Hot Secret (23 page)

Molly felt a momentary pang of guilt. She squashed it. “I get testy when I spend more than a week’s pay on a dress that with any luck I will not wear again in this lifetime.”

“At least you can save it for the Academy Awards or the Emmys, even the Miami Film Festival. Surely in your position with the film office sooner or later you’ll have to drag it out again. Where is a cop supposed to wear a tux?”

“Save it for your wedding,” she shot back. Considering Michael’s avowed status as an eligible bachelor, it was as close to a curse as Molly could come. The alarm in his eyes improved her mood considerably.
She linked her arm through his. “Toss down the last of that champagne and let’s go mingle.”

Actually, now that she was beginning to resign herself to an endless, tedious evening of polite chitchat and lavish praise of the canapés, Molly discovered that she could appreciate the setting, if not the reason for her presence.

For the event Liza had commandeered Vizcaya, the closest thing Miami had to a palace. Built on a grand scale, the winter home of industrialist James Deering faced Biscayne Bay, which dutifully shimmered like a sea of diamonds under the full moon. A soft breeze, laced with the tang of salt air, swept over the estate. Most of the crowd was milling around under a striped refreshment tent on the south lawn or walking through the surrounding gardens.

The romantic setting was perfect for stealing kisses or seducing the high rollers into parting with their money. Molly caught sight of Liza amid a cluster of Miami’s well-to-do socialites. They were all preening for the photographer from the morning paper. Liza’s dramatic, offbeat dress in a shade referred to as tangerine—at least in the produce section, if not on the fashion pages—looked as out of place in the midst of all those pastel beaded gowns and stiff hairdos as a bold bird of paradise would among sweet and fragile magnolia blossoms.

As she and Michael got close enough to identify the women, Molly guessed they would ante up a good one thousand dollars apiece before Liza let them escape. Most would consider it a small price to
pay to have their friends see them on the society page a few days from now.

Molly watched in amusement as Liza went into her hard sell.

“How does she do that?” Michael asked in wonder as checks changed hands.

“Liza has no shame when it comes to protecting the environment and any critter living in it. She will grovel, if she has to.”

“How much do you figure an event like this will net?”

“Forty thousand, maybe more,” she said as Michael’s eyes widened. “If Liza had actually chaired the event, she would have tried to lure a couple of celebrities into town. With a little star power, she could have doubled the profits.”

“Why didn’t she go for it, then?”

“Because, as I understand it, the chairwoman did not take kindly to suggestions from her committee.”

“The chairwoman is an egotistical idiot,” Liza muttered under her breath as she joined them just in time to catch the gist of the conversation.

“She did manage to get all the upper-crust scions of the oldest Miami families to turn out,” Molly reminded her.

“Sure, but she ignored the rest of the community,” Liza countered. “If a few of us hadn’t set out to corral people like you and Michael, we would have had to have a nurse on duty to hand out vitamins at the door or the whole crowd would have fallen asleep by nine.”

“Don’t you think you might be exaggerating
just a little bit?” Molly asked. “You’re just miffed because you wanted Julio Iglesias to sing and she’d never heard of him.”

“Forget Julio Iglesias. I doubt I could have talked her into inviting Wayne Newton.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss Michael’s cheek. “Thanks for coming, you two. Mingle. Have fun. I’ve got to go see if I can get old man Jeffries to cough up a few thousand bucks before he dies. I’ve heard he’s willing to save the manatees. Maybe I can get him together with Jimmy Buffet and put together a benefit concert.”

Liza disappeared around a hedge, leaving the two of them staring after her.

“Where does she find the energy?” Michael marveled.

“I think it takes about twenty minutes and the mention of a cause to recharge her batteries.” Molly glanced up. “Are you interested in checking out the buffet?”

He shook his head. A wicked gleam lit his dark brown eyes. “Not right now. I’m more in the mood to shock this stuffy crowd.”

“Oh?” Molly replied cautiously. The last time Michael had that look in his eyes he’d kissed her senseless.

“Follow me.”

He held out his hand, and after a momentary hesitation Molly took it. “Exactly what do you have in mind?”

“I intend to start by removing selective pieces of clothing.”

She stopped in her tracks. “You what?” It wouldn’t do to get too elated under the circumstances.
She had a discouraging feeling he wasn’t about to lure her into one of the mansion’s many bedrooms and have his way with her.

He grinned. “Scared, Molly?”

“Of you? Never!” she declared staunchly.

“Then let’s go.”

As they crossed the lawn, Molly’s pulse reached an anticipatory rate that would have her in the hospital down the block if it continued unchecked. The music drifted on the night breeze, swirling around them. The slow, romantic beat was counterpointed by laughter that grew more distant as they reached the shadowy fringes of the estate. Michael’s hand curved reassuringly around hers.

“Put your hand on my shoulder,” he instructed, standing before her. “Lift your foot.”

“Is this anything like that game where you put different body parts on different squares until everyone ends up on the ground in a tangle?”

“Sounds fascinating,” he said, “but no.” He removed her shoe and tucked it in his pocket. “Other foot.”

“Michael, I do not intend to romp around this place barefooted.”

“Careful, sweetheart. Your stuffy social graces are showing.”

In return for that remark, she nearly planted her spiked heel atop his foot. Unfortunately, as a volunteer soccer coach to say nothing of being witness to a fair amount of gunplay, Michael’s reflexes tended to be lightning quick. He stepped nimbly aside. Molly’s heel dug into the damp ground,
which effectively removed her shoe just as he’d intended in the first place.

He glanced at her stocking-clad feet. “How about those?”

“Is this one of those kinky things I’ve read about?”

“Last I heard there wasn’t anything kinky about sitting on a dock by the bay, but I’m game if you want to show me.”

