Below the Surface (15 page)

Lucinda seemed happy to have been rescued from sweeping the back room downstairs and from her father's presence. After Bree showered and washed her hair, they sat at the table in the apartment eating shrimp salad and the brownies one of the church people had dropped off. Bree was too uptight to feel hungry, but Lucinda had a good appetite. She was a pretty girl with lively brown eyes, just on the verge of becoming plump, but that gave her a voluptuous figure. No wonder Manny was trying to keep an eye on her. She chattered on about things, then something she said brought Bree back from her agonizing with a jolt.

“Swear you won't tell my dad something, Bree?”

“If it's something bad or dangerous, you really shouldn't put me in a position like that. Manny's an employee but also a friend.”

Lucinda's sleek eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, but won't he be a partner now?”

“Yes, when everything is settled. I didn't realize you knew all that.”

“A bunch of stuff I overhear—like what that guy who brought your fins back said about you. But yeah, Dad told our whole family all that about the partnership a long time ago. It's really a good thing, too, 'cause we can
so
use the money. Is it okay if I just ask you a general question then, not tell you a secret?”

Bree knew the entire Salazar family. Lucinda was the only one who really sounded Anglo and that bothered Manny. In his opinion, his daughter was too much an American teen and Bree didn't want to interfere with that, not considering how strict Manny was with his family.

“All right, Lucinda, shoot,” Bree said, deciding not to quiz the girl about what else Manny might have said about becoming a partner.

“First of all, you can call me Cindi if you want—with an
i
at the end. I like to dot both
i
's with little hearts or happy faces, know what I mean?”

“Sure. But in front of your dad, I might stick to Lucinda.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, rolling her dark eyes. “I mean, it's
so
good to talk to a straight-up adult who understands me. So, let's just say a friend—a Latina—falls for an Anglo guy—I mean, about as American as he could be. This guy is
da bomb—
blond, great body, tall, on the basketball team. A real hottie. Let's say his parents are not real happy either, 'cause they think Hispanics are all a bunch of illegal immigrants—and Catholic, 'stead of Baptist, which is true. Anyway, I'm asking you for her, 'cause I know you dated Sam's son in high school and Sam didn't want you to.”

“No, that's not quite it,” Bree said, shoving her plate away and leaning back wearily in her chair to rub her eyes. “Sam Travers was all for me dating his son, even marrying him, but I broke it off when we were in college. Ted got really upset and enlisted in the marines and was killed in Iraq. Sam Travers blames me for the fact Ted was there—and got killed.”

“Man, that bites,” Lucinda whispered, frowning and shaking her head. “You don't blame yourself, do you?”

“Ted Travers made his own choices, but I feel like I've got a big target on my back when I'm around Sam. Listen to me, Lucinda—Cindi,” she said, sitting forward and taking the girl's hand across the table. “My sister dated someone in high school for a long time, too, but when he broke up with her, she just went on with her life. No one blamed anyone, ran away from home or did anything crazy. So trust me on this and just tell your friend not to think her relationship with this boy has to be the end of the world. If it works, it will have to take time, patience and understanding. If it doesn't work out, life goes on and maybe there's someone, Anglo or Latino, even better for her a little ways down the road of life.”

“So you mean your sister—she got over the guy she dated in high school?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“And found someone else to love. She must have been so hurt by the guy breaking it off—even if she didn't show it.”

Bree frowned. Since Josh, Daria had dated several men and had been the one to break it off with every one of them. Was she afraid of commitment, or did she think she'd better break things off before they dumped her? Could that have been the fallout of her loving, then losing, Josh? And why hadn't Bree thought of this when Daria was alive?

“I know,” Bree went on, her voice shaky, “it's hard to take advice from older people, especially parents, and especially when they get all upset and yell, but that's only because they care about you so much. Cindi, please try to treasure the time you have with your parents and your sister, because you won't have your family forever. And don't be in too much of a hurry to give your heart—or your body—away. Sometimes, in a way, you might just not get either back.”

Bree jumped up and took their dishes to the kitchen before the girl could see she was going to cry. Time with parents didn't last forever, let alone with a sister. Had Daria ever gotten over Josh Austin? Bree thought she had…she was
sure
she had. But now she wasn't sure of anything, including the fact that she had known her identical twin sister, the person closest to her in the whole world, at all.

Cole and Manny looked around the property of the Gator Watering Hole before going in. The sun had come out after all the rain, and they felt as if they were in a steam bath.

They saw where Bree and her attacker had fallen through the railing of the bridge. They also saw a couple of gators sunning themselves near another part of the ditch, so they decided to fish around for the wrench later—a lot later. There was no way it was going to have prints, and no promise that the police would even try to ID them, if there were.

Shaking his head, Cole muttered, “She almost drowns, swims with sharks around her during the storm, gets hit by lightning, then barely missed the gators.”

“How many lives they say a cat got?” Manny asked as they headed around the bar toward the front door.

“Nine, so I'd like to think she's got five to go.”

Manny just grunted.

They ambled in and sat sideways at the bar so they could scan the entire front room, which was a lot busier than when Bree had been there earlier. From Bree's description, Cole could tell the bartender was the same guy. He could tell the guy didn't especially like Manny here, as if one Mexican would begin an onslaught of them here in redneck heaven. Just to get his attention, Cole ordered in Spanish. “
Dos cervezas aqui
—Mountain Brewed.”

The man raised one shaggy eyebrow. “Don't sell many of those 'round here, but get in a case now and then for a special customer.”

“That right? Maybe a friend of mine. Dark-haired, works out all the time?”

