Stiff in the Sand Read online

  I drained half the wine in my glass in a single gulp.

  “Okay, ladies,” Mom called out, holding her hands above her head. “Emma’s love life is not the subject of this meeting.”

  “He’s not even—” I started, then realized I was fighting a losing battle. Like trying to fill a bucket when half the bottom had fallen out. “Anyway. Let’s move on. What else do you wanna know?”

  By the time an hour had passed, my voice was about to go and I felt like a wrung-out washcloth. I had nothing left to give, plus my sister had been feeding me sangria throughout the process so I was a little unsteady. Mom announced it was time to eat and socialize.

  I wondered what we had been doing until then and why it wasn’t considered socializing.

  I was glad to turn to the food, since I needed something to soak up all the wine in my otherwise empty belly.

  Breanna-from-yoga caught up to me, tugging my sleeve. “Hey. I just wanted to say I’m sorry this is all happening. It really sucks.”

  My voice was barely a whisper, and not because I was trying to be discreet. “Yeah, it does.”

  She twirled the end of her long braid, chewing her lip as she continued hounding me. “I shouldn’t have asked the question about the blood, but it just seems strange to me that there wasn’t a lot of it. My mom’s a nurse, and the first thing she said when she heard of this case is that there should’ve been a ton of blood if he was stabbed in the chest. I mean, it should’ve gotten everywhere.”

  “The knife was still in his chest when I found him,” I explained, still whispering, before popping a tapenade-covered cracker in my mouth. If I had to live on one thing and sugar was off the table, appetizers would be my next choice. I could make entire meals out of them.

  “I know, but still. Unless a person knew just where to insert the knife, it would be a bloodbath. You have to get pretty close to somebody to plunge a knife into their chest. Something would be bound to end up on the person who did it.”

  “Hmm. You’re right, I guess. I never thought about it that way.”

  “And there wasn’t a lot on him, either?” she asked, stroking her chin.

  The girl had my attention. Maybe this night wasn’t a complete loss. “No. A small pool on his chest. That’s it.”

  “Hmm. Maybe whoever did it knew where to stab to kill him right away. Otherwise, it seems like a pretty big coincidence that they happened to do it where they’d cause the least about of blood loss and kill him quick enough that he didn’t try to pull the knife out.”

  This girl was straight-up blowing my mind, and not because I was leaning toward tipsy thanks to my sister’s bartending skill. “That’s true. I mean, if there was a knife sticking out of your chest, wouldn’t you try to pull it out?”

  “Exactly. So they hit him right where they needed to on the first blow. That’s pretty lucky for them, I guess.”

  “And for him, I guess,” I added. “Less suffering.”

  “What if he was drugged?”

  He had been drinking an awful lot of champagne that night. And alcohol was a blood thinner. But there had hardly been any blood at all.

  Maybe somebody had drugged one of those glasses of champagne before he took it.

  Maybe he’d gone outside to clear his head, wondering why he was suddenly so woozy.

  Maybe that same somebody had followed him, knowing he’d be woozy and knowing he wouldn’t fight back.

  I left my plate on the table and took her by the arms. “Breanna, you’re a very interesting person and I’m sorry we haven’t spent more time together. That might have to change. Excuse me, I need to make a phone call.” I elbowed my way out of the house and onto the wraparound front porch on which I’d spent so many hours dreaming as a kid.

  Never did I imagine calling a detective about a murder I’d stumbled into.

  “Sullivan.” That was how he answered. His last name. Nothing more.

  “Detective Joe?” I asked, pacing the length of the porch.

  He paused. “I said it was me. Who is this? Who’s calling me Detective Joe?”

  “Emma Harmon.”

  “Why did I not know that before I asked?” he sighed. “Only you would call after nine o’clock.”

  “Oh. It’s that late? Why are you still at work?”

  “Because I find it so gosh-darned fun. Why are you calling? Are you in trouble?”

  “Unless you count a book club meeting that turned into me being grilled for an hour by curious and well-meaning neighbors as being in trouble, I’m okay.”

  “I don’t know. That sounds like trouble to me. What’s the matter?”

  “Did the toxicology report come back yet? On James Flynn?”

  “What?” he spat. “Why are you asking me about this?”

  “Somebody gave me an idea just now. What if he was drugged in advance of the killing? It makes sense, right? I mean, whoever did this had to get the stabbing just right. It couldn’t be a quick crime of passion sort of thing, done in anger. Not when they struck him in exactly the right place on the first try. He must’ve been slow, woozy. Maybe he had already fallen on the ground!” My voice was getting louder all the time, even though it had practically left me during my impromptu talk.

  “Emma—”

  “Either way, it was premeditated. It had to be. Nobody gets that lucky without advance planning. Somebody drugged him.”

  He paused for one long, silent beat. “Are you drunk?”

  “No!”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “…no?”

  “Jesus.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? Everybody knows Book Club is code for drinking wine and gossiping. Big deal. That shouldn’t negate what I’m telling you.”

