Wish Upon a Christmas Star (17 page)

“Did you question the salesclerk?”

“He claims he had no reason to do it,” Kayla said. “He got so
indignant I actually believed him.”

“Let’s think about this,” Maria said. “You went to sleep at
about eight this morning and woke up to check the website at ten-thirty or so,
right?”

“Right,” Kayla said.

“The gift shop doesn’t open until ten, so the incident had to
have happened between ten and ten-thirty,” Maria added.

“Unless the clerk is lying,” Logan pointed out. “He could have
tampered with the camera when he arrived to open the shop.”

“How can we be sure he’s telling the truth?” Kayla asked.

“Let me go downstairs and talk to him,” Logan offered. “I think
we’ve established a rapport.” He winked.

“Good idea,” Maria said. “While you’re down there, ask him who
came in the shop when it opened.”

“Will do.” Logan headed down the stairs.

“This is a disaster.” Kayla hugged herself and rocked back and
forth. “Even if we find out who the culprit is, my P.I. career is doomed. I
messed up big-time.”

“We’re in the tropics, Kayla,” Maria pointed out. “Santa
probably should have been wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses in the first
place.”

“But not devil horns,” Kayla wailed. “It made him look demonic
and cheerful all at once. You’ll see when the photo’s in the newspaper
tomorrow.”

“I feel your pain,” Maria said. “But if you find out who’s
doing this, the photo might not be as damaging as you think.”

“You’re right.” Kayla’s chest expanded and she seemed to grow a
few inches. “If I want to make private investigation a career, I need to act
like a detective. There are a couple of things I can check out. It’s a busy
intersection. It seems likely that somebody saw something.”

“You can talk to employees who work at the other businesses
within view of the statue,” she suggested.

“Exactly what I was thinking. I’ll get right on it.” Kayla
started to pick up a wildly colored print shirt from the back of a chair, then
let it drop. “I guess I can leave this here.”

“Is that the shirt Santa was wearing?” Maria asked, reaching
for it to get a better look.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I think I saw this same shirt in a shop yesterday. If you
want, I’ll check it out for you.”

“Oh, thank you.” Kayla pressed her hands together and gave a
little bow on her way past. “I’ll call you later and we can compare notes.”

That was exactly what Maria and Logan did after they left the
gift shop. He reported that the clerk insisted he hadn’t tampered with the
camera. Minutes after the shop opened, about a dozen people from a cruise ship
had come in to buy souvenirs, the man had claimed. They’d kept him so busy that
any one of them could have sneaked upstairs. So, too, could a stray customer who
hadn’t been part of the group.

“In other words,” Maria said as they walked, “the clerk was no
help at all.”

“Bingo,” Logan said. Although he didn’t put his arm around her
or enfold her hand in his, he was so close their shoulders almost touched. So
close passersby would think they were a couple. “Are you going to tell me where
you saw the shirt for sale?”

“I’ll show you,” Maria said.

She took the same route she had the day before, passing by the
table at the Daybreak Café where she and Logan had eaten lunch and going
straight to the small gift shop adjacent to the restaurant. It sold all things
Cuban. Maria went directly to a stack of shirts. Sure enough, the one on display
featured gold flowers, green palm trees and colorful parrots on an aqua
background.

“I knew I’d seen this shirt before,” Maria said. “At first
glance, it seems like Hawaiian, but it’s actually a guayabera.”

“What’s the difference?” Logan asked.

“Mostly the large front pockets and the stitching pattern.” She
showed him the two vertical rows of tiny pleats running along the front and
back. “Somebody I talked to about Mike a few days ago was wearing one, although
the pattern wasn’t nearly as tropical as this one. I think most guayabera shirts
are pretty plain.”

“Do you think the prankster bought the shirt here?” Logan
asked.

“Not necessarily,” Maria said slowly, as her thoughts
formulated. “I don’t think he needed to pay for it.”

“Alex Suarez?” Logan’s eyebrows drew together. “Why would he be
doing this? He’s the one who hired Kayla.”

