A Widow in Paradise & Suburban Secrets

by Donna Birdsell

  Everyone in the place greeted him at once.

  Guy’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “It couldn’t be.”

  “It seems unlikely,” Dannie said, afraid to hope.

  “There are probably fifty Pacos on this island.”

  “At least.”

  Guy wiped his mouth. “Thing is, he does seem to know everybody.”

  Dannie nodded. “Fernando said he knew everybody.”

  “It has to be him.”

  “Give me Lisa’s picture,” Dannie said. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Turned out it was him. The Paco they’d been looking for.

  Sometimes life pelted you with lemons, then topped them off with a nice, fluffy meringue.

  Paco said he knew the lady in the picture. Lisa Lewellyn. She’d taken surfing lessons from one of the guys at The Tiki, and hung out on a beach not far from there. In fact, he’d seen her there just the day before.

  He gave them directions to the beach.

  Dannie and Guy thanked him and paid for his lunch before heading out to the moped.

  Dannie handed Guy the picture of Lisa, and he looked at it for a few moments before sticking it back into his wallet.

  “You miss her?” Dannie asked quietly.

  Guy sighed. “I don’t miss her as much as I miss what I hoped to have with her. You know?”

  Dannie knew.

  She’d envisioned a life of togetherness with Roger—coffee on the patio, family bike rides, picnics by the lake—that never materialized. Not that she had expected it all to be perfect, just…happier. She knew exactly how Guy felt.

  She climbed onto the back of the moped, wrapping her arms around Guy’s waist, pressing her cheek to his back. In many ways, he was the kindred spirit she’d always hoped Roger would be. She felt a wave of sadness that her time with him might soon be over.

  Who knew what would happen when they found Lisa.

  THE BEACH PACO sent them to was hardly more than a football field long, but it was packed. It was obviously the place to be.

  Bodies lay side by side on towels like pastels in a box. Children splashed in the surf as their parents lounged on the sand, thumbing through the pages of gossip magazines and the latest spy thrillers.

  Umbrellas dotted the landscape like striped mushrooms popping up in a garden of suntanned flesh.

  Dannie surveyed the scene with dismay. “How are we ever going to find her here?”

  “You start at one end, and I’ll start at the other. If you see anybody that looks remotely like her, wave. Most of these people are Cuatro Blancans. With her fair skin and red hair, she should be easy to spot.”

  “Okay,” Dannie said. “We’ll meet in the middle near that purple-and-white-striped umbrella.”

  Guy cut left, Dannie right. She started at the far end of the beach, where rocks and rough surf made swimming and sunbathing impossible. She snaked her way through the crowd, dodging sand castles and fat, hairy men in Speedos.

  She tried to get close enough to everyone to rule them out, but much like the ocean, a beach crowd was a fluid thing, always moving and shifting.

  Out on the water, fishing charters dotted the deep blue seascape, their white hulls and chrome reflecting the afternoon sun.

  For some reason the name Randy Jarvis popped into Dannie’s head. Judy Finch, the insurance investigator, had mentioned it, but Dannie hadn’t been able to place it.

  Now it niggled at the back of her mind.

  She shaded her eyes, peering out over the water.

  Randy Jarvis. Randy…

  Jarvis! He was the host of one of the fishing shows Roger used to watch. Big Game Fishing with Randy.

  How in God’s name would an insurance investigator know about that? And why would she care?

  It seemed as if every piece of the puzzle to this mystery just led to more pieces.

  And every lead led to a dead end.

  She’d made it to the middle of the beach with no sign of Lisa. Guy was nearing the middle as well, his bright pink shirt a beacon against the white sand. The way he picked his way through the sunbathers told her all she needed to know.

  He’d had no luck, either.

  They met and walked to the edge of the water. Kicking off their shoes, they waded into the surf up to their knees to cool off.

  “Now what?” Dannie asked.

  Guy stared out into the waves. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if she shows up. I don’t want to pass her picture around too much, in case she gets wind of it and gets spooked.”

