by Esme Addison
She parked and followed the path to a glass entrance at the back of the building, checked the floor directory in the lobby, and stepped into the elevator. She got off on the top floor and was immediately confronted with a large, three-dimensional red sign that read “BLIPPO.” Alex signed the guestbook and told the receptionist she was there to see Aaron Ashley. She’d fibbed and said she was from the property management company and wanted to survey random supervisors for a quality-of-life survey. She’d made that up on her way over, and she hoped it was believable.
Boldly, Alex held up her business card to the woman. “My card?” The young woman shook her head, and after a cursory glance at Alex’s chic pants and blouse ensemble, she didn’t even bat an eye and buzzed her through two large doors, giving her directions on how to find Aaron.
It was after four, and many of the desks were empty, with a few people working at standing desks or sitting on bright orange stabilizing chairs. Inspirational quotes by famous visionaries decorated the wall, and there was an old-fashioned popcorn machine full of freshly popped corn. The tantalizing butter smell floated on the air as Alex passed a Ping-Pong table and an old-school arcade game before finding the office in question.
The door was open, but she knocked anyway. “Mr. Ashley?” Her grin was big and welcoming.
The man, in his early fifties and with a receding hairline sat behind a desk. He stood and automatically stuck out a hand. “Aaron Ashley. Nice to meet you.” He gestured toward a leather chair on the other side of his desk. “Kiera said you were with Wesley?”
Alex only smiled in response. Better to keep things vague, but to the point. “I understand that you were Chris Robinson’s boss?”
He leaned back in chair, frown lines appearing on his forehead. “That’s correct.”
“I just wanted to follow up with a few questions. Can you give your impressions of Chris?”
Aaron looked confused. “I’ve already talked to the police.”
“Just doing our due diligence.” Alex smiled. “Want to make sure this event doesn’t impact the quality of life for the rest of the staff.” She retrieved a pen and pad from her tote bag and affected a concerned expression. “How is everyone taking the news?”
The expression on the man’s face relaxed. “We’re okay. Everyone is surprised. Chris was a nice guy. A hard worker. No one suspected of him using drugs.”
“Not even something for energy? I heard that he was burning the midnight oil working late into the night and on weekends?”
Aaron laughed. “Where’d you hear that? Quite the opposite actually.”
Alex hoped she hid the look of surprise on her face. Hadn’t Evelyn said her husband had been working overtime?
“In fact, it’s a running joke here. If you’re packed up and ready to leave at 4:59 pm … you were pulling a Chris Robinson. And as far as coming here on the weekend? Not Chris.”
“You’re sure?”
“I have to review logs of after-hours and weekend visitors for our department on Monday as part of a security protocol. He’s never been here on a weekend.”
But Evelyn had said that’s where he was. Had he lied to his wife? Maybe he had kept secrets after all. “What can you tell me about Chris’s personal life?”
He eyed her cagily. “Not much. He was very private. A wife. A kid. A picture of his son on his desk. He was really proud of his boy’s grades and his interests. Said he would probably follow in his footsteps.”
“And become an engineer?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“What did you think of his wife?”
“Saw her at Christmas parties. She was always real quiet and unhappy looking until she had a glass or two of eggnog, know what I mean? And then she was all over Chris, trying to get him on the dance floor.”
“Did Chris ever discuss his personal life in the office?”
“Not that I know of, but he was big on current events, though.” He chuckled. “Always the one at the watercooler stirring things up with the latest podcast he listened to or saw on Twitter—you know the type.”
Alex asked a few more questions to support her ruse of doing a survey and then thanked him for his time. Relieved, she stood. She must be a better actress than she thought.
He walked her to the elevator. “No problem. And tell the bigwigs at Wesley there that we could use a new arcade game. We’ve all bested Pac Man. Maybe Donkey Kong?”
* * *
The next morning, after a long hot shower and her first cup of coffee, Alex settled into a comfortable chair and opened her laptop.