“Could be,” the guy said, nervous now. “Never comes in, sends a friend.” He grabbed a bottle opener and bent the first metal cap.

Cole considered playing dumb about the fact Bree had been here, but that probably wouldn't work. He decided to try a plain, old man-to-man approach and hoped he didn't have to get rough, even if he was ready to. He figured, one wrong move here and they'd be taking on almost every man in the bar.

“We're friends of the woman who was in here earlier today,” he said, keeping his voice low. “the one you made a shandy for and sold the two Mountain brewskis.”

“What's the deal with the guy you're all looking for?” he asked. “Swear to God, don't know his name or why a class act like her took to meeting him here—yeah, well, I guess I do,” he added with a snicker.

“Did Bess get a good look at him?”

He seemed startled Cole knew the woman's name. “What's the prob, I asked,” the guy demanded, still not raising his voice either. “He leave her and she wants him back? Or what?”

“Yeah,” Cole said. “Or what. Can I talk to Bess just for a sec?”

“She's pretty busy, fryin' fish.”

“You see, we've got other fish to fry, too. If I can just talk to her, I won't feel I need to make a police report that the woman you're referring to was attacked by a guy with a wrench when she walked out of here in the rain today. Her attacker might just fit the description of the man I'm trying to trace, but I can just let the police take over and come out here to snoop around, check your liquor license, question your customers, and—”

“Lay off, I hear you. Come on out in back. And we don't need no health inspector here lookin' at the kitchen neither, if you was going to bring that up next.”

Bess's description of the mystery man was the same general, nondescript one the bartender and Bree had given. “But there is one thing I thought was kinda funny,” she added, after the bartender had gone back out and Cole and Manny were about to leave.

“What's that? Anything might help.”

“More 'n once, I think she met a different guy. Like maybe she was really getting around, meeting clients here or something. You know—johns. If you're involved with her, I'd try asking her about it.”

Cole smacked his hand down so hard on the counter that her pile of knives jumped and clattered. She grabbed one and held it in front of her.

“I didn't mean nothin' by it, just telling the truth,” she muttered. “If that don't do no good, just get on outta here 'fore I call Jerry.”

Manny went way up in Cole's estimation when he automatically covered his back by facing the door, in case she did call Jerry in. Cole clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth.

“Can you describe anyone else she met?” he asked, trying to keep calm.

“Listen, mister, it's pitch-black out there at night. I'm standing here doing dishes or fixin' food. I just glance out, that's all. It wasn't the same guy all the time. There were at least two different ones, one taller and thinner than the other, that's all.”

Cole raked his hand through his hair. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate your honesty,” he told her as they went back out through the bar.

But he was considering lying to Bree.

After the rain stopped, Lucinda wanted to go sit on the lanai to watch what was happening at the marina, but Bree felt afraid. Until Cole learned something about her attacker, she was hesitant to even sit outside.

Such a feeling infuriated her. She was not going to become a victim or prisoner. Sure, she'd be more careful now, but whether or not her attacker's purpose was to scare her into silence or shut her up for good, she wasn't going to cooperate. The best defense was surely a good offense.

“Why don't you pour us both a glass of OJ from the fridge, and I'll be right back,” Bree suggested. “But the furniture on the veranda will be soaked, so we'd better just open the doors to the patio and sit in here for now. The doors are locked, but I'd appreciate it if you unlock them so we can get the breeze and see out better.”

As Lucinda headed for the kitchen, Bree went to the bathroom, popped into her bedroom to brush her still-damp hair, then hesitated in the hall to stare at the closed door to Daria's room. Manny had said he'd heard Sam had a sort of shrine to Ted, no doubt with cherished mementos and photos. Bree didn't want to become obsessed like that, nor would Daria want her to.

Still, after the funeral, she'd go through her sister's things again. She'd give some away to the church for their collection for migrant workers, keep precious things, of course, and offer some to Amelia. When Bree had searched the room so thoroughly yesterday, she'd noticed a few new clothing items of Daria's she hadn't even worn yet. Maybe she would keep a few things for herself. Wearing them would make her feel closer to Daria. How often they'd shared clothes over the years.

Something compelled her to open Daria's door and glance in. She gasped, clamping both hands over her mouth so hard she felt her cut against her teeth.

True, Daria had left the room in disarray, and Bree had moved things around, but it was even more of a mess. No one had been here when she wasn't, so what had happened?

The pillow on the bed was out of its case. Other subtle changes caught her wide stare, a picture they had taken in Greece aslant on the wall, a sock hanging out of a drawer Bree had carefully closed. And two pairs of shoes, which had been under the bed skirt now peeked out.

Trembling, she glanced behind the door, then looked under the bed and into the closet, which looked rearranged. Bree opened the bureau drawers she'd gone through. She rifled through the top one, as she was certain someone else must have done.

The Gator Watering Hole coaster was gone.

She almost called Cole on his cell, but she remembered that she'd given Amelia a key to the apartment. It had been almost as if Bree had presented her with the Holy Grail, she'd been so pleased. Maybe Amelia had wanted some remembrance of Daria and had just come over, though she didn't believe that was likely. At least she would have left a note. Of course, Manny knew where the extra apartment key was downstairs in Bree's desk. He'd been here all morning, while she was gone and Lucinda was sweeping the back room.

Shaken, she rejoined Lucinda, who had two glasses of juice waiting on the coffee table next to the orange orchid Cole had given her in the hospital. As Bree had asked, Lucinda had the veranda doors open to the warm breeze off the bay.