Second Honeymoons Can Be Murder (A Baby Boomer Mystery Book 6) Read online

  “Mike, I’d like you to meet my old grammar school chum, Charlie King.”

  “This is a real pleasure, Mike,” Charlie said. “I’d like to say I’ve heard a lot about you from your parents, but since your mother and I just reconnected a few days ago, that’s not exactly true. But I’m looking forward to getting to know you better while we’re all in Florida. I hope you’re planning on staying here on the Gulf Coast while we’re filming the show.” He turned to his right. “And this lovely young lady is my daughter, my only child, Carol Ann.”

  “It’s Carrie now, remember, Dad?” Carrie said with a smile to show that she wasn’t really angry.

  Mike took Carrie’s hand. “I had planned on heading back to Miami tonight. But I may change my mind.” He had a goofy look on his face. You know the kind I mean, right? That “I’ve never seen anyone so gorgeous before and I think I’m in love” look.

  “I’m looking forward to learning all about what happens behind the scenes on a television show from you, Carrie,” Mike said. “And anything else you care to share with me.”

  Carrie dimpled, and I looked at the girl more closely. Mike was right. When she wasn’t carrying a huge chip on her shoulder, and arguing with her father, Carrie was a real beauty. Mike was clearly attracted to her, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Sizzle City, to coin a phrase.

  I wondered if our family had room for another Carol Ann.

  Chapter 24

  Inside every old person is a young person wondering what the heck happened.

  “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my whole life,” I said to Jim. “Just look at all these flowers. And in the middle of the winter! Up north, you’d be outside right now trying to get the snow blower going. Are we lucky or what?”

  “I assume that was a rhetorical question,” Jim replied with a smile. “But, you’re right. We’re pretty lucky.”

  “And look at all the palm trees everywhere,” I said. “I wonder what Lucy and Ethel will make of all this new vegetation to explore.”

  “I’m sure they’ll adjust just fine,” Jim said. “Don’t worry about everything so much.”

  Trust Jim to make me feel defensive about what really was an innocent remark. But, taking a page from the Jim Andrews School of Selective Hearing, I pretended I hadn’t heard a word he said.

  “I hope you’ll give me a chance to drive this car,” I said. “I’ve never been in a Mercedes before, and I’ve always dreamed about one.”

  “Then sit back and enjoy the ride,” Jim said, hinting that perhaps my turn at the wheel would be a long time coming.

  “If you plan on doing all the driving while we’re here,” I said with just a touch of annoyance, “be sure you don’t lose the car keys. You know how you’re always misplacing them at home.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Carol,” Jim said. “Charlie has the same problem with keys as I do, so Carrie figured out a way so that all the Mercedes can use the same key. She also had extra ones made, as a precaution. If one is lost, there’ll always be a spare. Charlie told me she’s a wiz at electronics.”

  “What a great idea. I bet she could make a fortune marketing her idea to all the wives in America.” I laughed, to show my husband that I was only kidding.

  “Charlie sure knows how to travel first-class,” I continued. “First a private jet, then our own Mercedes. This is living. I never thought when we were in grammar school together that he’d be such a success. Just imagine. He has a fleet of four white Mercedes at his disposal, and we get to use one of them.” I sighed in contentment.

  “I bet they’re all leased,” Jim said, pouring a little cold water on me, figuratively speaking. “He probably charges them off as a business expense.” Hmm. It sounded like my husband was just a teensy bit jealous.

  “I don’t care about that,” I said. “A Mercedes by any means—leased or owned—is still a Mercedes. But I wish that Mike had come in our car. I wanted a chance to talk to him in private.”

  “You mean, grill him, don’t you? Interrogate him about his life, especially, his love life?” When I didn’t respond, especially since Jim was absolutely right, darn him, he added, “Mike seemed to be pretty taken with Carrie King. No wonder he jumped at the chance to ride with her instead of with his old fogey parents.”

  Cue selective hearing, Carol. Enjoy the beautiful scenery. And change the subject.

