Veronica Mars (12 page)

“Undeclared,” he mumbled. “Maybe econ.”

“Oh, I’m in the history department.” She stared around the little group, her hand still on the first guy’s arm. “This is so
cray
. I’ve never seen a house this big in my life. Whose party is this anyway?”

They all shook their heads.

“Guy down at the boardwalk invited me,” said Trang. “After I gave him some E.”

“Yeah, I got the nod after the rap battle,” said a skinny boy with plastic-framed glasses and a yachting cap. “Some kid with dreadlocks said I should come, that he liked my rhymes.”

“So none of you know the host?” Veronica stared around the circle. “You just heard about it?”

“Yup,” said the guy in the muumuu. “It’s just, like, whoever throws the party sends a dude around looking for cool people. And if you’re cool enough to be noticed, you get in.”

“So awesome!” Veronica chirped. “But oh my gosh, you guys, did you hear about the girl who went missing last week? Someone in the pool room just told me she disappeared from
this
house. Isn’t that scary?”

“Someone went missing?” The guy in the yachting cap looked startled. “I didn’t hear that.”

“Yeah, dude, her picture’s on that billboard over by the Cabo Cantina? She’s dead sexy,” said the guy in the muumuu.

“She was at this party last Monday, and no one saw her after that,” Veronica chimed in. “None of you guys were here that night, were you?” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “So scary!”

“Shit, no. Last Monday I was popping Adderall and studying statistics all night.” He snorted. “Our spring break didn’t start till Monday.”

The feedback of a microphone interrupted their conversation. They all looked up to see a crowd gathered around a small dais on the lower deck, just to the left of the amoeba-shaped pool. A short, portly guy in a fedora and Hawaiian shirt stood on the dais. For a moment Veronica couldn’t make out what he was saying over the crowd’s catcalling. He held up his arms in a placating gesture, and the crowd noise died down.

“All right all right all right!” he shouted, pacing the length of the riser. “Let me hear you make some
noise
!”

Another cheer went up from the crowd. The guy grinned, pumping his fist in the air. “Spring break!”

“Spring break!” The call went up again, echoing up and down the terrace. “Spring break!”

“All right, we got a special treat for you all tonight. We’ve got five lovely ladies who are just dying to show you the tan lines they’ve gotten this week. And folks, you
know
how small some of these suits are.” A round of hoots sounded from the crowd. “But first, let me introduce the judge. Here he is, your host tonight, Rico! Everyone give him a round of applause. Come on, now!”

The crowd screamed. Veronica stared. The man who’d just stepped on the dais was sharply handsome, with deep
olive skin, dark hair, and a line of stubble along his jaw. He wore a pair of Bermuda shorts, and a lei draped across his sculpted chest.

It was the mystery guy from Hayley’s pictures—the guy she’d been hanging all over the night she’d disappeared.

Veronica gripped the balustrade, staring at Rico. He grinned and waved at the crowd, his face lit up by the flickering tiki torches at each end of the stage.

Host of the party?
He was young, college aged. Veronica had known plenty of superrich teenagers, so it wasn’t a stretch that Rico was rolling deep enough to rent the place. But according to Mac’s research, no one was renting. And there was no way this was an illicit squat—security was too tight, and apparently there were parties every night. Someone would have noticed by now. Did he
own
the rental company? Did his parents?

Up on the stage, Rico fanned ten crisp bills out with a snapping motion. He took the microphone from the emcee, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Just to show how dedicated we are to finding the best tan in Neptune, we’ve got a thousand bucks for our winner tonight. How do you like that?”

The crowd roared its approval. Rico gave the microphone back to the guy in the fedora and sat back in his chair like a spoiled prince on a throne.

The emcee paced back to center stage. “And now, if y’all are ready for it, we’re gonna start the show. First up is
Aurora, from Tucson, Arizona. Aurora, why don’t you show these people what you’ve got?”

