Chapter 18

Zoe lay still and mentally sorted what she'd discovered.

Whenever she had time off, she staked out the homes of the men who were there the day Seth was murdered. She took pictures with Dane's camera. It was one Seth would approve of. Dane came with her every time, reminding her he was the boss and set his own hours. The elbow jabs, looks, and eye rolls from the other employees increased exponentially from the obvious way they often left at the same time.

Since the public school superintendent wasn't married, and the realtor wasn't married to a woman, they focused on the other four that were in Seth's diving group the day he was murdered.

They doubted Seth's involvement with Blake Eaton's beach bunny, trophy wife, but the mayor's wife could be a possibility. As well as the police chief's and the town historian's wife. Pictures of each were taped to the pad of paper Zoe had deemed the investigation notebook. She thumbed through it as Dane breathed deeply next to her.

The sun wasn't up yet. Her beach walks three days a week made it difficult to sleep in on the other four days. Luckily, the moon shone through the blinds enough for her to read her notes without turning the light on. She was going to buy a book light the next time they hit the store.

They.

The knee-jerk internal reference made her set her pad of paper on her chest and turn her head toward him. Dane Corbin was in her bed. And had been every night for weeks. They were in love. When had her life turned upside down?

He slept splayed with one of his legs draped over hers. It kept her grounded and warm both metaphorically and literally. His arm sprawled around her head, with his hand resting on her opposite shoulder. She used his tattooed bicep as a pillow.

When they were together, she never thought about the locks on her windows. Or felt the woman as she attacked from behind, then pushed her into Willow's old cello.

His eyelids fluttered twice, then opened. The first thing she noticed was the striking blue as it practically glowed in the dark. He was searching for her. She smiled as he found her, then focused his beautiful sleepy eyes. His hair was a disaster and adorable bags sat beneath his eyes telling them both it was too early to be awake.

"You're an early riser," he croaked.

"Did I wake you?"

He shook his head and pulled her into him. Resting her head on his chest, his sail boat tattoo stabbed holes into her heart. He was long overdue for a trip. She wasn't that kind of woman, was she? The kind who tried to keep her man chained to her? He should be out on a boat with Lucky Nemo if that's what he wanted.

She propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him. "When are you heading out for your next treasure hunt? I've seen the maps and journals you leave up on your computer." She sounded like a stalker. "Not that I'm reading your stuff. I'm not. I just think you should get out. Did you and Lucky make a plan when he was here?" She was rambling a mile a minute at 5 a.m. when he'd barely gotten a chance to fully open his eyes. He had every right to bolt out the door and never come back.

Instead, he looked up at the ceiling and wrapped his arms around her tighter. Kissing the top of her head, he answered her battery of questions. "I don't have plans for another trip. The maps and journals I'm looking at are about Luciana's Dowry. I'm curious. And I'm not leaving you until this is settled."

He was leaving her after 'this is settled?' She was reading too much into his statement. Worse yet, she knew she was but couldn't help it.

"I'm going to track Mrs. Green this morning."

"The mayor's wife?"

"Yes. The pictures we have of her are from far away. I'm going to go and see if she leaves anywhere on her Tuesday mornings. Maybe I can catch her at the store or at one of the coffee shops. Then, I'm going to visit my mother, and then I'm going to corner Matt. We have information he could use... sort of. He needs to reciprocate."

He kissed her ear lobe, then trailed his hands down and cupped her backside. Holy sea turtles. Treasure hunt what? Mrs. Green who? She smiled into his chest. "Are you sure you don't want more sleep?"

He pulled her completely on top of him.

Oh. "I guess you're sure."

* * *

The goats had already been led up the winding path to the roof for the day. Dew dripped down the leaves of the palm tree that stood in the corner of her parents' front yard. Zoe parked in the street, then looked up to the sky. Not a cloud in sight, but that could be deceiving. An Ibis Island storm could erupt from a cloudless sky in minutes. She'd checked the weather app on her phone when she was staking out Mrs. Green's home like some sort of PI. A PI or a criminal. No rain in sight for this PI/criminal. So, she left the soft top of her Jeep down.

Zoe decided her morning thus far was a success. She was able to—possibly criminally—follow Mrs. Green to the bank. Mrs. Green didn't give Zoe a look like she was the person she'd attacked during a break-in. Although they ran in different circles and different socio-economic statuses, Mrs. Green seemed to be a lovely woman. Confident, beautiful, polite.

Zoe picked some lemon balm leaves from the pot on the front porch on her way into her parents' house. "Hello," she called as she entered.

"Back here, dear." It was her mother's voice.

She found her parents sitting in the four seasons room they added to the back of the house when Zoe was in second grade. Glass on three sides, her mother sat in beams of sunlight reading a book with her legs propped on Zoe's father's lap. It reminded Zoe of sitting in her living room with Dane.

"No Dane?" her father asked. Speak of the devil.

Zoe plopped down on the window seat across from them. "He lets me out alone in broad daylight, if I'm in a public place... or if I want to visit my parents."

Without moving her eyes from her book, Zoe's mother added, "I always knew he was a good boy."

