“Where are you going?” Cheryl demanded as I marched toward the door.
“I need to talk to Kyle. Now.”
“But...” she sputtered, “you’re not even properly dressed.”
“No time.” I shoved open the door and marched down the walkway, Cheryl hot on my heels. Lucas wasn’t far behind with Lu and Maggie trotting along eagerly.
“Listen. Viola. I know you’re on a mission to prove your innocence—” Cheryl started.
“Our innocence.”
“Right. Sure. But don’t you think you should call Detective Costa?”
I snorted. “He’d just screw it up. The man clearly doesn’t know his head from his tailpipe.”
“But Viola—.”
I whirled to face her. “Listen to me, Cheryl. I’ve got to do this, okay? I’ve got to know the truth.” I didn’t bother waiting for her reply. I marched on, determined. It was time to finish this.
“WHERE’S KYLE?” I BARKED imperiously at the bartender, a young woman with a dark pixie cut and a cute pair of silver-rimmed glasses. I hadn’t seen her before.
She blinked. “Er...who’s asking?”
“A friend.” Might be a stretch—okay, more than a stretch—but what did she know? I tapped my foot impatiently and gave her my best authoritarian stare.
She pointed at a door marked employees only. “But you can’t go in there.”
“Watch me.” I marched over and threw open the door. It led into a short hallway. Very depressing with utilitarian off-white tiles and matching walls. The overhead fluorescents flickered ominously. Or maybe that was just me. I had been accused once or twice of having an overactive imagination.
To the right were two doors clearly marked as restrooms. Straight ahead, a fire door led to what was likely the outside. On the left was an open doorway leading into a small kitchen/breakroom area. Kyle was sitting alone at one of the tables, eating breakfast.
“Kyle.” I stopped in front of him. “We need to talk.”
He gave me a once-over, his expression startled. “Are you all right, miss?”
I glanced down at myself realizing for the first time what I sight I must make in my white and blue striped pajamas underneath my brown and turquoise maxi dress. “Yes. Busy morning is all. Can we talk?”
He glanced around. There were half a dozen other people in the room watching us with interest. This suited me fine, but he clearly didn’t want an audience.
“Let’s go outside,” he suggested.
“Fine. Whatever.” I followed him into the hall and through the fire door. Outside was a small covered patio with a picnic bench and a collection of cheap plastic ashtrays. Clearly the designated smoking spot. A narrow wooden gate opened to the lush resort grounds. Kyle led me through the gate and down one of the more overgrown paths. Frankly, the Fairwinds needed to rethink their groundskeepers. The path opened up into what must be the overflow storage for beach toys. Kayaks, paddle boats, and other items littered the ground around a small shed that looked stuffed to the gills. Most of the items appeared worn and in need of repair.
“Now, what did you want to talk about?” Kyle stood, legs braced apart, arms crossed over his chest. He looked like a sullen teenager.
“I just found out some interesting information.”
He quirked an eyebrow, looking only mildly interested. “Yeah? What?”
I gave him a cool look. “Seems you and Andrea Schwartz, the second murder victim, were an item.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s old news. We broke up ages ago.”
“Really? Because I have a witness that saw you kissing her just a few days ago. Right before you took up with Natasha, in fact.”
He shrugged. “We hooked up. So what?”
“So, the same witness saw you arguing with Andrea just a short while before her murder.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and his lips grew tight. “Lots of people fight. It’s no big deal.”
“Really? You break up with one woman to date another only to have the second one get murdered. Then you argue with the first, and she’s murdered. It’s curious, don’t you think?”
He shrugged again, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes were dark and angry. I was definitely hitting a nerve.
“Not to mention this.” I pulled the small silver bracelet out of my pocket. “Interesting that you pretended not to know who it belonged to.”
His eyes narrowed. “What of it. It’s none of your business anyway, you old busybody.”
I resisted the urge to smack the brat. “I’m certain it’s something Detective Costa would be interested in hearing about. Where I found it. When I found it”
“So tell him. What do I care? You can’t prove anything. Why would I kill Natasha anyway? She was my ticket out of this dump.”
Bingo!
“Because you didn’t mean to kill Natasha.”
He turned sheet white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But some of the belligerence was gone. In its place was a panicked kid who was in way over his head.
“Oh, I think you do,” I said, going in for the kill. “You see, that’s what stumped me. Why you would kill Natasha. Andrea, I get, but Natasha? Didn’t make sense. At least, not until I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” Some of the cockiness was back.
“That you never meant to kill Natasha. Natasha was a mistake. You were supposed to meet Andrea, but she was late, and Natasha showed up first. In the dark, away from the lights of the resort, you couldn’t tell the difference. Same color hair. Same height and build. The only difference was their ages, and with Natasha’s back turned...” I shrugged. “Woopsie.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed. His face was a contorted mask of anger.
“Don’t I? Because I’m guessing that Andrea did eventually show up, and she saw what you did.” I held up the bracelet again so that it sparkled in the sunlight. “Andrea saw you kill Natasha, but she didn’t get it. She didn’t realize you meant to kill her. What did she do, Kyle?
