Wish Upon a Christmas Star Page 7

  She could deal with Logan being angry at her. She wasn’t at all sure she could deal with his kindness.

  * * *

  MARIA ZIGZAGGED THROUGH the palm-lined Key West streets, walking quickly and taking peeks over her shoulder to make sure Logan wasn’t following her. Old Town was a mix of retail shops, business offices, small hotels and private residences housed in wood-frame structures painted in pastel shades. Most of the homes had peaked metal roofs, gingerbread trim, covered porches and wreaths on the doors.

  After about a half mile, she stopped watching her back. She continued to work on squashing her guilt over giving Logan the slip when he’d flown a thousand miles to offer his help.

  He was a distraction she couldn’t afford. If her brother were alive, she might have only a short window of time to find him before he took off again.

  Key Carl could help her focus her efforts.

  She spied the other private investigator’s office in a pale green, one-story duplex with a real estate office on the other side. A petite young woman with a mass of curly blond hair tied back in a ponytail emerged from Key Carl’s place. She checked the door to make sure it was locked before walking in the opposite direction.

  “Wait!” Maria called. “You with the blond hair.”

  A tour bus passed by, drowning out her voice. The woman waited until the bus passed before hurrying across an intersection to a block that appeared mostly residential.

  She moved fast for such a small person. Her wedged sandals and snug yellow skirt didn’t even slow her down. Maria ran to catch up, crossing the street against the light and slowing only when she got to within a few paces.

  “You’ve gone and done it now, Kayla,” she heard the woman say. “You wanted him to notice you. Well, he can’t help but notice if you screw up.”

  The roar of the bus might not be the only reason the woman hadn’t heard Maria calling. She was talking to herself.

  “Excuse me,” Maria said in a voice loud enough to be heard at a rock concert.

  The blonde startled, her hand flying to her throat. She whirled, her posture relaxing when she got a look at Maria. “Oh, you scared me!”

  “Sorry,” Maria said. “I was just trying to get your attention.”

  “You didn’t hear me talking to myself, did you?” She was cute rather than pretty, with a round face and freckles sprinkled across her nose. “You did, didn’t you? That is so embarrassing.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Maria had taken an instant liking to the girl. She searched for something reassuring to say. “We’re all apprehensive about something.”

  “It’s more of a someone than a something. Alex Suarez just hired me. I’ve only had a crush on him for, like, two years.” She stopped abruptly, shrugging. “You must think I’m some kind of nut job. We’re strangers and I’m prattling on like I’ve known you all my life.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Maria couldn’t remember the last time she’d met somebody who was so open and honest. “Sometimes it helps to get another person’s perspective.”

  “You really think so? Because even if it hadn’t been Alex who hired me, I’d still have a challenge in front of me. I’m not sure I can...” She trailed off in midsentence and thumped her forehead. “I’m sorry. TMI. Too much information. I’m just going on and on. I haven’t even asked why you stopped me.”

  “I was on my way to see Carl Dexter,” Maria said. “I saw you coming out of his office.”

  “Oh, no!” She gasped and covered her mouth. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you all that. Now you’ll never hire us.”

  Maria smiled despite everything that was on her mind. “I’m not a client. I’m in the same business as you are. I was hoping Carl could give me some advice on a case while I’m in town.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re a private investigator?”

  “All the way from the great state of Kentucky,” Maria said. “My name’s Maria DiMarco.”

  “I’m Kayla Fryburger.” She made a face. “It’s an awful name, isn’t it? Kids used to tease me about it, growing up. For a while I was even a vegetarian.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Maria said.

  “Listen to me. You don’t want to hear about my name. You want to know about Uncle Carl. Sorry to tell you this, but he’s in Chicago until after Christmas.”

  Maria felt herself deflate, like a balloon with a slow leak. Now what? She’d been under the impression Carl ran a one-man show like she did, but she should have put two and two together.

  “I don’t normally tell people I’m Carl’s niece...” Kayla paused. “He left me in charge while he’s gone. He must have thought I wouldn’t have anything to do. Wouldn’t you know it? I’ve got a case.”

  “Good for you,” Maria said.

  “It would seem so, right?” Kayla said. “Too bad I’m not real sure how to proceed. I was going to call Uncle Carl for advice, but if I don’t find a way to impress him it’ll be curtains for me. He took me on for eight weeks on a trial basis. Six of them are already up.”

  A picture of an inexperienced investigator who was in over her head was starting to crystallize.

  “You’ll be fine if you use common sense and work on being patient and disciplined,” Maria said. “The best trait is being a good listener.”

  “That’s great advice.” Kayla touched Maria’s upper arm, her eyes shining. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can help you. In exchange, you can give me some guidance.”

  Under normal circumstances, Maria would be sympathetic. She couldn’t lose sight of her goal, though, and that was finding out whether her brother was in Key West.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t see how something like that would work.”

