Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 06 - The Harbor of Lies (19 page)

Isabel flashed her an I-told-you-so look.

“Go ahead, say it.”

“Say what? That I said that from the beginning?”

“Yes, Isabel. You told me so, and I think you were right.”

“You’ll be fine once you and Colin finally say
I do
. Evan’s ghost will have no choice but to quit bothering you then.” Isabel smiled and patted Emily’s hand across the table. “Now, finish your chowder before we get back to the case.”

~*~

After lunch, Emily had finished telling Isabel about her suspicions, including that she thought Whitley’s pendant may, in fact, be a thumb drive with the missing information the Feds were after. So, they left the café and headed to the church, to visit Whitley at her office. Maybe they could get a closer look at it.

“Sorry, Whitley is gone for the day,” Pastor Jansen told them. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“We’d like her home address, if you don’t mind,” Emily replied.

“Well, I don’t normally give out that information, but these are extenuating circumstances, and I know she’s fond of you, Emily. Let me call the bookkeeper and get it for you.” The pastor went to the phone on the reception desk and made the call.

“What if she’s not there?” Isabel asked in a low voice.

Emily shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“There you go.” Pastor Jansen pulled a page off a small notepad and handed it to Emily. “It’s just a few blocks from here. Anything else?”

“That should do it.” Emily smiled. “If you see her, tell her I have some more questions about that pendant I liked so much.”

“Will do.”

The girls left and beat it over to the address on the note. They knocked and waited, then knocked again, but there was no answer.

“Where could she be?” Emily closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “The nursing home.”

“What nursing home?”

“Whitley’s mother is in a nursing home. She told me earlier she was going over there today to check in on her.”

“Do you have any idea where it is?” Isabel asked.

Emily pulled out her phone. “No, but the chief will.” She called him and got the name of the home, its address, and directions how to get there.

They walked a short four blocks and caught Whitley coming out the front door of the home as they approached. “Whitley!”

The young woman smiled as she saw them coming her way. “Emily, what a surprise.”

“Whitley, this is my friend, Isabel.”

The two shook hands and smiled politely.

Whitley was not wearing the pendant, which made Emily a little suspicious. “I don’t see that lovely necklace you had on earlier.”

“No, I gave it to my mother, temporarily. She was asking me all sorts of questions about it—how much it cost me, where I got it, who gave it to me? You know, like that. I thought it’d be best to avoid the whole unpleasant scene and I offered to let her wear it. She seemed happy with that.”

“Yes,” Isabel said, “my mother is exactly the same way.”

Emily recognized Isabel was attempting to identify with Whitley, to get her to relax and open up. She followed suit. “Yes, my mom, too.”

“I’ll be back tonight and figure out a way to get it back from her. Maybe she won’t even remember having it, dementia, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Emily really was sorry, knowing from experience what Whitley had to look forward to with her mother.

“Say, did you have any luck finding a necklace like it?” Whitley asked Emily.

“No, not yet. I was hoping to get a closer look at yours.”

“You’re welcome to take another look at it,” Whitley said, “but with my mom having it…it won’t be today.”

“How about tonight?” Isabel suggested. “We’ll be out on the town. You could give Emily a call when you’ve gotten it back and we can stop by.”

“Do you mind?” Emily asked. “It’s just that Colin and I are leaving on Sunday and—”

“Oh sure. No problem. That is, if I can get it back from her any time soon.”

~*~

Later that afternoon, while the men were still out fishing, Emily met Maggie in the lobby of the inn. She was dressed in tight jeans and a winter-white ski jacket over a snug-fitting turquoise sweater.

“Ready to go?” Emily pitched her head in the direction of the front desk, where Eric Malone stood, checking in a middle-aged couple.

Maggie nonchalantly glanced over as well, then brought her attention back to Emily. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Did you manage to fit the wire under that sweater?”

Maggie appraised herself then leaned in close enough to whisper to Emily. “I did. But why do I need to wear a wire? You think this is goin’ to get rough?”

“No, nothing to worry about.” Emily waved her hand casually at her friend. “But just to be safe, I’ve got the other end of it in my purse, with these little headphones.” She stuck one of them in her ear. “Let’s do a sound check. Say something.”

