From Beer to Eternity

by Sherry Harris

  “I thought you had some fancy job back home.”

  Word about me had spread fast. “I’m on a leave of absence.” Not that working in a library was exactly fancy. “Boone was my dear friend. My best friend. I couldn’t miss his memorial service.” Tears threatened, so I looked down and blinked hard before I looked back up. I wished I could take back my promise to Boone. I wished I were back at my job in the library, wiping snotty noses and recommending books. That job was like being Santa Claus. Finding the right book for the right child was a great gift. To see their shiny, happy faces at story time brought me joy.

  According to my dad, wishes were for the weak. You had to make your own destiny. Right now, my destiny was here, working in the bar was interesting, and I was learning a lot. I could do a lot worse than being at the beach for part of the summer.

  Ralph was still holding my hand in his large one. I pulled mine away. “Boone was my friend,” I said again as I walked off. I understood where Ralph was coming from. He was trying to protect his friend. Boone would have done the same for me. But that didn’t mean I was going to start spilling my emotional guts to someone I barely knew. Trust would have to be a two-way street.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, I drove to Fort Walton Beach, impatient with all the traffic. It was gorgeous out; everyone should be at the beach. I finally found Pugh Motors. It was a used-car dealership in a rundown-looking building, but the lot was full of Cadillacs, SUVs, and trucks. All of them sparkled in the sunlight as a breeze snapped banners hanging on poles. I parked the car and got out. I went over to a massive, jacked-up pickup, wondering how the heck someone even climbed into it. The wheels were almost as tall as I was.

  “Interested in a truck?” a woman asked.

  I turned to find a woman in a pretty teal sundress standing there. She was in every way the opposite of what I expected a used car salesperson to be. “I drive a vintage Beetle.” I gestured toward my car. “I’m guessing this gives one an entirely different view of the world. I’d need a ladder to get in.”

  The woman laughed. Her gray hair curled around her chin. “I figured the guy who owned it was compensating for something. His wife made him trade it in for a minivan.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh.

  “You look more like a sports car. Convertible.”

  “It would be fun, but my skin would fry.”

  “Stick around long enough and you’ll get a good base coat of Florida sunshine on that milky white skin.”

  “I hope so. I usually just turn shades of red.”

  “What can I help you with?”

  I didn’t think she’d be offering me any financial information about the dealership, which is what I really wanted to know. But before I had time to come up with something, she continued on.

  She leaned in a little and dropped her voice. “I can give you a heck of a deal today and a great trade-in.” She glanced back at the building. “My manager’s out, and by the time he’s figured out what we’ve done, you’ll be long gone, sitting pretty in a brand-new used car.”

  So, she might look different from a typical used car salesperson, but she talked just like one. Today-only specials, along with ‘the manager’s out’ were red flags for scams. Had Elwell known what was going on here or not? “I was hoping to speak to Elwell. He always promised me if I needed a car that he’d give me a great deal and five hundred above the blue book price for my Beetle.”

  A flash of sadness erased the friendly salesperson expression. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Elwell passed.” She really did look sorry.

  I clasped a hand to my chest. “Heart attack?” It seemed as good a choice as any, and Elwell had had a paunch.

  “He was murdered.”

  “Oh, my. Have they caught the person who killed him?” I glanced over my shoulder like I was afraid the murderer was right behind me.

  “No. But my cousin works at the Walton County Sheriff’s Department, and they have a high degree of confidence that the owner of the bar Elwell was found behind did it. They hope to make an arrest soon.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Noooooo. I made an excuse or maybe a bunch of them. I was so shocked by what she had said, I wasn’t sure what I had said, but soon I was back in my car heading toward Destin. I didn’t want to sit in Boone’s house all by myself worrying, so I parked at Destin’s harbor and strolled around. Big yachts moved out of the harbor and toward the East Pass. From there, they could head south to the Gulf or north to Choctawhatchee Bay. There were all kinds of tourist lures here, from pirate tours on sailboats to beach art to restaurants and bars. The signs for parasailing tempted me, but then I saw one for Jet Skis and, to quote my dad’s favorite movie, Top Gun, I “felt the need for speed.”

