by Lucy Quinn
“Well,” Dylan said once June was out of earshot. “We’ve got the Prison Break Trio at the chocolatier, a deputy on her way to the talk show circuit and one meathead in the slammer. And people think life on this island is slow.”
Cookie grinned at him. “They have no idea.” She sobered, though, as she thought about Rain. A frown furrowed her brow because something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Since her mother had befriended Henri already, there was no telling what she might get up to hanging out in the chocolate shop. Perhaps that was the problem. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think Rain might try using her friendship with Henri to manage a prison break. Maybe Cookie needed to make sure the location was as secure as June thought it was.
Dylan took Cookie’s arms and looked into her eyes. “What’s worrying you?”
She shook her head. June had left Zeke behind, and a trained officer could certainly handle three handcuffed, middle-aged women on his own. “It’s nothing. Let’s go question Keith.”
Cookie inhaled the salt air as they made their way back to the sheriff’s office. Her heart ached as she imagined not smelling it every day, and she let herself hope that Keith was the killer and that the reason Simon came to the island had nothing to do with her.
Ned was waiting for them when they got there. He shook his head when he saw Cookie and Dylan. “I’m not so sure Keith’s the killer. He’s crying.”
“What?” Dylan asked.
“Yup,” Ned said with a smirk. “Said he never meant to hurt anyone. Not such a big guy after all, is he?”
“He confessed?” Cookie asked.
“Not exactly. I figured you’d want to hear it first, so I stopped him from saying any more by leaving to get him a box of tissues.”
Cookie smiled at him, noticing that his voice was deeper now than it had been before. “Thank you.” She gave him a look of concern as she decided to feel him out on the subject of Rain’s assault. “Sorry about my mother. She gets a little worked up when it comes to officers of the law.”
“I’ll say. She sure took me by surprise. I didn’t know women that age could lift their legs that high. I won’t let my guard down like that again.”
Dylan chuckled. “Yeah. Rain does a lot of things you don’t expect from a woman her age. But she’s got a good heart.”
“I know.” Ned grinned. “She’s definitely livened this town up since she has arrived too.” He laughed quietly for a moment as he reached for the key to Keith’s cell and held it out to Cookie. “Don’t worry. I doubt she had anything to do with the murder. She’s not the type.”
“Thanks,” Cookie said as she took the key. “But she did assault you.”
Ned shrugged. “Did she? I don’t recall.”
Cookie smiled at him with the knowledge that Rain was likely going to get off without a mark on her record. She grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Thanks, Ned. I appreciate it.”
He smiled back before Dylan and Cookie turned to leave.
As they walked down the hall, Dylan looked at Cookie. “Crying?”
“It happens,” she said. They approached a door that had a small window with bars. Two chairs were close by, and the lock clicked open when she turned the key.
The holding cell was a simple room with a cot, a sink and a toilet in the corner. Keith looked up from the bed at Dylan and Cookie with red eyes. He sniffed. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“That depends on how cooperative you are,” Dylan said. “Are you ready to answer some questions?”
He nodded. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Perfect,” Cookie said as Dylan brought the two chairs into the room and set them down with a thud. She sat down in one while Dylan sat in the other. “Why don’t we start with how you got into the condo development business.”
“It all started with muscle-building protein powder,” Keith said. “Guys would order it all the time out of the back of body-builder magazines. The guy would use it for a month and convince himself it was working. But it never did. By the time anyone figured it out, it was too late to return it for the money back guarantee. The stuff was pricey too.”
The bed creaked when Keith shifted on it. “I told a couple of them they should tell a lawyer. But nobody ever wanted to. So it got me thinking those protein powder people were smart. It was an easy way to make money. And then I thought, why not go big?”
“Why not indeed,” Cookie said.
Keith’s face flushed as he stared at his hands.
“So you offered timeshares?” Dylan prompted. “It’s kind of genius really. Where’d you get that idea?” He cast Cookie a tiny wink and she held back a laugh. Dylan was priming the pump, making it easy for Keith to boast about his crime.
They weren’t disappointed when Keith’s head popped up. There was a gleam in his eye when he said, “It was genius, wasn’t it?” A smile claimed his slightly chapped lips when he said, “My aunt Sally bought a timeshare five years ago. She still hasn’t found time to go enjoy her little condo down in Florida. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard her talk about it, show off the pictures, and make plans. Yet, she still never goes.”
“So you were banking on people like her buying in and not having time to check them out. You must have realized that eventually someone would show up,” Cookie reasoned.
He nodded. “Sure. I’m not a complete idiot.”
Cookie held her tongue, though she strongly disagreed.
“Sure,” Dylan said, nodding for him to continue.
Keith took a deep breath and confessed the rest. “I figured if I advertised condos on the island, I’d get enough deposits that by the end of fall, I’d have plenty to hightail it out of here and start up my own gym somewhere down south. Somewhere the babes wear bikinis year-round, you know?”
“I can see how that would be appealing,” Dylan said with a straight face, and Cookie rolled her eyes.
