“Right now?” My mind was muddled. “I don’t really feel like going back to the bar.”
“No, not right now.”
It was a struggle, but Millie managed to get me most of the way back to the hotel without anyone noticing. We were almost to the porch when a familiar voice called out.
“Hey, there.” Zach jogged in our direction, his face brightening. “What are you two doing out so late?”
“We were taking a stroll through your lovely town,” Millie replied.
“We were getting drunk,” I automatically answered, rubbing the back of my hand under my nose and grimacing. “I’m spinning again.”
“And I’m going to punch you in the face if you don’t stop saying things like that,” Millie warned. “We really need to work on your tolerance.”
Zach chuckled, amused. “Would you like some help?”
“Absolutely,” I said, grimacing as I stubbed my toe on the stair. “Whoops!”
“Ugh. You’re going to be a walking bruise tomorrow,” Millie complained. “I’ve got her. We’re almost to the stairs.”
“I want to help.” Zach moved forward and grabbed me around the waist from the other side. “Go ahead and let go. I’ve got her.”
“I don’t really think that’s necessary,” Millie said obstinately, jerking me closer to her side. “I said I’ve got her.”
“You clearly need help.” Zach gave me a tug.
“I don’t need help,” Millie argued, yanking me back the other way.
Thankfully I didn’t hear what Zach had to say because my stomach was close to revolting and I jerked away from both of them. “I can walk myself.” They were bold words, and they failed me the minute I stepped forward and smacked into a broad chest.
Jack, his dark eyes flashing with fury, caught me before I could go down. “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, geez.” Millie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I should’ve known this would happen. You’ve got your ‘damsel in distress’ radar Lo-jacked to her, don’t you?”
“I want answers,” Jack snapped. “Is she … drunk?”
“I am.” I bobbed my head. “My stomach is upset.” Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes. “It was fun until I had a stroke.”
“Okay, well … .” Jack looked conflicted as he heaved a sigh and slipped his arm around my back. “Hold on. I’ll take you upstairs.”
“I was about to do that,” Zach argued.
“Zach was going to do it, Jack,” I offered, smirking. “Zach and Jack. That rhymes.”
“Yes, you’re a poet and you didn’t even know it,” Millie intoned, rolling her eyes.
“I want to help,” Zach persisted.
Jack silenced him with a look. “I’ve got it.” He grunted as he lifted me off the ground, pinning me with a bossy look that I knew promised retribution in the morning. “We’re going to have a talk about this.”
“It’s not my fault,” I argued. “Millie peer pressured me.”
“She peer pressured you?”
“What? That’s a thing.”
Jack slid his eyes to Millie. “Is that true?”
“I haven’t decided how I want to answer yet,” Millie replied. “I don’t want the girl to get in trouble because I genuinely like her, but I’m not keen on you blaming me for this.”
“I need an answer,” Jack pressed, climbing the steps.
“Fine.” Millie rolled her eyes again. “She wanted to go to bed and I made her go with me. Then she wanted iced tea but I made her drink. In my defense, I thought she was being modest when she said she rarely drinks.”
“How many drinks did this?” Jack asked, legitimately curious.
“Four,” Millie answered.
“A hundred,” I interjected. “That’s what it feels like anyway.”
For the first time since finding us on the street, Jack cracked a smile. “You’re going to feel worse in the morning.”
“That’s what Millie says.” I rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me up the stairs. “I guess now I know what I was missing when I didn’t drink in college, huh?”
“We’ll fix it,” Millie offered. “We’ll build up your tolerance.”
“Or, next time you can just let her have one drink,” Jack suggested.
“What’s the fun in that?” Millie offered up a half wave before disappearing down the hallway. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I’d be obliged if you kept this little outing to yourself, Jack.”
“No promises, Millie,” Jack shot back. He lowered me to my feet and started moving his hands over my butt. It took me a moment to register the presence of his fingers on my posterior, and when I did, I instinctively smacked at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for your key,” Jack replied, gesturing toward the door. “I can’t open it without a key.”
“Oh, well … .” I dug in my pocket for what felt like forever, finally coming up with the key as I tipped forward. Jack caught me as he collected the key, keeping his arm around me so I didn’t list to the side.
“You are going to be so sorry tomorrow,” Jack lamented as he ushered me in the room.
I was happy to see the bed and fell face forward on it. I could’ve passed out right there, but Jack wouldn’t allow it.
“Charlie, I need you to roll over.”
“I’m not in the mood. I have a headache.”
Jack snorted. “I need you to roll over so I can take your shoes off,” he said. “I have no idea what you were suggesting – okay, maybe I have a rough idea, but there’s no way that’s going to happen.”
“I know. You think I’m stupid.”
“I think you’re … eager to please,” Jack corrected. “Roll over.”
I did as instructed, groaning when my stomach lurched. “I don’t like this.”
“Just hold on for a second.” Jack unsnapped my sandals and removed them before clapping his hands to get my attention. “Scoot up and put your head on the pillow.”
