Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) (9 page)

He shined his flashlight on it, dipped his finger in the blood-red gunk, and waved it under his nose. "It's paint, all right."

"What? Are you sure?" I knelt next to him and sniffed now that it was away from the rotting leftovers.

I felt so foolish.

The officer dropped a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I can see where you'd think something was up by the smell of that trash, the same kind of plastic, and what you've been through with the stiff in your wall. I do need to ask you to leave the investigative work to us though."

I looked up into his thoughtful face. "But I just…"

The thoughtfulness of his expression tilted a bit more toward the stern spectrum.

"Yes, sir."

A phone call from the Danger Cove Police Department wasn't exactly how I'd wanted to cap off my morning. I sighed into the phone. "I promised I'd call, Detective Marshall. I haven't heard anything from my parents."

Sitting at the front desk, I idly doodled a stick figure with big boobs, big black eyes, and horns on her head on the message pad, coloring the body with a pink highlighter. It was a striking resemblance to the neighbor lady, if I did say so myself.

"Well, I thought you should know that the man found in your wall was indeed the same guy the Kochs had hired, but they have a very solid alibi. We are focusing our efforts, as of now, on the Mafia angle with Mr. James and possibly Mr. O'Connell."

I heaved another sigh, this one in relief.

"That doesn't mean your parents aren't still needed for questioning. This just means they aren't at the top of the list of suspects. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh," he snickered. "By the way, while it might not be the most tasteful thing in the world to paint your living room blood red, it isn't illegal. I just wanted to be clear."

He found himself pretty funny.

I didn't.

"Thank you for calling." I slammed the phone down, which was actually quite gratifying. Angrily swiping off a cell phone just didn't have the same oomph to it.

I decided to refocus my angry energy on something positive, like the fact that they weren't concentrating on Mom and Dad as public enemies number one and two.

I walked out onto the front porch. Sitting on the swing, I rocked my foot back and forth, swaying gently as I pondered the differences between LA and Danger Cove. Here, birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and there was only a slight nip to the late-morning air. This was definitely a far cry from the hot, crowded streets, smoggy skies, and angry drivers where the seasons didn't really change much, if at all. If Cris had been able to afford a place closer to the beach, it would've been nicer than the high-rise complex with a view of another high-rise complex we'd been living in, but much more crowded and nothing like the scene I was enjoying now.

Mal passed by, riding one of his large mowers, waving and smiling as he rambled by, making a swipe through the lawn amid the landscaping beds. I felt a twinge of guilt that the police were focusing on him, which was even worse when I thought about him being stuck in Danger Cove, though I wasn't sure why. It's not like I'd wedged the body in the closet wall. But I was fairly certain he hadn't put it there either.

"Well," I muttered to myself. "I can at least make his day a little easier and fix him some lunch." Surely I wouldn't burn the kitchen down making a few sandwiches.

As I was wandering through the lobby, Cris bounded down the stairs two at a time, dressed in another neon workout set, this time in green. Her hair was in her usual perfectly curled cheerleader ponytail, obviously ready for a run. "Get changed. I'll race you to the beach again."

"As much as I'd love to…" Not really. "I'm going to make Mal some lunch as a peace offering. The guy is working himself to death today. Must be working off some anger. Better out there than on us though, I suppose."

A sweet smile curled her lips. "Are you going after my man, girlfriend? Or just feel a little guilty for inadvertently tossing him under the police bus?"

"Aren't you going out with my brother this weekend?" I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly.

Her smile broadened. "I knew you liked Mal."

"No, that's not what…" I huffed a few quick breaths, confusion gripping me as I scrambled to make my point. "I don't like him." I waved a hand between us. "I mean, I like him, but I don't necessarily
like
him." I used air quotes on the second "like" in hopes to get my point across. The dopey grin still on her face said I hadn't. "I don't even know him, so it's definitely the second thing you said about the police bus."

"What's that saying about someone who protests too much?" Her mouth formed a tight
O
in a brief mock surprise before the grin returned. "Yeah, you're doing that."

I grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward the front door. "Run…away."

She sashayed a few steps, turning to look over her shoulder, the same delighted look in place. "I'll be back to finish this discussion."

I matched her smile and waved her off, going through the employee door as she disappeared through the front. I pondered making myself a key to one of the rooms, but ever the optimist, I held out hope that business would pick back up. Besides, the couch was surprisingly comfortable. After folding Dad's blanket and tidying up that area, I made my way into the kitchen and dug through the refrigerator. I pulled out a partial head of lettuce, a half tomato, some lunchmeat and cheese packages that would be finished off, and an almost-empty container of mayo.

"A few sandwiches for lunch and a shopping list for later."

I searched through canned goods, dishes, and an odds-and-ends cupboard before finding the tea bags. I tossed a few in a bowl of water and put them in the microwave for a few minutes while I set about putting together the sandwiches. I grabbed the white serving tray from under the sink and neatly arranged some napkins, two plates, and glasses. When the microwave dinged, I poured the tea over ice in a pitcher, and lunch was made. Spying a bag of cheese curls on top of the fridge, I pushed away the thought of hoarding them for myself and added those to the mix as I headed out the back door onto the cement patio. There was a nice wooden table and four chairs with a bright-yellow umbrella shading it from the sun. The backyard was enormous, especially compared to the neighbors'. I glanced between the properties, glad none of them had put up fences to block any of the breathtaking coastal scenery. It did lack privacy, but the trade-off was worth it, in my opinion. Past the patio was a large open grassy area before the spotted tree line that marked the drop-off area to the coastline. 

I popped my fingers into my mouth and whistled when Mal finally made a lap near enough to hear.

He turned the mower off, looking somewhat puzzled, and shrugged.

I waved him over with one hand, pointing to the food with the other. "Lunch!"

His confusion turned into a genuine smile, complete with a full set of dimples, as he dismounted his mower and meandered my way. As he climbed the two steps to the patio, he asked, "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Oh, you know, to show you how much I don't think you are a murderer and things like that. From what I've been told, they're looking into your old boss." I left off the part of him being included in the detective's phone call. Though, he did say
possibly
before he mentioned Mal. 

Laughing, he muttered, "Back at you. I guess I owe you an I-don't-think-you're-a-murderer meal sometime, then, in return."

My breath caught in my throat as a moment of panic-fueled giddiness shot through me from out of nowhere. Once I came to my senses and could finally speak, I tried to make light of it, swatting a hand toward him. "Well, once you're comfortable leaving Danger Cove, we'll have to make that happen."

He sat in the chair closest to me and raised a curious brow. "Naw, Gino's is a fabulous pizza place right here in town. There's also the Smugglers' Tavern, if you don't mind bar fare. Though last time I was there, I meant to have only a swallae but ended up a bit blootered."

I slowly slid into my chair and calmly busied myself setting out the food. Inside my brain, I was imagining what a real date with him would be like and trying to figure out what
blootered
meant. I was going with
drunk
. "Cheese curls?" I held out the half-empty bag. "They're pretty much a staple of mine."

He nodded as he bit off a huge chunk of sandwich, grabbing some with his free hand. Once he swallowed, he gulped at his tea. "Thanks for doing this. Perfect timing, too. I was just trying to figure out where I was going to get a bite. You're a doll."

I glanced over my shoulder, really hoping Cris was around to hear all of this, considering her
connection
and all. No luck. Mr. Lafollette, however, beckoned from his back patio, his pinky aloft as he did a regal, cupped-hand Miss America wave. I smiled and returned the gesture, though mine was a little less formal and just a plain old wave.

"So," Mal drew out as he kicked his feet up on the chair next to him and relaxed back against the one he sat in. "What exactly brought you to Danger Cove?"

Poverty. "I needed some time away from the LA scene." Yeah, that too. "It's just so hectic there. You definitely don't have a serene view like this down there unless you're loaded. The peace and quiet has been good for my soul. You know, minus the dead body thing."