  “Are you sure you know where we’re going?” I asked my too-often directionally challenged husband. You know the story about men and asking for directions, so I don’t need to remind you. Maybe you live with one of those, too.

  “The directions were already programmed into the car’s GPS,” Jim replied. “I double checked before we left the airport. Charlie told me he had Carrie do that for all the cars, so nobody would get lost.”

  Jim gave me a sideways glance, which was safe since we were stopped at a traffic light. “Promise me you’ll go easy on Mike, Carol. Don’t fuss over him like he’s still a child.”

  “All right, already. I promise,” I said. “Ease up on me, okay? Mothers have the right to fuss over and worry about their children, no matter how old the children are. It’s our reward for the hours of excruciating labor we go through to bring them into the world. Not that you’d know anything about that. You guys have it so easy.”

  I whipped out my phone. “Speaking of our children, I should text Jenny and tell her that we’ve gotten here safely. And find out how Mark is doing.”

  “I already did that,” Jim said. “All is well.”

  Now I was really fuming. Still another example of Jim’s usurping what should have been my job. I should have been the one to text Jenny first. I know. I know. Once again, I was being childish. But instead of snapping back at my husband, the way I wanted to, I put my head back and closed my eyes. I must have nodded off, because the next thing I remember, Jim was shaking me awake.

  “Carol, wake up. We’re here.”

  “I wasn’t asleep, Jim,” I lied. “I was closing my eyes because the sun is so bright.”

  A tasteful sign surrounded by palm trees and beautiful hibiscus welcomed us to the Honeymoon Island Resort. “I still can’t believe it,” I said to Jim, admiring the majestic pink stucco structure that would be our home base for our entire Florida stay. “We’re here during one of the worst winters New England has seen in years. Pinch me to be sure I’m not dreaming.”

  Jim rolled to a stop in front of the main entrance to the hotel. In a flash, a staff member appeared to greet us, wearing a navy polo shirt emblazoned with the Honeymoon Island Resort logo, and khaki shorts that showed off tanned, muscular legs. Not that I paid much attention. Nor did I concentrate on his handsome face and eyes the color of melted chocolate. Not me.

  Flashing a brilliant smile, he opened my door with a flourish and offered me his arm to help me out of the Mercedes. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bernardo, and I’ll be your personal concierge during your stay with us. Anything you want, just ask.” He gave me a wink, which I ignored. Honestly, I was old enough to be this man’s…aunt.

  “Although I appreciate the welcome,” Jim said, “we won’t need the services of a concierge. My wife and I are here on business. We’re part of the team for a television show.”

  “I know,” said Bernardo. “The Second Honeymoon Game, correct? You are with Charles King. He has reserved one of our best villas for your stay. If you remain here for just a moment, I’ll return with a golf cart to drive you there. It’s walking distance from the main building, but with the luggage, riding would be much simpler. In the meantime, please enjoy the scenery.” He pointed in the direction of a magnificent beach with the whitest sand and the bluest water I’d ever seen.

  I remember thinking at that moment that Jim and I were the closest to paradise we’d ever be while we were still on this earth, and felt pure joy and peace, looking out at that magnificent view.

  Too bad I forgot about what hap
pened to the first couple who visited paradise, Adam and Eve.

  Chapter 25

  My wife and I had words last night. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to use any of mine.

  “Whatever you’re doing, it sure feels wonderful,” I said to Jim. “And just look at that gorgeous sunset.” I sighed in contentment and snuggled closer to my husband. “Here we are on a beach in Florida, it’s after six o’clock at night, and the sun is just going down. In Connecticut, it would be dark already. And freezing cold.”

  It was our first night in Florida, and after settling into our luxurious villa, and a quick check with Charlie King to be sure there was no television show meeting until the following morning, Jim and I had decided to take a bottle of wine and two glasses to the beach.

  OMG. The ramifications of what I’d just said rolled over me like a wave from the Gulf of Mexico. If the sun hadn’t set, that meant we were visible to anyone strolling along the beach. I pulled myself away from my husband’s amorous embrace and swatted him. “Stop that. Somebody might see us.”

