Beach Bags and Burglaries (A Haley Randolph Mystery) (14 page)

“I
t’s b.s.,” Bella said. “You asks me, it’s b.s.”

Bella, Marcie, and I were seated at a table near the beach bar, watching as Sandy danced with Sebastian. We’d finished our horseback ride, taken a nap, had dinner, and were now having snacks and drinks by tiki torchlight to the sounds of reggae music and the pounding surf.

“I think they make a cute couple,” Marcie said.

“Something’s not right about that guy,” Bella said, shaking her head. “All that talk about owning his own consulting firm? No way. It’s b.s.”

I was with Bella on this one, but I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been suspicious enough to check out Sebastian on the Internet.

“Besides,” Bella said, “this is supposed to be a no-men vacation. I guess we’re changing that now—and me without my lucky panties.”

“You never heard from the security people about your panties?” Marcie asked.

“Not a single word,” Bella grumbled. “Some other woman is wearing my lucky panties—and probably getting lucky. Now
that’s
b.s.”

Marcie and I shared a glance. I knew we were both thinking that maybe the no-men aspect of our trip wasn’t such a hot idea after all. I was pretty sure that Marcie was still thinking about that first-date guy who hadn’t contacted her. And since Sandy had suggested it earlier today, the thought that Ty might show up at the resort for Yasmin’s wedding kept creeping into my head.

My cell phone rang. My heart jumped, thinking it might be Ty calling. Then my thoughts flashed on Jack—that happens a lot. But when I looked at the caller ID screen I saw that Detective Shuman was calling, and my heart jumped in a totally different way.

“Having fun?” he asked, when I answered.

“Sure,” I said, rising from my chair and stepping away from the table. “I’m on vacation.”

I guess he picked up on something in my voice—he’s a detective, after all—because he said, “Sounds like your trip needs a boost.”

“I’m having a great time,” I said. No way would I admit the truth.

“Sitting on the sidelines when you should be dancing?” Shuman asked.

Okay, that was weird.

“What makes you think I’m—”

“You and your friends should be on the dance floor,” Shuman said.

“How the heck would you know—”

I gasped and whirled around. I spotted Shuman standing near the bar, holding his cell phone up to his ear, and grinning.

Oh my God, I couldn’t believe he was here. And he looked great.

The last time I saw Shuman was when that whole thing with his girlfriend went down—long story—and he’d been a total wreck then. Now, his dark hair was blowing in the breeze. He had a definite island vibe going on with white trousers, a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled back, and flip-flops. He looked rested and rejuvenated.

I slid my phone into my pocket. Marcie and Bella both turned to see what had taken my attention so quickly.

“That’s Shuman. What’s he doing here?” Marcie said. “Wow, he looks awesome.”

“Hey,” Bella said, “I’ve seen that guy come into the store.”

“I’ll be back,” I said.

“Ask him if he’s got a brother,” Bella called. Shuman came forward and we met at the edge of the dance floor. Wow, these tiki torches, candles, and twinkle lights made for great lighting. I hoped it was doing as much for me as it was for Shuman.

“What the heck are you doing here?” I asked.

Shuman leaned closer.

Wow, he smelled great.

“I’m undercover,” he whispered.

Shuman was undercover? Ben was undercover? Maybe Luke was undercover? How come I couldn’t be undercover?

I’m definitely addressing that when this vacation is over.

“Let’s take a walk,” Shuman said, and nodded toward the beach.

We left the bar and dance floor—Sandy saw us and gave me a thumbs-up—and followed the path until it ended at the beach. The music faded and the surf grew louder. Tiny lights in the trees and shrubs twinkled.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you,” Shuman said.

My breath caught. I hadn’t expected to hear that, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to—not after what Shuman had been through with his girlfriend getting murdered not so long ago. I figured he was emotionally vulnerable, and no way did I want to take a chance that he might want to get involved with me at a time like this—I’d already dodged that bullet once.

“This murder investigation of yours may be bigger than you think,” Shuman said.

So he really was here just to talk about Jaslyn’s death. I kind of felt like an idiot now.

