Killer Honeymoon (5 page)

The ocean was a steady crash of waves in the
distance while the fire crackled. Jane counted it a blessing that the guitar
player had stopped.

In the distance Taylor shuffled back and forth,
Jake kept one eye out for the ambulance, and Mason sat next to the fire, his
head in his hands.

The sound of sirens broke their silent vigil,
and once the ambulance got there, everything went fast. When the group had
given all of the information they could, both Mason and Taylor offered to
follow Coco to the hospital and contact her parents.

“We should follow,” Jane whispered, hoping only
Jake was paying attention.

He shook his head. “No. That would be weird.
Let’s not be weird yet.”

“But I’m worried about her.” Jane chewed her
lip. She didn’t trust Mason with Taylor or Coco. And something might be said.
Something related to their investigation.

“Give me a minute.” Jake took one of the
paramedics to the side and handed him the bottle Coco had been drinking from.
Then, Jane, Jake, and the guy with the guitar were left with the fire to
themselves.

The guitar player tapped his strings, beating
out a rhythm with no melody. Jane paced in front of the fire, aggravated that
driving to the hospital was weird but hanging out at the campfire wasn’t. They
were detectives, not on vacation…ah. Well, technically they were honeymooners.

Why were her cases always complicated?

“So who poisoned Coco?” Jane asked the guitar
player.

He strummed a little something before he
answered, “Who brought the beer?”

Jake cleared his throat. “We did.”

The guitar player shrugged.

“It didn’t have to be the beer.” Jane dug a
little channel in the sand next to where she sat. “But it probably was, since
it worked fast. Jake, did you see anyone go near the bottles?”

Jake thought for a moment. “I thought I was
keeping an eye on it pretty well, but they could have.” He paused, his eye on
the fire. “Not Taylor, though. She never got near it. It would have to have
been Mason. He handed Coco the bottle.”

Jane rolled her shoulders forward to stretch.
“Poor girl. I hope he doesn’t take her home.”

“I bet she gets to stay the night.” The guitar
player leaned on his instrument and stared into the low flames.

“Maybe so.” Jane wasn’t convinced. “Maybe Taylor
will take her home.”

“Taylor’s not going to Coco’s house.” The guitar
player spoke quietly.

“Why not?”

“Coco’s brother’s moved back.”

“Taylor’s not a fan?”

Guitar guy took a long, deep breath. “So they
say.”

Jake looked up from his phone. “What happened?”

“Prom night, last year. Nothing good came out of
it.”

“So…”

The guy with the guitar stood up. “So I guess we
kick sand on the fire and go home.” He hefted his guitar over his shoulder and
walked toward the fire.

Jake grabbed a shovel that lay nearby and
started to shift the sand onto the fire. “You lived here long?”

“Yup.” The guy had been about to walk away, but
paused. “You?”

“Just vacationing.” Jake stabbed the shovel into
the sand. “Got anything to carry water in? I’d like to soak this before we walk
away.”

The guy glanced over his shoulder. “Tide will
come up and put it out.”

“I like to be sure. It’s been a bad summer.” He
looked around as best he could, but the beach was dark.

Jane stamped her foot on the sand-covered
remains of the fire a few times. “I’m Jane.” She offered him her hand. “It does
look pretty out, I guess.”

“I’m Miller.” He scratched his neck. “See you.”

“Hold on a sec. Is there anything left in that
water bottle?” She gestured to a bottle near where they had been sitting.

Miller shrugged. “Don’t know. It wasn’t mine.”
He nodded at Jake. “See you.” He walked off in the other direction this time.

Jane picked up the bottle. It was mostly full,
so she drizzled it over the sand-covered fire. “I don’t think we made much
headway tonight.”

Jake took her hand. “I agree. Let’s cut our
losses with the beach-fire thing and try something new in the morning.”

Around ten the next morning they wandered into
the local library—called Warrenton, but in a nearby town. The little old
schoolhouse-shaped building seemed like the right place to chew the fat with
retired locals.

The building was broken into sections by tall
wooden bookshelves like a used bookstore. The dusty vanilla smell of the
library books combined with the musty but welcoming air of an old building made
Jane want to settle in with something by Doyle. Instead, she wandered to a
small table with four computers, where two gray-haired men sat reading news on
the Internet.

Jane pulled up a chair at an empty computer and
smiled. “Good morning.”

“With all the fires in Washington you think this
is a good morning?” A thin-nosed man with bushy eyebrows stared at her over his
half-rimmed glasses.

“She’s just being polite.” The other man was
round, his cheeks rosy and his hair thin on top.

Jane stared at the screen for a moment, then
chuckled. “I don’t suppose you all know the password to log on, do you?”

“Gotta use your library card. These are for
library patrons.”

“Ah. Don’t suppose a Multnomah County card works?”

“Nope.”

“Then where can a girl get the news around
here?” Jane leaned back in her chair.

“Don’t you kids ever read the paper?” the one
with glasses asked.

“Why should we? You’re not,” she said it with a
grin.

