by Zoey Kane
“It’s my understanding that the sheriff is exploring other suspects besides John’s son,” Gia said.
“That’s true. I’m so sorry about your father, dear. I can’t believe the sheriff would think one of us had done it. He stopped by an hour ago to talk to my nephew,” Abby said in disbelief. “I don’t know whatever for. Georgie wasn’t even here on Sunday.”
“Where was he?”
“He was on the other side of the Cove, boating with a couple of his friends.”
“And yet Sheriff Baker still came by to talk to him,” Tony said.
Abby winced. “There was an incident,” she said quietly.
“What happened?” Gia lightly pushed.
“Let me start by saying that Georgie has been by my side for years. He’s like a son to me and has always defended me. It was never a secret he has a temper. Last week, John showed up at the store for the millionth time to once again make snide remarks about how to run things here. Just being rude. Nothing he hadn’t said before, though. I would always tell Georgie to ignore that nasty man, but when my nephew saw John practically corner me like an animal, going on and on about how I was doing JewelCove a disservice for not joining in to make Main Street a thriving place for tourists,” Abby jerked her shoulders and continued, “Georgie became very angry.”
“What did he do?”
“He yanked John by the collar and pushed him out the door. In the process, John hit his nose on the ground and began to bleed. A witness called the police. When they arrived, John decided to let it go and went on his merry way,” Mrs. Norwitz finished.
A picture was beginning to be painted for Gia. An overly aggressive nephew who seemed to jump in at any given minute to protect his aunt, and John had tested that aggression. The fight may have ended with John dropping it, but did that mean Georgie let it go too? Had he parted from his friends and docked by the area where the limo stopped? There were plenty of piers nearby to do just that.
Wind chimes sounded as a middle-aged man came from around the corner. Abby brightened.
“Georgie! This is Tony and Gia, Sherry and David’s daughter,” she said, introducing them. Georgie was unshaven with dark lashes that framed lazy brown eyes. Gia took note of how top heavy he was: tree trunk-sized arms, a barrel chest, and a thick jaw that could tug a boat. Georgie disregarded her and Tony, addressing his aunt instead. “Kathy said her husband is picking up the mermaid statue around noon.”
“Wonderful. It’ll look just lovely in her backyard.” Abby clapped her wrinkled hands. “It’s getting close to lunch. Are you taking a break?”
“Not right now. I have the new table to build.” Georgie briefly met Gia’s gaze, then left.
“He’s a good man,” Abby commented. “He just seems lost at times.”
Shortly after, Gia and Tony once again were on the sidewalk. Jennie sauntered her way over with a handful of taffy.
“What did you find out?” Gia chewed through the tough watermelon-flavored candy.
“Squat.” Jennie popped an orange taffy into her mouth. “Carlos, the father, feels sorry that John had been murdered and is sorry for the family, but if John were still alive today, he was going to just file a restraining order against him. That way John wouldn’t bug them anymore.”
“Do you believe them?”
“They seemed genuine. Candice, his daughter, viewed John as an annoyance. Like a gnat. I wasn’t getting the psycho killer vibes from either.” Jennie shrugged. “What about Norwitz?”
“Her nephew is a possibility.”
“Georgie was on a boating trip with friends during the time of the murder,” Tony said. “However, he could have simply left them to attack John, then returned.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Gia said. “With John dead, it guarantees his aunt is left alone.”
“But how would Georgie know John’s exact location?” Jennie pointed out.
Point taken.
“Then are we looking for a person who was following John and got lucky when he stopped on the trail?” She bit her lip, contemplating. “Let’s go see if Frank fits the bill.”
Using her hand as a visor to block the sun, Gia caught sight of the fish restaurant.
“Perfect. Just in time for lunch.” Jennie slung an arm around Gia.
They didn't make it past the threshold of Frank's Fried Fish. The eatery was wall-to-wall customers, and Gia was sandwiched between Tony and Julian. She vaguely remembered Frank's stocky build and bald head back when she started her blog and was venturing for different meals to post. The cluster of customers was waiting to be seated by the hostess.
