“No, but old Lenny Dimov is going after it with a golf club. Probably drunk.”
“No, he quit drinking. That’s why he’s been chowing down the chocolate chips. Go easy on him, Maya. He has mental issues.”
“I know that.” Maya shot him an irritated frown, her smooth brown forehead wrinkling. “But I didn’t know he’d quit drinking, so thanks.”
She quickly fired off a text, then blew out a breath.
“Okay, here’s the plan. See that police cruiser up there?” She pointed up to the road at her rig. “Consider that your chauffeured limousine. I just called in Sergeant Hollister on his day off. He’s about two minutes away. I’ll borrow his car, and he’ll drive you in the cruiser. Are you guys staying at Toni’s tonight?”
Tristan and Lulu nodded.
“Good. I’ll meet you there. Don’t worry, I’ll be outside in the cruiser. Go straight from here to Toni’s. No extra stops. Except…” She glanced down at Raul. “Trixie’s giving away free ice cream cones—locals only. She’s trying to drum up votes. But she might make an exception for you, Raul.”
The kid brightened at the mention of ice cream. The poor boy had a smudge of dirt on his forehead and what might be fish guts in his hair, but he still held himself like a prince. “Can we go, Capitán?”
Lulu rolled her eyes at the way Raul looked to Tristan as his authority figure, even though she was the one who’d helped him escape the cruise ship. Either sexism was alive and well in Colombia—a good bet—or Tristan just had that leadership quality—also a good bet.
All credit to him, Tristan gestured to Lulu to make that call.
“Sure, ice cream sounds wonderful. Assuming Trixie isn’t still furious with you, Tristan.”
“Oh, she’s furious, all right.” Maya laughed. “One stop only. Ice cream. Sergeant Hollister will meet you in Trixie’s shop. Then get in the cruiser and go directly to Toni’s. I’ll meet you there. Understood?”
After everyone nodded their understanding, she hurried up the ramp to the boardwalk. Following more slowly, Lulu steered Raul up the ramp, with Tristan close behind. She could sense his watchfulness as they reached the boardwalk, which was crowded with quaint shops and jumbled walkways.
Some of the buildings were little more than shingled shacks with bright hand-painted signs advertising native artwork or slices of pizza. Seagulls hunted overhead, and limp, frostbitten flowers drooped from barrel planters. The boardwalk had a ramshackle quality, as if every winter a roof blew off or a planter got rolled over.
Wedged between Wild North Kayaks and a rack of bicycles for rent, they found Trixie’s ice cream shop—Soul Satisfaction. Painted in dreamy swirls of ivory and palest orange, even the exterior made Lulu’s mouth water. The hand-carved sign depicted a sea otter floating on the ocean, with a backdrop of glaciers and mountains, with a double-scoop cone resting on its belly.
Adorable. She wanted to move into that sign and live there.
“You’d better go first,” Tristan murmured. “If she sees me she might haul out her Reddi-whip.”
“Reddi-whip?” Was Trixie some kind of lion tamer, or maybe a dominatrix?
“Whipped cream. It’s her go-to weapon of choice, though she’s also been known to fling a cherry or two if she’s really mad.”
“Oh, you mean squirty cream. The stuff in a can?”
“Squirty cream?”
On that astonished note, Tristan pushed open the door. Trixie sat on a stool behind the ice cream display, a pink neon ice cream cone lighting up the wall behind her.
“Hello, worst campaign manager ever,” she said when she caught sight of Lulu.
“That’s fair,” agreed Lulu. “How’s the campaign going?”
“Shitty. All the fishermen are going for the rooster just to piss everyone off. Did someone say ‘squirty cream?’ That sounds like something I should know about.”
“It’s British for Reddi-wip,” Lulu explained.
“Are you sure? Because to me it sounds—” She changed gears as she caught sight of Raul. “Who’s this now?” She smiled at the boy.
“This is someone who could really use an ice cream.” Lulu didn’t want to share his name, just in case.
“Coming up. What looks good to you, kiddo?” Raul peered into the glass display case of flavors with their handwritten descriptions. “I just came up with a new flavor. Tristan the Traitor. It has black licorice for betrayal.”
Tristan closed the door, taking a moment to make sure no one suspicious was right behind them. “Jesus, Trixie. Feels like you weren’t this mad when I was running against you.”
“That’s true.”
Trixie hopped off the stool and came around the counter. She wore red platform boots that gave her an extra five inches of height. Her hair was twisted on top of her head, with a jaunty feather stuck in the pile. And she held a can of Reddi-wip. Lulu edged closer to Tristan in case he needed protection from his furious former competitor.
“But you have no idea why I’m mad, do you?”
“Because I endorsed Malcolm? It wasn’t personal, Trix. I just think it’s time for the native community to take a leadership role.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Malcolm and I are looking into some kind of coalition. We agree on most things, and maybe together we can beat Cockles the Rooster.”
Lulu folded her lips to hold back the laughter that threatened every time someone mentioned that rooster.
“That’s not why I’m mad,” Trixie said steadily. “I’m mad because you’re selling yourself short. Tell him, Lulu. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
“To me?” Lulu’s eyes rounded. “Why would he listen to me?”
“That British accent of yours. It’s so sexy and authoritative.”
Lulu laughed, deciding that she liked Trixie—a lot.
Just then, Raul announced that he’d chosen his flavors—a scoop of Frosty Fudge and one of Midnight Delight. Trixie scooped his cone for him, and waved off Tristan’s attempt at payment.
Sergeant Hollister arrived a moment later. He looked a little like Santa, with a fringe of white beard. He shepherded them all out of the shop, toward the police cruiser, paying extra attention to Raul.
Lulu lagged a bit behind with Tristan.
“I like Trixie,” she told him. “Is she your ex-girlfriend?”
“Definitely not.” Tristan’s fine mouth curved in a piratical smile. “We’re friends, and a little more than that a couple times. But only in times of extreme crisis. After my divorce, for instance. We decided anything more would be a disaster. Trixie’s a handful.”
“What was she on about?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her,” he said vaguely.
“She gave you quite a bollocking. I’m surprised she didn’t unleash the squirty cream on you.”
Tristan nearly choked on a snort of laughter. “Please stop saying that. A guy can only take so much.”
Twenty-Two
The nice police sergeant drove them to Toni and Bash’s house, where he and Tristan did a thorough search while Raul and Lulu stayed in the vehicle. Lulu gazed at the house in wonder. It was a fairytale cottage with a steep shingled roof, surrounded by wild roses and towering delphiniums at the end of their season. The place felt so secure, as if a fairy godmother had cast an enchantment over it.