by Mary Maxwell
“There’s a chance I’m familiar with that particular variety,” I said. “I think it’s two-and-a-half to three-and-a-half minutes on high.”
“Nice, thanks,” he said. “I can’t read the instructions because the box is pretty mangled.”
“Well, I’m fairly confident that’s how long it goes for,” I said.
“Okay, sounds good,” he said. “But I won’t worry about that until you finish describing your chat with Mrs. Pleshette.”
“Are you going to finish telling me why you think she was acting evasive?”
“Oh, right,” Ethan said. “It was probably because I’d stopped by around three-thirty to ask her a few questions about Simon Wargrave.”
“Ah, that would make sense,” I said. “First, the official investigation, and then the amateur snoop.”
“Yep.”
“Did she answer all of your questions fully?” I asked.
“More or less,” he replied. “But she didn’t really have much of a choice. We found a fairly extensive email correspondence between her and Wargrave on his laptop along with an abundance of racy text messages and suggestive photographs on his phone.”
“Really? That’s intriguing.”
“Intriguing and unfortunate,” he replied. “A couple of her most recent messages to our victim were definitely of a threatening nature. Nadine was very forthcoming once I told her what we discovered on Mr. Wargrave’s devices.”
“How did her husband feel about all of this?” I asked.
The detective snickered. “Not so much,” he said. “But they’re separated at the moment, so he wasn’t entirely surprised.”
“That is so strange. Until the past couple of days, I wasn’t aware they were having trouble.”
“Sounds like it developed fairly recently,” Shaw told me. “The equivalent of a volcano going off that had been slumbering for a long while.”
“Is that how Nadine described it?” I asked.
“Other way around,” he said. “Mr. Pleshette said he thought things were fine, but she came home the other day and exploded.”
“Thus, the volcano reference?”
“Kaboom!”
“Was Mr. Pleshette aware that his wife had been having an affair with Simon Wargrave?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“And what about the emails and texts?” I asked. “Anything there that might be help identify Wargrave’s killer?”
“Can’t answer that yet,” Shaw said. “I’ve been through about half of what we found. So far, besides the handful of threats, it’s pretty standard fare.”
“What about Nadine?” I said. “Does she have an alibi for the time of the murder?”
“She gave me one,” he answered. “I’m still working on corroborating it. I won’t be able to share details right away, but I’ll let you know if it checks out as soon as I’ve finished interviewing a couple of other folks.”
“Thanks, detective,” I said. “That sounds good.”
“Alright, Liz,” he replied. “Let me know if you hear anything else on the grapevine.”
“Will do,” I said. “Enjoy that gourmet dinner you’re working on over there. I’ll talk to you later.”
CHAPTER 31
The Big Dipper was a ghost town most of the following day due to the gray, drizzling conditions. A few customers wandered in every so often for samples of Pistachio Honey, our Flavor of the Day and one of my personal favorites, but the register was silent for so long that my mother joked a few times that the end of the world had arrived but nobody bothered to let us know.
At three o’clock, we were all in the kitchen. I was washing pots and pans, my aunt was wiping down the counters and my mother was working on a batch of brownies.
“I’m really serious,” my mother said. “Do you think this is the end of the world?”
My aunt groaned. “That wasn’t even remotely amusing the first time,” she snapped, glaring at my mother. “After hearing it a half dozen times, I’m about ready to clobber you on the fanny with my spatula!”
“Don’t even think about it,” my mother said, trying not to laugh. “Because I’ll get the pastry bag from the walk-in and splatter you with the rest of the double chocolate frosting.”
I cleared my throat. “May I have your attention?”
They both turned.
“What is it?” asked my mother.
“I’d like to remind you that someone would have to clean up after that kind of fun,” I announced. “And since Theo’s not coming in today and I’m leaving shortly to run to the bank, the janitorial crew would consist of you two maniacs.”
Aunt Dot rolled her eyes. “Somebody’s pretty tightly wound today,” she said. “What’s going on with you, Lizzie?”
I held my tongue for a moment because I could tell that my mother had something to add.
“I think that I know,” she said with a mischievous smirk. “Liz is distracted by the hunky detective that just joined the CBPD.”
“Not even close,” I said. “I’m preoccupied with the Simon Wargrave murder. Some of the conversations that I’ve had around town point to robbery as the motive, but others suggest that it was related to a love triangle gone bad.”
Aunt Dot smiled. “Are you telling us that old Simon was fighting another man for the affection of one woman?”
I nodded. “There’s a rumor that he was dating two women at the same time,” I explained. “And there’s a complication with both; they’re already married to someone else.”
“Well, that’s certainly scandalous,” my mother murmured. “And it means that we’ve got our very own trashy soap opera right here in Crystal Bay!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dot said. “Remember a couple of years ago, Verna Robbins was involved with both the UPS guy and her tennis instructor?”
I groaned. “Ugh! That is such a cliché!”
“Which part?” my mother asked.
“All of it,” I said. “But especially the—”
My phone rang on the counter beside the waffle cone maker.
“Are you getting that?” asked Dot. “Or do you want me to see who it is?”
