Page 45 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

“Curiouser and curiouser!”

—Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

After my shower, I was relaxing on the patio when Braden called.

“Is everything okay?” I immediately asked, almost jumping out of my recliner.

I could think of a hundred things that might have gone wrong at the office. I began to panic because I hadn’t been watching

the news, I hadn’t read even one financial paper since I’d arrived on the island, and my neglect meant I’d let all my clients

down.

“Fine,” he said, sounding odd. “Are you okay?”

“You’re calling me on a Friday afternoon. I thought the stock market crashed or something.”

He laughed. “Mia, the world is running surprisingly smoothly right now. No major or minor upheavals in the market. I’ve reviewed

all client accounts per your instructions, and there are no issues. I adjusted Mrs. Grossman’s portfolio as you indicated

and sent her a revised statement.”

“Thanks,” I said, and relaxed. “I know you’re on top of everything. I just worry.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he said. “I’m calling because you wanted information.”

“Right.” I’d forgotten. “Sherry Morrison.”

“I emailed you a bunch of stuff, but the gist of it is that she’s in financial hot water.

She filed for Chapter 13 bankruptcy last year.

I pulled the filing and sent it to you, but the basics are she’s being forced to sell her house to pay for her debt.

The problem is she doesn’t have much equity—she took out a second mortgage with really bad terms shortly after her husband died.

The only reason to accept those terms, in my opinion, was because her credit was shot and she had erratic income. I could run her credit—”

“No, I don’t want to cross a line. I’m doing this for a friend, but I don’t want you or me to get into trouble. You’re sure

it’s her Chapter 13?”

“Yes. A lot of credit card debt, the two mortgages, and tax liens.”

“Did you find out anything about her employment? She has a business.”

“I don’t think she does much business. She doesn’t advertise. Her website was last updated three years ago. Did you know that

she’s been seen on the arm of a bunch of different professional sports players?”

“I know,” I said.

“What’s really going on?” Braden asked.

“I’ll tell you everything when I get home.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You sound preoccupied.”

“I’m great. I’m relaxing on my own private beach. I have plans this evening I’m really looking forward to.” I might or might

not tell him about falling into the pit.

“Well, then, I’ll see you next week.”

I ended the call and realized my trip was half-over. Yet... the resort was giving me three free days for finding a dead

body. Depending on how things went with Jason tonight, maybe I should ask to extend my vacation by three days. Considering

I had rarely taken time off for the last five years, I knew Stuart wouldn’t care. He’d probably be thrilled.

A flood of anxiety washed over me. I needed to be in the office next week. I trusted Braden, of course, but I had duties and responsibilities and clients who depended on me. If I told them I would be back from my vacation on Wednesday, I needed to be back from my vacation on Wednesday.

The thought of going back to my office was borderline depressing.

I pushed all that aside and realized that I was hungry. I hadn’t finished the sandwich because I’d been too nervous after

Tristan flagged us down. I didn’t know what Jason had planned, but I didn’t want to be hangry when we met up. I headed to

the Blue Dahlia for a snack and a second drink to settle my nerves. Not nerves—it was more the thrill of anticipation as I

let my mind wander back to that kiss last night.

It was surprisingly quiet as I walked to the bar. No kids playing, only a few people lounging on the beach. The pool was unmoving.

Two people sat at the pool bar, and four women in yoga clothes were the only guests at the Blue Dahlia, drinking and eating

appetizers from the perpetual buffet.

I made myself a small plate of food and sat at the bar, where Callie was still working, and asked her for another of her delicious

spritzers.

I went through the images of Diana’s book on my phone, working through all the angles. There were a lot of reasons to blackmail

someone—adultery, stealing from a business partner, some unknown crime, more. Or, as Anja was going through, exposing a long-held

secret that would hurt people but wasn’t a crime.

Secrets... Ultimately, blackmail came down to a secret that someone was willing to pay to keep buried. But how long would

someone pay? At some point, the truth would get out... unless the blackmailer was confident that Diana was the only one

who knew the secret.

I thought about Gino, and then remembered the pictures I took on Tristan’s computer. They were difficult to read because I

hadn’t taken the time to zoom and focus, and at first I didn’t see anything of interest. But the last line of the performance

review was interesting.

Discussed repeated trips to St. Croix. Gino assured me he is no longer gambling.

Gambling would explain a lot. It might explain why he left the police force, if he was taking money from busts and spending it on cards or horses.

It would also explain what Diana might have on him.

The big question was, how would Diana know about Gino Garmon?

Did someone tell her? Had she researched staff before she arrived? Most of the guests

were wealthy, so she might have been in their same circles or read gossip rags or could call friends for dirt. But staff was

distinctly different.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement near the bar. A staff member came in with supplies. He was of slight build, an

older teen. There was something familiar about him—it was the way he moved.

A flash of me treading water after jumping into the ocean that first day... and the person who was going through my things.

I’d had a sense it was a he , someone not too big. Someone who moved like a teenager...

“Hey, you—” I glanced at his chest. He wore a thin jacket, and I couldn’t see his name tag.

He looked at me, eyes wide, and I knew this was the kid who had torn the page from my book.

Then he turned and walked away as if I hadn’t spoken to him.

I glanced around for Callie, but she was talking to the older women. I pursued the kid. He walked briskly through the center

of the resort, not running, but with purpose—and the purpose was to avoid talking to me.

“Hey!” I called. No one was at the registration desk, and I didn’t see any staff around to help. The kid entered the spa,

and I followed.

He wasn’t in the lobby. I opened the door to the treatment rooms, and he wasn’t in the hall, but I remembered from my massage

that there was another exit.

I left and ran around to the back just as he exited the building.

I grabbed his arm. “Stop,” I said in my sternest voice. “Do I need to take you to security?”

Eyes wide, he shook his head rapidly back and forth. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You tore a page from my book. Why?”

“Me? No.”

But he averted his eyes, clearly lying. I wasn’t a good liar, but this kid was even worse.

“Yes, you. Someone else stole the book from my room. Or was that you, too? Did you steal the wrong page, so took the entire

book?”

“I didn’t! I swear. Please—I’ll lose my job.” His eyes darted left and right as if looking for an escape.

“I won’t tell security if you tell me why you took that page.”

His lip quivered. He genuinely looked terrified. “I can’t. He’ll—look, ma’am, I’m sorry. I don’t have the page. I—I—I gave

it to someone. And I—I didn’t take the book. I swear, I didn’t take the book, just the one page.”

“Who did you give it to?”

“I can’t.” Then he kicked me in the shin and ran.