“She’s got a point there.” The rosy-cheeked man
laughed. “So what news do you want to know? I bet me and Paul could tell you.”

“I want to know why an ambulance drove past our
place onto the beach last night.”

“Oh, those kids were doing drugs again, I guess,”
Rosy Cheeks said.

So gossip wasn’t that fast among the library
set. “You guys have a bad problem with drugs in town?”

“Some years are worse than others.”

“How’s this year?”

“You aren’t trying to buy drugs, are you?” The
man with the glasses pinched his mouth shut. His eyebrows lowered over his pale
blue eyes.

“Nope, not us. But if it’s a bad year for drugs,
I guess we’d rather spend the rest of our vacation somewhere else.”

“Hmph.” The man with glasses turned back to his
computer.

“Paul probably wanted to sell you some. He’s a
retired chemistry teacher, you know. I bet he cooks up all sorts of stuff in
his garage.” Rosy Cheeks guffawed.

A librarian in flip-flops, with her hair in a
high ponytail, poked her head around the corner and held her finger to her
lips.

“She’s a poor sport, that one,” Rosy Cheeks said.
“Even if she is Paul’s granddaughter.”

“She’s good at her job,” Paul said.

“She dresses like Gidget.”

“Does she hang out with the beach bums who were
out last night?” Jane asked.

“Not her. She’s a good girl.”

“Don’t the good kids ever get to play on the
beach?”

“Well, I suppose they do,” Paul said. “But she
don’t go bumming around with those druggies. I know that much.”

“Oh, Grandpa!” The librarian laughed. “You all
be quiet. We’re about to start morning story hour.”

A couple of women with kids hanging tight to
their hands moved towards the little children’s nook.

“When’s that Hannah who used to run this place
gonna come back?” Rosy Cheeks asked.

“Don’t know.” Paul had his eyes glued to the
screen now.

“Where did the old librarian go?” Jane asked.

“She weren’t old. And she run off with a bunch
of kids, I’d say. A whole pack of ’em left a few weeks ago.”

“Hugh, you talk too much.” Paul pulled a pair of
big headphones over his head.

“Runaways?” Jane asked.

“Probably. Those weird kids from Colorado came
to town and then half the kids left.”

“What made them weird?” Jane chewed her lip.
Details about Cherry’s cousins would be good right about now. Any details at
all.

“They talked funny. And they didn’t seem like
normal kids. Looked like they knew how to work for a living.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Jane smiled, hoping to
keep him talking.

“No, I guess not. But I wouldn’t have wanted to
see my grandkids go off with them. They didn’t seem real trustworthy.”

“Who were they? Does anyone know?” Jane leaned
forward, her chin on her fist, and gave Hugh with the rosy cheeks her full
attention.

“Somebody’s cousins. Oh, who were they, Wendy,
do you know?”

“The guys who were cousins of Cherry and Skye?
The weird ones?” The beachy librarian joined the gossips at the computer table.

“Yeah, what was their deal?”

“They were farm kids, I guess. From Arizona.
What do you think they grow in Arizona? Cactus?” She rolled her eyes.
“Something about them gave me the heebie-jeebies, but Hannah seemed to think
they were okay.”

“What about the other one?” Jane asked.

Wendy tilted her head. “The other one?”

Jane bit her lip. No one had mentioned Ryder
yet.

“Let me think.” Wendy didn’t seem to notice
Jane’s slip. “There
was
another guy who came out. Real cute, but kinda
weird too. They all talked weird.”

“Do you think your boss ran away with those
guys?” Jane asked.

Wendy thought for a moment. “No. I guess not.
Grandpa said he saw her locking up the library a couple of days after they all
hit the road. She must have just needed a break or something. Anyway, she
didn’t know any of them really. They weren’t the kind to come hang out with us
in the library.”

“You’re wrong about one thing. I’m sure they
were from Colorado. That Daisy—Cherry’s mom—told me straight out. She said they
were in town from Colorado and might go on staying with them indefinitely.”

Wendy frowned. “Weird. The one time I met them
they said Arizona. But whatever. I don’t think Daisy would lie. And lord knows
boys will say anything if there are enough drinks and girls around.”

Jane laughed. “What about that body that was in
my shed. Think it’s related?”

“That was at your house?” Wendy asked. “What a
major bummer.” She glanced at the waiting kids one more time. “But I doubt it
was related. Why would it be?”

“I dunno. No one knows where all those people
went or why. Two mysteries at once. Seems like it could be related.”

“A bunch of teenagers slipped off for a road trip
in August. It doesn’t seem like it would have anything to do with murder. I’ve
got to go read stories now.” Her ponytail swung behind her as she left for
story hour.

“The optimism of youth,” Paul’s gravelly voice
muttered. “Listen, kid, I don’t know what your angle is, but I think you’re
right to be worried. You may even be smarter than you look.” He winked and went
back to his computer screen.

Jane leaned in. “Between you, me and the wall,
I’m a detective. I’m a detective on vacation, but something funny is going on
around here, and it started with a body in my shed. So I’m asking questions.”