  “Good point. I hope that hasn’t happened already.”

  “That was a chance we had to take, right? I mean, we had to at least know where to start looking.”

  Dannie nodded. “Too bad we didn’t bring a towel or something. It could be a long wait.”

  Guy grabbed her arm. “Maybe not as long as we think. Look.” He pointed to a woman on the far end of the beach, near the rocks where Dannie had begun her search.

  “Is that her?”

  Guy squinted. “I think so.”

  “Let’s get closer.”

  Guy held Dannie’s hand, as much for a sense of support as for show, Dannie suspected.

  The woman stood a few feet away from the surf behind a small pile of rocks, the breeze from the water blowing her cover-up away from her like a superhero cape flying in the breeze. The Incredible Body.

  Her sunglasses covered more territory than her bathing suit, and she didn’t have an ounce of fat on her.

  Dannie tugged her own shorts as far down on her thighs as possible. “Well?”

  Guy’s jaw was tight. “It’s her.”

  “I don’t know how I missed her,” Dannie said.

  They quickened their pace.

  Lisa had gathered up her things and was making her way up a path through the rocks. They reached the path just as she climbed into a small red car with a white roof.

  Guy pulled Dannie by the arm. “The moped!”

  But they were parked clear at the other end of the beach.

  They ran until they were breathless, reaching the moped in two minutes. Still, Dannie feared they weren’t quick enough. By the time they passed the parking area near the south end of the beach, Lisa’s little red car was gone.

  “She didn’t pass us, so she must have gone in the opposite direction,” Guy shouted over his shoulder. “Maybe she’s still on the main road.”

  He pushed the moped to its limit, taking the turns on the road like a motocross racer. Dannie clung to him for dear life.

  Soon they spotted Lisa’s car in the distance, slowed by heavy traffic. There were several cars and a bus between them. A bus that seemed to stop at the corner of every side street and alley on the island.

  “Come on,” Guy complained when the bus stopped for the tenth time.

  It was impossible to pass without risking certain death. And it was impossible to see around the big pink bus. By the time they were moving again, Lisa’s car was gone.

  They drove for a while without any luck, leaving the main road to putter past a row of cute little shops.

  When they passed a place called Tienda de Empeño, Dannie smacked Guy’s arm. “Look!”

  It was Lyle, in yellow Bermuda shorts and a white golf shirt, carrying a paper grocery bag as he hurried down the steps of the shop. He hopped into a waiting taxi, and it sped off. Guy tried to follow, but he couldn’t work his way into the endless flow of traffic on the main road. Apparently it was rush hour in Cuatro Blanco.

  Like Lisa’s red car, in a few minutes Lyle’s cab disappeared, too.

  Guy turned the moped around and pulled into a space in front of the building Lyle had come out of.

  “It’s a pawnshop,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because ‘Tienda de Empeño’ means ‘pawnshop.’”

  “Oh.”

  “Maybe we should see what he sold,” Guy said.

  “Or bought. He was carrying a bag.”r />
  They ran up the steps and hurried into the shop, kicking up a swirl of dust motes in their wake.

  An old woman sat knitting behind a glass case that held an odd assortment of wares—jewelry, tools, cell phones, china. She squinted up at them from her chair.

  Guy spoke to her in Spanish, and she gestured to the end of the glass case.

  Dannie and Guy walked down there.

  “What? The false teeth?” Dannie asked.

  Guy translated.

  “No, no!” The woman limped down to the end of the case and pointed.

  “Uh-oh,” Dannie said.

  Guns. Piled up in a cardboard box as if they were toys at a toy store.

  “¿El compró un arma?”

  The old woman nodded.

  “He bought a gun,” Guy said to Dannie.

  “Oh, no.” Dannie’s palms started to sweat. What in the hell did Lyle need with a gun? Did he even know how to shoot one?

  “I think we have to assume the worst,” Guy said. “If Lyle was looking for Lisa and now he bought a gun, he must be going after her.”

