I woke up a little after 10:30. The morning sun slanted through the slats in the shutters. Tino lay asleep on his side, facing me now, one arm thrown over my middle. I smiled. He was so cute, so warm, so Tino.
I wanted to be with him for as long as these feelings we had for each other lasted. Could he leave Danger Cove? His mother and sisters were a huge part of Tino, and I felt always would be. How could I beg him to choose between leaving with me or staying with them? No more than I'd expect him to beg me to stay and forego what I'd already worked years for? I prayed silently that by the time I had "Doctor" in front of my name something would happen so that he and I wouldn't be faced with that dilemma, that something would change and neither of us would have to make that hard decision.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. A smile slid onto his lips, and warmth filled his heavy-lidded eyes. "Morning, chica." This was a man who lived in the moment and never held a grudge. It was one of his most admirable traits.
"Morning, chic-o," I replied.
He raised his hand to my face, rubbing his thumb along my jawline. His eyes smoked over. I caught my breath, always surprised at the way he could make me tingle, but before it went any further, I gave him a quick kiss. "Better stop right there, cowboy. We have work to do."
As my feet hit the floor, his disappointed groan made me want to get back in bed with him, cuddle, and see what else might happen. But instead I said, "I'll make breakfast while you shower."
After a really late breakfast of toasted bagels and cream cheese for me and lox and bagels for Tino, we headed out to his car for a trip to the center of town and Gino's Pizzeria.
They'd just opened at eleven but were already busy as heck. The sign in the window said Serving Danger Cove since 1979. The Politano family made awesome pizza, wings, and other Italian specialties.
"We're in luck," I told Tino, "Mama Politano is here. Just the lady we need. Let's see if she has time to talk to us."
Mrs. Politano was a lovely Italian woman of a certain age with an exotic streak of gray that ran through her dark curls. As long as I'd been eating pizza in Danger Cove, which was a pretty long time, she'd never seemed to age even a day.
Mama Politano looked up as we walked toward the register where she was clipping orders to the cook's line.
She turned and came around the counter when she saw us. "Ah, Lizzie, good to see you." She held me back at arm's length for a good look. Mama Politano was a good friend of my mother, and when my parents had taken on their latest life challenge in the Himalayas, Mama P had promised to keep an eye on me—as had many other long-time Covians. "Still too slim, I see. Let me get you a couple slices—veggie special. You too, Tino?" she threw back over her shoulder.
"No, Mama," I said, deferring to her insistence that Mrs. Politano was her mother-in-law. "We had a late night. Just ate breakfast."
She put her hands on her hips and turned back to face us before wagging a scolding finger at Tino. "Late night? Tino, you're going to do the right thing and make an honest woman of our girl. Right?"
Heat rose to my face. "No, Mama. No. Not like that. There was an incident out on Two Mile Beach."
Her hands flew to her cheeks. "Oh, yes. I know. I heard that already. So terrible. That poor man. That poor lady, the pet talker—"
"Critter…" I started to correct her but stopped myself. What difference did it make?
"You were out there?" She looked from me to Tino.
"We were," I said.
She shook her head, obviously unable to grasp how such a terrible thing could happen in a place like Danger Cove.
"I wanted to ask you about some food I was given last night. It came from here. But I never saw the delivery guy before. It was about eight o'clock last night when it came. Can you check to see who ordered it?"
"Some food came to you from here, and you never ordered it?"
I nodded.
"Hmm," she said. "But it was still good Gino's food, yes?"
"Well…"
Her hands went back to her cheeks. "Oh, no. Something was wrong?"
"Probably not. Would you mind looking at your delivery orders from last night, please?" Tino asked.
"Sure. No problem." She went back around the counter, opened a drawer, took out a bank bag and unzipped it, then leafed through a couple dozen small receipts.
After a minute she looked up. "We had no deliveries last night. Some takeout but mostly people ate here. Around the time you said, there were three pickup orders. One from George Fontaine. Thin crust, well done, light sauce, sausage." She waggled her eyebrows. "He came in himself to pick it up." She smoothed her curls. George was a favorite among the ladies of Danger Cove. His smooth Continental ways had seduced just about all of us. Apparently Mrs. Politano was included in that number. "Aaron Pohoke came by about that time, too. Said he was on his way home. Picked up an antipasto salad and some garlic-Parmesan bread sticks. And then there was one more. An order of my special Pesto Penne Primavera—the one you like so much, Lizzie."
"That's it," I said. "That's what I ate."
"Oh," she said. "Well, that clears things up. It was young Josh Wyler who came in and picked it up. I always remember him because he's skinny, like someone else we know," she gave me a sideways glance, "and I was glad to see him eating something that might put some meat on his bones."
"Josh Wyler?" I repeated the name.
She nodded. "Do you know him?"
I shook my head and looked at Tino. He shook his.
"His mother comes in here all the time for takeout. Josh is with her sometimes. I think he has a part-time job on weekends down at the pier. What's going on?" Her curiosity was finally getting the better of her.
"Oh, nothing," I said. "Just that it looks like Josh might have had something to do with what happened."
She put her hand to her heart and gasped. "Josh? No. He's just a little boy, hardly even old enough to shave."
"Maybe," Tino said. "But you don't have to shave to drug someone, kidnap an animal, and possibly even murder the man who caught you in the act."
We left Mama Politano staring after us.
"Probably shouldn't have mentioned that last part," I said to Tino as we walked out.
