Wish Upon a Christmas Star (15 page)

“The same Alex Suarez who hired Kayla Fryburger?” Maria
asked.

“Yes.” Alex’s teeth flashed. He oozed charm and a certain Latin
mystique even though Maria didn’t detect an accent. No wonder Kayla was taken
with him. “How do you know about that?”

“She’s consulting with me on the case,” Maria replied. “I’m
Maria DiMarco and this is Logan Collier.”

Alex shook hands with them in turn, then directed his attention
to Logan. “I heard that you tried the pork sandwich. Our chef is experimenting
with a new marinade. What did you think?”

“Delicious,” Logan said.

“Muy bien.”
Alex smiled at Logan.
He was an equal-opportunity charmer, Maria thought. He nodded at a vacant chair
at their table. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all.” Maria had been about to propose it herself.

“I’ll answer whatever questions you have, but I doubt I’ll be
much help,” he said. “I’ve already told Kayla everything I know.”

“We’re not here about the Santa Claus statue,” Maria said,
surprised by his assumption. “I’m in Key West looking for my brother.” She
produced the age progression and handed it to Alex. “I think he was in your
restaurant last week. Do you recognize him?”

He lifted his eyes from the likeness. “This isn’t an actual
photo of him, is it?”

“He’s been missing for eleven years,” Maria said. “This is what
we think he may look like today.”

“If he’s alive,” Logan added. The caveat shouldn’t have irked
Maria, but it did.

“Do you recognize him?” Maria asked Alex.

He studied the paper once more, then handed it back to her.
“Can’t say that I do, but we get a lot of traffic. I can’t get around to talk to
everybody who comes in.”

“Mike has a tattoo of a serpent on his left forearm,” Maria
said.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “That doesn’t ring any bells.”

“He was here last Tuesday right around noon.” Maria decided to
try a shot in the dark. “Maybe you could pull the receipts from that day and I
could look at them?”

Alex shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. Besides, this
isn’t an expensive restaurant. Most people pay in cash.”

Maria swallowed the disappointment that seemed to have become
her constant companion. “You’re sure you don’t recognize him?”

“Like I said, a lot of people come through here.” He shrugged,
making the gesture seem elegant. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“Why don’t you give him your business card?” Logan suggested.
“That way, he can get in touch if he thinks of anything.”

“Yes, please.” Maria got one out and extended it to Alex. She
felt her phone vibrate but ignored the call. She’d check voice mail after she
finished the conversation.

Alex spent a few moments examining the card before pocketing
it. “How long have you been in the P.I. business?”

“Going on five years,” she said.

“Maria was a cop before that,” Logan said. “A good one.”

“Impressive,” Alex said. “You must be a great help to Kayla.
What exactly is your role in her case?”

“Like I said, I’m a consultant,” she said.

“So you’re the one who advised her to set up the surveillance
camera?”

“Yes, I am,” Maria said.

“Do you have any notion of how the case is going?” Alex asked.
“I’m due to send another email update to the merchants association.”

“Another?” Maria sucked in a breath. “You didn’t email the
group about the camera, did you?”

“I sure did,” he said. “Everyone is eager for an update.”

Maria frowned. She’d rather it wasn’t widespread knowledge that
there was a camera pointed at the statue. It probably never occured to Kayla
that Alex would spread the word.

“So what do you think?” Alex pressed. “Can I expect her to get
results?”

He didn’t sound as though he had much confidence in Kayla. “You
can expect her to make sure the prankster doesn’t bring more embarrassment to
your organization.”

“Yes,” he said, “but is she close to finding out who the
prankster is?”

“You should ask Kayla. It’s her case,” Maria said. “But I was
under the impression that catching the culprit wasn’t the main objective.”

“Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice.” Alex stood up and made a
sweeping gesture that encompassed the empty tables on the patio. The only
customers left were Maria and Logan. “As you can see, we’re getting ready to
close.”

It was a dismissal if Maria ever heard one.

They said their goodbyes and she and Logan joined the crowd on
the street. She waited until they’d walked half a block before asking, “What did
you think of Alex Suarez?”