  After a safety briefing and a quick how-to-use-the-Jet-Ski lesson, I was chugging up the East Pass toward the harbor. I passed under the Destin Bridge that linked Destin to Okaloosa Island. The bridge I’d driven over to get to Fort Walton Beach and back. Traffic was still slow. After I got through the no-wake zone, I cranked the throttle. Moments later, I was flying. Well, it felt like it anyway. The water was clear, with just a little chop from a breeze. I headed away from the crowds, and soon, I was spinning and enjoying the slap of wind in my face. Alive. Free.

  Eventually, I slowed down and headed back toward the pass. Northwest of the Destin Bridge, I spotted a huge group of boats, what looked like a floating restaurant and bar, and kids bouncing on a huge, inflated trampoline. This was the area locals called Crab Island. I’d seen it from the bridge but never from this vantage point. It wasn’t an island at all but a shallow spot in Choctawhatchee Bay that had become popular with boaters.

  I drove closer, weaving around boats and people until I smelled fried something wafting across the air. It made me hungry, so I pulled up to the restaurant, tethered the Jet Ski to it, and climbed onto the dock. I ordered a grouper sandwich, fries, and a beer. Once I got my order, I took it back to my Jet Ski and puttered to an empty spot that was prime for watching the party and eating my food.

  Different types of music fought with one another; country and rap seemed to be winning out. People floated in the water—some on their backs and some on rafts—with coolers floating next to them. Half of them looked like their sunburns had burns, another quarter were bronzed to perfection, and quite a few looked like they’d had more than one drink. I spotted Elwell’s wife, Gloria, lounging on a pontoon with a group of people. She had a full martini glass in her hand. Her head was thrown back, and her deep, throaty laugh drifted across the water. She sure didn’t look too broken up for a woman who’d just accused a group of presumed friends of murdering her husband.

  I motored slowly over to the vicinity of her pontoon. I kept my back to her, not that she’d recognize me out of the context of the bar. I strained to listen to bits of conversation while I ate. The grouper was nicely spiced and tender, the fries hot and crispy. The beer went down a little too easily. I wished I had another one, even though I didn’t believe in drinking and boating. I’d seen and heard enough about boating accidents on Lake Michigan.

  “It’s complicated.”

  That sounded like Elwell’s wife.

  “Of course I’m sad, even though we weren’t living together. We talked almost every day. But I told him I wasn’t coming home until he quit wearing that damned armadillo shell on his head.”

  “Why was he wearing it?” a man asked.

  I risked a glance. The man had his hand on Gloria’s thigh. She didn’t seem to mind.

  She leaned in toward him. “He thought it made him more virile, but trust me, it didn’t.” The man’s mouth dropped open in surprise and he laughed. Ack. I could have gone forever without hearing that. Elwell’s wife started to turn her head in my direction. I started up the Jet Ski and headed back toward the harbor.

  All I’d learn today was that Ewell had pissed off some people, which I’d heard before, that his dealership was possibly shady, Vivi might be suspect number o
ne, and that Elwell had explained to his wife why he was wearing the armadillo shell. Although his explanation to me was something different. Thank heavens.

  Nothing I learned was enough to save Vivi, if she was going to need saving. If only there was a book at the library on how to catch a killer. I’d started reading mysteries as a kid, when my grandmother handed me a Nancy Drew. I still devoured mysteries today. But nothing I’d ever read had prepared me for this. I needed to know who killed Elwell because I needed it not to be Vivi. Then I’d be off the hook and could go back to Chicago to a place where I fit in.

