Grilled, Chilled and Killed Read online

  Lewis approached even closer. “Here let me help you.” They stood toe to toe, he towering over her. She looked up at him.

  “I don’t need your help. Anyway, I trust you. If you say you’re divorced, then you’re divorced. Why would you lie to me? Unless you thought you could take advantage of a little gal who’s been tossed and scrambled by a storm and is about to get naked in your bathroom.”

  “I’d never do that.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  He shook his head and closed the gap between them so that her forehead was inches from his chest.

  “Good, because I want to feel safe here.”

  Lewis took her chin in his hands and leaned down. His lips were only a silly millimeter away from hers. Her head told her to run away, back out into the storm, but her hormones were playing Mantovani, and the string section was drowning out the warnings. This was what she feared, that she wouldn’t be able to resist this irritating, sexy man.

  “Emily,” he said. He brought his lips closer to her.

  “Can I ask you something before we proceed?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “What kind of soap do you use?”

  His head snapped up. “Huh?”

  “If it’s that guy stuff, maybe you could call room service and see if they can rustle up something more generic and not so testosterone-laden, something that won’t exfoliate off several layers of my skin.”

  “What?”

  “Or isn’t the condo office open all night? If it isn’t I could just rinse off.”

  “I’ll check.” Lewis made a sound in his throat like a growling animal, backed out the door and slammed it behind him. It shook the building with a force not dissimilar to that of the storm.

  Like I’d believe him about the divorce, Emily thought. She picked up the papers he’d dropped on the table and carefully peeled off the cover sheet. Well, I’ll be damned, she said to herself.

  “I’m back with your soap. I had to wake the night manager.” He didn’t sound happy, and it was her fault. Ah well, perhaps she could remedy that. Or was he so angry with her that he wouldn’t cooperate?

  “I’m in the shower. Bring it in here.”

  Lewis groaned, but opened the door to a roomful of steam. He walked over to the tub and moved aside the curtain only enough to hand her the soap. She grabbed him and pulled him into the shower with her. Now this is what I call cooperation, she thought.

  “What the hell are you doing? You’re getting me all wet.”

  “You’re already all wet. Here, soap me up.” All he could see of her was her tanned back.

  “I can’t see a thing in here.”

  “Pity.” She laughed. He dropped the soap, and the two of them got down on their hands and knees searching the bottom of the tub for it.

  The sound of someone banging on the condo door cut short her giggles.

  “Who the hell is that?” he snarled.

  “Mom! Are you in there?”

  Emily and Lewis sat on the couch looking like teenagers caught necking in the car. Emily grasped a terry robe tight to her neck. As for Lewis, he had donned sweat pants and shirt. They clung to his still damp body.

  “What were you two doing?” Naomi sounded like a scolding parent.

  “Showering.” Emily’s voice was filled with contrition.

  “Obviously. There was so much steam in the bathroom and the rest of this condo it’s a wonder the paper isn’t peeling off the walls.”

  “Your mother was cold. I worried about hypothermia.” Lewis’s voice carried conviction and authority, but not with total success.

  “When did the cure for hypothermia become a shower for two?” Naomi’s lips twitched around the edges.

  “Body heat,” they both replied in unison.

  Naomi doubled up with laughter. “I really couldn’t care less what you were up to, but you both looked so guilty, I had to play along.”

  “Nothing happened.” Emily pulled the robe tighter to her neck.

  “Absolutely nothing. Unfortunately.” There was a note of regret in his voice.

  Emily shot him an indignant look, then turned her eyes to Naomi. “What are you doing here if not to check up on me? I thought you were staying with Daisy and Rodney?”

  “I am. They’re waiting for me in the car. I insisted we drop by to see how you two were doing. Rodney’s got a short wave radio, and we heard about a limb down on a car on the Beach Road. It sounded like your police cruiser, so we came looking. You must have walked all the way back here.”

  “We did,” said Lewis.