Her shift at the shop didn’t begin until two pm, so she could enjoy a leisurely morning. First, she would check her messages, and then—she almost stopped breathing when she saw an e-mail notification float by on her screen.
It was the blogger.
She clicked on the e-mail and scanned it. He’d heard about what happened to Neve and had questions. Could they meet in person to talk? Alex looked up, amazed that, after what Pepper explained had happened to her, he wanted to meet. But she guessed it was because she had real information, and Pepper didn’t.
Alex quickly responded that she could meet any time after six pm—he could just name the time and place. She stared at the screen, wondering how long it would take for a response to come in. It was instantaneous:
Tomorrow, nine pm in the park in front of the mural. Come alone.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex could barely contain her excitement. She would finally get to meet the elusive blogger that evening. Her morning off had seemed to creep by, even though she’d gone for a run on the beach and spent a few hours going over the case with Pepper. Finally, she’d decided to get dressed for work and head in early.
She had just reached the corner of Cypress Lane and Main Street when a red sports car slowed down beside her. She didn’t have to look to know it was Dylan.
He grinned at her. “Hop in—I’ll give you a ride.”
Alex didn’t even think about it. She needed to speak to him. “Thanks.” He revved the engine before taking off. “Show-off,” she said, and buckled her seat belt. “Where are we headed?”
“It’s about lunchtime. If you don’t have someplace to be, why not join me?” Alex nodded, and Dylan grinned. “I know just the place.”
After they’d arrived at a humble sandwich shop, Alex discovered it was takeout only, a hole-in-the-wall place with the best sandwiches in town. She was surprised, knowing Dylan’s champagne and caviar tastes. Alex found a picnic table in the shade while Dylan placed their orders. A few minutes later, he came back with two drinks and baskets with grilled hot dogs and fries. He tossed packets of ketchup, mayo, and vinegar onto the table.
“Wasn’t sure how you eat your fries.”
“Vinegar actually. Grew up with my dad always pouring vinegar over our fries, and I can’t have it any other way.” She glanced at his hot dog, covered in chili, slaw, mustard, and onions. “That looks interesting.”
“Carolina style. Best in the world,” he said, and took a huge bite.
Alex looked down at her own hotdog, covered in ketchup, mustard, onions, and sauerkraut, the closest she could get to the hot dogs she got from vendors on the streets of Manhattan. She also took a bite. It was good, but not the same. No matter—she was hungry.
“Is Montgomery Blue a friend of the family?”
Dylan opened several packets of ketchup and squirted it on his fries. “You could say that. Why do you ask?”
“I found a picture of him and Bryn together on her Instagram account from a year ago.”
He sighed. “Why don’t you leave well enough alone. Bryn can’t hurt you.”
Alex wiped her mouth with her paper napkin. Her hot dog was messy. “I’m just wondering why she was partying on a yacht with him. He knew Neve. There could be a connection.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe they travel in the same circles Bryn has probably been photographed thousands of times at parties.�
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Alex didn’t disagree, but still the connection bothered her. “Does Wesley Inc. have business with Leviathan?”
“Not officially, no.” He took a long pull from his large to-go cup.
“What does that mean?”
“He’d like to do business with us. My mother would like it too.”
“But you don’t?”
“No. His moral compass is—well, I’m not sure he’s got one, frankly.”
“But you do?” He turned to her, hurt written all over his face. “Sorry,” she rushed to say. “I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did.” Alex distracted herself by inspecting her cup and hesitantly tasted it. Her eyes flew open with delight.
“Yes, you did.” He pointed to her drink. “Like it?”
“Yes. What is it? A Coke with raspberry syrup?”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Cheerwine. It’s a cherry-flavored cola made in North Carolina. One of the state’s best exports.”
“I’ve never heard of it, but I like it.”
“Me too. It’s what I’m drinking.”
