A Widow in Paradise & Suburban Secrets

by Donna Birdsell

  “Counterfeit?” Dannie had never actually fainted, but she was pretty sure that was about to change.

  “Fake. Copies from a copier. Damned good ones, but fake just the same.”

  Dannie took a slug of her coffee, and held her mug up to signal the waitress to bring more. “Wait a minute. You pay your contractor in cash?”

  Guy stared out the window at the parking lot. “Yeah, well. We have a little arrangement. It’s not exactly…”

  “Legal?”

  “Right. But he’s cheap and he’s good, so I don’t ask too many questions.”

  Dannie dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She leaned in. “Was Lisa…into anything? Drugs or anything like that?”

  “Drugs? No, I don’t think so. She was into men. And the beach, and clothes and shoes. But drugs? No.”

  Dannie stared out the window at the traffic speeding past.

  Guy tapped his fingertips on the table. “Listen, I just have a feeling they’re together. With my money. And I need to find her, because I need to get that money back.”

  “To pay for your salon?”

  “Day spa,” he corrected.

  “Why don’t you just hire a private investigator?”

  Guy shook his head. “I don’t have that kind of money. Do you?”

  “No.” Not real money, anyway.

  “I’m going down to Cuatro Blanco to look for her. I’m using my frequent flyer miles, and I have enough to get you a ticket, too, if you want to go with me.”

  “Why in God’s name would I want to do that?” she said.

  “To help me look for them. With two of us, we could cover more ground. You’d know where to look for Roger. What he likes to do, places he’d most likely go.”

  “How about the bottom of the ocean?” she said. “Because that’s where he is.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Oh, jeez. Don’t cry, all right? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “What did you think would happen? That I’d be thrilled to hear someone tell me he thinks my husband faked his death to get away from me?” She filched a tissue from her purse and blew her nose.

  “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. A little dose of reality.”

  “Well, thanks.” She tossed her tissue onto her plate. “I almost confused my life with paradise, what with four kids to support on minimum wage, the insurance company that won’t pay up and the two-hundred-year-old house falling down around me that I can’t sell because I still haven’t received a death certificate from the Caribbean Keystone Cops.” Her voice had risen almost to a pitch that could be heard only by dogs. “I really needed a dose of reality.”

  “I’m sorry,” Guy said. And he looked as if he meant it. “I guess it’s been a difficult time for you since your husband’s…”

  “Death.”

  “Right. Forgive me.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and threw two tens on the table. “I hope everything works out okay for you.”

  And then he just walked away, leaving Dannie alone with half a lumberjack’s breakfast and an ache in her chest that felt as if she’d just lost Roger all over again.

  AS SOON AS DANNIE GOT HOME, she ran up to the closet and found Roger’s duffel bag from the gym. She ripped open the zipper and dumped the contents out onto the floor of the closet.

  The odor from Roger’s eight-month-old sweaty socks hit her like a frying pan to the face. When she recovered from the smell, she examined the pile.

  Shorts. T-shirt. Sneakers. Deodorant. Hairbrush. Mouthwash. A receipt for bottled water from the juice bar.

  With a phone number written on the back.

  She grabbed her cordless phone and scrolled through the numbers in the caller ID box.

  Dear God.

  The number on the receipt matched the last one on her phone—G. Loughran.

  Dannie stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen and poured herself a tumbler of scotch. A very large tumbler. Then she went out onto the patio and called Lyle.

  “Tell me what he said again, exactly.”

  Lyle grilled her on the other end of the connection as Dannie lay on a lounge chair with a damp towel over her eyes, trying to get rid of the persistent headache she’d had since her meeting with Guy Loughran.

  It was a warm October day, and she should have been getting some work done around the house before her in-laws brought the kids home. Quincy lay beside her, drool pooling on the flagstone beneath his mouth.

  “It’s not even worth repeating,” Dannie said to Lyle. “He’s crazy. To think Roger’s still alive, abandoning his kids like that. It’s insane.”

  “Absolutely,” Lyle said. “Still, maybe you should go down there. Try to get the authorities to issue you a death certificate. It’s the only way you’re going to get the insurance company to pay you.”

  “I wish I’d gone down there when Roger died.”

  “Dano, we talked about that. Your lawyer and I agreed there was nothing you could do there. You were needed more here.”

  It was true. The twins had been so young, and still nursing. It would have been hard to leave them. And, of course, she’d had to plan a memorial service. Roger had been well liked around town. People expected something nice.

  Dannie took the towel off her eyes, blinking against the blinding sun. “What am I going to do with the kids, and Quincy? I can’t just hop on a plane.”

  “Sure you can. Your in-laws could watch them for a couple of days.”

  “Elizabeth hates Quincy.”

  “Well, I’ll watch him for you. Or maybe I should come with you.”

  “Come with me?”

  “Yeah.” Lyle hesitated. “Dannie, this whole thing stinks. The counterfeit thing. The authorities dragging their feet on the death certificate. I don’t know about you, but I would love some answers. The sooner the better, too.”

