Charm & Deception

by Stephanie Damore

  Charm & Deception

  Beauty Secrets Mystery 6

  Stephanie Damore

  Pink Sapphire Press

  Copyright © 2018 by Stephanie Damore

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  1

  The best part about being married is waking up every morning with your best friend. I knew it was early, given the still-darkened sky outside, but I also knew that if I wanted to cuddle with my hubby, I’d have to do so before sunrise. The man’s profession meant early starts, but his fishing charters were usually done by noon, which made him an excellent lunch date.

  I inched closer across the bed and wrapped my arm around his back and over his chest. My advance was greeted with something cold and sticky, which spread across my palm. Then the coppery smell hit me. I didn’t need to look at my hand to know it was covered in blood. A scream pounded my eardrums. I didn’t realize it was coming from me until my voice was hoarse. I flipped Finn over, scanning him for the source of the injury. His lifeless body lulled to the side. Frantically I turned on the bedside table and reached for my phone, dialing 911 as quickly as possible. It wasn’t until the line connected and the dispatcher identified herself that I took a real hard look at the body.

  It wasn’t Finn.

  But the man was definitely dead.

  The officer’s flashlight bounced off the dock boards as he approached my houseboat. I was standing on the side deck. My miniature poodle, Captain Jack, was hugged tightly to my chest. Trust me, this was unusual. My pup was normally spunky, constantly trying to lick my face, but right now he was scared. I had found him hiding under a pile of towels on the bathroom floor and quickly scooped him into my arms. My poor little guy. I scratched his head and gave him a kiss. If only pets could talk. I had so many questions for him.

  I could tell the instant the police officer spotted us. His footsteps stopped abruptly, the flashlight beaming me in my face. The light was total overkill seeing the sunrise had started to spill over the horizon, painting the entire harbor in a dreamy orange hue.

  “In there,” I said weakly, then clearing my voice to try again. I knew the officer was cataloging my appearance. Flecks of dried blood on my clothes. My disheveled state. I would’ve changed if I had thought of it, but shock clouds your judgement. I had only managed to wash my hands.

  The police officer didn’t move.

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked him. He was new. You could tell by the way his hands shook, vibrating the flashlight up and down. That, and until then I thought I knew every officer on the force by now. But not him.

  The officer seemed lost for words. I hoped his partner, who should be arriving any second, was more eloquent. I let the silence pass until it became too awkward. There’s only so much open-mouthed staring I can stand. I had to say something.

  “Do you want to call Detective Roxy? Tell her Ziva found a dead body on her houseboat. She’ll understand.” Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t understand per se, but she wouldn’t be shocked. I was also fairly certain that she wouldn’t put me in handcuffs, something I saw the officer reaching for.

  I tried to look as unthreatening as possible. When the officer didn’t move or respond, I added, “And you might want to have me step aside or escort me to your partner. I’m sure you’d like clear my house and let the medics have a go at the body.” Oh yeah, this definitely wasn’t my first rodeo.

  The officer, still mute, swallowed dryly and nodded in agreement. I wasn’t sure which part he was agreeing to, but Captain Jack and I proceeded to walk slowly toward him.

  “Ziva?” A man’s voice called to me when I was a little more than halfway down the dock.

  I recognized the officer’s voice. “Kevin?” I squinted. It was hard to make out faces with the Silent One’s flashlight now blinding me.

  “You okay?” he asked, walking over to the other officer and lowering the flashlight so it cast its light onto the dock and surrounding water instead.

  “Thanks.” I blinked a couple times, letting my eyes adjust to the breaking sunrise. “Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice shook, betraying me. Captain Jack turned to face me and tried to lick my face. I gently turned his muzzle away and noticed Kevin staring at my appearance. “Not my blood,” I said by way of explanation. “But, there’s a dead guy on my boat. I woke up next to him.”

  Kevin went on high alert then, scanning the docks and surrounding boats for a potential threat. I thought that was a good idea and started doing the same as I walked the rest of the way toward them.

  “Finn?” he asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  At first, I had just been relieved that the dead body hadn’t been his. I hadn’t allowed myself to think of where he might be. The possibilities made my legs wobble. I locked my knees and stood up straight.

  “I … I didn’t check the whole house.” I couldn’t finish, but Kevin knew what I meant. What if Finn was hurt somewhere in the house, or worse? I had gone to bed with him next to me, but now? I couldn’t even go there without tripping a panic attack.

  I looked away, willing the gruesome images playing in my head to stop. An ambulance pulled in the lot at that moment, followed by a car I instantly recognized but had hardly expected. My breathing slowed just a bit and the smallest of smiles lifted my lips.

  Detective Bob Brandle was on the scene.

  “Walk Ziva to the EMTs, let them check her out, and then come back here to do a walkthrough with me,” Kevin instructed the Silent One.

  Normally I would’ve protested. I felt fine, expect maybe for a sore arm, which was probably from the way I slept. Except at that moment, I did want to get away and find out what exactly my old detective friend was doing here. Plus, a little distance would help me get my bearings, something I had a feeling I would need for the ensuing hours.

