Yappy Hour (15 page)

“Maggie, you're here early. Everything okay with the filets last night?”

“Oh, yes, delicious. It's just that I wanted to talk to you about something.” I handed her one of the coffees.

She smiled and asked, “Are you a mind reader?” She took the lid off the coffee and let the steam release into the air. The smell of coffee alone seemed to wake her up.

“No, but maybe the clerk who made the coffee is; at the very least he's a magician.”

“Did he cough up your change?”

“Yup.”

“How does he do that?” she asked.

“I don't know, but I'd like to. I'd be coughing myself some rent money, a down payment for a car—”

Norma laughed. “Right. We could pay off all our bills.”

I sipped my coffee as Norma put away her mop bucket. “So, I wanted to ask you about Dan. You said something yesterday about him being difficult to deal with. I was hoping you could tell me more about him.”

“Ah. Poor Dan. Well, let's see. He was kind of a stick-in-the-mud. He wasn't from here, you know. He met Gus in San Francisco at the culinary academy. Gus was always a whiz at cooking, but Dan not so much. He sure understood the business matters though. He was always negotiating a tough margin. A few times, I lost money with him, and I was getting ready to cancel their account.”

“Cancel the DelVecchio restaurant account?”

“Yeah, I told Dan I didn't want to do business with him anymore, but that I'd work with Gus. He's a sweetheart, huh? And what a hunk.”

I looked away and felt myself blush. I didn't really want to get into a conversation about Gus, but it was difficult to avoid since he and Dan had been so close. I tried to focus on the question at hand, and not on what a hunk Gus was. I cleared my throat. “Did Gus know you were getting ready to cancel the account?”

Norma shrugged. “I don't know if Dan told him or not. I imagine he would have—or he should have, at any rate. But Gus hasn't said anything to me.”

An unsettling feeling zinged across my scalp. If Gus knew Dan was endangering his business, was that motive for murder? I couldn't imagine Gus hurting anyone, but was I being naïve?

I wandered over to the small rack of greeting cards and spun the carousel. The artist Coral was so talented that I was drawn to the cards, wanting to study each and every one of them. A postcard of one of the cruise ships departing from the dock caught my eye. I fingered the card, thinking of Rachel.

“Norma, I wanted to ask you about Max.”

Norma rearranged the collection of gourmet cheeses and chutneys in her front counter. “Oh? What about him?”

“Yesterday you said he had it out with Dan, but what did you mean? Like a fight?”

“Well, an argument or something,” Norma said. “I saw them exchanging words right here in front of the store. It didn't come to blows, but Max sure was angry about something.”

Well, that was something.

Maybe there was more motive in the town than met the eye.

After chatting with Norma, I decided it was time to pay Max a visit. I strolled down the Main Street, past the Soleado Cruise Line offices, moving as fast as I could, even holding my breath as I walked past. I didn't want to run into Jan, because I didn't want her to think I was stalking the place and, worse, I certainly didn't want to run into Sue, the agent, because she just might hex me.

I turned the corner in front of Designer Duds. The little chicken handbag was still in the window, along with the navy-blue jacket with white anchors embroidered on it. The store didn't open until the afternoon; at some point I'd have to come back and buy the jacket.

The sun was beginning to heat up and warm the air. It was still early, but the Dreamery Creamery was opening its doors. I stood behind a little girl with freckles and copper-colored hair. She wore a blue pinstriped dress and sandals. She smiled when I got behind her in line.

“The waffle cones are the best,” she said.

“What's your favorite flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip.” She grinned and I could see that some of her teeth were missing.

The girl working behind the counter had dyed burgundy hair and a long severe face. She reminded me of Evie Xtreme, the singer in the Howling Hounds. The girl said, “Hi, Coral, let me guess: mint chip on a waffle cone.”

“Mint chocolate chip,” Coral corrected.

“That's right,” the girl with the burgundy hair said.

Coral?

My heart stopped.

As in, the artist?

No, it couldn't be. She was just a child!

“Um, Coral, do you paint by any chance?” I asked.

