From Beer to Eternity

by Sherry Harris

  After I delivered the sparkling water to Ann, I went out on the deck to check on the people there. Holy guacamole, it was hot out here. The fans hanging down from the roof over the deck just stirred the hot air. But the view was spectacular and the tables were full.

  Since I’d started, I was becoming adept at shifting away quickly to avoid the bottom pinchers and slappers. It was almost like a ballroom dance step. Left, left, right, right! I’d managed to do it without dumping drinks on anyone so far. What I couldn’t figure out was why anyone thought they could pinch me like my bottom was a baby’s cheek.

  After Joaquín made the drinks and I delivered them, I knocked on the door to the office. I waited a beat, and then another. Finally, I heard a muffled “Come in.” Vivi was staring at her computer, at a spreadsheet. When she saw it was me, she closed the tab. A shot of her and Boone fishing together was her background photo.

  “Vivi, we have to talk,” I said.

  Vivi had on a sundress in bright floral oranges. Her hair was held back with a wide, white headband. She didn’t look happy to see me, but she gestured for me to sit down.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Really, Vivi? What? Don’t you think we need to talk about what happened in the lawyer’s office yesterday?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll buy you out.”

  As much as I wanted to scream yes and hug her, I thought of Boone’s letter. “No.” Boone, I hope you knew what the heck you were doing.

  Vivi reared back, like I’d threatened to hurt her. And really, my “no” probably did hurt her. She rolled back her desk chair a few inches. If I didn’t understand why Boone wanted me to keep a share of the bar, Vivi certainly wouldn’t understand it. She took a few deep breaths, composed her face like she was facing a troublesome child. Trust me, I knew that look, having used it on many children at the library.

  “I’ll pay you double what your portion is worth.”

  Double? Not that I’d let her pay me more than it was worth, but darn, she must really want me out of here, which, in some perverse way, made me want to keep my share.

  A firm knock on the door kept me from answering.

  “Vivi Slidell?” a deep male voice said. “This is Deputy Biffle. We need to talk.”

  Vivi’s face paled. I jumped up. “I’ll stall him for a couple of minutes. I heard that the channel knife was from here and had your fingerprints on it. Is that true?”

  “Yes. It is.”

  This was bad. Terrible. Dreadful. Pick your synonym. “Call your lawyer. You do have a lawyer, don’t you?”

  Vivi stiffened. “I do. Thank you for stalling Deputy Biffle.”

  I opened the door a crack and slipped through, forcing Deputy Biffle to step back. “Vivi will be with you in a minute. She’s finishing up a call.” He didn’t look happy at having to wait.

  “Can I get you a Coke or water or something?” I asked him. “We have a great selection of beers on tap if you’re off duty.” I was hoping he was, and that maybe he was just one of Vivi’s vast group of friends. But I guessed her pale face said otherwise, as did his uniform.

  “Coke, be nice,” he said. “My shift isn’t close to over.”

  Darn. “Why don’t you just sit there at the end of the bar while I get it,” I suggested.

  Deputy Biffle didn’t look happy, but he settled on the stool. I filled a tumbler with ice and used the nozzle to fill his glass, taking care to tip the glass so it wouldn’t foam too much. I set the glass in front of him, opened a bag of peanuts, dumped some into a small bowl, and gave him those too. He took a few of the peanuts and jiggled them around in his hand before he ate them. Maybe I could find out something about Elwell while he waited for Vivi.

  “You must see a lot of interesting things in the line of duty,” I said. “I read Florida Man stories all the time.” There were online sites that chronicled strange things that happened here. It really did seem like more odd things happened in Florida than other states, but I wasn’t sure if there was such a thing as Oklahoma Man, so maybe I just didn’t see the news from other states as much.

  The deputy chuckled. “Yeah, we read those too. Makes us feel better about living up here in the Panhandle, where there’s less crime.” He drank some of his Coke. “But we see enough.”

  “Anything fun you can tell me?” I asked.

  “I pulled over a guy driving a convertible the other day for weaving. Covered in olive oil and only wearing a thong.” He pronounced “convertible” slowly: con-v-er-ta-ble. “Smelled like roasting meat.”

