“I went to the Crow’s Nest and talked to Ivy. And I’m pretty sure her boyfriend was there, listening to our conversation. Ivy wasn’t happy with me at the end. I guess I seemed too nosy about what her dad had been up to. Gloria and Leah both told me the boyfriend was trouble.”
“Your going to the Crow’s Next made the cowboy and his friend try to run you off the road and set the fire,” Joaquín said.
“Did the fire investigator figure out who started the fire?” Michael asked.
“Not that I know of. I don’t have any proof they did it. Just a bunch of suspicions,” I said.
Michael frowned at that. “What else?”
CHAPTER 35
“Ivy told me that Elwell had something going with someone on the town council to get zoning laws changed so high-rises could be built.”
Michael and Joaquín shuddered at that.
“What if one of the town council members is pretending to be anti-high-rise but isn’t?” I said. “The third anti-vote would have to be either Ralph or Fred.” I really didn’t want it to be big, cuddly Ralph.
“Two of them are heritage owners,” Michael said, pointing out the obvious.
“Fred seems the most likely,” Joaquín said. “Taking into consideration what you overheard in his store.”
“Couldn’t Ralph be just as likely, or the other council member?”
“Why?” Michael asked.
“More tourists, more revenue,” I said.
“But this area has always been about something more than revenue to the heritage business owners.” Michael downed the rest of his coffee. “I guess one of those three council members might be in financial trouble and needs cash. That could give a lot of people a reason to change their vote.”
“More coffee?” Joaquín asked.
“Someone can drink more than one cup of this stuff ?” I asked. I was already feeling jittery and I was only halfway through the cup.
“You just need some Latino blood,” Joaquín said. “Is that it for the suspects?”
I shook my head. “Buford has a bad temper and a long-running love/hate relationship with Elwell.” I filled them in on what Ed had told me the other night.
“We need to figure out a way to whittle down this list,” Joaquín said.
“One more. Ann Williams, the handywoman.”
Michael burst out laughing. “Handywoman?”
“Yes. She fixes things.”
Michael looked over at Joaquín and grinned.
“Okay. That’s it. What’s with everyone and all the looks when I mention Ann being a handywoman? Are you all so old-fashioned you don’t think a woman can handle it?” After all, this was the South. Maybe they still thought like it was the Stone Age. I hated that kind of thinking.
They both burst out laughing.
Joaquín finally got himself under control after wiping a tear away from his eye. “I never said she was a handywoman. I said she fixes things.”
I looked back and forth between them. “She. Fixes. Things?” They nodded encouragingly, and suddenly I felt like an idiot as the truth crashed down on my wee brain. “She fixes things like people’s problems, not their broken toilets?” They nodded again. I clapped my hands to my face for a moment. “Oh. My. Heavens. Why didn’t someone say something when I was asking her to fix my door and other things?” I gulped down some coffee. “And why didn’t she just tell me no?” I’d gone from embarrassed to humiliated in two seconds.
“She knows everyone,” Joaquín said.
“Ann’s a nice person. You’re new here. She probably just wanted to help you out.” Michael reached over and patted my hand. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t. How could I ever face her again? But then, how could I have known? I’d never met a “fixer” before. Who’d expect one in this small town? It’s something you’d expect in a big city like Chicago or Boston, where there were plenty of goings on. “That explains why I couldn’t find her business listed on social media.”
“And of course, Williams is her mother’s last name, not her father’s,” Michael said.
“Michael—” Joaquín said with a warning tone.
Michael looked at Joaquín. “It seems like y’all have been keeping a lot of secrets from Chloe.”
Joaquín huffed. “She’s new. Northern. How did we know if we could trust her?” Joaquín turned to me. “No offense, Chloe, but you did just show up out of the blue.”
“Northern? Really? You’re prejudice against Northerners now?” Michael asked. “We of all people shouldn’t judge.”
“I’m sorry, Chloe. It’s more the new thing, not the Northern thing.”