Jennie spotted the to-go station. Gia followed her and Tony—holding them by the hem of their shirts—as they pushed through to the station. They still waited another twenty minutes at the to-go line, then eventually reached a young man who conducted orders on an electronic pad.
“Hello, welcome to Frank’s Fried Fish. What would you like to order or do you need a minute?”
“Fish and chips with iced tea sound good?” Gia asked her companions.
“Yeah,” Tony nodded.
“I’ll take mine with extra chips, please.” Jennie piped in.
“Three fish cones, one extra chips, and three iced teas.” Gia told the employee her name for the order. Tony nudged her aside and paid the total.
“I’ll call you when it’s ready.” The young man smiled, ready for the next customer. However, Gia wasn’t done with him yet.
“Is Frank around?” she asked. Unlike getting tangled in Tony’s fake act in his office the other day, she had a full arsenal of white lies to get what she wanted.
“No.”
So much for being locked and loaded.
“Do you know where”—she read the server’s name tag—"he is, Ronny?"
“In court. Again.” Ronny smirked, lifting the left side of his face.
“What for?”
“To settle the feud he and his neighbor have been having. Apparently, the lady living next door is getting tired of the old fish bones Frank trashes outside.”
“Yuck.” Jennie grimaced.
"It's been attracting stray cats who cut through the lady's yard and piss in her flower garden," Ronny snorted a laugh. "She and Frank got into a shouting match, and the whole neighborhood heard. I live a block over, and I was able to hear every word. Some funky geezer ruined the fun by calling the cops. It all went down on Sunday—"
“What time on Sunday?” Gia interrupted. Ronny frowned at her.
“Uh, eight in the morning... Nine, I think. He and the lady had to cool off at the station. Frank had a fit and ended up staying in the slammer the whole day.” Ronny glanced behind her. “Um, I need to take the next customer’s order now.”
The trio moved aside to join the many people in waiting for their food. Gia pressed against Tony as space dwindled. The grin he sent her said he was just fine with the lack of breathing room.
“Need I state that it’s impossible for Frank to…”—Jennie lowered her voice—“kill John if he was in county lockup for hours while John was getting his head bashed in.”
“You just did.” Gia sighed.
“Are we down to just Georgie?” Jennie asked, sounding unconvinced by the notion.
“Chris,” Tony reminded them.
“We can hope evidence points to him.” Gia inwardly groaned in frustration. Were they even up against the clock? She wasn’t sure. All she knew were that her parents needed to be off Sheriff Baker’s list and fast. “I’m going step outside to give Rob a call to see if he came across anything.”
8
Gia hung up with Rob. The conversation had resulted in—to quote the famous words of Jennie Peterson—squat. The subject of John’s murder no longer was being gossiped about and asking about it led Rob to a dead end. No pun intended. One answer at least told her that the rock she saw bagged was indeed the murder weapon.
Dad was being distant, and Mom had succumbed to cooking non-stop sausage patty ba
gel sandwiches, apparently enough to feed everyone in JewelCove plus the creatures under the sea. Gia felt stumped. What more could she do? Maybe find a bench where her Tony and Jennie could meet up with the food order, and continue to feel stumped? She dropped her phone back in her purse. Arm bent, her elbow accidentally poked a passerby in the side.
“Oops, I’m so—” Gia swallowed her tongue. Her eyes connected with a lean chest styled in a gray shirt. Scanning upward... broad shoulders, a tan, muscular neck, dimpled chin, piercing blue eyes, and thick brown hair on the shaggy side. He didn't have Tony's ruggedly sexy looks, but instead had a chilled, laid-back vibe that could still turn a woman’s head.
Or leave their mouths gaping open like an idiot.
“You recognize me, don’t you?” His voice was smooth with an odd twinge of irritation.
“Excuse me?”
“Who hasn’t by now? Go ahead and ask. Ask me, like everyone else has.”
