Riptide (Sam McRae Mystery #3)

Chapter 42

After Conroy and I finished our talk, I got on the phone.

"Hey, Jinx," I said.

"Well, have you decided?"

"I'm fine, thank you. And, yes, I think I've decided."

"Oh, good! So will you support me?" True to form, Jinx ignored my little joke at her expense.

"Actually, before I answer, could we meet? I just have one or two more questions for you."

"Questions?" Jinx sounded appalled.

"You did say you'd provide reassurance you'd keep your end of the bargain. I'd like to see some proof of that, before I agree to anything."

Jinx sputtered. "Well, of course. I can arrange that."

"So ... can we meet? At your place, perhaps?"

"No, no. How about that coffee place? Java on the Beach?"

Another round of parry and thrust with Jinx in a tiny dump that smelled like rotten fish? Thank God, it wouldn't come to that.

An hour later, I stood outside Java on the Beach. The air was fresher and I knew this wouldn't take long.

Jinx strolled up, looking dapper in khaki pants and a conservative navy blazer over a white shell. Based on her outfit, I assumed she must have been attending the conference. Looking at her made me feel like a kid playing hooky.

"Shall we go in?" she said.

"That won't be necessary," I said, raising my hand, palm out. "I'm saying no to your deal."

Jinx's eyes nearly popped from her skull. "What?"

"I said—"

"I heard you the first time," Jinx snapped. She gazed at me with a wounded expression.

"I'm sorry, but that's my answer."

"You realize I'm going ahead with this? With or without your help?"

I shrugged. "Qué será será. Whatever. So long and good luck with that." I walked away.

"So why the hell did you want to meet?" Jinx called after me.

I stopped and turned to look at her. "I just had to see your face when I gave you the news."

* * *

Having dispensed with that, I made a few phone calls and stops on my way back up Coastal Highway. I crossed the line into Delaware and turned into the "Fenwick Dreams" complex. I pulled up to the first building past the big brick sign with the gold lettering and parked the car. The silver compact appeared not to have moved.

She was up there. I surveyed the lot. Quite a few cars, actually. Not like we were all alone. Even so, I wondered if this was the ideal place to confront a murderer.

"Silly," I murmured. "You're covered, right?" I had my mace, my wits, my cell phone. And my ace in the hole. Plus I'd made arrangements. I only hoped I'd been taken seriously.

However, these killers were wily. They'd already killed one person to protect their illegal activities and their culpability as Billy Ray's murderers.

On the other hand, how else was I going to flush them out? To do that, I had to show my cards and let them make a move. I had to do something to keep Jamila from going down for a crime she didn't commit. I simply wouldn't allow it. I couldn't allow it.

I sighed. "Well, Sam. You're not going to accomplish anything sitting here, are you?"

I exited the car and locked up. I climbed the steps to the house Conroy had visited only hours earlier. I rapped on the door.

The elevated beach house afforded a stellar ocean view, which I was admiring when she answered. Tall and slender, she wore a dark tan and a puzzled expression.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Hi, Maria," I said. "Or should I say, Marsha?"