  “Ack,” I said. “Drunk?”

  “Nope. Claimed he was trying to send a text, but his fingers kept slipping off the keys.”

  I laughed. “What was with the olive oil?”

  “Said it enhanced his tan. Like anyone who lives down here needs help in that department. Sun’s damn hot most of the year.”

  He finished his Coke and glanced at Vivi’s still-closed office door. What was she doing in there?

  “Any word on Elwell?” I asked. I knew I was going to lose him any minute to Vivi.

  He glanced at the door, lowering his eyebrows. He tipped his head toward the office door. “She’s got a lot to answer for.” He stood, hitched up his equipment belt, and strode over to the office. Just as he was about to knock, Vivi opened the door.

  “Come in. I am so sorry for keeping you waiting.” She almost fluttered her eyelashes at him, and her drawl was thicker than normal. At the same time, she managed to look like a prim Southern lady. A new look for the Vivi I knew, who was usually in full fierce mode. But maybe that was just with me.

  The door closed behind them both. Joaquín came over and stood by my side. “What do you think that’s about?”

  “The channel knife . . . the one that killed Elwell was from here. It had Vivi’s fingerprints on it.”

  Joaquín muttered in Spanish. “Did Vivi tell you that?”

  “She confirmed it but Frank Russo told me first. His ex-wife—”

  “Is Delores. The dispatcher.”

  I looked over at Vivi’s office. “You think a glass to the door really helps you hear through it?”

  Joaquín shot me a look. We didn’t know each other well enough for him to know I was kidding. At least I think I was. I picked up a glass and weighed it in my hand. Rocks glasses had thick bottoms. It didn’t seem to me they’d work. A few seconds later, the door opened. Vivi stepped out before Deputy Biffle. She had her hot pink designer purse over her arm and car keys in her hand.

  “I’ll be back later,” she said. Chin up, she led the deputy out the back of the bar.

  “Think she’s okay?” I asked Joaquín.

  “She’s a cat. Always lands on her feet.” The lines around his eyes belied his words. And I’d seen more than one cat that hadn’t landed on their feet. Old wives’ tales and all that.

  * * *

  Vivi didn’t show back up for the rest of the day. Joaquín changed the upbeat island music to the blues as we cleaned.

  “Need a happy drink?” Joaquín asked as we finished up.

  “Do I ever, but light on the alcohol. I have some errands to run.” I planned to go to the Crow’s Nest and look for Elwell’s daughter, Ivy, this evening. If I had eyes on her, talked to her, I hoped I could scratch her off my suspect list or go to Deputy Biffle and say, “It’s her, she did it, case closed.” Then I would take my bows, accept the thanks, and head back to Chicago.

  Joaquín made me a drink with strawberries, vodka, and tonic water.

  “Hey, where’s my umbrella?” I asked.

  He laughed and got me a blue one. Joaquín poured a beer for himself.

  “Did you have a chance to talk to Vivi about the bar?” Joaquín asked.

  “We had just started our discussion when Officer Biffle showed up.”

  “And?”

  “It wasn’t going well.” I took out the umbrella, closed it, and popped it back open. “Think it’s bad luck to open these paper umbrellas insid
e?”

  “I don’t believe in bad luck,” Joaquín said.

  “How come?” I asked.

  “I don’t believe in luck. I believe in choices that lead to good or bad things.”

  “You can make all the smart choices you want and bad things still happen.”

  “That’s not luck. It’s life.”

  “You’re probably right.” We sipped our drinks, contemplating that.

  “Did you read the letter from Boone?”

  “I did.” I couldn’t share what the letter had said. It was too personal to share with Joaquín. Actually it was too personal for me to share with anyone. At least for now. “What’s your family like, Joaquín?”

  “So you don’t want to talk about the letter?” I shook my head. “Okay. My family? Crazy. Loud. Loves a party.”

  “Do they live here?” I asked.

  “My mom does. One sister. The rest of my siblings are scattered around.”

  “How many siblings do you have?”

