Safety in Blunders (The Worst Detective Ever Book 3)

by Christy Barritt

  He cringed. “Okay, not really.”

  “You’re a con artist who preys on other people’s desire to make it big. That’s despicable. And vile. And you should be in jail.”

  “Read my contract. I’ve done nothing wrong. I do send the shots to people in New York.”

  “Just like they could do themselves. You’re not a talent scout, and you have no personal connections. That’s just wrong.” I leaned closer. “Did you even take those pictures on your website?”

  I’d checked his website, and his pictures had been top grain. Suspiciously top grain.

  When he said nothing, I knew the truth. No, he hadn’t. He probably stole them from some stock-photo sites, if I had to guess.

  “What about an umbrella?” I continued. “Did Cora use one for her photo shoot?”

  His face wrinkled in off-putting confusion. “An umbrella? Like a beach umbrella? No, why would she do that? Mermaids don’t use beach umbrellas.”

  I shrugged. “Just curious.”

  “We’re going to need to see those pictures of Cora,” Jackson said.

  “That’s a problem.”

  “Why?”

  “Because someone stole my camera.”

  “When did that happen?” Jackson asked.

  “Right after the photo shoot. I left the camera in the car and ran in to pay for some gas. When I got back, my camera was gone.”

  “Where’d you get the one you used today then?” Jackson asked.

  “A pawn shop. I’m barely making ends meet. Without a camera, I can’t do photo shoots, so I had little choice but to buy a new one. It was painful though.”

  “Mark, take him down to the station, and see if his story checks out.” Jackson handed him off to another officer. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Andre was still talking, yammering away, as Mark and two other officers led him to a patrol car. When they were out of sight, I turned to Jackson, feeling a touch of triumph.

  “I totally know what my tweet blitz is going to be for this. First day with the Hashtag: NHPDBlue is a success. Just call me Dennis Franz, only prettier.” I made duck lips and posed like a hip-hop star. “And even better, I didn’t ruin things!”

  I reached forward to give Jackson a high five. As I did so, I lost my balance and face-planted in the sand.

  When everyone had left, Jackson turned to me there on the sandy shores. I pulled my sweatshirt closer, and my stomach grumbled, reminding me how hungry I was. The good news was that I no longer wore the mermaid tail and now donned some comfy leggings instead.

  “How’d you know about the umbrella stand?” Jackson’s laser-beam gaze sliced into me.

  My cheeks heated. I’d been caught! Again! Daggonit! Jackson wasn’t supposed to know that I knew about that. “Didn’t you mention it?”

  “No, I didn’t.” He turned away from the sun glaring behind me. “Joey, have you been investigating again? On your own?”

  “Investigating would be a strong word. I was just asking some questions.”

  He let out a sigh. “Joey, have you not learned anything from the last two investigations you got tangled up in?”

  “What do you mean? I helped solve them, didn’t I? Maria Salvatore would agree, as would millions of her viewers.”

  “And you almost got yourself killed in the process.”

  “Almost is the key word here.” If in doubt, keep it light. It’d always worked for me in the past.

  “I’m serious, Joey.” And for Jackson, if in doubt, keep everything heavy enough to sink like an anchor.

  I had no question about the fact he was serious. I pushed my hair away from my face, buying myself a moment of thought. “Is that the only reason you agreed to bring me along with you? You want to keep an eye on me and keep me out of trouble.”

  “Someone has to!”

  I raised my chin and crossed my arms in defiance. I didn’t want to be a thorn in his side, yet I was certain he viewed me that way. Nor did I want him to feel like he had to babysit me. No thank you.

  “I never asked anyone to be my guardian. I’m doing just fine on my own.” I was actually doing terrible on my own, but I wouldn’t admit it right now.

  “No one does just fine on their own, Joey. Life isn’t designed to work like that.”

  “Sometimes a person doesn’t have any choice.” I hadn’t intended to admit that. To have this argument. To face off against Jackson.

