“Ms. Roberts. Fancy meeting you here.” He waited, clearly looking for an answer as to what I was doing in a dead woman’s room. A woman whose body I’d discovered only a few hours earlier.
I knew from my crime shows that guilty people babbled nervously, and even though I was nervous as all get out, no way was I going to babble. Nope. I was going to be cool as a cucumber.
“Oh, I was just, you know, passing by. Door was open. Probably the cleaning people? Anyway, I was curious, you know. I’ve never seen a dead body before. Certainly not a murdered one. We writers are a...curious lot. Thought I’d, um, see where it happened. Well, not “it,” per se, since she probably got killed on the beach, right? But, you know, the place she lived, er, stayed...” I trailed off as Costa’s expression never changed. So much for not babbling. Nerves. They always got to me.
“Curious, huh?”
“Oh, um, yes. Very. Writer thing. You know.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
“Yes, you said that already.” He gave me a look that said he didn’t quite believe me. Probably he could arrest me for contaminating the crime scene or interfering with a murder investigation or something. “You know I could arrest you for interfering with a homicide investigation.”
The man really was a mind reader.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again. I didn’t touch anything. Promise,” I blathered like a lunatic. “Well, except the door handle, of course. And the slider door. I wanted to see how much better her balcony was.” Oh, good way to incriminate yourself, Viola. Let him know you were jealous of her balcony. Which I wasn’t. Much.
“I suppose the crime scene tape disappeared by itself.”
“Uhh, well, no. I took that down myself,” I admitted. I was in for it now.
“Hmm.” That one sound held a wealth of meaning. None of it boded well for me.
“I promise, if you let me go, I’ll never enter this room again.” I figured it was a promise I could keep since the only clue I’d found was now residing in my pocket. I probably should give it to Costa, but now that he’d caught me in Natasha’s room, I’d likely just moved right to the top of his suspect list. I had even more of a reason to solve her murder now and even less of a reason to show him what I’d found. He’d probably think I planted it.
Costa paused for the longest time. Long enough to leave me squirming. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But, Ms. Roberts, stay out of my investigation.” He had no need to spell it out. The underlying threat was clear.
“Sure thing, detective,” I agreed and slipped out the door before he could change his mind.
“I KNEW THIS WAS A HORRIBLE idea,” Cheryl wailed over her cheeseburger. “That detective has it in for you now.” The breeze off the ocean ruffled her hair. The Flying Fish Grill had wide windows that were always left open to the sea air. It was one of my favorite eating spots on the resort grounds. It was great for people-watching, too.
“It’ll be fine,” I assured her around a mouthful of grilled chicken and avocado sandwich. A blob of mustard oozed out the other end and plopped on my blue blouse. I sighed as I dabbed it off. Par for the course. The curse of large bosoms. “Sure, Costa’s probably more suspicious of me than ever, but I am going to prove to him that neither of us are killers.”
Cheryl’s brown eyes widened. “What?” she all but shrieked as she dropped her burger back into its basket, sending ketchup droplets shooting across the table. None of them ended up on her. Charmed, that one. “I thought you promised to stay out of the investigation.”
“I had my fingers crossed,” I said smugly.
Cheryl let out a strangled sound and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, sweet heaven above. This is a horrible idea, Viola. You’re bound to get yourself killed or wind up in jail or something.”
I waved that off like the nonsense it was. Whoever had killed Natasha had no reason to kill me. Unless I discovered their identity and turned them into the police, of course, but I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. As for ending up in jail, that was a real possibility, but only if I didn’t prove my innocence first.
“Look,” I said, “I found this in Natasha’s room. It looks like she wrote something on it. Maybe it’s important.” I slid the piece of notebook paper across the table. Cheryl snatched it up and held it to the light with a frown.
“You can’t read anything. The impressions are too faint.”
“Right, which is why I need a pencil.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could respond, a shadow fell across the table. I glanced up to see Lucas Salvatore. His white linen shirt looked crisp and clean against his tanned skin. His hair was perfect, not a strand out of place. Unlike mine. Between the wind and the humidity, I was beginning to look like the victim of a lightning strike. Why did he have to look so perfectly yummy, darn him?
“Good afternoon, ladies. May I join you?”
I opened my mouth to tell him to go away. I didn’t need Lucas getting involved in my little plans, but before I could say a thing Cheryl batted her eyelashes and purred, “But of course. Please have a seat.”
The metal chair legs scraped softly against the tile as he made himself comfortable. “Now, what was it about needing a pencil?” he asked.
“Viola found a clue. To Natasha’s death,” Cheryl blurted, picking up her burger again.
I glared at her. The woman hadn’t an inkling how to keep a secret. “Cheryl, that’s on the down low.”
“Don’t worry,” Lucas said, giving me a meaningful
