Julie, Kayla, and Aggie decided to try Darinda’s Luncheonette for breakfast the next morning. Julie thought they all might be feeling the effects of too much partying and possibly, at least on Julie’s part, having their planned vacation hijacked and having second thoughts about the outcome.
Darinda’s evidently was the place for breakfast in Lucky’s Beach, and they had to stand in the doorway to wait for a table.
The dining area was painted in a yellow tone that bordered on ocher. The far wall had a colorful mural of a many-armed goddess surrounded by flowers, birds, spiraling designs, and geometrical edgings.
Not your typical diner.
Ceramic mugs and cutlery rattled on the Formica tables that ran along both walls and were spaced evenly apart in a domino pattern in between. A melodious Indian raga played a quiet accompaniment to conversations, laughter, and a bustling waitstaff.
An Indian woman—Darinda herself?—wearing an orange tunic over black flowing trousers hurried forward, picking up three menus on her way to greet the newcomers. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, and big hoop earrings hung from her ears.
“Welcome to Darinda’s. This way, please.” She waited for a waitress carrying a heavy tray of plates to pass by and then for a very young and skinny busboy, also Indian, to cart a rubber container filled with dirty dishes in the direction of the kitchen. Then she led them to a table for four a narrow aisle away from the row of booths that ran along the wall.
Julie was in the process of pulling out a chair when a trio of “Mornin’, Julie” got her attention. Corey, Ron, and Ike from the bar. They seemed to turn up everywhere she went.
She smiled over at them. “Good morning. I see this is the place to be for breakfast.” She finished sitting down.
“You sounded just like an elementary teacher,” Aggie said.
“Ugh.” Julie reached for a menu. “I’ll try not to be so chipper in the future.”
“The best in town, ain’t that right, Darinda?” said Ike.
Darinda, who had just handed Aggie and Kayla their menus, nodded.
“This here’s Julie,” Ron said. “Lucky’s niece.”
There was a sudden lull in the luncheonette. Darinda’s face lit up and she took Julie’s hands in both of hers and squeezed them. “Lucky’s niece. Welcome. Welcome. Are you comfortable at this table? I can find you one less busy.”
“Thank you, but we’re fine here. These are my friends, Aggie and Kayla.”
“Welcome, welcome. Vihaan, bring coffee.” She snapped her fingers. A slim boy, older than the busboy but definitely of the same family, bustled over with the coffeepot and three mugs dangling from his fingers.
With Darinda’s keen eyes upon him, he poured three mugs without a drip, and with a “Please, enjoy your breakfast,” they both departed.
A quick look around assured Julie that most of the diners had returned to their breakfast, except for Corey, Ike, and Ron, who were still beaming at her. Friendly, avuncular, perhaps, and . . . feeling guilty? About what? she wondered. She’d seen those innocent smiles before, usually when she’d caught young miscreants up to no good. And if ever there were three boys in grown men’s bodies feeling guilty about something, it had to be these three.
In the booth behind them two women prepared to leave: the irate knitting lady, Stella, and Claire of Claire’s Beachables. Julie would never have thought of them as breakfast buddies.
Stella heaved herself out of the booth. She was dressed in a light rose twinset, which would soon be unbearable in the heat. Julie supposed it was advertising. Stella adjusted a black leather purse across her shoulder and reached back onto the banquette for a plastic shopping bag filled with a newspaper and what appeared to be mail. She stopped long enough to glare at Julie.
Julie smiled, hoping to ward off any ill will, but it was ineffectual.
“You tell your uncle . . .” she began.
“Oh, Stella, give it a rest,” Ike said.
Stella’s top half twisted toward him. “You mind your own business, Ike Gibson. Someone broke into my store last night.”
Claire nudged her toward the exit with an apologetic smile.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Ron said.
“It weren’t Julie, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Corey chuckled. “We can vouch for her.”
“Ha, ’cause she’s Lucky’s niece?”
“That’s reason enough. Did you call the police?”
“Why bother?”
“Well, what did they take?”
“How could I tell? Everything was moved around so I couldn’t find anything this morning. Yarns all out of place.”
