Eyeliner & Alibis

by Stephanie Damore

  About two hours later, our meal was complete and I was fully sated. I no longer cared about Tess or anyone else besides the man I was dining with. If Detective Blackwood wanted to focus on Dr. Stewart, so be it.

  Finn and I left the restaurant and walked hand in hand around South Tampa, strolling along the boutique and palm tree-lined streets. It was like Port Haven, only more luxurious. We walked past a vacant storefront and I paused for longer than I’d intended.

  “So, can you see it?”

  “Hmm?” I was still lost in my thoughts, but I knew what Finn meant. I tried to brush off his comment, but yeah, I could see it. The atmosphere felt right. Maybe Izzy’s intuition had started to rub off on me, or maybe that crystal she gave me was to blame, but I was definitely feeling some good vibrations. Still, I played devil’s advocate. “But just because I can see it, doesn’t mean it can happen.”

  “Babe, if anyone can make it happen, I know you can.”

  Well, maybe not just me. It might take a couple of lucrative deals, and Izzy would have to be interested in managing the Port Haven store full time, but wasn’t that what she was already doing?

  I turned around to stare at the open storefront. I had no idea how much rent cost or what the demographics of the area was like, but I was already envisioning the layout inside. Finn kissed my head. “Come on, there’s something else I want to show you.”

  Our next stop required us to get in the car. On the drive to the marina, Finn talked on and on about the new boat he’d be captaining. I thought it was only fair to let him ramble on. He was helping me realize my dreams, so the least I could do was let him bask in his new success too. I had spent my fair share of time at marinas with Finn. It was pretty much the life of girlfriends and wives of marina men. I gazed at rows upon rows of docks and boat slips. However, where Murphy’s Bait & Tackle was weathered, this marina was polished. Commercial vessels weren’t taking off from here. This was all residential and recreational.

  “I thought you were going to show me your new boat?” Finn had led me down the dock toward the more residential boats.

  “I am, I am, but first I wanted to show you something really quick.” Finn took me by the hand and led me all the way down the dock toward the far side of the marina. “What do you think?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of a beautiful white houseboat. The wooden vessel looked like it had more deck space than one would ever need for a fishing charter, and I could easily make out the staircase leading to rooms below.

  “It’s lovely,” I replied. The boat wasn’t new, but it had charm. I could see why Finn was drawn to it and I had a feeling I knew what he had in mind. “You’re planning on renovating this, aren’t you?”

  “Bingo. Just picture it—with the deck space like this, you can put a hot tub on it.” I wasn’t sure about the hot tub, but I could appreciate his creativity. “And with open space over here, you could easily have an outdoor couch that wraps around, maybe even a little bar area. Seriously, this open deck is about fifteen feet wide and the boat is fifty feet long. There’s some serious space up here. Come on board with me.”

  I looked around before accepting Finn’s hand. “Are you sure we should be getting on this thing?”

  “Yeah, absolutely. I’ve already had a couple of conversations with the current owner.” From the deck, I could easily understand Finn’s vision. There really was enough space to fit a hot tub and bar and a couch up there. “Here’s the best part. Look at the space below deck.” I followed Finn down the steps and was surprised to see how tall the ceilings were and how much space was below. The only time I’d been in the bottom of a boat, I’d found a dead body, so this was much more pleasant. The core was a bit dated—1980s at least—but just like above, the lower deck also had potential.

  “Just picture it, babe. We can easily replace these appliances over here with a full-sized refrigerator, stove, sink, everything … just like a custom RV. Then down the hall here are two bedrooms. All I have to do is replace the wood paneling with something a bit nicer-looking, and replace the floors. We could add some bamboo floors, maybe maple cabinets, or even birch.” Finn was daydreaming and I found it adorable. I had no doubt that the man would be able to renovate this boat. I had seen him work wonders with his apartment. If he could turn that empty shell of a building into a modern-day living space, I was sure he could do the same with this boat.

