Raising Prosperity Read online

  “No, you go to your meeting. I’ll finish my drink and get an Uber.”

  “In that case, I’ll make like Linda Lovelace—”

  “Stop!” She held up a hand to interrupt whatever he was going to say next.

  He grinned. “Later, Prosperity.”

  21

  Spinner McKee

  Sophie, the department’s newly installed lab tech following Terry’s hasty and unexpected departure, tapped nervously on Prosperity’s door.

  “Come in, Sophie! Don’t be shy.” Prosperity looked inquisitively at the paperwork in the girl’s hand. “Are those the results from the red fabric fibers?”

  Sophie, a studious girl with Chinese heritage and a self-conscious habit of pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with her middle finger, nodded eagerly. “Yes, and we've got a match.”

  “Wonderful!” Prosperity held out her hand for the test results. “Is it a uniform, as we suspected?”

  “Yes, and it’s a uniform with a local connection. The fibers are from a one-off batch of trial red dye that was discontinued after just one print run. The end products were only used for the uniforms of one company across the entire U.S. and the world.”

  “Perfect! But you said there is a local connection. Don’t tell me that the single company who used that particular fabric for their uniforms is situated right here on the island? Could we be that lucky?”

  Sophie grinned and pushed her glasses up. “Yup. Fat Ronnie’s. The burger joint.”

  “Are you serious?” Prosperity felt a sudden burst of hope. Was this the breakthrough they’d been waiting for? Fat Ronnie’s did not have a high employee turnover and although the store employed casual workers, there should surely be records of everyone who had worked the till or slung a patty.

  “One hundred percent certain.” Sophie propped up her glasses once again, causing the starfish charm that she wore on a delicate chain around her wrist to jingle against the frame of her spectacles.

  “Wow. Our killer might be closer than we thought. Silly man. It never pays to make poopie in your own sandpit.”

  “Pros?” Reuben, about to bounce into Prosperity’s office, pulled himself up short by grabbing hold of the doorframe. “Oh, hello Sophie.”

  Sophie flushed and frantically pushed up her glasses with her middle finger. The charm on her wrist jumped around wildly. “H-h-hello Mr. Jackson. I just came in to give Prosperity the results of the fabric analysis.”

  “For the Ophelia case?” Reuben walked into the room, towering over the diminutive lab technician, and craned his neck to try to see the document in Prosperity’s hand.

  Prosperity nodded.

  “Yes, the Ophelia case. They’ve traced the fabric to the uniform worn by Fat Ronnie’s employees. Ruby, the guy who fried your last burger might be our murderer.”

  “Whoah. That’s unexpected.” He moved out of the way so that Sophie, her head down, could slide past him and escape out of the room. “Looks like we might be doing a little interrogating down there after our meeting with Spinner. I have to say that I can’t think of a nicer place to conduct interviews. The Gods are smiling on me today.”

  “She has a crush on you.” Prosperity gazed thoughtfully after Sophie’s retreating form. “Ruby, I know this is probably an odd request, but could you humor me? You said that a jeweler friend of your brother’s wanted to check the charm from the candy bag with her specialized microscope equipment. Could you let her do it? For me?”

  Reuben pulled his eyebrows down into a frown. “I could, but why?”

  “Let’s just call it woman’s intuition. It’s never let me down in the past, even when I … ” She bit down hard on her lip to stop herself. She’d almost told Reuben about the incident from her past that would change his opinion of her forever, and not in a good way. She quickly recovered herself by launching into an entirely different anecdote. “Even when I worked as a maid, I always knew I could rely on my intuition.”

  “Like when? Give me an example.” Reuben perched on the edge of her desk and waited expectantly.

  “Um … ”

  She figuratively wiped the sweat from her forehead, astounded that she’d nearly given the game away.

  “Like the time I was cleaning the honeymoon suite at the Anchor Inn. Something told me that I shouldn’t open the door, but I went ahead and did it anyway.” She pulled a face, remembering her mortification at the time. “Mr. and Mrs. Newlywed were going at it hammer and tongs on the floor, naked as jaybirds, and I nearly stepped right on them. I should’ve listened to my intuition.”

