Beach Bags and Burglaries (A Haley Randolph Mystery) (5 page)

I eased closer to my door, more than ready to end this little talk, but Tabitha was having none of it.

“Where did you ... find her?” she asked. “It wasn’t on the cliffs, was it?”

“No,” I said, thinking it better I didn’t go into too much detail.

“Jaslyn wouldn’t have gone up there unless ...”

She stopped.

I hate it when that happens.

“Unless what?” I asked.

Tabitha shook her head as if dismissing the thought she’d had, then a few seconds later she seemed to change her mind again.

“Unless her boyfriend made her,” she said. “He was always trying to get her to go up there. But if you didn’t find her there, I guess it’s okay.”

So Avery was wrong about employees dating each other. Surprise, surprise.

“She had a boyfriend?” I asked.

“Just some guy,” Tabitha said.

She looked at me for a few seconds, then backed away.

“Okay, well, thanks,” she said.

Tabitha looked only marginally more relieved than when we’d started talking. But I didn’t know anything else I could tell her.

I went into my room, took a quick shower, and dressed in white capris, a yellow T-shirt, and flip-flops. I didn’t hear Bella moving around in her adjoining room, so I knocked. I got no answer, so I figured she was already in the lobby. I slid my resort pass into my pocket and headed downstairs.

Just as I stepped into the lobby I spotted a guy heading my way. Kind of tall, late twenties, shaggy brown hair, good-looking. He had on rumpled khaki pants and a stretched-out blue polo shirt.

Hang on a minute.

I’d seen those clothes before.

He saw me in the same second and froze. I froze too because, oh my God, I knew him. It was Ben Oliver, a reporter for the
L.A. Daily Courier
. We had history—sort of. What the heck was he doing here?

He didn’t give me a chance to ask. Ben spun around and took off, heading for the door.

No way was I letting that happen. I took off after him.

I dashed across the lobby and out the hotel’s front entrance, and caught a glimpse of something blue disappear behind a planter of ferns. I followed, weaving my way down the path and around all the plants, then skidded to a stop beside a fountain with a sea horse shooting water from its nose. No sign of Ben. I’d lost him.

Still, I wasn’t giving up. I was about to bolt to the right when a hand touched my arm. I whirled around, ready to grill Ben on why he was here.

Only it wasn’t Ben.

It was Luke Warner.

“H
aley.”

Luke said my name in a mellow voice that made my stomach feel gooey and my toes curl. But I didn’t want a gooey stomach or curling toes. This was a no-men vacation, and if I felt those things while I was here I sure as heck didn’t want Luke to be the one who caused them—not after what he’d done the last time we were together.

“Luke,” I said, and, darn it, my voice sounded all gooey and toe-curly.

He had on khaki cargo shorts and a shirt with palm trees on it, standard resort wear that somehow made him look more rugged and masculine. The breeze ruffled his dark hair

“How have you been?” he asked.

Luke had the most awesome green eyes. They seemed to look straight through me, somehow, and see my inner thoughts—or maybe that was his FBI training.

“Great. I’ve been great,” I said.

It wasn’t really true, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell Luke what my life had been like lately.

“How about you?” I asked.

He nodded thoughtfully and said, “Okay. Just okay.”

His gaze drilled me as if he were trying to convey some deeper meaning. I figured he was thinking about how, the last time we saw each other, he’d tried to make things up to me and had asked for a second chance, but I was having none of it—
that’s
how upset I’d been with him.

Luke angled closer and asked, “What brings you here?”

Oh my God, he smelled great.

“Vacation,” I said, and it came out sounding kind of squeaky.

“Are you ... with someone?” he asked.

“Friends,” I said.

He looked relieved that I wasn’t here with a boyfriend—or maybe that was just my imagination.

“I’m here for a wedding. A buddy from college,” he said.

Was that a weird coincidence or what?

We just stood there for a few seconds looking at each other and not talking—this wasn’t my first junior high moment with Luke—then we both seemed to realize it at the same time.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Luke said.

“Maybe,” I said.

We gazed into each other’s eyes for another couple of seconds, then Luke stepped back.

“See you,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied, and walked away.

Oh my God, where was Marcie at a time like this? I absolutely
had
to tell her what had just happened. She had to help me interpret every word, every look, every gesture.

I took off down the pathway, not sure where I was going as thoughts of Luke raged in my mind.

He was here to attend a wedding? At the same time I was here on vacation? Now Luke and I were linked together. We’d found each other on this remote island. Did that mean we were destined to be together? Was it just a crazy coincidence? Was this some sort of sign?

Was I getting carried away?

I slowed my steps, drew in a couple of deep breaths, and tried to calm myself—something I’m not really good at.

Oh my God, I desperately needed a mocha Frappuccino from Starbucks.

I was going to have to ask Avery to have one flown in from the mainland—it was the only way I could deal with this Luke thing.