  Dannie could picture Lyle’s face, puckered into a frown, the tiny lines forming on his forehead above his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “You’d really go with me?”

  “Of course. Roger meant the world to me. You do, too. I want to help you. I’m your friend.”

  And I want to be more.

  Lyle’s unspoken words hung in the dead air of the phone connection. Dannie knew his feelings. He’d confessed them to her once, when they’d both had a little too much wine.

  “Lyle…”

  “No strings. I’ll get on the phone right now and get us some tickets. Okay?”

  Dannie sighed. “I’ll talk to Elizabeth when she brings the kids back today.”

  IT HADN’T BEEN HARD TO convince her in-laws to take the kids again. And her friend Cecilia had come through in a pinch to take Quincy. Although Cecilia had looked just a tiny bit terrified when Dannie had shown up with him.

  Now, less than twenty-four hours after she’d met Guy Loughran at Myrna’s, she was standing in the Philadelphia International Airport, on her way to the island where her husband had drowned.

  “How much did you have to pay for these tickets?” Dannie asked as she and Lyle stood in line at the Air Caribbean ticket counter early Sunday morning. “They must have been expensive on such short notice.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m going to pay you back.” She had no idea how, but she would.

  “I know you will.” Lyle threw his arm around her shoulder and gave her a brotherly hug. “Let’s just hope we can accomplish something while we’re there. We have a little less than two days. I have to be back to work on Tuesday.”

  Lyle was the regional manager for an office supply company, a job that had him traveling two or three days a week. Dannie was sure the last thing he wanted to do was spend half his long weekend on a plane.

  “You’re sweet,” Dannie said, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “You know, I never asked you. You’re a member of the Main Street Gym, too. Did you know Lisa Loughran?”

  Lyle
shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “I’m not sure. I guess I’d have to see a picture of her.” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to Dannie. “Why don’t you stock up on magazines and gum while I check our luggage?”

  “Okay.”

  She’d let him off the hook this time. She knew he was caught in the middle, not wanting to be disloyal to Roger’s memory.

  Men would always stick together, even when death do them part. They were more faithful to each other than to their wives.

  Dannie turned around, bumping into a dark-haired woman in big black sunglasses.

  “Going to Cuatro Blanco?” the woman asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I hear it’s beautiful. Have you ever been there before?”

  “No. This will be my first time.”

  The woman gave her a little smile. “Have fun.”

  Dannie headed for the newsstand, but stopped short. Guy Loughran stood near the magazine rack, thumbing through a copy of Cosmopolitan.

  His blond hair was gelled into spikes in the front, and he wore a long-sleeved pink oxford shirt—what was with him and pink shirts?—and jeans. In profile, his nose looked perfectly straight. He chewed on his lower lip as he read.

  Dannie didn’t know if she wanted to punch him or kiss him.

  She sidled up next to him, but he was so absorbed in the magazine that he didn’t notice her.

  “Good article?” she said.

  He looked up, startled. “Mrs. Treat!”

  “Call me Dannie.” She pointed to the magazine. “Do you read Cosmo often?”

  “All the time. I have a subscription, but I didn’t get to read this issue yet.”

  Not a hint of embarrassment. She wondered what in the world could possibly threaten a man’s masculinity more than reading about managing PMS.

  She shook her head, reaching past him for the latest issue of Sports Illustrated.

  “Do you read Sports Illustrated often?” he countered.

  “It’s not for me. It’s for a friend.”

  “Sure it is.” He grinned, that sexy little dimple appearing on the side of his mouth. Dannie’s heart nearly stopped.

  She had to get away from this man. This infuriating, irritating, annoyingly attractive man. But just then, Lyle materialized behind her. “Hey. I couldn’t get two seats together, but they’re close.”

  “Lyle.” Dannie hooked her elbow through his. “This is Guy Loughran. Guy, this is Lyle Faraday. He was a good friend of my husband’s.”

  “And a good friend of Dannie’s,” Lyle said, proffering his hand.

  Guy shook it. “Nice to meet you.” He turned back to Dannie. “What are you doing here? Did you change your mind? Are you going to Cuatro Blanco?”

  “We’re going to Cuatro Blanco,” Lyle said. “I convinced Dannie that she needs to go, to settle things once and for all.”

  Guy gave a half smile. “I take it you don’t believe Roger is alive, either.”

  “Not a chance,” Lyle said.

  Guy shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” He took his Cosmo and headed for the check-out line.

  “So that’s the guy you met yesterday?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He’s big.”

  “Yep.”

  “He reads Cosmopolitan?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “What a fruitcake.”

  Dannie opened her mouth to protest, but what could she say? The man wore pink shirts. He talked to hostesses about manicures. He wanted to open a beauty parlor. He read Cosmopolitan, and didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by any of it.

  He was a man truly in touch with his feminine side, which made him insanely appealing. She didn’t need to witness the drooling looks he got from every female under the age of a hundred to realize that.

  She snagged a Vanity Fair from the magazine rack for herself. “Come on. I need some chocolate.”

  Chapter Five

  AS IT TURNED OUT, Dannie had a window seat beside Guy on the plane, while Lyle sat directly behind them.

