“Good point.” He leaned back in his chair and extended his legs, placing his feet on either side of mine, mimicking his actions from our first date. “How are you feeling after your ordeal earlier? And before you rattle off the word ‘fine,’ you should be aware that I expect more than that. I want a real answer. Otherwise I won’t let it go.”
I couldn’t swallow my sigh. “I’m okay. I was scared boneless when I was in the water — I’m still not sure how I managed to swim under those circumstances — but things happened so fast I couldn’t really think about them. I’m probably lucky I didn’t have a heart attack.”
“The sharks really didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
“I know that, too.”
He rubbed his foot against my ankle. “You got lucky. I tried telling Chris that all of us going out on that cutter was a bad idea. He refused to listen.”
“It would’ve been fine if I hadn’t gone over the side. The thing we were truly lucky about was the fact that the Megalodon wasn’t in the area.”
“Do you have to ruin the night?” His face twisted. “I can’t deal with talking about an extinct shark that is most certainly not hunting the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The bull sharks are dangerous enough, don’t you think?”
I took pity on him. “Okay. It’s not a Megalodon.”
“Thank you.”
“Maybe it’s the Megalodon’s cousin, Slightly-smaller-lodon.”
“Is that your scientific name for it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, great.”
I pressed my lips together as I watched him. He was doing his best to be pleasant, but the Megalodon talk had him walking a very fine line. I decided to change the subject. “On a different note, Leslie Downs, Abigail James and Priscilla Jennings were all in the spa together and they wouldn’t stop talking about how much they hated Shayne Rivers and how they were glad she was dead.”
Jack perked up. “Really? Did they say anything that would indicate they were legitimate suspects in her death?”
“No, but they seem to think her trademark thing is going to fall by the wayside now that she’s dead and some court case she was involved in with one of her former clients will be dismissed. They mentioned her kids — who are apparently home with the husband. He’s not bothering to travel to claim the body — and they said that half of them weren’t even living with her.”
“If they weren’t living with her, who were they living with?”
“Her mother. Apparently Shayne couldn’t handle her own offspring. She kept only three of the five.”
“Huh. I’ll look into that. Anything else?”
I searched my memory. “No. I think that’s it.”
“Good. Let’s focus on us for the rest of the night and leave the possibly murderous authors as a worry for tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“I’ve had worse offers.”
“There you go.”
I WAS STUFFED AFTER dinner, a meal of scallops and asparagus weighing me down. Jack insisted on ordering an expensive dessert for us to share, so I thought there was a chance I might burst — or at least have to unbutton my shorts — on the way back to the hotel.
Jack chose to walk along the beach rather than the sidewalk, claiming it was because of the view, but I knew he preferred the beach because it was quieter and we could be alone without risking running into our group.
In truth, I appreciated the walk. It was relaxing after a tense day.
“They have another tiki bar over here,” I noted as we passed the satellite resort’s pool. “It’s quieter than the one at the main resort.”
“I see that.” He squinted as he studied the tables around the bar. “Isn’t that the science fiction writer we met last night?”
I followed his gaze, taking a moment to search, and then nodded when I recognized the man in question. “J.D. Wells. He’s the one who said he was a big deal. Told another author that perhaps one day she could own real estate, too — if her husband allowed it. And he shot up insulin at the fire.”
“He shot up insulin at the fire?” Jack looked surprised. “I didn’t notice that.”
“He was trying to be discreet.”
“Are you sure it was insulin?”
I nodded. “He didn’t drink. He had water. I’m pretty sure he’s diabetic. He didn’t get high or anything off the injection. Does it matter?”
“No. You’re simply more observant than I realized.”
“Yes, I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes.”
Jack released my hand and slung his arm around my shoulders, directing me toward the tiki bar and away from the beach. “How about we have a nightcap before heading back?”
“Are you sure?”
“As long as you don’t get drunk and I have to carry you.”
“That happened one time.”
“Yes.” He took on a far-off expression. “That’s when I knew you were going to be trouble ... and I probably wouldn’t be able to resist you.”
“Really?” My heart did a little dance. “You didn’t act like you were charmed that night.”
“That’s because I wanted to kill you for drinking with a murderer.”
“Hey, we had no idea he was a murderer at the time ... and that was entirely Millie’s fault. She’s the only reason I even went to the bar that night.”
“You’re going to blame your lack of judgment on Millie?”
I nodded without hesitation. “Yes. I’m an angel.”
“I thought Hannah was the angel.”
“I’m a different sort of angel.”
“A fallen angel?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, my little devil girl, let’s get a drink. While we’re at it, we can question Mr. Big Deal. He might have some information, and it will be easier to get it out of him without an audience.”
“Sure. I want something fruity with an umbrella. We are in paradise, after all.”
“I think I can manage that.”
IT TURNED OUT, J.D. WELLS was a fount of information. The problem was, his favorite topic was himself. He directed the conversation back to the wonder that was J.D. Wells whenever we tried to direct his attention toward some of his fellow writers.
