Mother-Daughter Murder Night(27)

Paul’s unkempt hair flopped over one eye. He struck Lana as a man-child, someone who could flash hot or cold but preferred to spend his time floating in a warm bath. What kind of secrets could he be hiding?

Before she had enough time to seriously contemplate the possibilities, the detectives ended their interview. They’d extracted a promise from Paul that he’d stay in the area, that he wouldn’t go out on any more strange boats with strange women without at least getting their phone number, and that he’d stop handing out old life jackets like candy. They told him he was cleared to reopen for business that Sunday, as long as he agreed to let Detective Ramirez come that day to observe the Kayak Shack in action.

Ramirez looked less than thrilled when her partner volunteered her for this assignment. She eyed the boats hanging overhead, patting her tight bun as if the wind had already started wreaking havoc on her hair.

“What if you accompany Jacqueline on her tours on Sunday?” Lana suggested. She curled a strand of wig behind her ear. “She’s Paul’s best guide. You’ll see how safe she is, how responsible. And I’m sure she’d feel more comfortable with an officer like you in her boat.”

“If you want, I can hook you up with a sweet discount on a new wet suit,” Paul said, motioning to a rack of hot-pink neoprene.

Ramirez pulled her blazer tight around her waist. “I’m good, thank you. See you Sunday.”

The detectives extracted themselves from their camping chairs, Nicoletti leaving his flipped on its side like a wounded animal.

“Wait,” Lana said, when they got to the door. “I’m sorry to impose, but could you give me a ride home?”

Everyone looked at her, the detectives in surprise, Paul in cool assessment.

“Only if you’re leaving now; I thought it might be easier for everyone.” Lana turned to Paul. “I’m sure you have work to do.” He nodded, saying nothing.

Ramirez gave her jacket a tug. “Fine. But no more questions about the case.”

“Of course.” All Lana wanted was a safe place to think about what had happened. And getting into Paul’s car alone no longer felt like the best option.





Chapter Sixteen




“WHERE WERE YOU?”

Lana walked in exhausted from the ordeal with Paul and the cops, ready to yank off her wig and flop into bed like a dead fish. Instead, she was accosted by a raging woman with a grocery bag who bore an uncanny resemblance to her daughter.

But it couldn’t be Beth. Her daughter was like a hermit crab: able to defend herself if provoked, but lacking a killer instinct. Lana ticked through her mental Rolodex of past fights—the big ones—full of operatic shouts, thrown chairs, and door-slamming accusations. Plenty started by her ex-husband. A few launched by fiery boyfriends and business associates. None by Beth.

“Ma? Where have you been?” Beth repeated.

Lana smiled lazily and kicked off her heels. “I’m not your daughter.”

Beth banged a case of Diet Coke down onto the counter. “I know that. My daughter is out on the back porch, doing her chemistry homework. My daughter came home from school on time. And when my daughter noticed you weren’t here, weren’t answering your phone, she called me. And I raced home early from work to find that my mother with cancer was indeed missing. So I went to get groceries and look for you in ditches along the road while my daughter waited here, wondering what the heck had happened to her grandma.”

Beth started shot-putting cheese sticks into the fridge. Lana cautiously stepped past her to the table.

“And what the hell are you wearing?”

Lana turned and threw back her shoulders. “This, my dear, is Armani.”

Beth snorted. “You had a board meeting?”

“Of course not. I was at lunch.”

“With a lawyer?”

“No. Someone better. Jack’s employer. Paul Hanley.”

Beth said nothing.

“And I talked with the detectives. The Kayak Shack is reopening this Sunday. I’ve arranged for Jack to have a police escort that day, to keep her safe. The female detective. Ramirez. It’ll give Jack a chance to prove she wasn’t involved.”

It was at this moment Beth snapped.

She stormed over to Lana, Diet Coke in hand. For one terrifying moment, it appeared that Beth might swing the soda can directly into her mother’s perfect right cheekbone. Instead, Beth slammed it onto the table. Foam spilled over, lapping at her clenched fist. Beth didn’t seem to notice.

“Ma. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I—”

“First you take off on a ridiculous date without telling anyone. With a guy who is at best unreliable, at worst some kind of mud flat murderer.”

“I’m sure he’s harmless.”

“You’re sure, huh? Did the detectives tell you not to worry about sweet little Paul and his killer life jackets?”

“No, of course not. Those detectives are idiots.”

“Idiots. Right.” Beth took a sip of soda, gathering energy from inside the can. “Have those idiots cleared Jack yet?”

“They say she’s still a person of interest, but I think—”

“You think? You didn’t think. You volunteered my daughter to take a detective out in a kayak on Sunday, before they’ve even figured out what happened to the dead guy, before they’ve stopped looking at Jack like she’s a teen assassin, before I’ve even given Jack permission to go back out there.”