“All right, let’s rewind about thirty seconds.” Gia twirled her finger. The handsome stranger crossed his arms and waited, now amused. “I accidentally bumped into you, which I apologized for. And instead of giving me a brief, nonchalant smile and walking away, you say...”
“Would you like me to autograph a rock for you?” he replied.
Attention! Did someone lose their odd duck? Anybody? Gia was absolutely stunned. Weirdos are weirdos, no matter how good-looking they are.
“Okay, now I’m walking away—”
"Wait." Mr. Looney took hold of her arm. Gia glared at the hand touching her, and he immediately dropped it.
“Look, I just thought you were gonna make the same ol’ comment like everyone has done before.”
“How can you say that when I don’t even know you?” she said. Where were Mr. Sexy and Ms. Pretty at with the food? Nevertheless, Gia was one to just run for the hills during an awkward encounter such as this, hence why she was inching the gap further between herself and him. Yeah, there was plenty of people around, but crazier things have happened during broad daylight.
“You’re right. My apologies.” He bowed his head slightly.
“S’okay.” Gia wrote off this conversation as a dud.
Perhaps he was having a bad day, and she was caught in the crosshairs. Frankly, she didn't much care. And her stomach was starting to growl.
"I'm afraid if I introduce myself, you'll high-tail it, and that'll be unfortunate on my part." His eyebrows pressed together.
“Why?”
“Because then I wouldn’t get the chance to get to know the beautiful woman who is standing right in front of me.”
Gia proved that a person can be utterly speechless twice in under three minutes. She glanced left and right to see if he was referring to somebody else. Nope. They stood by themselves, next to the three-foot wall dividing the sidewalk and the long expanse of the boardwalk. She swerved around the minor flirtation and flat out asked him who he was.
“Chris Burke.”
Blindside: 1, Gia: 0
His pale blue eyes were the same as the pair that glared out at her from the back of a limo. Gia wanted to slap her forehead.
“Thinking of walking away again?” Chris smiled broadly. Flawless. Not exactly a word she’d use for a man who she was pegging to be a murderer.
“Little bit,” she said honestly.
Chris laughed. “May I ask what your name is?”
“Gia Rizzo,” she said.
“Rizzo,” he drawled. “Do you have relatives who own the breakfast diner?”
“Sunny Side Up, yes. My parents run it.” Wait. Why was she engaging?
“My father wanted that place too. I guess another apology is in order.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” Gia unexpectedly softened.
“Can’t help it. I’ve been doing it most of my life. I’m even apologizing to myself for continuing to do his bidding,” he explained. “That morning, I finally sucked up the nerve to tell him that I was done and had enrolled in veterinary school. You can imagine what a disaster that turned out to be." He snorted. "Father told our driver to stop the car, and I just ditched and headed for the
cottages, but ended up sitting at a bar with a glass in my hand.” Various emotions passed over Chris’s face. Gia was having trouble identifying them.
“It’s viewed as suspicious that you just left and hiked it twenty minutes to get drunk. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“I see a lot of things.” He winked.
Gia ignored the leer and continued. “What is your answer to the people who ask if you did do it?” Blunt was the color Gia loved to wear.
“Nothing. I let them think what they want.” He stared at her for a long moment. A jingling noise signaled from his pocket where a cell phone peeked out. Chris swiped the screen, chuckling at whatever he was reading. “Ha. Adam’s locked out.”
“Your chauffeur? Why hasn’t he returned home yet?”
“The sheriff doesn’t want either of us to leave town until the case is solved. Especially Adam, since he’s kind of a witness. We share one of the rental cottages. The beds are a bit lumpy, but they’ll do until I get back to my apartment.” He flipped a strand of hair off his forehead. “Anyway, I hope to bump into you again Gia.” He saluted before sprinting across the street to an orange and white town rental car.
“G, who was that?" Tony asked, scaring the crap out of her. Her attention was solely on Chris retreating, and therefore hadn't heard Tony nor Jennie approach. They were carrying a brown paper bag and drinks in a disposable tray.