  Neither of us spoke. We stared at each other, tension stretching between us.

  Until his phone rang. He mumbled a few things into it before turning to me.

  “There’s someone at the station who claims to have some answers,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Jackson and I hardly said anything to each other on the drive back to police headquarters. I had so many thoughts running through my head, starting with: How could I have been so stupid to mention that umbrella stand? That quickly morphed into, why couldn’t Jackson just appreciate me for doing a good job out there? I’d totally nailed it as the White Mermaid.

  Before we walked inside the police station, Jackson turned to me in all of my wannabe mermaid glory. “I’m meeting with one of Cora’s friends, Rachel Lewis. You can listen in as I talk to her. But that’s it.” He sliced his hand through the air. “You’re simply there to observe. If you step out of line, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  Offense rose in me. Jackson had no faith in me. No faith at all. And I didn’t appreciate it.

  Yet I didn’t want to miss this opportunity. “Fine.”

  I wanted to change into some jeans and a nice shirt, but instead I’d leave on my leggings and sweatshirt. It didn’t look professional, but at least I wasn’t still wearing a mermaid tail. From what I gathered by eavesdropping on Jackson’s phone conversation on the way here, another detective was going to interrogate Andre. I had a feeling the man wasn’t guilty. That was simply based on a gut feeling that had formed while watching his reactions to our questions. I felt pretty confident that Jackson was on the same page.

  We walked into his office, and a woman sat in a chair there. Officer Loose Lips—also known as Danny Something or Other—stood beside her, waiting for Jackson to arrive.

  I’d given several of the officers here nicknames. Officer Always Serious Byron. Officer I Like Duck Donuts Windsor. Officer Thick Neck Jenkins.

  Jackson gave Loose Lips a subtle nod, and the rookie officer departed like a well-trained lackey.

  How did Jackson do that? Wherever he went, he seemed to command respect. But it was so subtle.

  And so appealing.

  Which was so stupid. Because the man drove me crazy. I didn’t even like him half the time. Yet he was crazy attractive to me.

  Which was just one more way I always got myself in trouble: men.

  I glanced at the woman sitting in front of Jackson’s desk. She was youngish. Maybe in her twenties, but she could easily pass for a teen. She had dirty-blond hair that fell below her shoulders, and pale skin with numerous blemishes—dark circles, a smattering of zits, poorly applied makeup. She wore tight jeans and a cheap T-shirt.

  I kind of wanted to give her a day at the spa, complete with a facial and some highlights. Some people just couldn’t catch a break, and I had a feeling Rachel was one of those people.

  “Rachel.” Jackson extended his hand. “I’m Detective Sullivan. This is Ms. Darling. She’s just here to observe.”

  He emphasized the word observe. Loser.

  Rachel’s eyes widened when she saw me. I had that effect on people. Sometimes because I was famous, and other times because I was so oblivious.

  “You’re doing research, aren’t you?” Rachel said, still staring. “Do you have a new show coming up? I can’t wait to see Family Secrets. It looks like a blockbuster. You and Jessica Alba? How could you go wrong?”

  “Thanks.” I clearly felt the dirty look Jackson gave me.

  He didn’t seem to appreciate it when other people admired me. Did he not think actin
g was commendable? Maybe he simply resented my presence.

  “If Cora knew you were helping search for her, she would just flip. She loved your show, and she heard you were in this area. She talked about coming down sometime just to see if she could spot you. Maybe even take a selfie together.”

  “I’m . . . flattered.”

  “She mourned for days when you and Eric split,” Rachel continued, Jackson’s presence seemingly long forgotten. “She thought you two were perfect together. She was all like, if they can’t make, then what makes me think I can make it with Elrod?”

  “Things aren’t always what they appear on the surface.” The words hurt as they left my lips. But I didn’t want anyone to hold up Eric and me as the standard for a perfect relationship.

  “At least you were able to hook up with that hot surfer. I saw it online somewhere.”