  My previously overworked detective friend looked much better in retirement. His eyes weren’t so puffy, and he had traded in his creased, white button-down shirt and black dress pants for a fun and fresh yellow polo shirt and matching spring plaid shorts. He could be on his way to the golf course in his outfit, and maybe he was. Even if it was awfully early. I cocked my head to the side as I met up with him as if to ask What are you doing here?

  Detective Brandle caught my drift. “Once a homicide detective, always a homicide detective.” He reached over and scratched Captain Jack’s ears. My pup wiggled in my arms until I put him down so Detective Brandle could pick him back up. The little traitor.

  “Well it’s good to see you, even under the circumstances.” My eyes drifted to the crime scene. I felt my throat tighten and my eyes well up. I shook my head to keep the tears from spilling and took a deep breath to get my emotions under control. No way was I going to lose it. Not right now. Not in public. I’m an ugly crier, and I wasn’t about to make a scene. I hated when people did that. It gave me the heeby jeebies and left me itching to make an escape. I didn’t want to do that to my poor friend. He had looked so happy to see me.

  “Still can’t keep your nose out of trouble, huh kid?” He put the pup down and handed me a tissue from his shorts pocket.


  That got a genuine smile out of me. The last time I had met up with Detective Brandle, he was sneaking a cinnamon roll at Sweet Thangs, the best bakery in all of Port Haven. They also brewed a mean mug of chai, which I absolutely loved. In fact, I had been picking up my favorite beverage to go on my way to the shop when I spotted him hiding out at a back table.

  “You’re busted!” I joked, making him jump and drop the over-sized pastry on the table.

  He looked chagrin, but that didn’t stop him from licking the icing off his fingers. You see, Detective Brandle was diabetic, and his misses would have him for breakfast if she knew what he was eating at that moment.

  Anyway, during our little chit chat, the detective told me he’d heard of my travels, from Tampa to Las Vegas, and across the Atlantic to Puerto Rico, and the dead bodies that had followed me along the way.

  “You’re a fine detective,” he had said. I took that as a real compliment given my only credentials were a knack for finding trouble and an insatiable need to know the truth. Perhaps that’s all it really took?

  I took a hard look at Detective Brandle and saw how the years of being a homicide detective had worn him down. Yes, he was more refreshed, but there was something, the cop part, that would always remain.

  I shook my head, chiding myself. No, there was definitely something more to being a detective. Something that I didn’t think I wanted to have.

  In that next moment, I recognized the second detective arriving upon the scene. Detective Roxy parked in the gravel lot, swung her long legs out of her black Camaro and made her way over to me quicker than I could have ever accomplished with my short self. Detective Roxy was a voluptuous blonde with the brains to match. I liked to call her Foxy Roxy. Thankfully, she had taken my makeup advice and toned her look down, but every now and then I’d catch her sporting blue eyeshadow and the frosted pink lipstick she was so fond of. I guess old habits die hard.

  She greeted me with a tight hug and had a pat for Captain Jack, something the old straight-laced Detective Roxy would have never done. Goes to show you how much small-town America can soften you. She and Detective Brandle shared a look, and it amazed me how in one second they were able to silently convey the gravity of the situation, and with one glance in my direction, sympathy too.

  “What’s up? What’s going on?” I asked the two of them. I had been at crime scenes with each one of these guys in the past, but this was different and not just because the crime had happened in my home.

  They shared that same look and I wasn’t sure if they were going to answer me.

  Luckily for them, Mrs. Birdie Jackson decided at that moment to make an entrance, or try to. Sorry, make that Mayor Jackson. She may be the new mayor, but to me she’d always be “Mrs. J.” and she was still as nosy as could be, if not worse. She had a police scanner in one hand and her other was gripping her peacock blue business coat closed as the wind from the harbor picked up and whipped the fabric around her ankles.

  “What do we have here? What’s going on?” she asked the Silent One. I wasn’t sure he was going to answer her and knew Mrs. J. wouldn’t wait long before she just moved past him and headed down our way.

  “Honey girl, you okay over there?” she hollered down the dock to me.

  I gave a curt wave in her direction and turned back to the two detectives. Officer Kevin ducked back out from my houseboat and said the house was secure.

  “Just the one,” he said, which I knew referred to the one dead body. Detective Roxy reached over and tightened her arm around me.

  “I’m okay,” I said, proud of how calm I sounded. Truthfully my heart was pounding. I gave a silent thanks to my Nan, AKA my guardian Angel, that Finn hadn’t been found dead on board. Of course, I still had no clue where he was. Could he be inside the bait shop? I turned to look at the wood-sided shack of Murphy’s Bait and Tackle at the far-end of the marina. Surely, Finn would have run over here by now with all this commotion, yes? I scanned the area for any sign of my husband but came up empty. The boat he regularly captained stood bobbing solo in its slip as well. My eyes naturally drifted to the apartment above the bait shop. When I first met him, Finn lived above Murphy’s. He had remodeled the 1950s apartment for the most part, and it was a great little space. Hardwood floors, concrete countertops, but no bathtub. After we married, we lived in that little apartment for a short while, while Finn remodeled the houseboat.

