“Did you hear about the murder near Caspar?” Doris asked. “Everyone’s talking about it. The woman lived in Sea Haven for a while. I think she worked at one of the hotels as a waitress. You remember, don’t you, Marie? She was a pretty thing, but hard features. Her name was Tawny Farmer.”
Seychelle stilled, a forkful of apricot scone halfway to her mouth. She put it back on her plate and reached for her phone with shaking hands. She just needed to feel Savage close to her. Tawny was dead, and she’d been left practically on the club’s doorstep.
Marie nodded. “I remember her. She actually grew up just outside of Fort Bragg. Always wanted to leave, she said, but kept coming back, even after her mother was long gone.”
“She ran with the wrong crowd,” Inez said. “There was no stopping her.” She shook her head. “There was no talking to that girl.”
“Still,” Marie said. “She didn’t deserve to be murdered and left on the highway like garbage. It was terrible what they did to her. Beaten and strangled.”
Doris nodded. “It was grisly. Beaten almost beyond recognition and then strangled.”
Seychelle could barely breathe. Her lungs burned. Grateful for the cover of semidarkness, she could only sit very still while her mind tried to process what the women were saying. Someone had killed Tawny and left her close to Torpedo Ink. Had Pierce implicated Alena? Did Savage know and he just hadn’t told her?
Did you know that Tawny was murdered and found near Caspar?
“So close to Sea Haven. Practically on our doorstep,” Anat said. “There aren’t that many miles between Sea Haven and Caspar but so many places to hide a body.” She gave a little shiver. “Still, they dumped her right on the highway, where they must have killed her.”
Just getting the news now from Czar. He sent out a mass text.
Marie and Doris said she was beaten and strangled. That lets out Alena. The cops would never buy that she could beat and strangle her.
Best not to talk about this on phones, baby.
She hadn’t thought about that. She had so much to learn. She wasn’t happy that Tawny was dead, but then she hadn’t asked very many questions about the woman. She knew that Tawny had hated Torpedo Ink, that she had some grudge against them all.
“Thankfully, there was a witness. At least, it sounded like the cops did have a lead of some kind,” Anat said. “Hopefully, they’ll solve the murder very fast.”
Inez gave a sniff. “Ha. Don’t believe everything you hear, Anat. Witnesses crawl out of the woodwork saying they saw all sorts of things, when they didn’t really see anything.”
“Do they really?” Rebecca asked. “I would think when it comes to murder, people would be afraid to talk.”
Seychelle noticed the women had no trouble eating their dessert, or downing their drinks and getting up to pour themselves more from the pitchers Doris had put out.
“Some are,” Inez conceded, “but others want their fifteen minutes of fame any way they can get it.”
“We should solve her murder,” Eden said. “We could do it. We’re all smart. We just need to get the facts and then sit around and figure it out like we do everything else.”
Seychelle was instantly alarmed, especially because, instead of the women disagreeing, they were all nodding, as if they thought Eden had had a fantastic idea.
OMG. The Red Hat ladies are going to try to solve the murder.
The talk instantly began to swirl around how they would come up with the clues. Reading reports and writing down every detail, no matter how small, from every source. Several of them knew reporters.
“Inez, you have an in with Jonas and Jackson,” Doris pointed out, referring to the sheriff and his deputy. “You could casually bring up the murder and see if they say anything.”
Inez sighed, not denying it. “It’s true, I do. I’ll do my best, but they’re both notorious for playing everything close to their chest. Sometimes it’s absolutely maddening how closed-mouth they are when I need information.”
In spite of everything, Seychelle found herself trying not to laugh at the pure exasperation in Inez’s tone and the murmurs of sympathy going around the deck.
Baby, stop worrying so much. Laughing emojis followed. Several of them. Followed by red and purple hats.
Perversely, Seychelle didn’t think it was all that funny that the women were locked in on finding a murderer. Especially Eden. She didn’t want Eden to go anywhere near the investigation. Savage thought it was funny, but every single one of the women was intelligent. They might get a lot closer than the cops—or the club—thought they could.
The evening wore on with the ladies discussing how they might get clues, some of the suggestions so absurd that Seychelle couldn’t help sharing them with Savage.
Now they plan to get Sabelia and Hannah involved, using some spell to temporarily loosen Jackson’s tongue so he’ll spill everything to Inez.
That had her laughing. The women were laughing. Savage actually came to the slider and stood looking at them all, shaking his head. He had a grin on his face.
They are drunk off their asses. Best idea yet. Want to be there for that.
How are they all going to get home? There isn’t a sober one in the bunch. Truthfully, Seychelle was a teensy bit worried about that. None of these women should be driving.
Savage came out onto the deck. His hand drifted up the back of her neck under her hair, fingers finding her scalp in a gentle massage. He tilted her head back so she was looking up at him. “I’ve got this. Already called Transporter. He’s bringing the van. We’ll get them home safely. You don’t think I’d let anything happen to Sea Haven’s finest treasures, do you?” He bent down to kiss her.
Lunch was late afternoon the following day. Seychelle was looking much better. She hadn’t once complained about the marks on her body. It was the effects of the pain pills and how sick she’d gotten from them that worried him the most. She’d been weak afterward and so pale it had scared him.
He’d never seen anyone so violently ill. She’d thrown up until there was nothing more, and then the retching continued as if her body had more to dispel but just couldn’t. She eventually needed fluids, and Steele had given them to her. All over the pain pills.
Savage hadn’t cared if Hannah saw marks on Seychelle’s body; he just wanted her better. She hadn’t, but it wouldn’t have mattered to him. Only that she was better. Now, he watched over her very carefully. He wanted her eating, drinking and resting, the way Steele had said she should. He was very mindful of the advice Libby Drake had given him, to take care of his woman if he wanted her to stay alive.
Seychelle kept telling him she was doing so much better and he didn’t have to hover, but he just ignored her and followed Steele’s regimen to the letter. Sitting across from her off the little deck where he’d held the party for her with the Red Hat ladies, the alarm on his phone went off.
Savage glanced up from the alarm to his woman. He pushed the remote on his phone to allow the gates to swing open.
“Seychelle, the cops are here. No matter what happens, you don’t say a word to them. I’ve texted Absinthe, and he’s on his way. This is a club matter. We don’t talk to cops. They might threaten us, but we keep our mouths shut.”