  “Actually I take back what I said before, Detective. You’re a married man, so you really should keep your hands off other women, don’t you think?” Naomi’s face took on that stern look again.

  Lewis moaned and rolled his eyes. “This again.”

  “Show her,” said Emily.

  Lewis pointed to the divorce papers on the table. Naomi got up and grabbed them, then read the first page.

  “Fine then, but let me caution both of you against getting into something on the rebound.”

  “If either one of you had read further, you would have noted that my ex-wife and I have been separated for several years. Tonight was the first night I’ve seen her in over five years. She’s been living with someone else.”

  “You could have told me, you know.” Emily’s eyes snapped in anger.

  “I never got the chance.”

  “Oh, but you took plenty of chances to flirt like crazy.”

  “Children, children,” said Naomi. “We’ll sort this out some other time. Right now, you’re coming back to the hotel to stay with the St. Simontons in their suite. They’ve got a spare bedroom.” Naomi looked around the condo. “One bedroom, I assume?”

  “I could take the couch,” offered Lewis.

  “Yeh, he could.”

  “Your choice, Mom, but what you need is a good night’s sleep, and I have a feeling you wouldn’t get it here, couch or no couch.”

  “Nice timing,” said Emily. She and Naomi were in the back seat of the Cadillac heading toward the Jekyll Island Hotel. “We had gotten beyond all the fighting.”

  “That’s because you were too busy soaping each other.”

  Daisy looked in the rear view mirror but said nothing. Rodney chuckled.

  “There’s the rebound thing I warned you about, and I was serious,” cautioned Naomi.

  “If he’s been separated for several years, there is no rebound.”

  “I meant you, Mom.”

  “Oh.” Emily sighed. “You’re right. I was just so thrilled when I read he was divorced. All the guys I run into at the club are married or older than dirt. I jumped at the first available man I guess.” That wasn’t quite true, Emily thought. He wasn’t only available. He was desirable. She sighed again and looked out the window. The sun was coming up, and the rain had stopped. “You’ve got to admit. He’s one hunk of a guy.”

  “Ánd not as weird as Donald. Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Donald’s his own person.”

  “Donald likes fish. And gators. And maybe you, Mom, but not much else.”

  “Uhmm. Looks like it’ll be a great day for the barbeque festival. You still going to it with Lewis?”

  “Wait a minute,” said Daisy. “I thought since you discovered Lewis is divorced, you were interested in him and he in you, but he’s dating your daughter?”

  By the time Naomi and Emily straightened out their hosts, they were pulling up to the hotel.

  The St. Simonton’s suite of rooms was spacious, two bedrooms, two baths and a small living room area.

  “This is nice,” said Emily, “but we can’t stay here indefinitely. Once Naomi and I grab naps, we’ll need to get back to the campground to see if there’s anything left of our tent. And your car, Naomi.”

  “The car’s fine. Rodney sent someone from the hotel to check on it. But you’re right.” Naomi turned to the St. Simontons. “We can’t put you out.”


  “Oh, pish,” said Daisy. “We keep these rooms year round for family and friends. They came in handy last night, but we’re back to our digs in Brunswick today. You’re not putting us out.”

  Emily tried to argue, but Daisy held up her hand and shook her head.

  By late morning, the clouds had all disappeared, and the sky was sunny and clear, the weather a bit cooler, but it was as if the storm never happened. The roads had been cleared, all signs of the night’s blow erased.

  “The authorities certainly take pride in this place. I didn’t expect the clean-up to be so fast.” Emily rode in the back of the St. Simonton’s Cadillac, windows open to the smell of newly laundered air.

  Naomi’s car sat in the parking lot of the campground, unharmed. She rushed over and, for a moment, Emily thought her daughter might put her arms around the grill and kiss it.

  The scene at their campsite was not so welcoming. They found the tent blown up into one of the large trees and had to call on Lewis who showed up shortly after they did to get it down for them.

  “I was certain you told me you were a tomboy as a kid,” He grimaced down at Emily as he climbed into the leafy branches. “You never climbed trees?”

