Raising Prosperity Page 5

  “You did it!” Prosperity had to stop herself from jumping up and down in excitement. “You caught one!”

  “I told you that Mepps spinner was a good ‘un.” Reuben unhooked the spinner from the fish’s mouth and tossed the flapping, gasping creature into a large plastic bin. “First catch of the day.”

  Prosperity clapped her hands together. “Yay! Fresh fish for your supper!”

  Reuben grinned as he checked the spinner and cast the line out once more. “Are you offering to cook it?”

  She gave him a flirty, playful glance. “You catch it, I’ll cook it. Even better, we can take it to the Drunken Swordfish. The sign outside says their chef will cook your catch. My kitchen really isn’t well enough equipped for cooking a gourmet fish supper for one. I don’t eat fish but I’m happy to watch you eat.”

  “Deal.” He returned her grin with a flirty glance of his own and Prosperity flipped her hand at him, feeling warmed by their banter. “Finish your story. You were at the part where you were looking for your friend Matt in Bali.”

  “We were walking past all the bars and restaurants, wondering why he was taking so long to come back with the beer when there were bars as far as the eye could see, and suddenly we saw him being hauled into a cop car. We ran up to see what was going on and it turned out he’d been arrested for some ridiculous, made-up stealing offense by a bad cop looking to make money on a bribe.”

  “That’s terrible! What happened next?”

  “We spent the rest of the vacation trying to get Matt out of prison but in the end his father had to fly over to sort it out. It all seemed so unfair to me and I guess that incident has been the main thrust behind me getting into crime fighting. I can’t abide corruption or skullduggery. There are enough crooked cops in this world and I wanted to be one of the good ones.”

  “That’s very honorable of you. All’s well that ends well, as my mama always used to say.”

  “I think Shakespeare said it first.”

  Prosperity shrugged, lay back down, and pulled the brim of her sun hat over her eyes, afraid that Reuben might see her guilty expression if she didn’t hide her face. She could never let on to Reuben all of what had happened in her own past, not if she wanted to keep her job at the P.D.

  “I might take a little nap while you fish.”

  Several hours later, Reuben dried off his fishing equipment and tucked everything back into the locker beneath the seat. The plastic fish bin now boasted several good-sized sea bass, Prosperity was admiring the golden tan on her legs, and the sun was tracking toward the western horizon. Reuben hauled anchor and had just started the motor when his phone pinged. He groaned as he reached into his pocket.

  “Emergency pager. I’m willing to bet that we’ll have to postpone that fish supper. I can just about guarantee there’s trouble waiting for me back on shore.”

  “That’s the downside to being a cop, I guess.”

  Reuben checked his message and grimaced. “Looks like I’ll have to make like a banana and split as soon as we get back to the wharf. We’ll have to take a raincheck. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem. I’m sure we can do it another time.” Prosperity pushed back her disappointment. They’d had a great day out on the sea but duty always came first. There would be plenty of other opportunities in the future to watch Reuben eat a fish dinner and besides, she needed to get back to her studies.

  9

  Purloined Lasagna

  “The results of the toxicology report are back. There were traces of MDMA in the deceased’s system but not enough to point to an overdose.”

  Prosperity took the paperwork from the lab tech’s hand and scanned her eyes down the page. She’d hoped the report would be in when she came in today. She planned to spend the entire day in her office and she had a lot to get through as she had a full schedule of classes ahead of her tomorrow.

  “Just MDMA?”

  “Yep. Also known as Mad Dog or Ecstasy.”

  Something wrapped its knuckles at the back of Prosperity’s brain and she made a note to check back on it later. “Do we have the analysis back yet on the fabric strands?”

  “Right here.” Terry handed her another printout. “Just as we first thought, it’s a fabric commonly used for uniforms but it is just as commonly used in the manufacture of regular polo shirts. We’re running another test on the dye to see if we can pinpoint that particular shade. It’s a long shot, but long shots have proved to be winners in the past.” He smiled pleasantly, his eyes round and enormous behind his thick-lensed glasses.