“You would be,” she muttered darkly, trying not to let her disappointment show. Kinky with Michael O’Hara might have had its good points. She wasn’t about to be the one to initiate it, though. She glanced at the coral rock ledge, then at the water lapping gently against it. “You don’t actually expect me to sit on that, do you?”

“Of course not,” he said, sweeping off his jacket and spreading it before her.

Molly had a hunch the gesture wasn’t entirely due to gallantry. In fact, she was almost certain she heard him sigh with relief. She glanced from Michael to his quite probably ruined jacket, then to the water that seemed ominously dark in this shadowed corner.

“What do you suppose is in there?”

“A little seaweed. A few fish. Nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe you don’t consider having barracuda nibbling at your toes to be risky, but I’m not all that enchanted with the idea.”

“I doubt there are any barracuda lurking down there.”

“Not good enough,” she said. “I want conviction in your voice or my toes stay on land.”

“Ah, Molly. Where’s the romance in your soul?” he murmured just close enough to her ear to give her goose bumps. His finger trailed along her neck, then over her bare shoulder.

Molly shivered. She was entirely too responsive and Michael was entirely too skilled at this seduction stuff. Another five minutes and the society grand dames truly would have something to shock the daylights out of them. As an alternative, Molly practically dove for the coral rock ledge. She stuck her feet, stockings and all, into the bathwater warm bay.

Michael’s amused chuckle was entirely too predictable. As he sat down next to her she considered, for no more than an instant, tumbling him into the bay so he could cool off his … libido.

As if he guessed her thoughts, he grinned at her. “Don’t even think about it,” he said.

“What?” she inquired innocently. Suddenly something brushed past her foot, something considerably larger than a guppy or even a damned barracuda she thought, as a scream rose up in her throat and snagged.

“What,” she asked in a choked voice, “what is that?”

“What is what?” Michael said, instantly alert to the change in her voice.

She was already standing, water pooling at her feet as she pointed at the murky depths. “There’s something in there.”

“Probably just some seaweed.”

“I don’t think so. It felt …” She was at a loss for an accurate description. “Slimy.”

“That’s how seaweed feels,” he said, sounding so damned calm and rational she wanted to slug him.

“Does it also feel big?” she snapped.

“Big like a manatee? Maybe one is tangled in the mangroves.”

Molly wasn’t sure exactly how she knew that Michael was wrong, but she was certain of it. “Maybe we should go get a flashlight.”

“By the time we do, I’m sure whatever it is will be gone.”

“Michael, humor me. If it is a trapped manatee, we ought to free it or Liza will never forgive us. If it’s … something else, we ought to do, hell, I don’t know. Just get the flashlight. I’ll wait here,” she said before she realized that she’d be left alone with something that every instinct told her was very human and very dead.

Michael had taken two steps back toward the house, when she grabbed his arm. “Never mind. I’ll go for the flashlight. Give me your car keys. You stay here.”

His expression suddenly serious, he handed over the keys without argument, either to humor her or because his highly developed instincts for trouble had finally kicked in. “Don’t say a word to anyone, Molly. There’s no point in alarming everyone unnecessarily.”

She nodded, then took off across the lawn, oblivious to the stares she drew as she raced barefoot through the guests, across the central courtyard
of the house and down the driveway to the parking lot. It could have taken no more than ten minutes, fifteen at the outside, but it felt like an eternity before she made it back to where Michael was waiting. She’d grabbed a glass of champagne and chugged it down on the way. She had a hunch she was going to need it.

Michael took the flashlight from her trembling grasp and shone it onto the water in front of where they’d been sitting. At first it seemed she must have been mistaken as the glare picked up no more than a few strands of seaweed, a tangle of mangrove roots, a curved arm of driftwood. As the light skimmed across the surface and back again, Molly’s heart suddenly began to thud.

“There,” she whispered. “Move it back a little. See?”

What at first seemed to be no more than seaweed moved sensuously on the water’s surface. It was a distinctive three-carat diamond that finally caught the light, broke it into a hundred shimmering rays, and removed any lingering doubts about the exact nature of Molly’s discovery.

“Oh, my God,” Molly whispered, her gaze fixed on the glittering ring that she herself had once coveted at a charity auction. Though her stomach was pitching acid, she forced herself to look again, just to be sure.

Michael’s arm circled her waist. The flashlight wavered in his grasp and the light pooled at her feet, instead of on the water. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“As well as anyone would be after discovering
another body. For someone not even remotely interested in signing on for homicide investigations, I have a nasty suspicion I’ve seen almost as many murder victims as you have in the past few months.”

“Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions? We have no way of knowing whether the woman was murdered until we get the body out of there.”

“Trust me,” Molly said. “Tessa Lafferty would never willingly ruin her hairdo, to say nothing of her designer gown. If she felt ill, she would go home, send the dress to the secondhand store on consignment, and then climb between her two hundred dollar sheets and die. If she’s in that water, it’s because someone heaved her into the bay.”

“Isn’t Tessa Lafferty the woman Liza described as an idiot?”

She glared at him. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing. I’m just asking, purely for purposes of clarification, if it’s the same woman.”

“It is. But Liza would never kill her just because she didn’t want some Latin singer that Liza has the hots for to sing at this bash.”

“Did I say she would?”

“No, but I know how you think.”

“Do you really? How is that?”

“Like a cop.”

“Then I suppose you won’t mind obeying an official request.”

She regarded him warily. “Which is?”

“Go into the house and call the police.”

“Only if you promise that Liza will not be on
the list of suspects you turn over to the Miami police.”

“Sweetheart, you and I are on that list of suspects. Now move it.”

Molly didn’t waste time arguing that they provide tidy alibis for each other. She was more concerned with warning Liza that inviting a homicide detective to a charity function was just about the same as inviting trouble.