“What would you like me to say?”

“That was perfect. Loud and clear. Now, Maggie, I’ll be listening the whole time. If you need my help, just say the word
cinnamon
.”

A slight frown formed on Maggie’s brow. “Why would I say that?”

“Like a code word for
I need help
.”

“But that’s crazy. How would I use the word cinnamon?”

“You could say something like
it smells like cinnamon in here
, or something like that.”

“Okay, cinnamon.”

“Got the tracker?” Emily asked.

Maggie patted the front pocket of her form-fitting jeans.

“No, it’d be better if you stuck it in one of your jacket pockets,” Emily said, taking a quick peak at the front desk, “easier to get to it without our Mr. Malone noticing.”

Maggie complied. “There. Happy?”

Emily took another glance toward the manager. “Okay, you’re up.” She walked away and sat on one of the plush chairs in the lobby, watching Maggie sashay over to the front desk as the couple wandered off down the hall toward their room.

Chapter 18

Emily listened in as Maggie made small talk with Eric Malone at the front desk, asking about recommendations for restaurants and things to do around town. She asked him how long he had been the manager of the lovely Rock Harbor Inn and did he enjoy running such a magnificent place.

Eric appeared pleased that Maggie had stopped by. As the conversation went back and forth, Maggie got Eric to open up about his side business and how, in a year or two, he expected to be able to leave the inn and operate a small fleet of boats full-time.

Emily watched as Maggie leaned her ample breasts on the high counter as she oohed and aahed over his grand plans.

“Cruising from here to Boston? Oh my, that would be fabulous, Mr. Malone,” Maggie gushed.

“Oh, please, call me Eric.”

“Okay, Eric.”

Emily envisioned Maggie batting her big blue eyes at him.

“I’d love to see your big ol’ boat sometime,” Maggie went on. “I’ve never been on one before and yours just sounds so wonderful. Does it have a comfy cabin below?”

Emily couldn’t see Maggie’s face, but from the position of her body and the various expressions of interest on the manager’s face, she could tell Maggie was having quite an effect on the man.

“Yes, it has a spacious cabin below, with all the amenities—a kitchen, a nice bathroom, and a comfortable queen stateroom.”

“A big ol’ bed on a boat? Oh, I’d just
love
to see it,” Maggie said, drawing out the word love with her sexy Texas drawl.

Don’t push too hard, Maggie.

“You would?”

Even from across the lobby, Emily saw the man’s eyes light up.

“That is, if you have the time. I know you’re a big important man around this place.”

A broad smile spread across Eric’s face. “For you, I’ll make the time.”

“Of course, I’m only here for a short while though…”

Eric Malone peered down at his watch. “You know, I have a break coming, right about now.” His face spread into a wide grin. “Just let me get someone to watch the front desk here and I’ll take you down to see my boat.”

Before long, the manager brought a young woman up front to take over for him. Emily recognized her as the clerk who was there when she ran in to report the dead body on her deck.

“Shall we?” Eric made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the front door.

Maggie giggled. “Absolutely.”

The two walked out the door, heading for the driveway. Emily gave them a little space before she got up and followed them, at a safe distance, down to the docks.

~*~

“This is my boat,” Eric stated proudly, motioning toward the large forty-foot white trawler.

“Oh, Hoosier Daddy. That’s clever,” Maggie said, referring to the name of the boat.

“I
like it.” He took her hand and helped her over the gangway and onto the boat.

“It’s so pretty, all white and sparkly.” Maggie stuck her hands in her jacket pockets as she took a seat on the luxurious white cushions around the stern of the boat.

“We offer deluxe fishing excursions, in addition to the day cruises to and from Boston.”

“That sounds excitin’. Maybe I’ll take one of those cruises someday.”

“I think you’d find that it’s a comfortable long-distance cruiser, designed with seakeeping abilities in the open waters. The fantail stern here,” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “provides good buoyancy in a following sea.”

Even listening through the earphones, it was obvious Eric was trying to impress Maggie.

“Seakeepin’ abilities? A followin’ sea?” Maggie questioned. “You lost me.”

“Seakeeping waters means the open ocean and a following sea is, well, when the sea is coming from astern, over the back of the boat—following.”

