Chapter 7

Esther’s heart began to pound as the officer drew closer. She looked to Nina, terror gripping her throat. “What are we going to do?” she whisper-yelled as her glittering aqua fins flapped in the chilly wind and she froze on the spot.

“Stay calm, Esther. I’ll handle this,” Tucker assured her with a confident smile and a squeeze to her hand, pulling his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He held it up and pointed it at her, pressing a button. “That’s it, Esther, just like that. You’re beautiful, babe! Now, give me your best look of fear, as though someone’s just exposed you as a mermaid after you washed ashore during a terrifying hurricane.” He reached down and pulled the blanket from her tail to expose her, snapping pictures on his phone one after the other. “You’re lost, alone, afraid! C’mon, baby, work that lens!”

Nina sent her a message with her eyes that said play along—or at least she was pretty sure it said play along. Maybe it said shut the fuck up, but she knew she had to get it together enough to make the officer believe she was pretending to be a mermaid for some crazy modeling shoot, and Tucker was her photographer.

So, she looked into the phone Tuck held up and grabbed her throat, mimicking a clutch-your-pearls moment, as though she were in grave danger, which duh. She was in grave danger—of being discovered. It wasn’t much of a stretch, but she was going to work that camera if it was the last thing she did, like her life depended on it.

“Gorgeous, Esther!” Tucker encouraged, yelling the words in an over-expressive tone, thickening his accent. “Can you hang on a sec, officer? I don’t want to miss this shot. It’s too good. The sky is perfect, wouldn’t you say, mate? Now, give me coy, Esther. C’mon, kitten, I know you have some vixen in you.”

When the officer finally reached them, out of breath and red-faced, he held up his badge. “Are you Esther Williams Sanchez?” he wheezed, his jowls shaking when he spoke.

Esther turned her chin into her shoulder and gave Tucker a seductive but shy smile. “I am Esther Williams Sanchez, officer, but I’m a lil’ busy right now, as you can see. I’m trying to earn a living. Can we talk at another time?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the officer look at a small notepad. “Actually, it’s Detective Johns. And it says here you’re supposed to be a divorce mediator, not a model.”

Esther flapped her hand at him and giggled like a giddy schoolgirl. Nina frowned at her over-exaggerated laughter and ran a finger across her slender throat, but Esther ignored her warning and plowed ahead. “If only that paid the bills. I model part time for extra money, Detective. Oyster Hollow’s not cheap, you know. A girl’s gotta make a living somehow. It was either this or the stripper pole, and I’m an epic fail at bikini waxes and keeping rhythm to ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me,’ so…”

As the wind lifted the hem of his wrinkled dark blue suit coat, he stared down at her tail. His tiny eyes, buried deep in his doughy face, registered surprise. “That looks so real,” he said in awe as it sparkled even under the clouds.

“Damn right it does, buddy. I made it myself. Nina’s the name. Costuming’s my game. Sewed those damn yellow and turquoise scales on one by one. Show ’em your fins, Esther. Show ’em how they fuckin’ flap.”

Esther lifted her hips and waved her fins at the Detective, who backed away for a moment and shook his head. “How…?”

If only she could tell him how much she could relate.

Nina nudged him with an elbow and tipped her glasses back up on her nose, leaning into him as though she had a secret. “It’s rigged. But I can’t tell you how or I’d reveal all my magic.”

Detective Johns blustered and gave her a curt nod. “Of course. Listen, Miss Sanchez, I need to speak to you about your Uncle, Gomez Sanchez. Can you give me a minute of your time?”

But Nina saved the day again, linking her arm with his. “C’mon up to the house and we’ll get you something warm to drink while they finish up. Shouldn’t be long now. The whole crew’s inside. They’ll hook you up,” she said in the pleasantest tone Esther had heard her use since she’d met her.

“I’ll be right there, Officer Johns!” Esther called out, winking at him as she turned her fact back to Tucker.

When they were far enough away up the beach, she looked at Tucker, her panic returning. “Good thinking. But now what?”

Tucker draped the blanket back around her again, sitting on his haunches. “Now we get you to relax. Just breathe and let your fear go. Your legs returned last night, there’s no reason they won’t today. I promise you.” As he spoke, his voice hushed and reassuring, he rubbed small circles on her back with the palm of his hand, and she found herself relaxing.

She also found herself some other things, too, but she was trying like hell to keep her thoughts focused on getting her legs back so she could find out what this detective wanted.

“What do you suppose the detective wants? I didn’t even know my uncle.”

“You said that last night.”

