by Tara Lush
As we both took a step toward the blue bin, a loud crash came from inside the house. The clatter of metal, the shatter of glass, the splinter of wood echoed through the garage.
I gasped. Zander wrapped his strong arms around me and squeezed me tight.
Seven
I pressed my face into Zander's wide chest. Although he smelled amazing — like an orange peel with a sprinkle of clover and something darker — I was too frightened to focus on anything even remotely pleasurable.
The crash left a deep, aching silence in its wake. And so we stood, mashed together in the near darkness, me trembling against his body. He clamped one hand possessively on my back while the other cradled my head.
The sound of a door slamming caused both of us to flinch. In the distance, somewhere on the street, a car's engine started and roared off. We both exhaled.
"Holy crap," I whispered. "Someone was inside."
"I know." His voice was shaky. "I thought my chest was going to explode when I heard that noise. You okay?"
"Yeah. Just startled is all. You?"
"I'm okay. But this is freaky."
"We should call police, right?"
"Definitely. One second. I dropped my phone."
I pulled away, and Zander slid his hand around my back and down my arm. He clasped my wrist and knelt. It wasn't totally dark because a small, faint bulb on the outside of the garage door allowed light to filter in.
"Found it." He rose to standing and frowned while tapping on his cell. The screen blazed to life, and he activated the flashlight, which gave me a small measure of comfort. "Oh, thank God it works."
I moved toward him, almost on instinct. He seemed to understand I was unsettled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
"Let's get out of here."
"Wait. No. We should check out what happened inside first. And look for the cartons of ice cream in the bin."
He squeezed my arm and squinted. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. But I'll go first. Here, grab hold of me."
He reached for my hand, and I followed him toward the door leading to the kitchen. He paused. "You want to do this?"
"Definitely. Let's try to find out what happened. I'm curious. Whoever was here is gone now." At least I hoped no one was left behind…
I studied his face. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. But I had to know. The bile in my stomach sloshed around like curdled milk hitting a cup of coffee.
His mouth twitched in an expression that was half annoyed, half amused, then he reached for the doorknob and jiggled it in both directions. It wouldn't budge.
"It's locked. Here, hold the phone while I try the keys. I never knew this door even locked."
He passed me the phone and extracted the keyring from his pocket. I shone the light on the brass doorknob. There were two keys, and he tried them both. Neither worked.
"Maybe we should…" I paused, one thought surfacing among all the raging possibilities in my mind.
"What?"
"I was going to say, break in. But that’s probably a bad idea. Not sure how we'd explain that to the cops."
"Not sure how we'll explain any of this to the cops, honestly."
I bit my bottom lip and we stared into each other's eyes. "Good point. Let's just grab those cartons and leave. They were right by this door."
I swung the phone flashlight to the right. There were the bins. We stepped a few feet, past sagging, overfull boxes, and peered in.
"Oh my God, look," I yelped, staring into the empty bin. The hair on my arms prickled and stood to attention.
"There's nothing in there. You sure this is where you saw them?"
"Positive. They were the only three things inside, and this is the only blue bin in the garage."
We locked eyes. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
"I think we'd better leave, Hadley."
We quickly picked our way through the junk-filled garage and walked out the door. As he twisted the key in the lock, I glanced around. When we arrived, the beautiful suburban neighborhood at night felt a bit eerie. Now it was downright menacing.
We walked quickly to my scooter, and right before I pulled the helmet over my head, Zander reached for my arm.
"I think we should go right to your house. I don't want you dropping me off and driving alone. I'll grab an Uber at your place."
I nodded, donned my helmet, and fired up the Vespa. Zander's hands around my waist did little to calm the shaky feeling that remained in my stomach.
# # #
Once at my house, I felt my shoulders relax away from my ears. "Thanks for wanting to ride home with me."
His hair was messy from the ride, and he pushed it back with his fingers. He was the kind of guy who could do that and look effortlessly handsome.
"Do you want to come in for a glass of water or something while you call your taxi?"
"Sure." He pushed out a breath, and that's when I noticed the sparkle in his eyes had vanished. He looked like he’d aged a couple of years, and definitely exhausted.
"Maybe something stronger?" I asked. "Or coffee? You've had a really long day."
He let out a little laugh. "Maybe something stronger. Lead the way."
My apartment building was a 1970s-era pink stucco, two-story box. It looked a little like a motel.
It was probably the height of swank Florida living when it was built, but now the place was mostly populated by waitstaff, a few tourists who rented the apartments as AirBnBs, hotel clerks, a few divorced dads who hit on the waitresses, and me. Tonight, a rager of a tourist party seemed to be in full force on the first floor, and I grimaced as I glanced in its direction.
"I'm hoping to upgrade my living situation soon. This was the first place I found that had a secure, gated parking lot for larger vehicles," I explained as we walked up the stairs. "I needed that for the ice cream van."
"Of course. And it's not so bad, I guess. Seems well maintained."
I knew he was trying to be polite, and for that I was grateful. We walked a few paces down a corridor and came to my apartment.
"Here we are," I burbled as I unlocked the door, my voice entirely too cheery for the circumstances.