An auburn-haired girl in a leopard-print bikini leapt lightly up on the dais and shouted a hello into the mic. Some burlesque-style music started up over invisible speakers, and she gyrated on stage, spinning in a slow circle. When her back was to the crowd, she shook her hips, looked over her shoulder, and suggestively pulled the waistband of her suit down, flashing her tanned backside at the audience. Then she untied her halter and spun back around, making the straps dance against her breasts. Tantalizingly, she lowered the triangles of her bikini top, revealing a pale patch of skin underneath. Rico whistled appreciatively and the crowd went wild.

“Take it off!”

“More!”

“Flash!”

“My cousin thinks he’s a ladies’ man.”

The voice was deep and soft, close to Veronica’s ear. She gave a little start and looked up into dark brown eyes, flecked through with greenish gold. The man was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, with dark, curly hair and broad, chiseled cheekbones. Unlike the other guys, dressed in loud floral shirts and flip-flops, he wore a perfectly tailored gray suit, no tie, and black loafers. Around his neck was a single lei made of purple and white orchids.

“Your cousin?” She smiled, cocking her head a little. From the suit, the smirk, the casual contempt for Rico’s antics, she knew the drunken debutante voice wouldn’t work with this guy.

“Rico.” He nodded down toward the stage, where Rico
was on his feet now and dancing with the tan-line contestant. “Like a kid in a candy store.”

“You don’t approve?” she asked. She angled her body slightly toward him. Her heart beat fast, but she kept her movements composed.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all. I love a good party as much as anyone. But Rico likes to play games, to make it a sport.”

“And what do you like?”

“I just like to get what I want.”

The way his eyes moved over her left no mystery as to what that was.

“I’m Eduardo,” he said.

“I’m Amber.” She glanced around the terrace, gesturing. “Is this your place? It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“What’s not to love?” She lifted her cup, then pretended to take a sip. “So what do you do, Eduardo? Besides throw amazing parties?”

“I’m a student myself. I’m doing my MBA at Hearst.”

“Your MBA?” She laughed. “What do you need an MBA for? You already have everything an MBA could want.”

He laughed too. “This? This is all inherited. I have to be able to stand on my own feet, to do my part. Otherwise it will all be wasted.”

“That’s … that’s an interesting outlook.” She frowned slightly. Not one she would have expected from someone who threw a high-end carnival every night of spring break.

“Family is important. This is how I honor mine.”

Below, a fresh contestant was entertaining the audience with the stark white lines under her string bikini.

“What’s your family’s business?”

“Real estate, mostly. Some investments and the like.” He waved his hand as if this was all too dull to speak of. “Tell me, Amber, would you be interested in walking down the beach with me? It’s lovely this time of night—and we can speak a little more privately there than we can here.” He drew closer to her. She could smell notes of sandalwood on his skin, as clean and expensive as everything else he wore.

Veronica smiled, calculating. Eduardo struck her as the type who might try even harder to get what he wanted if there was an obstacle in his way. “I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that.”

Eduardo looked around as if expecting to see this alleged boyfriend. “Oh, is he here with you? I didn’t notice.”

“He’s inside, dancing,” she said. “I came out to get some air.”

Eduardo leaned closer, his breath warm on her neck. “You know, it’s spring break. You’re supposed to break the rules on spring break. And in my opinion, any man who’d pick a sweaty dance floor over your company probably doesn’t deserve your attention.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And it’s
Rico
who thinks he’s a ladies’ man?”

He threw back his head and laughed. Below, on the dais, the women were lining up for the finale, posing like beauty pageant contestants. One suddenly whipped her halter off and shimmied, to the raucous approval of the audience.

From the depths of her bag, Veronica heard her phone chime.

“I’m so sorry, I have to check this,” she said, rummaging in her purse.

“Of course,” he murmured. She turned her back and took a few steps away, opening the message.

It was from Mac.

For a moment the shrieks and giggles around her seemed to mute, the colors to fade. She stared down at the phone.

Rico and Eduardo weren’t just college playboys. They were cartel royalty.

“Amber? Is everything okay?”

All at once the world came rushing back. She looked up to see Eduardo, who’d moved in next to her arm. His eyes flitted down to her phone. She locked it and shoved it back into her bag.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Eduardo, I have to run. Something’s come up.”