  Kayla’s expressive face fell. “Oh, well. It was worth a shot. I know I’m not real good at being a P.I. yet but I think I can get there. And I’d do just about anything to avoid making bottle art.”

  “Bottle art,” Maria repeated. “What’s that?”

  “My mom and I recycle glass bottles into various products. Wind chimes. Glassware. Jewelry.” A tired look came over her face. “Mom’s a Key West institution. I can’t remember her not doing it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Maria said, an idea starting to form. “How long have you lived in Key West?”

  “All my life.” She put up a hand. “Don’t say that couldn’t have been very long. I know I don’t look it, but I’m twenty-five. I’ve been out of high school for a very long time.”

  Maria didn’t have time to puzzle over why Kayla felt it necessary to mention her high school years were behind her.

  “This could work, after all. I think my brother might be living in Key West under an assumed name. I need a list of local hotspots and local contacts who might know people who are trying to keep a low profile.”

  Kayla clapped her hands and awarded Maria with a toothy grin. “I can help you with that. And you can give me advice on how to catch whoever’s messing with Santa Claus.”

  Intriguing. Maria’s stomach growled, reminding her she’d skipped breakfast. She tried not to think about where Logan Collier would eat his lonely lunch.

  “Is there somewhere around here we can grab a bite to eat?” Maria asked. “Seems to me, briefing each other will take a while.”

  * * *

  LOGAN HELD HIS CELL PHONE to his ear. Cool liquid from the bottled water he’d bought at the Blue Tropics hotel gift shop slid down
his throat as he took heat from his boss.

  “What do you mean, you might not be back this weekend? I need you here, Logan.” Harvey Stein, office manager for the Pride Financial Group, had a quintessential type A personality. He talked with a staccato beat and walked with quick, light steps. He often said he needed to move fast so the competition wouldn’t catch him. “We’re having that holiday party on Christmas Eve at the Starlight Roof in the Waldorf Astoria, and you told me you’re booked for dinners with clients up until then.”

  Harvey had all but mandated that his employees go heavy on the wining and dining. He believed money spent splurging on clients over the holidays came back double during the rest of the year.

  “Sorry, Harvey,” Logan said. “I’ve got personal business I need to attend to.”

  Too bad Logan’s personal business had ditched him a few hours ago. He’d waited in the coffee shop with their drinks for a good ten minutes before it occurred to him Maria wasn’t in the restroom.

  Now he was parked in an armchair in the lobby of the Blue Tropics, the better to intercept her when she inevitably returned to the hotel.

  “You never miss work because of personal stuff,” Harvey said. “What is it? A matter of life or death?”

  In a way it was. Maria thought her brother might be alive while Logan was certain Mike was dead.

  “It’s not like you to let me down,” Harvey continued. “Now would be the worst possible time to start disappointing me if you want my job.”

  Logan had been mulling over how much to tell his boss about what was going on. His mind switched gears. “What do you mean by that? You’re not thinking of retiring, are you?”

  “I’m considering it. I’m sixty-nine years old, after all. I can’t run the show forever.”

  Three giggling young teens picked the worst possible moment to walk by, talking so loudly Logan had to strain to hear Harvey.

  “Where are you?” his boss asked.

  Logan turned the phone away just as one of the girls declared how she really wanted to “you know, like, visit the Hemingway House and then see if we can get served drinks at Sloppy Joe’s.” Telling Harvey he was in Key West would not be a wise move.

  “Sorry,” Logan said. “I’m beside a TV.”

  There was a television in the lobby. At the moment, however, it was switched off.

  “As I was saying, you need to be on your toes if you want me to recommend you to take my place,” Harvey advised. “You do want to, right?”

  It was the next logical step. Logan had moved steadily up the ladder since joining the firm, building the stable career he’d envisioned when he went to college for a business degree.

  Maria entered the lobby just then, reminding him that the future he’d pictured had included her. She didn’t look her best. Her black hair was starting to fall out of her ponytail and her sundress was wrinkled. Even at her worst, though, Maria was beautiful.

  “Logan?” Harvey said. “Why aren’t you answering? You do want the job, right?”

  “Absolutely,” he declared.

  “Then get back here ASAP. This weekend at the latest. Can you do that?”

  Logan hadn’t gotten as far as he had without telling his boss what he wanted to hear. “I can do that.”

  “Good.” Harvey rang off at the same moment Maria spotted Logan. Her shoulders squared and her chin lifted. It didn’t look as if she’d be apologizing for ditching Logan.

  “Hey, Maria.” He indicated the armchair next to him. “Have a seat. Fill me in on what’s happened since I last saw you.”

  She dropped her hands on her hips. They were curvy, the way a woman’s hips should be.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re spying for Annalise now.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That was my sister on the phone, wasn’t it?” she demanded.

