Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 03 - Secrets at Sea (8 page)

“Wow,” he said.

I told him about the other woman who had been killed.

“It doesn’t sound like a very safe inn, Teach.”

I ignored his comment and the fact that Tom would agree with him. “Have you found anything on Adam?”

“Not yet. I went over to the high school but they were working in the computer lab and I couldn’t get on.”

“Okay, add Betsy to your list and see if you can find out anything about the other dead woman in our inn.”

“Sure. They said they’d be done today and I could go in on Monday and use the machines. If my mom would just pay for something besides dial-up, I’d already have the information for you.”

“Maybe I should pay for it,” I suggested.

“You know Mom wouldn’t let you.”

“I could pay you for all your searching, then you could get the high-speed connection yourself.”

“Now that she might go for, Teach.”

“Perfect, tell her and when I get back I’ll give you the money to set it up.”

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you. I couldn’t do this job without your help.”

I heard Shelby barking in the distance. “Oh no,” Justin said. “My mom just turned on the vacuum. I forgot to tell her Shelby attacks it. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye,” his voice faded and the connection dropped.

“Justin’s mom is having fun with Shelby, I hear,” Tom said.

“Yes, Shelby’s creating havoc everywhere she goes.”

“You’re going to pay for Justin’s Internet service?”

“Yes. He’s always looking things up for me and he always has to go over to the high school to use their computers.”

The waitress brought the bill. Tom paid it and we left the restaurant. Since it was after nine, the sky was dark and lit with stars. The lights from the shops and on many of the boats moored at the marina made the walkway look even more beautiful at night.

When we turned the corner toward the parking lot, Detective Ramirez and Hansen stepped forward. They were both frowning with their hands firmly planted on their hips. My stomach sank. Now what?

Chapter 8

Even before they started to speak, I put my hand up. “It’s not my fault I got mugged. It’s your town.”

Ramirez and Hansen looked at each other, then back to me.

Tom leaned over and said, “They didn’t know about the purse-snatching, honey. Of course, now they do. They’re here for something else.”

Detective Hansen stepped forward. “Someone took your purse?”

“Yes,” Tom told him. “Someone grabbed her purse while she waited in front of the restaurant.”

“I chased the kid who took it. A couple of bicycle officers caught him,” I explained.

“You got your purse back?” Hansen asked.

“No, the kid threw it to someone in a boat. The boat sped away.”

“I’ve never heard of that before,” Hansen said to Ramirez, “have you?”

“Nope.” Ramirez shook his head, then pointed at Tom, “And where were you when all this took place?”

Tom frowned. “I was in the restaurant putting our name down so we could get a table.”

Ramirez chuckled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t leave this little lady alone for a minute. She’s trouble waiting to happen.”

Tom stepped toward him. An altercation was imminent. I’d seen the stern and determined look on Tom’s face before. I stepped between the two men.

“Are you tailing us?” Tom took another step toward Ramirez.

“No,” Ramirez scoffed, advancing.

“How’d you find us?” Tom’s tone matched his demeanor, agitated and on the verge of exploding.

Ramirez didn’t back down. He matched Tom’s tone. “All I had to do was call the parking lots in the area. I knew you’d be in one of them. Of course, I’m surprised you used the valet service. The Sheriff of Gainesville must make better money than us lowly Long Beach cops.”

Tom moved in. I was being squished. I pushed the men away from each other. “So, it’s nice to see you so soon, Officer Ramirez. What can we do for you?” I said, trying to ease the tension.

Officer Hansen stepped up beside me, between his partner and Tom. “We have this warrant,” he said, holding up a paper.

Tom snatched it from his hand. “A warrant for what?” He stepped away to read it.

“To search your hotel room,” Ramirez said.

“Well, that’s rude,” I said. “We didn’t do anything. Why would you want to search our room?”

“You’re an un-cooperative material witness to a homicide.” Ramirez glared, his eyes just narrow slits. “This is my town and I can search anywhere I want.”