“That could have been misdirection,” Maria said. “Haven’t you
noticed how all roads seem to lead back to Suarez? Remember the owner of The
Flying Monkey telling us Suarez was opposed to the statue? What better way to
throw suspicion off yourself than by offering to hire someone to catch the
culprit? When he found out about the camera, he could have sent that mass email
to cover his tracks.”

Logan grinned at her. “You really are a good private
investigator, aren’t you?”

“I have my moments,” she said, wishing those moments translated
to her brother’s case. She felt glad that she could help Kayla, but not for a
second had she forgotten why she was in Key West.

“What now?” he asked. “Will you confront Suarez?”

“I’m going to run my theory by Kayla,” Maria said. “It’s her
case. I just hope she’ll consider it. She has a pretty big crush on him.”

“Too bad for her,” Logan said.

“What do you mean?” Maria asked, although she’d had the same
thought.

“I saw him last night at the concert, getting cozy with a tall,
busty brunette,” he said.

The physical opposite of Kayla. “Ouch,” Maria said. “But if
Suarez is behind the shenanigans with Santa, Kayla is better off without
him.”

A harried-looking waitress stuck her head into the small shop.
“If you want to buy something, you can take it up to the cash register in the
restaurant.”

That was their cue to leave. Maria didn’t see Alex Suarez
anywhere in the place, which was just as well.

“Didn’t you get the impression yesterday that Suarez was a
pretty smart guy?” Logan asked when they were outside again.

“Yeah, I did,” Maria agreed. “Why do you ask?”

“Why would a smart guy pull a dumb move like using a shirt from
his own shop?”

While Maria was mulling over the answer, she caught sight of
something aqua in her peripheral vision. She stopped dead, grabbing Logan’s hand
so he had to stop, too.

“Oh, rats,” she said.

“Rats?”

She pointed to a store window display that included the same
guayabera shirt they’d seen at the shop attached to Alex Suarez’s
restaurant.

“I have a feeling,” Logan said slowly, “that you can buy that
shirt all over Key West.”

* * *

T
HE
INSTRUMENTAL
VERSION
of “White Christmas” drifted through the sliding screen door
to the patio where Logan stood with Maria and Kayla on Saturday night.

All told, there were thirty or forty people in the fenced
backyard of Kayla’s mother’s pale blue, one-story house. Almost all of them were
related to Kayla.

“Thanks again for inviting us to crash your mom’s party,” Logan
said. He’d been surprised when Maria accepted the invitation until he’d realized
she could ask the guests about Mike. She had already flashed the age progression
around the party.

Kayla waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. The more, the
merrier. That’s the Fryburger motto.”

Everybody seemed to be having a good time. The fence and the
palm trees in the backyard were decorated with the same tiny white lights that
rimmed the house. The guests munched on Christmas cookies and hors d’oeuvres
while sipping on eggnog and a spiked red punch.

“You don’t seem particularly merry, Kayla,” Maria observed. In
her black hair, she was wearing one of the poinsettia blooms that Helene
Fryburger had handed out when they’d arrived. Maria’s dress, the same color as
the flower, hugged her curvy figure. Logan’s heart beat faster just looking at
her.

“It’s hard to get in the Christmas spirit when you couldn’t
stop somebody from putting devil horns on Santa,” Kayla said. “I just can’t
believe I couldn’t find anybody who saw it happen.”

Earlier in the day, Maria had run her suspicions of Alex by
Kayla. The apprentice P.I. had made the same observation as Logan, that an
intelligent man wouldn’t dress the statue in a shirt from his store. Then Kayla
had given Maria and Logan a bare-bones rundown of her attempt to locate an
eyewitness. She’d been so exhausted from staying up all night, however, that
this was the first time they’d had a chance to go over details.

“Did you talk to anybody who was on the Conch Tour?” Maria
asked.

“A bunch of people,” Kayla said. “But the place where the tour
makes a stop is actually about a half block from the intersection. Most of the
shops in Truval Village don’t face the statue.”

“Too bad the person in the information booth didn’t see
anything,” Maria mentioned.

“She said business is pretty steady all day long. She can’t
actually see the statue from where she sits, either.” Kayla frowned. “After an
hour or so of stopping people at random, I resigned myself to striking out.”

“You handed out business cards, right?” Maria asked. Even in
the midst of her personal crises, she was genuinely interested in helping Kayla.
One more thing to admire about her, Logan thought.