  “And I think we should live here,” Finn said, turning around to take my hand and gauge my reaction.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Think about it. It’s the perfect solution. It’s a boat and a house. I could dock it at the marina in Port Haven, or we could keep it here in Tampa. We’d have a home wherever we go.”

  Okay, I liked the sound of that and all. “But what about Captain Jack?” I couldn’t see how my little dog could live on a houseboat.

  “There’s a dog run right next to the marina. It’s part of the services that come with the boat slip. Heck, a dog lives on this boat right now.” Finn motioned to the oversize food and water bowl tucked underneath the kitchen counter. By the size of those bowls, I guessed it was a much bigger dog than my miniature poodle.

  “I’m not asking you to marry me—”

  “—Yes,” I interrupted him.

  “Yes? Yes, what?”

  “I want to marry you.” That revelation didn’t freak me out, make me want to run away, or act like a total psycho the way it would’ve even a couple of months ago.

  “You want to marry me? But I didn’t ask you!”

  “What, are you saying, you don’t want to marry me?” I gave Finn the eye.

  “Ugh, you are such a butt.” And then Finn did something I didn’t expect. He got down on one knee and pulled a little black box out of his cargo shorts pocket. My heart skipped a beat, but in a good way.

  “Ziva Marie Diaz, I love you with every ounce of my being, even when you drive me crazy. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  “YES!” I held out my shaky hand for Finn to slide on the ring.

  The last time a man proposed to me, I was more in love with the ring than the man. This time, the ring was just a nice bonus. Finn knew I had a thing for colored diamonds and his choice of ring did not disappoint. The antique cushion-cut pink diamond was surrounded by a halo of tiny white diamonds, all set in rose gold. Did I ever mention I have a thing for pink? Especially when it comes to diamonds and champagne. The ring sparkled brilliantly back at me.

  “My dad!” I suddenly thought back to tradition and felt a pang of guilt.

  “He knows.”

  “What?!”

  “I asked him about a month ago.”

  “You did not.”

  “Honey, I’ve known I wanted to marry you for a while, so I let your parents know.”

  “Ah, that would explain how adamant he was about me making amends with you.”

  Finn chuckled and gave me that irresistible grin. “He may have been privy to some classified information.”

  I smiled back and wrapped him in a hug. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I looked around the deck of the boat, down to my ring, and back at Finn. I felt so blessed I thought I’d cry.

  “We need to go before I get all emotional on you,” I said, trying to will back my happy tears.

  “You’re so cute when you cry.”

  “I am not!” Once I started, I knew I would melt into a blubbering mess.

  “Okay, we can go. How do you think we should celebrate?”

  “Oh, I can think of a few ideas,” I said with a wink.

  As we left the dock, I glanced over my shoulder once more. Yeah, this all felt right, but my happiness was short-lived when I thought of Dr. Stewart and Mary Jane both grieving over their deceased spouses. One would suppose that maybe they shouldn’t grieve so hard, seeing that their spouses had cheated on them, but I’d found that the heart didn’t work that way. Of course, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, not anymore. If I ever fo
und out that Finn cheated on me and we were married, I’d probably be the one to kill him. Just kidding, mostly. But I can guarantee I would be a prime suspect. I understood why the police, make that Detective Blackwood, had zoomed in so tightly on Dr. Stewart after not being able to get anything to stick on me.

  Finn and I stopped by a party store to pick up a bottle of bubbly to celebrate our new engagement. Pink bubbly, of course. Unfortunately, we never did get a chance until much later to pop the cork as Cee Cee called me, frantically shouting into the phone, “Someone tried to kill Dr. Stewart at his office. I’m headed there now.”

  It might’ve just been a coincidence, but at that same moment, a firetruck and an ambulance whizzed by us, headed the same direction as Dr. Stewart’s office. You know in those cop movies where a call comes in from dispatch and the officers jump in their car? That was Finn and me right at that minute. If we’d had a portable siren, I would have slapped that sucker on the roof of the car in a heartbeat.