“I thought he was a bit...practiced,” Logan said. “Yeah, that’s
the word. Practiced.”

“Blunt, too,” Maria said. In fact, Maria thought Kayla was
headed for heartbreak. Alex seemed like a man who had no compunction about going
after what he wanted. If he hadn’t made his interest in Kayla clear by now, he
wasn’t interested.

“Where to now?” Logan asked.

“I’m not sure.” Maria wished she had a strategy, but her mind
was blank. Her phone vibrated again. Whoever had called earlier had probably
left a voice mail that had just come through. She dug out her phone and checked
the number on the display. It was from a Key West exchange. “Let me see if this
is important.”

She called in and tried to listen to the message over the sound
of blood rushing in her ears. The quiet voice was familiar but it didn’t belong
to Mike. Only then did she realize how much she’d been hoping it was her
brother.

“It’s from Repeat,” she told Logan.

She listened carefully, taking mental notes, trying to bank her
excitement.

“Well?” Logan asked when she hung up.

“Repeat remembered something else he overheard the guy with the
serpent tattoo say,” she told him. “We’ve got somewhere to be tonight.”

* * *

T
OURISTS
FLOCKED
TO
THE
corner of South and Whitehurst Streets even though
neither of the claims printed on the concrete buoy were true. The concierge at
Logan’s hotel had told him that the buoy was ninety-four miles from Cuba, not
ninety. Neither did it mark the southernmost point in the continental U.S.A.
That distinction belonged to Ballast Key, a privately owned island southwest of
Key West.

None of that mattered to the throng of people gathered at the
tourist attraction to listen to an up-and-coming soul singer belt out some
Christmas tunes. Her stage name was Amaryllis. A Key West native, she’d recently
been signed to a major record deal after appearing on one of those televised
singing talent shows.

“I’m surprised at how many people are here.” Logan kept hold of
Maria’s arm, a necessity so they wouldn’t lose each other in the crush.
Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t let him touch her.

She’d reacted negatively to his suggestion that they try a
long-distance relationship, but he wasn’t ready to give up on the idea. He was
smart enough to bide his time, though.

“I’d never heard of Amaryllis until Repeat mentioned he’d
overheard the guy with the serpent tattoo say he wanted to see her sing.” Maria
spoke close to Logan’s ear so he could pick up what she was saying. “Supposedly
there’s been a rumor floating around for weeks that she was planning a free
concert.”

Half the people on the island must have heard about it. Maria
and Logan had walked the few blocks from their hotels to the Southernmost
Point—a good thing, for they’d never have found a parking spot. Maria had gotten
rid of her rental car, anyway, since most places on the island were accessible
by foot.

“People turn out when something’s free,” Logan said.

Amaryllis was already showing off her impressive set of lungs
with a soulful rendition of “Silver Bells.” The arrangement was unaccompanied,
her strong, clear voice the only instrument that was necessary.

“Her tone is amazing,” Maria said. “She’s gorgeous, too.”

The tall, willowy singer had beautiful mocha skin and hair cut
daringly short. She wore a flirty red dress and pranced around on stiletto heels
between the concrete buoy and a Christmas tree. A spotlight shone on her, but
elsewhere the lighting was poor.

Logan craned his neck to get a better view of the people in the
crowd but mostly saw the backs of heads. “It’s too dark and crowded to see
whether Mike’s here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re willing to concede he might be?” Maria
sounded skeptical.

“I’m trying to keep at open mind,” Logan said. It wasn’t easy.
Signs might point to Mike being alive, but Logan still had serious doubts.
“Things aren’t adding up, though.”

“What things?”

“The blackmail note, for one,” Logan said. “If the
blackmailer’s serious about making Caroline Webb pay, why hasn’t he made a
ransom demand?”

“Just because he hasn’t made a demand doesn’t mean he won’t.
Now how should we go about this?” Maria surveyed the crowd, her change of
subject signaling that the original topic was closed. Logan thought it warranted
further discussion, but they were already getting dirty looks for talking while
Amaryllis sang.