“Oh m’gosh, that sounds dangerous. Like that movie
The Perfect Storm
. Did you see that movie? Scared me to death. Have you taken this boat out in dangerous waters like that?”

He sat down beside her. “Well, no. I’ve never actually had to test it out in an angry storm, but that’s what the man who sold it to me said.”

From where Emily had stopped and hidden herself near the dock, she watched the interaction between Maggie and Eric. She felt her coat pocket, where she had tucked her gun, in case she had to rescue her friend.

“What kind of boat is that really big one over there?” Maggie asked, pointing toward a vessel a good five times the size of the Hoosier Daddy.

Emily assumed Maggie was taking the opportunity of making Eric look away to pull the tracker out of her pocket and stuff it down between two cushions—at least, she hoped so.

Eric stood and looked to where Maggie had pointed. “That’s a whale watcher,” he replied, turning back to Maggie and taking a seat again. “If you’re going to be here long enough, that would be a fun thing for you and your friends to do.”

“It’s getting kind of chilly out here.” Maggie pulled her jacket tighter around her chest. “How about a tour of the cabin?”

“Sure. Right this way.” Eric opened the door that led below and held it for her.

Maggie descended the few steps. “Oh!” she gasped loudly.

Emily had moved down to the dock, waiting about thirty feet away, pretending to be looking at the boats. At Maggie’s gasp, her senses perked up, detecting possible danger.

“Hello there,” Maggie went on. “I wasn’t expectin’ anyone down here.”

Who was there?

Eric stepped down right behind Maggie. “Hey, Rosco. I didn’t know you’d be here. He’s one of my employees who runs the boat for me. He didn’t scare you, did he?”

Emily inched closer to Hoosier Daddy, her hand on the weapon in her pocket.

“A little startled, is all.”

“Just cleaning up, boss, getting ready for the next trip.” Rosco grunted. There was a gruffness to his voice that sounded like trouble. “I’ll come back later.” He came up out of the cabin and stepped off the boat, onto the dock.

Thank goodness.

But what if he recognized Emily?
She struck up a quick conversation with an older couple lounging on their boat nearby, asking them about the area, while keeping her back to Rosco, until he stomped off past her.

That was close.

“Eric,” Maggie’s voice drew Emily back to her friend on the boat, “your man didn’t seem to like me bein’ here.”

“Don’t mind him. He doesn’t like anyone.”

“Then why do you keep him around? I’d think he would offend your customers.”

“He pretty much keeps to himself. He maintains the boat and keeps it clean when he’s not behind the controls, piloting her. Now, my other guy, Caleb, he’s the one who caters to the guests. He’s more the people person. You’d like him.”

As she listened to Eric talk about Caleb, Emily thought about him and his sister, Whitley. She prayed he wasn’t involved in trafficking heroin—for Whitley’s sake. But only time would tell, as this operation played out. If he was, regardless of their mother depending on him to cover the cost of her care, he would have to pay for his part in the crime.

“Let me give you a quick tour. This here is one of the two staterooms. Pretty sweet, huh?”

“Ooh, big bed for a boat,” Maggie gushed.

“And very comfortable,” he cleared his throat, “or so I’ve heard.”

Did he say
bed
?
Whitley had told Emily that Eric had tried to come on to her, here on his boat. Emily was getting nervous. “Come on,” she murmured under her breath. “The tracker is planted, now get out of there, Maggie.”

“It’s a beautiful boat, Eric. You could fit a lot of folks down here.”

“That’s how you make money with this thing. The more you can carry, the better,” he said. “Go ahead. Sit on the bed and see how you like it? Lay down, if you want.”

Oh no. “Be smart, Maggie.”

Emily heard a
ping
.

“That’s my phone,” Eric said. “Text message. I better check it.” He paused a moment. “Well, I’ve got to get back to the inn. Someone’s asking for me.”

“Yes, I have to get back too. My friends will be expectin’ me.”

Emily scooted up the dock, toward the inn, when she heard them talk about leaving. Partially hidden by the rock wall, she watched as Eric helped Maggie over the gangway and onto the dock. “Thank you so much, Eric,” Emily heard Maggie say.