  “No! Lyle would never do that,” Dannie said.

  “Are you sure?” Guy’s gaze was steady, but tense. “Because if you’re wrong, it really could be a matter of life and death.”

  Dannie hesitated only a second. “Let’s go find him.”

  Guy gave the old woman some money, and he and Dannie ran back out to the moped.

  “Which way?” Dannie said.

  “I think we should drive through all the neighborhoods near the beach where we found Lisa. I would think she’d live nearby if she goes there.”

  Dannie nodded. She couldn’t even speak. Things had gotten so strange it was as if they were caught in a bad, bad dream.

  They sped back toward the beach. The traffic had lightened considerably, so it took only minutes to locate the beach again. Since the strip of land between the beach and the main road was narrow, there were no houses on that side road. Just beach and rock and more beach.

  “We’ll start north and work our way south,” Guy said. “You keep an eye out for Lisa’s car.”

  He turned left into a neighborhood of small cinder-block houses painted in pastel colors, each sporting white shutters and doors. They motored slowly through the streets. There were red cars aplenty, but none with a white roof.

  They made their way painstakingly through a half-dozen neighborhoods just like it, with the same results. Dannie’s rear end was numb. Guy slumped over the handlebars of the moped.

  Dannie was just about to suggest they take a break when she spotted a red car with a white roof outside a neat, white-shingle bungalow with green shutters. She squeezed Guy’s arm and pointed. “Over there.”

  Guy drove slowly past the house, pulling over when they’d rounded the corner.

  “Looks like her car,” Dannie said.

  Guy swiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “We have to get a closer look.”

  “Stay here,” Dannie said. “I’ll walk past and check things out.”

  Guy looked as if he might argue.

  “She doesn’t know me,” Dannie said. “If she sees you, she might take off.”

  He exhaled. “All right. But be careful.”

  Guy kept his eyes glued on her as she walked around the corner.

  She tried to appear as if she were out for a casual walk. She tried to whistle, but her mouth was too dry. Then again, whistling might have been overkill anyway.

  She counted her steps.

  One hundred eighty-eight, one hundred eighty-nine…

  The car was parked in a narrow driveway beside the house, which boasted a neatly trimmed yard in the back, littered with lawn ornaments—whirligigs, birdbaths, a big black kettle overflowing with bougainvillea. If the phrase “Like mother, like daughter” held any water, this had to be the place.

  Dannie’s suspicions were all but confirmed when she saw the sticker in the back window of the car.

  Casually she turned back toward the corner, picking up the pace when she was out of sight of the house.

  “Well?” Guy looked nervous.

  He actually looked ill.

  “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s her place,” Dannie said. “She’s got lawn crap all over. And a sticker for Fernando’s Dive Shop in the rear window of the car.”

  “It’s gotta be her.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “So what should we do?” he said. Clearly he was in no shape to take charge.

  “I think we should approach the house from the rear,” Dannie said. “Try to get a look in one of the windows, just to be sure.”

  “Right.”

  They went around to the opposite side of the block, cutting through the yard that abutted Lisa’s. In the grand tradition of seventies cop shows, they ran in a crouch until they were directly below an open window on the side of the house. Guy pointed up, and they slowly stood until they could see in.

  The television was on, tuned in to a rerun of Hawaii Five-O, but no one was in the room. As they peered through the window, the doorbell rang.

  “You gonna get that?” A woman’s voice, coming from the back of the house.

  Dannie looked at Guy. He nodded.

  Suddenly a man rose into their line of sight, scaring the crap out of Dannie and Guy. He’d obviously been sitting on a couch beneath the window.

  Bleach-blond hair, wrinkled red T-shirt. Baggy shorts hung on his hips. Dannie would bet he had a beard and earring, too.

  He carried a beer in one hand, the remote control in the other as he shuffled in bare feet through the small living room toward the front door.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “What?” the blond guy barked.

  “I’m looking for Randy Jarvis,” said a voice through the door.

  Randy Jarvis? The fishing show host?