“Ugh. You’re so bossy.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jack helped me to the top of the bed and then pulled back as I rolled to my side. “I’m going to get you a bottle of water and some aspirin and leave them on your nightstand.”
“Okay.”
“I’m taking your key because I’m pretty sure you’ll pass out while I’m gone.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll leave the key on the nightstand when I leave.”
“Hmm.”
“Charlie, can you hear me?”
“Shh. It’s quiet time. My parents are waiting for me in my dreams.”
I didn’t miss the sympathetic look on Jack’s face before he stood. “I’ll be back.”
I barely registered his departure. I was so eager to escape in dreams that I could think of nothing else. I was on the verge of unconsciousness when I heard someone futzing with the door handle.
“Just come in, Jack,” I muttered.
The rattling continued and was on the verge of driving me insane. “Just come in, Jack. You have the key.”
The rattling stopped, allowing me to drift once more. I was out of it when I felt someone pulling the covers over me.
“Did you find the key?”
“I thought you were gone,” Jack said. “Why are you still awake? I put aspirin and water on the nightstand. You should be able to find it when you wake with the world’s worst hangover tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“What did you say about the key?” Jack asked. “That’s right here, too.”
“I heard you at the door.” I was so far gone I slurred a bit. “You were trying to get in. I reminded you that you had the key.”
“Charlie, that wasn’t me.”
“Sure it was. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
“Okay, but … .” Jack trailed off. “I’ll make sure the door is locked. Get some sleep.”
“I’m trying. I can’t sleep when you’re talking.”
“Th
en I’ll stop talking.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
Jack rested his hand on my forehead, perhaps checking for a temperature, and then moved away from the bed. “Goodnight, Charlie. I’ll check on you first thing in the morning.”
That was the last thing I heard before I drifted off.
8
Eight
When I woke the next morning I thought there was a very real possibility my head was locked in a vise. My eyes were crusty and my mouth was so dry I figured that maybe I’d been inadvertently dumped in the desert and woken after a week of dehydration.
Dimly, through the murk of my memories, things slowly came together.
Millie.
Zach.
Jack.
Oh, my aching head!
I downed the aspirin Jack left on the nightstand, guzzled a bottle of water and then staggered into the shower. The water temperature was tepid, but it helped clear the cobwebs. By the time I dressed, pulled my wet hair back in a loose bun and slammed the other bottle of water, I felt almost human.
Almost.
Jack was in the hallway when I opened the door. In hindsight, I realized I should have expected him. He was concerned the night before and reluctant to leave me should I drown in my own vomit. The look he gave me now was neither condescending nor haughty. That’s the only reason I didn’t turn tail and hide.
“I’m sure you want to gloat,” I started, rubbing my forehead. “Maybe that can wait until after breakfast.”
“I have no intention of gloating.” Jack pushed himself away from the wall and stepped closer, his eyes curious as they scanned my face. “You don’t look terrible.”
“Oh, well, that’s what a girl wants to hear first thing in the morning.”
“You know what I mean.” Jack pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “You’re cool. That’s good.”
“I don’t have the flu.”
“I know, but your face was really hot last night, and it had me a little worried,” Jack admitted.
“We drank tequila.”
“I heard.” Jack brightened. “First time, huh?”
The way he said it, the overt glee, caused my cheeks to burn. “With tequila? Yes. If you’re wondering if I’m sorry I went, the answer is yes.”
“Oh, don’t let it get you down,” Jack offered. “You’ll feel better once you have breakfast in you. And you might be better off wearing sunglasses today. No one will question you if they don’t see your eyes.”
“What’s wrong with my eyes?”
“They’re a little bloodshot.”
“Oh, well, great,” I muttered. “I haven’t been falling down drunk since I was a teenager. I guess I smashed my good girl stretch to smithereens last night … in more ways than one.”
“What do you mean?” Jack was confused. “Why would that matter?”
“Oh, well … .” I trailed off, unsure how to answer.
“Because your parents died and you were instantly an adult from then on,” Jack deduced after a moment of contemplation. “I guess that makes sense. I never thought of it from that point of view.”
I had no idea why I was embarrassed, but it bothered me. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to you, so it matters.” Jack gestured toward the stairs. “Hannah was on the phone with the medical examiner’s office when I came up to collect you. I think she has some information.”
“Oh, really?” I was happy to turn my attention to work. “Are we leaving for Hooper’s Mill right after breakfast?”
“That all depends on what Hannah has to say.”
“Okay, well … does everyone know Millie took me to the bar last night and I can’t hold my liquor?”
“No. I haven’t told anyone, and I doubt Millie will. That’s not her style.”
“But Zach!” I cringed at the memory. “He wanted to take me upstairs.”
“I remember.” Jack’s tone was dark. “Don’t worry about him. If he says something, it won’t matter. Chris doesn’t care as long as you do your job.”
“Yeah, except I still feel a little queasy and my head hurts.”
“It’s a hangover. You’ll get over it eventually. The good news is, it won’t kill you. If your reflexes are dull, though, the Chupacabra might.”