He bent down so his mouth was close to Maria’s ear again. “It’d
be hard to find someone in this throng even if you knew for certain he was
here.”

She turned her head to answer him and her mouth brushed his
cheek. Her eyes flew to his, awareness in their depths.
That’s why we should give a long-distance relationship a shot,
he
wanted to say.

“We have to try.” She checked her cell phone. “It’s
eight-thirty. Let’s meet back at this spot at nine o’clock. I’ll take the right
side and you get the left.”

She took off without waiting for a response. Just as well.
Logan might have asked if she had any night-vision goggles handy. Doubtless she
wouldn’t appreciate that.

He circled behind the audience, searching for men near his own
height, as Mike had been on the morning of the terrorist strike. But then Mike
had been only eighteen, an age when a lot of boys had more growing to do. Had he
lived, Mike might be well over six feet.

The task was all but impossible. The spectators fanned out from
the singer, with people standing shoulder to shoulder. Amaryllis had such a
powerful voice that even the angels on high might hear her singing.

Logan caught a clear view of her through a break in the crowd.
The night was mild, but this close to the ocean there always seemed to be a
breeze. Amaryllis raised her arms, and a gust of wind plastered the material of
the red dress against her shapely body.

Somebody was taking photographs. It was James Smith, the
Key West Sun
photographer. Logan and Maria had
introduced themselves to him that morning in the parking lot when they were
leaving the newspaper. It hadn’t been difficult to figure out James was the
photographer Kayla was meeting. Then, like now, he was toting photography
equipment.

He was starting to pack up. Logan didn’t blame him. The
photographer wouldn’t get a better shot than the one of the singer with her arms
uplifted and her dress hugging her curves.

Logan started walking toward James, intending to ask if he’d
had a chance to show the age progression to his coworkers.

Their paths were about to intersect when James stopped and with
a half hug greeted a tall, dark-haired man. Something about the way the guy
carried himself seemed familiar. Logan squinted, making out the long,
distinctive nose of Alex Suarez. He was with a woman, a busty brunette with an
hourglass figure. Alex had his hand on the small of her back, and he laughed at
something she said to James.

The photographer slapped Alex on the arm, nodded at the woman
and continued on his original path. Logan intercepted him.

“Hey, James,” he said. “It’s Logan Collier.”

“From this morning in the parking lot,” James said, nodding. He
shifted the photography equipment on his shoulder. “I remember you. What can I
do for you?”

“I wondered if you got a chance to show any of your coworkers
that image of Maria’s brother,” Logan said.

“Yeah, I did show it around. Nobody knew him. Sorry, man.”

“Thanks for checking.” Logan refrained from telling him the
results didn’t surprise him. “I’ll pass the information on to Maria.”

“Sure thing.” James raised a hand. “See you around.”

Logan verified on his cell phone that it was nearly nine
o’clock and went to meet Maria. He could tell by her expression that she hadn’t
made any progress on the case. He shook his head to let her know he hadn’t,
either.

“Let’s stay until the end of the concert,” she suggested.
“People are packed pretty tight. We might spot something when they start
leaving.”

Amaryllis had been singing for a good forty-five minutes. Logan
didn’t imagine the impromptu event would last much longer, especially because
the wind was picking up. The singer no longer lifted her arms. They were down at
her sides, holding on to her skirt. Fifteen minutes later, the concert was
over.

Maria and Logan stood their ground as people streamed toward
them and around them. Logan dutifully kept an eye out for Mike but also watched
Maria in his peripheral vision. He heard her gasp over the ambient crowd
noise.

“Mike,” she said. Without another word, she gave chase after a
man about the right height and weight, who was headed away from them. Logan
followed.

She caught up to the guy in a few running steps and grabbed him
by the arm. He spun around, his stance aggressive. Just as quickly, he relaxed.
Maria staggered backward. Logan was still a few yards away, but he could tell
from her body language that the man wasn’t Mike.

Logan lengthened his stride to eat up the ground between them.
With a broad forehead and thick features, the man looked nothing like her
brother. He was also about ten years older than Mike would have been.