The drive to the hotel took less time than expected, since most people had flocked to the beaches to beat the heat. Since Beast wasn’t allowed in the hotel, and it was way too hot to leave him in the car, Cass had left him at Mystical Musings, though she probably should have gated him in the back room rather than letting him roam free. Hopefully, everything would still be intact when she returned.
Waves of heat shimmered across the parking lot as she climbed out of Bee’s Trans Am. “Where do you think we’ll find Elaina?”
Bee checked his watch. “She’s probably cleaning rooms right now. I’ll text her and see if she can meet us in the lobby.”
Cass searched the lot for Luke’s Jeep but didn’t see it. He was more than likely chasing down some lead or another. Several news vans clustered in one corner of the lot.
“Okay, she’ll meet us in the lobby in a few minutes.”
“Great.”
“Just out of curiosity, why didn’t you ask Luke, or even Tank, about the surveillance cameras?”
Yeah, right. Like those two were going to give her any information on the investigation. “I mentioned it to Luke in passing, and he hedged, told me to stay out of the investigation, and blah, blah, blah . . .”
“Ahh . . . and naturally your response to that order was to come out here and interrogate the poor housekeeper?”
“I’m not interrogating her. I’m just asking a few questions.”
“Mm-hmm . . .”
She stopped walking and started to turn around. “We could just leave.”
He grabbed her arm and whirled her back toward the hotel entrance. “And have to hear whatever Elaina knows from Emma Nicholls? Not a chance, sugar.”
“It’s not like I want to insert myself into the investigation, but Emmett came to me for help. Besides, all I’m really doing is talking to a friend. It’s not like I’m doing anything dangerous.”
Bee snorted. “You got that right, honey. No way I’d be tagging along if you were.”
“Says the man who’s helped me through more than one dangerous situation.”
“Yeah, well, that’s changed now. From now on, if you are going to get yourself into trouble, I’m out.”
Cass stopped walking to stare him down.
“What?” He studied his fingernails.
Bee always had her back, without fail, no matter what kind of mess she got herself into. “Since when?”
He yanked the collar of his T-shirt down away from his neck. “Since Luke asked me so nicely, with that thick, sexy drawl and all, to keep an eye on you.”
“And?”
Bee swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then leaned close and whispered, “And everyone knows Luke is staying at the hotel, so for all I know he could be somewhere around here right now. Listening.”
Cass laughed and hooked her arm through Bee’s as they resumed their trek across the hot blacktop. “Come on, you. And if you’re good, I’ll tell Luke you were true to your word.”
Bee yanked her to a stop. “You wouldn’t really tell him I repeated that, would you?”
“No, Bee. I promise, your secret’s safe with me.”
“Whew.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped the sweat from his brow. “I would not want to be on that man’s bad side.”
“Don’t be silly. How could you ever get on his bad side when you take such good care of me?”
“That is true, and if you want to remind him of that, without spilling the beans that I slipped and told you about his request, I’m totally on board.”
“You got it, Bee.”
By the time they strolled through the front doors, Elaina was already seated on a couch in the far corner of the lobby. She waved them over, then recapped her water bottle and pointed to two water bottles on the table. “I figured you’d need it after the heat in that parking lot.”
“Thanks, Elaina.” Cass sat in an armchair across from her, the air-conditioned air chilling her skin after the heat outside. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure. I was actually just finishing up when Bee texted.”
“What have you been up to?” Cass opened her water bottle.
“Nothing much besides working. You know how it is here during the summer.”
“Yeah, I do. In some ways, I wish it was like that all year long.”
“Bite your tongue.” Bee plopped down in the armchair next to hers. “No way I’d want to keep up this pace all year long. I’d never get anything else accomplished.”
Easy for him to say. Most of his work was commissioned or through appointments, so he didn’t have to worry about generating income for the rest of the months.
“Oh.” Bee held up a finger. “Speaking of the summer season ending, you’re going to do the fashion show this year, right, Elaina?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Attendance at Bee’s annual fashion shows had increased dramatically over the past couple of years, and even brought buyers from New York City out to Bay Island. Since he used local merchants for everything, including modeling his amazing dresses, and filled up the hotel and restaurants during the off-season, his shows had become quite popular.
Cass took a long drink, the ice-cold water racing down her throat.
“Cass is going to be modeling something from my new lingerie line.”
Cass choked. She covered her mouth to avoid spraying water all over the place.
“Oh, dear, are you okay?” Bee jumped up and patted her back.
She glared at him over her shoulder while she sucked in air and tried to regain her composure.
“What happened?” He feigned innocence.
“Very”—wheeze—“funny.”
“I’m sorry.” He sat back down in his chair and batted his long lashes at her. “I guess maybe I could have chosen a more opportune moment to spring that one on you.”
“Ya think?” She recapped the bottle and put it on the table.