Coral grinned at me. “Oh yeah! I paint the greeting cards and postcards that my mom sells at the Meat and Greet.”

“Norma is your mom?”

Coral nodded happily. “We're business partners. She's the Meat, I'm the Greet!”

I laughed. “I love your cards, I bought some the other day. I'd love to learn to paint like you.”

Coral's eyes grew wide, first at my compliment and next at the huge cone that the girl with burgundy hair was handing her.

“Make mine chocolate,” I said to the girl.

“After my cone, I'm going down the coves, to paint some more.” Coral indicated a small tote she was holding. “I usually like to go to the beach, but it's been too crowded since the cruise line came to town.”

“Really? Why's that?”

“They converted that stretch of beach into a port,” the cashier said. “So while the cruise line is great for business, it leaves us with less beach.”

I paid for my ice cream, and Coral's, too.

“You don't have to pay for mine,” Coral said. “I have my own money from my card sales.”

“I want to pay for it! Maybe you can give me a few painting pointers,” I said.

She smiled wide. “You like to paint?”

“More like I'd
like
to paint, but I don't. Math is my strong suit.”

Coral giggled. “I'll trade you painting pointers for a few math tips. Mom says I have to do math exercises all summer, otherwise I'm going to end up with a tutor.” She stuck her tongue out and made a face as if having a tutor stunk.

“Done,” I said. “I got you covered on the math.”

We sat at a small table near the front window and licked our ice cream. It was divine, creamy and rich, and felt like it was going straight to my hips.

“It's all in the eye,” Coral said. “I think all good painters need a good eye.”

“I've heard that before, but unless it's a slipped zero, I don't know that I have a good eye.”

“I do,” Coral said. “Like, even if my mom hadn't told me you were Rachel's sister, I'd know.”

“Your mom told you I was Rachel's sister?”

“Well, she just said you were in town, but you look a lot like her. Is she having fun on the cruise?”

My jaw dropped. How could this little girl know about Rachel and the cruise? “What do you mean?” I stuttered. “Why do you think she's on the cruise?”

“I saw her get on.” Coral dug into her tote. “Look, I even painted her.” She pulled out a card and slid it across the table at me. It was a stunning depiction of the back of a woman walking hand-in-hand with a tall man. The woman had my sister's honey-blond hair.

“Who was she with?” I asked.

Coral shrugged. “Her boyfriend, I guess.”

“Did you see him? Do you know who he is?”

Coral shook her head. “I don't know him.”

So Rachel had gone on the cruise after all? Why hadn't she been on the registry?

In my distraction, a small bead of ice cream slipped down my cone and landed directly on the postcard, right over Rachel's hair. “Oh, Coral, I'm so sorry!”

Coral laughed. “It's okay.”

I wiped ineffectually at the card.

Coral looked on. “Now she has dark hair! It looks like you in the card.”

“Let me buy it. How much for the postcard?”

Coral shrugged. “It's okay. You can buy me another ice cream tomorrow!”

I dropped the postcard into my bag. “It's a deal.”

When Coral and I left the Dreamery Creamery, I tripped on something in the doorway. I bent to pick it up. It was Bowser's pink plush bunny. I pinched it between my pointer finger and thumb in the way a mom would pick up a dirty diaper.

Coral laughed. “It's not going to bite you.”

“It's got beagle slobber on it. Gross factor to the max,” I said, then laughed at my pun.

Coral didn't get it, her face crinkling up in confusion. “What?” she asked.

“Never mind. Do you know where Max, the guy with beagle, lives?”

She squinted at me. “Max, the guy that walks the beagle with the Roundup Crew?”

“Yeah,” I said, plopping the sopping bunny into my bag. This would work perfectly. I'd return the bunny and grill him about his fight with Dan.

“He lives on the beach in the green house with the wraparound porch.”

I laughed. Coral didn't know the address, that involved numbers, but she could describe the house to a tee.

She dug into her tote and pulled out another postcard. “It's one of my favorite houses. He lets me sit on the porch and paint. The light there is amazing.” She fingered the card longingly as if she could pull the light right out of it through her fingertips.