“Right?” He nodded his head. “I knew you’d understand. Anyway, I’d planned to keep collecting deposits through the fall, then I was out of here. It’s just my luck that one of them was overzealous. I should’ve said the condos wouldn’t be ready till next spring. That was my mistake. Fall was too soon.”
“It sucks when a scam goes south based on bad planning,” Dylan said, nodding in pretend sympathy.
Keith sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “I know. Next time I’ll know better.”
Cookie wanted to haul off and knock him upside the head. Next time? He really was an idiot. She cleared her throat. “Where’s the money you collected?”
“Don’t you worry about that. It’s safe. Nowhere any feds can get to it.”
Anger boiled just beneath the surface of Cookie’s skin. Big Guy had zero remorse for what he’d done. And likely, if he ever got out of federal prison, he’d jump right back into another scam. She’d seen his type time and time again. Most never learned.
Doing her best to hide her distaste of the man sitting across from her, she leaned in and said, “Tell me about Simon Gallo.”
“Who?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know a Simon.”
“So you aren’t in business with him on the timeshare scam?” Dylan asked.
“No!” He sat straight up, indignation written all over his outraged face. “This was my thing. I already told you I thought it up after listening to my aunt. I don’t know who this Simon guy is, but if he’s trying to say I owe him money, then he’s the scammer not me.”
Oh, for the love of Zeus, Cookie thought. This one had taken far too many steroids or unnatural supplements, because his brain was fried. “Simon Gallo was the man who was found dead during the Miss Dumpy Parade. He’s not saying anything. We’re just trying to find out why he was on the island.”
All the anger drained from him as he sat back on the bed. “Oh. I see. Well, I don’t know why you’d think I knew him or why he’d be involved in my timeshare business. I like to work alone.”
“Sure,” Cookie said, standing up. She glanced over at Dylan. “I think we have everything we need here.”
Dylan nodded and joined her near the door.
“Thanks for your time, Keith,” Cookie said. “It’s been… enlightening. Good luck at your hearing.”
“Wait!” Keith stood, the color draining from his face. “What hearing? I confessed. Won’t I just get a warning or something? I don’t have a record.”
“You will now,” Cookie said with a small shake of her head. “But if you give the money back, the courts might take pity on you.”
“I’ll give it back! All of it. Well, most of it anyway. What’s left of it. A man has expenses, you know.”
Cookie raised one eyebrow. “Where is it?” Cookie already knew that the money had been withdrawn from his bank account. That’s why his account had been flagged for suspicious activity in the first place.
He glanced around as if checking to see if anyone else was listening. Then he leaned in and said, “It’s in my kitchen, hidden beneath a loose board in my pantry. It’s tucked into an empty protein powder jar.”
Of course it was. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be sure to put that in my report.”
His eyes widened. “But if you do that, then everyone will know about my perfect hiding spot.”
Cookie smiled sweetly at him. “Should’ve thought of that before you committed a federal crime.” Then she walked out with Dylan on her heels.
“That was productive,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back.
“And a little frightening.” She shook a little, faking a shiver. “He’s completely out of touch with reality.”
Dylan snorted. “What did you expect from a dude who goes by Big Guy?”
“Fair enough,” she said as she retreated to the front office where she called in a warrant to search Big Guy’s apartment. Five minutes later, they were on their way to retrieve Milton and Adele’s life savings.
21
It didn’t take long to find Keith’s hidden stash. The board wasn’t even covering the hole in his kitchen pantry. There was enough money there that it appeared he’d scammed more than Adele and Milton. For someone who managed to swindle a half-dozen people out of deposits, he was incredibly inept. Cookie wished she could just take the money straight to the inn and hand it over to the sweet older couple, but unfortunately, it was evidence, and she had to take it back to the station where it would be held until Keith was sentenced. At least she knew Milton and Adele would get it eventually.
“Now what?” Dylan asked as they stood outside the police station. The sun had set, and the moon was bright over the sea, illuminating the small island in silver light.
“Since I’m ninety-nine percent certain that Keith isn’t a suspect, that pretty much leaves Alex,” Cookie said. “Morgan has confirmed she’s been embezzling. If Simon was involved, or if he somehow found out about it and wanted a cut, Alex might have offed him.”
“There’s still Mindy,” Dylan reminded her.
“Right.” Cookie pulled out her phone and dialed Hunter.
“I was just about to call you,” Hunter said by way of greeting.
“Tell me you have good news for me,” she said, already taking off down the street with Dylan by her side.
“Depends on how you look at it.” There was a rustling of paper, and then he continued. “I got the details of the letters sent by your girl Mindy. It turns out she’s a kinkster. The guards over at the prison love reading—”
“Hunter,” Cookie said, cutting him off. “I don’t think I need those details. Are all of her pen pals still behind bars?”
He sighed. “You used to be fun.”
“I used to tolerate you,” she quipped. “But right now, I’m running down a murder suspect. Care to help me along here?”
“Fine. All of her prison boyfriends are still behind bars.”
“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later,” she said.
“Wait,” he barked. “What happened with that Alex chick? Isn’t she your prime suspect?”