  He sighed. He was very good at sighing. “Maybe you’ll listen to me now, while you’re under the influence, since you sure don’t listen while you’re sober. Stay. Out. Of. This. Investigation. Do you realize you’re wasting my time right now? I could be doing something worthwhile, but instead, I’m listening to inebriated ramblings from a would-be super sleuth.”

  That hurt. I couldn’t deny it. “Silly me, thinking somebody would be interested in learning the truth.”

  “Now, wait a minute.”

  “I mean, you have a man in jail when he stood to lose his shirt—his entire wardrobe—if this project went under. He had more to lose than just about anybody else. Meanwhile, it looks more and more like this was a premeditated crime, meaning that Robbie wouldn’t have done it even in a fit of rage. Who stabs once, then leaves their fingerprint-covered knife behind? It just doesn’t fit together.”

  He waited. When I offered nothing more, he asked, “Is that it? Or are you planning to tell me more about how I ought to do my job? Since you’re such a hit at book club meetings, maybe I could have you come in and lecture the force on proper detective work.”

  “Forget it,” I snapped, then ended the call before he could keep being mean. I wanted to throw the phone for good measure, but that wouldn’t be any help.

  Instead, I made another call. “Deke? I want to see your pictures again. This time, I know what to look for.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Remind me what we’re doing here?” Raina asked from the passenger seat as we cruised down darkened streets, looking for a garage with reasonable parking rates.

  “We’re lurking around to see if we can get into the resort even though it’s not technically open yet,” I explained. “Twenty dollars? Why would I spend twenty dollars to park? Jeez!”

  “If you don’t pick a garage soon and get it over with, you’ll end up spending more than that to refill your tank,” she pointed out. Always reasonable, my best friend. “Could we just park someplace close to the resort, please? I don’t love the idea of walking around here at night.”

  She had a point. Beyond the beachfront businesses, the town wasn’t exactly friendly to a pair of young women walking together in the dark.

  “I don’t kno
w how I let you talk me into things like this,” she whispered just loud enough for me to hear, looking out the window.

  “I heard that.”

  “I wanted you to hear it.” She giggled, taking the sting out of her words. “Honestly, this is one of your worst schemes. We’re never going to get close enough to see anything. They probably have everything locked up. And if they’re smart, they have somebody guarding the place. Probably a few somebodies. I’d bet anything.”

  “Sure, they do. And we’ll be quick about it. I just want to see inside the restaurant and get an idea of how much time actually passed between my leaving the kitchen and going outside. I want to time myself walking around the pool.”

  “Why? I asked you why over the phone and you wouldn’t tell me then.”

  “But you drove down, anyway. Which tells me you must think I have the right idea.”

  “Or I’m concerned about you sneaking around in the dark, alone,” she countered. “Em, I know how much this means to you, and I want to help you, but I can’t encourage you to take risks. And this is risky.”

  “Why? It’s the beach. No big deal.”

  “The beach at night. In the dark. And this isn’t Cape Hope. You don’t know people here. Gosh, back there you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting at least three people who’ve known you since the day you were born. But not every place is like that.”

  “You’re so worldly,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m trying to be serious.”

  “So am I. You know I wouldn’t keep pressing on this if I didn’t think I was on to something. If I thought there was even a slight chance of Robbie committing murder, I’d shake my head and click my tongue and move on with my life. I’d be sad, sure, and I would probably devour every word written about the case. But I’m completely positive he could never have done this, and I can’t sit back and let the wrong man rot in prison if he’s convicted. I feel it in my gut.”

  I knew from the sound of her heavy, put-upon sigh that she was about to say something I wouldn’t like. “Are you sure you’re not looking for something to take your mind off the break-up? It’s okay if you are!”

  “Wow, Raina.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to be your friend. I’m not trying to hurt you. If anything, I’m trying to keep you from being hurt.”

  “There’s no chance of being hurt by anybody but my best friend, who thinks I’m enough of a loser that I would do this as a means of distraction.”

  “I didn’t call you a loser, and I never would! You know I wouldn’t. You know I love you. But it’s because I love you that I feel I should say something, that’s all.”

  “I appreciate it, but it’s unnecessary. I know what I’m doing. Somebody has to speak up on Robbie’s behalf. Somebody has to care about him enough to go the extra mile, because nobody else has but me.”

  “You don’t think Detective Hottie McHotterson is doing his job?”

  I snickered. “I can only assume you mean Joe.”

  “Oh, so we’re on first name basis now?” Raina was good at that. She could change the subject easier than most people could change a lightbulb.

  “Sorry. Detective Sullivan.”

  She waved a playful finger. “No. You can’t take it back. You already called him Joe. So you don’t think he’s doing a good enough job? No wonder he gives you a hard time when you call him. I don’t think I would like it very much, either, if somebody kept second-guessing my work.”

  “I’m only trying to help.” I finally settled on a garage which charged a mere fifteen dollars for the first hour and pulled into the first empty spot I found.

  “Sure, but did you ever have somebody hover over your shoulder when they were only trying to help? And you knew you had things under control, and you didn’t really need them to help, but they insisted on hovering anyway? How did that make you feel?”

