Neighing with Fire: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (5 page)

“Do you want to wait?” asked the hostess.

Before they could answer, an exuberant “Chief McCabe! Sheriff Dorman!” filled the air. Colleen, Bill, and the other patrons turned to see what the commotion was about and spotted Pinky waving from a booth by the window.

“I think we’ll join our friend,” Colleen said to the hostess, and then whispered to Bill, “I’ll explain why later.”

She knew Bill wouldn’t be excited about sharing his dinner date with Pinky, but once she had a chance to explain to him the conversation she had had with Denny earlier and Denny’s accusation that she had been spying for Pinky, she thought he’d understand.

“So good to see you both,” Pinky said as they reached the table. “Care to join me?”

“Dining alone?” Bill asked, noticing the table had only one place setting.

“Not now,” Pinky said with a smile, gesturing for them to have a seat.

She took a seat opposite Pinky. Bill slid in beside her.

Seconds later, the waitress approached their table. “They’re joining you?” she asked Pinky.

“Yes,” Pinky said, and flashed her one of his minty fresh smiles. “If it’s not too much trouble for you, of course.”

“Not at all,” the waitress replied.

She had to give Pinky credit … he certainly knew how to charm the ladies.

“So can I get you two anything to drink?” the waitress asked Colleen and Bill.

“An iced tea for me,” Colleen said.

“I’m fine with water,” said Bill.

“Oh, come now,” Pinky said. “Why not join me in a drink?”

“I’m driving,” Bill said, still not pleased to be dining with Pinky.

“What about you,” Pinky asked her.

She wanted to say yes but thought it better to be clearheaded when she asked Pinky about Denny. “Iced tea is fine.”

“One water, one iced tea,” the waitress said. “I’ll give you time to check out the menu.”

Colleen watched the waitress make her way to the bar. She wondered how to broach the topic of Denny with Pinky. She sensed it might be a touchy subject.

“What are you thinking about?” Bill asked her.

“I know that look,” Pinky said, teasing. “It usually means the lovely chief is about to interrogate me.”

She wrinkled her nose, annoyed but not entirely angry that Pinky had been correct. It gave her the opening she was hoping for. “Tell me about Denny Custis.”

“See?” Pinky said with a triumphant grin.

Bill frowned. He was not enjoying Pinky’s flirting or the fact that he didn’t know what Colleen was up to.

“I understand there’s a dispute over land,” she said.

“Custis is a vulture,” he said with disdain. “He wants a property I own.”

She tapped Bill’s foot with hers, her way of signaling him that this had been the motivation for dining with Pinky. Bill’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned forward with interest.

“Custis seems to think the land is his,” she said.

“Because he’s a greedy—” Pinky stopped himself. “The records prove the land is in my company’s name.”

“Then what’s at issue?” Bill asked.

“An entire parcel. One, I might add, that would be large enough to build a hotel on if not for a certain piece that I own right in the middle of it.”

Pinky pounded the table with a finger then glanced out the window. It was the first time she had seen genuine anger from him. The two rivals obviously shared a mutual dislike—if not outright hate—for one another.

“Where is this land?” she asked, curious as to where Denny wanted to build a hotel this far north.

Pinky paused, and then said, “Carova.”

Bill’s brows furrowed. “Doesn’t sound like a solid plan given that the area is only four-wheel-drive accessible.”

“You think that wouldn’t change once he got ahold of the property?” Pinky said, locking eyes with Bill to drive home the point.

“But that’s where the horses are,” Colleen said, horrified by the idea of a hotel in the midst of the horses’ last refuge.

“Which is why he’ll get that property over my dead body,” Pinky said and meant it.

Most people in the community had no knowledge of Pinky’s incredible generosity when it came to helping the wild horses. He had never admitted to making the large donation last summer, but Colleen and Bill had figured it out. She admired Pinky for wanting to remain an anonymous benefactor. He could have made a big show of it, won over some of his detractors, and even shown up his stingy rival Denny, but by remaining anonymous, he had kept the focus on the horses.

“How long has your feud with Mr. Custis been going on?” Bill asked.

