Bye Bye Bones (A CASSIDY CLARK NOVEL Book 1) (19 page)

“You yourself said that you took your jar home to clean it.”

“Preposterous. I want my attorney.”

“Your right. We’ll schedule your arraignment and the judge will likely give you bail.”

“Okay. Let’s do it,” Michael yelled.

“Not tonight. We’ll get you in the judge’s chambers tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re keeping me in this rat hole overnight?”

“Who knows? It might make for a good story for you to run with, cramming the press right down my throat.”

First thing in the morning the D.A. dropped the charges before they even began. Michael Scores was free.

They drove in silence almost three hours before they reached the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. One hour to go.

Jessica asked, “Do you think Sandra knows where we are?”

“Let’s make a deal. Since I don’t know what the hell her name is these days, she’s just my ex.”

“Okay. Do you think
your ex
knows where we are?”

“No way. You made the arrangements for the hotel on your computer at the station, right?”

Jessica felt a twinge go down her back. “Yes.”

“That woman is a lot of things, but she’s no computer hacker. Relax.”

After checking in to the Las Palomas Resort, Jaxon immediately sought out a cruise. A dinner cruise for two.

They walked down the shoreline, hand in hand. Jessica kicked off her orange espadrilles in favor of her toes sinking in to the foamy laps of ocean water across the sand.

As they neared their charter a Mexican man came running toward them.

“I’m sorry, Se̴͠nor. I know not how to call you. The boat we have. There’s been a fire. I can give you a bigger one, tomorrow night. I promise it be nice and safe.”

Jessica clutched Jaxon’s hand; her way of saying no way was she going out on any of this man’s boats.

They headed back to the resort, Jessica confirming what her gripping hand communicated to Jaxon.

“Let’s just have a nice dinner right here at La Maria’s Bistro. Lobsters and shrimp are in season. Tomorrow night we’ll look at the other boat, and check out the captain, and we’ll decide.”

Jessica acquiesced with a shrug of her shoulders, and then enjoyed one of the finest lobster tails she’d ever devoured. The shrimp were a bonus, and they’d brought down their ice chest so that they could load it up on the return home.

Returning to the beach grounds of the resort, with a full moon lighting their way, they frolicked and kissed and laughed away their stresses, all with the magical rote sounds of the ocean in the background.

They returned to their suite, where rocket-sex would be a given.

The flame of desire was extinguished when they saw the fire extinguisher splayed out on the master bed.

The note read: Bad boat don’t float.

“What is it, Jaxon?” Jessica asked.

Unless someone is fluent in English, Mexicans don’t use contractions. They aren’t a part of the Spanish language.

“We’ll get right back on it, Jaxon. I have a new shadow.”

“Shadow?”

“Surveillance. He’s good. But we can’t go back and trace Vickery’s steps. You told us we were off duty.”

“It had to be her. No one else. I don’t know how she found out where we were, but it was her.”

“Is there any paper trail? Online hotel reservations?”

“Jessica made them from her office computer. A quick reservation at a resort we’ve frequented.”

His voice fell flat and sharp, like large glass shards on the bottom of a pool.

“What aren’t you telling me, Jaxon?” I asked.

“It’s just that we finally thought this evil was behind us. That we could be a couple again.”

He wanted to take a week off. Maybe London for some more suits. Maybe Punta Cana – the hot new Dominican Republic resort. Maybe not. His instincts told him to suck it up and put on his happy face in public. An odd instinct. He couldn’t leave now because the bitch had gone on vacation, leaving the station to hire on another bimbo anchor and leaving him stuck.

On the air: Michael Scores said, “While our friend, Jessica Silva, takes some time off, you are stuck with me and the glamorous Tracy McClendon, whom we’re happy to announce is now part of our station.”

“I’ll be with you for our morning and noon news starting in three weeks, but the remainder of this week Michael is stuck with me,” Tracy said with a broad grin and gleaming white teeth.

“I’m sorry I pulled your pay, Cassidy. The budget and all.”

“And the lack of my results.”

“It’s a tricky case, or cases, but it is what it is.”

“Fine,” I said with defiance.

“That didn’t sound like a
fine
fine.”

“I don’t need your money. I like it, but I don’t need it. I’m on to something, and maybe when I do produce the goods your budget people can buy me a cake. Maybe a martini. Maybe Alaskan King crab legs.”

“Any hint as to what you are on to?”

“I’m off the payroll, so no.”

Feeling vainglorious, I marched out of his office.

CARSON GREER’S CALL went to my voicemail.

“Of note, Michael Scores is a customer of
Cosas Buenas
Spa and Salon.”

“Damn, girlfriend. You look fabulous. And that means, what’s up?” Tracy asked.

“Never mind. I’m just experimenting with my inner woman. Ever since I went to the spa on business. I didn’t turn up much, but maybe me.”

“I didn’t see this girl when I stayed with you. Keep on experimenting and keep on, girl.”

“My turn. You didn’t tell me you were jumping stations,” I said. I had more urgent things to discuss with her, like Michael Scores being arrested for the poisoning of his co-anchor, and like how he played with a married woman. I was mustering up my courage to tell her.

“They’ve been wooing me for some time for a place on their daytime news. They needed a quick sub for Jessica, and upped the offer. As soon as she’s back, I’ll have a few weeks off, then become an early-to-bed girl for the early morning and noon news.”

“That might be sooner than you think. Jessica and Jaxon have already returned from their trip.”

She shrugged. “Oh well, working right next to Michael is just plain weird.”

“You’re still seeing him?”

“The charges were dropped, Cass. But we do have an agreement that we can still see other people.”

“Like you and your Kermit the Frog?”

“It’s not like I have someone else, but it’s a clear option. And it worked out well for me.”