He smiled, his head bobbing as he swallowed the food in his mouth. "Yeah, I think that's pretty much a given. I really hate that it fell on you." His mouth twisted into a grimace. "That had to have left quite an impression. You've been a real trooper not to flap on about it."

"Yeah, because troopers all over America cry like that."

He reached over and squeezed my hand for a second. "If that had been your friend, Cristal, she'd still be running away and screaming."

I bobbed my head and nibbled my bottom lip to keep from laughing at the mental image that produced.

He glanced out at the rolling ocean. "Any, uh, boyfriend that'll be joining you later or maybe waiting back in LA?"

"Well," I sighed, "I have an
ex
-boyfriend who had a hard time understanding what the term 'breaking up' meant. He kept showing up in the middle of the night after I knew damn well he'd just been out on a date with someone else. After a bit of gentle persuasion, which totally means screaming matches and me threatening to call the cops, I think he finally has the gist of it though."

Mal bobbed his head. "I know all about that. My ex still won't bugger off, even after all this time. I never know when she's going to pop up and fash-about her spoiled rotten crazy on me."

I leaned back in my chair, the sound of crashing waves and the warm midday sun lulling me into a relaxed state I hadn't felt in months. I nodded my head. "I guess that's why you had to get a restraining order, huh?" The words had no more than left my lips when panic surged through every cell in my body, jerking me from the brief visit to my happy place. I forgot I wasn't supposed to know about that. I sucked in a huge breath and held it, hoping he didn't hear me. I would've sold a kidney for a rewind button.

He popped to an upright position, scooting to the edge of his seat. "How do you know about that?" Confusion and betrayal marred his handsome features.

So much for the not-hearing-me thing. I sat up straight too, shaking my head, wanting to scurry off and crawl under a rock down by the water. "We, um… I'm so very sorry. It's just that you work…" I reached for his arm, but he yanked it away.

He shook his head vigorously. "I've never even mentioned this to your parents. Tell me how you found out."

I swiveled my head slowly from side to side, upping the ante to my soul for that rewind switch. "Well." Wracked with guilt, I stared at my hands to avoid seeing the hurt look on his face anymore. "We ran a background check on you."

He huffed out a huge sigh, dripping with disappointment. "How?"

I just stared at the table, unable to give up my brother's career to assuage Mal's curiosity or ease my guilt. Not that it would have necessarily accomplished the latter.

He stood, backing away from me.

I watched his feet shuffle toward the stairs, then rose and followed him, really wanting to grab his arm so he wouldn't leave, but I honestly didn't blame him. "In our defense, we thought you might be a killer," I pleaded with him, my lip quivering as I fought tears.

"So you completely violated my privacy?" His eyes were mere slits, his jaw set. 

"Sort of, I guess."

"No, that's not sort of. That's all of. I understand that we don't know each other very well, but I kind of thought you'd at least trust your parents not to hire a killer to renovate their place." He whirled around, stomping back to his mower.

I stood and watched him cut a strip down the side of the house so he could disappear into the front yard. The neighbor, Nick, startled me from behind after stealthily crossing the yards to join me. "Sorry the boy toy is causing problems. I feel your pain."

"He's not my boy toy." I flopped back onto my chair.

"Hmm." Nick cast Mal a sultry glance as he cut up the other side between our house and Nick's, not even acknowledging us. "More for the rest of us, then."

I wanted to tell him that I was pretty sure Mal didn't swing that way, but why crush the man's dreams? He seemed nice enough.

Nick sat the glass of lemonade he'd brought with him on the corner of the table and motioned at the chair next to me with a bob of his head and an arched brow.

I half-heartedly nodded toward it, really wishing I could be alone to lick my wounds but not wanting to be rude. "Sure."

After pulling a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and snapping it across the seat a few times, he finally perched on the very edge, undoubtedly to keep his unblemished, perfectly pressed khakis spotless.