  “You never tried doing a favor for a friend?” She said it in a warm tone of voice and then laughed aloud.

  “Favor? If I fall from here, you can pay back the favor by taking care of my hospital bills.” He grabbed the tent and pulled. It came free in three pieces.

  “It looks as if we won’t be doing anymore camping. We might as well go home. Damn. I wanted to at least get a rack of ribs.” Naomi tossed the tattered tent away in disgust.

  “You can do all of that. Rodney and I are going back to Brunswick to our house. You two can have our suite of rooms at the hotel.”

  “Or you could stay with me. Like I said before, I can sleep on the couch.” Lewis jumped down from the tree and landed inches from Emily. He looked down at her. “What do you think?”

  “I think we went through this earlier today. I’d have to chain you to the couch.”

  “I’d have to Velcro you to the bed.”

  The two of them looked at each other with a mixture of anger and laughter playing across their faces.

  Naomi interrupted the standoff. “I’m for the suite. You can go with Lewis and finish up what I interrupted last night.”

  Emily blushed. Lewis only made the situation worse by repeating his feeble excuse of showering together to get warm.

  Having run into Toby lying on the bicycle path midweek, his cousin Bill had offered to let Toby stay in his trailer.

  “Lot’s of room. I’m seeing a little gal from Backyard Barbeque, so lately I’ve been staying at her place. She and her brother have a huge fifth wheel, two bedrooms.”

  Relieved he’d have someplace to bunk for free, Toby agreed and moved in his small duffle of belongings. The little trailer rocked and rolled when the storm hit, but it remained upright, and Toby was grateful he’d run into his cousin when he did. Of course, Toby knew before their encounter that Bill was at the cook-off. He’d planned to get in touch with him. Their “chance” meeting was perfect. Bill’s hospitality played right into Toby’s hands.

  “What’re you doing here anyhow?” Bill was slapping together some pulled pork sandwiches for the two of them.

  “I had to get away from the Kissimmee River. It’s too damn depressing there.” Toby had kept his troubles with the law from his cousin who thought he’d taken an early retirement. “I got a letter of recommendation from some contacts who told me to take it to the Island Authority and they’d get me a temporary job. Just plain luck I ran into you here. I didn’t even know about the cook-off.”

  “We ought to stay in touch more.” Bill handed him the sandwich. “We’re family, you know.”

  Toby nodded and bit into the pork. Sauce oozed out of the side and ran down his chin onto his beard, joining the other stains there. Bill handed him a napkin.

  Toby was about to wipe the sauce on his sleeve, but, after a moment’s hesitation, he took the napkin. “Thanks.”

  A trailer all to himself and the best barbeque in the southeast. Toby thought he was one lucky guy.

  Toby’s luck ran out. The day of the storm, Toby had presented his letter to the Island Authority Office, expecting, given his background, they’d place him in some position of authority, perhaps a security supervisor for the festival. To his surprise, they handed him a tee-shirt with the word “Staff” printed on it and a broom and whisk on a handle. Toby kicked himself for not finding a way to take a look at what was in that letter. Someone must have ratted him out as a felon awaiting trial. All lies, of course.

  He worked his way through the festival grounds, sweeping up half-eaten food and napkins, paper plates and beverage cups. People were such slobs, thought Toby. Why couldn’t they put their trash in the receptacles provided? He wiped his runny nose on his tee-shirt sleeve.

  He was so resentful at the low level job he’d been given that he’d spent most of the day plotting revenge on the Island Authority, Lewis and the Florida authorities who put him in this position. Last night after he watched Mr. Smith depart and while the storm howled around the trailer, Toby drank.

  The day after the storm, as Toby was stepping out of the bathroom on the festival grounds, buttoning up his pants, he bumped into Lewis.

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Lewis was about the last person he wanted to see. “What the hell do you want?”

  Lewis dragged him back into the bathroom. “We don’t want to blow your cover. I hear you’ve been assigned the job of sanitation engineer.”