  “Thanks, Terry. I’ll go and have a chat with Reuben.” Prosperity took the papers and walked up the corridor to Reuben’s office. The MDMA results did not surprise her; it was a party drug after all and Ophelia was on the island to party. She saw Reuben through the window on his door and knocked once. He looked up and beckoned her in, although she could see now that he was on the phone. She sat in the visitor’s chair to wait, pretending not to listen to the conversation while eavesdropping her little heart out. Unfortunately, the person on the other end of the line appeared to be doing most of the talking and all Prosperity heard was Reuben agreeing to something before he hung up the phone.

  “Prosperity. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  She held the reports aloft. “Results are back. MDMA was found in Ophelia’s system. Trace levels only, so she wasn’t high when she died.”

  “No surprises there, considering the circles she moved in. Anything else?”

  “The fabric samples match the material often used for making uniforms but the test wasn’t specific enough. Terry is running another analysis on the shade of ink.”

  He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on the desk in front of him. “Good. How do you feel about taking on a new mystery? Might give your brain a break from the Rump case.”

  Prosperity sat up a little straighter. “Is this something to do with the emergency call you received on Sunday while we were out on the boat?”

  “No, this one is entirely new. Just landed on my desk this morning.” He got up from his chair and beckoned her to follow him. “Come with me.”

  Curious now, Prosperity followed Reuben back out into the corridor and past the other offices. She frowned as he walked into the staff lunchroom. “What are we doing in here?”

  Reuben opened the refrigerator door and gravely peered inside.

  “There’s been another theft. My apple is gone. First my sandwich and now my apple.”

  She waited for the punchline as he opened the door wide enough for her to look into the interior and turned a mournful face on her.

  “We have a lunchroom thief. It is imperative that they be found and made to pay for their crime.”

  Prosperity’s shoulders sagged in disappointment.

  “That’s the mystery? Ruby, I thought it was going to be something important!”

  “What could be more important than lunch? Some pea-brain stole my sandwich! I’m going to have to go out now if I want to eat. Say, do you want to come along? We could go to Fat Ronnie’s and grab a burger.” He suddenly looked a lot perkier.

  Prosperity suppressed a sigh. “Ruby, this is probably the only day I have in the office this week. I’d planned to be at my desk all day.”

  “Did you bring any lunch?”

  “Well, no … ”

  “That settles it then. You can’t expect your synapses to fire up if you don’t eat. Wait and I’ll get my jacket.” He let the refrigerator door fall shut and strode out of the lunchroom before Prosperity could protest. She banged her head gently against the closed refrigerator door. She would warn him when he came back that she needed to be back in the office in thirty minutes, tops.

  “Are you okay?”

  Prosperity looked over her shoulder to see Officer Ryley watching her dubiously from the doorway. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just taking my frustrations out on the door. Are you a victim of the so-called lunch thief too?”

  “What lunch thief?” T
he young man was over at the refrigerator in two quick strides and Prosperity quickly hopped out of the way. She wasn’t about to foolishly stand between a hungry man and his food. A woman could give a man two things that set his blood to boiling and one of them was food—another wise lesson from her mother. Ryley opened the door and made a noise closer to a scream than anything Prosperity had ever heard come out of a man’s mouth before. “It’s gone!”

  “Told you. Reuben’s is gone as well. We’re heading over to Fat Ronnie’s if you want us to pick you up anything.”

  “I wanted my own lunch,” he wailed, wringing his hands and shaking his head in outraged disbelief. “Mom gave me the leftover lasagna from last night’s dinner! I’ve been dreaming about it all morning!”

  “I feel your pain,” Reuben said grimly from behind Prosperity. “There’s a thief in the building and they will be stopped. Don’t worry, Prosperity is on the case.”