“But back to Montgomery …” She bit her lip, disliking the clunky transition. “I just find it interesting that you have an ethical bias against working with him. What is it?”
“You do realize that I don’t have to tell you everything just because you ask?”
“I know you and Bryn didn’t see eye to eye about how you ran Wesley. She must’ve had business with him.”
“I didn’t keep up with her. I used to try, but it was exhausting. I stopped. I only interfered when she tried to kill someone I cared about.” He gave her a pointed look.
Alex looked away. He was not shy about making his feelings for her known. “Alright, let’s talk about something you do know about. Pro-Tek. Bio-Tek.”
“What about it?”
“What are you going to do with all of the research that Bryce’s company has?”
“That’s an oddly specific question. Bryce’s company, now Wesley Defense Division business, is top secret, and unfortunately, darling, you’re not cleared for it. Nor should you be.”
“Was Neve cleared for this information? She worked for the company, was around the staff …”
“An artist with a top-secret clearance?” He laughed. “Not to my knowledge, no. What are you getting at?”
“I think something she learned at one of the companies she worked for, maybe Bio-Tek, got her killed. Maybe she told the wrong person?”
“Which would mean you think Bryce had a reason to kill her.” He laughed. “Just because my sister was found guilty of murder—two actually—doesn’t mean I make a habit of hanging around killers.” He looked at her lunch. “You going to finish your fries?”
“No, I’m full. Take them.” She pushed the red-and-white-checkered carton toward him.
Dylan chewed thoughtfully on a fry before speaking. “Did Neve tell you what secret she was keeping?”
Alex looked at him. He was so casual in his tone, but she sensed that her answer was important to him. “Between you and me, yes, she did.”
He inhaled sharply, throwing down the piece of fry in his hand. “She signed NDAs. How could she talk?”
“You know about it too, then?” The mermaid gene. The database.
“Of course I do. It’s my project, my find.”
Surprised at his candor, Alex said, “What are you going to do with this information?” Had someone killed Neve on his behalf? Was it Bryce?
“Make sure it doesn’t get in the wrong hands, for one.”
Alex frowned. Was Dylan the one with a motive to kill Neve? But no … he had an alibi, and he wasn’t a murderer. “And second?”
“Monetize it in a responsible way.”
Monetize the research of the mermaid gene? Alex stared at him in disbelief. “But how can you—how could you? You don’t see that as a kind of betrayal?” Alex stood, needing to think. Every time she thought she had Dylan pegged—this time as the good guy—he did something to prove her wrong.
“Absolutely not. I’d rather it be in my hands than those of a Mundane or a Magical who practices black magic.”
“Like your mother? Like your sister? So, that’s why Bryn was with Montgomery? She wanted to sell the information to him. To do god knows what with?”
“Probably. But I wouldn’t let that happen. It’s safe with me and within the confines of Wesley Inc.”
“That’s why you purchased Tarheel Defense.”
“Yes. They already have the defense industry setup, connections, contracts. It makes our new division competitive at launch.”
“You’re going to sell this information to the government? To the military?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see. But I promise you, it will be done responsibly.”
Alex snorted. “Responsibly my …” She shook her head. “You’re not the only one without a moral compass, Dylan. You’re more like Montgomery Blue than you’d care to admit.”
Alex didn’t understand the look of pain that flickered across his face. But then again, maybe she didn’t really care. She began walking away from him as fast as she could.
“Alex, wait. You’ve got me all wrong.”
“And by the way, the supervisor at Blippo at your office park wants a new video game. You might want to check into that.”
“What?” He stared after her in confusion.
But Alex was in the wind. No more of his lies, she thought as she walked—almost ran—toward the shop.
No more.
* * *
By the time Alex arrived at Botanika, she was covered in sweat and still angry. She greeted her aunt with a tired wave. “I need Calm Down tea.”
“What’s his name?” Aunt Lidia said with a laugh. “And I’ll put a hex on him, no questions asked!”