“Think they were looking for something special?” asked Ike. “I hear Sally Tierney’s baby is gonna be a girl. Any pink yarn missing?”
“You probably just rearranged things and forgot,” Corey said. “Happens to us all, don’t it, guys?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yep.”
“I would expect that attitude from you,” snapped Stella. She swiveled back to Julie. “It’s those delinquent children Lucky keeps bringing to town. I know he thinks he’s doing good, but it’s ruining the town.”
Ron slid out of his seat and wrapped his arm around Stella’s shoulders. “Aw, Stella, nobody wants to hear that nonsense this morning. Why don’t me and Corey and Ike come over and help you get things back to normal.”
“It’s those darn kids, they’re everywhere. You mark my words. There’s bound to be trouble.”
“Now, now, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Ron waggled his eyebrows over her head and ushered her out of the diner.
“Don’t let her upset you,” Claire said. “We all have our cross to bear. Stella just sees hers as bigger than anyone else’s. I try to be a friend, but I can tell you, sometimes it takes a lot of energy. You three have a good stay.” She followed the others out.
“Looks like Uncle Lucky hasn’t changed,” Aggie said.
Julie sighed. “Sounds like it. Still bringing home strays.”
“Well, good for him,” Kayla said. “If my kids ever ran away, heaven forbid, I hope they would find Lucky or someone like him.”
Julie considered Kayla. All her friends had adored Uncle Lucky. She had, too, until he started disappointing her. It was like the case of the cobbler’s children going without shoes. Maybe she hadn’t needed him as much as the others did. At least maybe he’d thought she hadn’t. But she had.
She shook herself. Oh, boohoo. She’d had a good life, and she’d never had to live on the streets; she’d never even threatened to run away, much less actually carried it out. She had a lot to be thankful for, so why had she felt so resentful toward her uncle?
“Don’t look,” Kayla said. “But these two guys in the booth next to our friendly welcoming committee keep looking this way.”
“Are they cute?” Aggie said, glancing over Julie’s shoulder.
Julie turned to see for herself.
“I said don’t look. Anyway they’re getting up.”
As they watched, two men walked past them to the door. They were wearing slacks and short-sleeved button-down shirts. Slicked-back hair. They looked more like salesmen than surfers, and strangely out of place.
Breakfast lasted longer than usual, as people came up to say hello and welcome them to town. It seemed everyone in the diner knew Lucky. Even Mayor “call me Billy” Atkins stopped by to introduce himself and his two young sons—the same two boys whom CeeJay had saved from the irate Stella.
When they’d finished their meal and finally drained the last drops of their delicious dark roasted coffee, all four members of Darinda’s family walked them to the door.
“I can’t believe everyone is so friendly,” Kayla said.
“I can’t believe we ate all that food,” Aggie said with a groan. “It was delicious, but now Les will see me with breakfast belly in my new bikini.”
“He saw you in it yesterday,” Kayla said. “He’ll give you a pass.”
“Not that old thing. Another new one. I’d been saving it for tonight. They’re having a bonfire on the beach. And I saw this other really cute one in the window of that boutique we passed last night . . . maybe I’ll go try it on.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ve got to call the kids, make sure they survived another day on the golf course. And then I’m for the beach.”
“I’ll meet you guys there,” Julie said. “But first I’m going to pay a visit to Madame Marzetta . . . at home. Ask her a few questions and then I wash my hands of the whole Lucky situation. This was way more trouble than it was worth.”
“Yeah, but you have to admit, this is sort of better than the big beach crowd.”
“I guess.” It was more laid-back, which was much better for Julie’s temperament. And now that they knew Lucky was fine, she could start enjoying herself. Though she was curious about what Marzetta had told her last night, not as a real fortune, but as a way to see Julie gone.
Aggie went off to the shops, Kayla returned to the hotel, and Julie headed toward the alley that ran behind the stores and cottages. She had considered walking down Dune Lane, but she thought showing up at the back door of Marie’s cottage would seem more informal, less obvious.
