“I can see why you wanted to break up with him,” I said.
Yasmin, deep in Tate-Tate-Tate mode, didn’t hear me.
“But then he started sending me flowers, and calling me, and texting me, all the time,” she said. “That’s Tate. He’s just so thoughtful.”
“Are you honeymooning here?” Sandy asked.
“Tate’s a lawyer, you know,” Yasmin said. “He works at my daddy’s firm, and he’s so smart. Everybody at the firm loves him, and they all think he’s brilliant.”
“How many bridesmaids do you have?” Sandy asked.
“Tate picked out the most gorgeous tuxedo for the ceremony,” Yasmin said. “He has perfect taste in absolutely everything.”
Bella caught my gaze and mouthed, “What the hell?”
I mouthed back, “I hate her.”
Bella just nodded.
I sat up in my chair and looked around. Where the heck was that waiter? I desperately needed a drink.
“You won’t believe my flowers,” Yasmin declared, and clapped for no apparent reason. “Lilies, shipped all the way from Holland. And tucked inside my bouquet will be a special pendant called the Heart of Amour. It’s an antique, or something. It has a huge jewel in it that Tate’s cousin bought in Paris, which is, oh my God, the most romantic city in the world.”
Nobody said anything.
“The necklace has been inside the bouquet at four weddings in Tate’s family,” Yasmin said, “and whoever caught the bouquet got married within a few months—all of them! So Tate said we absolutely have to use the Heart of Amour in our wedding.”
Nobody said anything.
“And then—then—Tate insisted I go to New York to buy my wedding gown. He planned the whole trip. Me, my mom, all my bridesmaids. Limos, champagne, a personal escort, everything,” Yasmin said. “He’s always thinking about new ways to make me happy.”
It sounded to me as if Tate-Tate-Tate was always thinking of new ways to make partner in her daddy’s firm.
“Tate insisted I try on every gown in every shop so I would get the one I really wanted, so I did.” Yasmin pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her cover-up. “Let me show you the pictures.”
I sprang out of the lounge chair as if I were lunging for the last Michael Kors satchel on a Macy’s sale table.
“I have to go,” I said.
Bella hopped up, too. “Yeah, so do I.”
“But you just got here,” Sandy said.
“And I haven’t told you Tate’s ideas for the reception,” Yasmin said.
“I’m—I’m expecting a call,” I said.
“Yeah, and I have to be careful not to get too much sun,” Bella said.
We grabbed our things and took off. Marcie and Sandy—who were clearly nicer than Bella and me—stayed.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to a wedding here?” Bella asked as we trudged across the beach.
“I’m not,” I told her. “I wasn’t invited.”
Bella frowned. “She’s your friend?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“And she didn’t invite you to her wedding?” Bella asked. “That’s b.s. You ask me, that’s b.s.”
“Really, I’m okay with it,” I said.
Bella nodded. “I can see why.”
We caught the next tram, rode back to the hotel, and went upstairs.
“Want to go get something to eat?” Bella asked as we walked down the corridor.
“Sure,” I said, digging in my tote for my resort pass room key.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes,” she said, and let herself into her room.
I scrounged through my tote—I was positive the Sea Vixen had better pocket organizers—and finally came up with my key.
“Excuse me?” someone called.
From the corner of my eye I glimpsed a young woman hurrying toward me. My initial reaction—thanks to my Holt’s training—was to ignore her, but then I saw that she had on a burgundy uniform and figured she was one of the hotel maids.
“You’re Miss Randolph, aren’t you?” she asked, stopping in front of me.
Wow, even the maids knew me by name. The Rowan Resort gave top-notch service, all right.
“I’m Tabitha,” she said, pointing to the name tag pinned to the lapel of her uniform.
She was blond with bright blue eyes, probably just out of her teens. I figured she was one of the college students who worked here.
Tabitha was really small, and I wondered how someone so tiny could push those heavy housekeeping carts up and down the halls. I glanced around but saw no cart.
