Sunset Beach(101)
Drue paced around the office, too keyed up to sit for another minute. Jazmin Mayes had been killed at the Gulf Vista nearly two years ago, and now she was so close to finding the truth about her murder, she had to do something.
She called Corey. The phone rang four times, but finally he answered.
“Hello?” His voice sounded groggy. She glanced up at the clock on the office wall. It was after ten.
“Oh no. Did I wake you up?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah. I’ve got my Iron Man thing tomorrow. What’s up?”
The words poured out in a torrent, tumbling over one another so fast she knew she was barely making sense.
“Corey, I got the unedited security tape from the Gulf Vista. I’ve been watching it, here at work, all night. And I think I’ve figured out what happened, but I need to go over to the hotel and get a look at the last room Jazmin cleaned that night.”
He yawned loudly. “Okay, but it’ll have to wait until Sunday. I’ve gotta be over in Tampa at six tomorrow morning, and I’ll be in no shape to do anything after that.”
“Sunday?” She didn’t bother trying to hide her disappointment. “I really want to go over there tonight. It won’t take that long, I swear. I just need—”
“Honey, I can’t,” Corey said. “I’m sorry, but I promise, I’ll go with you Sunday.” He yawned again. “Wish me luck for tomorrow.”
“Good luck,” she said reluctantly.
She hesitated for a moment, then tried calling Ben. He might disagree with her decision to keep poking around in the investigation, but she felt sure that if she laid out the facts for him, he’d listen to reason.
The call went directly to voice mail. If he and Jonah were still at Taco Truck, he probably couldn’t even hear his phone over the noise of the Friday night crowd. Should she leave a message?
“Hey, Ben. It’s Drue. Listen, I know you told me to leave it alone, but I think I might have uncovered something really big on the Jazmin Mayes case. I want to go out to the Gulf Vista and check out a hunch, and I could really use a wingman if you’re available. Call me as soon as you get this, okay?”
Drue considered calling Jonah, but discarded the idea almost immediately. Things were still at the awkward stage between them. That might change after their date Saturday night, but for now, she decided against roping him into her scheme.
* * *
She pulled the white Bronco up to the security gate at the Gulf Vista resort. Two cars were in front of her, and she inched forward, slowly, until she reached the security gate. The guard, a wiry, twenty-something white woman with a clipboard clamped under her arm, greeted her with a businesslike nod. “Welcome to the Gulf Vista. Name and room number?”
“Oh, I’m not a guest,” Drue said, offering her a sweet smile. “Just joining friends.”
“Did your friends call the gate to get a pass left for you?”
“Well, um, I’m not sure,” Drue said.
The guard consulted her clipboard. “Name?”
“Drue. Campbell, like the soup.”
“Nope.”
“They probably forgot,” Drue confided. “It’s a bachelorette party, and the maid of honor is a total space cadet.”
“Not my problem,” the guard said. She looked past Drue at a car that had just pulled in behind the Bronco. “Gonna ask you to move along, ma’am.”
* * *
She drove home to Coquina Cottage and paced around the compact living room. Still no callbacks, either from Rae Hernandez or Ben. Drue could hear Sherri’s voice in her head, repeating one of her favorite sayings: “If you want something done, do it yourself.”
“I will, by God,” Drue muttered. “And if I can’t get in the front door, Mom, I’ll go in the back.”
She changed out of her work clothes and into her best beach cover-up, a loud pink and lime green floral Lily Pulitzer number she’d picked up at her favorite thrift store back in Fort Lauderdale. She’d never cared for the pom-pom trim, but the top did have deep in-seam pockets, perfect to stash her cell phone, house keys and some folded-up cash money.
Her stomach rumbled as she passed through the kitchen and she realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since that slice of pizza earlier. She grabbed a protein bar from her grandmother’s cookie jar on the counter and slipped out the sliding-glass doors and onto the deck. The locking mechanism on the doors had rusted in the salt air, and when she was inside, she simply jammed a sawed-off broomstick into the track. Every time she walked out onto the deck she vowed that her next paycheck would go toward installing a new lock. Right after a laptop, but before the new roof.
She was halfway down the beach when she remembered the key card she’d lifted on her last visit to the hotel. She turned around, found the key on top of her dresser and doubled back, headed for the bright lights of the Gulf Vista. Walking on the uneven sand, her knee twinged, but she kept going until she reached the gate that separated the back of the resort from the public beach.
She looked around, swiped the card and tugged at the gate. It didn’t budge. She tried again, then gave up. Maybe the hotel locks had been re-programmed. She didn’t have time to wonder. Drue glanced up at the deep blue sky. There was a new moon tonight, mostly obscured by heavy cloud cover. The beach was deserted and cast in darkness, but music wafted from the resort’s pool area.