Swept Away: A Squeaky Clean Honeymoon Novella (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 12) (5 page)

“I usually don’t have time to sit and do nothing.” I resisted the urge to touch my skin again and wallow in the pain I’d caused myself. “I haven’t spent that much time on the beach since I was a teenager.”

He stared at my back and frowned. “I hope it doesn’t blister.”

Wasn’t this just great? A sunburn on my honeymoon. That might put a damper on things.

“Look, how about this?” Riley started to rest his hands on my shoulders but stopped himself. “I’ll run to get some aloe and pick up something to eat. We can stay in tonight and watch a movie or something. Maybe by tomorrow your skin will feel better.”

I nodded, knowing he was being kindly optimistic. “Sounds good. I’ll get cleaned up while you’re gone.”

After he left, I washed off all the sand. Even the cool water hitting my skin made fire shoot through me. Toweling off had been excruciating. Staying naked seemed preferable to getting dressed, but I wasn’t the type. What had I been thinking?

I knew exactly what had happened: I’d gotten distracted with thoughts of the mystery playing out around me and had neglected my poor skin and all my sensibilities.

By the time I carefully put on some sweatpants and one of Riley’s T-shirts—one of my most unattractive outfits and not what I’d planned on wearing for my honeymoon—Riley was back. He’d brought some soup and salads from a nearby deli.

We sat down in front of the TV to eat, and I hoped this wasn’t a glimpse into our future. When we turned it on,
Looking for Love
played out across the screen. I hated to admit it, but my heart raced when I realized what it was.

“I didn’t think they aired reality shows until they were finished filming the whole season,” I muttered.

“
Looking for Love
is a little different in that everything airs a week after it’s filmed. It cuts down on the amount of editing that takes place,” Riley said before eating a spoonful of his seafood chowder.

I wasn’t sure how he knew that, but maybe it was common knowledge and I was clueless.

“I can’t believe they’re airing this after everything that’s happened . . .” It seemed so insensitive. Despite that, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen.

The opening episode had the cast meeting Ricky for the first time at a fancy mansion in LA. Just as I’d thought, Ricky came across as the guy every woman wanted. He was handsome and charming and said all the right things to make the ladies swoon.

He wasn’t the settling down type. That was plain for anyone to see. It didn’t matter how many times he said otherwise on the screen. I knew because I’d met his type before. I’d dated his type before, for that matter.

When Vivian came on the screen, my heart jerked into my throat. She was just as beautiful as I’d imagined, with classic good looks. I watched carefully, noting how she was demure and sweet around Ricky. As soon as she was around only the women, however, she became aloof and snotty.

“Maybe Joey was telling the truth,” Riley said.

“Or it could all be in the editing.” I tried to eat my soup, but I was too hot. I decided to pick at my salad instead.

“True.”

The camera panned to Joey, who stood in the background at the meet and greet, giving an ice-cold glare to Vivian. It was more than that, though. Joey seemed nervous. Her gaze skittered around when she was alone. As soon as someone talked to her, she turned into the girl-next-door whom Riley and I had met.

Interesting.

When the show cut from the screen, Wally came on to tell viewers about what happened to Vivian. He urged anyone with any information to call a number on the screen. They were also offering a reward for anyone who knew anything. At least the show had the decency to do that.

“Can you imagine if our dating life had been aired for everyone to see?” Riley asked, putting his empty bowl on the coffee table.

“That would have been horrible. We would have never survived. Love is hard enough without an audience critiquing every word, action, and possible ulterior motive.”

“It’s true. Some things should just be private. Add to that the way these people are edited—they become more of a character than a person. They fall in love in the most extraordinary of circumstances, a reality that real life can never replicate.”

Our dating story hadn’t been smooth, and it had been filled with many ups and downs. But the downtimes had taught us the most about each other’s characters.

“You have to learn how to love when the going gets tough,” I said. “It’s easy to love in the good, extravagant times.”

“I agree.”

I leaned forward and kissed his lips.

He reached to pull me closer, but when his hands hit my back, I nearly jumped off the couch as fire spread across my skin.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “But I may have single-handedly ruined our honeymoon.”

