Gallagher put his right hand over his heart. "I'm impressed."
"This is pretty good," Connie said, holding up the half-emptied cup. "I think I feel the energy kicking in already. Do you sell them next door?"
"We do offer them, but we don't sell a lot. We attract more of an adult beverage type crowd. But I keep them on the menu to give people a healthy option. I like to keep fit, and they help me get those extra nutrients for my workouts."
"Well, I'll certainly be coming by for another," Connie said.
After chatting for a few minutes, Gallagher excused himself so he could help his staff prepare for the dinner rush, and Connie and Grace locked up shop. It was a little after 3:00 PM, and Connie was thrilled to have the rest of the day to herself. It would be a much-needed reprieve in the middle of a busy several months, and the warm sun and saltwater were beckoning.
The year-round sunshine of southwest Florida was one of the factors that had always attracted Connie to the area, even while her aunt was still alive. She would often try to get away in February or March, even if only for a long weekend, for that cherished dose of vitamin D.
After completing her one-mile commute down Sapphire Beach Boulevard, Connie parked in her designated spot in the underground garage. She climbed the stairs to the luxurious lobby of Palm Paradise and made her way across the marble floor to check her mailbox. Just bills and junk mail. Then she stopped to say a quick hello to Jessica, the condo management representative who kept on-site office hours, and went up to her condo, where she received a hero's welcome from Ginger. After taking her for a long walk, Connie changed into her bathing suit.
She felt slightly guilty about leaving Ginger again, but she couldn’t leave the dog unattended on the beach while she swam. "Don't worry, sweet girl, I won't be long, and tomorrow you get to come to the shop with me."
It was Connie's favorite time of day for a swim. Although the sun was no longer at its peak, it still shone strongly in the sky. She followed the cement pathway that brought her from the main entrance to the lobby around to the back of the building, past the pool area, and onto the silky white sands of Sapphire Beach.
Connie spread her towel across the soft sand and sat with her face turned toward the warmth of the sun. As she watched a paddle boarder glide along the coast, Connie promised herself she would purchase her own board as soon as possible. Ever since Elyse introduced her to the sport in January, she was hooked. But for now, a swim would do just fine.
She chuckled to herself thinking of Elyse's not-so-subtle attempts to convince her to relocate to Sapphire Beach instead of going with her original plan to sell her aunt's condo. I guess Elyse got the last laugh on that one.
Connie waded into the water until she was hip deep, then leaned back, as though falling into a giant green pillow. She side-stroked her way to the swimmers' lane, where she could swim some laps without bothering those splashing around near the shore.
When she got a little way out, Connie switched to the crawl stroke. Focusing only on the sound of her breathing and the cool water against her body, she tuned out everything else. Within a few minutes, her head began to clear, and her body relaxed. The reaching motion of the crawl stroke stretched the muscles in her arms and torso, stiff from all the cleaning and unpacking. After about twenty minutes of swimming, she rolled onto her back and allowed the waves to carry her back to shore.
She wasn't quite ready to get out, so she sat in the shallow water and let the gentle waves crash over her body. It didn't take long for her thoughts, like wood floating on a gentle wave, to drift towards Natasha.
Connie couldn't help but feel a connection to the young mother. Perhaps it was because they each pursued a dream that led them to the same shop in Sapphire Beach - Natasha as a boutique owner who wanted a better life for her baby daughter, and Connie as a jewelry maker who believed she could provide a better life for families in developing countries by selling their creations.
Or maybe Connie was just letting sentimentality get the best of her. After all, Victoria's father said that Natasha struggled with addiction, and he had concerns that she was using again. And Mickey had found a drug needle in the bushes behind the shop.
But that was only circumstantial evidence. It could have belonged to anyone who decided to hide behind the shops after hours to do drugs.
Judging from Natasha's diary, Connie saw no indications of anything beyond a mother who would do whatever it took to give her child a good life. She even apparently fled from something in her past to protect her daughter. Connie wondered if Victoria's father was part of what she had run from. If he was, and it had been as bad as her diary indicated, then nothing he said could be trusted.
Then there was Natasha's accountant, Tracy, with whom she had had some type of confrontation shortly before her disappearance. Was that connected to the accounting ledger Natasha kept? According to Natasha's records, she was turning a pretty good profit. So, if not because of drugs, then why was she late with her rent, as Mickey had said? Maybe Natasha confronted Tracy, and the encounter went bad.
Or it could be something else altogether. Connie just had too little to go on. But one thing she did know: there were too many unanswered questions to assume she ran away.
At least she had Tracy's contact information. Maybe she could learn something by talking to her. And Gallagher seemed friendly. Being right across the street, perhaps he had some insight.
Satisfied that she had had enough of the water for one day, and not wanting to leave Ginger alone much longer, Connie toweled off and went back upstairs. She heated up some leftovers and relaxed on the couch for the rest of the evening.
***
On Saturday morning, Connie woke up refreshed from her afternoon off and headed straight into the shop with Ginger in tow. Since she would mostly be unpacking boxes of displays and jewelry, Connie had insisted that Grace take the day off. She had already been more than generous with her time.