“Ha, ha.” I didn’t find his attitude funny. “You don’t believe in the Chupacabra. You’ve already owned up to that. What do you think killed him?”
“I don’t know, but I hope whatever news Hannah brings will point us in the right direction.”
We both hoped for that.
“IT WASN’T DOMINIC Sully,” Hannah announced once we were seated, causing everyone to break out talking at once.
“Who was it?” Jack asked.
“Do they know how he died?” Chris queried.
“How did they mess that up so badly?” Bernard asked.
Hannah took the myriad of questions in stride. “The deceased’s name is Wendell Morrison,” she read from the notepad in front of her. “According to the woman who called, a secretary who seemed agitated to be sharing information, he was putting in a competing bid on Hooper’s Mill.”
“A competing bid?” Jack leaned forward, intrigued. “No one mentioned a competing bid.”
I racked my brain for the conversation at the bar the previous night and something niggled at the back of my brain. I slid a gaze to Millie and found her face drawn as she sat with her hands folded in her lap.
“Actually, I went to the local watering hole last night, and the bartender mentioned that there was a rumor about a competing bid,” Millie volunteered, seemingly not caring that she was outing herself. “At the time we were still laboring under the assumption that it was Dominic Sully, so I didn’t press the bartender too much.”
“You went to the bar without me?” Laura was clearly annoyed. “Why would you do that? I was bored out of my gourd in my room last night. You could’ve invited me.”
“I wouldn’t invite you unless I was in the mood for an earworm,” Millie shot back.
“So … what? You went to the bar alone?” Laura narrowed her eyes. “I bet you were cruising for men. That’s your regular shtick, isn’t it?”
“I believe you have me confused with you,” Millie shot back.
“Besides, she wasn’t alone,” I interjected. “I went with her.”
Jack said I didn’t have to own up to my actions, but Millie was right. We didn’t break the rules, and I saw no reason to lie. Besides, Zach knew. There was every chance he’d slip and tell, so it was better to get it out in the open right away.
“You went to the bar with Charlie?” Laura made an exaggerated face. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not. And she was a very charming wingman.” Millie shot me a soft smile. “How are you feeling this morning, dear?”
I shrugged, noncommittal. “I feel … fine.”
“She’s got a headache and she’s dehydrated,” Jack volunteered, shoving a glass of water in front of me. “She’ll be fine once she gets some food in her stomach.”
“Of course she will.” Millie smiled. “She was quite the little helper when I was asking questions, so she’s got good karma coming her way.”
Jack murdered Millie with a look. “And what kind of karma do you have coming your way?”
“I don’t know, but I bet it’s drowned in butter and syrup.” Millie refused to avert her gaze, instead grinning until Jack was the first to turn away. “Anyway, Lloyd the bartender mentioned that everyone in town wanted Hooper’s Mill to be renovated because it would mean more jobs. He couldn’t think of anyone who would want to kill Sully over the development.”
“I’m not sure why we’re focusing on human enemies when we have a potential canine variant out there that is probably to blame,” Chris noted.
“I think we should tackle all possibilities,” Jack argued.
“I understand that, but … .”
“Ruling in a Chupacabra isn’t going to be easy,” I suppl
ied. “If you can rule out human culprits that only helps your cause.”
Jack shot me a grateful look, which slipped when Zach walked through the doorway. Our tour guide was freshly showered and dressed, and he looked none the worse for wear despite his late night.
“Hello, all.” Zach practically sang as he strode toward the table. “It’s a fine day for an adventure, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is,” Chris enthused. “We were just talking over some evidence and making a few decisions. If you haven’t had breakfast yet, please join us.”
“Yes.” Laura’s eyes flashed. “Please join us.”
“I think I will.” Zach was all smiles as he took the open spot next to me and ignored the one on the other side of Laura. “How are you feeling this morning, Ms. Tequila?”
I tugged on my limited patience to keep from exploding and forced a smile. “I’m fine. I apologize if my public drunkenness was too much for you last evening.”
Laura, of course, picked up on the tension right away. “What am I missing? Was Zach at the bar, too?” Her expression was accusatory when she turned it on Millie. “Is that why you didn’t invite me? You didn’t want the competition, did you?”
“Oh, honey, you’re no competition for me,” Millie drawled. “I didn’t invite you because I don’t like you. As for the tour guide here, he wasn’t at the bar with us. We ran into him on the street on the way back.”
“And it was a lovely interlude.” Zach grinned at me. “I’m surprised you’re on your feet. I thought for sure you’d be down for the count for a few more hours once you had to be carried to your room.”
“He carried you to your room?” Laura was practically spitting venom when she glared at me.
“I carried her to her room,” Jack corrected.
I expected Laura to relax a bit, but instead she merely turned her hatred to Jack. “I should’ve seen that coming.”
“I guess you should have,” Jack agreed. “Millie didn’t take into account that Charlie has a very low tolerance for alcohol. She needed help getting to her room. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I bet you have a terrible headache this morning,” Hannah said sympathetically. “I have some aspirin in my purse if you need some.”
The Chupacabra Catastrophe Page 7