  Jim rolled over on his side and gave me a “Look.” “Carol, for heaven’s sake. Even though we’re down here for the television show, we’re also on our own second honeymoon. And I hope you remember what we did on our first honeymoon. It was a lot more than what we’re doing now.”

  I sat up and brushed the sand off my bathing suit. Truth to tell, it fit a little tighter than it did when I tried it on at Suits R Us in Fairport, Connecticut, a few months ago. But I hope you won’t tell anyone I admitted that.

  Fortunately, from the way he was acting, Jim hadn’t. And I intended to keep it that way. “I remember,” I said with a smile to my husband of thirty-plus years. “But that was in the privacy of our hotel room, not in a public place.”

  I frowned. “I don’t feel right about leaving Lucy and Ethel alone in the villa on our first night here. I hope they don’t bark and disturb the neighbors. And we really should check on Mike. I wonder if he’s planning on going back to Miami tonight.”

  “For heaven’s sake, stop worrying about every little thing,” Jim said with more than a trace of impatience. “I’m sure the dogs are fine. I asked Bernardo to check on them while we were out. And you promised to stay out of Mike’s private life, remember?”

  I nodded. Without enthusiasm. But I did make the effort.

  “Why don’t we go for a short walk?” I suggested, trying to get myself more into the vacation spirit. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some exercise after that plane ride. And if we walk, we won’t feel guilty about ordering dessert tonight.”

  Jim rolled over and got to his feet. With some difficulty, which I pretended not to notice.

  “Why don’t we walk that way?” I said, indicating a route that was in the direction of Honeymoon Island’s rear parking lot. “It looks pretty level, and if one of us gets tired, we’re close to the car.”

  I squinted, then said, “Wait a minute, Jim. Do you see something bright? And what’s that smell? Is something burning?”

  The next thing I heard was a loud whoosh. I’d never heard anything like it before.

  Jim grabbed me. “Get down, Carol,” he said, pushing me into the sand. “Our car’s on fire. If the flames hit the gas tank, it’ll explode.”

  There was a loud noise, then silence. I was lying face down in the sand, Jim on top of me. I opened my mouth to scream, but all that did was fill my mouth with sand. Ugh.

  I could feel Jim shaking. He was just as frightened as I was, although, being a guy, he’d never admit it. “Are you okay, honey?” he asked. “I hope I didn’t hurt you when I tackled you. I just wanted to protect you.” Jim rolled over and got to his feet, offering me his hand to help me up.

  I was trembling so hard that I probably lost five pounds from the exertion. I never thought of mindless terror as a weight-loss method before.

  “What if we’d been in the car, Jim?” I said, sobbing. “We’d be dead by now. How could something like that happen?”

  “It must have been a fluke,” Jim said. “Some terrible mechanical failure. We need to contact the authorities right away, and Charlie, of course. He needs to know about this, so all the other cars in the fleet can be checked immediately. Oh, damn.”

  “What?”

  “I left my phone in our room. There aren’t any pockets in my bathing suit.”

  For some reason, that struck me as extremely funny. I guess I was bordering on hysteria by then. I couldn’t stop laughing. A close encounter with death can do that to a person. You’ll just have to take my word for that. I don’t recommend you try it for yourself.

  I cocked an ear and heard sirens in the distance. Help was on the way, thank God.

  Two official-looking cars careened into the parking lot, almost hitting each other in their rush to get to the scene of the burning Mercedes. One was a ranger from the park’s environmental police force; the other was from the county sheriff’s department.

  Jim and I hung back and let the officers do their job. Truth to tell, they hadn’t even noticed us. I couldn’t help but overhear that there seemed to be some difference of opinion as to which authority had jurisdiction in this situation.

  “There’s someone trapped inside the car!” I heard a deputy scream into his phone. “Get an emergency vehicle here right away!”

  Chapter 26

  I am the soul of discretion. Unfortunately, my mouth never follows suit.

  I clung to my husband, and whispered, “Jim, did you hear that? There’s someone trapped in the car. Oh, my God. It must be someone from the television show.”