“Yes, but we got sidetracked.” She ran down the situation with Keith.
He let out a low whistle. “Remind me never to vacation on Secret Seal Isle again. That place is a hotbed of crime and corruption.”
“Tell me about it. Now can I go? We’re headed out to find Alex.”
“Sure,” he said. “And Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
His playful tone turned serious. “With Alex’s connections to the mob… just be careful.”
“I will,” she said softly and ended the call. When she glanced up at Dylan he was staring at her, his eyes narrowed and a frown tugging at his lips. “Relax,” she said, patting his arm. “He just told me to be careful.”
“Right,” he said with a shake of his head. “Well, next time tell him he doesn’t need to worry. You have me for backup.”
She nodded, slipped her arm through his, and guided him down Main Street toward an older neighborhood a few blocks off Main.
Alex lived in a small, sea-green cottage with a one-car garage. There were cheery yellow daffodils blooming in her flowerbeds, and a wooden welcome sign in the shape of a sailboat hung on her door. Plastic seagulls decorated her yard in much the same way one would see flamingos down in Florida.
“Looks like she’s been embracing the island life,” Dylan said.
Cookie nodded. “She’s doing her best to fit in.”
The porch light was on, and between the lights shining from the front window and the faint rumble of the television inside, Cookie was certain the bookkeeper was home. She knocked and took a step back.
It took a minute before Alex cracked the door open. She appeared much more professional than the rest of the islanders. Her freshly-dyed hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wore a silk blouse paired with a pencil skirt. “Yes?”
“Good evening, Alex,” Cookie said with a pleasant smile. “I hope we’re not disturbing you.”
“Well actually, I was just getting ready to watch Jeopardy. It’s college week you know.”
Cookie didn’t know, but she nodded anyway. “My mom loves that show, too. You should see her jumping around the living room while she calls out the answers.”
Alex frowned. “Why are you here?”
Okay, Cookie thought. Alex clearly saw right through Cookie’s attempt to put her at ease. There was no point in trying to soften her up. Cookie should’ve known. Someone who’d been a mob associate wasn’t going to be easily manipulated like Keith. Fine, she could be a hard ass. “We’re here to talk to you about the books down at the Tipsy Seagull. We have reason to believe you’ve been embezzling money.”
Alex’s face turned ghostly white, then she scowled and tried to slam the door in their face.
Dylan, always quick on his feet, jammed his foot between the doorframe and the door, stopping her from shutting them out. “Not so fast, Alex. You can either talk to us about what’s going on, or Cookie here is going to break your door down and haul you in for the murder of Simon Gallo.”
It was a small lie. They didn’t have anything on her that could tie her to the murder other than a mob connection, but Cookie could and likely would haul her in for embezzlement. Though Cookie wouldn’t knock her door down. She’d call in backup and let them do it.
“Murder!” Alex shrieked. “I didn’t kill Simon!”
“But you know him,” Cookie said.
Alex shook her head. “No. Why would you say that?”
Cookie leaned in. “I know all about your life before you moved to Secret Seal Isle. I’m aware of your connection to the DeMasis.”
Alex let out a small gasp, stuck her head past the doorframe, and glanced around to see who else might be listening. Then she pulled the door open and ushered them in. “We can’t talk about that out here.”
Cookie smiled to herself. Good. Now they were getting somewhere. The small house was decorated tastefully with comfortable overstuffed furniture, teal area
rugs and pictures of the shoreline. It was nice, but not too nice. It looked like most of the other residents’ homes in town. So far, the only thing that tipped them off that Alex had money was her fancy car.
As soon as she shuffled them into her small living room, she put her hands on her hips and asked, “How did you find out who I am? I’m supposed to be protected!”
“You’re also not supposed to be stealing from your employer,” Cookie said.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Cookie said, cutting her off. “We’ve already had the books analyzed. We know you’re sending the money to your granddaughter, Aimee. Or most of it anyway. We figure you kept some for yourself to fund that red Porsche of yours.”
“The Porsche,” Alex said with a small shrug. “That was… well, a girl needs to have some nice things, now doesn’t she?”
“Does she need them enough to kill Simon Gallo? Did he find out about your little operation and come to collect a cut?” Cookie asked.
“No,” the woman said, sounding angry now. “I already told you I don’t even know Simon. I’ve heard of him sure, but I tried my best to stay away from the business if you know what I mean.”
“Why don’t you tell us about it?” Dylan asked, taking a seat in one of her cream-colored armchairs.
She paced the length of her living room as the track lighting bounced off her fresh blond highlights. “Listen, I left that life. That’s why I’m here in Nowhereville, Maine.”
Cookie raised one skeptical eyebrow. “And yet you stole from the Tipsy Seagull.”
She scoffed. “Bernie doesn’t pay me enough anyway. You know he’s never there. Without me that place would’ve gone under two years ago.”
It was probably true. Bernie’s lack of involvement likely would’ve put him out of business without someone else managing the money. “That still doesn’t make it right, Alex,” Cookie said.