  “I’m the youngest of six. Three boys and three girls. Girl, boy, girl, boy, girl, boy. My dad died when I was twelve, which my mom says was a good thing.”

  My eyebrows drew together for a moment. “She does? Why?”

  Joaquín took a long drink of his beer. “Because she said I would have killed him or him me.”

  I couldn’t have been more confused. The Joaquín I knew was lighthearted, lovely, and caring. He didn’t seem to have a mean bone in his very toned body. Then it slowly dawned on me. “Because you’re gay?”

  “Yes.” He shoved away his beer. “I’m a Latino male who grew up in a devout Catholic family and I’m as gay as a rainbow. It probably would have killed my dad. Especially now that I’m married.”

  “I can’t believe I haven’t met your husband yet.” Maybe he liked to keep his work life separate from his personal life. “Do I get to meet him?”

  “I would love for you too. I’m just never sure how people will react.”

  I couldn’t begin to imagine how hard that must be. “And how is your family about the situation?”

  “They’ve all come around. My mom feels bad that she said I’d have killed my father. And everyone loves Michael.”

  I patted his arm.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Joaquín said. “You have errands to run and I have a husband to get home to.”

  If he knew what I was up to, he probably wouldn’t be so calm.

  CHAPTER 20

  Ten minutes later, I drove west on 98. Traffic in Destin wasn’t too bad at nine thirty at night. The beachgoers must have finished dinner and returned to their rentals, and the party animals weren’t yet out. I took the Destin Bridge over the East Pass. Only a few boats remained at Crab Island. The Crow’s Nest was on the west end of Okaloosa Island. The east end was less developed because of the Coast Guard station and the land owned by Eglin Air Force Base. A little sand blew across the divided, four-lane highway. It looked like blowing snow, and I instinctively slowed down until I remembered I wasn’t in Chicago anymore.

  I sped along until the speed limits lowered and I came to rows of restaurants, bars, and shops. Just before the Brooks Bridge, which went over the intercoastal waterway to Fort Walton Beach, I took a right. I drove past some restaurants and a park to a darker, seedier-looking area. The Crow’s Nest was right next to a strip joint. Lovely. I took a quick glance in the mirror after I parked. My eyes looked a bit weary, but I’d do. A couple of Harleys were parked along with trucks jacked up on huge tires.

  The bar’s windows had a dark tint with neon signs advertising a variety of beers. There was no way to look in and get an idea of what I was facing. I did a quick online search on my phone, but the Crow’s Nest didn’t even have a website. No more stalling. I forced myself out of the car, walked to the front door, and pushed open the heavy steel door. A few tables were scattered about, a pool table sat in the far corner. Barstools with backs lined the bar. A couple of booths were positioned near the restrooms. People sat as far away from one another as possible.

  My flip-flops made little sucking noises as I walked to the bar across the sticky concrete floor. I slipped onto one of the barstools, my feet dangling, and positioned myself near the taps and register. That’s where the action would be, if there was any. I left two barstools between me and two cowboys. They wore leather-tooled boots, neatly pressed jeans, long-sleeved, button-down shirts, cowboy hats, and big buckles that made them look like they were on the rodeo circuit. Or maybe they just bought them on Amazon. They stared openly, and I realized I’d been staring at them and hastily looked forward at the line of bottles of booze. The labels were faded on some bottles and torn off on others. That was odd, but this whole place reeked of misery. The two cowboys looked as out of place as I probably did.

  A woman with bleached, weathered hair slapped down a napkin in front of me. Thick black eyeliner smeared her upper eyelids. “What’ll you have?” she asked. Her voice had more gravel in it than Kathleen Turner’s in Body Heat. This woman looked about the same age as Leah, but more worn down, kind of like this whole place.

  The counter of the bar was cloudy with various stains. The taps had a little rust around the edges. “A bottle of Coors Light would be great. Thanks.” That should be safe enough.

  “Wanna glass?”

  “Nope. The bottle’s fine.” I didn’t trust that anyone had done a good job of washing out the glasses. A hard rock song that I couldn’t identify played through tinny-sounding speakers hung by suspiciously worn-looking wires. Bras in a range of colors and sizes hung from the rafters. Classy.

