Page 19 of Scripted for Love and Poison (Sol and Luke Mystery #2)
T o say that he wasn’t happy was an understatement.
He was fuming. Not only had he been stood up by officer Tom Owens that morning, he was starting to get breathless.
Running after a potential witness at full speed for more than ten minutes would do that to you.
Even if, like Luke, you ran often. But there was the stay-in-shape type of running and the this-potential-witness-is-looking-more-suspicious-by-the-minute type of running.
And this was most definitely the second kind.
After several repeated calls to Chef Gill García that had yielded no fruit that morning, Luke had called the main line at Star System Catering.
There, a friendly receptionist had informed him that Chef García wasn’t avoiding his calls.
She was simply enjoying a much-deserved break, taking a three-day, completely off-the-grid backpacking trip somewhere called Lost Coast. Luke had rolled his eyes when he’d heard that.
How could people be and sound so stereotypically Californian?
And who would find the prospect of sleeping on the ground and being exposed to the elements even for three days alluring?
He was currently doing the whole sleeping-on-the-floor thing with a roof over his head and still hating it.
As for the elusive Vinny Green, Luke had somehow managed not only to get a telephone number for the waiter who’d allegedly served Travis Wise’s food at the awards ceremony, but an actual home address from Star System Catering’s helpful receptionist. Luke was starting to realize his London accent may have some advantages with the locals.
They all seemed charmed by him the moment he opened his mouth.
After getting Vinny Green’s information, he’d replied to Alex, who’d wanted to make sure he was all right after the beef with Sol the previous night.
Luke had assured him that all was good and then had asked the Angeleno teenager about the appropriateness of the new address he had for Vinny Green.
Somewhere called Long Beach. After being informed his new destination was, once again, far and extremely inconvenient, if somehow charming because of its proximity to the ocean, Luke had resignedly taken an Uber bound for Long Beach.
He wasn’t big on California beaches—or California anything else, for that matter.
He’d been barely out of the car for two minutes and had knocked on a door on the first floor of a run-down, two-story apartment building similar to the one he’d visited the day before.
After five minutes waiting at the door, he’d been convinced the whole trip there had been in vain when a dirty-blond, long-haired man in his early-to-mid-twenties holding a joint on his lips had opened the door.
He wore a neoprene wetsuit unzipped and peeled down to his waist, exposing his bare chest, and he had only flip-flops on his feet.
He was almost like a much shorter version of Chris Hemsworth in Thor (and in surfer mode), and Luke couldn’t help but wonder if everyone in that town really looked like a movie star.
The man had taken a look at Luke, pushed him aside, and started running. And Luke, of course, had followed.
Leave it to a suspect who was probably high, and wearing flip-flops, to make Luke sweat!
Was the detective really tired of jogging through alleys and swerving trash bins in the otherwise calm and quiet beach town?
He was. Not only that, the surfer chap was getting farther away from Luke every passing minute. Could he be in better shape than Luke?
“He’s probably ten years younger than me,” Luke muttered under his breath, still chasing the suspect.
He realized he was starting to sound like Sol.
He’d never understood her obsession with age when she looked as great as she did.
But he was beginning to share in his partner’s insecurities.
He’d make sure to let her know that he understood her a little bit better the next time they were alone, if that ever occurred.
Surfer chap was getting farther ahead and, with him, Luke’s chances of finding out who could have poisoned Travis Wise’s food—and getting on a plane back to London.
Surfer chap turned around as if to see how far he’d managed to get from Luke.
He laughed at Luke’s breathlessness, the joint still hanging from his mouth.
But he hadn’t seen a second surfer chap skating through the alley, his wetsuit unzipped and open at the chest, carrying a giant board on his right side.
Luke watched it happen almost frame by frame. The skater hadn’t been able to avoid the collision with the runaway surfer chap, who hadn’t noticed him approaching.
They both ended up on the ground, accompanied by a big thud of the surfboard hitting the pavement and the skateboard rolling aimlessly on the street. Luke accelerated in their direction.
“Are you alright?” he asked the wetsuit-wearing men, scanning them both to make sure they were unharmed. “Got you,” he told the surfer chap he’d been pursuing, grabbing his right arm to help him stand up—and to make sure he wouldn’t flee again.
“Dude, karma really is a bitch!” The short Chris Hemsworth laughed and showed the most perfect of white smiles.
