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  Between the two bedrooms, there was a Jack and Jill bathroom. Worn vinyl flooring and faded in some places, and cracked turquoise wall tiles topped with a row of black tiles about two thirds up the wall. The vanity looked as though it may have been part of the last renovation, which would put it around circa 1980. It had two cream-colored clamshell-shaped sinks set into a marble top that looked to have rust stains on it. The origin of which I couldn’t imagine, but the saving grace of the vanity was that it was large. From the looks of things, Lisa had commandeered three quarters of it and left Roddy with a measly space for his razor and toothbrush and a little kit bag.

  Looking at the display of items on the vanity, I flitted my eyes. I could have built most of a new person out of what was on the counter. Hair pieces, fake nails, a box of eyelashes, and a knee brace were highlights amidst the mountain of lotions, potions, creams, and wipes. On the shower rod, she was drying two pairs of Spanx. It made me cringe to wonder what Jack Junior might see if she ever went au natural.

  On my way out of the room, I looked under the vanity. I spied a grocery bag tucked behind the sink trap, wrestled it out, and untied the knot made with the handles. Translucent amber prescription bottles. I took one out and examined the label. I couldn’t correctly pronounce the name of the contents if you paid me, but the prescription in my hand was made out to Reg King and had come from the Marysville pharmacy. Probably just as well that Reg hadn’t picked this one up since side effects listed on the bottle included constipation and diarrhea. I guess they offset each other. But that didn’t change the fact that Roddy Claire had Reg King’s prescriptions. I cursed myself for not taking my phone on my jog, or I’d have taken photos, but my stop into the Vine was more impromptu than planned.

  I leaned in the doorway between the two bedrooms and bit on the end of my right index finger as I surveyed the rest of the space. I dismissed the idea of looking for any loot in a wall safe since the room didn’t seem to be equipped with one. At least the owners of the Vine knew their clientele. The pill bottles were one thing, but I needed more. Roddy could easily deny or dump those bottles.

  Now, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but sometimes a horn is worth tooting, and my particular horn or talent, as it were, is that I’m pretty good at finding things, a skill that had yet to let me down. Not when I needed to find Nat’s boat key in Bugsy’s cottage and not when I found that needle in a haystack at the fair when I was a kid.

  The desk. My last chance to find proof. Of something. I sauntered over and let my fingers trip over a scattering of papers. Pay stubs from Maxi Maid, take-out menus with a few items asterisked, the free magazine that they give out at the real estate office and… what’s this? I flipped open the Hilroy spiral bound notebook. “MMM Bakery 0511, Stokes Pharmacy 9119, Devon’s Jewellers 1124, Roberts Auto Sales 1589, Marysville Library ….” And the list went on for about eight rows. I read it again, trying to make sense of the numbers. They certainly had nothing to do with the phone numbers of the places. I’d called the MMM Bakery enough to know their last four digits were 2253–it spells CAKE, by the way. What then? Too many digits to be dates, not addresses either. Security codes?

  The next page in the notebook was a list of dates with notes beside them. Nov 1, 3 hrs MMM was scrawled in cursive. And so, the list went on and on. This had to be Lisa Claire’s work log book, and my bet was that she had all the security codes for the places she cleaned, including the two that had been broken into. By the way, her handwriting had those super-loopy vowels Hives told us to watch out for. I ripped a page out of the back of the book and jotted down the numbers. I also jotted down the name Reg King, the person for whom those prescriptions were meant. Just for kicks, I pulled on the center drawer of the cheap plywood desk. It stuck but finally gave way after a lot of persuading, jiggling, and pushing the drawer bottom from the underside. Something was jamming it, and when I finally got it open, it only opened enough for me to get my wrist in and rummage around blindly. With the tips of my fingers, I felt something smooth and metallic and slid my wrist in as far as I could until the pinching pain was unbearable. I drew the item to the front of the drawer with the middle and ring fingers of my left hand like the claw game at the arcade, and when I looked down at my find, I could hardly believe my eyes. I flipped it over to look for the engraving, and there it was. “Capt. J.M.” on the reverse of my father’s Rolex.