  The woman noticed me noticing them as she handed me my beer. “If you want to add yours, you get a free drink.”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  She laughed. “That’s what they all say when they come in. But obviously, they don’t all feel that way before they leave.”

  I laughed too. “Touché. Worked here long?”

  “Little over a month.”

  “How do you like it?” I took a sip of my beer for show. It tasted funny. Skunk beer.

  “Not bad. The last place I worked, the woman had a stick where the sun don’t shine.”

  Sounded like Vivi. This might be Ivy.

  “Sounds like my boss.”

  She gave me the once-over. “Yeah? Where do you work?”

  “The Sea Glass in Emerald Cove.”

  She swept another look across me. “Poor you.”

  “You know the place?”

  “Yeah. It’s where I used to work. The witch accused me of stealing and tossed me out. Then she killed my dad. I’m going to see to it she fries.”

  Woah. She had a lot of hostility going on. I wondered why she was so convinced Vivi killed him. “Elwell was your father? I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice sounded shaky, but there was no glisten of tears to go with it. “I heard some new girl found him. That you?”

  “Yeah. No one deserves to die like that.” Now what should I say? “He seemed like a nice man. You know how it is working in a bar.” A little crazy, with that whole armadillo shell thing going on.

  Ivy gave a small nod. “Elwell had his moments, but he could be a mean sumbitch too. It’s why my mom moved out a few months ago.”

  Interesting she called her father Elwell instead of some form of “father.” “Was he having health issues? I know sometimes that changes a person.”

  “Yeah, his health was at risk. My mom just about killed him when she caught him with the pool girl.”

  Elwell had been cheating on Gloria? Maybe she did kill him.

  “That’s just a figure of speech, of course. She was mad, but she still loved him. They were getting ready to get back together.”

  “That’s so sad.” I shook my head. “Do you know anyone else who had it in for him? If it wasn’t Vivi. I hope it wasn’t because I need a job.” Liar. “If Vivi is arrested, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes and tilted her head back
for a moment. “What’s it to you?”

  I’d always been too direct, but if I wanted people around here to answer my questions, I was going to have to give them a reason to do it. “He was good to me. And I found him.” I closed my eyes briefly as the image of Elwell behind the dumpster appeared like an unwanted specter. “I can’t help wondering what happened. And why. I want justice for Elwell, no matter who did it.”

  Now a tear glistened, or maybe some mascara had flaked off into her eye. “Lots of people were jealous of his success. Those snooty heritage business owners. They think they run Emerald Cove, but change is coming.”

  I took another sip of my beer, hoping she’d continue. I set it down and picked at the label.

  “They’ve stopped any real development for years. My dad was helping improve the area. He was gonna pass some laws so they could get more tourism.”

  Emerald Cove seemed chock full of tourists from what I could tell. The old Florida-style cottages with their wood frames, deep overhangs, lots of windows, and sleeping porches were a huge draw. Each with a unique picket fence only added to the charm that drew people there. Not to mention the beach. It was always on the list of top beaches put out annually.

  “How so?”

  She gave a quick glance up and down the bar before leaning in. “He had an insider on the town council. New zoning laws allowing for high-rises.”

  I shuddered to think of high-rises ruining the beaches in Emerald Cove. How could one person on the town council make a change on his own?

  “Who was Elwell talking to on the town council?” Not that I’d know them, but maybe I’d heard of them in the bar.

  Ivy narrowed her eyes at me again. She muttered something about helping another customer and moved to the other end of the bar. She leaned an elbow on the bar and talked to a man, but kept her eye on me. I really needed to work on my investigative technique so people would be more open.

  “You’re as pretty as a magnolia that just blossomed.”

  I turned to look at the cowboys. The one closest to me leaned in. “Or a just-born foal.”

  “That is possibly the weirdest compliment I’ve ever had.” I turned my back to them and pretended to take a couple more sips of my beer. When Ivy didn’t come back my way, I decided it was time to go. I put down the money for my beer plus a five as a tip before heading out.