  “Weren’t you listening when I said I already had enough to do?” Prosperity grabbed Ruby by the hand and hauled him along the corridor. “Hurry up, I want to grab some lunch and get back to the office. I don’t intend to allow a stolen sandwich and a purloined lasagna to hold me up.”

  Ruby spent the entire drive over to Fat Ronnie’s muttering about what he’d do once he caught the perpetrator. Prosperity was only half listening as she jotted down notes about the Ophelia case in her notepad app on her phone. Once they got back to the office, she would go through the interviews with the people who had attended the thirtieth birthday party and then she would see what she could find out about Ophelia’s philanthropic pursuits. There was more than enough work to keep her busy for the next 48 hours straight and here she was making an unnecessary emergency trip to get Sea Chicken burgers. She shut down the app and glanced at Ruby. “What’s this new case you’re working on? The one that prevented you enjoying freshly caught sea bass for dinner?”

  “A fraud case. Not quite as interesting as a murder but looks like it’s landed on my desk regardless of whether I want it there or not.” He pulled over outside the glaringly bright red and yellow frontage of Fat Ronnie’s. “Did Ryley want us to get him anything?”

  “He didn’t say. He was too busy weeping over his lost lasagna. Get him something anyway. I can’t bear the sight of crying children.” She climbed out of the car and walked into a wall of burger-scented warmth. Her stomach did a quick loop-the-loop before sitting up to beg. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

  Reuben ordered two Sea Chicken burgers with two large fries and a Happy Snappy Meal for Ryley from the bored-faced girl behind the counter. He hooked his fingers in his belt loops and hummed the Exploding Bubbles jingle while Prosperity clenched her teeth, tapped her foot impatiently, and fiddled with the strap of her shoulder bag. She should’ve brought some of the interview files with her—if she’d done that she could’ve made the most of the down time and started on them during the drive here and back.

  “Looks like someone could do with a double shot of bourbon and a quick round of how’s your father,” Reuben observed mildly.

  She turned on him at once, taking out her frustrations with a snide comment that wouldn’t have otherwise left her mouth. “And it looks like someone should listen when someone else tells them they’re busy. Ears work best when they’re not painted on.”

  Reuben’s lips twitched. “You weren’t this quick tempered when we were bobbing out in the middle of the ocean. You were almost sweet-natured while we were out there on the waves. Perhaps it was all that bracing sea air. It is known to have a softening effect. The island effect, some folks call it.”

  “Your order’s ready. Burgers on wheels.” The young woman leaned across to place the burger order on the counter, loudly chewing on her gum as her chomping teeth sent a powerfully distinctive mango fragrance out into the immediate vicinity.

  Her Dollar Store bangle clanked against the countertop and the silver cat charm that dangled from the bangle danced erratically against the red fabric of her uniform.

  Reuben picked up the burgers and handed them to Prosperity. “Hey, if you don’t eat fish why would you eat a Sea Chicken burger? Something isn’t quite right with this picture.”

  “It’s psychological. My ears hear chicken, my brain catches the thought as it bounces off my frontal cortex, and my nerve endings relay it to my tongue. Everyone knows that.”

  Prosperity bundled the wrapped burgers into an organic string bag she’d pulled from her purse, in no mood for Ruby’s teasing.

  “Can we go back to the office now? Some of us have work to do.”

  10

  Clutch Cargo

  Prosperity sat on the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn balanced on the cushion beside her. She had her laptop open on the coffee table in front of her and a number of tabs open. She’d managed to find a couple of Clutch Cargo episodes and she was determined to learn what she could about this show that dated back to the earliest, groundbreaking years of television. It had taken her a few frustrating minutes to find what she was looking for as her browser seemed determined to take her to auto repair sites, but she now had all that she needed. She tossed a kernel of salty, crunchy goodness into her mouth and hit the Play button.