  “Turn left,” I instructed Finn. I was too anxious to drive. The directions ended up being pointless because we were, in fact, following the emergency vehicles. They pulled into Dr. Stewart’s parking lot a second before we did. Out front, a handful of witnesses were shuffling around, looking confused and slightly scared. Cee Cee popped up shortly thereafter, along with a couple of local news stations. Hold the phone, is that CNN over there?!

  I looked around the building for any sign of what had just happened. No one was screaming, and I didn’t see any smoke, so it couldn’t have been something major.

  Kelly, Dr. Stewart’s receptionist, was front and center trying to control the crowd. Finn and I walked up to her and asked how we could help.

  “What’s going on? I heard there’s been an accident?” I wasn’t sure how else to word it, having no idea what had happened.

  “I’m not really sure, but someone tried to kill Dr. Stewart.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were having a food day in the office and, I don’t know, but it looks like someone slipped some sort of peanut into one or all of the dishes.”

  “Oh my goodness, are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”

  “No way, we all know how severe Dr. Stewart’s allergy is. In fact, all of us make everything from scratch and are very diligent about preventing cross-contamination. No store-bought stuff here. This was definitely deliberate.”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Katie is with him now. She gave him his injection and hooked him up to oxygen right away. His other nurse got a breathing treatment ready, and I called 911 and came outside to wait for them.”

  I looked over at Finn and knew he was wondering the same thing. Who would want to kill Dr. Stewart? Off the top of my head—Mary Jane. She had barged into his office and threatened him earlier in the week. Was she really crazy enough to kill someone? The other possibility that came to mind was Marissa’s parents. Brad had mentioned how much they despised him. Parents do a lot of crazy things for their kids. I wondered if it was possible for Marissa’s mother or father to attempt to kill their son-in-law. Yet another twist to this already confusing mystery.

  19

  I wasn’t sure what I’d expected Mr. and Mrs. Morrison’s house to look like, but this wasn’t it. I got out of Finn’s truck and shut the door, surveying the doublewide in front of me.

  The Morrisons had a postage stamp-sized front yard, with rows of similar-styled homes all stacked down the road together. A navy-blue Buick Century was parked under the carport. White flower boxes overflowed with red and orange flowers, some of them marigolds, or so I thought. My flower IQ is pretty pathetic, even after spending time learning about plants’ homeopathic characteristics, thanks to my friend Vicki, who taught classes at the conservatory. Right now, if it didn’t have some promise in the skincare community, I was clueless.

  The home’s heavy wooden door was already open. It was a cool day for South Florida, with the temperature only promising to be seventy, and the residents seemed to be taking advantage of it by turning off the air conditioning and letting in some fresh air.

  Finn and I walked up to the porch and he rapped on the screen door. A woman with curly red hair, sporting an old-fashioned apron, answered the front door.

  “Good afternoon and God bless, how may I help you?”

  I looked to Finn to take the lead. Like the house, the picture this woman portrayed was so far removed from my expectations that I was speechless.

  “Hi, Mrs. Morrison. My name is Finn Hudson and this is my fiancée, Ziva Diaz.” Finn couldn’t help but smile when he said the word fiancée, and I may have sported a goofy grin in return, before remembering where we were. “Ziva here knew your daughter and we heard what happened. We know you two were close and we wanted to see if we could help in any way.” I wasn’t sure if Mrs. Morrison would buy it. After all, who knew how many people had been knocking on her door recently, but she opened the screen and invited us in anyway.

  Her home was as neat as a pin, with throw pillows placed on the sofa just so. The carpet had marks from the vacuum cleaner, in perfect horizontal passes. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen, or a magazine out of place. The woman was even wearing high heels for cripes sake, and I could see the pink-colored ruffles of her dress fan out from underneath her apron. She escorted us through her living room to her kitchen directly behind it.