Or my preoccupation with the case had, at least. Which still meant that I’d ruined it.

When would I ever learn?

* * *

T
he next morning
, the doorbell awoke us.

I buried my head under the pillow and immediately gasped as it hit my shoulders. Sunburns stunk. Sunburns on honeymoons stunk. People showing up at the house whenever they wanted stunk.

Riley groaned beside me. “This place is Grand Central Station. Why can’t people leave us alone?”

“Tell me about it.”

A few minutes later, we scurried downstairs and pulled the front door open. Old Yeller stood there.

“Can we help you?” Riley said.

Chief Yeller looked serious—there were no smiles or friendly greetings to be seen, nor was he touching his hair and face nervously. He did blanch when he saw me, however. Must have been my raccoon eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, can I come inside a moment?” he started.

Riley glanced at me before pulling the door all the way open and stepping back. The lines on his face looked tight and drawn, like he was anticipating the worst. “Sure.”

Old Yeller stepped inside and held up a paper. “I have a warrant to search the premises.”

“On what grounds?” Riley asked, snatching the paper from his hands.

“We have evidence connecting this property with the missing woman.”

“What . . . ?” I gasped. I hadn’t seen that one coming.

“Do you mind?” Yeller nodded behind us.

“Be our guest,” Riley swept a hand to the side as an invitation to the police officers who approached.

We moved aside as three other cops also came inside.

“What do you think is going on?” I whispered as the men began opening doors and drawers and looking behind everything possible.

“I have no idea.” Riley’s gaze remained on the officers.

He looked worried, I realized. There must be some pretty strong evidence for the police to get a warrant to search the property. I couldn’t imagine what that might be.

A few minutes later, Yeller came back downstairs, holding an evidence bag with something inside. “You ever seen this before?”

I looked more closely. It was a black sandal.

“I’ve never seen it,” Riley said, before turning toward me. “Is it yours?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not.”

Yeller studied us both with a dogged gaze. “Well, it was in the guest bedroom upstairs.”

I still didn’t see what the big deal was. “Maybe it belongs to the house’s owner, Mr. Murphy. He and his wife kept some of their personal belongings here at the house.”

Yeller narrowed his gaze. “This belongs to Vivian.”

My eyes widened. Yet another one I hadn’t seen coming. “Vivian hasn’t been here. Not that I know of, at least. I don’t see how that would even be possible. Riley and I have been here almost the whole time.”

He lowered his head, almost like he was trying too hard to look tough. “Are you sure about that?”

I nodded, not liking where all of this was going. “Positive.”

“I also noticed you have a gun,” Yeller continued. “It was in the nightstand in the master bedroom.”

“I have a concealed carry permit from Virginia,” I told him. “Florida is a reciprocal state—I checked before I left. The permit is in my purse, and I can get it for you if you’d like.”

“I would like that.”

“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Riley asked.

His eyes glimmered as he observed us in a moment of contemplation. “We found the boat used in Vivian McDonald’s abduction. It was abandoned up near Caladesi Island.”

My heart quickened. “Where’s that?”

“Not far from Clearwater and Honeymoon Island State Park.”

I wasn’t exactly certain where those places were from here, but I assumed they were fairly close. “That’s good news, right?”

“She wasn’t on board. One of her shoes was.” He held up the black sandal he’d found upstairs. “It matches this one.”

My quickening heartbeat traveled all the way up to my ears, thumping with a deafening beat.

“You’re saying that one of Vivian’s shoes was found on the boat and the other in the house? In
this
house?” Riley asked. He sounded as confused as I felt.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Yeller said. “I’m also saying that the owner of the boat where the shoe was found is also the owner of this house. Would you know anything about that?” He stared at both of us, watching our reactions.

“Absolutely not.” Riley’s voice took on a lawyerish tone. “We weren’t aware Mr. Murphy had a boat, and, even if he did, we weren’t entitled to use it.”

“I’m going to need to give the house’s owner a call to verify that,” Yeller said.

“Of course. Go right ahead.” Riley spouted off his number.