  Jim disagreed, of course. “I’m sure it’s nobody we know,” he said. “I’m betting somebody saw the Mercedes in the parking lot and tried to steal it. These things happen all the time. And then, well…boom.”

  I swayed in the general direction of the ground, and moaned, “I think I’m going to be sick to my stomach.” I promptly fainted. Right there in the parking lot. At least, that’s what Jim told me later.

  The next thing I remember was a light shining in my eyes, and a disembodied voice saying, “Ma’am, are you all right? Can you sit up?”

  Man, how embarrassing. I now had the full attention of the park ranger who, having been summarily dismissed by the county sheriff personnel, had discovered me sprawled near the edge of the parking lot, my husband hovering above me.

  “I’m all right,” I said, pulling myself to a sitting position with some effort. “But this has been such a terrible shock. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I said, waving in the general direction of the burning car. “It’s horrible.”

  “Can you tell me what you’re still doing here?” the ranger asked. “The park closes at dusk.”

  Jim took over the conversation, as he inevitably does. “We’re staying at the Honeymoon Island Resort,” he said. “It’s our first night in Florida, and we decided to check out the beach. We didn’t notice the sign that listed the park hours. The gate was open when we arrived, and nobody stopped us.”

  The ranger scribbled in his notebook, then asked for identification. Well, of course, both Jim and I were in our swim togs and weren’t able to produce any.

  More embarrassment.

  Our interrogation was interrupted by the arrival of a fire truck and several more vehicles bearing the logo of the county sheriff’s department, followed by an ambulance.

  I burrowed my head in Jim’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can stand to watch this,” I said, as several more deputies raced toward the burning vehicle. “Is it true that someone is in the car? Are they going to try and save him?”

  The ranger immediately pounced on my choice of pronouns. “How do you know it’s a man in there?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, bristling at his accusatory tone. “Should I have said, ‘Are they going to try to save him or her?’ That sounds ridiculous under the circumstances.”

  My attention was drawn to another sheriff’s deputy who was barking orders at all the other p
ersonnel on the scene. “Our first priority is to put out the fire, and then extricate the victim. Get to it. Immediately. We don’t have all night to do this.” Then the deputy caught sight of Jim, the park ranger, and me, and headed straight to us.

  “Armstrong, Investigative Operations Bureau, County Sheriff’s Office,” the deputy said, flipping a badge so fast that I couldn’t read it. “Who are you and what are you doing here? The park closes at sunset. You’re trespassing. Show me some identification. Right now.”

  His high-and-mighty attitude really ticked me off. I’ve had lots of practice with law enforcement officials since Jim’s retirement, and realized immediately that this pipsqueak was trying to intimidate us. Well, he wasn’t going to get away with it.

  Before I could respond, Jim did. “I’m Jim Andrews. My wife, Carol, and I are visiting here from Connecticut. We’re staying at the Honeymoon Island Resort. We never thought to bring identification with us when we came to the beach. It’s in our villa back at the Honeymoon Island Resort.”

  The deputy frowned and looked hard at Jim and me. “Where in Connecticut?”

  “Fairport,” I said. “It’s just outside of New York City.”

  “I know exactly where it is,” the deputy said. “I have a cousin who lives there. He’s a detective on the local police force.”

  “What a coincidence,” Jim said, smiling nervously. “Our son-in-law is a detective on the police force, too. His name’s Mark Anderson.”

  I dug my fingers into Jim’s arm to shut him up. But, of course, he didn’t take the hint. In fact, he didn’t have a clue where this conversation could end up. But I did. Now I knew why this twerp had ticked me off so quickly. I was pretty sure I was speaking to the cousin of Paul Wheeler.

  Fortunately, Mark’s name meant nothing to the officer. He didn’t react at all. But I knew that he’d do a background check on us with the Fairport Police, and then he’d find out all about how I had “helped” them in some recent cases. And, unfortunately, the rocky relationship between Cousin Paul and me. Which was certainly putting it mildly. But maybe, since I had become Paul’s confidante a few days ago because of his guilt over Mark’s accident, he might not be so harsh in his comments about me.