Hugh guffawed. “Detective, huh? You look plenty
smart, so maybe you are. And you just made Paul’s day. No one else likes his idea
that the stranger who roamed into town a couple of days before the kids all
left was really a serial killer leaving a trail of corpses across the country.”

Jane grimaced. “I hope it’s not true, but it
does make you wonder. Especially with everyone saying those guys were weird and
gave them the heebie-jeebies.”

“Hey, Jane.” Jake came around the corner from
the book stacks. “Check this out.” He held out his phone, open to email.

She took it and read.

It was from their home-brewing church organist
friend Franny.

“So sorry to bother you while you are away. But
I can’t remember which batch the beer I sent came from, and one batch is
bad—over yeasty. It could give you the tummy yuckies. I feel just awful having
to message you, but I don’t want you drinking it, if I can help it. Things just
got a little confused around the house while I was at the hospital. My
grandkids came over. Made a real mess of our beer. So, so sorry! I won’t bother
you again. Your mom gave me your email. Blessings on your married life.”

Bad beer?

She didn’t personally have the “tummy yuckies,”
but she had only sipped, since she had no interest in drinking the stuff. “Do
you think this is what got Coco?” She kept her voice very low, hoping Hugh and
Paul were at least a little deaf, but not counting on it.

“That would be some pretty bad tummy yuckies.”

“Please don’t try to make that part of our
relational language.” Jane covered the phone. “Seriously. I’m not down with
that.”

Jake grinned. “I think it’s already too late. By
the way, how are you feeling…in your tummy. Any yuckies?”

“None. No gastronomical discomfort at all.”

“Which was wise.”

“Anyone else test the home brew?”

“Nope. Just you, me and Coco. I gave Mason the
PBR and we still have three full bottles.”

“Would it be worth testing?”

“Not if by testing you mean me drinking it all
and seeing if I get sick.”

Jane handed the phone back and stood up. “Shall
we?”

Paul stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “If
you’re in the mood for gossip, try Jackstays, a little bar on the canal side of
Astoria. You’ll get all the gossip you want over there.”

“Thanks.” Jane followed Jake out, considering
the idea. Astoria was right next door, technically. They could hit the bar and
see what was up. But then, it was also a different town. Would they really keep
up with Warrenton news? And if Jackstays was the kind of place Paul liked,
would they be gossiping about half a dozen runaway teens?

They paused on the front porch of the library,
the sea wind bracing.

“What next, Captain?” Jake asked.

“Well…” Jane scanned the horizon for the late
morning sun. It was much too early to hit the bars. “It is our honeymoon…”

Later that afternoon Jane, Jake, Rocky and Flora
met at Jackstays.

Expecting a hole in the wall with a grimy vinyl
awning and some flashing neon signs, Jake almost drove past the little bistro.
The vibe inside was classy. Well-polished wood floors, hip urban metal and wood
chairs, paper-covered tables. In a quiet booth, over a plate of salmon and kale-slaw
tacos and an icy glass of cranberry lemonade, Jane caught her mentors up on the
local gossip and everything else besides.

“So you think you poisoned Coco with over-yeasty
beer.” Rocky took a deep drink from his pint of stout. “It doesn’t really fit
the symptoms.”

“On the other hand, alcohol poisoning would,”
Flora said. “Maybe that one beer was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

A waiter with his hair in a long black braid
hovered near their booth.

“Taylor certainly drank too much the night
before. I guess it could be a common thing with those particular people.”

The waiter inched closer.

“I think I need to go see Daisy next.” Jane
sipped her tart but surprisingly refreshing drink. “I just need a good reason.
And her address.”

“What about this Hannah character?” Rocky asked.
“I think she’s your next line of inquiry.”

Flora put her fork down. “I was thinking exactly
the same thing.” She laid a hand on Rocky’s leather-jacket-clad arm. “As a
puzzle piece, Hannah doesn’t fit in well. It’s easy to explain a road trip.
It’s not easy to explain Hannah. If you can explain her, you will be well on
your way to explaining everything.”

The waiter leaned in close to the table. “How’s
everything doing for you?” He smiled, all teeth and crinkly eyes. Jane guessed
he had no problems getting good tips.

“It’s delicious.” Jake threw his arm over Jane’s
shoulder.

“Did I hear you mention Taylor and Coco?” He
leaned on the table. “From over in Warrenton?”

Jane sipped her drink and nodded.

“Good friends of mine.”

“We met on the beach a couple of nights ago,”
Jake said.

“I’ve known them forever. We went to school
together.”

“Is Coco okay?” Jane asked.

He shook his head. “I think they’ll let her out
later today. Definitely alcohol poisoning. Those two need to lay off the drink.
Get out of town like their friends did.”

“Lots of kids move away after they graduate?”
Jane picked at her taco to keep her hands busy. She didn’t want to mess this
up. Paul had sent her here for a reason.

“If they can, but Cherry and those other girls
were too young to move away yet.”

“But they did.” Jane lifted an eyebrow.

“They’ll be back by the time school starts.
Those girls were all good girls. Not a rebel in the bunch.”