“How so?” I asked, anxious to keep the conversation going.

“After you asked me to check into Jaslyn Gordon’s boyfriend, Gabe Braxton,” Shuman said, “I did some digging and learned that Colby Rowan lives here at the resort.”

This was not exactly a brilliant piece of police work; it had been reported in
People
magazine. Still, I knew Shuman well enough to realize something more was coming.

“She was part of a robbery team that targeted upscale shops in L.A.,” Shuman said.

Again,
People
had covered it.

Maybe I should give him a subscription for Christmas.

“Colby was the advance person for the robberies,” Shuman said. “She dressed as if she belonged in those stores, thanks to her daddy’s billions, so she didn’t raise suspicion. She went in, checked out the security, the employees’ routines, delivery schedules, everything.”

This,
People
hadn’t reported—or if they had, Sandy hadn’t mentioned it.

“They got away with millions in jewelry, watches, statues, paintings, all kinds of high-end merchandise,” Shuman said.

“Was any of it recovered?” I asked.

“Some of it has surfaced overseas,” Shuman said. “One member of the team was never caught.”

Then it hit me. Oh my God, I might have solved two crimes.

“Was it Gabe Braxton?” I asked.

“Definitely not Braxton,” Shuman said.

Damn. I hate when that happens.

“But with the murder of the hotel maid here at the resort,” Shuman said, “I was able to convince the brass upstairs to let me come here and check things out, see what I could turn up on Colby’s accomplice.”

“LAPD is spending money for you to stay at this place?” Haley asked. “Those robberies happened years ago.”

“There’s always been considerable pressure on the department to close this case and recover the stolen goods,” Shuman said. “Sidney Rowan carries a lot of weight. He, apparently, doesn’t want that last gang member left at large, maybe causing problems for Colby in the future.”

“What kinds of problems?” I asked.

Shuman shrugged. “Implicating her in other aspects of the crimes.”

Then something occurred to me.

“Hey, isn’t Sidney Rowan dead?” I asked.

Shuman grinned. “He’s very much alive.”

Jeez, somebody should let
People
know about this.

“Our police chief would like nothing better than to make Rowan happy by putting the last thief behind bars,” Shuman said. “It never hurts to be in the good graces of a billionaire, especially if you have political aspirations.”

“Do you think there’s a connection between Jaslyn’s death and those old robberies?” I asked.

Honestly, I didn’t see it. But maybe Shuman knew something I didn’t.

“Two people were killed during those robberies,” Shuman said. “Witnesses claimed it was Colby, but their testimony never made it to trial.”

“Do you think Sidney Rowan paid them off?” I asked.

Shuman didn’t respond in the affirmative or negative, so I figured I had my answer.

I could see that happening. Like most dads, Rowan would have done anything to make things better for his daughter, so he sure as heck wouldn’t want anyone testifying to worse crimes than the robberies she’d already been charged with.

We stood there for a few minutes looking at each other. I stopped thinking about Jaslyn, Gabe, and Colby. I think Shuman did, too.

We both seemed to realize it at the same second.

“I guess I’d better go,” Shuman said.

“I guess,” I said.

Another few seconds passed. Light from the moon seemed to get softer, the ocean somehow sounded more intense, the breeze grew warmer.

Shuman drew closer, then stepped back.

“I’d really better go,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” I said.

We walked back down the path to the bar. The dance floor was packed now, and all the tables were taken. A limbo game had started up in the sand nearby, and four guys were playing darts.

“Want to join us?” I asked, and nodded toward Sandy, Marcie, and Bella, all seated at our table.

Shuman hesitated a bit, then shook his head. “No, I’ve got things to take care of.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” I said.

Shuman tried for a grin but couldn’t quite pull it off.

“Sure,” was all he managed.

He started to walk away when I remembered that he hadn’t given me the info I’d asked him for.

“What about Gabe Braxton?” I asked.

All attempts at a grin disappeared from Shuman’s face. He shifted into cop mode big-time.

“Stay away from Braxton,” he said.

I got a weird feeling.

“He was picked up for assault and domestic violence,” Shuman said.

