley said. “He’s an arrogant ass.”

  “I like him. I’ve always thought he was a decent guy, and this seals the deal as far as I’m concerned. I don’t understand why you’re so suspicious of his motives. As far as I can tell, he wants what you want.”