“Don’t worry, honey, don’t I always make you look beautiful?”
Actually, he did. Bee had an incredible eye for what designs would look best on whom. He’d designed dresses more than once with her in mind, and she was always amazed when she tried one on and looked in the mirror, especially his gowns. He was famous for gowns with elaborate strappy backs. Even so . . . “But lingerie?”
“Nothing revealing. You know me: I believe in understated elegance rather than trashy, in-your-face garments that don’t leave anything to the imagination.”
“We’ll see, but I’m not promising anything.”
Apparently appeased by her answer, Bee crossed one leg over the other and settled with his hands folded on his knee. “You’ll look stunning. Trust me.”
She did. Mostly. But she still had every intention of worming her way out of modeling anything referred to as lingerie. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you about something, Elaina. It’s about the murder at Emmett’s.”
With a quick glance around the lobby, Elaina scooted closer to the edge of her seat and leaned forward. “What’s up?”
“I was just wondering if there are surveillance cameras on the hotel that catch any of Emmett’s lot or garage?” She held her breath, hoping they’d caught something, anything, that would exonerate Emmett.
“Apparently there are two that have a view of the road in front of the garage and the entrance to Emmett’s lot, but the detectives already confiscated them.”
Cass had expected as much. “Do you know what they showed?”
“Seriously? My uncle owns the place, remember? Of course I heard what was on them.”
Her heart raced.
Bee leaned forward, his knees bouncing up and down in anticipation of new dirt.
“Nothing.” Elaina sat back and finished off her water bottle. “Not even one car went by on the road between the time Emmett pulled in and the time the first police car showed up.”
No wonder Luke had avoided telling her what was on the surveillance footage. He must have known she’d feel the need to investigate further if the evidence suggested Emmett’s guilt. She closed her eyes and rolled the cool water bottle across her forehead.
“You okay?” Elaina capped her empty water bottle.
What could she say? She needed time to process that. “Sorry, I’m fine. Um . . . I also wanted to see if you have a guest named Olivia Wells?”
“Olivia Wells?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t sound familiar, but if you give me a few minutes, I can look her up and let you know.”
“Thanks, Elaina. I’d appreciate it.” She had to try to get in touch with Olivia. But what would she say to her? A shadow crossed her vision while doing a reading? The woman hadn’t seemed particularly impressed with the premise of communicating with the dead, nor with Cass’s ability to do so. And when Cass had tried to warn her, Olivia had not only dismissed but threatened her.
“Hey.” Bee nudged her arm with his elbow. “You know who that is?”
Cass opened one eye. “Who what is?”
“The guy who just sat down at the desk over there.”
Cass opened her other eye and followed Bee’s line of sight with her own. The last thing she needed just then was a gossip session with Bee. She had to figure out what to do about Emmett.
A man sat at a desk in the small office area that provided office equipment for hotel guests. He gestured with one hand while speaking urgently into his cell phone, though she wasn’t close enough to make out what he was saying. “Who is he?”
“Bruce Brinkman.”
She sat up straighter. “Dirk’s son?”
“One and the same.” Bee nodded.
“I wonder why he’s staying at the hotel.” Seemed he’d have stayed at his father’s house.
“The two didn’t speak to one another, and Bruce arrived on Bay Island while his father was still alive, so it makes sense he’d have stayed somewhere else.”
“Unless they were reconciling.” What other reason could Bruce have had to return? “Who do you suppose he’s talking to?”
“I don’t know, but he sure does look aggravated.” Bee stood and smoothed his linen pants.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to get close enough to hear what he’s saying.”
“You can’t just walk over there and eavesdrop.”
“Watch and learn, honey, watch and learn.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and strolled across the lobby, saying hello to a couple of people as he passed and nodded greetings to a few others. When he reached the office space, he sat down at one of the desks and put his phone against his ear, people-watching as if he hadn’t even noticed Bruce.
Bruce Brinkman spared him one quick glance, then turned his back toward Bee and continued his conversation. He dug through the center desk drawer and pulled out a notepad and pen, then jotted something down.
Bee’s chair came precariously close to tipping as he craned his neck to see over Bruce’s shoulder, all while trying to maintain his air of discretion.
As soon as he was done writing, Bruce jammed the page he’d written on and the phone into his shorts pocket, shoved the pad back into the drawer, and strode across the lobby and out the door.
Cass jumped up and hurried over to Bee. “Well?”
“That’s it? Well? Not even a word of praise at my incredible prowess?”
She punched his arm. “You were amazing, Bee. Now, pretend I gushed and tell me what he said.”
Bee laughed, thankfully dropping the drama-queen routine. With Bee, you never knew. It could go either way. He’d either snap out of it or spend the rest of the day sulking. Since he’d snapped right out of it, the dirt must be good.