  “We haven’t hooked up,” I corrected. “I’m single. Totally single right now.”

  “For real?” She looked disappointed.

  It was so hard living someone else’s fantasy.

  Okay, now I desperately wanted Jackson to take over this conversation. “For real. So, about Cora . . .”

  “Right.” Rachel straightened. “Cora. Any updates on her?”

  Just then, another officer brought in three cups of coffee. Jackson took a seat behind the desk, and I stood against the wall, where any good observer might. I took a sip of the police department–grade coffee and nearly spit it out. It tasted like it should have grounds floating inside it. I looked more closely. It did have grounds floating in it.

  “We were hoping you might have information for us that would help,” Jackson said, wisely ignoring his cup of hot java. He could have warned me, at least. Double loser.

  “No, I haven’t heard from her since she left to come down here.”

  “Was she having any trouble with anyone?” Jackson asked.

  “Besides her boyfriend?”

  Jackson crossed his very able arms over his very defined chest. “Tell us about that.”

  “Well, Elrod might seem like a nice enough guy, but he was slightly controlling. He didn’t want her to go do this photo shoot. At all.” Rachel’s hands flew through the air as she spoke.

  “Why not?” Jackson asked.

  “He was afraid that fame would change her. That he’d lose her. That’s my theory at least.” She glanced back at me. “You know all about that, huh, Joey?”

  I drew in a shaky breath and forced a smile. That was how my father must have felt when I left for Hollywood. And he was right. “Fame is a beast that not many people can tame.”

  “Oh my goodness. That’s a great quote. I love it.”

  “I try.” I totally needed to tweet that. Hashtag: inspirationwhileonthesetofNHPDBlue.

  “About Cora . . .” Jackson said, trying to keep us on track.

  “The first chance Cora got, she was going to break away from this small town. She wanted to go to LA or New York.”

  “And become a professional mermaid?” I asked, still stunned that people took mermaid-dom so seriously.

  “Well, that was one of her plans. She would have taken any modeling gig. Or maybe a role in a soap opera. She’d even applied for some game shows.”

  “Her end goal was fame, in other words,” I muttered, leading to another scowl from Jackson. I was supposed to stay quiet.

  “I guess you could say that. She kind of stumbled into the mermaid thing by accident. She was wearing her costume at the beach and then was asked to do a few parties in the area. Then she did a couple of gigs at the aquarium. People seemed to really like her. She thought that might be a good way to break in.”

  Jackson started to say something, but I had to jump in. Again.

  “What do you mean parties? Like kid parties?” I just couldn’t figure this out.

  “No, like grown-men parties. Women too, I guess, though all Cora talked about was the men. It was kind of weird.”

  This sounded like the start of something ugly. Really ugly. “Where were these parties?”

  “Here. In the Outer Banks. They were very posh, apparently. That’s how Cora made it sound.”

  “What did she do while there?” I continued.

  “She wore her mermaid costume. Mingled. Added atmosphere, I guess.”

  Jackson threw me a stern glance. “Did Elrod approve of these parties?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Cora didn’t tell him she was going.”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and he tapped his fingers together. “Do you think Elrod would hurt her?”

  Rachel frowned and adjusted her legs in the seat, pulling them both toward her and looping her arms around her knees. “I’m not sure. I’d like to say no. That’s my first instinct. But who really knows anyone?”

  “One more question,” Jackson said. “Why did she choose Nags Head Woods for her photo shoot? Do you know?”

  She twisted her lips. “She seemed obsessed with the area lately.”

  “What do you mean?” Jackson asked.

  “I don’t know. I mean, she always liked it there, but even more so lately. This newfound obsession started a few days ago. I caught her doing some research online. Then she took me hiking there one day, but she didn’t seem all chill, if you know what I mean. She kept looking around, like she was lost or something. And she refused to stay on the trails. She said it was more fun if we did our own thing.” She froze. “I’m not going to get arrested for that or anything, am I?”