“Do you mind?” I said. “My hands are greasy.”
“Your wish is my command, Queen Elizabeth.” She hurried over to the phone and checked the display. “It’s someone named Jason Baxter. Want to talk to him?”
“Definitely!” The excitement was obvious in my voice. “Please tell him that I’m on the way.”
While my aunt greeted Jason cheerfully, I grabbed a roll of paper towels, wiped off the butter and then took the phone just as she was asking if he was single or married.
“She’s the same Aunt Dot,” he said with a husky laugh.
“Uh-huh,” I replied. “Your amusement is my torture.”
“Ah, she can’t be that bad, Lizzie.”
I looked at Dot, but she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to me.
“She’s not,” I told Jason. “I just like to tease the old girl.”
“I heard that!” my aunt called. “And tell that nice young man that I’m still waiting to hear if he’s available or not. I need a date for the Wayne Newton concert in Clearwater next month.”
“What did she say?” Jason asked.
“Never mind,” I told him. “I’m sure that whatever you’re calling about is way more important.”
“In this case,” he said, “I think you’re right. I wanted to let you know that I saw that guy; the one that was staying at the Beachcomber.”
“Mr. Mercedes SUV?” I felt my heart shudder. “Did you really see him again?”
“Yes,” Jason replied. “He’s staying at the Coconut Reef Inn.”
“I don’t know that one,” I said.
“It’s in Altamont Lakes,” he told me. “About eight or nine miles south of Coral Glen.”
“Did you see him there today?” I asked.
Jason laughed. “I’m looking at the guy as we speak. I was setti
ng up a catering job in one of the meeting rooms here. When I went back out to the van with the two-wheeler, I saw the SUV. After I confirmed that it had the Jaguars decal on the window, I called you straightaway.”
“Is he alone?” I asked.
“Couldn’t say for sure,” Jason answered. “There wasn’t anybody in the car with him, but who knows about his motel room.”
“This is amazing!” My voice was trembling from the rush of excitement. “How long will you be there?”
“Well, I’d like to stay and keep an eye on him,” Jason said, “but my sister asked me to manage the Smokehouse tonight. I have to head back there in about a half hour.”
“No problem,” I said. “I’m pretty much finished for the day here, so I’m going to call Detective Shaw and then drive down.”
“Think that’s wise, Liz?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I want to watch from the sidelines when Shaw talks to the guy.”
“Just be careful, okay?”
“I will,” I promised. “And you do the same.”
“Hey, before you go…”
“Something else?” I asked.
“I have a question for you,” he said. “Would you like to have dinner sometime?”
“Dinner?” I was so surprised by the question that my voice cracked.
Jason laughed. “Yes,” he said. “It’s the meal that comes between lunch and the midnight snack.”
“You know what?” I felt my face getting red. “I’d love to have dinner. Can I call you after the situation at the motel is resolved?”
“You bet!” Jason said. “In the meantime, I’ll come up with a few restaurant options. Considering that the last place I took you for a bite to eat was the school cafeteria, I want to step it up a few notches this time around.”
CHAPTER 32
I spotted the Mercedes SUV the moment I pulled into the lot behind the Coconut Reef Inn. It was parked beneath a palm tree, with a fresh coat of dust on the side panels and splattered mud around the back tire wells.
Road trip? I thought. Maybe a nice drive in the country to hide evidence?
After parking my car in the front lot, I got out, locked the door and walked around the to the back of the motel. The only voices I heard were coming from the swimming pool near the opposite end of the motel. After a quick glance around to confirm that I was alone, I walked quickly to the SUV, slipped along the driver’s side and then peered into the front seat.
I chuckled at the sight of the crumpled Smokehouse Bar-B-Q sacks on the passenger seat.
“At least you’re consistent,” I whispered. “Whoever you are.”
I leaned toward the glass for a better view. A pad covered with scribbled notes was also on the front seat. The only annotation that I could make out from the driver’s window was at the top: Crystal Bay 10AM 620 Palmetto Drive Backdoor will be unlocked. The rest of the words were written in pencil, so I couldn’t read them clearly from my current position.
“But if I go around—”
Gravel crunched over my right shoulder.
“I don’t believe that’s your vehicle,” said a croaky voice. “Wanna get lost before you do something stupid?”
I turned slowly until I was facing a short, heavyset man with greasy hair slicked back from a wide forehead. He was wearing a faded green bowling shirt that was speckled with dark stains that I instantly guessed were from a feeding frenzy fueled by barbecue ribs from Smokehouse. He was also wearing a large gold watch on his right wrist that nearly covered the timepiece that had been etched into his skin with ink.
“Oh, golly!” I put one hand to my face. “Did I get turned around again?”
The guy didn’t say anything, but he was glaring at me so intently that I felt a chill from head to toe.
“My husband’s SUV is just like this one.” I kept my tone light and steady, adding a jovial smile for good measure. “Right down to the decal of the cougar there on the window.”
The guy shook his head. “Jacksonville Jaguars,” he said. “Typical broad, huh? Don’t know anything about football?”
