Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) (11 page)

A lone jogger trotted past the slow moving duos and it brought to mind her running into Benny on the boardwalk. The way his mouth had screwed sideways at the sight of her in those gardener’s boots gave her a twinge of something even now. Was it anger? Humiliation? She shook it from her mind while sipping her wine.

“Scoping out the joint, Colombo?” Gigi asked.

Sarah turned her attention to her friend. “Ha ha. No. Just looking out at the walkers.”

“Isn’t that the kid Hannah used to date in high school?” Gigi pointed to the little storefront positioned several yards from where they sat.

Sarah craned her neck to get a good look. Indeed, it was Jeremy Hudson, carrying a large cardboard box into his little store. There were several other cartons stacked by the front door. “Business must be doing pretty well,” she mused. “His parents would be glad to know their little store is thriving. Nice people.”

“You know I’ve never been inside the place. What does he sell besides suntan lotion anyway?”

“All kinds of sundries, beach chairs and toys, stuff like that. It’s been a while since I’ve been inside The Beachcomber myself.” Sarah thought back to when Jeremy’s father’s arthritis had gotten so bad that his parents made the decision to move to Arizona. “His mother used to have a whole souvenir section with shore-themed merchandise. She dabbled in crafts, I think. Greeting cards, too. You know a typical variety store.”

“Who’s that?” Gigi asked motioning her head.

Sarah viewed a pretty young woman, tiny-framed but apparently agile as she hoisted a carton from the stack outside the shop’s door.

“No clue.”

Gigi cocked her head. “Maybe Moon Doggie’s got himself a new Gidget,” she said referring to the old nicknames she had given to Jeremy and Hannah back when they were young, inseparable, and often at the beach.

“Everybody deserves to be happy,” Sarah smiled. She had always liked Jeremy.

“Like Mickey and me.” Gigi’s face was bathed in anticipation of Sarah’s agreement coupled with an emphatic nod.

When it didn’t come, she sighed and checked her watch. “By the way, Sar, it’s five after nine. I think you’ve been stood up.”

“Whoever it is will be here,” Sarah said. “I mean, nobody goes through this kind of effort to just chicken out.”

The sound of a siren in the distance jarred their attention. Flashing red and blue lights danced along the white canvas wall, causing the deck’s patrons to rise from their seats and huddle by the vinyl windows.

Sarah viewed the bar where many of the stools stood empty, the customers having abandoned their televised basketball game for a look at whatever was going on outside. A solitary patron was still seated in the farthest corner of the bar, almost hidden in shadow. But, one good look caused the hairs on the back of her neck to jab taut.
Benny Benedetto.

Waitresses buzzed nearby with speculation but her main focus remained on the man at the bar. “Son-of-a-bitch,” she hissed under her breath, causing Gigi’s head to snap back in her direction.

“What?”

“I’ll be right back.” Sarah rose, her chair scraping loudly on the floor boards. “Our friend Mr. Benedetto is at the bar.”

Gigi peered around her uplifted shoulder in the direction of the counter. “Well, well…” It was a sultry sing-song.

Sarah quickly navigated the maze of tables as though racing a clock on a game show. She could tell he had seen her. He had pivoted in his seat and sat facing her now as she approached. The first thing her eyes locked onto was the denim clad thigh jutted out as if on display, the faded fabric firm against his leg.
For crying out loud, doesn’t he own anything besides jeans?

“May I ask you what you’re doing?” Her hand flew to her hip.

“Having a beer and watching the game.”

“And spying on me?”

“Where’s your note writer?”

“I don’t know, Benny.” She cocked her head to the side. “Am I talking to him right now?”

He sipped from his mug before placing it back square on a coaster
.
She ignored the way his lips closed in on themselves briefly as a postscript to his liquid indulgence. At least she willed herself to focus anyway.

“Well?” she said, glossing her tone with venom.

“I refuse to respond to such an asinine question.” He took a deep breath and let it expend. She ignored the rise and fall of his chest, refusing to remember its rock-hard feel against her torso.

“Avoidance doesn’t mean not-guilty.” She hated the breathiness of her tone. She cleared her throat, hoping her memory of that other night at the Pier House would follow suit.

“I didn’t write those notes, Sarah. But, I do think you’re crazy for deciding to meet whoever it is. At least you brought your friend along.”

The bartender approached and swiped a damp towel over the wooden surface. “Can I get you something?” he asked Sarah.

“What are you drinking?” Benny offered. He turned to the bartender. “Whatever she and her friend are drinking, it’s on me.”

“Nothing, thank you,” she said to the man behind the counter. She lifted her chin to Benny. “Just tell me what you’re doing here if you didn’t write the notes.”

“Enjoying the action on the court.” He motioned his head toward the television suspended from the ceiling. Then his dark eyes zeroed in on hers. “And making sure you don’t get yourself hurt.”

She swallowed hard and silently cursed her eyes for enjoying their feast.

“I see you’ve abandoned your gardening gear.”

His little smirky smile deserved a pinch, and her fingers twitched with the urge. But she knew better than to touch him. Any more.

Benny threw several bills onto the bar, took a quick sip of his beer. “I’m going to check out whatever’s going on out there.” He pointed in the direction of the huddled onlookers crowded at the clear plastic windows along the back wall.

Just then a waiter approached carrying a tray of dishes and glasses. “Have any updates, Mack?” Benny asked him.

“They’re saying two guys mugged somebody, took his wallet, and roughed him up, too. The ambulance just pulled up.” The waiter shook his head. “And, the season hasn’t even started yet.”

Something about the ambulance’s presence struck a new nerve and Sarah began to wonder if the incident might have something to do with the non-showing of her appointment.

She and Benny exchanged the briefest glance, as quick as a blink, but in that instant she saw the same question reflected in his dark eyes.