“I see your shit-eating grin. What’s up?”

“I think it might be the hot button. He’s asked me to fly to London with him. One whirlwind weekend.”

“London, for a weekend?”

“He knows I’ll be scheduled out once I take on these morning shows. And, those famed bespoke Saville Row suits beckon him. Timing is everything.”

“Wow. That’s quite an invitation.”

“Yeah, but he’s cheap. He’ll pay out for his suits but probably buy me a knock-off Burberry. A glass of orange juice is so expensive there I won’t be surprised if he tells me to bring Tang.”

“Look, there are a couple of things I need to tell you.”

Tracy’s phone rang.

After a quick rise from the table and a Hollywood kiss she said, “It’ll have to wait, Cass.”

She slapped down money and said she had to run on an urgent assignment. Another near drowning.

She hollered back, “I’ll call you when I get back from London.”

Just when I had the courage to say something, snitching on Scores seemed like a bad idea. She had just told me that they had an ‘arrangement’ to date other people. Her decision. He was a free man. I knew Manning had a weak case against the man. I was surprised the D.A. took so long to nip the arrest in the bud. They had a clean apothecary jar Scores had yet to return to the station. He told Manning he wasn’t that anal and didn’t drink that crap every day. There was a vague connection at the cabin on a completely different crime. The salon had
scores
of clients, but it was Michael Scores that interested me. What about Scores’ cell phone records that made it clear that Scores knew Karl Marks? Of course, it was Schlep that provided that evidence.

“Manning met with me. No more budget for us to work these missing people cases. I can handle your pay, but I need to know you are still onboard.”

“I’m sorry. I want to be a team player but I can’t work without pay,” Carson said, shaking her head while trying to immediately hold back tears.

“I’m not asking you to. I have a squiggly fat piggy bank account I’ve already cracked open, and I don’t mind investing it in us. I am asking that we show Chief our greatness that we can solve this on our own, before any prorogue becomes a permanently closed door.”

While Carson leaned back on the booth, Schlep sat forward. “You’re already banking the Marks case,” he said, “and our other clients can’t possibly keep you out of the red.”

“That’s my business. I have enough to worry about, but money isn’t one of them.”

“I’m sorry I panicked,” Carson said.

“You have a full plate. Lots of responsibilities. Don’t think twice.”

“Thanks for understanding my kneejerk reaction. We’ll get the sick bastard out there taking women. You’re forgetting our new algorithm program. We’re not about to abandon ship.”

I caught my ring in my hair as I tried to sweep it away from my mouth, preparatory to eating my one bite of sushi. That god-awful taste of the city’s best sushi would prove my team spirit to Schlep.”

Schlep laughed at the grimace surely blazing across my face. “Just swallow the damn thing.”

“I want to degust it,” I retorted while grabbing my glass of water.

After following the water with a couple swigs of the
Hitachino
ale, I said, “I won’t deny this is a very frustrating case. Crime scenes will speak to me. I’ve had crime scenes with no bodies, and bodies with no crime scenes, but here we have neither. No expended shell casings. No collectible DNA. Nothing.

“Tell me what your algorithms are indicating.”

Carson’s nod deferred to Schlep. He finished off more than his share of the yellowtail as I slipped in an order of tempura. Nothing but friend and greasy for me.

“Tabling the FBI profile indicating erotomanic males, most of the findings are common sense. The victims have been moved to another location. Did they all go freely? And, if not, would someone need to first disable the vics, then physically get them into a vehicle for transport? And pull off a quick getaway? That may indicate that our suspect is actually a team.

“We know the suspect or suspects are strong. Nonetheless, not one of our victims weighs more than one-hundred-sixteen pounds. That would not rule out a physically powerful female.”

“A couple?” I asked.

“Maybe. But we shouldn’t rule out one strong woman,” Carson said.

“Great. A team. A strong person. Now we include women. I guess we can only scratch off the elderly, the impaired, and young children.”

“Think about it, Cassidy,” Carson said.

I was. I was kicking myself for not once considering a female suspect.

“Punta Cana?” she had asked, knowing the resort made the fresh list of travel hotspots.

He told her it wasn’t exactly Punta Cana, but he had found a resort with all the same amenities plus a marina and a golf course in nearby Cabarete.

When the cab driver didn’t know how to find the resort, Tracy’s red flag went up. Upon finally arriving, a bellman came out to the vehicle to collect the luggage, via an imaginary sidewalk that would have been a mud wrestler’s field of dreams.

“So, the construction isn’t quite finished. I’m sure it’s fabulous inside,” Tracy said.

“Of course it is. I checked this place out on the web. We’ll be fine.”

The open air lobby encouraged both of them. Intricate tile work, a marvelous
coaba
mahogany check-in desk, and vivid local art. The room, well appointed in mahogany, brass, and white linens, boasted a commanding view of the ocean. Beautiful, but obvious that they were not on the leeward side of the island.

Tracy suggested they go to the beach. “That’s what one does on a beach, Michael,” she said.

“No can do. Not yet. You go on down and I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Thirty minutes? What do you have to do? I’ll go with you.”

“I need to take care of something. I’ll be as quick as I can and I’ll find you on the beach ready to soak up the oil I slather all over your gorgeous body.”

Michael pocketed his room key and left. Tracy slipped into her bikini, grabbed her beach bag, and headed to the water.

She saw three locals on the far side of the beach scurrying to secure their fishing boats. In so much of a hurry. Must be siesta time, Tracy decided.

There were no other guests. Not many lounge chairs for what was supposed to be a resort. Three
palapa
poles stood erected, and all of them without thatch roofing. There was no marina. Certainly no sign of a golf course to come. No tropical drinks served with colorful umbrella picks.