Wish Upon a Christmas Star (7 page)

“Don’t worry about it.” Maria couldn’t remember the last time
she’d met somebody who was so open and honest. “Sometimes it helps to get
another person’s perspective.”

“You really think so? Because even if it hadn’t been Alex who
hired me, I’d still have a challenge in front of me. I’m not sure I can...” She
trailed off in midsentence and thumped her forehead. “I’m sorry. TMI. Too much
information. I’m just going on and on. I haven’t even asked why you stopped
me.”

“I was on my way to see Carl Dexter,” Maria said. “I saw you
coming out of his office.”

“Oh, no!” She gasped and covered her mouth. “I knew I shouldn’t
have told you all that. Now you’ll never hire us.”

Maria smiled despite everything that was on her mind. “I’m not
a client. I’m in the same business as you are. I was hoping Carl could give me
some advice on a case while I’m in town.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re a private investigator?”

“All the way from the great state of Kentucky,” Maria said. “My
name’s Maria DiMarco.”

“I’m Kayla Fryburger.” She made a face. “It’s an awful name,
isn’t it? Kids used to tease me about it, growing up. For a while I was even a
vegetarian.”

“It’s not so bad,” Maria said.

“Listen to me. You don’t want to hear about my name. You want
to know about Uncle Carl. Sorry to tell you this, but he’s in Chicago until
after Christmas.”

Maria felt herself deflate, like a balloon with a slow leak.
Now what? She’d been under the impression Carl ran a one-man show like she did,
but she should have put two and two together.

“I don’t normally tell people I’m Carl’s niece...” Kayla
paused. “He left me in charge while he’s gone. He must have thought I wouldn’t
have anything to do. Wouldn’t you know it? I’ve got a case.”

“Good for you,” Maria said.

“It would seem so, right?” Kayla said. “Too bad I’m not real
sure how to proceed. I was going to call Uncle Carl for advice, but if I don’t
find a way to impress him it’ll be curtains for me. He took me on for eight
weeks on a trial basis. Six of them are already up.”

A picture of an inexperienced investigator who was in over her
head was starting to crystallize.

“You’ll be fine if you use common sense and work on being
patient and disciplined,” Maria said. “The best trait is being a good
listener.”

“That’s great advice.” Kayla touched Maria’s upper arm, her
eyes shining. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can help you. In exchange, you can
give me some guidance.”

Under normal circumstances, Maria would be sympathetic. She
couldn’t lose sight of her goal, though, and that was finding out whether her
brother was in Key West.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t see how something like that
would work.”

Kayla’s expressive face fell. “Oh, well. It was worth a shot. I
know I’m not real good at being a P.I. yet but I think I can get there. And I’d
do just about anything to avoid making bottle art.”

“Bottle art,” Maria repeated. “What’s that?”

“My mom and I recycle glass bottles into various products. Wind
chimes. Glassware. Jewelry.” A tired look came over her face. “Mom’s a Key West
institution. I can’t remember her not doing it.”

“Wait a minute,” Maria said, an idea starting to form. “How
long have you lived in Key West?”

“All my life.” She put up a hand. “Don’t say that couldn’t have
been very long. I know I don’t look it, but I’m twenty-five. I’ve been out of
high school for a very long time.”

Maria didn’t have time to puzzle over why Kayla felt it
necessary to mention her high school years were behind her.

“This could work, after all. I think my brother might be living
in Key West under an assumed name. I need a list of local hotspots and local
contacts who might know people who are trying to keep a low profile.”

Kayla clapped her hands and awarded Maria with a toothy grin.
“I can help you with that. And you can give me advice on how to catch whoever’s
messing with Santa Claus.”

Intriguing.
Maria’s stomach
growled, reminding her she’d skipped breakfast. She tried not to think about
where Logan Collier would eat his lonely lunch.

“Is there somewhere around here we can grab a bite to eat?”
Maria asked. “Seems to me, briefing each other will take a while.”

* * *

L
OGAN
HELD
HIS
CELL
PHONE
to his ear. Cool liquid from the bottled water he’d bought at the Blue Tropics
hotel gift shop slid down his throat as he took heat from his boss.

“What do you mean, you might not be back this weekend? I need
you here, Logan.” Harvey Stein, office manager for the Pride Financial Group,
had a quintessential type A personality. He talked with a staccato beat and
walked with quick, light steps. He often said he needed to move fast so the
competition wouldn’t catch him. “We’re having that holiday party on Christmas
Eve at the Starlight Roof in the Waldorf Astoria, and you told me you’re booked
for dinners with clients up until then.”