  Reuben snorted. “Or taken notice of the fact you were cleaning a honeymooners’ room. Surely you know what goes on inside a honeymoon suite.”

  He settled his gaze on her and she was disconcerted to see a distinct hunger in his eyes. A hunger that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with. She quickly stood up and walked around her desk to the door.

  “We should go,” she said brightly. “And I’ll take your lack of reply as a yes.” His eyes gleamed and she hastily added, “I’m talking about letting the jeweler analyze the charm.”

  “The things you make me do.” He brushed past her, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved in close and away again, and stood out in the corridor to wait for her. “Time to make like a prom dress and take off.”

  Prosperity cleared her throat and marched on ahead of him, aware of his eyes still on her. “Or make like a bakery truck and haul our buns out of here. Come on, we’ve got a lot to do today.”

  “Buns … I hate to say it, but you’re whetting my appetite Prosperity Spartanburg.”

  “Friday is Diet Day,” Prosperity said pertly. “We’ll take my car.”

  Spinner McKee lived in an architectural showpiece of a home on a bluff above Vineyard Sound with orgasmic views of Aquinnah to Lambert’s Cove Beach. The kind of views a girl would choose over Netflix and chill without giving her decision a second thought, Prosperity mused enviously. Panoramic sea views and chill, with a cold glass of wine and a hot man to complete the breathtaking picture.

  Unfortunately, Spinner was not the kind of man that most women would rate as hot. At best, he might raise a low tepid on the heat scale but hey, to each her own and Prosperity had no doubt that Spinner’s reputation, charm, and obvious wealth would draw in plenty of ladies who were prepared to overlook his lack of good looks. Spinner, with his weather ravaged face and crooked front teeth, was the epitome of an old fisherman on the turn after too many hours spent in the sun. However, he was welcoming and genial when he met them at the door and led them through the house to this living room to die for. Prosperity wondered if it would be too rude if she left Ruby to conduct the interview and instead glued her nose to the floor to ceiling windows and drank in the view. As far as she was concerned, Jimmy Buffett singing Son of a Sailor via Bluetooth in the background only added to the placid and peaceful atmosphere.

  Spinner and Reuben greeted each other like old friends, throwing their arms around each other and clapping one another on the back. Prosperity watched on in amusement as they then simultaneously launched into a secret handshake involving lots of palm clapping, fist bumping, and finger waving. “You two boys clearly have a history.”

  “We go way back.” Spinner gave her an appreciative, lingering once-over but Prosperity didn’t find his glance at all intrusive or creepy. It was more like the proud look Rolling Stone and her Uncle had given her on her 21st birthday when she successfully completed her 21 shots in her allotted two minutes. Gawd that had been a night to—well, to forget actually.

  “Way, way back.” Ruby sat down on the sofa as if he belonged there and stared at the door through which they’d just walked. He pursed his lips to make a long, low cat-talk squeak. “I see you still have Mrs. Yee, Spinner.”

  Prosperity followed the direction of his gaze just in time to see an aloof Siamese cat, with her elegant tail in the air, walk past the open door. She stared straight ahead and did not falter at the sound of Reub
en’s call, studiously ignoring everyone in the living room.

  Spinner chuckled as he perched himself on an uncomfortable-looking wooden stool beneath a framed painting of a wild, stormy sea. “Yes, I still have Mrs. Yee. The old bitch just won’t leave.”

  Reuben laughed for the right amount of time before rearranging his face into serious lines and creases. “Spinner, we need to ask you if you know anything about the dead girl whose body was found on Menemsha Public Beach. We’ve been following a line of inquiry and your name may or may not have come up.”

  Spinner’s expression mirrored Reuben’s serious face. “I’m sorry to hear that, Rube. As you know, I try to keep myself on the straight and narrow these days.”

  “And I commend you for it. However, the name Spinner keeps raising its head and I can’t close that particular avenue until I’ve spoken to you.” Reuben allowed a small smile to creep across his face. “After all, you are a Martha’s Vineyard luminary.”