“Sure did,” Kayla said.

“Then don’t give up,” Maria advised. “Something still might
happen.”

“Yeah, Alex might fire me,” Kayla said. “He was pretty steamed
when I told him what went down. That’s why I think it’s crazy you suspected him
of being the prankster.”

“Well, I try not to rule out anybody or anything,” Maria
stated.

Smart words. Too bad Maria was having trouble following her own
advice when it came to her brother.

“Did I tell you I was thinking about inviting Alex to the
party, too?” Kayla asked. “I probably would have if the you-know-what hadn’t hit
the fan.”

Logan exchanged a look with Maria. Without speaking, he knew
she was also thinking about the brunette he’d seen Suarez with at the
concert.

“You’re so cute, Kayla,” Maria said. “There must be other guys
who are interested in you.”

“James Smith asked me out,” she admitted.

“The
Key West Sun
photographer?”
When she nodded, Maria continued, “He seems like a nice guy, and he has that
killer smile. You should have asked him to the party.”

“You’re forgetting James is the guy whose photo of Devil Santa
is running in the newspaper tomorrow.” Kayla shook her head. “I don’t think
so.... Hey, speaking of tomorrow, you two are going to be here, right? You’re
not leaving or anything?”

“I’m not leaving.” Maria turned to look at Logan. “I’m not sure
about you.”

They’d had all day to talk about what would happen next, both
in the investigation and their relationship. Yet after Maria had reiterated that
there wasn’t much they could do until a ransom demand was made, they hadn’t
discussed either subject.

Logan had seized the moment, persuading Maria to take a
sightseeing tour of the island and to visit the Hemingway House. The day had
been so pleasant that he hadn’t even told her about the heated voice mail his
boss had left in response to the news that Logan would be staying in Key West
for a few more days.

“You’d better be back on Christmas Eve for that party at the
Waldorf if career advancement is important to you,” Logan’s boss had warned.

Christmas Eve was two days away.

“I’ll be here tomorrow.” Logan imagined that Maria’s body
sagged with relief. But his observation, of course, could have been wishful
thinking.

“Then could you two do me a favor?” Kayla rolled her eyes. “I
mean another favor. I looked at the video to see if I’d notice anything out of
the ordinary before somebody took the security camera out of commission. I
didn’t. It sure would help to have another couple pairs of eyes review it.”

“We’d be happy to,” Maria said. Logan thought it had to mean
something that she’d included him in the response.

“Yeah,” he said. “No problem.”

He noticed that Maria’s glass was empty and put out his hand.
“If you like, I’ll get you more punch.”

“Thanks,” she said, handing it to him.

“Kayla, how about you?”

“I’m good.” She held up a bottle of water that was half-full.
“Boring, but good.”

He indicated her outfit with a sweep of his hand. She was
wearing a short, patterned dress with sky-high heels. “No way is a woman who
dresses like you boring.”

Kayla twirled around, lifting her hands over her head so her
skirt fluttered. “Thanks.”

He laughed, then went in search of the punch bowl. Refreshments
were set up on the kitchen table just inside the door. Kayla’s uncle Frank was
already there, watching another man, who had his back to Logan, scoop the red
liquid into his cup.

“Drink too much of that and you’ll have to crawl home,” Frank
told him. “I added more booze when Helene wasn’t looking.”

“I can handle it.” The man took a swig of the punch and Logan
saw him in profile. It was Repeat, one of Frank’s “cronies” from the poker game.
The one who’d overheard the guy with the tattoo talking about naked photos.

“Can I get some of that punch, too?” Logan would warn Maria
that it was liberally spiked. He hoped she would drink some, though. She was
still far too tense.

“Hey, I know you,” Frank said. “Logan, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he said. “I remember your names, too. Frank and
Repeat.”

“It’s actually Peter,” the other man said. “I’ve decided not to
go by Repeat anymore.”

“Since when?” Frank asked.

“This afternoon,” he said. “Gladys doesn’t like the
nickname.”

“Do you listen to everything your wife says?” Frank
demanded.

“Hell, yeah,” Peter said. “Don’t you?”

“Of course not!” Frank said.