I wasn’t alarmed until I saw Mrs. J. bust out a pack of blueprints. She had grand visions when it came to float building. I was thinking something more along the lines of tissue paper flowers and some balloons. She was envisioning a tropical oasis complete with palm trees, an azalea forest, and a bubbling fountain.
This was going to take a while.
Two hours in, I took a break to pet the puppies. Believe it or not, my index finger was sore from pulling the trigger on the staple gun a bazillion times. The entire bed of the float was covered in fake metallic grass that I had stapled down along with green fringe around the perimeter. The cardboard palm trees looked nothing like the picture and don’t even get me started on the fountain. It was in a million pieces on the garage floor. Oh yeah, it was definitely break time.
I walked back through to where Chief Brody was sitting at the front desk on his phone.
“Yes, Mr. Devonshire. I’m positive. I issued the permit myself.” There was silence from Chief Brody for a minute.
“Yes, Mr. Rogers knows how to properly burn his brush. Yes, that is an approved container that he has. How do I know? I inspected it myself.” There was more silence while Chief Brody listened to Mr. Devonshire. “Of course. Yes, if you have any concerns, you can always call me back. Yes, I’ll be here all day.”
I walked past Chief Brody and bent down to pet the puppies.
“At night? You can call 911,” Chief Brody said. “Yes, have a great day.” Chief Brody hung up the phone.
“That man is a menace. He has nothing to do but complain,” the fire chief said to me.
“Devonshire … is that the same guy who’s been giving Mrs. J. grief?” I asked. I remember the man had a penchant for Hawaiian shirts and spray tans.
“Paul Devonshire? It wouldn’t surprise me. Since retiring here last month, he does nothing but complain. I swear, the police are just as tired of him too. Everything offends the man.”
“That would explain why he’s all in a huff over Mrs. J.’s gala this weekend. I guess he runs the Little Miss Atlantic pageant?”
“Yeah, it’s the same guy. It’s actually his new wife that runs the pageant. I heard that’s why they settled here. She wasn’t ready to give it up.”
“Oh, lucky us,” I said sarcastically.
“The Sugar King marries The Atlantic Queen, and we’re the ones that get stuck with them.”
“What did you say?”
“The Sugar King. That’s what Paul Devonshire was known as in South Florida. He owns the largest sugar cane plantation in the United States.”
Chief Brody’s information gave new meaning to the expression sweet sugar. Devonshire and The Sugar King were one and the same? This knowledge sent alarm bells ringing in my head. I didn’t care how much work was left on the float, I was giving Mrs. J. one more hour and then I was out of there. I had some thinking to do.
Back home I needed to clear my head before trying to make sense of this case. The best way I knew to do that was with a soak in the tub. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to use my calming lavender-based bubble bath or go for my stress-reducing one infused with eucalyptus and spearmint. I ended up going for a dollop of each in my tiny bathtub. If I had any qualms about living on a houseboat, it was the size of the bathroom. Spectacular views, tiny tubs. That’s just the way it worked.
With my feet sticking out of the suds, I thought about The Sugar King. Was it just fate that brought him to Port Haven and coincidence that had him running into Finn? Or was this a premeditated move? I didn’t know enough about Mr. Devonshire, other than he seemed to have a poor attitude, to make a solid judgement. I needed to do something about that.
Second, I thought back to the original list that Aria and I had made at her house over a pitcher of margaritas. It occurred to me that I never tracked down Cody’s family. I wondered if the police had released his identity. If they had, I’d at least be able to find out his last name and do a search that way. I decided that I would grab my computer and do just that soon as I was out of the tub.
Lastly, there was the question of Alexia. I hadn’t even told Aria that she had been married to Finn. I wanted to know more about her, and not because she was Finn’s ex. Okay, not only because she was his ex.