  After I returned home, I napped. Being out in the hot sun had been exhilarating but had worn me out. After I woke, I showered and headed back to Destin around nine. I didn’t want to sit at Boone’s house and mope about being alone, so I’d looked up some bars—after all, I was only twenty-eight. I settled on a place called AJ’s, with its outdoor deck and self-described happening scene. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of dancing and flirting with Air Force personnel and locals. I passed on the invitations to go home with someone. The attention was flattering, but I wasn’t desperate—not yet anyway. In the end, none of it could chase away my anxiety about Vivi’s possible arrest. Nor did it help me figure out what to do next.

  * * *

  Banging on my back-porch door woke me up Wednesday morning. I opened one eye, grabbed my phone, and squinted at it: seven a.m. Whoever was out there was rattling the door so hard, I was afraid it would fall off. It wasn’t that sturdy in the first place. A man was yelling my name too. I rolled out of bed, threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and ran a hand through my short hair as I stumbled out through the sliding glass door.

  Rhett Barnett stood there on the other side of the screen door. He wore running shorts. A T-shirt was slung over one shoulder and his tanned chest gleamed with sweat. My mouth was dry. Please God let it be from last night’s festivities—a little too much wine and dancing, not enough water—and not from the sight of Rhett. Because after seeing him with Ann the other night I needed to keep my emotions and my hormones in check. No more handsome guys with girlfriends. Been there, made that mistake, wouldn’t do it again.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice growled and crackled out of me. Darn, dry mouth. I kept the door between us.

  He pulled on the door again, and it came off its flimsy hinges. “Sorry. I’ll fix it.”

  I flashed to a picture of him with a carpenter’s belt slung low on his hips, rehanging the door. I blinked twice to rid myself of the image. I stepped back as he came in. He looked down at me, concern in his eyes, laugh wrinkles deepening, but not because he was smiling.

  “It’s Vivi,” he said. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He must have run over here from somewhere.

  “What? Is she okay?” Thoughts of heart attacks and accidents chilled me.

  “She’s been taken in for questioning. For Elwell’s murder.”

  I stared at him. “They questioned her Monday too.” Vivi being questioned twice was worrisome.

  “They did?” Rhett frowned.

  “Come in. I’ll make coffee.” I desperately needed to do something while I processed what he’d just said. He followed me through the slider into my bedroom. It looked like I’d wrestled the sheets and comforter into submission. A paperback by Laura Lippman was sprawled on the floor. We crossed the living room to the kitchen. My hands shook and my heart rumbaed as I made the coffee and thought about Vivi. While the old coffee maker gurgled, I turned to Rhett.

  “How do you know she was taken in?” This was no time to have my thoughts be so sluggish. Maybe the Dolores he’d called when I’d found Elwell told him. I poured a glass of water and chugged it. “Water?” I asked when I was finished.

  “Yes, please.” I grabbed him one of the old Mason jar glasses and filled it. He drank. The smell of coffee pushed away the masculine scent of Rhett, much to my relief. I wished he’d put his shirt back on. That chest was distracting. And the abs. So many abs. Mine were all hidden behind a small roll of fat.

  “Vivi?” I asked again. “It’s not surprising she was questioned. Elwell was found right behind the Sea Glass, and they had a history.” I paused. “It’s not great that they are questioning her again, but you seem very upset about it. Why?”

  “Because they didn’t just ask her to answer questions. A deputy came and picked her up this morning as she was heading into the Sea Glass.”

  I frowned. That didn’t sound good. “Do you think they’re going to arrest her?”

  Rhett put down his water glass and pulled his T-shirt back on. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. I’d only been here a week and I was already thinking in Southern phrases. Maybe now my heart rate would quit the dance it had been doing.

  “I think it’s likely they’ll arrest her.”

  “That’s not what I wanted you to say.”

  Rhett looked in my eyes for a moment. “It’s not what I wanted to say.”

  “It’s terrible,” I said. Worse than terrible. I couldn’t let this happen. But before I figured out my next step, I needed caffeine. I took two cups off the mug tree on the counter and filled them with coffee. “I don’t have any sweetener or cream.”

  “Black’s fine.” He took the cup from me and drank a bit. “Terrible describes it.”

