Southern Discomfort Read online

  “I told all this to the police.”

  “Right, but the police mistakenly think that Drew was the one who killed Jason. We’re trying to prove them wrong.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not wrong.”

  I gaped at her. “What? You’ve worked alongside Drew for years, and you really think he has it in him to kill his own brother?”

  “The police seem to think so. It’s not my job to second-guess them. I doubt if it’s yours, either. Don’t you run a B&B or something?”

  Delilah leaned across the desk at Ava. “You seem pretty defensive. Maybe you had a beef against Jason. I hear you two butted heads a lot. Maybe you got tired of him and decided to end him.”

  Ava’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? Why would I kill my boss?”

  “Because he treated you and everyone else who works here badly. You said yourself there are plenty of other restaurants in Savannah. Without Jason around to give your future employers a negative referral, you could have any restaurant manager job in town—at a restaurant that wasn’t failing.”

  “Look, I played nice and let you speak to the employees. I’ve spoken with the police, and they were satisfied with my statement. I think it’s time for you two to go.” Ava stood and walked to the door, opening it for us to leave.

  Delilah and I shared a glance, but we got up and exited the office. Ava slammed the door shut the moment we passed the threshold.

  As we walked back through the restaurant, Delilah murmured to me, “I feel like someone’s hiding something.”

  I nodded. “I think you’re right.” Once we were outside and away from prying ears, I added, “Ava is still on the list. We’ll just have to go at her from a different angle.”

  “Good idea. I don’t think she’s going to do any more talking, though.”

  “Probably not. What were you saying about something else Terence told you before Ava came into the office and cut you off?”

  “Oh, right. Terence told me that a buddy of his saw Jason over in Thunderbolt the night he died. He was at one of the boat docks talking to some less-than-reputable gentlemen.”

  “Ooh! That sounds like bad news—what were they doing?”

  “Arguing over money, from the sounds of it.”

  My jaw dropped. “That’s perfect. We need to talk to those ‘gentlemen.’ But how are we going to find them?”

  “I already have that figured out. Terence said the guys are a fixture at one of the marinas, and he’ll find out from his buddy which dock space they rent. Evidently they’re known for…wholesaling.”

  I began to get a bad feeling about this. Lowering my voice, even though Delilah and I were the only ones around, I asked, “Are they drug dealers or something?”

  “I don’t think so. I think they’re more…illegal dealers of legal goods.”

  I made a face. “Oh, well that’s much better.”

  * * *

  —

  After finding some leftovers in the fridge to make a late dinner, Delilah and I decided to head over to Thunderbolt to check out the less-than-reputable sailors who’d been arguing with Jason the night he died. We changed clothes, and when we came out of our rooms and met in the hallway, we both looked at what the other was wearing and burst out laughing. Totally unplanned, we’d both decided to dress the part of a “tough chick” for this particular interview. I’d put on the black leather pants and vest I sometimes wore during band performances. Delilah had on a black tank top and cargo pants. Her dark hair was swept into a sleek ponytail, and she had on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Think we need a splash of color so we’re not coming off so cat burglar-y?”

  “Maybe. Although it’s going to be dark by the time we drive over there. I was thinking we might need to blend into the shadows.”

  “I thought we were talking, not stalking, tonight.”

  I laughed. “Well, you never know.”

  * * *

  —

  We got into Delilah’s old pickup truck and headed to Thunderbolt.

  Thunderbolt was a small community just east of town. There wasn’t much to the place besides a few marinas, subdivisions, and shrimp boats, so I wondered what kind of business Jason would have all the way over there.

  It was dark when we pulled up to an older marina full of fairly small, well-worn boats. Terence had texted Delilah that we’d find our “friends” at space seventeen, which was at the end of the rickety dock. There was really nowhere to hide in order to snoop on these guys, so we figured we’d have to go for the straightforward route. We evidently weren’t the only ones making a visit to the occupants of space seventeen tonight—there were three rough and tumble men jumping down from the side of the Guard Dog II as we approached.

  The men leered at us as they passed, and one of them muttered something totally inappropriate. Luckily they didn’t stop or try to engage us in conversation, but the looks they gave us, coupled with the anxiety of wondering what we were getting ourselves into, made my heart thud in my chest.

  Unruffled, as usual, Delilah marched up to the Guard Dog II and hollered at a guy around our age who seemed to be sleeping in a chair on deck. “Hey, can we come aboard?”

  He didn’t respond, but an older man popped his head up from below deck. A slow smile came across his face, and he drawled, “You betcha, darlin’.” He came up the steps, not taking his eyes off us. “What can I do you for? My boy’s sleeping off some day drinking, but I’m plenty awake.”

  I shuddered. I was not cut out for this.

  Delilah said, “Jason Green told us to come see you.”

  “Oh, he did, did he? From beyond the grave?” When the guy cracked up at his own joke, I noticed he was missing several teeth.

  Not missing a beat, Delilah rolled her eyes. “No, stupid. Before he kicked it. He said he did good business with you.”

  “That he did. Come aboard. I’m sure I have something here you gals would want.”

  Delilah leaned over to me and snickered. “Not in a million years.”