He looked at me, one dark, lush eyebrow cocked in question.
"Mama Politano is gossip central in this town. It won't take long before everyone in town believes Josh Wyler is a cold-blooded killer, and we haven't had a chance to talk to him yet."
"Let's take care of that then," he said as he took hold of my hand and pulled me along up the block to where the Danger Cove Trolley had stopped to let off passengers.
We hopped on the trolley. The car was full—mostly tourists from the look of everyone—and we had to stand up through the last couple of stops. We got off where it turned around at the pier. Mama Politano hadn't given us much of a clue about Josh Wyler except that he worked somewhere around there on the weekend.
"Where should we start, and how will we know him?" Tino asked.
"About the where, we'll just have to walk around and scope things out. Maybe we'll spot him. As to the how, I won't forget Josh any time soon."
His freckled face, with its big teeth and unruly eyebrows that looked like patches of orange crab grass, wasn't going to be easy to forget. "I'll know him when I see him," I said and started off down the pier with Tino following me.
We stopped in at the Lobster Pot, which was busy as heck with tourists. We locals had learned to stay away from the more popular tourist spots during the summer months. As good as the food was at the Lobster Pot and other places around it, and as much fun as a stroll on the pier could be on a nice summer night, the elbow-to-elbow summer crowds could be a hassle, especially on weekends.
The hostess said Wyler didn't work there, but she knew him and sent us further along the pier past the T-shirt shop and the seashell and candle shop to Shirley's ice cream parlor.
At the sound of the bell over the door and the assault of sweet and wholesome aromas, beautiful memories of a beautiful time washed over me. "I've always loved Shirley's," I sighed. "There's something a little magical about the place. Mom and Dad used to bring me here when I was little."
When my parents moved to the Himalayas eleven years ago, I'd thought it was a pretty random decision and, never completely understanding it, chose to stay here with my granddad, finish high school, and go to college. But before their move we were like a normal family—sort of. I mean we were all vegetarians, and there always seemed to be some down-on-his-luck stranger staying at our house and working his meals off, and then there were those times they'd go off to this Latin American jungle or that one to minister to orphans or parrots or monkeys or whatever. But otherwise, yeah, pretty normal.
Shirley's looked the same as it always had. The small round tables had chipped Formica tops, and the chair seats and backs were covered in red-and-white striped vinyl. Big tubs of ice cream were visible under the glass front of the freezer counter, and everyone who worked there wore a red-and-white bib apron and paper hat. That was the way Josh Wyler was dressed that day.
He looked up when we walked in, and I could tell by the puzzled look on his face that he thought he knew me from somewhere but couldn't remember exactly.
"Welcome to Shirley's. Flavor of the day is Bubblegum Frosting. One scoop or two?"
Tino and I crossed to the counter. "Hi, Josh," I said. "Remember me?"
He shrugged and shook his head a little.
"Last night?" I went on. "You brought me dinner."
He smiled then, and all his big teeth lined up like pickets on a fence as he pointed at me. "Oh, yeah, sure. In the fancy RV."
Tino nudged me. "Told you it was an RV."
"That was me all right," I said. "I was wondering about that."
"Yeah?" Josh picked up a rag and wiped a small spot of what looked like Shirley's Strawberry Dream Cream off the counter.
"How'd that work anyway? You said Sabrina sent you?"
He shook his head. "No. Least I don't think so. I said I was supposed to tell you"—he rolled his eyes up like he was concentrating—"it's from Sabrina. She thinks she might be out late, and she wants you to have something hot. Yeah, that was it. I never said Sabrina sent me. It was a guy who gave me the money to go pick it up, bring it back to him, and then take it to you."
"A guy?" Tino said, pressing forward. "What guy?"
Josh took a step back at Tino's intensity. "I dunno. Some guy, never saw him before."
"What'd he look like? Tall? Short? Thin? Fat? Light-skinned—"
Josh interrupted Tino with, "He was normal height, normal weight. He talked kinda funny, and he was wearing these weird clothes, like you might see in a movie."
"A movie?" I asked.
"Yeah. It was a suit with a funny coat with a long tail, kinda like some guys get married in. Only this one was tan not black."
Tino and I looked at each other and said at the same time, "Carlos. It was Carlos."
Josh shrugged again. "He didn't say his name. Just gave me money to pay for the order at Gino's and bring it back to him. So I did. Then he took it inside the drugstore with him and asked me to wait. I watched him buy a bottle of pills. When he came back, he handed me an extra thirty to run it up to Second Chance Rescue and look for the fancy RV, except he called it a motor coach."
"And you didn't know him before?" I asked.
Josh shook his head.
"Then how'd he find you?" Tino asked.
"I was just getting off the trolley after my shift here and heading for home." He paused and frowned. "What's up? Why are you asking so many questions? Is something going on?"
I nodded. "Yes, Josh. You could say something's going on. The man who paid you to pick up the food and deliver it to me drugged it and knocked me out. Then he stole a very valuable animal and carried it off."
Tino leaned his elbows on the counter, folded his hands, and dropped his chin onto his hands. His police instincts had kicked in, and he watched Josh's reaction as he said, "Mm-hmm, and then that guy up and got himself murdered."
I swore I saw the freckles on poor Josh's face turn bright red. "M-m-murdered?" The bell over the door jingled, and Josh looked up. "W-w-welcome to Sh-shirley's. Flavor of the day is…aw, heck, I don't care what it is." He turned back to Tino. "Murdered? Holy crap!"