“Understood,” I said. But I felt a little disappointed.
“Her actual last name is Lafitte but she doesn’t use it,” Joaquín said. He cast a sharp look at Michael that I interpreted to mean see, I’m being upfront now.
Lafitte. Lafitte. “As in the pirate Jean Lafitte?” I asked.
“He wasn’t just a pirate,” Michael said hastily.
“He was a hero during the War of 1812,” Joaquín added. “And please don’t tell anyone. Ann is—sensitive.”
She was about as sensitive as a sadistic dentist. Joaquín stood up when someone banged on the Gulf-side sliding-glass doors. Customers were here already. “I have a headache,” he said as he walked over to open up.
I looked at Michael. “Let me know if you make sense of any of this. Because none of it explains why Elwell was killed, or why he was killed here.”
“I will.”
We exchanged phone numbers and hugged our goodbyes. Eleven o’clock and I hadn’t sliced one lime yet.
* * *
Vivi called, said she had a headache and wasn’t coming in. Lots of headaches going around, but you couldn’t blame the weather. If the water was an emerald today, the sky dazzled with a showy blue topaz. The bar was busy, the tourists were happy, and the regulars, except for Buford and Ed, were nowhere to be found. Joaquín swiveled his hips in time to the music as he always did, but with a bit less enthusiasm than usual. There’d been no time for follow-up about our discussion. No time to talk about anything but drink orders—things like two beers, two tequila shots, one daiquiri, and order up. I wished one of those orders was for me.
At four, I got a text from Michael saying to come home with Joaquín and he’d make us all a late dinner. It sounded like heaven, and maybe he’d figured something out. The rest of the day went faster than our blender whirred. People had cleared out around eight thirty, so we were able to clean up and lock the doors just after nine. Joaquín and I were too tired to talk as he traipsed down the dock toward his boat.
“This is your fishing boat?” I asked Joaquín as we stepped into the air-conditioned cabin of the boat. It was outfitted with teak and leather-cushioned furniture. Very grand to go fishing on.
“No. The fishing boat is the one in the next slip.” Michael came forward to greet us with a fruity drink with an umbrella in it. It looked happy. I took the drink. Michael had a beer for himself and sparkling water for Joaquín.
“Cheers,” we said.
I took a sip, and my taste buds danced with the mango and peach flavors. “Delicious.”
“Michael is a genius when it comes to mixed drinks,” Joaquín said as we settled at the dining room table, which was across from the small but well-appointed kitchen. “We tried living on the fishing boat, but it was too small.”
“And I had to get up at the crack of dawn every morning.” Michael looked at Joaquín.
“It smells delicious in here,” I said.
“Caesar salad, steak with three sauces because I didn’t know which you’d like, and flan for dessert,” Michael said. “And no shop or suspect talk until dinner is over.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’d tried all three sauces on different bites of steak and truly couldn’t say if the Béarnaise, red wine, or garlic butter sauce was better. Each one was delicious in its own way. Michael had also baked French bread that was cr
usty on the outside and soft inside. I didn’t think I had room for flan, but once he set a piece in front of me, I devoured it.
“That was spectacular. If you ever decide to leave Joaquín, I have an extra bedroom.”
Michael laughed. “Not going to happen.”
I insisted on clearing the table and washing the dishes. It was ten thirty by the time I finished.
“An after-dinner liqueur?” Joaquín asked.
“Not for me. I wouldn’t be able to stay awake, and I’d have to unbutton my shorts.”
Joaquín, who hadn’t had a predinner drink or any of the cabernet with dinner, poured himself a Chambord, a black raspberry–flavored liqueur, into a tiny, expensive-looking liqueur glass. We went back into the living room.
“So, getting back to the main event, do you have any other suspects?” Michael asked in a way that made me think he had one.
“Just Rhett Barnett.”
“Why him?” Joaquín asked.