“Basically, when it comes to publishing, I’m something of a miracle man,” he explained, a huge glass of water clutched in his hand. He wasn’t drunk, thankfully. If he was this bad about monopolizing the conversation without alcohol fueling him, I would’ve hated to see how he was when his blood was juiced with a few rum runners.
“A miracle man, huh?” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond. In the real world I would’ve called him on his attitude and walked away. But because he possessed information that might be of use to us, that wasn’t an option. “You should have a shirt made up proclaiming your magical powers.”
Wells blinked several times. “What makes you think I don’t?”
“Oh, well ... um ... .”
“You’re the one who owns that bright van in the parking lot, right?” Jack asked, wisely changing the subject. “The one with the hot chick holding a gun and her boobs hanging out?”
I’d seen that van. Oddly enough, I hadn’t noticed the boobs. I’d been more interested in the magical cats winding their way around the vehicle. “Oh, right. The pedo van.”
Jack stiffened, making me realize I said the last part out loud. “What she means is ... .” He stalled, clearly at a loss to explain my words.
“All vans remind me of pedophiles,” I offered quickly.
“That doesn’t sound better,” Jack hissed.
I held my hands palms out and shrugged. “It’s all I have.”
“Oh, you are absolutely adorable,” Wells’ wife offered from a chair a few feet away. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d joined us. Christine Wells was quiet like a cat. Perhaps she was the inspiration for the cats on the van. In typical fashion, just like the previous two t
imes I’d seen her, she had a skein of yarn in her lap and busy knitting needles in her hands. “Seriously, I don’t think anyone could be cuter than you.”
I looked to Jack, debating if it was an insult.
“Hey, I already thought you were cute.”
Clearly fed up with the conversation wandering away from his favorite subject, Wells insisted on dragging us back. “Did I tell you about my new book?”
Jack feigned politeness. “I don’t believe you have.”
“It’s about a mutant shark that’s combing the Florida coast.” Wells’ eyes lit with excitement. “The shark is prehistoric — I mean absolutely huge — and it was trapped in a deep trench for centuries and only freed because of global warming.”
I worked my jaw. “Wow,” I said finally. “That’s ... wow. What do you think about that, Jack?”
His shrewd eyes told me exactly what he thought about it. “That’s kind of interesting,” he hedged, clearly searching for the right words. “That’s kind of what happened to Shayne Rivers, isn’t it? The police aren’t looking for one big shark, but she was killed in the shallows and there was definitely shark activity.”
“I know.” Wells didn’t even fake sadness. “Could the timing be better or what? I have the book finished, but it still needs to be edited. I’m getting on that the second I get home because this book will be huge. I’m even going to dedicate it to Shayne. That will get more attention.”
I was horrified. “Don’t you think that’s a little ... unsympathetic?”
Wells shrugged, unbothered. “Why should I care about that? She was a horrible woman. I can’t think of anyone who liked her. At least she’ll be benefitting me in death. She certainly didn’t help me in life.”
I glanced at his wife to gauge her response, but her focus was on her knitting, though she did bob her head and echo his sentiment. “She was a mean woman. She always picked on my husband, called him names and tried to hold him back. I don’t know anyone who will miss her.
“I mean ... I don’t think anyone wanted her to die or anything, but sometimes the good Lord sends out a fitting burst of karma and rights a terrible wrong,” she continued. “In this case, she’s dead and she’s going to help J.D. sell a lot of books. That’s karma.”
I could think of a few other ways to describe it. “Well, at least she got what was coming to her,” I said finally, ignoring the sidelong look Jack shot me.
“Definitely,” Christine agreed, holding up her project and smiling. In the limited light, it took me a moment realize she was making some sort of square with a shark fin in the center of it. “Do you like it?” She was enthusiastic and amiable ... and just a little bit creepy. “I’m making a shark afghan for J.D.’s office. Isn’t it to die for?”
“It’s definitely ... something.”
“Definitely,” Jack echoed, moving his hand to my back and slowly rubbing up and down. “So, tell me more about this shark book. I’m a huge fan of stuff like that. What’s the plot?”
I had no idea what Jack was digging for, but I figured he knew what he was doing. I settled in next to him, letting him lead the way, and allowed my mind to wander. Surely the shark bit was too similar to be a coincidence, right?
Right?
Thirteen
We made our escape from the tiki bar as soon as we could pull it off without looking suspicious. Jack’s reaction to Wells was almost funny, especially the way he insisted on keeping himself between us. Ultimately, the shark writer was so busy talking about himself and his magical power of book launching that he barely noticed when Jack and I slipped away.
The wind picked up during our walk back to the condo. It was so warm I felt as if I were trapped in an oven.
“Wow.” I fanned my face as we slowed our pace to stare out at the water. “It’s hot. You’re even sweating.”
He smiled as he attempted to smooth my hair, his fingers getting snagged in the process. “I kind of like how wild you look, like an island girl who hasn’t brushed her hair in years,” he teased. “I didn’t know hair could get that big without hairspray.”