“A feud goes two ways,” Pinky said. “This is not a feud. He’s tried vandalizing my properties, hiring people to squat on them, even tried having one condemned but, contrary to what I know some people think of me in this community, I don’t stoop to criminal tactics.”

“How come I haven’t heard about this?” Bill asked. “You could file a complaint.”

“I’m not the type of man that lets others settle matters for him.”

Pinky’s animosity toward Denny strengthened the negative opinion Colleen had formed of the construction kingpin this morning. And no wonder Myrtle was unhappy with Denny. Not only was he possibly interfering with the horses, he was threatening to take away part of their habitat and bring in roads—the very thing the horses had been moved away from when relocated to Carova.

“I’m afraid all this talk about Mr. Custis hasn’t made me good company,” Pinky said, removing his wallet and leaving a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “Please, take my table. Enjoy the view. It was nice seeing you both again.” And with that Pinky made a smooth but hasty exit.

She and Bill sat in silence for a moment.

The waitress returned with their drinks. “Something wrong?” she asked, noticing Pinky’s absence.

“Our friend had to go,” Colleen said. “But we’ll be staying for dinner.” She took the fifty-dollar bill and held it out for the waitress. “He left this for you.”

The waitress’s eyes widened. She scanned the exit for Pinky and then turned back to Colleen and Bill. “So. What can I get you two?”

They placed their orders, more preoccupied now with the conversation with Pinky than with what delicious food they put into their bellies. Bill waited until the waitress had left and then scooted to the opposite side of the booth to face Colleen directly.

“Were you spying on Denny for Pinky this morning?” he asked.

“No. I didn’t even know about Denny and Pinky’s dispute.”

“But you
were
snooping.” Her lack of denial gave him his answer. “Who for?”

She exhaled. There was no use hiding it from him. “Myrtle.”

“Myrtle?” he said, surprised.

“She believes Denny or his men are harassing the horses, but she hasn’t been able to catch them. She thinks he has scouts to alert him when she’s touring the refuge.”

“He probably does,” Bill said. “That still doesn’t explain your involvement.”

“Myrtle thought Denny’s men wouldn’t be on the alert for me.”

“So you came up with the story about checking on his properties because of the arsons as an excuse.”

She knew that tone. It was the one Bill had when he thought she was butting in where she didn’t belong or intruding on one of his investigations. “So you know, I was rewarded for my good deed with a nail in my tire.”

“You probably picked it up at the construction site. That happens a lot.”

“Must be,” she said, not wanting to tell Bill her theory that Denny or his goon had done it to punish or warn her. She didn’t want him to worry, especially when she didn’t have any proof Denny was responsible. Time to shift attention away from her covert operation. “I got the impression this morning when we were with our John Doe that Rodney isn’t too fond of Denny.”

“Really?” he asked, and took a sip of his water. “Did he say something to you?”

“Only that he didn’t care for him. I thought you might know why.”

“No. But it sounds like a lot of people don’t like Denny.”

“How about you?”

“I try to leave my personal feelings out of my dealings with people.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you didn’t mind him slapping you on the back and calling you ‘big guy’?”

His jaw clenched. “Denny’s the kind of man who has to let other men know he’s in charge. I don’t get into it with people like that.”

“Funny. You and Pinky seem to be in agreement about how to handle Denny.”

“Could we please not talk about Salvatore?”

“We do have him to thank for this great view,” she said, and pointed to the sun setting over the sound. “You gotta admit that.”

“Maybe.”

The sun painted the sky a brilliant fiery orange before disappearing over the treetop horizon of the mainland. The food arrived and they dug into delicious dishes of freshly saut
é
ed trout, beef tenderloin, and roasted potatoes. After a few minutes of eating in comfortable silence, Colleen leaned back, feeling pleasantly relaxed.

“You didn’t say how things went with the couple who found the body,” she said as Bill finished his meal.

He took a sip of water but said nothing.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “We’re not going to do this again, are we?”

“It’s our pas de deux,” he said.

“Our what?”

“Nothing,” he said and blushed.

“No. You said it’s our pas de deux.”