Tom flung the warrant at him, “So why are you here? Go, search the room, and stop bothering us. You’re not going to find anything, anyway.”

Okay, that wasn’t exactly the truth. He’d find all my photos and certainly take them all. Then he’d wonder why I had them and ask more questions and make me answer them, too.

Hansen said, “We already tried to search your room.”

“What do you mean, tried?” I asked.

Tom ignored my comment, “Then why the hell are you here bothering us?”

“It’s just that you’ve been in town, how long?” Hansen asked.

“Four or five hours,” I answered, “Why?”

“You don’t seem like people who would throw their clothes and things all over the hotel room.”

“What?” Tom and I said in unison.

“Yeah, it looks like someone trashed your room between the time you left for dinner and when we got there to search it.”

“There’s something going on that you’re not telling me,” Ramirez said, “and you’re not getting on the cruise ship until I know what it is!”

Tom grabbed my arm. “Let’s get back to our room. I want to see what they’re talking about.”

“We’ll follow you,” Hansen said.

We got our car from the valet and drove back to the inn, Ramirez and Hansen following in their unmarked police car. To me that always seemed like an oxymoron. How could it really be unmarked if everyone could tell it was a police vehicle? After all, it had those lights by both side mirrors that you can focus on people and a row of blue lights in the back window.

Tom parked in the lot and we walked toward our room, Hansen and Ramirez following us. It was like having Shelby herding me. Now I knew how little David felt and I didn’t like it one bit.

Tom opened the door.

“Oh my!” I put my hand over my mouth. Tom’s clothes were spewed everywhere. The couch cushions had been lifted and tossed to the side.

I started into the room, but Tom stopped me. “Did you dust for prints or anything?”

“Nope, it doesn’t do any good in these hotels,” Hansen said. “We’d get a million prints all layered over each other. Is anything missing?”

“I don’t know yet,” Tom said.

“Did you have another piece in here?” Ramirez asked.

“Piece?” I asked.

“Gun,” Tom said, scanning the room. “No, I left my Glock locked up at home.”

Ramirez nodded and said, “The first thing I’d check is for your passports. We’ve had some people breaking into hotel rooms and stealing them.”

Tom nodded.

They seemed to be getting along a little better. Anything would be an improvement over the looming fist-fight from a few minutes ago.

I didn’t say anything, but the first thing I did notice was that my pictures were gone - every single one.

“I’ll check the bedroom,” I told them.

“I’ll go with you,” Detective Hansen said.

We went into the bedroom. It was in total disarray, too, with the bed sheets and comforter pulled off.

Hansen raised his eyebrows. I’m sure he had noticed the twin beds, but he didn’t make a comment.

“What about your passport or was it in your purse?” he asked.

“It’s in my small suitcase.”

“The one smashed over there?” he pointed to a corner.

“Oh no!” I rushed over, opened the case and searched the inner pockets. I sighed and pulled out my passport, driver’s license, and credit card. “No, they’re all here.”

“Now that’s interesting. What else did you have in here worth stealing?”

“Nothing I know of,” I said.

“I’d have thought they would have at least taken your credit card. That would have been easy to use or sell.”

“Maybe they didn’t see it. It was tucked inside my passport.”

“Maybe,” he said, but he looked skeptical.

“Let’s go see if Tom’s found his passport.”

In the living room, Tom threw his clothes back into his suitcase. He cussed under his breath and Ramirez grinned.

“Did you find your passport, Tom?” I asked.

“Yes,” he held it up. “It was still in my suitcase’s side pocket.

“Anything missing from the bedroom?” Ramirez said.

“No,” I shook my head. “It’s just the same mess that’s in here.”

“They left her credit card,” Hansen told Ramirez.

When Ramirez and Tom looked at me, both raised just one eyebrow. It
struck
me like the punch line of a great joke. Maybe it was a response to the tension that had been building since I’d found Betsy’s body, then the purse snatching and now this. I started giggling.

“Liza?” Tom said.

“Miss Wilcox?” Ramirez said.