“He was arguing with someone. I don’t know what about, because he changed tactics once I sat down, but I did overhear him say he listed his father’s house for sale.”
“Already?”
“I know, right. Doesn’t it seem too soon?”
When Cass had returned to Bay Island after her parents passed away, she’d spent hours walking through their home, staring at different things that evoked memories of her mother and father and their lives together. Every time she’d opened a dresser drawer, the aroma of rose-scented sachets enveloped her in memories of her mother. She’d often sat in her father’s reclining chair, just to feel close to him while she poured through old photo albums. She couldn’t imagine coming home and listing their home for sale after only a few days. As it was, she’d never been able to leave and had, once again, made Bay Island her home. And still, she could never shake the regret that she hadn’t done it while they were still alive.
“Hey, Cass?” Bee shook her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” She wiped a tear that had slid unnoticed down her cheek. She’d have to go by the florist and pick up some flowers later. It had been a few days since she’d visited the cemetery. “Yeah, sorry. Just got lost in thought for a minute.”
Bee’s phone played a jungle drum rhythm, and he pulled up his text messages. “Elaina says she has to get back to work. Some kids spilled soda all over the carpet in their room, but there’s no Olivia Wells, or any other Wells, listed in the hotel registry.”
Just what she needed, another dead end. Somehow, she had to find this woman, to reach her and let her know she or someone close to her could be in danger. She should have been more insistent when she’d tried to warn her after the reading.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll find her, and it’s not like you didn’t try to warn her. You did. Who knows? Just because she appeared to blow it off doesn’t mean she did. She may be more careful because of it.” He held out a hand to help her up. “Come on. Why don’t we get out of here?”
“I have to get back to the shop now, anyway. I don’t want to leave Beast alone any longer than I have to.” She stood and started toward the door. “Oh, by the way, were you able to see what Bruce Brinkman wrote down?”
“Nah, and not for lack of trying.”
“I noticed that. Hang on a minute, I have an idea.” She ran back to the desk and opened the center drawer. Three pads with the hotel’s logo, address, and phone number embossed on the top sat side by side. With no way of knowing which one Bruce had used, and desperate to find a way to clear Emmett’s name, Cass ripped the top sheet off each pad and stuffed them into her purse’s front pocket, careful nothing would crease or dent them. With any luck at all, she’d be able to figure out what Bruce Brinkman was up to.
“What are you doing?” Bee asked.
“Shh . . .” She grabbed Bee’s elbow and urged him toward the door. “I’ll explain when we get outside.”
Bee followed along without arguing. “Hey. Is that Stephanie?”
“Where?” Cass slowed.
“In the second office on the left.”
Stephanie sat at a conference table in one of the private offices she often rented at the hotel when she had a client she didn’t want to meet with at her home office and who didn’t own a shop on Bay Island.
She sat with her hands folded on the table while a paunchy man in a full suit, despite the almost hundred-degree heat, paced behind her twisting a ring around his pinky.
Cass and Bee angled themselves toward the door, trying to appear casual.
When Stephanie spotted them, she glanced sideways at the man without turning her head, then rolled her eyes.
Cass frowned at her.
Stephanie gave one discreet shake of her head, a warning not to interfere.
The man turned and started another circuit behind Stephanie, then marched to the door and slammed it shut.
Apparently Cass and Bee were not as stealthy as they thought.
“Well, I never,” Bee huffed.
“Do you think that’s her new client?”
“She didn’t say anything about meeting with him today, only Friday, but she did say he might come to Bay Island. Maybe he moved the meeting up.”
Cass bit her lip, unsure what to do. “Do you think she’s all right?”
“She seemed to be.” Bee propped his hands on his hips and stared at the door, then started forward. “But we can check.”
Cass grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“What? I was going to knock first.”
“You can’t barge in there while she’s working.”
He scowled. “Why not?”
“Bee, how would you like it if you were meeting with a client and Stephanie and I came bursting in?”
He grinned. “It would be interesting.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Oh, all right. I see your point.” He slid to the side of the closed door, then peeked into the narrow window beside it. He waited until the man turned his back, then shot Stephanie a thumbs-up.
She glanced at the man’s back, then returned the gesture.
Satisfied Stephanie was okay, they headed out to the parking lot.
Though she scanned the lot as they hurried to Bee’s car, Cass found no sign of Bruce Brinkman. Wherever he’d disappeared to, Cass had no hope of following him. Not that she would have. Probably. But the choice was out of her hands.
“It’s probably for the best, anyway,” Bee said.
“Huh? What is?”
“The fact Bruce disappeared before you could follow him.”
“How did you know—”
“Oh, please, I don’t have to be psychic, or even particularly observant, to see you looking for him, or to notice the look of disappointment when you didn’t find him.”
“That transparent, huh?” She laughed.
“More transparent than those ghosts you’re always claiming you don’t actually talk to.”
“Touché.”