She gestured to my room. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything, Miss Randolph.”
Was my picture up in the employee lounge above the caption “Be extra nice to this person, she discovered a dead body”?
“Everything’s great,” I told her.
She nodded and twisted her fingers together for a few seconds, then said, “I heard you’re the one who found Jaslyn.”
I wasn’t all that anxious to talk about Jaslyn—I should have gone with my Holt’s instincts and bolted when I saw her coming—but there was nothing I could do about that now.
I shouldn’t have to be constantly on my toes. I’m on vacation.
“That’s right,” I said.
Tabitha glanced around and leaned a little closer. “Is it true what everybody is saying? You know, that the detectives think it was just an accident?”
Okay, now I felt kind of bad. Obviously, Tabitha was concerned for her safety.
“That’s what somebody told me,” I said. “But, really, I don’t know anything for sure.”
“What did the detectives say?” she asked. “Exactly?”
“They mostly just asked me questions,” I said.
“Do they have any evidence?” Tabitha asked.
Of course, workers at the resort would be interested in the details of Jaslyn’s death. Word must have gotten around that the detectives thought it was an accident and Tabitha wanted to confirm the news. I guess it would give a little more peace of mind to everyone working here. Tabitha seemed anxious for details, but if I were in her shoes, maybe I would be, too.
“I don’t know anything about their evidence,” I said, then decided to move the conversation in another direction. “You and Jaslyn were friends?”
“Kind of,” she said. “We live here, all the employees. Well, not here at the hotel. There’s a dorm near the docks for us. We stay there for our shifts, then we can leave the island on our days off, if we want to.”
I eased closer to my door, more than ready to end this little talk, but Tabitha was having none of it.
“Where did you ... find her?” she asked. “It wasn’t on the cliffs, was it?”
“No,” I said, thinking it better I didn’t go into too much detail.
“Jaslyn wouldn’t have gone up there unless ...”
She stopped.
I hate it when that happens.
“Unless what?” I asked.
Tabitha shook her head as if dismissing the thought she’d had, then a few seconds later she seemed to change her mind again.
“Unless her boyfriend made her,” she said. “He was always trying to get her to go up there. But if you didn’t find her there, I guess it’s okay.”
So Avery was wrong about employees dating each other. Surprise, surprise.
“She had a boyfriend?” I asked.
“Just some guy,” Tabitha said.
She looked at me for a few seconds, then backed away.
“Okay, well, thanks,” she said.
Tabitha looked only marginally more relieved than when we’d started talking. But I didn’t know anything else I could tell her.
I went into my room, took a quick shower, and dressed in white capris, a yellow T-shirt, and flip-flops. I didn’t hear Bella moving around in her adjoining room, so I knocked. I got no answer, so I figured she was already in the lobby. I slid my resort pass into my po
cket and headed downstairs.
Just as I stepped into the lobby I spotted a guy heading my way. Kind of tall, late twenties, shaggy brown hair, good-looking. He had on rumpled khaki pants and a stretched-out blue polo shirt.
Hang on a minute.
I’d seen those clothes before.
He saw me in the same second and froze. I froze too because, oh my God, I knew him. It was Ben Oliver, a reporter for the L.A. Daily Courier. We had history—sort of. What the heck was he doing here?
He didn’t give me a chance to ask. Ben spun around and took off, heading for the door.
No way was I letting that happen. I took off after him.
I dashed across the lobby and out the hotel’s front entrance, and caught a glimpse of something blue disappear behind a planter of ferns. I followed, weaving my way down the path and around all the plants, then skidded to a stop beside a fountain with a sea horse shooting water from its nose. No sign of Ben. I’d lost him.
Still, I wasn’t giving up. I was about to bolt to the right when a hand touched my arm. I whirled around, ready to grill Ben on why he was here.
Only it wasn’t Ben.
It was Luke Warner.
CHAPTER 5
“Haley.”
