Sunset Beach(87)
It was love at first sight. The set would be right at home in the dining room at Coquina Cottage. How much? she wondered. The car behind her gave a warning beep and she looked up to see that the light had turned green. Reluctantly, she drove on.
Her plan to finish fixing up and furnishing the cottage had been put on hold for weeks now, due to her growing obsession over the Jazmin Mayes case. In the meantime, the bright blue tarp on her roof had faded and cracked in the relentless May sun, and the water stains on the ceilings were growing by the day. And just that morning, she’d found a legal-looking notice from the city hanging on her front door, warning her that the tarp’s continued placement on her roof was a violation of city building code. The notice gave her thirty days to remove the tarp.
She had to at least get the roof patched, if not totally replaced. And oh, how she longed for air-conditioning. Drue had placed box fans on either side of her bedroom and in the kitchen, but mostly they just stirred up the hot, damp air streaming in through her open windows.
Ever since receiving her first CCK paycheck she’d placed herself on a strict budget, but her bank balance was still pathetically lean. Air-conditioning would have to wait, because a patch job on the roof was now priority one.
And that gorgeous rattan dining room set? Just moved to the end of the wish list.
* * *
Corey was well into his workout by the time she arrived at the Land’s End pool. She sat on the side of the pool, dangling her legs in the water, watching, with envy, as his long, lean body cut effortlessly through the turquoise water. He wore swim goggles, and his bald head shone in the late-afternoon sun.
Drue slipped into the water and began the warm-up routine he’d taught her, starting out slowly, clinging to the side of the pool, doing leg stretches, then marching in place, pumping her arms, gradually lifting her knees higher. She walked back and forth across the shallow end, watching Corey’s progress to avoid a collision in his lane. Finally, she went back to the side of the pool and did several repetitions of knee lifts, knee-to-chest stretches and flutter kicking.
In between counting her reps, her thoughts strayed back to her conversation with Ben. He was right, of course, to point out that she still hadn’t managed to prove that Jazmin Mayes hadn’t been killed while on the job. Even if she managed to uncover the truth behind the girl’s murder, it wouldn’t bring back Aliyah’s mother, and might not even give Yvonne Howington a legitimate claim of criminal negligence against Gulf Vista.
She climbed out of the pool and collapsed onto a nearby chaise lounge, and a moment later, Corey joined her.
“How do you feel?” he asked, toweling himself dry.
“Tired,” she admitted. “But I think the knee is getting stronger. And I’d forgotten how good it feels to move after a long day spent sitting on my ass in an office.”
“Let me see,” he said. She extended her leg and he leaned over, gently probing the scar with long, suntanned fingers.
He looked up and smiled. “It’s noticeably better.” He grabbed his plastic gallon jug of go-juice and took a long drink.
“How are things going at the office?” He offered her the jug, but she made a face and declined.
“Some good, some bad,” she replied. “The big news is that Wendy, my stepmother, scared the living shit out of me today by almost going into labor in my car.”
“You never told me you were going to be a big sister,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And have you ever referred to Wendy as your stepmother before?”
“Some things take time to get used to,” she said tartly, ignoring his taunt. “She’s not due until November, but the doctor said she was having premature labor, so she’s put her on bed rest.”
“How did your chat with that housekeeper from Gulf Vista go?”
“I’m more convinced than ever that somebody covered up something at that hotel,” she replied. “I also talked to Jazmin’s best friend last night. You wouldn’t believe the crap that was going on at Gulf Vista.”
She quickly filled him in on what she’d learned about the toxic atmosphere of sexual harassment at the hotel.
“God, men are pigs,” Corey said. “How do you women stand it?”
“After a while, you just get numb to it,” Drue said. “But not all guys are pigs. I had lunch today with one of my coworkers, Ben. He’s a little nerdy, yeah. I mean, his idea of fun is designing video games. But he and this other guy at work, Jonah, fixed my car, and wouldn’t let me pay them. Ben knows I’ve been digging into the Jazmin Mayes case. He insists that there’s nothing sketchy about the way the firm handled Yvonne’s case, but at least he listens without staring at my boobs the whole time I’m talking.”
“Have you told that police detective about the sexual harassment stuff?” Corey asked.
“I’ve tried to call her several times today, to tell her about meeting Neesa Vincent last night after I talked to Jaz’s boyfriend. I’ve left a bunch of voice mail messages, but she hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
Corey pulled on a T-shirt. “What’s your next step?”
“I was wondering,” she said slowly. “Do you have a laptop? I want to take another look at the video from the hotel’s security cameras, but I didn’t have a minute to spare at work today.”