She nodded to Claire and the three guys who were standing outside the Knitting Knoll talking to Stella. Julie picked up her pace and was soon walking down the alley. She was passing the back entrances of the shops when one of the doors opened just wide enough for someone to slip out: a girl, tall, thin, blond. She eased the door closed and took off at a run.
Right into Julie.
“Shit, sorry.” She looked up and Julie recognized CeeJay from Surf’s Up. “I’m late. Don’t tell anyone you saw me. I’m gonna tell ’em I had a flat tire.”
“Sure,” Julie said, still recovering, and watched CeeJay race toward the parking lot. She looked back at the door CeeJay had come from. There must be apartments above the stores.
Julie turned back to her own business and walked on, though her steps slowed as she reached the row of cottages and her usual indecision took over. Maybe she was making too much of this. She really shouldn’t bother the woman this early. Maybe she had a day job.
So what if she did? Stop being such a nervous Nellie. Learn to assert yourself. It’s just a few harmless questions. The worst she can do is say no. Call the police? Julie had already been attacked by a resident once today. Oh hell. Grow a pair.
She forced herself forward. She’d reached the house next to Marie’s when her door opened. Julie automatically stepped back.
Dougie bounded out the door, sniffed around, saw her, and galloped toward her. Julie raised her head to call out to Marie to stop him, but she froze in her tracks.
The face staring back at her wasn’t Marie’s. Neither of them moved or even blinked. Then Lucky stepped back inside and closed the door.
Julie just stood there, disbelieving, waiting for it to open again. For him to invite her inside. But it didn’t. He didn’t. He’d seen her. Recognized her. And closed the door on her. He’d been hiding from her all along. He didn’t want to see her.
And something inside her imploded.
Fine, it didn’t matter. She’d just go back to the hotel—but her feet wouldn’t move. He shut the door practically in my face.
Dougie had stopped a few feet away, his sweeping tail tucked low, his ears drooping against his head.
Turn around. Leave.
She forced her body to turn away, began to retrace her steps to the parking lot.
He must have been here the whole time and told everyone to get rid of her. Well, fine, she was leaving, now. She would never search him out again. Because you couldn’t depend on good old Uncle Lucky, even when you gave up your vacation just because your mother was worried.
She made it as far as the steps of one of the shops before her knees gave out. She sank down and buried her head in her arms trying to breathe. All this trouble. All these feelings. And he didn’t want to see her. She just didn’t understand. What had they ever done to him?
A slobbery wet nose nudged her knee.
“Go away. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. Go back to where you belong.”
Dougie plopped down, stretched, and rested his head on her feet. She tried to nudge him away but he didn’t budge.
“He didn’t even have the courtesy to say hello and send me on my way. He didn’t have to hide. From me. Why didn’t he just call my mom like he’s supposed to do? Then I would have never even come here.”
Dougie didn’t seem to have an answer, but she suddenly did. Lucky—Tony—was in hiding because he was a common criminal. A part of whatever they were smuggling the other night. It hadn’t been an old man driving the van; it had been Lucky—Tony. He did sort of look old and bent over this morning.
It all made sense now, why he had never invited them to visit. Why he missed this phone call. He’d been busy robbing somebody. Maybe Stella was right: he was not the great man they all seemed to think he was but a crook.
“What am I going to tell Mom?”
Dougie had the grace to roll his eyes toward her and whimper.
“Yeah, me, too.” She began to absently rub Dougie’s back. “I just won’t tell her. I’ll just forget everything I’ve seen.” She sniffed. “But why, Dougie?”
Dougie rolled over to have his stomach scratched.
She stood up, eliciting a low moan from Dougie. “Go get Lucky to rub your stomach. I’m leaving.” She stomped away. Turned back. “And don’t follow me.”
Dougie looked up from where he was still lying on his back.
“Ugh.” She stalked off, kept up her righteous indignation until she reached the parking lot and her face crumpled. She gave herself a stern talking-to and managed not to cry.
She reached the sidewalk and turned left toward the hotel. She’d just calmly tell the girls what had happened and that their duty was over and they could leave as soon as their room at the economy motel was free. Though neither Aggie nor Kayla seemed at all discontent. How had things gone south so fast?