  Clutch Cargo, as he appeared in front of her in all of his cartoon glory, had an astonishingly George Clooney-esque appearance, which was odd as the series premiered when Clooney was just a small child. Clutch’s chin was sharp enough to peel a coconut on and the blurred-edge real-life human mouth producing his speech was just weird. The wholesome episode was over in a blink and Prosperity moved on to the next.

  Twenty minutes later and four episodes down, she was still none the wiser as to why Ophelia—or someone else—had tucked the name of the show inside her bra. The graphics were grindingly old-fashioned to the eyes of the modern viewer, the trio’s adventures were dangerous yet held no danger to the participants, and those moving lips would probably haunt Prosperity’s dreams for the next five years but she could not find anything that hinted at a clue. She switched her laptop off and sat back to gaze thoughtfully into the middle distance. The only viable clue they’d found in relation to Clutch Cargo was the name Spinner, which might or might not relate to fishing lures.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned over her laptop again. As far as she could tell, the Clutch Cargo lead was dead in the water. It was time to pull out her machete and cut a new trail. She typed Ophelia Rump into the search bar and waited as the first page of 1,576,334,690 results came up.

  Prosperity scanned through the first three pages quickly as every recent news article, blog post, and interview related to Ophelia’s death. She found her first article of note on the bottom of Page 5, a small paragraph from a celebrity news page that mentioned that Ophelia had attended a charity auction four weeks prior to her death. The fundraiser benefited the Cancer Society and appeared to have attracted a large number of celebrity supporters. Prosperity clicked past the article, acting on a strong feeling that this wasn’t what she was looking for, and took another handful of popcorn. Again, she had the feeling that she was missing something important.

  She opened a Word document and typed out all that they knew so far:

  Ophelia died from asphyxiation due to the wad of bubblegum wedged in her windpipe.

  She had trace amounts of MDMA in her system, and mysterious threads of red fabric under her fingernails.

  The Clutch Cargo note was in her bra.

  And in her pocket was a bubblegum wrapper that had revealed nothing of interest when tested in the lab.

  The victim’s expensive bracelet was missing and she had a cryptic tattoo on her butt.

  Prosperity typed bluebird and fish under the tattoo paragraph and then attempted to spell ECSTATIC, misspelling the word several times before giving up and right-clicking to choose the correct word from the drop down box. She hovered the mouse over the correct spelling then gasped out loud. The word the program suggested beneath ecstatic on the list wa
s ecstasy.

  Could Ophelia’s tattoo have been a coy reference to MDMA? If so, what was the link with the fish and the bluebird? She searched for fish in relation to street or slang names for drugs but found herself going off on a tangent reading about dangerous fishbowl drug parties favored by bored teenagers. Bluebird had a better result as Prosperity discovered a page referencing the word as commonly used as a slang name for depressants. Was the bubblegum heiress’s tattoo a visual, permanent salute to her favored cocktail of drugs? But why would she do that when inquiries had shown she was only an irregular drug user herself? Prosperity used the yellow highlighter feature on the program to highlight her tattoo jottings and reached thoughtfully for more popcorn. At least writing it down had made everything clear, even if it didn’t amount to much on paper. At this stage, they had nothing more than a handful of seemingly unrelated leads and very little else.

  She got up to walk around her cramped apartment, feeling the need to clear her head and stretch her legs. Sleuthing was hard on the brain but luckily, she’d always been a whizz at jigsaw puzzles. She and Rolling Stone would sit for hours poring over a jumble of blue-green-white pieces as they slowly re-constructed a snowy mountain scene. She had to admit that she was generally better at the activity than her father, especially if he’d been on the weed and mistook the blue-green-white pieces for psychedelic shades of purple-yellow-pink, but she’d always enjoyed those hours they’d spent together. Good times in Arcata before she learned how cruel the world could be.

  Her phone began to ring and she walked back over to where she’d left it on the counter. Ruby.

  “Hey! I’ve just been going over some of the Ophelia file. I think I might have found something.”