Today’s goals: Serve at Sarge’s memorial service. Find answers. Stop thinking about Ty.
Cassidy sold ice cream that morning until it was time for the party. It would be a casual yet fancy affair at Walter Hamby’s beach house. A time for reflection yet a celebration of life. Lisa had gone over all the details with her.
Cassidy desperately wanted to talk to Stan while she was there. He was her best option as a suspect, but she would keep her eyes wide open. Besides, there was also Madison. Had she been seeing Sarge on the side? It would only give Stan more motive.
At noon, Serena showed up to pick up Elsa. Cassidy wondered if the college student knew about the history of the ice cream truck. Cassidy would guess she didn’t.
She met Serena in the driveway, soaking in the girl. Today, Serena was dressed in all black and wore dark, stark makeup that made her look pale and gaunt.
Cassidy dangled the keys in mid-air. “You keep changing your look.”
Serena shrugged like it was no big deal. “Someone once said we should reinvent ourselves thirty times within our lifetime. I think it’s a great idea.”
Cassidy stared at her, waiting for her to continue. Because that made no sense to her. Reinventing herself twice had been hard enough for Cassidy.
Serena sobered and let out a sigh. “It’s like this. I don’t know who I am. I’ve always been the person my parents wanted me to be. And I don’t know if that’s who I am at all. And then I went to college, and I was the person my friends wanted me to be. But that didn’t feel real either. The truth is, I have no idea. Sometimes, I feel brave and bold. Other times, I feel quiet and reflective. Sometimes I can be shy, and other times I can’t stop talking. Am I making any sense?”
Unfortunately, she was. Cassidy, though years ahead of Serena in age, could relate all too well. “Yeah, it does make sense. You should figure out who you are, Serena. Just remember that, like it or not, we’re defined by the choices we make.”
Another inspirational quote. Of course.
It didn’t matter who Serena decided to be. People would define her by what she did. Actions, after all, spoke louder than words. Spoke louder than the way we dressed or what we claimed were our good intentions.
“Thanks, Cassidy.” She leaned closer. “You know, there’s a part of me that thinks there’s some kind of hard-core action hero buried deep inside you.”
Cassidy’s eyes widened. “Is that right?”
“It’s totally right. Maybe you and Chief Mac could work together.” Serena raised her keys. “Okay. I’ve gotta run. See ya later!”
Cassidy had to change into black-and-white. Thankfully, she had black shorts and a blousy white linen top.
Just as Cassidy was getting ready to leave, someone knocked at her door. Was Ty here already? They were riding together.
Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him. Which was stupid and something she needed to squash immediately.
But a different face peered in the door.
It was . . . Diane?
Cassidy pushed the door open, quickly noting the woman’s swollen red eyes.
Something had happened. Something new. Something bad.
“Are you okay? The kids?” Cassidy touched her arm.
She let out another sob. “It’s terrible, Cassidy.”
Cassidy glanced behind the woman. Seriously, where were the kids? She liked this conversation less and less by the minute. Internal warning bells were going off left and right.
“Money showed up in our account.” Diane’s voice came out as a scratchy whisper.
That didn’t sound great. But Cassidy couldn’t fully give her attention to this conversation until she knew one thing. “Where are the triplets?”
“I took them to this daycare place.” She wiped her eyes with a well-used paper towel. “I just needed a few minutes to myself. I saw your truck parked here when I went for a walk down the beach yesterday. I hope you don’t mind me coming by. I have no one else to talk to here.”
“Not at all.” Cassidy opened the door wider. “Why don’t you come inside and tell me exactly what’s going on.”
Diane took a seat on the edge of the couch, refused any water or coffee, and launched into the story. “I got a call from the jail this morning. It was Phil. He said the police had new evidence.”
“Okay.”
“Apparently, they’ve been monitoring our financial accounts, and they discovered a twenty-thousand-dollar deposit that went through last night.”
Twenty thousand? That wasn’t chump change. “You don’t know where this money came from?”
Diane swung her head back and forth. “I have no idea.”
Cassidy tried to think it through. “So you think whoever killed Sarge put the money there to set your husband up?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Cassidy lowered herself across from Diane and contemplated her words. “Has Phil regained any memories of that evening?”
“No, he hasn’t. Not yet.” Her sniffle turned into another sob. “What am I going to do, Cassidy? I’m sorry to come here, but you’re the only one who’s been nice to me since I arrived. And you just seem so sweet and like a good listener . . .”
“Who else would have had access to your accounts, Diane?”
She drew in a deep breath, as if trying to get hold of herself, and began playing with her necklace. “No one. Just me and Phil.”
“So how did the money get there? Not just anyone can drop money into someone’s account.”
“I have no idea. You don’t think he’s guilty too, do you?”
Cassidy chose her words carefully. “I’m just asking questions.”