Yeller dialed his number and, a few seconds later, began muttering in the phone. The conversation was indiscernible from our end, however, filled with lots of grunts and is-that-rights. Anticipation mounted across my back every time Yeller glanced back at us.

When Yeller hung up, he turned toward us. “Mr. Murphy doesn’t know anything about anyone staying here. Now, would you care to explain yourself? Or I’d be happy to take you down to the station.”

“
T
his is a misunderstanding
,” Riley said. “Let me talk to him.”

“I repeat: he knew nothing about you staying here.” Yeller leveled his gaze with us, probably trying to look scary.

“That’s ridiculous.” Riley’s hands flew in the air in an unusual display of frustration. “He gave me the key himself.”

“That’s not what he said,” Yeller countered.

“Seriously, please let me call him,” Riley said. “I’m not sure what just happened, but something is wrong. We have permission to stay here.”

“We wouldn’t be here otherwise,” I quipped, feeling like I needed to say something. No way were we taking the fall for this fiasco.

Riley pulled out his phone and quickly dialed. An echo of the earlier conversation happened again: lots of grunts and indiscernible talking. Finally, he hung up and turned to us.

“You didn’t talk to Mr. Murphy. You talked to his assistant Mr.
Mercy
.”

Yeller didn’t say anything for a moment. “I dialed the number you gave me.”

“Did you even ask who you were speaking with? Mr. Murphy has a paralegal who is taking all of his calls while Mr. Murphy is at a wedding in India.”

Yeller blinked. “I’ll need to verify that.”

“Please do.”

Yeller dialed the number on his phone, and a moment later he confirmed what Riley had said. He hung his hands on his belt and frowned. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“Now, do you believe us when we say we have no idea what happened to the boat?” Riley said. “I don’t even know where it was docked.”

“Down at the local marina,” Yeller said.

“I don’t have the key to operate the boat.” Riley crossed his arms, definitely annoyed.

“We found one on the dresser upstairs. In the bedroom where the shoe was found.”

I shook my head as I thought it all through. “Joey ran to our house right after Vivian was abducted. We couldn’t have been in the boat and made it back here to meet Joey, if we were the ones in the boat.”

“Now that I might believe. But that still doesn’t explain how the shoe ended up here.”

“Did you forget that someone broke into our house yesterday?” Riley reminded him.

Yeller scratched his eyebrow. “That’s true.”

“Whoever broke in must have planted that shoe, hoping we’d look guilty,” I muttered, not liking the conclusions I drew.

“Why would someone do that?” Yeller asked, doing the head-scratching thing again.

“To take suspicion off themselves, of course!” I nearly threw my hands in the air. I wasn’t one who thought small town cops couldn’t cut it. Not at all. But this guy needed some help.

“Interesting theory.”

I fought a sigh. “Is there any sign of Vivian? That’s the important thing.”

His shoulders drooped. He knew he was in over his head, didn’t he? “No, not yet.”

“I left a voicemail for Mr. Murphy,” Riley said. “He’s supposed to call me back when he gets the message, but, like I said, he’s in India. I want to ask him who else had access to his boat.”

“Smart idea,” Yeller said. “Because I’m not leaving here until I know something.”

* * *

M
r. Murphy called back
an hour later and confirmed we were allowed to stay here. He also said that he’d let several people use the house over the years, but no one else should have a key or permission to use his boat. He did mention that he had a son with drug problems, who occasionally turned up here.

He’d apologized profusely for the trouble.

But that still didn’t explain why someone had left the shoe here. I mean, obviously they wanted to make us look guilty. But why target Riley and me? Why leave one shoe?

Unless they had to leave the other shoe on the boat so the chief would connect the dots.

That would be pretty calculated, which these guys very well could be. After all, they had somehow managed to snag a woman off the beach when she wasn’t supposed to be there.

And then there were the bigger questions like: Where was Vivian? Why had she been taken? And who was behind it?

After everything that happened this morning, Riley and I decided to go into town for lunch at Erma’s. When we got there, all the locals were talking about the boat. Apparently, they’d heard about what happened with Mr. Murphy’s watercraft before the police even finished questioning us at the house.

Small town dynamics were something I wasn’t used to.