  Spinner nodded. “It sure seems that way,” he said modestly. “It wasn’t anything I set out to do but sometimes fame comes a-knocking and refuses to leave until you open the door and let her in. Ask me anything, anything at all, and I’ll be happy to give you an answer.”

  He turned his kind blue eyes on Prosperity.

  “You too, darlin’. Ask away.”

  22

  Cherry Cola

  Spinner was a genuine old sea shanty come to life. He was the Drunken Sailor rolled up with Farewell to Ye You Fine Spanish Ladies before receiving a lightly dusted sprinkle of Heave Away, Haul Away and a healthy squirt of Homeward Bound. Prosperity curled her feet up under her on the sofa, happy to sit here and listen to him all day long. His voice was music to her ears, his face was a book in itself, and oh, how she missed Rolling Stone.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Spinner paused the question and answer game by holding up his hand in a stop gesture as Reuben flipped over the next page of his notebook.

  “Wait, Rube. The little lady looks as if she’s just hooked herself a memory in the fishing net of her mind. I’m guessing she needs to release it before the darn thing beats itself senseless against the front of her skull.”

  Prosperity, feeling suddenly self-conscious as both men directed their focus onto her, shook her head. “I’m okay. I was just thinking of my daddy.”

  Spinner twinkled his eyes at her. “Those kind of memories belong in the trophy room of your heart. I’m sure he was a fine man, darlin’.”

  “He was.” Prosperity wiped the back of her hand across the end of her nose. “The best.”

  The men gave Prosperity a respectful few minutes to pull herself together before Reuben spoke again. “Spinner, we heard you had some involvement with The Dog’s Bawlz and their upcoming movie production.”

  “Aye, you heard right. I was one of the major sponsors but it’s been canned due to the sad, unforeseen circumstances of Ophelia’s death. Are you any closer to finding the perpetrator, Rube?”

  “We might be.” He exchanged a glance with Prosperity but didn’t elaborate. “I guess you knew Ophelia well.”

  Spinner struggled to speak over the lump in his throat. “She was like a daughter to me.”

  “This must be so difficult for you.” Prosperity impulsively got up from her seat and went over to give Spinner a quick hug. “We’ll find him, I promise.”

  Spinner returned her hug and gave her a fatherly pat on the back. “How can you be so sure that it’s a him?”

  Prosperity gave Spinner one final squeeze before sitting down again, looking to Reuben for clarification. “We believe it was a man due to the results of our scene investigation and post mortem analysis. It would’ve taken someone with a great deal of strength to force that lump of gum into Ophelia’s throat. All signs are pointing to a man.”

  Spinner reeled back, looking startled. “A lump of gum in her throat?”

  “Ooops. Sorry, I forgot those details hadn’t been released to the public. Yes, the cause of death was suffocation by a double wad of Strawberry Sensation bubblegum.”

  “Nasty.” Spinner hurriedly got up and marched over to the large cedarwood sideboard that took up most of one wall. “Anyone want a drink?”

  It was Prosperity’s turn to look startled. Hadn’t Mish told her Spinner McKee was a recovering alcoholic? Spinner caught the look on her face and chuckled softly.

  “There’s no liquor in the house but I have every non-alcoholic drink you could ever think of. What do you want? Cherry cola, orange juice, lemon soda, tonic water, monkey nut juice?” He flung open a cupboard door to reveal rows upon rows of bottles. “What’s your poison?”

  “Lime and soda, please. That’s an impressive range you’ve got there, Spinner.”

  “Aye, I’m proud of it. Lime and soda for the lady.” He mixed a long drink in a tall glass, added ice cubes, and passed the glass to Prosperity with a warm smile. “Rube? What’s your choice?”

  “Cherry cola is fine with me. Thanks, Spinner.”

  They sipped their drinks as Reuben returned to his gentle questioning but it was obvious to Prosperity that Spinner knew nothing that could advance their investigation. After he’d told them a few anecdotes about Ophelia, he and Reuben segued into a conversation about fishing rods and she wandered over to the window for another look at the view. The Blue Jay candy boat lay moored offshore, its gleaming paintwork catching the light and turning the vessel into a multi-faceted diamond. She felt calm and peaceful here, carried away on a gentle wave of serenity and wellbeing.