“What am I going to do?” She gave her eyes another wipe before locking gazes with Cassidy.
Cassidy drew in a deep breath. “Look, I’m going to help serve at a memorial for Sarge the Hambys are throwing today and—”
“They’re throwing a memorial? They didn’t even tell me.”
Cassidy frowned. “I’m sorry. But while I’m there, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Would you? That would mean the world to me.”
“Of course I will.” Cassidy really hoped she didn’t regret it.
“There’s one more thing.” Diane touched the necklace at her throat nervously again.
“What’s that?” One more thing had an ominous ring to it.
Diane took the necklace off and handed it to Cassidy. “Sarge gave this to me.”
“What?” Certainly Cassidy hadn’t heard correctly. Why would Sarge . . .
“I knew if I told you that, it would look suspicious. Like we were having an affair or something. But we weren’t. He gave this to me and said when he saw it, it reminded him of me. It was kind of strange. But thoughtful, I suppose.”
“So why are you giving it to me?” Cassidy glanced at the round pendant, wondering about its significance.
“Maybe it means something. Maybe it was a last-ditch effort on Sarge’s part to point to his killer.”
“Maybe,” Cassidy finally conceded. It seemed like a reach.
“I . . . I don’t know. But I don’t want it anymore, so I’d like for you to have it.” She shoved something else into Cassidy’s hands. “And take this also. It’s my phone number. I plan on leaving town in the next few days. I just can’t stay here anymore, plus my week is also up. I want someone here to have my number, just in case anything else turns up.”
Cassidy slipped it into her pocket. “I understand.”
Cassidy didn’t say it out loud, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Phil just might be guilty after all.
Or Diane.
Ty met Cassidy on the pathway between their homes just as a woman was leaving. His gaze followed the visitor, curiosity sparking in him. “Who was that?”
“Phil’s wife.” Cassidy frowned, and her gaze contained a distant, far-off look.
“Phil, the man in jail for Sarge’s murder?” His curiosity sparked even brighter.
“That’s the one.”
“How . . . ? What . . . ?” His hands went to his hips. How had Cassidy scored a meeting with Phil’s wife?
“I think I told you that I met her while selling ice cream. Apparently, some cash dropped into their bank account last night, which the chief believes only confirms Phil’s guilt.”
Wasn’t that interesting? And now that Cassidy mentioned it, he did remember her saying she’d met the woman. “How much cash?”
“Twenty thousand.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I’d say that’s a pretty good confirmation.”
“Without actually getting into their financials it’s hard to tell for sure.”
Ty gave her a look, and Cassidy shrugged. She sounded so . . . professional. Why was that?
“I did the books for the interior design firm,” Cassidy said. “I know a thing or two about investments.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hand and conceded. He supposed that made sense. But Cassidy Livingston was one big mystery to him. She was equal parts fire, ditz, and intelligence.
She pulled the necklace from her pocket. “Diane also gave me this. She said Sarge gave it to her, which is weird.”
Ty’s mind raced through the possibilities, stopping at the most obvious one. “Were they seeing each other?”
Cassidy shook her head. “She claims they weren’t.”
“Then why would he give her that?” He wasn’t as trusting as Cassidy was. He’d seen too many things. Too many deceits and cover-ups. Trusting people didn’t come easily to him.
“That’s the question.”
As Cassidy examined the necklace, he stepped closer to get a better look. Some words were written inside. The beach fixes everything.
Weird.
That was when a realization hit him. “Cassidy, hold that to the light.”
She glanced at him but didn’t argue. Instead, she raised the necklace toward the sun.
“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, extending his hand toward the necklace. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
He peered through what appeared to be a decorative scroll at the top, right below the link connecting the pendant to the necklace. Sure enough, it wasn’t a decorative scroll. It was actually a magnifying glass where you could leave personalized messages. A string of numbers appeared there.
“I’m dying here,” Cassidy mumbled. “What are you doing?”
“Here, look for yourself.” He handed the necklace back to her. “A shop on the beach sells these, and you can personalize messages that aren’t visible to the human eye.”
She glanced at him again, but this time there was a touch of admiration in her gaze. “Brilliant. But what do the numbers mean?”
“I have no idea. It’s too long to be a birthday and too short to be a social security number.”
“We need to figure out what these numbers mean.” She glanced at her watch before shoving the necklace into the snug pocket of her shorts. “But we don’t have time now.”
Ty fell into step beside her. “I suppose we have a memorial to get to. I’ll drive.”
Cassidy frowned. “Speaking of which, when do you get your truck back?”
“Next week. Why?” He tilted his head, a realization clicking in his mind. “You’re embarrassed by my truck, aren’t you? Even though it isn’t mine.”
She shrugged but said nothing.
“Everyone around here knows that’s not my truck, Cassidy.”
“Visitors don’t know it’s not yours.”
He studied her, trying to figure her out. Why was she so hung up on that truck?