Ginger loved her doggie area, which contained her bed, a few toys, and bowls for water and food. Connie had strategically placed it near the storage room, so that if Ginger wished to escape from the activity of the shop, she could hide out there, or if she preferred, she would be free to roam about.
Pulling up her favorite playlist on her phone for ambiance, Connie got to work opening boxes and spreading their contents on various product shelves throughout the store. She had photos of her artisans and landscapes of the countries where they lived. The artisans were a huge part of the shop, and since they couldn't be there in person, she wanted to make sure their photos had a prominent spot. Which reminded her, she needed to make sure Steve or Brittany came back to hang them up. She pulled out her phone and shot Steve a text.
Then she unpacked some small handwoven baskets and carved wooden statues of animals she had chosen from her Kenyan collection and arranged them haphazardly between the jewelry displays in the Fair Trade section. Once the shelves were stocked with jewelry, she'd take more time to accessorize them, but for now she just wanted to empty the boxes.
By late morning, Connie was ready for a break. Reaching into her pocket, she fished out the piece of paper with Tracy's phone number and address. Now was as good a time as any.
Chapter 5
Tracy worked from an office in her home, so even though it was Saturday, Connie hoped she might still be there. After attaching Ginger's leash and locking up the store, Connie and her little sidekick made the short walk to the car. The GPS took them to one of the side streets off the main boulevard, not too far from where Stephanie lived. Tracy's neighborhood was filled with comfy-looking bungalows that were only a short walk to the beach.
When Connie arrived at the house, she pulled her car in front of Tracy's mermaid mailbox and took Ginger with her up to the house. The dog would give her a good excuse not to stay long if anything didn't feel right.
Connie hesitated at the sound of a familiar masculine voice coming through the door. Where had she had heard that voice before? She
pressed her finger into the black wrought iron doorbell and was greeted by a woman who looked to be in her late thirties with a medium build and dark curls that fell just above her shoulders.
Mickey Miranda was peeking out from behind her.
He quickly explained to Tracy that Connie was a new business owner in town and that he had recommended her as an accountant.
In reality, Connie's father was an accountant and had offered to take care of her accounting needs free of charge, calling it a win-win. "I can both support my daughter's venture,” he had said, “and also contribute to a great cause." But Mickey and Tracy didn’t need to know that.
"Actually, I'm planning to wait until the business is off the ground before hiring anyone," Connie explained to Tracy, "but I just thought I'd put out some feelers sooner rather than later."
"I was just on my way out," Mickey said. Then, holding Tracy's gaze, he said, "You be sure to treat her fairly."
Mickey’s comment struck Connie as odd. Was it just an expression, or was Tracy in the habit of treating people unfairly?
Tracy invited Connie inside while she got a list of her services and rates.
Connie waited in the foyer, admiring some photos on the wall, while Tracy disappeared down the hallway. Within a couple of minutes, she had returned with a professional-looking list in hand.
"This must be your sister," Connie said, pointing to one of the photos that hung above a half moon table in the foyer. "The two of you look so much alike."
Tracy swallowed hard. "Yes, that's Tiffany. But we haven't seen each other in a while." For a moment her thoughts seemed a million miles away, but she quickly regained her composure as she handed Connie the list.
"Do you mind if we talk outside?" Connie asked, motioning toward two blue Adirondack chairs in the front yard. "I wouldn't want Ginger here to track dirt into your living room." She felt safer knowing that at least Mickey knew where she was. That is, unless Mickey was on Team Tracy.
"Of course," she said, leading the way to the chairs.
As soon as Connie sat, Ginger jumped on her lap.
"These rates seem fair." Actually, from what she knew of her father's business, they seemed pretty low. Hopefully that wasn't because Tracy made up the difference by pilfering money from clients.
"Thank you for this," Connie said, folding it and putting it in her pocket. "I will be in touch as soon as I am ready to talk business. As I said earlier, for now I'm just focusing on getting up and running. I'm still learning my way around. In fact," Connie said, looking directly at Tracy, "I just heard what happened to poor Natasha Orlov. I understand she was a client of yours."
Tracy's eyes widened for a moment. "Yes," she said after a brief pause, "such a tragedy. Business had been a little slow. I guess the pressure got to her."
"It seems strange that she would just take off, given she was so committed to her business and her daughter," Connie said. "Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm her?"
Tracy gaze was so intense that it felt like she was looking straight through Connie. It gave her the feeling she was being sized up. "I think it's more likely that she ran away. But then again," she added, "it could have been her landlord."
Connie's shocked expression must have spoken for itself. It didn’t take long for Tracy to throw Mickey under the bus.
"Between you and me, Natasha was falling further and further behind on her rent, and he had warned her that if she didn't catch up soon, he would take action. She kept talking her way into more time, but he was losing patience."
Mickey had said that Natasha was late a couple of times, but according to him, she had been caught up by the time she disappeared. Of course, if Mickey had been involved in Natasha's disappearance, he might not want to reveal his motive.