  “Wow.” I hadn’t been able to keep my thoughts to myself. It was like a bakery back there. Six pies took up the entire kitchen table, cooling on metal racks. Her countertops were covered in parchment paper with dozens upon dozens of cookies lined up, some with chocolate chips and some waiting to be frosted. And still she had room for twenty or so cupcakes, topped with chocolate frosting and multicolored sprinkles. My stomach rumbled at just the thought of getting to taste one.

  “You haven’t by chance been about delivering any of this, have you?” Finn asked Mrs. Morrison.

  She looked at him as if he were crazy. With wide eyes she responded, “Delivering them? These are for my daughter’s funeral.” A sob escaped when she said the word funeral, but she quickly recovered. “As Ziva here probably knows, my daughter had a major sweet tooth. I thought, what better way to honor her than to fill her memorial with dozens of desserts.” Of course, I didn’t know that. Maybe if I had, Marissa and I wouldn’t have gotten off to such a bad start. I was also thinking I might need to crash Marissa’s memorial service later. Shame on me, I know.

  “Do you need any help?” I asked, looking around at the display. The timer on the oven beeped and Mrs. Morrison zipped over to remove a batch of brownies.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ve got it. Mr. Morrison will be home soon to help me finish, and then we’re taking everything over to the church.”

  I knew I had to tread carefully here, but I wondered if Mrs. Morrison’s impression of Brad was really as bad as he thought it was. I tested the waters with, “I ran into Marissa’s husband—”

  “—Murderer! Mark my words: He is going to spend an eternity with the devil.” Mrs. Morrison had a spatula in her hand and was pointing it right at my chest. I took a step back. Yes, Brad had been correct.

  “Have you had a chance to talk with him? It’s just, he seems devastated.”

  “It’s all an act. Don’t let him fool you. It was always an act with Brad; that’s why Marissa was leaving him. Her father and I couldn’t have been happier. If only we could have prevented the wedding in the first place.” Mrs. Morrison closed her eyes and I took another step back, waiting for the waterworks, but they never came. “I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting losing my daughter to that man.”

  “Someone tried to kill him today,” Finn added. I caught the look in her eyes at the same time he did. I swear she almost smiled, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I then wondered where Mr. Morrison had been off to. Maybe he was the one who had snuck the contaminated food into the doctor’s office. It would’ve been a clever way to kill someone with a low c
hance of being caught, that’s for sure.

  “Well, I see that you’re busy. We’ll get out of your hair. We just wanted to stop by and offer our condolences.” Mrs. Morrison didn’t keep us and she didn’t offer a cookie to-go either, but you could bet Finn and I would be stopping by a bakery before driving off too far.

  I ended up going with a tuxedo cupcake, a frosted sugar cookie, and a chunk of peanut butter fudge. Finn ordered all that and more—yet another reason to love the man. We took our goodies and found a shaded spot outside the bakery to sit and indulge in our treats.

  “Should I grab the champagne?”

  My eyes lit up and that was all the encouragement Finn needed. He popped back into the bakery to request a couple of Styrofoam cups and then disappeared back to his truck for a minute. When he came back, he had two cups full of my favorite pink bubbly, and no one else was the wiser.

  “Cheers, babe. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I accepted the kiss and took a sip.

  “Pink champagne, chocolate, a nice little bling on my finger. You know I’m pretty much in heaven, right?”

  “Ha, I’ll have to remember that next time you’re mad at me.”

  “No one said love was cheap,” I joked.

  “You’re worth it.”

  “Stop it before you make me blush, or pull you away for a quickie.” Finn looked pleasantly surprised at my offer.

  “See, I told you I knew how to make you happy too.” We may have been trying to solve a murder, but there was always time for flirting.

  Finn cleared his throat. “So, what did you make of Mrs. Morrison?” he asked, biting into his tuxedo cupcake. The chocolate cupcakes dipped in ganache and then topped with white cream frosting were his favorite, and I was already picturing us serving them at our wedding. I had to stop myself for a minute. We had just gotten engaged a couple of hours ago and here I was making wedding plans.

  “We have to have these at the wedding,” Finn said.