  “Oh my God!” I growled and clasped it onto my wrist.

  When I heard conversation outside the door, my heart got pumping hard and slowed when the voices moved along. Probably just a newly registered guest extolling the virtues of the place. Look, honey, there’s actually a roof and windows. I stood behind the door for a minute, waiting for the voices to leave earshot, and I made my hasty exit as covertly as I’d made my entrance, priding myself on remembering to depress the door lock before I closed the door behind me. I had being sneaky down pat. Or so I thought.

  ✽✽✽

  Fueled by adrenaline and a desire to get the heck back home and mull over my fruitful visit to the Vine, I am sure I broke a personal record for best time on my run. Each footfall was charged with a blend of energy and curiosity. I held my right arm close to my side as I ran to keep my father’s Rolex, too big for my wrist, from sliding off. I tapped the pocket of my running shorts a few times to ensure the paper I’d tucked in there was still with me. How much proof would Hagen need and how much would he chastise me for having obtained it in the manner I had?

  I had showered, re-dressed, tucked the page from Lisa’s notebook into my jeans, and was about to lay out my findings to Ags over lemonade at the table and chair set in front of her place when, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a police cruiser coming down the marina hill. Hmph. Hagen stops in for coffee all the time, I told myself, yet I couldn’t keep my mind from wondering if it really was a mere coincidence.

  “What’s the matter?” Ags looked across the table and asked me intently.

  “What?”

  “You just went white as a sheet. Are you alright?”

  I nodded and felt my chest heave out the deep breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. What was I worried about? He couldn’t possibly know what I’d done, and even if he did, how could he be angry about it? I was practically doing his job for him. And yet, as lug soles crunched on the gravel toward us, I could feel my leg tremble nervously under the table. I tried to decipher the tone of his steps. They weren’t hasty, but at the same time they weren’t relaxed.

  “Oh, hi!” I said cheerily, noticing my voice was a little higher than usual while I forced a nervous smile. Don’t look guilty, I told myself.

  Ags looked up at him. “Hi, there.”

  Hagen smiled weakly at Ags and slid me a steely expression, then he pulled out the chair between us, put his hat on the table, and took a seat. “Ladies. How are you both?”

  “Oh, fine.” I added a nod. “Ags, how about you, are you fine too?” I locked eyes with her, letting her know something was up and that I’d explain later.

  She nodded slowly, acknowledging my signal. “Fine. Yes, I’m fine. If there was one word to describe me today, it sure would be fine.”

  “How are you?” I asked Hagen and hoped that he wouldn’t notice my leg still shaking uncontrollably under the table.

  “Honestly, I’ve been better,” he said, turning his gaze from Aggie’s face to mine, where it lingered until I shifted my attention to the top of the table, counting the scratches in the woven aluminum.

  “Rough day?” Ags asked, trying to thaw the frosty air that had descended upon us like a cold front.

  “You might say that,” Hagen replied. And while I felt he was looking at me, I couldn’t lift my eyes to meet his. “See, I was out making the rounds. Actually, I was a little tired, a little cranky today.” He folded his arms in front of his chest as he leaned back in the chair.

  “Oh, well, it happens,” Ags said.

  “Didn’t get much sleep since I’ve been studying when I’
m not at work.” He cleared his throat. “And then my boss texted me a picture.”

  “Oh?” Ags asked, her voice laced with intrigue.

  “Really?” I said, and my voice trickled up again to that surprised-sounding octave.

  Hagen looked from Aggie to me and I averted my gaze again.

  “Yeah, see, one of the guys at the station told the lieutenant that I knew the woman in this photo that’d been circulating. In fact, he told him that I knew her quite well.”

  Ags looked from Hagen to me and found me biting my bottom lip.

  Hagen cocked his head and looked off into the distance. “See, the funny thing is, she was photographed after she’d trespassed and broken into a hotel room.”

  I flitted my eyes. The Vine Street Inn could scarcely be called a hotel. It barely qualifies as a hovel.

  “You don’t say?” Ags broke the pregnant pause, and I think I saw the corners of her mouth turn up.