The lingering scent of vanilla greeted us. Zander inhaled. "It smells exactly as I imagined."
I flicked on the light. "You imagined how my house would smell?"
"I figured you cooked a lot. Or made ice cream." He shrugged and grinned, then put his hands on his hips and scanned the room. His eyes landed on my sand-colored sofa with the robin's-egg-blue pillows. "I like your place. It's really homey."
My mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara. I moved into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge door. "Water? Coffee? Wine? I don't think I have much else."
"Water would be great, thanks."
I poured us both glasses and we drank in silence. Then I blurted what had been eating at me since we left his aunt's house. "Zander, why would someone take those cartons of ice cream? And why would someone want your aunt dead?"
I sank onto the sofa. He did the same, sitting at the other end. It was almost as if he was overcome with a spell of shyness after we'd been so physically close in the garage. He set his phone on the cushion next to him.
"Aunt Linda was rich."
"Ohhh," I said in a knowing tone. I knew it! My years of listening to crime podcasts kicked in. "Was there a will? Did she have children?"
"No children. Her husband passed several years ago. And I don't know about a will." Zander's eyebrows drew together. He really had the most expressive eyes I'd ever seen. "I actually only met her a month ago. I think I told you. My mom found her through one of those DNA tests. I'd moved here for work, and she'd lived on Devil’s Beach for decades. My mom flew down, and we all met for dinner. Since then, I've been keeping in touch with her. Meeting her for coffee. She was a cool old lady, and I just enjoyed her stories about being a Red Cross nurse."
I nodded, hoping he'd continue. This was starting to b
e quite interesting. "That's sweet of you to spend time with her."
"She also seemed lonely, you know?" He took a long gulp of his water. "I didn't have a big family growing up. It was just my mom and me. So she was kind of a grandma figure."
A lump formed in my throat because an image of my own grandma, back in New Hampshire, came to mind. A sudden, fierce homesickness crashed over me in a wave.
"So she didn't have a lot of friends?"
"She did, actually. Acquaintances. Lots of superficial friends, of all ages. But she still seemed, I don't know. Lonely. Fragile."
"So sad," I whispered. "Who would want to… poison her? Ugh, I feel bad even saying that aloud."
Zander leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, propping his chin in his hands. "Let's think about the timeline. She hosted that dinner party, then was found dead the next day."
"Okay. So let's assume it was someone at the dinner party. She served two of the cartons of ice cream, right?”
“Yep. And she told me she was going to eat the other one herself. I didn’t think it would be right after the party, but she did love your almond flavor.”
I winced. “Okay, so the killers obviously didn’t put cyanide in the ice cream served at the party, since no one else died.”
Zander fixed me with a startled look “We hope no one else died.”
“Well, you ate the ice cream and you’re fine.”
“True.” He exhaled.
“You said you could get a list of the guests together."
He straightened and shifted to face me. "Do you think you'd recognize the voices if you heard them again?"
I nodded. "They were pretty distinct, so yeah. I'm sound-oriented. I listen to a lot of radio serials and podcasts. I remember sounds and voices. But do you think we should call police with what we heard and saw tonight?"
He pressed his lips together. "Maybe not just yet. I was thinking we could somehow get you around the people who were at the party. If you could identify the voices, we'd be able to give cops something to investigate."
His logic seemed solid. "I guess I could do that."
For a few seconds, he appeared lost in thought. Then he shook his head and reached for his phone. "I've kept you up too late tonight. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."
"No, don't worry. I'm glad to help. Or whatever I'm doing. Anything you need, I'm here."
I watched as he swiped and tapped his phone with long, strong fingers. To calm the butterfly colony that had invaded my stomach, I rose and paced a few steps.
"Another glass of water?"
"No, I'm good. Thank you." Zander climbed to his feet. "I'll go wait for the Uber downstairs. But I'll call tomorrow. Hopefully I'll have an idea of where some of these people might be. Or maybe I can arrange for us to have drinks or dinner with some of them. Or we can run into them somehow. If that's okay with you?"
I stopped in front of him. "Yeah, that's fine."
He glanced down at me, his eyes half-lidded. "It's not what I had in mind for our first date. I wanted to take you to that new place at the waterfront."
Warmth flowed down my body, and I realized I was grinning like a fool. "I dunno. Investigating a crime is almost as good as dinner."
Was that a weird thing to say? As a flicker of worry blossomed in my mind, his eyes darted to my lips, and all my doubt vanished. A heavy silence hung between us. Not one of fear or awkwardness, but one of desire. I licked the side of my mouth. Why was I so drawn to him?
Was he going to kiss me, after everything that had happened tonight? God, I hoped so. Even if that was strange or wrong under the circumstances.
My face grew hot, thinking of how he'd squeezed me protectively back there in the dark garage. Without thinking, I inched forward so my chest was nearly grazing his.
Eight
"Hadley, you are so gorgeous."
Zander slipped his hands around the back of my head and undid my ponytail, working his fingers into my tresses. With a slow, possessive movement, he drew me to his lips. As our mouths touched, an insistent buzzing noise soared through the air.
"What is that? Make it stop," I murmured.
Then I opened my eyes. Crap. My lips were not against Zander's. I was not in his arms.