Hansen, who was standing next to me, chuckled. He’d seen the eyebrow thing, too.

When Ramirez and Tom frowned together, Hansen and I laughed out loud. It felt good to laugh after all the negative emotions I’d been feeling in the last few days.

“What the hell!” Ramirez barked.

Hansen put his hand up. “Nothing, Jack. Let’s let these people clean up this mess. Nothing is missing.” He handed me a card. “If you find something is gone, call me.”

I nodded and put the card into my sweater pocket.

The two detectives left.

Tom scowled at me, “What the hell were you and Hansen laughing about?”

I thought about where Hansen and I had been before we started laughing. Did Tom think it had something to do with the twin beds? “It’s the eyebrow thing.”

“What eyebrow thing?”

“You know how you can raise just one eyebrow?”

He raised his right eyebrow.

I started laughing again.

“Okay, that’s never been funny before.”

“No, it’s just that you raised the right one and Ramirez raised the left one. It was like looking at two book ends. Then you frowned in unison. It was hilarious.”

Tom scowled. “It doesn’t seem funny to me.”

“You weren’t standing over there with Hansen and me.”

“Your pictures are gone.” He nodded toward the coffee table.

“I noticed that right away. Why would anyone want my pictures?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “But that’s not the part bothering me.”

“What is?”

“They should have taken our passports or credit cards, those they could sell. The fact that they didn’t worries me.”

“Why?”

“Because it means they were looking for something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe it was kids looking for money and they took the photos out of spite,” I suggested.

“That’s possible. But we didn’t have any money in here, so it’s hard to say if they would or wouldn’t have taken it,” his frown deepened. “I’m thinking that maybe we shouldn’t go on this cruise, Liza.”

“No, I want to go.” I walked over to him. “This is all happening in Long Beach. Once we’re out of here, it will be over.”

“I’m not so sure and I hope this isn’t an omen.” He shook his head. “With the way our luck is going - the ship’s probably going to be taken over by terrorists!”

It took us quite a while to clean up both rooms. Tom did a lot of cussing, and I smiled, nodded, and did my best to ignore him. In the end, the only things missing were my photos and my small suitcase was crushed beyond saving.

“I have an idea,” I told Tom as we were resting on the couch, our feet on the coffee table, and my head on his shoulder.

He turned and stroked the side of my face. “Me, too.”

“Not that.”

His face drooped.

“Later, okay?” I winked.

His smile returned.

“Let’s go out and find a twenty-four hour drugstore, so I can buy another small suitcase. There are certain things I don’t want to go with our big suitcases. According to the website, they take them away from you at the port and you might not see them again until late.”

“Good idea.” He nodded and stood. “Not as good as my idea though.”

He reached out his hand and pulled me to my feet. I wrapped my arms around him. “I like your idea, too. It’s just that if we do yours first, nothing will be open to do mine.”

“Practical, very practical, Liza.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

He leaned down and kissed me. It was slow and gentle. Warmth spread through my body just like it had the first time he’d kissed me. Damn, he was a great kisser! I leaned in and he slid his hands under my tank top and around to my back. He pulled me closer.

Who cares about the stupid suitcase? I can put my stuff in the plastic bag the inn provided for laundry. Right?

He stepped back.

“Never mind,” I said. “I don’t need the suitcase.”

He smiled, but then shook his head. “No, you’re right. We need it.”

“Then why did you kiss me? You know it makes my insides go all warm and tingly.”

He chuckled. “I just want to make sure we only make one stop. I know you. We’ll get to the store and you’ll want to wander around. Then you’ll see a restaurant and decide you really didn’t have enough dessert at Chili’s and you’ll want to stop and get some. It will be hours before we get back here and then it will be late. We’ll both be tired and I’ll fall asleep as soon as we lie down.”

Sometimes I hate that the man knows me so well. “Of course, if I do wander around the store, I might pick up the latest
Cosmopolitan
. Then I’d be able to improve on your idea.”

His eyes widened.

Sometimes I even surprise myself.