She turned to look at him. “Well, it’s true. I don’t really know him at all. He never visited my grandfather here at the cottage. Grandpa always went to see him in the city—so did my father. My dad told me little children overwhelmed him, which was I guess a nice way of saying he wasn’t too interested in his brother’s only child. I tried reaching out to him after my grandfather’s funeral, but he never returned my calls. I don’t even know where he lived other than in the city somewhere.”

“Your parents are gone?” he asked, continuing to smooth his palm over her back.

“Yes,” she managed without even a hitch in her voice, looking down at her fingers before clenching her eyes shut. She shook off the mention of them. “You do know how they say my uncle died, don’t you?”

His palm stopped moving over her spine when he looked at her with somber eyes, the gold flecks in them deepening. Jeez, he was hot. “I do, Esther. It’s why I came here to begin with. To ask you about his death.”

She forgot all about what he said when she felt her toes return as though shot from a cannon—they sprouted back into place like they’d never left. “Look! Oh, thank God!” she yelped, wrapping the blanket around her and struggling to stand.

Tucker helped by grabbing her around the waist with a strong arm and pulling her upward, bringing her tight to his chest when she faltered upon the awkward residual feel of her legs’ return.

Oooooh was the first thing she thought. The second was oooooh, too, but the third thing she thought wasn’t fit for polite company.

Then she brushed it off. She knew all about this kind of bonding. People in the height of a divorce did it all the time. She couldn’t count on her fingers and toes how many times parting spouses came to a mediation with guilty looks on their faces after a passionate night spent coming to terms with the end of their marriage, only to realize it had been a mistake made due to their heightened sense of fear of being alone.

Ironically, it happened most often after cheating spouses found themselves in the middle of a divorce, and it was called hysterical bonding. When a traumatic event drew two people together during stressful times.

And indeed, this was a stressful time.

Yet, as their eyes met, and Tucker smiled down at her, his luscious lips saying something she totally didn’t hear, Esther felt a tug. A sharp, distinct tug in her belly. A tightening of her chest, and the buttery soft give to her knees.

She’d felt it before. Maybe not quite this strong, but certainly similar.

And it was the last thing she wanted at this particular time in her life.

Do. Not. Want.

It was the last thing she thought before she said a quick thanks and made a stumbling run for the cottage where, if nothing else, something safer than this feeling waited.

* * * *

“So you say you didn’t know your uncle very well?”

“She said that three fucking times, dude,” Nina crowed from the corner of the living room, her face hard, her fists clenched. “Are you the best NYPD has to offer? Because you’re a few sprinkles shy of a cupcake, buddy.”

Detective Johns squirmed in his chair by the fireplace, everyone else plunked down around him to hear what he wanted to talk to Esther about. He ran a finger around his tight shirt collar, preparing to speak.

But Esther held her hand up to prevent Nina from saying anything else. She needed these women, and especially Tucker, to know she wasn’t completely helpless, and all she needed was a little support until she could get back on her feet—or fins. Whatever.

Changed into a fresh pair of yoga pants and a clean, warm sweater, she felt more in charge when she answered.

“Yes, sir. That’s what I said. I didn’t know him very well. In fact, I’ve met him three times in my life, total. My father told me he didn’t much like children, so it wasn’t like I even saw him around the holidays. But my grandfather went to see him in the city all the time.”

Detective Johns’ forehead wrinkled. “Did your grandfather ever tell you if Gomez was depressed?”

She had to think about that for a minute. Her grandparents had always been so proud of her uncle. Often, her grandfather would tell her about the important work Gomez was allegedly doing as a scientist, but he never got into specifics, and he certainly never mentioned depression.

Esther shook her head. “I can’t remember him ever saying much about my uncle, other than his work was important and he was proud of him, despite the fact that he didn’t come to visit. I grew up thinking of him curing sick children somewhere far, far away, locked in a hut, sweating over some beakers in a jungle somewhere. I know now that’s not what he did, but you have to understand, Detective Johns, he wasn’t a part of my life at all.”

Detective Johns sat forward, taking a sip of his tea as he watched her. “Yet, you went to his funeral.”

She looked back at him, unflinching. “Of course I did. Whether he was close to us or not, my grandfather loved and respected him. I went out of respect for my grandfather. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

But he didn’t answer her; he simply asked another question. “So, he never spoke to you about his depression? Never hinted he’d thought of taking his own life?”

“What about this shit don’t you get, Starsky? She said no. She told you she hadn’t talked to him. Like, what are you fishin’ for here?” Nina asked, her tone full of barely contained anger.

But Esther wanted to know the same thing. She sat forward on the cushions and asked, “Listen, what’s going on here? I was told his death was a suicide. Are you suspecting foul play? Because if this is about money or the research he’s done or whatever, I didn’t get a single penny from him, and I have no idea what he was working on. He left everything to science and his funeral was prearranged and paid for. All I did was show up.”