Luke said my name in a mellow voice that made my stomach feel gooey and my toes curl. But I didn’t want a gooey stomach or curling toes. This was a no-men vacation, and if I felt those things while I was here I sure as heck didn’t want Luke to be the one who caused them—not after what he’d done the last time we were together.
“Luke,” I said, and, darn it, my voice sounded all gooey and toe-curly.
He had on khaki cargo shorts and a shirt with palm trees on it, standard resort wear that somehow made him look more rugged and masculine. The breeze ruffled his dark hair
“How have you been?” he asked.
Luke had the most awesome green eyes. They seemed to look straight through me, somehow, and see my inner thoughts—or maybe that was his FBI training.
“Great. I’ve been great,” I said.
It wasn’t really true, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell Luke what my life had been like lately.
“How about you?” I asked.
He nodded thoughtfully and said, “Okay. Just okay.”
His gaze drilled me as if he were trying to convey some deeper meaning. I figured he was thinking about how, the last time we saw each other, he’d tried to make things up to me and had asked for a second chance, but I was having none of it—that’s how upset I’d been with him.
Luke angled closer and asked, “What brings you here?”
Oh my God, he smelled great.
“Vacation,” I said, and it came out sounding kind of squeaky.
“Are you ... with someone?” he asked.
“Friends,” I said.
He looked relieved that I wasn’t here with a boyfriend—or maybe that was just my imagination.
“I’m here for a wedding. A buddy from college,” he said.
Was that a weird coincidence or what?
We just stood there for a few seconds looking at each other and not talking—this wasn’t my first junior high moment with Luke—then we both seemed to realize it at the same time.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Luke said.
“Maybe,” I said.
We gazed into each other’s eyes for another couple of seconds, then Luke stepped back.
“See you,” he said.
“Yeah,” I replied, and walked away.
Oh my God, where was Marcie at a time like this? I absolutely had to tell her what had just happened. She had to help me interpret every word, every look, every gesture.
I took off down the pathway, not sure where I was going as thoughts of Luke raged in my mind.
He was here to attend a wedding? At the same time I was here on vacation? Now Luke and I were linked together. We’d found each other on this remote island. Did that mean we were destined to be together? Was it just a crazy coincidence? Was this some sort of sign?
Was I getting carried away?
I slowed my steps, drew in a couple of deep breaths, and tried to calm myself—something I’m not really good at.
Oh my God, I desperately needed a mocha Frappuccino from Starbucks.
I was going to have to ask Avery to have one flown in from the mainland—it was the only way I could deal with this Luke thing.
I whipped around and headed back toward the hotel entrance, and noticed a flash of blue through a trellis of bright red blooms. I circled back and spotted Ben Oliver in a little alcove of flowers, parked on a bench, pounding away on his laptop.
So it was him I’d seen inside the hotel earlier. I knew it.
But what was a reporter for the L.A. Daily Courier doing here? Could he simply be vacationing on the island? I doubted it. Ben didn’t give the impression that he was flush and could afford a place like this, where a day’s stay could cost more than an average family’s mortgage payment, not judging from the clothes he wore, anyway—I was pretty sure he had on the same khaki pants and blue polo shirt I’d seen him wearing several months ago.
If Ben wasn’t vacationing, he must be here investigating a story. But that didn’t make sense, either. The Rowan Resort would never—never—allow a reporter on their property. The privacy of their guests was their top priority.
So why was he here?
I decided to ask him.
I walked closer and said, “Hi, Ben.”
His head jerked up, his eyes widened, and he shouted, “Get away from me!”
Wow, was that a different reception than I’d gotten from Luke or what?
“I just want to talk—”
“Stay back!”
Ben slammed the lid on his laptop and sprang to his feet. He lurched right. I jumped in front of him. He cut left, cradling his laptop to his chest and holding out his other hand like a running back going down field for a touchdown. I went with him, blocking his escape.
“Why are you being such an idiot?” I asked.