  Toby noticed the smile on Lewis face. “I suppose you think that’s funny.”

  “Given your personal hygiene and how you live, it is kind of amusing. I’ve seen your place on the Kissimmee, you know.”

  “It’s comfortable.” Toby resented the detective’s tone of voice. Toby lived alone and had the place fixed up the way he liked it. Maybe others thought it was a shack… Well, it was, thought Toby. But it was home.

  “You’re supposed to be doing an undercover job for us. I haven’t heard squat from you. This won’t earn you a day off your sentence if you don’t produce something.”

  “It takes time to get to know folks. You can’t just start asking them questions. They get suspicious.”

  “You don’t work but eight hours a day. Take your spare time and hang out with some of them. They’re pretty friendly folks.”

  “I gotta git working.”

  Lewis’ visit shook him up. Toby needed to stay on his good side, at least until something else materialized. He didn’t check into work until noon, but all the barbequers had been up since day break, repairing damage from the storm, then stoking up their smoke ovens and preparing the meat for the evening. No one would be at their trailers. Toby could take a good look around and, who knows, he might get lucky again.

  By the time he reported for work, Toby knew the insides of all the trailers intimately. There wasn’t a nook he hadn’t explored, but nothing of interest showed itself. Until he happened by a battered pick-up. Among the junk lying on the floor of the truck bed Toby spied a fire poker, the kind barbequers used to move their coals around. Toby climbed into the bed and, with his handkerchief picked up the poker to examine it. He spied some rusty substance on the end of it. Might be something, might be nothing, thought Toby, but he had to get word to Lewis. He flipped open the cell phone Lewis had given him. Chain of evidence. Toby couldn’t move the poker. Or could he?

  Chapter 9

  When Lewis presented himself at the door of the St. Simonton suite on Saturday night, he looked like a changed man. Emily opened the door and confronted a smiling Lewis, his eyes twinkling with good humor and perhaps a little mischief.

  She turned in the doorway and yelled at her daughter. “Wow. Hey, Naomi, it’s the proverbial cat who swallowed the canary.” Emily gestured for him to enter.

  She posed with her
hands on her hips, willing him to notice her. Her hair was pulled back in a mass of curls on top of her head and ringlets framed her face. She wore a saucy little sundress which she’d purchased at one of the shops in Brunswick. She had on make-up, and her nails were polished. Earrings dangled from her lobes and sparkled in the light from the chandelier in the room. She felt like queen of the prom. Perhaps if he’d been just a little more friendly, concerned or sensitive, she might have chosen her words differently.

  Instead, whatever he had on his mind that moved him from depression to top of the world, seemed to render him blind. Oh, she was happy he was happy. She didn’t expect him to put his arms around her and plant a passionate kiss on her lips, but she would have forgiven him if he had uttered one complimentary word about how she had fancied herself up for him. And just to answer the door. He wasn’t stepping out with her for barbeque. He was taking her daughter, yet Emily had devoted time to transform herself from an efficient little apron-clad bartender into a desirable, tempting, door-opening dish. Couldn’t he see this?

  His glance hardly took her in. He strode into the room with his old confidence and, Emily decided, his old arrogant attitude. What had she ever seen in this guy to make her drag him into the shower that night?

  Naomi entered from one of the bedrooms and stopped short.

  “Here you both are. Now I can tell you my news. You’ll never guess what happened?” He was about to share his victory with them, but Emily interrupted before he got another word out.

  “You found the murder weapon and have arrested the guy who killed Everett Pratt.”

  Emily and Naomi watched Lewis deflate like a New Year’s balloon on Jan 2.

  Just one compliment, thought Emily. One word and I’d have been nice to you and let you believe we didn’t know your news. But oh no, you’re so full of yourself, you couldn’t acknowledge someone else.

  Naomi shot her mother a dark look.

  Lewis sank into the couch. “You know?”

  “No, it was just a wild guess.” She willed him to get her sarcasm, or would he miss that too?