A few of the restaurant’s regulars sent guilty looks back at Riley and me, like they knew who we were but didn’t really care that they were talking about us. That was just as well.

“Do you think someone is trying to set us up?” Riley whispered.

“That’s what it looks like. Why else would he have left that shoe?” I’d been thinking about it since it happened.

“I just don’t understand why. Why target us?”

I shook my head. “At this point, I have no idea.”

Riley stared out the window. The boardwalk out front was considerably busier today than it was yesterday morning. Numerous people walked about, shooting the breeze or eating ice cream or carrying fishing poles.

This really was such a lovely place. It was too bad our stay here had been marred by Vivian’s abduction,
Looking for Love
, and Yeller’s accusations. The locale had so much potential for relaxation.

Suddenly, Riley sat straight up, his gaze fixated outside. “Gabby, do you see that?”

I straightened also, anticipation buzzing through me. “See what?”

“Him.” He nodded to someone in the distance.

I tried unsuccessfully to follow his gaze. I saw a lot of people, but no one who stood out as someone to watch. “Who?”

Riley’s gaze was latched out the window still, and his body language screamed, “alert.” “Vince Daley.”

I still wasn’t following this, which annoyed me because I hated feeling confused. “Who is Vince Daley?”

I figured the guy he was talking about had to be the younger-looking man with light-brown hair who was headed toward the marina. He was the only person who stood out among the crowd. Something about the way he moved made him look shady, like he was up to something.

“Vince Daley was on
Looking for Love
last season.”

Now Riley had my full attention. I mean, he’d had it before. But now he
really
had it.

“That guy out there was on last season?” I echoed, making sure I understood this correctly.

“He was the runner-up, but he wasn’t chosen by Katrina at the end.” Riley cleared his throat, and his cheeks reddened slightly. “That’s what I’ve heard, at least.”

My curiosity was fully aroused now. “What else did you hear?”

Riley continued staring outside, his every muscle looking like he was prepared to jump into action. “Everyone expected him to be the next Mr. Eligible, but Ricky was chosen instead. Rumor has it that Vince was really angry about it.”

How did Riley know these details? This had to go beyond the normal scuttlebutt that people heard on the tube about various TV shows.

There was something my husband wasn’t telling me. Was he secretly a fan of
Looking for Love
?

I stared at him until he cringed.

“What?” Riley shrugged, looking a little too innocent.

“How do you know all of that?” I tilted my head as I began my mini cross-examination.

He cringed again and raised his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I just . . . heard about it when I left the TV on once.”

I nodded slowly, unconvinced. “Is that right?”

“Of course. You don’t think I watch
Looking for Love
, do you?” He laughed a little too loudly.

I knew him well enough to know there was something he wasn’t telling me. “You seem to know an awful lot about the show.”

He looked out the window again. “That’s not important right now. What’s important is the fact that Vince is in town. Why would he be here?”

I cast aside my interrogation, knowing I’d pick it up again later. Riley was right—we had other more important matters to focus on. “Maybe the show invited him out for one of those ambush episodes. I’ve heard they like the shock factor. And, in full disclosure, I have watched two whole episodes before.”

He ignored my comment. “You’re right—his presence here could be a stunt of some sort. But he’s heading toward the marina, and I don’t see any camera crews following him. In fact, he’s kind of looking around, like he doesn’t want to be spotted.”

Our gazes connected.

“Should we follow him?” I asked.

“I think that’s a good idea. Especially since someone is trying to make us look guilty. It couldn’t hurt to clear our names before this really does become a nightmare honeymoon.”

“Let’s go.”

We both stood, and, as I passed the waitress, I told her we’d be right back for our food, which we’d take to go.

We stepped outside into the humid air and took off toward the marina. As soon as our feet hit the wooden planks there, Vince hopped into a boat and the driver took off.

“He’s going to get away,” Riley muttered.

We picked up our pace, trying to reach him in time, but it was too late. They pulled out into the water, waves flying behind them.

Vince looked over his shoulder at us as he cruised farther from the shore.

I couldn’t see him well enough to know if he was smirking. But my suspicions were that that was exactly what he was doing.