I frowned. “That is not the way to make me feel attractive.”
“You don’t need help feeling attractive. Even with ridiculous hair you’re the cutest one out here.”
I took an exaggerated look up and down the beach. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only woman out here. I don’t know where the rest of the writers are, but I’m guessing they’re not dipping their toes into the surf.”
“Their cute blue toes.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I got a little overenthusiastic at the spa.”
“I think that is cute, too,” he said. “You had a rough day. If you find some joy getting your toenails painted, what’s not to like about that?”
“You’re being awfully easy to get along with.”
“That’s me. Mr. Amiable.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can think of a few other words for you when you get a bug up your butt.”
“I thought those were ass crabs.”
I smiled at the memory. “You’re feeling extremely charming tonight, aren’t you?”
“I really am.” He lightly tugged my hand and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my back and staring hard into my eyes. “You scared me today,” he admitted, not for the first time. “I was going to jump in that water and get you. That’s all I could think to do.”
“That probably would’ve been a bad idea. I was fine with you pushing Laura in to serve as a distraction, though.”
He chuckled. “I don’t often panic, but I was pretty close to that today. I had no idea how to get you away from those sharks.”
“And yet you held it together and figured out a way to get me out of the water. I wasn’t even nibbled on. But I have to admit, the few times the sharks brushed against my legs was terrifying. I seriously thought I was going to have a heart attack.”
“I bet.” He blew out a sigh. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” He took me by surprise when he leaned forward and kissed my forehead rather than my lips. “You’re okay and after a good night’s sleep you’ll be even better.” He wrapped himself around me and rocked back and forth while staring at the water.
“I think you might need a good night’s sleep, too,” I said after a beat, amused by his reaction. He kept it together for most of the afternoon and our date, but he couldn’t maintain through the walk home. It was kind of cute. “I’m not sure how well I’ll sleep with Millie snoring. Plus ... I’ll have nightmares. I know it. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Jack pulled back long enough to stare into my eyes. “Do you have nightmares often?”
I shrugged, unsure how to answer. Some of my nightmares were tied to my abilities. It was too soon to talk about that. “Sometimes. It’s going to happen tonight. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“We’ll see.” He stroked his hand down the back of my hair, his body going tense at some point and causing me to draw back. The obvious question was on my lips but I never got a chance to utter it because Jack was focused on the beach trail that led to the resort. “Who are you?”
I had to squint to make out the approaching figure in the darkness. When I did, I relaxed much quicker than Jack and offered Lily Harper Hart, the cozy mystery author with the sarcastic tongue who made me laugh around the tiki bar the previous evening, a friendly wave.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked, resting a hand on Jack’s forearm to still him. “I would think you’d be drinking with your buddies.”
“They’re closing the tiki bar,” Lily replied, her gaze busy as it bounced between us. She looked amused. “I came out here to make sure there were no stragglers. Apparently a big storm is set to roll through in the next twenty minutes or so.”
“Why would anyone be out here?” Jack asked, legitimately curious. “I thought you guys were congregating closer to the resort so you didn’t have to travel great distances for cocktails.”
“Oh, yo
u’re kind of funny.” Instead of being offended by Jack’s tone, Lily snorted. “You’re kind of crabby, though, aren’t you? Given the way you two were looking at each other, I’m guessing it’s sexual tension fueling you.”
My mouth dropped open. “What? I ... what?”
“Ignore her,” Jack said. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Lily snickered, her eyes lighting with mirth. “I don’t, eh? So you two have progressed beyond kissing and groping? I guess I was wrong about the sexual tension.”
“We don’t grope.” I looked to Jack for confirmation. “Right? We haven’t gotten to groping yet, have we? I don’t want to miss that.”
My statement was the only confirmation Lily needed. “That’s what I thought.”
Jack scowled. “I’m starting to dislike both of you now.”
“No, you’re embarrassed and annoyed,” Lily countered. “Embarrassed because you’re wondering if you should be progressing to groping – and probably beyond – and annoyed because I interrupted a private moment. I don’t mean to distract you or anything, but I wanted to make sure no one passed out in this area before the storm rolls in. That almost happened the first night we were here.”
Intrigued, Jack slipped his arm around my waist and focused his full attention on Lily. “What do you mean? The first night was the night Shayne Rivers died, right?”
“Yeah.” Lily’s expression twisted as she shook her head, taking on a far-off expression. “We didn’t know she was out here. We thought she’d gone back to her room. Everyone was relieved about that because we didn’t want to talk to her anyway. She made everyone uncomfortable.”
“Because she was a narcissist?” I asked.
“She was definitely a narcissist,” Lily agreed. “I think she had at least three diagnosable personality disorders, narcissism being one of them.”
“What were the others?” I didn’t really expect an answer, but I was the curious sort.
“She was histrionic, paranoid, dependent and possibly borderline.”
I was expecting her to say Shayne was crazy and call it a day, so I was understandably surprised by her clinical take on things. “That’s quite a clinical diagnosis.”
The Megalodon Mix-Up Page 12