My search into Paul Devonshire seemed to reiterate what I had learned earlier that day. He was a wealthy plantation owner in Southeast Florida. By wealthy, I mean millionaire, possibly billionaire. He was Big Sugar, which was big business down south. He had retired this past year as the CEO of his company but maintained his position of Chairman of the Board. His son was now at the helm. An image search revealed hundreds of photos of Mr. Devonshire living the lavish lifestyle—parties, yachts, mansions. I had a feeling living in little Port Haven was driving him batty. Maybe his boredom fueled his revenge. Speaking of being rich, I could only think of one other couple that moved in the same circle as the Devonshires and that was the Delgados. Vincent in particular. Aria had only been married to Vince for the past year. I quickly dialed Vince’s number and waited for him to answer.
He didn’t.
I had to leave him a voicemail. “Hey Vince, it’s Ziva. Hoping you can help me. What do you know about Paul Devonshire? I think he had something to do with the break-in. Call me back.”
Okay, so Devonshire wasn’t directly responsible for the break-in, but he was the catalyst. If anything would get Vince to return my call, it was mentioning it.
My second lead was dead before it even took off. I was shocked to find out that the police hadn’t released Cody’s identity. Why, I couldn’t be too sure. The only thing I could think of is that they had yet to notify his next of kin. Given Cody’s elusiveness, that could be a real possibility. For the life of me, I wished I knew where Finn was staying so I could ask him Cody’s last name and begin my search.
My third lead would have to wait.
I was sitting on the couch with my laptop on my knees and my hand on my head lost in thought when I heard the unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot.
If the rider would’ve stopped by at any other time, I would have missed him. I set my laptop aside and got up to see if, against all odds, the visitor was the man with the green-flamed helmet.
It wasn’t.
In fact, it was Agent Cooper. Talk about a letdown. I debated even getting up to get the door when I saw the special agent approach. Okay, in addition to tiny bathrooms, the other problem with living on a houseboat is it is hard to pretend you’re not home. Especially when your car is parked four feet away and you’re sitting in front of glass windows. I rolled my eyes and didn’t even bother to turn away.
“Agent Cooper,” I said, sliding the glass doors open. “What can I do for you?”
“Ziva, I’m surprised you’re here,” Agent Cooper said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe he actually spoke his true thoughts.
“It’s going to take more than a dead body to kick me out of my home,” I said truthfully. I stood in silence while waiting for the agent to state the reason for his visit.
“Officer Kevin couldn’t remember if he had removed both sawhorses. I told him I would stop by and make sure it was all clear.” I remembered seeing the officer with one of the sawhorses when I left with Agent Cooper the first time.
“Yeah, they were removed. There was just a bit of crime scene tape left, but nothing else.”
“Okay, good.” Agent Cooper stood there a minute longer, as if he was unsure of what he wanted to say next. I let the awkward silence linger until finally saying, “Well, I’ve had a pretty long day, so if it’s all right with you, I’m going to head back in here and settle in for the evening.”
“Yes, absolutely. I’ll leave you to that,” Agent Cooper replied.
I watched the agent reluctantly walk back to his bike, clip on his plain black helmet, straddle the bike and kick it to life. As he rumbled out of the parking lot, I thought about maybe indulging myself in some mint chocolate chip ice cream. Maybe the sweet t
reat was just what I would need to lift my spirits and get my head back in the game.
I was in the kitchen with my head in the freezer, debating between the merits of chocolate chip ice cream versus chocolate peanut butter, when I heard the motorcycle returning.
“Oh, what now?” I asked shutting the freezer door and standing back up to greet Agent Cooper. However, when I peered out the door again the motorcycle completely bypassed the houseboat and parked on the side lot next to Murphy’s Bait and Tackle. The man parked the bike and stood up. In that moment, I spotted the man’s helmet. Green flames. My heart rate picked up. Today was my lucky day. I waited a minute to see what he was going to do. The man seemed confident as he walked around the side of the building and headed up the wooden staircase to Finn’s old apartment.
Naturally, I stepped onto the deck of the houseboat and watched the man, with his ripped cutoff jeans and a white T-shirt, trudge up the stairs and bang on the apartment door. Even from the water, I could hear him say, “Finn, bro, you here?”