I whipped around and headed back toward the hotel entrance, and noticed a flash of blue through a trellis of bright red blooms. I circled back and spotted Ben Oliver in a little alcove of flowers, parked on a bench, pounding away on his laptop.

So it was him I’d seen inside the hotel earlier. I knew it.

But what was a reporter for the
L.A. Daily Courier
doing here? Could he simply be vacationing on the island? I doubted it. Ben didn’t give the impression that he was flush and could afford a place like this, where a day’s stay could cost more than an average family’s mortgage payment, not judging from the clothes he wore, anyway—I was pretty sure he had on the same khaki pants and blue polo shirt I’d seen him wearing several months ago.

If Ben wasn’t vacationing, he must be here investigating a story. But that didn’t make sense, either. The Rowan Resort would never—
never
—allow a reporter on their property. The privacy of their guests was their top priority.

So why was he here?

I decided to ask him.

I walked closer and said, “Hi, Ben.”

His head jerked up, his eyes widened, and he shouted, “Get away from me!”

Wow, was that a different reception than I’d gotten from Luke or what?

“I just want to talk—”

“Stay back!”

Ben slammed the lid on his laptop and sprang to his feet. He lurched right. I jumped in front of him. He cut left, cradling his laptop to his chest and holding out his other hand like a running back going down field for a touchdown. I went with him, blocking his escape.

“Why are you being such an idiot?” I asked.

“Because I don’t want you to ruin my life—again!” he told me.

“I didn’t ruin you life,” I insisted.

“Yes, you did!”

Okay, he was right. Kind of. But it wasn’t all my fault. Really.

A few months ago I’d given Ben some hot tips on breaking news—long story—that should have propelled him to the top of the newspaper journalist world—whatever that was—but things hadn’t worked out exactly as I’d thought they would. In fact, they’d gone sideways big-time and, to put it mildly, Ben’s editor hadn’t been pleased. Ben had ended up covering chili cook-offs, community Little Miss pageants, and craft projects at retirement homes.

Ben hadn’t seemed to appreciate the effort I’d put into feeding him those potential career-making stories, for some reason, and had blamed me for all the bad things that had happened to him. Seems he was still holding a grudge.

“Look,” Ben said, “just stay away from me.”

He circled around me and disappeared.

Yeah, okay, I guess it made sense that Ben would be a little miffed at me, but jeez, he seemed to be holding on to his anger a little too tightly.

Or maybe something else was going on. Was he here investigating the disappearance and death of Jaslyn Gordon?

The idea zinged around in my head for a few minutes—and I hadn’t even had a mocha Frappuccino—until I finally decided that even if that was the reason for Ben’s presence at the resort, it had nothing to do with me. I didn’t know Jaslyn, I wasn’t involved, and I didn’t have reason to become involved. In fact, if the rumors I’d heard were correct, the whole thing was an unfortunate accident. End of story—except that I still needed a mocha Frappuccino.

I found my way back to the hotel’s front entrance, went into the lobby, and stopped dead in my tracks. Oh my God—a Sea Vixen.

My heart rate picked up. My breathing got shallow.

There it sat on the floor beside a chair in all its polka dot glory. The blue, orange, yellow, and green mesmerized me, drawing me across the lobby as if in a trance. I drew closer, arms extended, my fingertips tingling. Within seconds, it would be mine.

“Oh, hi there,” somebody said.

My world shattered. I blinked back to reality and saw a woman sitting in the chair. Oh my God, the Sea Vixen belonged to her.

Her?
How could that be? She was old—like fifty, or something. She had on—yikes!—those were shorts I’d seen on the rack at Holt’s, and Holt’s sold the most hideous clothing known to mankind. How could she have a Sea Vixen? She didn’t deserve it. Not like I did.

Maybe I could just take it. I glanced at the hotel’s entrance and considered making a break for it. She was old. She couldn’t possibly move very fast. I could lose her in a heartbeat. Except this was an island. Where would I run to? She’d find me sooner or later.

I hate it when that happens.

“I’m Geraldine,” she said with a big smile. “From the welcome center. Harvey and I met you and your friends there. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I said, forcing myself to calm down. I pointed to the Sea Vixen. “I love your bag.”

“Isn’t it just the cutest thing?” Geraldine said. “I saw it and just had to have it, even though it cost a small fortune. But Harvey said I should get it. It’s my one impulse buy here.”

If I’d had floppy, pointed Scooby-Doo ears, they would have shot straight up.

“Here?” I asked. I might have said that a little too loud.

“Why, yes,” Geraldine said.

“At the resort?” I think I shouted that.

“Yes,” she said, and pointed toward the rear of the hotel. “At one of the shops.”

“Which one?” I screamed that.

Geraldine drew back a little. I forced myself to calm down.

“Sorry,” I said.

She waved away my apology and said, “Don’t give it a thought. Everyone is on edge, what with that poor girl getting murdered.”