  “The thing is, Ziva, we got a call yesterday,” Detective Roxy said drawing my attention back to her.

  “A call? From who?” I looked between the two detectives.

  “From the bureau. An old case,” Detective Brandle replied.

  “Bureau? Like the FBI?” I asked, still not sure where this was headed.

  “Exactly. There had been a break in a cold case and the FBI wanted to talk to the original players,” Detective Roxy motioned to Detective Brandle.

  “One of your old cases,” I said, pointing at Detective Brandle.

  “Yes,” he replied and then looked away. Detective Roxy copied him. I didn’t like that neither one of them would meet my eyes.

  “Okay, one of you guys has to spill it, because I don’t know where this is headed,” I said to them.

  “Maybe I can help there,” said a man who I hadn’t even heard approach. He was half a person taller than me, with polished shoes and a navy windbreaker. I didn’t need to read the back to know it said FBI. He eyed me in the way authorities had a tendency to when they thought you were guilty of something. I don’t know if it’s a testament to my bad luck, but I was used to the glare.

  “Special Agent Cooper,” the agent said, extending his hand. Captain Jack growled. I didn’t blame him.

  “Ziva Hudson,” I replied, shaking his hand a bit firmer than I normally would. I wanted to let this man know that I was no pushover.

  “It’s true, Finnigan got married now, did he? Thought the last woman ruined him,” he smiled to himself and left me wondering what he meant. I suppose Justine, Finn’s ex-girlfriend and my former archenemy, was a bit of a psycho, if the whole keying my car thing (well, Aria’s car) and stalking Finn was any indicator. Thankfully she was happily on to husband number seven now. Ironically, my ex-fiancé. They were honestly perfect for one another.

  I shook those thoughts free and turned my attention back to Agent Cooper. “How long have you known Finn?” I asked. It was obvious that he did and that he didn’t think much of him.

  Agent Cooper gave a chuckle. “Longer than you,” he replied with a smirk while staring at me with a mix of amusement and arrogance.

  I wanted to punch him even as my stomach was dropping. Finn’s past. I knew he had one, and it hadn’t been all innocent, but I didn’t think it had been that bad. Definitely not FBI bad. I stared open-mouthed at the agent and tried to think of something witty to say back, but the truth was I was at a loss for words. Well, appropriate words. The jerk.

  Captain Jack started circling Agent Cooper. I swooped down to pick him up afraid the pup might pee on his shoes. Then again, maybe I should’ve let him.

  The agent plowed on. “I understand that you know the detectives here, but I have some questions I need to ask you in private. Right now. I’m assuming you’re available and if you’re not, you need to be.”

  Well then. That settled it. I did not like this man one bit. He was bossy and authoritative, and I hated authority, which is why I was a girl boss. It took every ounce of common sense I possessed to remind myself that Finn was in trouble, one way or another, and I had better play nice. Who knew what favor I was going to have to ask Mr. Special Agent here in the future? Special Agent Cooper stared back at me, the amusement absent in his expression, waiting for my response. I shivered, pretending it was from the spring breeze that was now whipping up in earnest. The boats in the marina swayed in their slips.

  Always one for perfect timing, Mrs. J. joined us just then. Officer Kevin shouted an apology down the dock, and Detective Roxy waved him away.

  “One of y�
�all better tell me what’s going on here. This here is my town. You don’t keep secrets from the mayor.” Mrs. J.’s comment was mostly directed at Detective Roxy, but it was Agent Cooper that answered her.

  “This here,” he said in a mocking tone, “is a federal investigation. You’re going to have to—”

  “I don’t have to do anything, mister, but you need to get some manners. When the mayor asks you what’s going on, you answer her. Who’s your mama?” Mrs. J. was shaking her finger in Agent Cooper’s face, and I had to suppress the smile that threatened to spill across my face. Agent Cooper better pray that he wasn’t born within a twenty-mile radius of Port Haven, or Mrs. J. would know his mama. And you could bet all the cornbread in the county she’d be calling her. When Agent Cooper didn’t answer, Mrs. J. said, “We’ve got the Azalea Gala kicking off this weekend. We ain’t got time for no federal investigation.” The Azalea Gala was Mrs. J.’s inaugural event and it really was a great idea. Our little town was known for the colorful blooms, already attracting tourists from Savannah and coastal South Carolina. Mrs. J.’s idea was brilliant, hosting a three-day festival complete with the crowning of the Azalea Queen and her court. Of course, Mrs. J. had balked at the idea of including a baking competition, seeing the last one she entered had landed her as the prime suspect in a murder investigation. I guess I couldn’t fault her for that.

  “So, you see what I’m sayin’? You gotta be to gettin’!” Mrs. J. gave the shooing motion with her hands, propelling Agent Cooper back down the dock. “I don’t have time for this mess. I tell you what,” Mrs. J. was saying to herself.

  “Ziva, are you joining me?” The agent asked over his shoulder.