“Because I don’t want you to ruin my life—again!” he told me.
“I didn’t ruin you life,” I insisted.
“Yes, you did!”
Okay, he was right. Kind of. But it wasn’t all my fault. Really.
A few months ago I’d given Ben some hot tips on breaking news—long story—that should have propelled him to the top of the newspaper journalist world—whatever that was—but things hadn’t worked out exactly as I’d thought they would. In fact, they’d gone sideways big-time and, to put it mildly, Ben’s editor hadn’t been pleased. Ben had ended up covering chili cook-offs, community Little Miss pageants, and craft projects at retirement homes.
Ben hadn’t seemed to appreciate the effort I’d put into feeding him those potential career-making stories, for some reason, and had blamed me for all the bad things that had happened to him. Seems he was still holding a grudge.
“Look,” Ben said, “just stay away from me.”
He circled around me and disappeared.
Yeah, okay, I guess it made sense that Ben would be a little miffed at me, but jeez, he seemed to be holding on to his anger a little too tightly.
Or maybe something else was going on. Was he here investigating the disappearance and death of Jaslyn Gordon?
The idea zinged around in my head for a few minutes—and I hadn’t even had a mocha Frappuccino—until I finally decided that even if that was the reason for Ben’s presence at the resort, it had nothing to do with me. I didn’t know Jaslyn, I wasn’t involved, and I didn’t have reason to become involved. In fact, if the rumors I’d heard were correct, the whole thing was an unfortunate accident. End of story—except that I still needed a mocha Frappuccino.
I found my way back to the hotel’s front entrance, went into the lobby, and stopped dead in my tracks. Oh my God—a Sea Vixen.
My heart rate picked up. My breathing got shallow.
There it sat on the floor beside a chair in all i
ts polka dot glory. The blue, orange, yellow, and green mesmerized me, drawing me across the lobby as if in a trance. I drew closer, arms extended, my fingertips tingling. Within seconds, it would be mine.
“Oh, hi there,” somebody said.
My world shattered. I blinked back to reality and saw a woman sitting in the chair. Oh my God, the Sea Vixen belonged to her.
Her? How could that be? She was old—like fifty, or something. She had on—yikes!—those were shorts I’d seen on the rack at Holt’s, and Holt’s sold the most hideous clothing known to mankind. How could she have a Sea Vixen? She didn’t deserve it. Not like I did.
Maybe I could just take it. I glanced at the hotel’s entrance and considered making a break for it. She was old. She couldn’t possibly move very fast. I could lose her in a heartbeat. Except this was an island. Where would I run to? She’d find me sooner or later.
I hate it when that happens.
“I’m Geraldine,” she said with a big smile. “From the welcome center. Harvey and I met you and your friends there. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” I said, forcing myself to calm down. I pointed to the Sea Vixen. “I love your bag.”
“Isn’t it just the cutest thing?” Geraldine said. “I saw it and just had to have it, even though it cost a small fortune. But Harvey said I should get it. It’s my one impulse buy here.”
If I’d had floppy, pointed Scooby-Doo ears, they would have shot straight up.
“Here?” I asked. I might have said that a little too loud.
“Why, yes,” Geraldine said.
“At the resort?” I think I shouted that.
“Yes,” she said, and pointed toward the rear of the hotel. “At one of the shops.”
“Which one?” I screamed that.
Geraldine drew back a little. I forced myself to calm down.
“Sorry,” I said.
She waved away my apology and said, “Don’t give it a thought. Everyone is on edge, what with that poor girl getting murdered.”
The death of Jaslyn Gordon rushed into my brain crowding out the vision of the Sea Vixen.
“I thought it was an accident,” I said.
“Oh, no,” Geraldine said, and gestured to her smartphone lying on her lap. “I just read it online. The police announced that she was murdered. Hit on the head with something, probably a rock.”
Beach Bags and Burglaries (A Haley Randolph Mystery) Page 4