Alex stopped in her tracks and stared at her aunt for a moment. And then they both burst into laughter. “Dylan Wesley. So infuriating.”
“Those Wesley men are,” Lidia agreed, and she handed Alex a chilled bottle of tea from the barrel by the counter. “Drink up. You’ll feel better.” She grabbed her purse. “I’m meeting Josephine for lunch, and then we’re heading over to the courthouse for Celeste’s hearing. Minka’s volunteered to watch the shop so you can join us. She’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
After finishing the tea, Alex found an apron and wrapped it around her. “Perfect. I’ll come down there as soon as she arrives.”
Chapter Seventeen
By the time the hearing was over, Celeste was free to go home.
Well, not exactly free, but at least she wasn’t locked up in a holding cell. The judge decided to be lenient with Celeste, considering her lack of criminal history, strong family ties, and the character reference provided by Dylan Wesley, along with his personal assurance that she would not leave town. Personal assurances aside, the judge determined that because of the severity of the case, a high bail was necessary.
Tegan Wesley herself agreed to pay the one-million-dollar bond, shocking everyone in the courtroom with her generosity. And once again, Alex wondered, not for the first time, why the Wesleys appeared to have taken Celeste under their wing. In this context, it was certainly helpful to have powerful friends, but not when they had a proclivity to practice black magic.
When the judge told Celeste she was free to go, her knees buckled, and she fell into a puddle of tears, but she left the courtroom, held up by her mother and Lidia. Alex was the first to congratulate her.
“I’m so happy you’re free. This gives me more time to find the real killer.”
Celeste gave her a tired look. “Thanks, Alex. I appreciate the support you’ve given me during this time, but really you don’t have to—you know, try and find the killer. I’m sure Jack will figure it out soon enough.”
Alex did a double take. “I know you’re tired, but you sound so pessimistic. You didn’t do this, and I’m going to prove it.”
Celeste nodded. “Maybe I just need to take a show
er and get some rest and eat some of my mother’s food.”
Josephine appeared at her daughter’s side. “She’s coming home with me tonight.” She wrapped an arm around her. “I’m going to take good care of her, just like when she was little and not feeling well. Doctor Mom prescribes plenty of chicken stew.”
Celeste turned into her mother’s embrace. “Thanks, Mom. Some of your home cooking is exactly what I need right now.”
Lidia squeezed her shoulder supportively. “I’ve got a basket of goodies with your name on it. Some lemon sandwich cookies with sweet lavender and blueberry filling, chamomile and raspberry scones, peppermint and tangerine bath salts… and a warming, spicy kava kava blend, all designed to help you relax, relieve your stress and anxiety, and lift your spirits.”
Josephine smiled wearily. “Why don’t you bring it over tomorrow? It’s Saturday and the shop opens a bit later, right? I’ll make breakfast.”
“Sounds perfect.” Lidia gave Josephine a comforting hug. “Minka is opening the shop tomorrow, so Alex and I will come.”
* * *
After the courthouse, the Sobieskis went home to prepare for a very special guest. Montgomery Blue was coming for dinner. It seemed after no time at all before the front door was chiming, and Montgomery stood at the door, wearing a light blue dress shirt, gray pants, and outrageously shiny shoes. He held a bottle of vodka in his hands and grinned at Alex. “Good evening.”
Alex looked at the bottle in his hand and noticed his ring, which glinted in the sunlight. She felt decidedly ill at ease with the night’s dinner guest, but Minka wanted him there. And she was, she had to admit, interested in the plans his nonprofit had for the town, especially if they involved her cousin.
“Hello, Montgomery. Thank you for coming.” Her gaze fell to the clear bottle with a silver label in his hands. “I see you’ve brought a gift.”
He extended it to her. “Yes, some of the finest vodka ever made.”
She glanced at the proffered bottle. “I’m not really a vodka drinker.”