Harvey had all but mandated that his employees go heavy on the
wining and dining. He believed money spent splurging on clients over the
holidays came back double during the rest of the year.

“Sorry, Harvey,” Logan said. “I’ve got personal business I need
to attend to.”

Too bad Logan’s personal business had ditched him a few hours
ago. He’d waited in the coffee shop with their drinks for a good ten minutes
before it occurred to him Maria wasn’t in the restroom.

Now he was parked in an armchair in the lobby of the Blue
Tropics, the better to intercept her when she inevitably returned to the
hotel.

“You never miss work because of personal stuff,” Harvey said.
“What is it? A matter of life or death?”

In a way it was. Maria thought her brother might be alive while
Logan was certain Mike was dead.

“It’s not like you to let me down,” Harvey continued. “Now
would be the worst possible time to start disappointing me if you want my
job.”

Logan had been mulling over how much to tell his boss about
what was going on. His mind switched gears. “What do you mean by that? You’re
not thinking of retiring, are you?”

“I’m considering it. I’m sixty-nine years old, after all. I
can’t run the show forever.”

Three giggling young teens picked the worst possible moment to
walk by, talking so loudly Logan had to strain to hear Harvey.

“Where are you?” his boss asked.

Logan turned the phone away just as one of the girls declared
how she really wanted to “you know, like, visit the Hemingway House and then see
if we can get served drinks at Sloppy Joe’s.” Telling Harvey he was in Key West
would not be a wise move.

“Sorry,” Logan said. “I’m beside a TV.”

There was a television in the lobby. At the moment, however, it
was switched off.

“As I was saying, you need to be on your toes if you want me to
recommend you to take my place,” Harvey advised. “You do want to, right?”

It was the next logical step. Logan had moved steadily up the
ladder since joining the firm, building the stable career he’d envisioned when
he went to college for a business degree.

Maria entered the lobby just then, reminding him that the
future he’d pictured had included her. She didn’t look her best. Her black hair
was starting to fall out of her ponytail and her sundress was wrinkled. Even at
her worst, though, Maria was beautiful.

“Logan?” Harvey said. “Why aren’t you answering? You do want
the job, right?”

“Absolutely,” he declared.

“Then get back here ASAP. This weekend at the latest. Can you
do that?”

Logan hadn’t gotten as far as he had without telling his boss
what he wanted to hear. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Harvey rang off at the same moment Maria spotted Logan.
Her shoulders squared and her chin lifted. It didn’t look as if she’d be
apologizing for ditching Logan.

“Hey, Maria.” He indicated the armchair next to him. “Have a
seat. Fill me in on what’s happened since I last saw you.”

She dropped her hands on her hips. They were curvy, the way a
woman’s hips should be.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re spying for Annalise
now.”

“Excuse me?”

“That was my sister on the phone, wasn’t it?” she demanded.

“Actually, it was my boss,” Logan said. “I called to let him
know I was delayed.”

Her shoulders seemed to relax. “I bet he wasn’t happy about
that.”

“He wasn’t.”

“So did you tell him you’d be back as soon as you could?” She
crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him intently. “You did, didn’t
you?”

“My job’s important to me,” he said.

“I know it is.” Her words were matter-of-fact; her tone was
flippant. “So go back to New York. I won’t stop you.”

She was as impossible as she’d always been—and as complicated.
The hard exterior she presented hid a marshmallow center, a trait she’d shared
with her brother Mike. Logan couldn’t tell whether she really didn’t want him
around or if she was using the tough talk as a defense mechanism.

“I’m here at least until tomorrow,” Logan said. “Let me help
you, Maria.”

Her mouth worked but no words emerged. It was as though she
wasn’t sure what to say, as though she wanted him to stay but couldn’t bring
herself to say so.

He patted the armchair again. “C’mon. Sit with me awhile.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Logan,” she said. “Yeah, you were a
help back at the post office. I’ll admit that. But I didn’t ask you to come
here.”

“You’d feel less guilty if you sat down and told me what you’ve
been up to,” he said.

She sank into the chair. “What makes you think I feel
guilty?”

“I got you to sit down, didn’t I?” he asked.

“Okay, so I do feel a little guilty,” she admitted, throwing up
her hands. “You want to know what I’ve been up to? I’ll tell you. Then you’ll
understand why you’re not needed.”

She spent the next ten minutes telling him about a Santa Claus
statue that kept getting defaced and her deal to mentor an apprentice private
eye in return for information. She had a list of local hangouts, contact
information for some longtime Key West residents and a suggestion to go to the
nightly sunset celebration at the Mallory Square dock.

“I can usually do a lot of investigative work online but not
with this case,” she said. “The only way to find out if Mike is in Key West is
to physically go out and talk to people.”