···
Ten minutes after that, Luke and the surfer chap, who’d turned out to be Vinny Green, were sharing a concha de cacao and a pastelito de guava at the sidewalk patio of Gusto Bread.
Would Luke have preferred to be savoring an English breakfast tea with those pastries instead of a yerba mate?
Obviously. But he was doing his best at pretending to be cosmopolitan and open-minded.
“So Chef García told you I was looking for you?” Luke asked Vinny as he took out his sunglasses from the interior pocket of his jacket, put them on, and let himself enjoy the warmth of the sun on his skin.
Wasn’t it supposed to be winter here as well?
The idea of an alfresco snack in January in London would absolutely be out of the question.
But he was not enjoying the LA experience at all, nonetheless.
“Yeah, man. She called to warn me that some hunky British dude—looks like an Italian model or something—is convinced I poisoned that critic guy at the party the other night.”
“What? I never said such a thing!” objected Luke, though he couldn't help but feel pleased with how he’d been described.
“Gill said she tried to, like, run interference or whatever.”
Luke knew the chef’s supposed interest in him had been dubious. Turns out she was playing him. “She gave me a fake address and fake telephone number.”
“But she said you’d probably bust me and try to pin it on me,” Vinny continued.
“That’s why you ran away?”
“Nah, dude, if I come clean, I’m not gonna get in trouble, right?”
“Did you put cyanide in Travis Wise’s food?” Luke asked Vinny.
“Cyanide? Whoa, that sounds nasty! I don’t mess with chemicals, man. I’m all about the natural stuff. I only bathe in water, coconut oil, and lavender infusions.”
“Of course you do,” Luke said.
“That thing does wonders for your skin, man. You’re totally welcome to join me next time I bathe. I’m all about saving water, so I usually only do it once a week, but hey, I’d totally make an exception for you.” Vinny winked at Luke.
“Thanks for the offer,” Luke said, blushing. Was his accent so irresistible, really? Why did everyone in this city keep flirting with him? Even if sometimes it was fake flirting. “So you didn’t poison Travis Wise, then?”
“Nah, man, not with that cyanide stuff,” Vinny said.
Luke’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“That’s why I bailed when I saw you, man. During the awards, Gill told me there was a nut allergy at table 13, and she gave me the plate for the dude with the allergy. But I got distracted and totally spaced out.”
“Distracted? ”
“I was carrying two plates—one regular, one no nuts. But as I was heading out of the kitchen, this chick offered me a vape, and you know, it’s kinda rude to say no, right?”
“You mean you stopped for a smoke?”
“Yeah, man. Life’s short, and it’s the little moments that count.”
Luke had to admit there was a lot of wisdom in Vinny’s words. “So what happened to the plates?”
“I left them—somewhere.”
“Unattended?”
“I mean, there were lots of people around—waiters, partygoers, celebs. It’s not like the plates were alone, dude,” Vinny said, and he laughed at his own attempt at a joke. “But I think I ended up serving that Travis Wise dude the regular food instead of the no-nuts grub, man.”
“Whose food did you serve Travis?” Luke said, straightening his back on the chair and feeling like he was finally making some progress.
“Dunno, the one for the guy who was sitting next to him, I think.”
Luke went back to the night at the awards, picturing everyone seated around table 13. He knew exactly who’d been by Travis Wise’s side. But had the poisoned food been intended for that person?
Luke’s phone buzzed then, and he saw Sol’s name on the screen.
“Mind if I take this? It’s my partner,” Luke told Vinny. He wouldn’t normally take a personal call while talking to a witness, but he knew Sol would be texting first if it wasn’t important.
“Nah, man, gotta keep the main squeeze happy,” Vinny said with a wide smile. Luke wasn’t sure how Sol would take it if she knew she’d been referred to as his main squeeze .
“Ciao, cara,” Luke answered the phone the way he liked doing with her.
“I think I got into trouble.” Sol’s voice sounded anguished.
“What happened?”
“There’s been a death, and apparently I’m the last person to see the victim alive. The police want to talk to me,” Sol explained.
“Are you alright?” Luke stood from his chair and gathered all his stuff, making an apologetic gesture to Vinny. He needed to find her. “And who’s dead?” he asked, even if he had a slight premonition.
“I’m perfectly fine. But Jason Zit, apparently, not so much.”