  “Actually, it was my boss,” Logan said. “I called to let him know I was delayed.”

  Her shoulders seemed to relax. “I bet he wasn’t happy about that.”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “So did you tell him you’d be back as soon as you could?” She crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him intently. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “My job’s important to me,” he said.

  “I know it is.” Her words were matter-of-fact; her tone was flippant. “So go back to New York. I won’t stop you.”

  She was as impossible as she’d always been—and as complicated. The hard exterior she presented hid a marshmallow center, a trait she’d shared with her brother Mike. Logan couldn’t tell whether she really didn’t want him around or if she was using the tough talk as a defense mechanism.

  “I’m here at least until tomorrow,” Logan said. “Let me help you, Maria.”

  Her mouth worked but no words emerged. It was as though she wasn’t sure what to say, as though she wanted him to stay but couldn’t bring herself to say so.

  He patted the armchair again. “C’mon. Sit with me awhile.”

  “I don’t owe you anything, Logan,” she said. “Yeah, you were a help back at the post office. I’ll admit that. But I didn’t ask you to come here.”

  “You’d feel less guilty if you sat down and told me what you’ve been up to,” he said.

  She sank into the chair. “What makes you think I feel guilty?”

  “I got you to sit down, didn’t I?” he asked.

  “Okay, so I do feel a little guilty,” she admitted, throwing up her hands. “You want to know what I’ve been up to? I’ll tell you. Then you’ll understand why you’re not needed.”

  She spent the next ten minutes telling him about a Santa Claus statue that kept getting defaced and her deal to mentor an apprentice private eye in return for information. She had a list of local hangouts, contact information for some longtime Key West residents and a suggestion to go to the nightly sunset celebration at the Mallory Square dock.

  “I can usually do a lot of investigative work online but not with this case,” she said. “The only way to find out if Mike is in Key West is to physically go out and talk to people.”

  “All the more reason to keep me around,” Logan said. “We can cover more ground if we work together.”

  “I don’t understand,” Maria said. “You haven’t seen me in years. Why is it so important for you to help me?”

  A good question. He wasn’t completely sure of his reasons. Guilt had something to do with it, but so did the thought of leaving Maria alone in Key West so close to Christmas.

  “Does it matter?” he asked. “Can’t you just accept my help?”

  “What if I refuse?”

  “It won’t do any good,” Logan said. “I’ll follow you around town. I’m better at it now. I got some experience this morning.”

  “I don’t want—”

  His phone rang, cutting off what she was about to say. He picked up his cell and looked down at the caller display. “It’s a Key West exchange,” he told Maria.

  “Answer it,” she said, scooting forward in her seat. “It could be that woman from the post office.”

  That was exactly who it was. Logan silently mouthed as much, then, nodding at regular intervals, listened intently to what the postal clerk had to say. He could feel impatience rolling off Maria in waves.

  “Well? What did she tell you?” Maria asked the instant he disconnected the call. “Did somebody recognize the photo?”

  Logan considered how to answer wi
thout getting her hopes up too high. Not for a minute did he believe this lead would pan out. “Possibly.”

  “What do you mean, possibly?” she retorted. “Somebody either recognized Mike or they didn’t.”

  “Hold on a minute and let me explain.” Logan chose his words carefully. “Somebody at the post office thinks the age progression looks like a guy who’s a regular at a bar on Duval Street. The guy’s there at least a few nights a week.”

  “Which bar?” Maria asked.

  Logan wouldn’t normally withhold information to get his way. These, however, were special circumstances.

  “I’ll tell you tonight,” he said, “when we go there together.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU still won’t tell me the name of the bar,” Maria groused.

  She and Logan were in the heart of the tourist area. The tiny white lights that decorated many of the businesses were only starting to glow. If Logan hadn’t gotten the tip, she would have spent the evening touring the local bars Kayla had told her about.

  Late this afternoon she and Logan had stopped by a coffee shop, a barbershop and a diner. Nobody had recognized Mike. They’d intended to go to the sunset celebration but had run out of time.

  “I’ve got a steep learning curve,” Logan said. “You gave me the slip once. You might do it again.”

  “This time you’d know where I was going,” she replied.

  He slanted her a grin. “Still, I’m not taking any chances.”

  A quartet of twenty-somethings in shorts and Key West T-shirts passed by, each carrying a plastic cup filled with what was probably alcohol, legal on the island. Behind them a small, elderly man dressed as an elf pushed a shopping cart made up to look like a sleigh.

  “Santa’s helper coming through,” he called in a high, nasal voice.

  Logan edged closer to Maria, taking her arm and shielding her from the crush. Even though being on Duval Street was an assault to the senses, she could pick out his clean scent. The hairs on her arm stood at attention. Her stomach tightened.