“All the more reason to keep me around,” Logan said. “We can
cover more ground if we work together.”

“I don’t understand,” Maria said. “You haven’t seen me in
years. Why is it so important for you to help me?”

A good question. He wasn’t completely sure of his reasons.
Guilt had something to do with it, but so did the thought of leaving Maria alone
in Key West so close to Christmas.

“Does it matter?” he asked. “Can’t you just accept my
help?”

“What if I refuse?”

“It won’t do any good,” Logan said. “I’ll follow you around
town. I’m better at it now. I got some experience this morning.”

“I don’t want—”

His phone rang, cutting off what she was about to say. He
picked up his cell and looked down at the caller display. “It’s a Key West
exchange,” he told Maria.

“Answer it,” she said, scooting forward in her seat. “It could
be that woman from the post office.”

That was exactly who it was. Logan silently mouthed as much,
then, nodding at regular intervals, listened intently to what the postal clerk
had to say. He could feel impatience rolling off Maria in waves.

“Well? What did she tell you?” Maria asked the instant he
disconnected the call. “Did somebody recognize the photo?”

Logan considered how to answer without getting her hopes up too
high. Not for a minute did he believe this lead would pan out. “Possibly.”

“What do you mean, possibly?” she retorted. “Somebody either
recognized Mike or they didn’t.”

“Hold on a minute and let me explain.” Logan chose his words
carefully. “Somebody at the post office thinks the age progression looks like a
guy who’s a regular at a bar on Duval Street. The guy’s there at least a few
nights a week.”

“Which bar?” Maria asked.

Logan wouldn’t normally withhold information to get his way.
These, however, were special circumstances.

“I’ll tell you tonight,” he said, “when we go there
together.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“I
CAN
’
T
BELIEVE
YOU
still won’t tell me the name
of the bar,” Maria groused.

She and Logan were in the heart of the tourist area. The tiny
white lights that decorated many of the businesses were only starting to glow.
If Logan hadn’t gotten the tip, she would have spent the evening touring the
local bars Kayla had told her about.

Late this afternoon she and Logan had stopped by a coffee shop,
a barbershop and a diner. Nobody had recognized Mike. They’d intended to go to
the sunset celebration but had run out of time.

“I’ve got a steep learning curve,” Logan said. “You gave me the
slip once. You might do it again.”

“This time you’d know where I was going,” she replied.

He slanted her a grin. “Still, I’m not taking any chances.”

A quartet of twenty-somethings in shorts and Key West T-shirts
passed by, each carrying a plastic cup filled with what was probably alcohol,
legal on the island. Behind them a small, elderly man dressed as an elf pushed a
shopping cart made up to look like a sleigh.

“Santa’s helper coming through,” he called in a high, nasal
voice.

Logan edged closer to Maria, taking her arm and shielding her
from the crush. Even though being on Duval Street was an assault to the senses,
she could pick out his clean scent. The hairs on her arm stood at attention. Her
stomach tightened.

He kept hold of her, as though it was perfectly natural for him
to be touching her.

“You can let me go now,” she said.

“Oh, no, I can’t,” he said. She was summoning the will to
wrench her arm away when he added, “Not until that belly dancer goes by.”

Sure enough, coming toward them was a woman with a long green
skirt hanging low on her hips and a red jewel in her naval. She seemed to be
rehearsing her act as she walked.

Logan laughed aloud. “This place is crazy. I like it.”

If not for his close shave and expertly cut short hair, he’d
almost look like he fit in. He’d exchanged his dark slacks and gray shirt for
jeans and a floral print shirt he must have bought earlier today. No way could
Maria imagine he’d had that shirt in his suitcase. Or as part of his usual
wardrobe.

“It does feel like a different world, doesn’t it?” she
murmured. “A place somebody would come to get away from it all.”

“By somebody, do you mean Mike?”

“Yes,” she said. “If he’s been trying to lie low, it makes
sense that he’d be in Key West.”

“I’ve gotta say this again, Maria,” Logan stated. “For Mike to
be alive, he’d have to go to great lengths to make sure nobody knew it. Stop and
think about that.”

Logan let go of her arm. The night was warm, probably still in
the low seventies, but it felt as though a chill swept over her. There was no
denying she couldn’t reconcile that piece of the puzzle.

“I never said I had all the answers,” Maria admitted. “Any good
investigator knows not everything makes sense until the case is solved.”

She expected him to argue with her. Instead, he pointed to one
of the indoor-outdoor bars that were popular in Key West. Poised at the edge of
its roofline was the likeness of a winged monkey with its teeth bared. “Here we
are,” he said.