  “Prosperity?”

  Roused out of her daydreaming, she turned around to see Spinner and Reuben gazing at her as if they were waiting for her to say something. “What? Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “Spinner asked if you’d like him to take you out on his yacht sometime. I’ve been out on it and I can tell you it puts my little putt-putt boat to shame.”

  “Oh, I’d love that!” Prosperity clapped her hands. “Count me in.”

  “Great. We’ll make a day of it.” Spinner collected up their empty glasses before taking them back through the house to the front door. “It was lovely to meet you, darlin’.” He brushed his dry lips against Prosperity’s cheek and shook Reuben’s hand. “See you soon, Rube. We still have that date with a bowling ball that we haven’t managed to pin down yet.”

  “Will do, Spinner. Thanks for seeing us today.”

  “No problem. And good luck with your investigation. I expect to hear good news any day now.”

  Prosperity couldn’t stop gushing like a fan girl about Spinner as they drove away. “He’s so lovely! What a pleasant man. I can see why he’s a local celebrity.”

  “Yeah, Spinner is one of the good guys. Turn here, Prosperity. It’s a shortcut to Fat Ronnie’s. You can be sure that I know every short cut there is to that burger joint.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Always hungry. You know that.” He looked down as his phone beeped. “Well, lookee here. A text message from the lovely Apex.”

  There was no mistaking the pleasure in his voice, much to Prosperity’s irritation.

  “Have you seen her again? Since your dinner date?” Prosperity found herself hoping that he’d say no.

  “No, not yet. We can’t seem to get our schedules to mesh.” He frowned at his phone as another message pinged in. “What’s going on here? She’s sent me a series of photos.”

  His frown deepened.

  “There’s more.”

  “Nudes?” Prosperity didn’t bother to hide her derision.

  “No, unfortunately.” He turned his phone around and upside down, squinting at the screen as if he was trying to make sense of the image. “They look like photos of her hand.”

  “Maybe she pocket-dialed you.” Prosperity found a parking spot near Fat Ronnie’s and reversed the Beetle into the bay. “Can I see?”

  “What do you make of this?” He thrust his phone at her and Prosperity found herself gazing at a blurry photo of what looked to
be a woman’s hand. Reuben shoved his face in close beside hers, giving Prosperity a strong whiff of his Old Spice shampoo and hair gel, and he peered at the screen again. “That one is showing all five fingers. I don’t get it. There are five photos of nothing but her fingers.”

  Prosperity flipped through the five photos again. “Five fingers, four fingers, one finger, one finger, one finger. 5-4-1-1-1.” She stared out the windscreen as her brain tried to compute the data. “5-4-1-1-1.”

  “5-4-1-1-1,” Reuben sang to the tune of the pop-pop-a-bubble-o! jingle.

  “No, it’s not that.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “5-4-1-1-1. 5 + 4 … Reuben! She’s trying to tell you to call 911!”

  Reuben looked doubtful. “You think?”

  “Yes!!! She must be in trouble!”

  “Why would she bother sending me photos instead of a text or a phone call if she’s in trouble?”

  “What if she can’t? What if her hands are tied and she can’t type?”

  “But she can still take photos? Prosperity, something isn’t ringing true with your wild theory.”

  “Call her,” Prosperity ordered. “Call her right now and find out what she has to say for herself.”

  “She should have left the island by now.”

  “Call her!”

  Reuben’s chest heaved and he sighed deeply as he stabbed his thick finger at the keyboard. “Okay, okay.”

  Prosperity watched as Ruby waited, straining her ears to hear the other side of the conversation, but Apex didn’t pick up. After several rings, the voicemail message cut in and Reuben hung up with yet another heavy sigh.

  “She isn’t there.”

  “Call her father,” Prosperity urged. “Call Pinnacle and see if he’s heard from her.”

  Reuben dialed Pinnacle’s number and waited once again. He shook his head before he hung up and Prosperity knew the news wasn’t good. Tense, agitated, and now visibly wound up, Reuben dropped the phone into his lap with a muttered curse.