  I hated when she made a good point like that. Maybe I closed my car door a little louder than I needed to before replying, “Like they thought I was incompetent. Like they were trying to tell me they didn’t trust me or believe in me.”

  She wrapped a knee-length cardigan around her slim frame, nodding as we walked out of the garage. Her look this evening reminded me of Audrey Hepburn, ballet flats, fitted slacks, a white button-down. Even her sneaking-around clothes were more stylish than mine.

  “Exactly. My point is, he must feel the same way. No wonder he’s so brusque and abrupt with you. I would be the same way, quite frankly. And I know you would too, because I’ve seen how it irks you when people look over your shoulder when you’re working.”

  “Okay, I’ll grant you that. But this isn’t like a group project in school where one person thinks they can tell everybody else what to do. This is life or death stuff.”

  “I’m with you all the way. Whatever you decide to do. You know that.” She linked an arm through mine as we walked toward the beach. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or get yourself hurt. I can’t help it.”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “I also don’t wanna see your butt get thrown in jail for sticking your nose in police business and insulting a cop.”

  I scoffed with much more confidence than I felt. “Can they do that? I don’t think they can do that.”

  “You would know better than me. I bet if you got him mad enough, he could charge you with tampering or something like that.”

  She was right. He probably could. Which made this little adventure that much less exciting, while making not getting caught that much more crucial.

  Okay. Maybe it was still exciting.

  “When did you say Deke will be available to meet with you again?” Raina asked.

  I noticed her head swinging back and forth, like she was scanning the area around us for shady characters.

  “Not until some point this weekend. He’s photographing an event in Miami that I could be writing about right now as we speak if I was allowed to fly there.”

  “I think that’s ridiculous! You should’ve asked your dad to talk sense to Detective Hottie.”

  “I don’t need my dad to fight my battles,” I muttered. “Besides, I don’t know… Besides.” I pretended not to notice her soft sigh of disagreement.

  The resort sat like a tall, dark guardian at the end of the beach. So much promise in that unlit sign, the out-of-place palms swaying slightly in the sea breeze. It was enough to break my heart when I thought of all the work Robbie had put into making his restaurant something special.

  “It could be so good,” I whispered, my throat tight. “The food was outstanding. I’ve been doing my absolute best for days to polish up my thoughts on it so when the article finally gets published, he’ll get the kudos he deserves.”

  “And he will.” She touched her head to my shoulder. “You have the best heart of anybody. Sometimes I forget to tell you.”

  I only gave her a playful nudge, because what could I say to that?

  The closer we came to the building, however, clearing the dunes which blocked our view of the first few floors, the lights which burned inside were evident. “That’s more than just a few guards,” Raina observed. “What’s going on?”

  “Beats me.” Darn, I wished my pulse didn’t pick up speed at this turn of events. I had never considered myself the Nancy Drew type before now, but it seemed like I had a thing for mystery. A latent affinity for solving the unsolvable. At least, that was how I thought of myself as we approached the building.

  It was more exciting than thinking of myself as a snoop who couldn’t leave well enough alone.

  “I don’t know about this; people will see us,” Raina whispered, like there was anybody nearby to hear us. But it didn’t stop her from bending over the way I did, creeping over the grounds.

  “It’ll be fine. Now I wanna know what those people are doing in there. Are they getting ready to open?” I hoped so, I truly did. It would mean the business might start making money, that Robbie and Aubrey wo
uldn’t go bankrupt while he awaited trial. Kyle and all the other staff members could start working, too.

  I was glad I’d chosen to wear dark clothes, the two of us crouching behind a row of potted plants just yards from the inside of the restaurant. The kitchen lights were on, as were the lights over the bar, but nobody was visible.

  Yet.

  “Shh!” I hissed even though Raina wasn’t saying a word, as Kyle emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of what looked like beer in one hand. There were a couple of strangers behind him, taking notes as he pointed here and there, talking a mile a minute. “That’s Kyle, the sous chef. Aubrey’s brother.”

  “What’s he doing?” Raina breathed next to my ear.

  “I have no idea,” I breathed back. But he looked a lot more take-charge than he had back at his apartment earlier in the week. The word that came to mind as I watched him strutting around was peacock.

  “He’s walking around like he owns the place,” she whispered, reading my mind. “Are they opening without First Kiss Robbie?”

  “I guess they have to. Maybe he’s giving those people Robbie’s orders, you know? They worked very closely together on the project, Kyle said so.”

  “He would know better than anybody what Robbie had in mind, then,” she mused. “I wish we could hear what was happening in there.”

  “Maybe you should go in and ask.”

  Both Raina and I gasped before falling on our butts at a man’s voice behind us.

  I scrambled to my hands and knees and looked up, panic-stricken.

  Then groaned when I recognized none other than Joe Sullivan, aka Detective Hottie McHotterson, glaring down at me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “We weren’t trespassing. This is outrageous.” Raina tapped her foot on the patio, arms folded. “We were only…”

  Joe’s brows lifted. “Yes? You were only what?”

  “Looking around,” I finished. “We were only looking around.”