“It’s a jaguar?” I giggled. “All of those big cats look the same to me.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “Why don’t you move along? This isn’t your husband’s SUV.”
“Well, I am so sorry,” I said, trying to sound as ditzy as possible. “All of these big trucks look the same to me, too.”
He exhaled loudly and inched toward me. “Look, sweetheart. I need to get something out of my glove compartment. How about you get out of the frickin’ way, okay?”
I gasped as authentically as I could and then moved in his direction.
“I sure didn’t mean to make you mad, sir. I was simply looking for Dewey’s truck so I could get the—”
“Hey!” The croaky voice was more ragged and squelchy. “Shut your mouth and get out of here! I don’t care about you or your husband or whatever you were looking for.”
“Okay,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes. “I can tell you’re mad. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
When he lunged toward me, I was ready. I ducked to the left when his fleshy hand shot forward, pressing against the sedan parked beside the Mercedes. As he unleashed a string of F-bombs and called me a handful of less than delightful names, I quickly scooted around him and scrambled to the back of his SUV.
“What the hell?” His eyes were like two black marbles surrounded by mottled pink vinyl; moist and pockmarked and oily. “What is your deal, lady?”
I worked my eyelashes again. “Me? I don’t have a deal, sir.” I paused, gesturing toward his wrist. “But that’s a very nice Timex.”
He glanced down. “Huh?”
I took a step closer so I could see the face of the gold watch. As expected, I saw the embossed crown and coat of arms along with the familiar slogan: The Real King of Real Estate. The guy was wearing Simon Wargrave’s watch.
“What did you say?”
“I was admiring your watch,” I said. “Dewey’s birthday is coming up soon, so maybe I could—”
He reached for my arm again, but I whirled away to the right.
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Somebody’s a little touchy this afternoon.”
His nostrils flared with anger. “Look, I’ll tell you one more time,” he said. “If you don’t get the hell away from here, I’m going to—”
I held up my hand. “Okay, okay,” I yelped. “Sorry to be such a pest. I’m leaving now.”
CHAPTER 33
“Sorry it took me so long to return your call,” said Ethan Shaw a few minutes later. “Your message mentioned something about a barbecue place?”
His call came in just as I climbed into my car after leaving the greasy-haired suspect in the back parking lot. I’d recorded the voicemail before leaving the Big Dipper, telling the CBPD detective that my friend from Smokehouse Bar-B-Q had spotted the potential suspect in Wargrave’s death at a motel on the outskirts of Coral Glen.
“You’re sure it’s the same SUV?” Ethan asked.
“Completely,” I said. “Same make, same model and the same Jacksonville decal on the window. Heck, he still hasn’t removed the rearview hangtag from the Beachcomber.”
“Where are you right now?” he asked.
“Sitting in my car at the Coconut Reef,” I told him. “I found the SUV, but the owner—”
“Hold on,” he interrupted. “You’re at the motel?”
“I wanted to check it out myself,” I said.
His initial response was a bulky sigh. Then he said, “Didn’t we talk about this?”
“Did we?”
“Don’t try my patience, Liz. It’s not a good day for that.”
I hesitated. Should I apologize? Deflect? Confess to blurring the lines?
“I’ll tell you what,” he continued, saving me from making a decision. “Let’s put a pin in that particular topic for now. I’m more interested in knowing a couple of things: Are you safe, and where’s the guy that b
elongs to the SUV?”
I felt a small flicker of relief. I didn’t really know Ethan Shaw, but I didn’t want to irritate or annoy him. I was beginning to really enjoy my sleuthing adventure, and I didn’t want to get benched by the authorities right when we were possibly on the cusp of—
Someone knocked on my window.
“Liz?” Ethan said.
I shifted slightly toward my left, just in time to see the barrel of a Smith & Wesson .38 tap on the glass.
“Uh, I may have a situation,” I said into the phone.
“What’s going on?” he asked again.
“I’m not exactly—”
Someone else knocked on the passenger window. When I turned in that direction, I was thrilled to see a woman’s face instead of another deadly weapon.
Except I’d seen the face before.
“Christine?” I said after lowering the passenger window. “What are you—”
“Liz?” It was Shaw again, sounding a bit less patient. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I told him. “But I can’t talk right now. I’ll have to call you back.”
“No, don’t hang up,” he blurted. “I’ve got Coral Glen PD on the way. Just tell me what’s going on there so I can—”
“We need to talk,” Christine said, reaching through the open window for the door handle. “I can explain everything if you’ll just give me a chance.”
My mind was lurching between wild cartwheels, horrible waves of fear and a million questions about why Christine Marshall from Maybelle’s real estate agency was getting into my car at the Coconut Reef Inn.
“Liz!” Ethan shouted. “Who is that?”
“Okay, Aunt Dottie,” I said. “I’ll call you as soon as possible, okay?”
I pretended to drop the call, but left the line open and put the phone on the seat beside my leg. I positioned it with the screen down so Christine wouldn’t be able to see Det. L. Shaw on the display. I prayed that the microphone would be sensitive enough to let Ethan listen to whatever Christine was about to tell me.