Yikes! I hadn’t expected to hear that, but given his explosive temper I’d witnessed, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Then something else hit me.

“How did he get a job here?” I asked. “This place is super careful about everything that concerns the security of their guests. They’re bound to do background checks on all their employees.”

“Charges were dismissed,” Shuman said.

His expression shifted from cop mode to something else that I’d never seen before. I didn’t know what it meant.

“Stay away from Gabe Braxton, Haley. Do you hear me? Stay away,” Shuman said. “Don’t go near him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even let him know you’re alive. He’s dangerous.”

Now didn’t seem like the best time to mention that I’d already questioned Gabe, so what could I say but “Okay.”

Shuman turned on his lie-detecting, supercop-stink-eye glare—like he thought I wasn’t telling the truth, which I wasn’t, of course—then walked away.

I went back to our table. Sandy was on the dance floor with Sebastian again, and Bella was now talking to a guy I didn’t know at the bar.

“What’s Shuman doing here?” Marcie asked.

If anyone but Marcie had asked, I would have said he was simply there on vacation. But no way could I lie to my BFF. She’d see right through it.

That’s what BFFs
do
.

“He’s working a case,” I said, and lowered my voice. “Undercover.”

Marcie didn’t seem as impressed as I’d been with the whole undercover thing. What was that all about?

“The murder of that hotel maid?” Marcie asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” I said.

Okay, I knew that was a total lie, but an acceptable one. I couldn’t tell Marcie—not even my BFF—what Shuman was really up to.

BFFs
do
that, too.

“Where’s that waiter?” Marcie asked, gazing around the bar. “Never mind. I’ll get us fresh drinks.”

She left the table, and I had a major Shuman flashback.

It creeped me out thinking that I’d hunted down Gabe Braxton, introduced myself, asked him about Jaslyn, then deliberately antagonized him so he’d divulge more info—probably not my smartest move, given what Shuman had told me about that whole assault-domestic-violence thing.

But too late for that now. I couldn’t even promise myself that I’d steer clear of Gabe from now on, because his past troubles with the law made him a really great murder suspect.

For a few minutes I considered talking to security chief Walt Pemberton about Gabe’s history. But I didn’t know if the LAPD had looped in resort security on Shuman’s investigation. If I told Pemberton about Gabe, he’d want to know how I’d found out, and no way did I want to explain my connection to Shuman. Plus, without some reasonable explanation of where I’d obtained the info, Pemberton might report it to those two homicide detectives who’d interviewed me; they’d probably think I was making it up to throw suspicion off of myself. And, really, I’d just as soon not remind them that I was still around.

Besides, there was always a chance that Pemberton already knew about Gabe’s problems with the law—though why the resort would allow him to work here knowing that info, I had no clue—and I didn’t want to look like an idiot by telling him something he already knew, so I decided to keep my mouth shut since that would benefit
me
the most.

Then something else hit me—was Colby, with her criminal past and jail time, somehow involved with Gabe Braxton’s sort-of criminal past even though Shuman had said they weren’t connected? Maybe it was something he hadn’t discovered yet. Had Colby gotten the resort security staff to somehow forgo Gabe’s background check and hire him at her request? Were Gabe and Colby both involved in Jaslyn Gordon’s murder?

I thought about this for a few minutes, then realized that, while it made a great theory, there was no real evidence.

Damn. That whole I-need-evidence thing kept getting in the way.

Then something else hit me: why was I thinking about this now? I’m on vacation.

And why was I sitting here by myself? I knew three—count them, three—good-looking, single guys right here at the resort, and you’d think one of them would want to take me for a spin on the dance floor, or buy me a drink, or at least sit here and talk to me. Where was Luke? Ben? Why the heck had Shuman taken off?

My evening needed a boost.

I glanced around the bar and saw that Bella was talking to three guys now. I had no idea who they were, but I figured I should definitely find out.

I was just about to stand up, throw caution to the wind, and razzle-dazzle those guys with the magic that is uniquely me when Ben Oliver sat down next to me.

Jeez, where had he come from?

And why was he still wearing those same wrinkled khaki pants and that tired blue polo shirt?