An outdoor seating area filled with café-style plastic tables
and chairs led to sliding glass doors that were open wide. Inside, perhaps
seventy or eighty customers were gathered around a bar with counter space on
three sides.

“The Flying Monkey.” Maria read the sign the monkey on the roof
was holding. She shuddered. “That thing looks even more menacing than the
monkeys in
The Wizard of Oz.
”

“That’s right,” Logan said, a corner of his mouth lifting. “We
watched that movie together once. You used to be afraid of them.”

“Only because they’re terrifying. I’m surprised that monkey
doesn’t drive away business.”

He laughed. “Hardly. The desk clerk at my hotel said this is
one of the most popular bars in the city.”

Logan was staying a block from the Blue Tropics at a boutique
hotel that cost easily twice as much as her room. He claimed it was because her
hotel had no vacancy. Maria doubted he would have booked a room at the Blue
Tropics even if one were available, though. Not when he could afford better.

“I’m at your disposal,” he said. “If you want to hang out here
at The Flying Monkey all night, I’m game.”

She noticed he didn’t say he’d wait with her to see if Mike
showed up.

“I’m talking to the owner before I do anything,” she said.
“Follow my lead, okay? Kayla’s staking out that Santa statue tonight. I might
ask him about that, too.”

“Will you tell the owner you’re a private eye?”

“Shh.” She placed two fingers against his lips.

He went still, his eyes darkening as they gazed into hers. A
jolt seemed to travel from her fingertips throughout the rest of her body.

She broke the eye contact and let her hand fall away.
“Sometimes it’s smarter not to mention that.”

It hadn’t been smart to touch him. Her nerve endings still
tingled, blurring the boundaries she’d been trying to erect between them.

“Let’s go,” she said, entering the bar ahead of him.

On the back wall, Maria counted four posters of Ernest
Hemingway, the famous author who’d made Key West his home. Interspersed with the
posters were numerous photos of a bald man with a thick black beard posing with
the customers.

The bearded man in the photos was at the tap, pouring beer into
a mug. The monkey that was the bar’s namesake decorated his black muscle shirt.
The owner, Maria presumed. She asked Logan what he wanted to drink, then ordered
a beer and a glass of white wine.

“Coming right up,” the man said, filling the order quickly and
efficiently. He set the drinks on the counter in front of them. “Here you
go.”

“Keep the change.” Maria ignored the money Logan was trying to
hand her and paid him. “Before you go, do you know where I can find that Santa
statue somebody turned into a zombie?”

The bearded man chuckled. One of his front teeth had a gold
cap. “Corner of U.S. 1 and Duval. Zombie paint’s gone, though. Only the
god-awful statue remains.”

“You don’t like the statue?” Maria had noticed a Key West
Merchants Association sticker on one of the bar windows.

“Have you seen that thing?” he asked. “We’ve got a lot of tacky
stuff in Key West. We don’t need no more.”

“Is that a popular opinion among local businessmen?” she
asked.

“Popular enough.” He had to raise his voice to be heard above
the chatter and the music from the jukebox. “I thought Alex Suarez was about to
pop a vein when it went up.”

That was the guy who’d hired Kayla, the one the rookie private
investigator had a crush on.

“How about Mike DiMarco? What did he say?” Maria didn’t expect
that the bar owner would recognize the name but watched him carefully for a
reaction. Every now and again long shots paid off.

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “Can’t say I know
anybody by that name.”

Maria pulled out the age progression and placed it on the bar.
“He’s probably going by another name. Do you recognize him?”

The bar owner looked down at the photo, then back at her. “What
are you? A reporter?”

This was one of those times Maria wouldn’t gain any ground by
telling him she was a private investigator. “I’m his older sister.”

“The family’s lost track of him,” Logan interjected. Until now
he’d stood silently by, heeding Maria’s instructions to follow her lead. “She’s
worried.”

“I hear you.” The bearded man addressed Logan. “I’ve got a big
sister, too. She’s always checking up on me. Says she can’t help it.”

Maria pushed the paper toward him. “Somebody told us he might
be one of your regulars.”

The bar owner studied the image intensely. “This isn’t a photo.
What is it?”

“An age progression,” Maria said. “My brother’s been missing
for a while.”

His mouth twisted. “Kind of looks like Clem.”

“Clem?”

“Don’t know his last name. He shows up a couple times a week.
Offers to play his guitar for beer. Sometimes I let him.”

Maria’s heartbeat quickened. This dovetailed with the tip Logan
had received. Not only that, Mike had taken up the guitar during the last year
he’d lived at home. Sometimes he’d even jammed with friends. Once he’d claimed
he was getting good enough to play in a band.