“He’s always around,” I said. “I know that sounds odd because he has a boat here too. But I’ve run into him a lot at odd hours.” I thought for a moment about him saying nothing was wrong with me last night. I repressed the smile that wanted to go with that thought. “He’s a fireman, so he knows how to set a fire. There’s some long-running feud between his family and Vivi’s.” I looked back and forth between them in hopes they would confirm what Ed had told me. Nothing. “And he was out on the dock the morning I found Elwell.”
“He was?” Joaquín asked. “What was he doing there?”
“He was probably staying on his boat.” I explained how I’d met Rhett. The snoring. Heat creeped up my face. Michael made a little hiccup sound. Joaquín made a meep noise. Then all three of us burst out laughing, and laughed until we could hardly breath.
“Now I’m definitely not going to be your roommate,” Michael said.
“Poor me.” It felt good to laugh so hard. “And I was sure it would work out between us.”
“Seriously, though,” Joaquín said, “you think he could be involved?”
“He’s very chummy with Ann Williams. I keep seeing them together. It’s one of those she-says-jump and he says how-high situations. It made me wonder about both of them. But you two probably know him better than I do.”
“Not really,” Joaquín said. “He moved back about a year ago. My two jobs keep me busy, and it’s not like he hangs out at the Sea Glass.”
“Where’d he move back from?” I asked.
“Birmingham. He practiced law there,” Joaquín said.
I’d known he was a lawyer, but not where he practiced. “From what I know of him, he seems like a good guy,” Michael said. “Doesn’t rule him out, though. But why Ann?”
“I’ve seen her with those cowboys a couple of times. And they are definitely up to no good.” Fixers must have to blur some ethical lines. Good. Evil. Right. Wrong. Murky shades in between all of them.
Joaquín yawned, so I stood up and said my goodbyes. I let them think I was heading home, but instead, I was going to track down Ann Lafitte.
CHAPTER 36
I walked west from Joaquín and Michael’s boat until I reached Two Bobs. I hoped Ann was there, with or without the cowboys. Well, preferably without, but I needed to talk to her. She wasn’t on the back deck, so I went on in. The place was packed again. I studied the big chalkboard they had up listing their drinks and prices.
The prices were a few dollars less than the drinks at the Sea Glass. I thought our prices were reasonable, especially compared to what I was used to paying in Chicago. Maybe the cheap drinks were why this place was always so crowded. I noticed that the beer prices were the same or higher than the Sea Glass, which fit right into my theory.
I ordered another margarita, this time on the rocks instead of a frozen one from the machine. Maybe they skimped on the amount of alcohol they put in their drinks and that was why they were less. When the bartender handed me mine, I took a sip. Nope. There was plenty of alcohol in this; my eyes almost watered. It was so different from the frozen one I’d had here the first time I came.
I thought about the day I’d made the mojito for the college guy. How he’d complained it didn’t taste like the one he’d had somewhere else. Vivi, like any bar owner, had a range of qualities of alcohol, from the cheapest used for well drinks to the super premium that people requested by brand. If Two Bobs was using smuggled alcohol instead of purchasing like everyone else had to, their profits would be through the roof even if they charged less. I didn’t plan to drink anymore of it, but it made an excellent prop as I wandered around looking for Ann.
I found her out on the front deck, her back against the wall and a glass of beer in front of her. She didn’t seem all that surprised to see me. I sat on the stool across from her and set my drink on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me you aren’t a handywoman? Why take care of all of that stuff for me?”
Ann lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “You’re new and needed help. I don’t exactly advertise what I really do, especially not to newcomers.”
I got that. “Thanks for taking care of all that for me. I’d like to pay you.”
“Not necessary.”
I took a sip of my margarita. “Drink prices are cheap here.” It was time to talk about why I was really here.
Ann nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“And I think you know why. I was with Oscar last night on his midnight run.”
“Stupid old man.” A flick of distress passed across Ann’s face. “Oscar’s a problem I’m going to have to take care of.”