  I whispered, “I don’t know if we should go on this boat alone with him.”

  “If he’s the worst guy we have to go up against, we’ll be lucky. Come on.” She pulled me with her up onto the boat.

  Toothless gestured toward the stairs to the lower deck. “The good stuff’s down there. High-end electronics, fine jewelry, and the like. Or are you looking for seafood like your dearly departed cheapskate friend?”

  I stared at him, puzzled. “Wait. Jason was buying seafood from you?”

  He opened up a nearby cooler. “Local shrimp and oysters. Take your pick.”

  I was still stunned. “So he wasn’t buying anything illegal?”

  Toothless grinned at me again. “Make no mistake—our goods ain’t illegal. The way we get them…well, that’s another story.”

  “Stolen seafood…” Delilah muttered. “Stolen seafood…”

  Evidently she was as flummoxed as I was. I said to Toothless, “Was Jason square with his payments to you? Did he owe you anything?”

  “No, ma’am. He might have tried to get away with bargaining down our prices, but he didn’t owe us no debts.”

  “Hot fish!” Delilah exclaimed, grabbing me by the arm and shaking me. “Hot fish!”

  “D, what are you—”

  She said to Toothless, “Never mind, sir. We have exactly what we need. You have a good evening.” Pulling me along, she hopped down off the boat and hurried back up the dock.

  “Y’all come back now, y’hear?” Toothless called at our retreating backs.

  Delilah’s eyes were huge. “Do you know what this means?”

  I frowned. “That we wasted the evening on a trip out here that netted us nothing?”

  “No! Well…maybe sort of. But this is huge—yo
u remember I told you Uncle Frank told me that hot fish is not what we’re looking for?”

  “Not this again,” I groaned.

  “Just listen. We came out here chasing a lead, which ended up being stolen seafood. Or in other words…hot fish!”

  “So what? Even if the ghost of Uncle Frank did speak to you, his message was too cryptic to be of any help. Color me unimpressed.”

  She cuffed me on the shoulder. “You’re such a scoffer.”

  “It’s pronounced realist.”

  Delilah threw her arm around me and steered me toward her truck. “I’ll wear you down eventually, little sister.”

  * * *

  —

  I was not in the mood to do anything but go home and sleep off this draining day, but Tucker Heyward had other plans for me. He was sitting on his stoop when we pulled up and parked.

  Waving to us from across the street, he called, “Howdy, neighbors.”

  Ugh. Even his voice was grating to me. It wasn’t like it was an unpleasant-sounding voice—quite the opposite, in fact. His voice was deep and rich and almost soothing…but it was his voice. And, therefore, annoying.

  Delilah poked me in the ribs and whispered, “Go over there and thank him properly for the flowers.”

  I made a face. “Come on, D. I’m exhausted. Can’t it wait?”

  “Absolutely not.” She grabbed me around the waist so I couldn’t get away and walked us across the street to meet him. “Hey, Tucker. Quinn was just telling me how much she’s enjoying those gorgeous flowers you sent her.” Delilah pinched me, releasing only when I started speaking.

  “Yes, thank you so much, Tucker. It wasn’t necessary, but the flowers are beautiful.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He cocked his head to the side and gave us a quizzical look. “Have you two been to a costume party or something?”

  It was mid-October, so that would be a valid reason why we were dressed so strangely. I didn’t feel like explaining it otherwise, so I did something I tried not to do. I lied. “Yes. Costume party.”

  The corner of Tucker’s mouth pulled into a smile. “And you’re dressed as…?”

  Idiots. We were dressed like idiots. I had nothing.

  Delilah saved us again with her quick thinking. “Biker chicks. Can’t you tell?”

  He nodded. “Of course. I should have guessed that.” He thankfully changed the subject. “So I told you I’m renovating this place for my folks, right?”

  “Yes, how are things going?” Delilah asked.

  Ugh. The last thing I wanted to do was stand here in my leather pants and shoot the breeze with Tucker Heyward.

  “Great. Would you like to see what I’ve done so far?”

  I suppressed a groan. I was wrong—the actual last thing I wanted to do was take a tour of Tucker’s fixer-upper project and have to ooh and aah over it.

  “Absolutely,” Delilah said, pushing me ahead of her toward the steps.

  Tucker gestured for us to go inside the townhome ahead of him.

  It was a gorgeous place—all high ceilings and woodwork and wood floors. It needed some TLC to be sure, but you could see where Tucker had patched the walls and prepped them for painting. The woodwork seemed to have been sanded and repaired and was ready for a coat of stain. He’d done quite a lot in only a few days.

  “I ripped out the carpet yesterday and found these gorgeous old pine floors. I was thrilled. They’re in great shape, so I’m not even going to have to do much besides refinish them.” Tucker seemed to be truly enraptured with this house. You could tell by the sparkle in his eyes. “There’s a stained-glass window in the next room you have to see.”

  Delilah took out her phone and frowned at it. “Papa Sal texted. Seems that we have a bed wetter in the blue room and need a change of sheets. You stay and get the tour. I’ll head home.”