“Besides, you rode with me last night,” he said. “And when we went to the marina.”
Cassidy shrugged. “It was dark. No one could see.”
Ty still wasn’t ready to drop it. “I don’t really care what strangers think of me. I know this truck doesn’t define me.”
“Sometimes those strangers might turn into friends.”
Was she referring to herself? “Maybe I don’t want those strangers to be my friends if they’re judging me so easily. There’s one other thing I wanted to ask you about, by the way.”
“What’s that?” Tension filled her gaze.
He shifted. He’d been unsure if he’d wanted to bring it up, but if she was going to press him on the truck, he was going to press her about what he’d learned also.
“I ran into Larry earlier today,” he started.
Cassidy looked even more tense. “Okay.”
Ty shifted, going into interrogation mode. “He said he was from Seattle.”
“Just because he lives in Seattle doesn’t mean his son can’t live in Texas.” Her voice was even, but her gaze looked strained.
Ty didn’t buy it. “That’s the other thing. He said his oldest son is fourteen.”
Ty was thinking through every angle. He was naturally suspicious, and he liked to know that people were playing straight with him.
Cassidy cleared her throat. “That’s because he decided his oldest son—the real one—doesn’t exist, if you must know. Justin hasn’t spoken to his father in years.”
He thought through her answer. It made sense, he supposed. Maybe he shouldn’t have pressed her. Yet he couldn’t deny that it felt good to know the truth, especially since he sensed she was hiding more than she was sharing.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ty said. “I guess I shouldn’t have questioned you.”
“I would have done the same thing.” Cassidy stopped by her car. “But I don’t have time to argue. We’ve got to get to work. Now.”
At the party, Cassidy grabbed a tray of pecan and peanut butter encrusted chicken and mingled among the crowd from Hamby Investments. Her conversation with Ty still replayed itself over and over in her head.
He was suspicious of her, and he had every right to be. That meant that he was probably the last person she should be hanging out with.
But she’d have to figure that out later. Instead, her thoughts remained on that necklace. The move had been clever on Sarge’s part—a great way to hide a message. But what did it mean? And why did he give it to Diane?
Because she knew cyber security, Cassidy realized. It was the only thing that made sense.
She served a couple more pieces of chicken before slipping away for a minute. With her back to the crowd, she dialed Diane’s number. Diane answered on the first ring, sounding hesitant—maybe even a little fearful.
“Diane, it’s Cassidy.” After a pause she added, “The ice cream lady.”
“Oh, of course. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“Diane, I found some hidden numbers in that necklace you gave me.” She rattled off the digits. “Do they mean anything to you?”
“Off the top of my head, no.”
Disappointment bit at Cassidy. She’d been hopeful.
“But let me look into it. If Sarge put those numbers there, they mean something.”
“If you figure anything out, let me know.”
Thankfully, neither Annalise nor Madison recognized her away from the spa. She also spotted Walter and Stan. A couple of other people appeared to have flown in for the memorial. Based on their uptight demeanor, she’d guess they were all high-strung investors.
The party was actually being held on a deck located down a long boardwalk coming from the house and built atop a dune. It was surprisingly large, with a gazebo and a swing, and the ocean was just steps away. On a table that had been set up there was a picture of Sarge, God rest his soul.
Cassidy glanced across the sun-slathered deck and saw Ty looking at ease as he carried a tray of champagne glasses. He smiled and talked to guests, looking like he’d done this a million times before. That man was a mystery to her—a mystery who seemed a little too curious about her past. She needed to proceed with caution in their friendship.
She glanced at the partygoers and frowned. These people were celebrating more than they were mourning. Cassidy wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on it.
She needed to track down a killer.
Her gaze shifted to Stan. He wandered from the deck to the sand, a distant expression on his face. The man was on the shorter side and bald, with nervous movements. Cassidy needed to figure out a way to talk to him. Because she had a feeling something fishy was going on with the funds at Hamby Investments—something to do with money that was most likely being embezzled. It was the only thing that made sense.
In fact, one of her father’s financial advisors had once embezzled money from him. And it had started with small, suspicious transactions that didn’t make sense.
Just like what was happening to Lydia.
When Stan’s eyes connected with hers, Cassidy saw her opportunity and made her way to him. He offered a tight smile as he took a piece of chicken.
This was it. Cassidy needed to strike up a conversation. She may not have another opportunity. But she would start small.
“Hey, didn’t I see you down at the marina the other night?” she asked. “Saturday, if I remember correctly. Right before the big storm. I remember because I couldn’t get over someone going out with such bad weather approaching.”
Stan paled and dropped his chicken. It landed in the sand. “What are you talking about?”
“You know, Saturday night . . . right after those two other men went out. One of them ended up dying.”
And in one motion, he shoved her tray toward her, spilling chicken all over her white blouse and knocking her down.
And then he ran.