“Does Clem come on any particular night?” she asked.

“Not Friday or Saturday,” he said. “I’ve already got live music
scheduled then. He usually comes in on Wednesday or Thursday.”

Today was Wednesday.

“What time?” Maria could barely contain her eagerness.

The bar owner thought about it. “Sometimes early, sometimes
late, sometimes not at all.”

“Hey, barkeep! Shut your trap and fetch me a beer,” yelled a
large, broad-shouldered woman a few seats away, thumping the bar for
emphasis.

“Hold your horses,” he yelled back. To Maria and Logan, he
said, “That’s my big sister.”

He left them to get her a beer, a smile on his lips. Another
time, Maria might have been amused at their interaction. Not now. Excitement
bubbled in her chest. Very soon she could be face-to-face with the brother she
thought she’d never see again. It was almost too much to process.

“I hope you didn’t mind my stepping in like that and backing up
what you said.”

She should. It was the second time he had done something like
that, the first being with the clerk at the post office.

“I didn’t mind,” she said. “Surprisingly, you’ve been a big
help.”

He laughed. “Surprisingly, huh? Well, I’ll take the faint
praise wherever I can get it.”

She felt her lips curl into a smile. Maintaining coolness
toward him was too hard when her hopes were so high. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I
can’t promise praise will keep coming.”

“Noted.” He tipped back his mug, his throat muscles working as
he drank the beer. He set the glass down on the bar. “What now?”

“Now,” she said, “we wait.”

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
L
OGAN
sat across from Maria at one of
the outdoor tables adjacent to the street as a waitress from The Flying Monkey
served them slices of key lime pie with dollops of whipped cream.

He’d suggested they have dinner while waiting for the guitarist
to show up, but Maria had barely touched her cheeseburger and fries. He hoped
she’d get something into her stomach, not only to soak up the wine she’d drunk
but to fortify herself for the blow that was coming.

He had little doubt that a guy named Clem in Key West resembled
the age progression. No way, however, was that guy Mike.

After the waitress left, Maria took a bite of key lime pie.
“This is actually good. I was starting to think I could be eating filet mignon
and not tasting it.”

Her gaze darted from the people walking by on the sidewalk to
those entering the bar, as it had since they’d sat down at the table.

Logan chewed a piece of pie and swallowed. “This is fantastic.
But then, I’ve always thought key lime pie was one of life’s great
pleasures.”

“The waiting’s still interminable,” she said.

A jukebox blared from inside the bar, the tune spilling out the
open doors to where they sat, loud but not loud enough to drown out
conversation.

“Talk to me,” he said. “It’ll pass the time.”

She popped another piece of pie into her mouth. Good. As long
as she was eating, he was happy. But then, maybe it was even less complicated
than that. She was dressed as casually as he was, in jeans and an ordinary blue
shirt, yet it was hard for him to not stare. He’d forgotten how stunning her
combination of black hair and blue eyes was.

No, correct that. He hadn’t forgotten. He’d blocked the mental
image from his mind.

She flipped her long hair over her shoulder, calling attention
to her eyes, small, straight nose and bow-shaped lips. The combination sometimes
made her look delicate, when he knew she was anything but.

“What should we talk about?” she asked.

A neutral topic, he thought. One that had nothing to do with
the guy she’d married or the brother she was fooling herself into believing was
alive.

“Tell me how you became a private investigator,” he said. “Back
in high school, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do.”

“Remember my uncle Jim, the cop?” She continued when he nodded.
“He told me about an opening to be a police dispatcher. I applied and got the
job. I liked it, but after a few years it wasn’t enough. I went to the police
academy and hooked on with the county sheriff’s department.”

“Why didn’t you stay on the job?”

“Too much red tape.” She twirled the stem of her wineglass.
“You know me. Sometimes I have a hard time playing by the rules.”

“I’m sensing a story.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “Not a happy one.”

“I’d like to hear it,” he said.

For long moments, she said nothing. Then she started to talk.
“One night about midnight a woman came into the station, frantic because her
twenty-five-year-old daughter hadn’t come home and she couldn’t reach her on her
cell. The woman had already called all her daughter’s friends and every hospital
in town and come up with nothing. She begged me to search for her.”

“Can’t you only do that if someone’s been missing for
twenty-four hours?”

“That was the department’s policy. People check out for a day
or two for all sorts of reasons, young adults especially. Most of the time they
turn up on their own. But there was something about the woman’s story that told
me this wouldn’t be one of those times. If I hadn’t been on desk duty, I would
have checked into it. But the two patrolmen working that night were sticklers
for the rules.”