It made Zoe's brows drop. "You did, didn't you?"

"It's easy to see what's in a person's heart."

No it wasn't, Zoe thought, as her father took her mother's hand in his. It was an unconscious movement. A physical connection between two people who loved each other. It was beyond Zoe's mental peripheral vision to imagine sitting like that with Dane thirty-some odd years from now.

"You fit well together. The way you move around each other is like a dance between two people in love. Oh, you brought in lemon balm leaves." Her mother tossed her legs from Zoe's father as quick as a schoolgirl. "I'll heat some water."

As she headed to the kitchen, her mother added, "Detective Osborne called. He wants me to have a funeral."

What? "That's none of his business." Zoe tried not to sound as irritated as she was. She was definitely beginning to look at Matt as Raine looked at all police officers.

"That's what I said, dear. They won't even give us Seth's remains, and they want us to have a funeral. I told him we were planning on spreading what little ashes we'll have over the Gulf during an intimate celebration of life."

"He thinks it will fish out Seth's mistress," Zoe said as a statement. She didn't want to admit it, but it was a good idea.

* * *

Zoe approached the Sun Trips pier with a pontoon loaded full of snorkeling/eco tour passengers. They had their beach bags over their shoulders and their sand dollars in their hands. The word that came to mind was Matt's, 'lame.' She missed taking out scuba groups. Consequences.

To make matters worse, Dane wouldn't be waiting for her when she docked. He and Liam were out with a not-lame group of six customers completing the last portion of their scuba diving certification requirements. She missed it like she'd lost a best friend.

A man stood by the picnic table in the shelter created for customers who waited for a boat tour. As she approached, she made out the dress pants and gun holster. Matt.

She trolled close to the pier, assuming he would tie up the pontoon for her. Then, she remembered he was from Chicago. "Thank you for using Sun Trips Touring, ladies and gentlemen," she said as she hopped out and tied the boat herself. "I hope you enjoyed your ride. We have bathrooms just inside the doors and to the right."

"Hello, Matt." She suspected why he was here. "I'll be just a minute."

"Can I give you a hand?" Now, he asks. She smiled at his naivety. "I've got it, thanks."

He backed off and sat on the picnic table while Zoe prepared the boat for the evening party tour. He was here about the funeral, she assumed. He was going to try and get her to convince her mother to hold a funeral.

After turning in the tips jar, she chose a spot across the table from him and slung her legs over the long seat. "What can I do for you?" she asked honestly.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?"

She looked around. No one was within earshot. "Here's as good as any. What's up?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "You've been staking out suspects."

Well. She didn't see that one coming. Tilting her head, she considered. "The only way you would know that is if you were staking them out, too."

"Not me personally."

"Same difference."

He sighed. "So... did you learn anything?"

"Oh no, you don't. This time it's you share, I share." She folded her hands and placed them on the table for added emphasis.

"This is a murder investigation, Zoe."

"That's right. The murder of my brother."

Another heavy sigh. "The murder weapon was an antique knife."

Her brows lifted. She never actually expected him to cave. And so quickly.

"What does that mean?"

"It leads to some possibilities."

"Like?"

"Your turn."

Ah. "I can't see Seth with Blake Eaton's wife. She's too young and too blonde, if you know what I mean."

He nodded.

"We've already discounted Richard Beckett, the realtor, and Timothy Hart, the school superintendent. That leaves the mayor's wife, Mrs. Green, the town historian's wife, Mrs. Oberweiss and Chief Robert's wife. Mrs. Green is very nice, but I'm not sure, and I haven't gotten a close up of Mrs. Oberweiss or Mrs. Roberts."

"Good to know."

"Your turn," she reminded him.

"If you're going to plan a murder, the best murder weapon... if you're a murderer... is a common knife, like a steak knife from a large restaurant chain. The fact that the knife was unique leads me to believe the murder wasn't planned."

"Have you identified the knife?"

"No. I've combed through historical journals and books and can't find a match. I've found some that are close. It seems to be from the 18th century." He paused and stared at her. "I'd like for your family to hold a public funeral for your brother."

There it was. "We're Clearwaters. A private celebration of life, maybe. A public funeral?" She shook her head.

"I need to try and flush out the mistress."

It was her turn to sigh heavily. She looked out over the water. Choppy and shadowed with cloud cover. "You really think it would help?"

"I do, yes."

"I might be able to convince my mother it would help solve the case."

He looked around as if someone may have suddenly came within earshot. "I tried that tactic."

"You're not a woman."

"Thankfully this is true. I want that funeral. I'm trusting you, because I need you. And because this is about your brother." He took her hand. It wasn't sensual. He was a friend. A good friend.

Hoots and hollers came from the water. They turned their heads to a boat full of newly certified scuba divers as it approached the pier. Liam maneuvered the ski boat behind the pontoon as Dane signed papers. Four men and two women. All over forty, if she had to guess. They were positively beaming. She should be happy for them. But she wasn't. At that moment she was all about pity. Pity for her brother. Pity for the woman he left behind. Pity for her mother who would have to face a public circus held in honor of her son. And pity for herself and the life she'd left behind.