Two words: Uncle Lucky. Well, Tony Costa could just go live his life. Julie Barlow didn’t care. Not anymore.
“I couldn’t help it,” Lucky said. “I saw her and I just panicked. Is she still out there? Maybe you could—”
“She’s gone.” Marie turned from the kitchen window.
“Dammit. This has been an effing mess since the get-go.”
“So what do you want to do?” Marie knew they were in over their heads. There had been some iffy cases in the past, but none like this. You didn’t mess with Joseph Raymond without the inevitability of retribution. He would be swift and ruthless. All the preparations they’d made could unravel in a heartbeat.
“You’d better go after her,” Lucky said.
“And do what? Bring her back? Tell her to pay no attention to that man behind the kitchen curtain? She deserves more than that; she’s been on a mission to find you.”
“Because Louise was being Louise, worrying about stuff that is none of her business and that she can do nothing about. And because she has a total hold over her daughter—she always has. I tried to give the poor little thing a chance, but she was always so afraid of upsetting Louise.”
“Louise was not an ogre.”
“No, just overprotective. Of me and of Julie. It was suffocating for me but downright debilitating for Julie.”
“Because she’s worried about you both. And she knows the harsh reality of having to depend only on yourself.”
“No, Mar. You know that harsh reality. Louise had plenty of support. She just refused to accept it.”
Like someone else I know, Marie thought. They were twins in more ways than Lucky realized. But that was another story. In his case, it had led him to take the chances Louise had refused to take. It also placed him in harm’s way more times than was good for his or Marie’s health. “Louise is what she is, and I know that it looks like Julie’s turning out to be just like her, but—”
“I should just leave them alone to be who they are?”
“Perhaps, but remember, you once told me that Julie had a tiny streak of you in her, if she’d only listen to it.”
“She’s better off the way she is.”
“Maybe. No, I don’t mean that. It’s only because you put yourself at risk on this last trip.”
“And everybody else, too.”
“Are you sorry you did it?”
He took a long time to answer, while Marie held her breath. She was worried about him. Lucky was a man who took things in stride, the good, the bad, the ugly. It’s what made him the man he was and effective at what he did.
“We all know you had to do it. And we’re all grateful, but we knew going into it that you can’t protect everyone, though you think you can. And that’s the little streak of Louise in you.”
She stilled, not sure how he was going to take that last jab. He at least looked better today than he had two nights ago, bloodied and beaten. It had scared the bejesus out of her. But her training, begun at her mother’s knee and honed in the service, had taught her to show no emotions, whether it was telling fortunes or telling lies.
“We’ll just have to see it through together.”
Lucky shook his head. “I tried to get Rosie to go to a safe house, but she feels safe here. I should have insisted. Raymond’s bound to have men looking for her, and I may have led them right to her. If the authorities aren’t able to pick them up first . . .”
“They will,” Marie said. “They won’t let us down.”
He gave her a look that pierced to her soul.
“They won’t. And Raymond’s men might have found Rosie regardless. That couldn’t be helped, and we all agreed.”
“But Julie didn’t. I can’t risk her getting caught in the cross fire.”
“There won’t be any cross fire if we stick to the plan.”
“Oh hell, Marie, I don’t know what to do.”
“You always know what to do. And if you don’t, you know how to fake it. But Julie’s got to be warned not to say anything.”
“And enmesh her in this mess? She can’t stay here.”
“It’s better than keeping her clueless and having her snatched off the beach and held for ransom.”
Lucky rubbed his chin, winced as his fingers passed over the yellowing bruise. “No. The less she knows the better. Scatter says she thinks he’s smuggling cheap liquor. It’s a pretty good cover story.” He shook his head, laughed softly. “I’ll die without ever salvaging my reputation with those two.”
Marie slipped behind his chair so he couldn’t see her face and put her arms around him. “Don’t even put that out into the universe.”
He turned his head to kiss her cheek. “I’ll go talk to her, if she’ll listen.”
“I’ll go. You stay put.” Marie grabbed her purse.
“First call Scatter, we’ll have to get our story straight. I won’t have her getting hurt. Not for me, not for anybody.”