  Lyle poked his head around Guy’s seat and talked over him, addressing Dannie. “Everything okay up here?”

  “Don’t worry, man. I’m not going to attack her,” Guy said.

  “I wasn’t suggesting you would,” Lyle said. “But Dannie doesn’t like to fly.”

  “Really?” Guy turned to her. “Why not?”

  “It’s a control issue,” she said.

  Guy nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Guy flipped through the pages of his Cosmo. “You seem like the controlling type.”

  “I am not the controlling type! Far from it. Tell him, Lyle.”

  “She’s not the controlling type,” Lyle said.

  “Okay.”

  Dannie opened her mouth to give Guy a piece of her mind, then snapped it shut. What was the point? She slouched down in her seat.

  “So what sort of things did your husband like to do?” Guy asked her.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just looking for a jumping-off point.”

  Dannie huffed. “He’s not alive.”

  Guy shrugged.

  Lyle leaned around Guy’s seat again. “Dannie, do you want your magazine?”

  “The Sports Illustrated?” Guy said.

  “That’s mine,” Lyle said.

  “Really?” Guy sounded as if he might not believe this.

  “Lyle is a huge sports fan,” Dannie said.

  “Huh,” Guy said. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lyle’s face turned red.

  Dannie reached across Guy and took her magazine from Lyle, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Thanks.”

  Lyle sat back in his seat, but Dannie knew he was fuming. An image of him as the skinny little guy in the back of the comic books she used to read when she was a kid popped into her head. The guy who always got sand kicked in his face.

  She gave Guy a nasty look, but he was too engrossed in an article about the pros and cons of bikini waxing to notice.

  The pilot’s voice filtered out from the overhead speakers.

  “Good morning, passengers. I hope you’re enjoying your flight. At this time we’re working with the FAA to chart a different course to Cuatro Blanco, due to a tropical storm picking up strength over the western Caribbean.”

  Dannie sat up straight in her seat.

  Lyle leaned forward, peering around Guy to give her a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. This happens all the time.”

  The pilot continued. “Please pay attention to your flight attendants as they explain some important safety precautions.”

  A few minutes later a pretty flight attendant with red hair and long legs began the safety orientation, which most of the other passengers ignored. But not Guy, Dannie noticed with some satisfaction. His eyes were riveted on the flight attendant.

  He was afraid, too! He just didn’t want to admit it.

  Dannie glanced out the window. If the plane went down, was there any chance a floating seat cushion would save her? Jesus, she hated the ocean.

  When the flight attendant finished her spiel, Guy waved her over.

  “I couldn’t help but notice your hair color,” he said. “Is that a henna rinse?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is! How did you know?”

  “He’s opening his own hair salon,” Dannie said bitterly.

  “Day spa,” Guy corrected.

  The flight attendant, who introduced herself as Bunny, crouched down beside Guy’s seat. He ran his fingers through the ends of her hair, suggesting a treatment for her dry ends, complimenting her on her makeup.

  She pulled a pen out of the pocket of her jacket and wrote a phone number on Guy’s hand. “I’ll be in Cuatro Blanco overnight. Here’s my cell number if you want to get together.”

  She gave him a little wave a
s she went off to serve beverages.

  Lyle poked his head around the back of Guy’s seat again. “Do you need anything, Dannie?”

  Lord, yes. She needed sugar. Desperately. “I’ll take a candy bar.”

  Lyle handed it to Guy to pass to her, but Guy held it just out of her reach. “I have an extra granola bar, if you’d rather have that.”

  “I don’t think so.” She grabbed the chocolate.

  Guy shook his head. “If I were you, I wouldn’t eat that.”

  “Why don’t you leave her alone?” Lyle said. “She’s a big girl. She can make her own decisions.”

  Guy shrugged. “Whatever. But eating sugar and drinking alcohol while you’re flying is going to give you a headache.”

  TURNED OUT GUY WAS RIGHT. Dannie did have a headache when they landed, but she suspected it was mostly because of the turbulence. That, and Guy and Lyle bickering through most of the flight.

  When they disembarked in Cuatro Blanco, the tarmac was little more than a narrow strip of black in the middle of a sea of sand, worn shiny by airplane tires and the shoes of tourists eager to start their Caribbean vacations.

  It was hot. Ungodly so. And humid beyond anything Dannie had ever experienced in Philadelphia, which was really saying something.

  By the time they reached the tiny airport terminal, Dannie wanted nothing more than to peel her clothes off and stand naked in front of an air conditioner. Too bad the one in the terminal wasn’t working.

  The place bordered on chaotic as tourists, natives and small farm animals jostled for space against the walls while golf carts pulling flatbed wagons piled with luggage inched toward the baggage claim area.

  A television bolted to the wall near a waiting area showed a weather map in motion. The big green swirl that had formed off the coast of Florida the day before had moved west across the Caribbean, and now lingered near the tip of Cuba.

  Little green ovals dotted the blue expanse of ocean.

  “Which of those islands is Cuatro Blanco?” Dannie asked Lyle, pointing at the screen.