“Chris,” she replied.
Tony’s frown deepened. Jennie looked at her like she was losing a few screws.
“Chris, as in an old school friend, Chris? Or Chris, the man who likes to hit folks in the head with rocks?” Jennie narrowed her eyes at Gia.
“I’m not sure.”
Fish in a cone, one of Gia’s favorite seafood dishes, was beer-battered fried cod in a newspaper shaped like a cone. Inside, the fish and potato wedge fries were protected by wax paper that lined the cone. Gia used the lemon slice given to squeeze tart droplets on the crispy white meat. The cone was convenient to simply hold while munching on the delicious flaky cod with a fork.
"Is anyone else reeling from running into a roadblock?" Jennie asked, dipping her piece in tartar sauce. After settling on a long bench at the edge of the beach and dividing the food, Gia shared the chat she and Chris shared.
Of course, there wasn't much they could take away from it all.
Gia chowed down, ignoring the increasing storm clouds of confusion in her brain. Once they were all done, she gathered everyone's wrappers and walked to a nearby trash can. She stepped around hordes of people who added to the growing foot traffic as they were making a beeline for the beach.
Gia plopped next Tony, dropping her head back. She sighed, loudly. “I’m beat,” she confessed.
Something she didn’t want to be. Though, how can a person continue to search for something when all that was there was just static? Goodness, she wanted to scoop Petey in her arms and lie on the floor, hugging him and wishing the past few days never happened.
Tony kneaded her neck. “Let’s go home and regroup. We can start fresh tomorrow,” he suggested.
“But—”
“Your scruffy boytoy is right,” Jennie added. “Maybe a clue will become clear once we give it some time.”
How much time? Gia thought.
Tony shot daggers at her cousin. “Scruffy?” He rubbed the stubble along his jaw.
“Uh-oh, is your self-esteem tied to your physical appearance?” Jennie smirked.
“Maybe.”
A shirtless man with long blond hair sprinted over to them, kicking up sand in his wake. He nodded in greeting before inspecting Jennie from head to toe.
“Uh, can I help you?” Jennie arched a brow at their visitor.
“I’m Judd. My buddies and I are doing a photoshoot for Surfer’s Monthly.” He pointed to a group of topless, tan m
en. An older gentleman stood out from the crowd wearing a polo T-shirt and cargo shorts. He carried a long-lensed camera. “The photographer dude says he needs a girl to complete the shot.”
“And you want me to be that girl?” Jennie beamed, running a hand through long tendrils.
“You’d be perfect,” the guy said, smiling back. “Can you spare a few minutes to pose on a surfboard that we’d lift you up on?”
“Well, duh!” Like she was ready for this moment her whole life, Jennie stripped off her T-shirt to reveal a red bikini top, and tossed the shirt to Gia. “We’ll leave after this,” she promised her friends, then frolicked in the sand following after Judd.
“She’s a strange one,” Tony commented.
“Jennie? She is, isn’t she?” She laughed.
In the bowels of her purse, her cell phone buzzed with an incoming call. Reese.
“I may have something,” he immediately said when she answered.
“Hold on.” Gia scooted closer to Tony for him to listen. Putting the phone on speaker would draw attention. “Go ahead.”
"I was digging through the properties Burke purchased—nothing in Greenville or JewelCove, but mostly vacant warehouses in West Emily. But he also bought a shabby apartment building to restore. However, there were tenants living in the building, and once the landlord sold it, all those people were forced to leave.”
“Is that even legal?”
“Sadly, yes. A brief investigation was conducted when Burke wanted them out. The former landlord has a clause in the agreement stating if sold, the new owner is allowed to evict said tenants, allowing a thirty-day notice.”
“How many people were forced to leave?”
“Fifty-three,” Reese replied. “I’m telling you this because I came across the death certificate of the former landlord, Dennis Frazier. He was murdered— bludgeoned to death with an aluminum bat—a week after he signed everything over to Burke. I can’t pinpoint it, but something is off about it.”