Now I was distressed and didn’t try to hide the fact. “What do you mean ‘take care of’?” I should have handled this differently. I should have gone to the sheriff’s department. If Ann was working with the cowboys, I knew how they tried to take care of problems. But it wasn’t too late to do that. I stood up.
“Sit, please,” Ann said. She looked like she was going to smile, or maybe it was the dim lighting. “I mean I’m going to call Leah and tell her what Oscar is up to.”
“Smuggling whiskey?”
Ann hesitated. “Vivi was suspicious something like that was going on and asked me to look into it.”
“Why didn’t she call the authorities?”
“You don’t get it yet. How close these people are. They go back generations and would rather chop off an arm than hurt one of their friends, even if one is hurting them.” She took a sip of the beer in front of her.
“It looked to me like you were an active participant in the smuggling.”
“You aren’t wrong, but it was the only way I could find out who was doing what.”
“So, do you know?”
For the first time she looked hesitant. “Not enough. I’m still working on who the higher-ups are.”
“Why don’t you go to the authorities?”
“Because I don’t know who’s corrupt and who isn’t. But I will soon, if you stay out of it. I’m good at what I do. Just give me a bit more time. Please.”
I remembered a case in Chicago when the Secret Service had helped investigate and convict liquor store operators. “The Secret Service worked a case like this in Illinois. There must be some agency you can go to for help if you don’t trust the locals.”
“It might not be just the locals. Millions of dollars can be made by not paying taxes on alcohol. If it comes from Mexico or Cuba or someone making their own.”
I thought of all the swamps and woods around here. There were plenty of places to hide a still.
“I’m keeping someone I trust in the loop, so if something happens to me, they will share what I’ve found out so far,” Ann said.
This must be really serious if Ann was worried something could happen to her. “Rhett?” Ann’s face was so neutral, it could have been Switzerland. We stared at each other for several moments.
“Yes.”
“And you two are dating?”
Ann burst out laughing. I’d rarely seen her smile. M
uch less laugh. “No. But I can see why you might think that. We’ve ended up sneaking around a lot. Someone else has captured his attention.”
“Oh,” I said. Figures. I couldn’t imagine any warm-blooded, straight woman who wouldn’t want him.
“I’m talking about you.”
“Oh!” I didn’t want to talk about this with Ann, even though she claimed she wasn’t interested in him. “What about Oscar? Keeping him safe?”
Ann drooped a little. “I was shocked to see him out there last night. He must be reliving his youth.”
“What?” I decided I needed a drink of the margarita after all and took a healthy swig. This time my eyes did water.
“Back in the sixties, when business was slow, Oscar would run bales of marijuana up to Alabama for distribution farther north. Somehow, he never got caught, but plenty of people around here knew about it.” She took another swig of her beer. “I’ll make sure Leah knows he’s been out on the boat late at night. And you should be more careful. These people don’t want to be messed with.”
“Does Elwell’s death have anything to do with this?”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t seen or heard of any connections.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I answered your questions.”
Everything she said had a ring of truth to it. But I’d be following up with Vivi anyway. Even if Vivi vouched for Ann, I still might not be convinced. Who was to say Ann wasn’t really working with the bad guys, double-crossing Vivi? You don’t become known as a “fixer” if you weren’t willing to cross some lines.
* * *
An hour later, I sat out on the screened porch, unable to sleep. My mind was buzzing with conversations from today. I focused in on a thought that had been rolling around the edges since I’d come out here. What if Boone died because someone wanted the bar? It was an excruciating thought. It was ludicrous to think that someone from here could kill someone halfway across the world. But I could see the logic—if one could call it that—in it, as horrible as it was.
There were four active military bases in a one-hundred-mile-stretch between Pensacola and Panama City. It meant thousands of active-duty military personnel and numerous contractors were in the area at all times. Murder was in the realm of possibility; Boone had been killed by a sniper.
From Beer to Eternity Page 20