He said nothing, however, and turned his attention to the task of zipping his jacket. “My guess is that since nobody showed up tonight the police were right about those notes. Just a prank.”

Her hunch was that Benny believed his own words about as much as she did, and she had an urge to challenge him. But he was gone.

Chapter Nine

“Come on,” Sarah said as she returned to the table. She opened her purse and dug out some bills from her wallet.

“How much?” Gigi asked, grabbing her purse.

“Tonight’s my treat, Gigi. After all, I dragged you out here to be my co-sleuth.”

“Well, Cagney, Lacey here thanks you.” Gigi slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. “Where are we headed?”

“The beach.”

“I’m with you,” she said. “So, what’d your buddy have to say?”

“He’s an ass, and please do not refer to him as
my buddy.
” Sarah closed her payment into the waiter’s vinyl bill holder. “He claims he was here to make sure we didn’t get into trouble.”

“Really? Hmm…that’s kind of sweet,” Gigi said with a smile. Her mouth immediately lost its curve as though it had been slapped away. “What? You don’t think that was kind of gallant for a cop to just come out to keep an eye on your little mystery meeting?”

“No, I do not,” Sarah said. “He’s a
retired
cop, by the way, and he should mind his own business.”

Gigi responded with a brief shake of her head. The two made their way toward the commotion on the boardwalk.

By the time they reached the crowd of people standing by the storefronts, the ambulance had driven off down a side street. Two police vehicles were still parked in the head-in parking spaces by the beach entrance.

A small group of standers-by talked with two officers while other spectators continued to stare. Benny was among the crowd, standing front and center, arms folded across his chest. His intent gaze reminded Sarah of a sports coach on the sidelines of a playoff game.

“Look at him,” she said, motioning her head. “Is he serious? Why doesn’t he just go home and bake some more strudel?”

Gigi laughed. “You’re sounding less and less fond of this guy.”

“Bingo.”

“It’s almost like you’ve forgotten that hot kiss on the dance floor. Accent on ‘almost.’”

“Gigi, I swear…”

Sarah couldn’t help watching Benny though. He unfolded his arms and approached the officers with assured steps—the sheriff in an old western. He engaged them in conversation and Sarah could read the authority written all over his gestures, even from this distance. After a few minutes he walked away, heading down the boardwalk toward his cottage.

“Much as I hate to do this…” Sarah watched Benny’s figure retreat down the walkway. She tugged Gigi’s arm. “Come on. I’ve got to see if he found out anything.”

They scurried past those still milling along the macadam, nearly breaking into a jog to catch up to Benny. “Wait up,” she called.

He stopped and turned in their direction.

Up close, in the lamplight, his face shone blank and expressionless. Was it the cop in him providing the poker face? It was really unnerving. Suddenly Sarah wished she hadn’t followed after him.

“I, uh, just wondered if they said anything about what happened.” She did her best to keep her voice casual.

He didn’t speak; his face still deadpan.

“You know, I mean, could what happened at the beach have anything to do with the person who left the notes at my door?”

“They’ll check into it.”

“You mentioned my notes?” It felt like an intrusion, but wasn’t that why she had run after him in the first place—to find out if he had some insight? He was screwing up her thought process, as if it needed any more frazzling.

“They didn’t seem concerned.” He shrugged. He sounded terse and impatient.

Sarah felt a heated flush come to her cheeks. But the damned notes were her issue, not his—and if he’d stuck his nose into her business she deserved whatever information he’d attained.

“Who was it they took away in the ambulance?” She kept her tone steady in spite of her growing frustration.

He inclined his head toward the shoreline. “One of the punks from the beach. He and one of his buddies decided to double-team some guy and steal his wallet.”

He snickered. “Only they didn’t know the guy they attacked has a karate black belt. He went at them like a ninja. Seems he kicked the one little thief in the forehead with the heel of his shoe, sending him to the hospital for stitches.”

“Well, that’s good; at least, they didn’t get away with the man’s belongings.” Gigi said.

“Yeah, they did,” Benny said. “The second kid took off.”

“God, I hope they find him,” Gigi said.

“He’s on foot. They’ll nab him.” Benny sounded sure.

“Ronan’s Harbor’s such a nice, safe town. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come,” Gigi said.

“You and me both,” Benny said. “Properties will be worth squat if word gets around that riff-raff is moving in on the place.”

He turned his gaze to Sarah. “Goodnight, ladies. Take care.”

Benny walked away leaving Sarah and Gigi in their silence.

A male voice came out of nowhere. “And it’s only April.”

Sarah turned to find Jeremy Hudson at her side, just as tall and lanky as he’d been in high school. His hair was burnished gold, much darker than when he’d been a fixture at The Cornelia night and day during his and Hannah’s teen summers. She guessed that the former towhead, now being a store owner, didn’t get much time to enjoy the outdoors where the sunshine would bleach his shaggy head.

“Jeremy,” she smiled, “how are you?”

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Fine, Mrs. Grayson. Hi, Mrs. Allen. What’s the scoop?” He motioned his head toward the nearby policemen.

“We heard two young guys mugged a man.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Punks.”

“Ronan’s Harbor didn’t used to have punks,” Gigi lamented.

“Hopefully it’s just an occasional odd occurrence,” Sarah said.

He pulled his mouth down at the corners. “Even an occasional problem is too many problems.”

Sarah nodded. “By the way, how are your parents, Jeremy?”

His face softened, his boyish good looks evident even in the subdued night light. “Dad’s health isn’t great. The emphysema’s more tolerable out west, but it’s still debilitating. Mom’s good. She’s made a few friends, works part-time in a library.”

“Please say hello when you talk with them.”

“Will do. How’s Hannah?”

“She’s great, getting married soon.”