The death of Jaslyn Gordon rushed into my brain crowding out the vision of the Sea Vixen.

“I thought it was an accident,” I said.

“Oh, no,” Geraldine said, and gestured to her smartphone lying on her lap. “I just read it online. The police announced that she was murdered. Hit on the head with something, probably a rock.”

Wow, news—particularly bad news—really traveled fast these days. Only a few hours ago the police were saying it was an accident—or that’s what Avery had told me. It made me wonder if she actually knew the real story, or if that was what the resort management had instructed their employees to report.

“They have a suspect,” Geraldine said.

Oh, crap. I hope it wasn’t
me
.

“And they’re working on leads,” she said. “That’s what the report said online, anyway.”

Luke Warner flashed in my head. He was an FBI agent. He’d worked undercover—which was what had caused our whole problem a few months ago. Was the story he’d told me about being here for a wedding the truth? Or was he really here undercover?

And what about Ben Oliver? No way was he here for vacation, so he must be undercover too, following a story.

Both Luke and Ben were working undercover? How come I couldn’t do something cool like that? I wanted to be undercover somewhere, too.

Maybe I need to reevaluate my life.

“Shh,” Geraldine said, and lowered her voice. “Here comes Harvey,”

I followed her line of vision and saw her husband approach. Harvey looked a lot like Geraldine, both graying, both with thick middles, both wearing ho-hum resort wear.

“Don’t say anything to him about that girl being murdered,” Geraldine whispered. “Harvey doesn’t want to hear anything bad on vacation.”

Can’t say that I blame him.

Harvey joined us, and I introduced myself. If he remembered me from the welcome center, he gave no indication.

“Great place, great place,” he said, gesturing to the hotel in general. “Have you seen the library?”

This place had a library?

“The Rowan estate has an impressive book collection,” he said.

Somebody wanted to spend their vacation reading?

“Several pieces of art are in there, too,” he added.

And looking at art?

Maybe I should go to Disneyland next time.

“There’s an art curator on the premises at all times,” Geraldine said. “I read it in the resort brochure. One of the members of the Rowan family.”

“The art collection on display here at the resort is extensive,” Harvey said.

“Sidney Rowan was an avid collector,” Geraldine added.

“Do you enjoy art, Haley?” Harvey asked.

Did doodling on an Etch-A-Sketch count?

“You can take lessons right here at the resort,” Geraldine said, then paused for a few seconds and said, “Maybe I’ll do that. You should too, Haley. It’s very relaxing.”

I thought about it for a second. Sitting in front of an easel dabbing paint onto a canvas always made a person look superintellectual—almost as much as sitting in Starbucks, wearing a scarf, and typing on a laptop.

“I’ll check it out,” I said.

“Let’s have a look at the restaurants,” Harvey said. “I want to see them all so we can decide where to have dinner.”

“Will you join us, Haley?” Geraldine asked.

“No, thanks, I’m meeting friends,” I said, and glanced around the lobby. Where the heck was Bella, anyway?

Geraldine rose, picked up the Sea Vixen, and left with Harvey.

My senses jumped to high alert. Geraldine had said she’d found a Sea Vixen at one of the resort’s shops. I had to find it.

I was about to take off when I saw Sandy and Marcie walk into the lobby from outside. They were still dressed in their beachwear, and seemed to be involved in a deep discussion.

“We’ll let Haley decide,” Sandy said as they walked up.

Marcie gave her a have-at-it wave.

“I met this guy on the beach,” Sandy said. “His name is Sebastian and he works here. I didn’t want to talk to him, and Marcie thinks I should have.”

“It was only a conversation,” Marcie said. “Besides, he was really good-looking.”

“Vacation flings never work out,” Sandy said.

How had I gotten into the middle of this?

“He liked you,” Marcie said.

I had to find a Sea Vixen tote.

“I already have a boyfriend,” Sandy insisted. “Besides, this is our no-men vacation. Right, Haley?”

The vision of the very last tote being snatched from the shelf while I stood here zapped my brain.

“Right, Haley?” Sandy asked again.

I had to get this discussion over with so I could find that shop.

“Right,” I said.

“See?” Sandy said. “Haley is committed to our pact, and so am I. She didn’t run after a good-looking man today, did you, Haley?”

Jeez, did hunting down Ben count?

“Or get all crazy and girlie because a good-looking man talked to her,” Sandy said. “Right, Haley?”

Had I gotten all crazy and girlie talking to Luke Warner?

“Haley?” Sandy asked.

Yikes! I had.

They both stared at me, waiting for an answer. But I couldn’t tell them the truth.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to respond, because Bella appeared out of nowhere and pushed her way into our group.

“This is b.s.,” Bella announced, scowling and planting her hands on her hips.

I’d seen Bella angry only one time—and it wasn’t pretty.

Sandy gasped. “What happened?”

“I was robbed,” Bella declared. “Somebody stole my lucky panties.”