  As much as I didn’t want to change some soiled sheets, I equally didn’t want to stay here alone with Tucker. “I’ll do it, D. You always take the gross jobs.”

  Fighting a smile, she said, “Absolutely not. You two kids have fun.”

  As I watched her hurry away, I had the sneaking suspicion that she’d made up the bed-wetting to make sure Tucker and I got some alone time. Had I not been clear that I wanted her to quit trying to push the two of us together?

  “I guess it’s just you and me, then,” Tucker said, smiling.

  “I guess it is.”

  He showed me around the place, jabbering on and on about the original wood and the…blah, blah, blah. Admittedly, I tuned him out. I was busy making a mental list of who Delilah and I needed to talk to tomorrow. It was a lengthy list. I didn’t know how we’d manage to get it all done.

  “Quinn?”

  “Yes?” I whirled around, realizing I’d been staring at that stained-glass window he’d mentioned for way too long.

  Tucker smiled. “I get that you’re still dealing with some stuff from the other night. Probably the last thing you want to do is make pleasant conversation and pretend you’re interested in something when clearly your mind is a million miles away.”

  Ding dang it. Was I that transparent? Probably. I sighed. “I’m sorry, Tucker. It’s been a weird week. Drew got arrested this morning, and…my head’s just not on straight. I’m poor company.”

  Tucker came over to stand in front of me. Too close for my taste, so I took a step back. Something flashed in his eyes, but he quickly shook it off. “Is there anything I can do? I’m a good listener if you need to vent.”

  He certainly seemed sincere, but I wasn’t about to lay my fears and doubts at his feet. Besides, there was nothing he could do to help with my investigation, so there was no point in bringing him up to speed. I still wasn’t convinced he didn’t have some sort of morbid fascination with the events surrounding Jason’s death.

  I shook my head. “Thank you, but no. I should get going. The house is beautiful. I’d love to come back and see it when you’re finished.”

  His shoulders slumped slightly. I’d never seen him anything less than confident and borderline arrogant. “Oh, sure. Well, you know where I live…”

  “Right.” Awkward. “I should go.”

  I turned and walked purposefully out of the room, only to trip over some paint cans as I rounded the corner. Tucker was there in an instant and caught me before I landed on the floor. I felt that same jolt as when he’d taken hold of my arm yesterday on the porch. Was there something wrong with his shoes that they conducted electricity or something? But was that even possible in a house without any carpet? I didn’t have time to ponder it as Tucker’s strong arms pulled me back into a standing position. He stood close with both of his arms around me. As I looked up into his clear blue eyes, time seemed to screech to a halt. The moment was broken when Tucker abruptly released me and stepped backward.

  “Sorry. I’m always leaving a mess when I work,” he muttered, going over to open the door for me.

  “Um…no problem. I always seem to find a way to find things to trip over.” I let out a nervous titter of laughter. “Thanks. I…See you soon.”

  I ducked out the front door and ran for home as quickly as I could without looking like a total fool.

  Chapter 16

  My dreams that night were filled with disconcerting mash-ups of high school and present day, most of them starring Tucker Heyward in some capacity. Much like real life, dream Drew was stuck in jail, and I was powerless to help him. I woke feeling more tired than when I’d gone to bed.

  I hurriedly slopped breakfast together for the second day in a row, and Delilah ran around like a chicken with its head cut off to get the mess cleaned up so we could get on with our day. We noticed the sidelong glances from Papa Sal, but offered no explanation for our behavior. We’d decided not to tell him what we’d got ourselves into because we didn’t want to worry him. But i
f confronted, we didn’t want to lie to him, either. We hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  Delilah offered to take over my morning chores while I paid a visit to Drew to find out some answers to the questions we’d come up with after speaking to his staff yesterday.

  When I walked into the room at the police station and took a look at Drew, I was shocked by what I saw. His eyes were sunken. His skin was pale. He looked like he’d aged since yesterday.

  “Drew, how are you holding up?” I asked, sitting down across from him.

  He let out a long breath. “Not good. Didn’t sleep last night.”

  That was no surprise. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I thought I told you to stay away.”

  “I need to pick your brain.”

  His face turned hopeful. “Is it about the investigation? Did you have any luck?”

  “Yes…and no.” I related everything we’d found out from speaking to the staff and to the “hot fish” dealers.

  He nodded. “I knew some of that stuff was going on, like Jason’s fling with Sasha and the questionably obtained seafood. Unfortunately, nothing you learned is a big red flag, at least not in my mind.”

  “I disagree. Did you know Valerie wanted to sell Green to Mark Potter?”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t in favor of it, so it didn’t happen.”

  “Okay, but with Jason gone and you out of the way, what’s to say that the sale couldn’t go through now?”

  “I still own part of Green.”

  “But does Jason’s share go to Valerie or to you? That would make a huge difference.”

  “It, um…Honestly I don’t know. When he and Val started having problems, he consulted a lawyer to make sure she could get her hands on as little as possible of his assets in the event of a divorce. I don’t know if he had a will, though, so it might not matter. If he didn’t, everything would default to her since they’re still married, no matter the safeguards he’d made.”

  “Who would know about all that? His lawyer?”