  The guy muttered under his breath, taking another swig of his beer before reaching for the doorknob. Before he could turn it, the door burst open.

  Lyle stood framed in a rectangle of afternoon sun, holding the paper sack he’d carried out of Tienda de Empeño.

  Angry Man with Gun in Bag.

  Lyle pushed his way into the living room. “Where is she?”

  The blond guy yelped, and backed away.

  Lyle ripped open the bag and pulled out the gun. “I said where is she?”

  “No!” Dannie shouted through the window. “Lyle, stop!”

  Lyle looked up at the window, startled.

  The blond guy’s head whipped around. “Dannie?”

  She’d guessed right. He did have a beard. And an earring. But there was one thing about him that was completely unexpected.

  “Roger.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  SHE’D SPOKEN HIS NAME in a whisper, but she’d meant it as a scream.

  Guy grabbed her around the waist, obviously afraid she was going to faint again. But the danger of that was slim.

  She wasn’t faint. She was furious.

  Dannie stormed around the side of the house and through the open front door, pushing past Lyle until she reached Roger.

  “You son of a bitch!” She took a swing, but Guy was right behind her. He grabbed her arm before her fist connected with Roger’s face.

  “Can’t you turn down that TV—” Lisa rounded the corner and stopped short. “Holy sh—”

  “Everybody sit down!” Lyle waved the gun wildly.

  Nobody sat down.

  “Goddamn it, I said sit down, all of you!”

  “Hey, calm down, man,” Guy said, moving toward Lyle.

  “Don’t ‘man’ me, you hairstyling freak. I said sit down.” Lyle pointed the gun at Guy’s chest.

  Guy held up his hands and sat on the floor.

  Roger and Lisa followed suit.

  “Lyle, please,” Dannie said. “Give me the gun.”

  “Sit down, Dano. I’m running the show this time.”

  Dannie sat on the rug between Roger and G
uy.

  “Good. Great.” Lyle pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was sweating like a cold can of beer on the beach. “Each of you is going to get a chance to answer for what you did. And I think we’re gonna start with…you.”

  He pointed the gun at Roger.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, old friend?”

  Roger was silent.

  “What, all of a sudden you can’t talk? Well, I’ll start for you. How about, ‘Hey, Lyle. I’m really sorry I stole Lisa. I’m sorry I stole your fake money, and your big idea, and your goddamned life.”

  “Lyle, it wasn’t like that. I needed—”

  “Shut up,” Lyle snapped. “It’s always been about what you need. Well, now it’s about what I need.”

  “Listen,” said Roger. “If it’s any consolation, Lisa is no prize. She ran through all the money. All she does is gripe all day. It’s like being married all over again.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Dannie said.

  Roger turned to her. “I didn’t mean it that way—”

  “I said shut up.” Lyle pointed the gun at Dannie. “And you. You’re nothing but a tease. We could have been good together, but you had to fall for Mr. Hair Salon.”

  “Day spa,” Dannie and Guy said at the same time.

  “You and Dannie?” Roger said incredulously. “You sure didn’t waste any time moving in on her, did you, friend?”

  “I thought you were dead,” Lyle said. “At least until your wife found my golf bag in your garage.”

  “I’m sorry, Lyle. I had to do it,” Roger said.

  “You had to do it? It took me months to plan this thing, and then you just step in and take it all. Twenty years of friendship, and you screw me for some gym whore. Well, guess what? I’m screwing you now. I went to Jimmy Duke when I figured out you were still alive. He told me if I can get the books you kept on him, he’ll pay me well. So you’re going to tell me where they are, because I may not have gotten the girl, but I’m going to get the money.”

  Roger shook his head. “I can’t do it. Those books are the only insurance I have that Duke won’t kill me.”

  “What makes you so sure he won’t?”

  “Because I’m the only one who knows where they are. If he kills me, he’ll never know where or when they might turn up.”

  Lyle turned the gun on Lisa. “What about you? What do you have to say?”