  Hagen was about to launch into something when the front door of Aggie’s place opened and Bugsy emerged with a bottle of juice. We all exchanged cordial nods and half smiles. Hagen waited until Bugsy was out of earshot before he pivoted his body toward me. I looked up from the table, a little chagrined to see his jaw tighten. If he wasn’t in such a mood, it would have been sexy as hell. He paused for a moment, perhaps to consider what to say, as if he hadn’t rehearsed it a few times already. I know I would have.

  “Why?” was all he said.

  “That’s a great question. How much time do you have?”

  “This isn’t funny, Alex. You broke into the Vine.”

  “You did?” Ags was incredulous, though I don’t know why. She’d been a party to my breaking and entering before, and if she’d been around earlier, I would have enlisted her to keep watch for me. One could argue that it was partially her fault that I’d been spotted.

  “The owner took a picture of you with his phone. Did you know that?”

  I took a sip of lemonade, stalling. “Can’t blame him.” I took another sip, figuring it might be my last taste of lemonade for a while.

  “Told the desk sergeant your name was…” Hagen produced his notebook from his chest pocket and flipped up a few pages. “Euphegenia Coddlesworth.”

  I choked on the lemonade as it went down.

  “Oh my.” Ags began to rub her forehead.

  “Are you ok? Seriously?” he asked me.

  “Define ok.”

  “I mean, have you experienced a massive head injury recently?” Hagen shook his head. “You know I’m supposed to find you and bring you in.”

  “What? For breaking into that dump? Don’t you even want to know what I found?”

  Hagen put his hat on and pushed his chair back, then his hand went to his belt from where he drew his handcuffs.

  Jack Junior, who had probably been watching the entire time, came out to the steps of Aggie’s store carrying a snack pack of peanuts. “Hey, you two. Uh-uh, what’s going on here? Can’t you save the handcuffs for alone time?”

  “Jack,” Hagen nodded. “I’m afraid this is business. I’ve got to take her in.”

  “What’d you do this time, kiddo?” Jack called out.

  “Oh, he’s arresting me for —”

  “Alex, you have the right to remain silent. Why don’t you try exercising it?” Hagen said, the cuffs dangling in his hand.

  “Ben, come on. You don’t have to,“ I protested.

  Hagen was suddenly official. “Turn around, please.”

  When I did turn, I saw the gaggle from the Gee Spot speed-walking toward us. I overheard Gladys ask Ginny if her hair looked alright. Looked fine to me, and in no time, they had front row seats to an episode of Cops.

  “See, I told you he likes it rough.” Gladys smiled and elbowed Ginny.

  Ginny nodded. “I knew it that day in the park when he was putting on that show.”

  “Ladies,” Hagen said by way of greeting, and when I looked back at him, he was blushing. “And that wasn’t a show, that was a primer in self-defence. Now—“

  “I was arrested once,” Geraldine’s words cut over the sound of Hagen’s explanation, and with that the attention was suddenly off me. “Remember when I let those rabbits loose from the lab in Chicago?”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Gladys guffawed. “Didn’t y’all—“

  “Most certainly did,” she answered Glady’s question that had apparently only been asked telepathically. After twenty years of friendship, I guess that’s possible. She shook her head. “Added assaulting an officer to it just because I kicked him.”

  “Geraldine, you kicked that boy in the nuts. Didn’t he talk with a falsetto for about a year and a half?” Gladys asked in her typical twang.

  “True. Don’t kick this one in the nuts, honey,” Geraldine offered by way of legal advice.

  I heard Hagen’s heavy sigh from behind me. “Ladies, if you please, I’m just going to—“

  Gladys inched closer to me. “Bet he has nice ones, don’t he?” she asked in a voice louder than a whisper.

  “Now’s a good time to exercise that right to remain silent, Michaels,” Hagen said loudly as he clinked the bracelets on me.

  Truth be told, I had no idea what his naughty bits looked like and, while Jack and Hagen had a brief exchange and Geraldine reveled in the sisterhood of being jailbirds with me, I hadn’t noticed Bugsy coming back our way until it was too late.