So the man with the green flame helmet knew Finn. Was he a friend or foe? I was prone to thinking he may be a friend given that he walked right up to Finn’s apartment in broad daylight. I wondered if he had seen Finn the night of the murder or what else this guy might know.
Guess it was time to find out.
I quickly jogged down the dock and over to the bait shop.
The guy was still standing at the top of the stairs. He was shifting his feet from side to side as if he was unable to stand still. I knew the feeling.
“Hey, can I help you?” I hollered up the stairs to get his attention.
The guy turned around. For the first time I could see what the Quick & Go store clerk had meant. The man was visibly startled and he didn’t calm down after he realized that I wasn’t a threat.
“I don’t need any trouble. I’m just looking for my boy.” The guy nervously licked his lips and looked over his shoulder repeatedly even though there was only a railing and a ten-foot drop behind him. I backed up a bit to reiterate that I didn’t mean any harm.
“I don’t think Finn’s home, but I can let him know you stopped by when he gets back.” The man nodded nervously. “What’s your name,” I asked.
Instead of answering me, the guy said, “I heard about Cody.”
That completely took me off guard, but if he had heard about it, it most likely meant he wasn’t the killer. That is, unless he just wanted to see what I knew.
I played along. “Yeah, it was pretty shocking. You a friend of his?” I asked.
The man nodded again but didn’t offer any more information.
“What was his last name? Do you by chance know?”
Apparently, that was the wrong question to ask. The man looked directly at me for the first time. For a second, the paranoia lifted and his eyes turned clear.
“I have to go. I shouldn’t have come here. Excuse me.”
With that, he raced down the stairs toward me. I stepped aside in the nick of time as his shoulder brushed mine and he continued onto to his bike, leaving just as quickly as he had come.
“What in the world was that about?” I said to no one in particular. The day just seemed to be getting weirder and weirder.
9
I knew the day would be long when Mrs. J. showed up at my house before 8AM. A normal person would call before stopping over. Mrs. J. was not normal.
Bang, bang, bang. Mrs. J.’s knocks vibrated off the sliding glass door.
“Ziva, you in there? Wake up!” Bang, bang, bang. “It’s an emergency!”
The word “emergency” had me springing out of bed faster than I would’ve thought possible given how poorly I slept the night before. My subconscious was hard at work putting the pieces of the puzzle together and the most random thoughts kept waking me up.
“What, what’s wrong?” I asked Mrs. J. while wiping the sleep out of my eyes.
“It’s awful! You won’t believe it!”
“What? What happened?” I searched Mrs. J.’s face for a clue.
“The float! Someone’s ruined it!” Mrs. J. shouted.
“Seriously?” The adrenaline I felt building in my system evaporated as quickly as it had come. “Mrs. J., what time is it?”
“What difference does it make? You need to take the case.”
“Excuse me?” Tell me this is a dream. Please, someone wake me up.
“Mrs. J., I highly doubt this warrants an investigation. Besides, I’m a little busy with the other case at the moment.”
Mrs. Jackson looked bewildered. “What other case?” she asked.
I stared at her for a second, wondering if being mayor was too much for the woman to handle. It was a far jump from gossip queen to mayor supreme. Maybe it was too far?
Mrs. J. still looked at me, waiting for an answer.
“Finn. The whole murder thing, remember?” I said, a little concerned for her lapse of memory.
Mrs. J. waved me away. “He’s guilty, remember? All you gotta do is find him. Now this, this is a true case. A true atrocity. Anyone could’ve broken into the fire station and vandalized our float. You need to find out who and I’ll make sure they’re prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” Mrs. J. puffed out her chest with pride.
I think I liked it better when I thought her memory was going.
Mrs. J. needed to get her priorities straight. Truth be told, I didn’t give a flying fruitcake about the float. I needed to take down The Sugar King and put a stop to this madness before someone else was killed, like Finn. Of course I didn’t dare try to explain any of that to Mrs. J. She’d be tailing me again in no time if she knew half of the truth.
