Beach Thriller(91)
The bluffs looked stunning at any time of day, but especially when sunset painted the sky with shades of pink and orange. Soon night would fall. By then, guests would be too absorbed in music, dancing, and drinks to notice much beyond their immediate surroundings—the partner in their arms, the cocktails in hand.
No sooner had Ethan cut the engine than a pair of valets, dressed in white shirts and black pants, approached. He handed over his keys along with some cash, though given the makes and models of the luxury cars pulling in behind them, it was unlikely he’d be giving the best tip of the night.
Ethan reached out his hand to help Holly step down from the cab. She thanked him while fixing the neckline of her floral dress.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
The compliment coaxed a smile from her, one that quickly faded. They weren’t here for a good time.
Holly watched one beleaguered server after another carry tray after tray of hors d’oeuvres to the stairs before they disappeared into the deepening twilight. They were like ants on the march, no different from the servers she and Anna had once been. And like before, their sweat equity would go as unappreciated as the air everyone breathed.
Several guests moved in and out of the house, probably using the two bathrooms on the first floor—no way would Maeve allow porta-potties to mar the beauty of her event.
“Should we split up? I need to find Serena and Gail.” Anxiety flitted across Holly’s skin. She couldn’t fail Jade, and both women were vital parts of her big plan—which, in hindsight, felt more like a vague idea than a solid strategy.
“Let’s head to the beach and get a feel for the party first. We’ll probably find your friends down there. And don’t skip eating—you need your energy, especially after your veggies turned into inedible flambé.”
Holly allowed herself a moment of lightness. “Very funny. Maybe I invented a culinary masterpiece, but we’ll never know, seeing as you doused it in chemicals.” She gave him a side smile.
Ethan gently took her hand. A small jolt of electricity made her feel like a kid again. Together they descended the winding stairs built into the side of the cliff.
“I wish my folks were able to come to this party,” Ethan said wistfully. “But with Mom’s bad hearing and Dad’s bum knees, it’s just not like it was.”
“Were they regulars at the Beach Ball?” Holly gulped. She hadn’t asked Ethan yet about his family connection to the Carmichaels.
“They never missed one of Maeve’s charity events,” he said. “Even if she could be a snob, Maeve was always very generous to the causes my mom championed.”
As their feet finally hit the sand, a rush of embarrassment compelled Holly to fess up. “I saw a picture of you and your mother receiving a check from Maeve. It was in my sister’s evidence box, on the back of a newspaper clipping about the fire. Conrad was in the photo, too. It made me wonder if you and he were closer than you said.”
Ethan chuckled dryly. “You thought I was a philandering cad who also had a secret bromance with your number-one suspect?”
Holly grimaced. “That was the other reason I didn’t text you back,” she explained with a shrug.
“Trust me, Conrad and I never ran in the same circles.”
With relief, she looped her arm through his and pulled him closer. What a strange feeling to be happy around this man, yet also filled with a deep sense of dread. Where was Jade?
The party buzzed around them. On the beach, a large white tent stood decorated with string lights, beneath which a long buffet table was stocked with tropical-themed dishes: tuna tartare, crab cakes, fruit skewers, and grilled shrimp, in addition to what the servers were passing around. The table also held a large crystal punch bowl that reflected the party lights like a disco ball.
At the far end of the tent was the jazz band, crammed onto a makeshift stage. People danced and swayed to the music in their party dresses, shorts the color of summer fruit, chino pants, and Hawaiian shirts, having the time of their lives, all with no shoes on their feet.
The servers did their best to keep up with orders, but there was also a lone bar—a thatched hut with a roof made of palm fronds, lit by tiki torches.
It was fortunate the tide was low enough to leave plenty of space for the barefoot ballers to mingle around the tent. The beach looked pristine; Maeve must have had landscapers clear the sand of every last scrap of seaweed.
With the shoreline glowing brightly, it was a magical sight, something Holly could appreciate more now that she was a guest. While many people were taking pictures of the moonlight rippling over the ocean waves, at least two professional photographers were also there to capture the festivities for the media.
After leaving their shoes at the shoe check station, Holly and Ethan worked the party, looking for Serena and Gail. The guests, especially those trying to dance, burst into laughter as they kicked up sand or stumbled on the uneven surface.
Holly scanned the crowd, also hoping to spot Jade, knowing deep down she probably wouldn’t. But it didn’t take long for her to see Conrad, who was holding court near the thatched-roof bar.
He was dressed in a relaxed linen blazer with palm patterns, worn over a crisp button-down shirt and white khakis. He was holding a cocktail served in a fresh pineapple.
She watched him from a distance. Her anger surged, but she kept it under control. Losing her temper wouldn’t help Jade. She needed to be careful and strategic. Based on Conrad’s suspicious behavior the night before, she was sure he was hiding something—most likely her missing friend.