  “Thanks, Geraldine. Um, Hagen, can we hurry this up please?” I raised my voice. If there is one thing I didn’t need to hear, it was Bugsy telling me “I told you so”. For some reason, he consistently condemned my snooping. The closer he got, the more I felt myself get red. “Ok, Hagen, I’m ready. Jack, can you lock up my boat and feed my zoo?”

  “Sure, kiddo.”

  “Hang on a sec,” Hagen said as he babbled something into his radio.

  I walked toward the cruiser sideways, angling my cuffed hands behind me and out of Bugsy’s line of sight, but it was too late. He could hardly contain his smile, and his dimples looked like they had grown bigger. “This how you’re getting dates these days, Hagen?” he asked on approach.

  “Just doing my job, Bugsy.”

  “Beedle,” Bugsy corrected him.

  “Whatever,” Hagen replied.

  “What’s going on, Junior?” Bugsy asked.

  “Takin’ the kid,” Jack Junior said and popped a few peanuts into his mouth like he was at a ball game.

  “You didn’t,” Bugsy said, and when I glanced up from the ground, he had issued me a look that was a masterful cross between gloating and disappointment.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Don’t you even want to know what I found?” I asked Hagen as he drove us out of the marina.

  “No.”

  “But—“

  “No.”

  “Well, for starters, I found the watch they stole from me!”

  “Which watch? Who?”

  “My father’s Rolex. And Jack’s girlfriend and her rotten kid.”

  “And let me guess, you took it back.”

  “Damn right I did! I think I want to press charges. Can I do that when I’m at the station?”

  Hagen gave me disapproving eyes then put them back on the road. “So, you want to press charges for them taking your father’s watch that you then broke into a hotel room to steal? How did you know who had it?”

  “I didn’t. I got lucky. I also found a list of—“

  Hagen pulled the car over to an empty parking spot on State Street, put it in park, and turned his body to face me. He’d been kind enough to let me ride in the front seat. “Do you realize that you could have been hurt? What if they’d come back to their hotel room and caught you?”

  “I didn’t steal anything. Look—“

  “No, you look. Just because you have a feeling about somebody doesn’t mean you go off half cocked and conduct your own investigation.”

  “The woman who is staying in that room is dating Jack Junior and sh
e’s a liar. I just needed to see the extent of it for myself.”

  “You sure that’s why?”

  “Yes… What are you getting at?”

  “You sure you just don’t want to lose Jack?”

  “Lose Jack?”

  “Or see him happy?”

  I was speechless; of course I want to see him happy.

  “You’re not the only one with theories, Michaels. You surround yourself with Jack and his gang, you get companionship, and they pose no threat to your status as single. Maybe you don’t want them to find relationships either.”

  “You’ve been watching too much Dr. Phil. So, do you want to know what I found in the Vine or not?”

  Hagen let out a sigh. He knows how adept I am at changing the subject, especially when it gets into icky emotional territory. “Well, since you’re not going to remain silent, tell me.”

  “When I was in the Vine, I made a list. It’s in my back pocket. Right cheek. Alarm codes I think—the bakery, the pharmacy, Devon’s, et cetera.”

  “Devon’s?” Hagen’s voice and his eyes lit up.

  “Yeah, why?” I looked at Hagen’s intrigued expression. “Why is that so interesting?”

  “May I?” he asked.

  I giggled. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  Hagen shook his head at my impertinence then unbuckled my seatbelt and motioned for me to raise my derriere while he put his hand in the back pocket of my jeans. I’d like to say that it lingered there for a few seconds longer than it should have, but it didn’t. Hagen was all business, took the paper and unfolded it.

  “Ok, what’s it mean? Who’s Reg King?” he asked.

  “I have no clue. Maybe King is their real last name. Her name isn’t Lisa Claire. Her employer told me that much.”

  He smirked across at me. “I don’t even want to know how you got that information.”

  “Why are you so interested that Devon’s is on that list?” I studied his reaction.

  “Can I keep this?” he asked, folding the paper he’d plucked from my pocket.