  “My coffee?” Great now he didn’t like my coffee. I was renown in Chicago for my coffee-making skills. That might be a tiny exaggeration, but I could make a decent cup. Rachel always liked it.

  “No. The situation with Vivi is terrible. The coffee is great.”

  I sipped some confirming that it was indeed great. “Why did you come to tell me?” Now that I’d gotten over the initial shock of the news, the sight of a shirtless Rhett, and I’d had a bit of coffee, my brain seemed to be slowly kicking back into gear.

  “I was coming back from a run when I saw Vivi with the deputy. She asked me to let you know. Joaquín is out on his boat. Vivi said someone had to open.”

  What the heck? That’s what Vivi was worried about? Not the fact that the deputy was going to haul her off? Even with the Vivi distress, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Rhett wasn’t here because he wanted to be the one to tell me the news. “She was taken in for questioning for murder and she’s worried about the Sea Glass?” I took a long drink of my too-hot coffee. Show no pain.

  “It’s her baby. Especially now that Boone is gone. The heritage business owners are her family.”

  He knew a lot about Vivi, considering the feud. “Is there anyway to get hold of Joaquín?” He’d be better equipped to deal with this.

  “I tried his cell phone but didn’t reach him. He should return in an hour or two. I’ll watch the dock for him.”

  Interesting that he had Joaquín’s cell phone number. “She’ll need a lawyer. Money for bail.” I didn’t think she’d had a lawyer with her yesterday, but she should if she was back for another round. Wade would probably know if she had a lawyer.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. They may just be trying to intimidate her.”

  “Then they obviously don’t know who they are dealing with.”

  CHAPTER 13

  A smile crossed Rhett’s face for the first time since he’d yanked the door off its hinges. “You don’t seem surprised by this.”

  I thought of the angry voices I’d heard. What the woman at the dealership had said. I guess I wasn’t all that surprised, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Rhett. “Thanks for coming over,” I said. “I’ll drive over in a little while and open up.” Drat. I smacked my forehead. I’d taken a ride share home last night instead of risking driving after a few glasses of wine. Ouch. I rubbed my hand to my forehead. Smacking myself was stupid after partying last night.

  Rhett looked at me curiously. “What’s that about?”

  “My car’s at AJ’s. I have to go get it.”

  “I’ll run home, get my car, and drive you to yours. It’ll give us both a chance to clean up.”

  �
��Don’t you have to be at work?” I asked.

  “My hours are flexible.”

  Rhett didn’t add anything about why, and this didn’t seem like the time to question him, when Vivi was in trouble. Though I was curious about what he did for a living.

  “Okay. Thanks.” A ride would mean fraternizing with the enemy, but in this case, it would make my life easier and save me some money. Besides, he wasn’t my enemy; he was Vivi’s. I followed him to the back and watched him run off in strong strides. I fanned myself a little. It was wrong to appreciate him at a time like this. Just wrong. Think of Ann. The beautiful babies they’d make.

  I walked to the bathroom to get ready and gasped when I looked in the mirror at the mascara under my eyes and my disheveled hair. Lovely. But what did I care? Hot guy, me looking like something that washed up on shore, and not in an alluring, mermaid way. No big deal.

  He was off-limits because I’d sworn off hot guys, Rhett was with Ann, and because Vivi didn’t like his grandmother. If we were West Side Story, he was the Jets and I was the Sharks. It wouldn’t end well. But accepting a ride to my car so I could get back and open the bar—that would be okay. It wasn’t a big deal. Really, it wasn’t.

  I powered through my shower routine. My short hair could dry on its own, although it took a bit longer in the humidity and had more waves than normal. A bit of mascara, eye shadow, and lipstick helped me look way better than I had before. Another pair of shorts and a fresh, scoop-necked T-shirt completed my look.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, we were headed out in Rhett’s BMW convertible. He had the air conditioner on to counteract the beating the sun was giving us. A BMW and a boat. I wondered if he was a gambler, like Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, if he’d inherited money, or if he was some kind of consultant who set his own hours.