“Thanks, Coral. I think
you
are amazing!”

 

Chapter Seventeen

The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden reflection off the Pacific, little rays of light shooting directly into my eyes. Why hadn't I brought my sunglasses? It had been early when I'd left the house this morning, but still, I should have known better. I squinted my way across the beach, shading my eyes with my hand. I was buffeted by the wind off the ocean. My hair swirling around whipped my cheeks. Sand kicked up and stung my eyes and stuck to my lips.

Ack.

Sometimes I hated the beach. It was days like that I missed the concrete jungle of New York. I felt, at times, that I enjoyed the beach more on an idyllic postcard, like the type painted by Coral, than the real thing.

The green house with the wraparound porch came into view. It seemed like a serene place, with a sprawling deck and a few Adirondack chairs. My sneakers were filling with the sand and it was getting hard to walk. I couldn't wait to reach the wooden deck. Once there, I immediately emptied my sneakers and dumped the sand back onto the beach.

I rang the front bell and waited. When no one answered, I walked across the back deck and knocked on the glass doors. I could see straight into the living room. Max was seated at a desk, engrossed in his computer. He startled at my knock. He wiggled his mouse and the computer screen went dark. He came to the back door, a smile lighting up his face when he saw me.

“Hi Maggie! You in the neighborhood?”

I dug out the pink plush bunny from my bag and handed it to Max. “This is getting to be a habit,” I said.

He laughed. “Oh no! Where was it?”

“In front of the Dreamery Creamery,” I said.

Max smiled. “Ah! That's where it went.” He waved me into the house. “Come on in, it's about time I took a break, and it looks like it'll be a scorcher today. Want a cocktail?”

I shook my head. “Too early.”

“No, it's not.” He smiled. “I'll make Bloody Marys, they're practically a health food.”

“They are?”

He gave me a mock frown. “Tomato juice? V8, I mean. Anything with vegetable juice is good for you, right?”

I laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, I can hardly argue.”

Following him into the large kitchen, I took the place in. His beach house was almost as immaculate as Gus's apartment. There were black granite counters and a large commercial-size oven. Gus would approve of this kitchen. My mouth watered thinking about the kind of meal Gus could cook here. After all, he whipped up a gourmet offering in Grunkly's limited space.

“Nice place,” I said.

Max smiled. “Thanks. It was a family vacation place, but I recently bought it from my folks and now it's global headquarters for my company.”

“Global headquarters?”

He laughed. “Okay, it's my home office. I have a small start-up. Just myself and one other developer.” He shifted uncomfortably as if he'd wanted to say more, but he didn't. He handed me a tall glass.

I sipped the cocktail.

“Delicious!” I said. “But I should have known.”

He smiled. “Ice and spice. My key ingredients.”

We marched out to the deck and sat in the pair of painted wooden Adirondack chairs. The sun was high over the Pacific and I thought jealously of Rachel. She was on a cruise, staring out at the azure water, while I was stuck here in Pacific Cove trying to unravel her mess. Okay, maybe it wasn't her mess, but I was definitely on the hook for watching her bar and her reputation.

Max looked out toward the water. “It's peaceful here, huh?”

I nodded. “Yeah, so peaceful it's shocking that a murderer is on the loose.”

He sat straighter and nervously ran a hand through his hair. “I heard a rumor that Dan died when his head hit the floor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don't know, really, just that maybe The Wine and Bark could be liable. I thought maybe that's why you came here. Maybe for an attorney referral.”

“I need an attorney?”

He shrugged. “I thought maybe that's why Rachel took off.…”

I sipped the cocktail; the spiciness suddenly seemed overwhelming. “Who'd you hear the rumor from?”

Max bit his lip. “Oh, I can't seem to recall. Anyway, if you need an attorney, go to Bradford and Blahnik.”

My heart plummeted at the thought of lawyers. Wasn't there a way I could get to the bottom of all this? I took a deep breath, then asked, “Did you know Dan very well?”