Sunset Beach(66)

His freckled face showed a mixture of anger and indignation, and his chest rose and fell beneath the faded fabric of his Eagles “Hell Freezes Over” concert tour tee.

“No,” she said flatly. “Somebody’s lying.” She leaned across the table, both hands clenched around her glass. “That’s what I really wanted to talk to you about. I’m starting to think that Yvonne Howington was right. Maybe there was a cover-up. Maybe somebody at the law firm is in cahoots with Gulf Vista and its insurance carrier.”

Ben removed his glasses, wiped them on the hem of his shirt and replaced them. “Jesus! Are you seriously accusing Brice Campbell, your own father, of taking a payoff?”

“Maybe…?” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know what to think. That’s why I wanted to talk this out with you. You’ve worked for the firm for how long?”

“Two and a half years. But Brice is your father, for God’s sake. How can you believe he’s capable of something like that?”

“I don’t know what he is or isn’t capable of,” she said calmly. “In the past, certainly, he’s had the morals of an alley cat. He cheated on my mother, he cheated on Joan. It’s not that hard to believe he is also ethically challenged. And remember, he hasn’t been in my life, not like a real father, since I was fifteen years old. So I don’t exactly have him up on your typical father-daughter pedestal.”

“Wow.” Ben pushed his chair away from the table. “Talk about unresolved issues.”

“Yeah. But come on, I’m guessing you know him better than me. Do you think it’s even remotely possible that Brice, or somebody else, like maybe even Zee, could have taken a payoff here?”

“No,” he said flatly. “Why would they do that? That’s some crazy conspiracy theory shit. Your dad and Zee don’t need to take payoffs. They’re making huge bank as it is. Brice is probably going to ask for a six-figure settlement for this new slip-and-fall case. That’s one case out of how many active cases the firm has right now? Three dozen, four dozen? The firm is doing great. He doesn’t need to cheat to win.”

“Somebody is covering up something at that hotel,” Drue said. “Jazmin Mayes was beaten and strangled and her body was dumped in a pile of dirty sheets. I can’t get that image out of my mind. I saw the laundry room where she was killed, Ben. I’ve been to the grandmother’s house and I’ve met Jazmin’s daughter. What happened to Jazmin isn’t right. And if I can do something to figure out who’s responsible for her death, I will.”

The waitress paused at their table. “Everything okay here? Anybody need another drink? Or dessert? We’ve got tres leches cake today.”

“I’m good,” Ben said.

“Just the check, please,” Drue told her. She looked over at her friend. “I guess the rats need to get back to their cubes, right?”

Ben hesitated, then touched her hand. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. Disappointed, that’s all. I had to talk to somebody about this thing. And I was hoping that you’d see what I see. And care about it as much as I do.”

She opened her purse, took out two twenties and laid them on top of the check the waitress placed discreetly at the edge of the table. “Anyway, thanks for listening.”

“Any time,” Ben said earnestly.

They stood to go, and saw that the restaurant, which had been half empty when they arrived, was now crowded with the downtown lunch crowd, a line of customers impatiently jostling behind the hostess stand, blocking their way to the door.

Ben lightly placed his hand at the small of Drue’s back, guiding her through the crowd. When they emerged from the dim coolness of the restaurant back onto the sidewalk, they both blinked in the bright sunlight and blast-furnace afternoon heat.

“Hey, Drue?” he said, as they set out on the five-block walk back to the office.

“Yeah?” She turned to look at him.

“I’m really glad you trusted me enough to talk about this stuff today. But I have to warn you, if you’re gonna keep working at CCK, you’re going to have to understand that bad shit happens to good people. Not just sometimes, but all the time. You have to stop taking this stuff so personally. Okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled. “I’ll try.”





32


As soon as Drue sat back down at her desk, but before she could don what she thought of as her “office sweater,” her phone chirped with an incoming text. It was from Brice.

Drue: See me in Wendy’s office. ASAP! Urgent!

“What now?” she mumbled.

“Huh?” Ben rolled his chair backward and poked his head around the corner of the cubicle.

“I’ve been summoned. To meet with Dad.”

“He probably wants to congratulate you on locking down the 7-Eleven thing,” Ben said. “Just go.”

She trudged toward the office, her curiosity growing with every step.

“Come in,” Wendy called, after Drue tapped lightly on her closed office door.

She was surprised to see Wendy and Brice sitting close together on the leather sofa in Wendy’s office, Brice’s arm flung casually over his wife’s shoulder. His face was flushed; Wendy’s was, as usual, inscrutable, at least to Drue.