He leveled his dark hazel eyes on her face. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope everything’s okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him, her pulse throbbing in her temples.
Cocaine conspiracy. Human trafficking. Extortion. Kidnapping. Murder
. The words streaked through her mind. “Thank you for the party, Eduardo. It’s been really fun.”

She felt his hands close on hers again. His fingers were cool and slightly moist. He lifted her hand to his lips.

“I hope we meet again,” he murmured.

Down below, Rico Gutiérrez Ortega danced with the girls on the stage. She gently retracted her hand from Eduardo’s,
then turned and half stumbled back through the double doors.

Wallace. She had to find Wallace. She called him, hands shaking, as she pressed her way through the crowd surrounding the snack-strewn kitchen island. The phone rang a few times and then went to voice mail. The party was probably loud enough that he couldn’t hear it.

Where are you?
she texted. She didn’t wait for him to reply but started down the hallway in search of him. The crowd had gotten denser, more frenzied over the course of the night, and at five foot two she was at a disadvantage for seeing through it. She stood on her tiptoes, straining to see.

She passed a bathroom where a girl was crying in huge, racking sobs. In the billiard room three hulking guys were wrestling on the floor—she couldn’t quite tell if it was in fun or not. There was no sign of Wallace. Her phone stayed maddeningly blank. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, where the hallway was slightly less crowded. Through an open bedroom door she saw a mass of writhing limbs on a king-size bed. In another, three kids sat around a lava lamp, jaws slack, while a fourth rocked herself on the bed.

Suddenly she felt a hand close around her wrist. She gave a little shriek and turned on her heel, her heart in her throat.

Wallace had come up right behind her. He jumped back just as she did, eyes wide.

“Breathe, woman!” He laughed, but he looked shaky. “It’s just me.”

People up and down the hall were looking at them. Most of them were partiers, but she caught sight of a tall, slender man in a Hawaiian shirt with a distinct lump beneath the armpit. Another, burlier and similarly armed, sat under a bay window,
pretending to text on his phone. She caught his mouth tighten almost imperceptibly as he glanced at them.

“So much for a low profile,” she muttered. She grabbed Wallace’s arm. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

They wove their way through the crowd and to the door. It was just after midnight, and the party had reached critical mass. The acrid smell of spilled beer and sweat mingled throughout the house.

She gulped the cool night air as they stepped out onto the lawn. As soon as they were a few feet from the house, Wallace spoke in a low voice. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you in the car.” She glanced into the bushes around the walk. “I’ll drop you off before I head to Mac’s. I think I’m working late tonight.”

“I’ll go with you.” He looked over his shoulder. The house thrummed with light and noise behind them. “Veronica, those guards were armed. I saw one adjusting his piece. Whatever’s going on in that house, it’s serious … isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to expect her to. They hurried the rest of the way across the lawn in silence.

“So, the guy was
right there
when you got my text?” Mac stared at Veronica in horror over the edge of her laptop.

It was an hour after they’d left the party, and Veronica and Wallace sat on the sofa in Mac’s loft, describing what they’d seen.

Veronica nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think he saw anything, but still.” She sighed, taking a sip from her beer bottle and resting her head back against the couch.

Mac’s apartment—rented in the salad days when she’d worked for Kane Software—was located in a sleek building just a few blocks away from Neptune’s single art-house movie theater. It was sparely decorated: a dark red couch, covered in jacquard pillows, took up one wall, and a plasma-screen TV was mounted on the exposed brick opposite. Where most people would have put a dinner table, Mac had a high-tech ergonomic desk covered with monitors and computer equipment that changed height at the touch of a button. A half-dissected motherboard sat on the kitchen counter, surrounded by tools and chips.

Wallace frowned. “So these guys are, what, dealers?”

Veronica shook her head. “I don’t think so. They’re not soldiers—they’re higher up.”

“Way higher up.” Mac sat in an overstuffed armchair, still wearing the flannel pajama bottoms and gray T-shirt in which she’d answered the door. Her face was pale and clean scrubbed but lit by an almost feverish glow. Mac was nothing if not an information junkie, and she’d spent her whole night digging further and further into the Gutiérrez family dynasty.
This
was what she’d been hired to do—not to man the phones or even to do the business’s IT, but to dig. And no one was as good at it as she was.