Mrs. J. stared at me expectantly.
I ended up saying the only thing I could. “When’s the last time anyone saw the float intact?”
Turns out, taking on this case wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Mrs. J. had a list of suspects and motivations a mile long.
“And Inez,” she was saying.
“Why Inez?” I asked.
“You saw her at the library, back talking the way she was!” I didn’t consider speaking her mind as back talking. “Plus, she wanted to get her hands on my cake recipe!”
“Your famous chocolate cake, I presume?”
“Is there any other?” Mrs. J. gave me a level stare. “Thought she could just call me up and ask me for it! Like I’d just read it to her right over the phone then and there. Ha! The gall of some people. I would never.”
“Isn’t that the polite thing to do? To just ask someone for it?” I asked carefully.
“You think I’m just going to give that recipe up because someone asks for it?” Mrs. J. was wide-eyed in disbelief and I had to keep myself from laughing at her perceived offense.
“She knew we were building it at the fire station too. Probably broke in when the chief tucked in for the night. That’s how those vandals do it. They watch you and wait. Sneaky crooks.”
I highly doubted that’s what happened. I thought about saying that aloud but didn’t want Mrs. J.’s eyes to completely bug out of her head, or worse, for her to question my judgement.
“Okay, so I’ll check in with Inez,” I said to placate Mrs. J. even though I didn’t believe for a hot second she was involved in any way. “And I’ll stop by the station, see what I can dig up, deal?”
“For starters,” Mrs. J. said.
Oh brother.
The only downfall to visiting Inez is that her condo is directly across the street from my parent’s. Forgetting to call your mom as promised was one thing, ignoring them while visiting their neighbor was another.
Mrs. J. liked to say that Inez was born with the gift of gab, which was ironic as Mrs. J. was the biggest blabbermouth in Port Haven, but with that said, Inez could talk. The plants, the weather, what she was making for lunch—it was all provided in minute detail, and your eyes could glaze over before she noticed you’d tuned out. But she was also kind, willing to provide a helping hand whenever you
asked (she had watched Captain Jack on numerous occasions), and she knew everyone in the area. So, while she might not be involved in the whole Azalea Float Scheme, maybe she had heard something through the grapevine.
Turned out talking to Inez was going to have to wait a minute. As I pulled up, I saw my dad putting the finishing touches on his wax job. The Buick was sparkling in the South Carolina sun. I gave an inward sigh. While I loved my dad, and knew he was fond of Finn, I also knew this recent scandal wasn’t going to sit right with him and it would be a long time until my pops trusted my hubby once again. What could I say? I was his baby girl. He took his job protecting me seriously.
“Game’s not on?” I said by way of greeting. That opening could apply to any baseball game being broadcast. I knew spring training was in full steam, and it was surprising that he was outside when there had to be a game on.
“Your mom’s ironing the hand towels.”
We both shuddered at that.
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s that husband of yours.”
Ouch. I tried not to wince. “It’s not his fault either, Dad.”
“Are you sure about that?” My dad stopped rubbing out the wax to really look at me. I couldn’t meet his eyes. That was all the answer he needed.
“Listen—” I started to say.
“Ziva, I just don’t know. Since that guy’s come into your life, you’ve had one catastrophe after the next.”
“He could make the same argument!” I said, stronger than I meant to, but it was true. Technically, I found my first dead body before I met him, but that was the only one. Maybe we did have some residual morbid karma Izzy’s smudge stick hadn’t removed. She had given us a bunch of Palo Santo to burn, to lighten our energy, but murder kept finding us. That’s all Izzy said she could do seeing she didn’t deal with death. I shook my head, letting those thoughts fall away.
“I just don’t like it,” my dad said, working on his car once more. “I think your mom’s right. You need to stay here for a while.” Like my mom, the way my dad said it wasn’t a suggestion.
Beauty Secrets Mystery Boxed Set 2 Page 37