  Jackson shook his head before narrowing his eyes in thought. “Did you ask her about it?”

  “I was like, what’s your problem? And she was like, nothing, why? I was like, because you’re acting all weird. And she was like, no, I’m not. And I was like, you totally are.”

  Jackson raised a hand. “I get it. So you have no clue why she liked it so much?”

  She shook her head. “No, not a single one.”

  Back at home, I had to talk to Zane. Because if anyone knew about parties in this area, it was Zane. He was a regular social butterfly with more friends than a migration of monarchs. Rachel’s revelation about Cora working parties in the OBX seemed like the next possible lead as to where to look for answers.

  As soon as Zane answered the door, I charged into his duplex, my mind racing a million miles a minute. I just hoped he didn’t have any women there—either massage clients or new girlfriends I didn’t know about.

  Story of my life.

  “What’s going on?” He shut the door and followed behind me, munching on some peanuts.

  I seriously wished I had his metabolism. I’d been so hungry on the way home from the police station that I’d gone through a drive-through. Of a fast-food restaurant. And I’d gotten a fatty hamburger loaded with mayonnaise and cheese, as well as some french fries. That I’d dipped in ranch dressing.

  My stomach already felt three inches larger than it had been earlier.

  “Who in this area might have parties with mermaids?” I blurted, forcing myself to focus.

  Zane twisted his head in thought. “Besides people in their mer-kingdom and little children who love Disney cartoons?”

  “I’m being for real. Yes. Not kids.” I lowered my voice. “You know what I mean.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I was wrapped up in my Bob Ross Zen.” He closed his eyes a moment. “Let me change gears.”

  I paced, knowing I probably wasn’t making a lick of sense but charging forward anyway. “Apparently, there are people in this area who have parties and pay people dressed as mermaids to come entertain. Do you know who?”

  I followed Zane as he walked into the kitchen and turned off a small TV in the corner where The Joy of Painting played. He took his place behind a cutting board and began to chop vegetables that were already laid out. Based on the juicer on the counter, he was going to make a tasty drink.

  In between eating peanuts.

  “Mermaid parties sound very lavish and colorful,” he said, chopping some celery.

  “You�
�re still not answering my question.” I stopped pacing for long enough to stare at him.

  He continued chopping. “I’m guessing whoever is attending these parties may not be full-time residents but people from out of town.”

  “I thought this was a family vacation town?”

  He shrugged. “It usually is. But there are always outliers.”

  “Have you ever been invited to a party like that? An outlier party?”

  His cheeks reddened ever so slightly, but he continued chopping. “Maybe once.”

  “Who threw it?”

  He fidgeted. Why didn’t he want to tell me? There was more to this story; I was sure of it.

  “Zane?” I waited, giving no indication of giving up this interrogation.

  He let out a deep breath and paused from his moment of vegetable bliss. “Billy. Billy had a party like that a month or so ago. He’s probably had more since then.”

  “Billy Corbina from Willie Wahoo’s?” The man had always remained a sketchy character in my mind. His dad was one of the wealthiest men in the area. Though I had no confirmation that Billy was into anything illegal, I had my suspicions. I also wondered if he might know something about my father’s disappearance.

  Zane nodded. “Yep, the one and only.”

  “Did you go?”

  He took a bite of a carrot. “No, I didn’t go. He’s usually up to trouble. He always has been.”

  I stopped in the middle of my mad pacing. “You mean, you’ve known Billy since he was younger?”

  “We went to high school together.”

  I nodded slowly, letting that sink in. I knew Zane had done drugs back then, and now I wondered what kind of role Billy may have played in that. I’d bet there was a connection.

  I pressed my hands on the counter. “What happens at those parties, Zane?”

  He stepped back, and I could see the tension on his features. Not the best look for a person with a knife in his hands. “My best guess? Drugs. Women. Gambling. Who knows what else? Nothing I want to be a part of.”

  “Why would Billy have mermaids there?”

  “I’m sure it just adds to his over-the-top effect.”