Since Connie had already come this far, she decided to bite the bullet and ask her burning question. "Tracy, I found some information that seemed to indicate that Natasha's store was doing pretty well financially. There was also a note that she was going to confront you about stealing money from her. I only ask, because, if we are going to do business together, I want to make sure I can trust those on my team." The note never mentioned stealing money, but Connie wanted to gauge Tracy's reaction.
Ginger stirred in her lap, but she reassured the dog by stroking her soft coat. She had her car keys in the other hand, just in case she wanted to leave quickly.
"Look," Tracy said, "it's hard running a business for the first time, and, while Natasha had experience in retail, she had to overcome a steep learning curve for other aspects of the job. She simply wasn't earning enough to turn a decent profit. Some months she had to choose between paying Mickey the rent and taking a salary. As a young mother, I'm sure she did what she needed to do."
"So, you think that she ran away to escape her financial problems?"
"It's not out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe Mickey decided to take matters into his own hands and expedite the process."
Connie was finding herself hoping that Natasha had indeed run away, because, if Tracy was telling the truth, the alternative was that her landlord was a killer.
She couldn’t think of any more questions, so she thanked Tracy for her time and left. On the way back to the shop, Connie stopped for a quick sandwich, then spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking the last of the boxes that the movers had delivered. Then she moved on to the ones in the storeroom, which contained Fair Trade jewelry from Kenya and Ecuador, and carefully placed it on the displays. Inside each piece of tissue paper was another unique treasure, making her feel like a child on Christmas morning. She hoped the Sapphire Beach clientele would love them as much as she did.
As Connie worked, Ginger settled into a comfy spot on the plush, white area rug under the glass coffee table by the couch and only stirred to follow Connie out back when she went to grab more boxes of jewelry.
After unpacking the last box, Connie sat on the couch with a bottle of water. Ginger lazily lifted her head, then went back to sleep, apparently deciding it wasn't worth the effort to hop onto the couch.
"So, you shed your white-and-chestnut-colored fur all over my shop, then ignore me?" she teased the dog.
Connie had to laugh at Ginger's token tail-wag.
The sound of the door chime pulled Connie's attention away from her four-legged friend. It was Zach, and he looked more tired than she felt. He was in uniform, so she assumed he was coming off a shift.
"Hi, Zach. It's good to see you." She couldn't help but wonder if his unexpected visit was a social call or connected to police business. She found herself hoping it was the former. She started to get up, but he motioned for her not to bother and took a seat in the armchair facing her.
"It looks fantastic in here," he said, craning his neck to look around the store. His eyes settled on a painting of Sapphire Beach with a parasailer floating across the blue sky, which was temporarily leaning against a wall. Zach had given it to Connie as a memento the night before she went home to Boston, before he knew she had made the decision to relocate to Sapphire Beach.
She followed his gaze over to the picture. "I was thinking of hanging it over there," she said, pointing to the driftwood accent wall. "I think the colors will really pop against the gray wood."
"It'll look fantastic there," he said with a wide grin. "That's kind of why I stopped by," he continued.
“To visit your painting?” she said, grinning.
"Very funny. No, I was wondering if I could take you parasailing if you'd still like to go. I remember you saying it was on your bucket list when we talked in January, so I was hoping you might like to go with me."
Connie was surprised he remembered that from their conversation. It had only been three months, but it felt like ages ago.
"I know it's a busy time for you, but I don't imagine it will be less busy once the store opens," he added.
He was right. Life would always be busy, and she had promised herself she would take the time to slow down and enjoy life.
And it seemed like that should include getting to know Zach. "That sounds like fun. I'd love to."
"Great. Are you free next Sunday? I have the day off."
"Next Sunday is perfect."
"Would early afternoon work?" Zach asked. "I usually go to a later Mass, so I can sleep in when I have the day off."
Connie was pleasantly surprised that he attended Mass. She hadn't seen him there in January, but she had gone to an earlier Mass the Sunday she was in town.
"Sounds good. I will probably see you there."
"Great," he said. "I'll look for you."
He stood up to leave, and Connie walked him to the door.
"By the way," Connie asked, "did the information I found bring about any leads in Natasha's disappearance?"
He shook his head. "We're still following up, but so far nothing solid. Besides Natasha's ledger, there isn't anything that points to Tracy embezzling money."
"That's too bad," Connie said. "I was really hoping for some answers, for her daughter's sake."
"Me, too. It's definitely a sad one," he said.
Chapter 6
Zach left as Brittany was coming in. He stopped to hold the door for her and nodded as she went past him.
"See you soon," Zach said, waving at Connie on his way out.
"I hope everything is okay," Brittany said, gesturing toward Zach as he walked toward his car. "Why were the police here?"
"There's nothing to worry about. Zach just stopped by to see how the store was coming along," she said, not wanting to overshare.
"Steve called and asked if I could come by to finish a few projects. Is now a good time to work on that punch list?"
"Your timing is perfect. I also have some pictures I'd love you to hang. Oh, and the movers left a few scratches on the wall over there that need to be repaired," Connie said, pointing to a wall near the table.
"No problem. I'll have this all done in no time," Brittany said.
Surf, Sand and Skeletons Page 3