No, I was snuggling my flower-print pillow, in my bed, alone. It was morning, and on my nightstand, my cell sounded like a buzz saw. For a second, I scrunched my eyes shut, hoping whoever was texting would stop and I could return to my delicious dreamland.
The dream probably had something to do with last night, when I was certain Zander would kiss me.
Instead, we'd blinked at each other for a few beats. When his phone chimed with the notification that his Uber ride had arrived, he'd stuck out his hand and we shook. The tops of his cheekbones were flushed, I was sweating, and we were both ill at ease. So much for romance.
The rest of the previous night came rushing back into my mind. Us flying through the dark streets on my scooter, the terrible crash at his aunt's house, the realization that the possibly tainted ice cream carton was missing. Somehow, I'd only known Zander for a couple of weeks and we were entwined in this mystery. The very thought left me feeling a little floaty.
My phone again vibrated insistently.
Who was texting at this hour? The bedside clock said nine a.m., and while I knew that was when most adults were already working, it was way early for me. Since moving to Devil’s Beach, I'd gotten in the habit of selling cones in the van in the late afternoon and early evening and doing most of my ice-cream making later at night, when the co-op wasn't so busy. I stayed up even later, reading or binge-watching shows. Usually I didn't roll out of bed until ten or eleven. I was a night owl.
With a grunt, I rolled over and snatched my phone off the side table. I had several messages, all from Zander. I rubbed the scratchy feeling out of my eyes and studied the words.
Good morning, beautiful
I have some excellent news. Not only do I have the full names of all the people at my aunt's dinner party, but several of them will be at a charity ball tonight.
I flopped on my back and grinned. Morning! Awesome job on the names! How'd you find out they'll all be at this party?
My aunt's housekeeper. Apparently Aunt Linda was on the board of this charity and kept a list of the people who were supposed to attend. Her housekeeper did some cross-referencing for me. Will you go with me? What time are you finished with the ice cream van?
I paused and made a mental note about the housekeeper. What if I'd overheard her? Oof. The possibilities seemed endless. For now, though, the party sounded like a good place to begin narrowing suspects. I fought back a smile. Suspects. I was ridiculous, acting like a detective as I lay in bed in my monkey-print pajamas.
Since I'm my own boss, I can finish anytime I want.
Three little dots flashed on the screen, indicating that he was typing an answer.
How about I pick you up at eight?
That would be good. But a charity ball sounds pretty swanky. What should I wear?
It's a costume party
Uh… Now I was having serious doubts.
It's for a children's charity, and people dress up as superheroes and cartoon characters.
I bit my lip and imagined fashioning an ugly costume out of a bedsheet and tinfoil. Did I have a black unitard? Maybe I could be Catwoman. No, that would be unattractive and uncomfortable since I’d have to wear full-body shapewear to hide some lumpy bits.
My chest felt heavy with disappointment. What was I thinking, saying yes? I would certainly look like an idiot. Or could I somehow rent a costume somewhere? I might have to drive to the mainland for that, or raid a local Goodwill shop for ideas.
I'm not sure I can put a decent costume together in the next eight hours… So maybe I should pass? I'm sorry. :(
No worries! I can call in a favor and get the theme park to courier over some costumes. What's your size? I'll have one sent to you. Any preferences on the kind of costume or
character?
Hmm. What kind of costume? Cinderella? Elsa? Princess Leia? It was easy to imagine myself as any one of the three. I chuckled out loud and was about to text my answer when I lifted my thumbs from the screen. What would Zander choose for me? If it were my ex, it would be something totally inappropriate and too sexual, leaving me feeling self-conscious for the entire night. This would be a test.
That's really sweet. I'm a size twelve. Surprise me.
Exactly eleven hours later, there was a knock at my door.
"Coming." I hoisted my butter-yellow skirt. My muscles strained a little as I lifted the three layers and yards of fabric, and it took me a solid twenty seconds to get to the door when it normally would take five.
I swung the door open, and there was Zander in a prince costume. He stood tall and regal, his hands clasped behind his back. The hue and fabric of his blue velvet vest matched the bodice of my dress, and his red cape matched the piping details on my sleeve. A white, puffy-sleeve shirt and black pants completed the costume.
His eyes scanned my body, taking in the voluminous dress. A grin spread on his face, and he brought his hand from behind his back. In his palm, he held a shiny, perfect red apple.
"Beautiful Princess Snow White, I have a gift for you."
I curtseyed.
"Thank you, my prince. You look pretty sharp yourself." I accepted the apple and grabbed the blue velvet clutch purse that came with the costume. "And thanks for sending over the costume. I love it. Never worn anything like it. And the woman who delivered it was so detailed in telling me how to put it on."
"I figured you'd like it. It suits you, the colors. You're really beautiful, Hadley."
I tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear and murmured a thanks.
He offered me his arm. "Now, are you ready to do some investigating?"
I threaded my arm through his, and we proceeded carefully down the corridor and the stairs. He held his car door open for me, and it took both of us a few seconds to tuck my dress into the sleek, black BMW. At one point, our heads bumped against one another's. We were like the prince and princess of awkward.