“If you must know,” he said, finding it hard to keep a straight face now. “Pas de deux is a ballet term.”

“Really?” She suppressed a giggle. “And how, might I ask, do you know this? Have you been watching
Dancing with the Stars
or something?”

“I got dragged to my sister’s dance recitals for years. There’s a set order to the dance steps and it always ends the same.”

“Okay then, smarty pants. Since you know our ‘dance’ always ends up with us working cases together, why don’t we skip the middle steps and you tell me what the Templetons said and if you know any more about our John Doe.”

“So we’re like Nick and Nora Charles now?”

“Or Castle and Beckett.”

Bill grinned. He’s really enjoying himself, she thought. She folded her arms and feigned impatience.

“There really isn’t much to tell,” he finally said. “The Templetons went outside to inspect the beach after the storm and when they got to the bottom of the walkway discovered the body.”

“They hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the dune before the storm?”

He shook his head. “Before the storm they said the entire area under the walkway had been covered by sand.”

“You have any outstanding missing persons reports?”

“No,” he said, and rubbed his arm.

There was something more. She leaned forward and studied his face intently. “You don’t seem too eager to find out who our John Doe is.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear soon.”

“No,” Colleen said. “That’s not it.” Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. “You already know who he is.”

“What makes you say that?”

“All the years we’ve been working together. Who is he?”

Bill squirmed under her gaze. “Michael Hector Fuentes.”

She didn’t know if she was more stunned by the news that their John Doe had a name or by the fact that Bill had known and hadn’t told her.

“Still no word on cause or time of death,” he said before she could ask.

“That’s got to be a record for the ME,” she said. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they had recovered the body. “How’d they ID him so fast? The body looked, well, bad.”

“The guy had a pacemaker. As soon as the ME saw that, he entered the serial number into the registry and got his name.”

“The name Michael Fuentes doesn’t sound familiar. You think he was visiting on vacation?”

“Could be. He’s not in the missing persons database. I’ve had Rodney put the word out and make some calls. See if anyone knows him.”

If Fuentes wasn’t a local then how did he end up in Carova buried under a walkway that someone knew couldn’t be disturbed? Was he at the wrong place at the wrong time? Had he been up to something illegal? And why hadn’t anyone come forward searching for him? The more they found out about the dead man, the more they’d learn about the possible identity of his killer.

“What are you thinking?” Bill asked.

“If Mr. Fuentes wasn’t a local, whoever killed him certainly was, or is.”

“We don’t know that we’re dealing with a homicide … not officially anyway.”

“Last summer and now this. I’m starting to wonder if Corolla has become a home for murderers.”

“No more than any other community,” he said. “A forensics lab director once told me anyone is capable of anything…”

“… under the right circumstances,” she said, finishing his sentence. She had heard that said as well.

The waitress approached. “Can I interest you in coffee or dessert? The chef’s made a key lime pie to die for.”

“Not for me, thank you,” Colleen said, certain she couldn’t squeeze another bit of food into her belly.

“Just the check,” Bill said, and the waitress handed him the paper, already anticipating his answer. He slipped her a credit card and she disappeared to ring up the payment.

They settled the bill, then went north on Route 12 to Colleen’s house. Bill made the turn off of Ocean Trail onto Lakeview Court and then into her driveway.

“Care to come in for coffee?” she asked.

“Coffee would be great,” he said and cut the engine.

She exited and closed the door. Bill’s phone buzzed to life.

“What’s up,” she heard him ask as she crossed to his side. Through the open window, she heard Rodney on the other end say something about speeding. “On my way,” Bill said and hung up.

“You’ve got to go,” she said.

“Some kids are racing motor scooters on Ocean Trail between Duck and Pine Island.”

She shook her head. That stretch of the two-lane road was winding and had lush foliage from the wildlife preservation center on both sides, which made seeing around the bends difficult. If anything, it was best to slow down in that section.

“I’m sorry you can’t come in,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Me, too,” he said softly.

Her cheeks flushed pink. These were the moments that were still awkward for them. When they were “just friends” she would have pounded the side of his vehicle and told him she’d see him later. Now all she wanted was for him to stay.