Detective Johns tucked his pad back into the pocket inside his wrinkled jacket. “No, ma’am. I’m just tying up loose ends.”

Loose ends? Interesting. “So you drove all the way here from the city to ask me things you could have asked me over the phone? Is this an official investigation?”

“No, it’s not, but we like to be thorough,” was all he offered before he was up and moving toward the door, his large body quicker than one would anticipate.

“Wait!” Esther said, sliding off the couch, where she sat between Tuck and Wanda, the latter of whom was dozing beneath a blanket Esther’s grandmother had crocheted. She strode toward the door. “Can you tell me what was in the emails he sent? I know it sounds macabre, but now, since you came all this way to ask me questions about something I thought was pretty cut and dried, I’d like to know why he committed suicide. How he was feeling before he…”

His eyes scanned the room for only a second before they settled on her. “I can’t reveal that information, Miss Sanchez. It’s classified.”

What an odd word to use about a suicide. Unless her scientist uncle was involved in something bigger than she was aware. “Classified? You’re an NYC detective, not some FBI agent. How can it be classified?”

Detective Johns looked over her shoulder when he said, “I meant private. I can’t show you an email he sent to other people. It’s against regulation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a long trip back to the city. Have a nice day, folks.” And with that, he popped her front door open and left.

Esther turned to face the group, each of whom had the same expression on their faces she was sure she had on hers. “Did that seem odd or is it just me?”

Nina popped her lips, setting Marsha on the ground with a scratch between her ears. “Dude, fuck yeah, it was odd. I don’t know what, but I can tell you, some shit ain’t right.”

Then Esther turned to Tuck, who sat very quietly on the couch. “You seem to have known my uncle better than I did, even if it was just through email. Care to tell me if he seemed depressed?”

Tucker rose from the couch, removing Mook from his lap and setting him next to Wanda, who was lightly snoring. As he approached, his tall frame looming over her, he said, “Actually, in all truth, I was going to ask you some of the same things the detective did, Esther. But you’ve made it clear you didn’t know Gomez well enough to know his state of mind.”

“Why were you going to ask me if he was depressed? What do you care if he was depressed? Am I missing some kind of link here? You said you’d never met and only shared work emails. I don’t know about you, but when communicating in a professional capacity, I don’t usually go deeper than common courtesies. Also, I’m pretty sure you can find someone new to test your water, can’t you? What made my uncle so special?”

Tuck looked past her and shrugged. “He’d been with us for years, we trusted him. It was so sudden.”

“But it’s like you said, he approved a test on some water that killed someone and made a bunch of other people sick. That he was depressed, and feeling responsible for someone’s life because of his tests, doesn’t make it seem so sudden. It means he had a heart, even if he didn’t show it to his family.”

Which stung a little, in light of the fact that her grandfather loved him so much.

His expression went stony. “That’s a fair assessment.”

But Esther waved her finger under his nose. “Nuh-uh. Don’t give me six syllables and call it a day. You know something, Tucker Pearson. You know something, and I want to know what it is. The fact my uncle killed himself would kill my grandfather if he were still alive. He loved Gomez, made excuses for his absence in our family all the time. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here? Because I don’t believe it has anything to do with your respect for his work as a scientist. You may well have respected his work, but because he approved some tests for your bottled water, he killed someone. That makes for bad PR, buddy. What are you after? And you’d better quit skipping around the mulberry bush about it or I’m going to lose my shit all over you!”

Nina slapped her on the back and grinned. “Proud of ya, Guppie—way to sniff out a snake. I think our work here is done, ladies. Looks like the newb’s got a handle on this all on her own.”

Esther would take pride in the compliment, coming from a woman so fierce, but she wanted answers right now. So she lifted an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

And he refused to bow down. “I think it’s best we stick to mermaid lessons for now.”

Nina set Esther behind her and jammed her face in Tucker’s. “I don’t give a shit what you think is best, Flipper. If she’s in some kind of danger, which I’m suspecting she is, because every fucking newb we’ve ever come across always is, I wanna know now. I’m not fighting paper dragons, buddy. I’m here to look out for her, just like I said I would. Now spit this shit out!”

As much as she appreciated Nina’s protection, because really, a vampire on your side can’t be a bad thing, she was no slouch when it came to sticking up for herself.

She stepped in front on Nina and gave Tucker the stink eye. “What she said.”

Tucker ran his hand through his thick hair, no worse for the wear after all that saltwater. When he finally spoke, his words chilled her to the bone.

Gripping her by the shoulders, his expression became grave. “I don’t believe your uncle committed suicide, Esther. I think someone killed him.”