Corpse Suzette

have a
chance to catch lunch.” She grinned at Dirk, who had helped her polish off an
enormous basket of fish and chips earlier at one of the beachfront stands. They
had each downed double-scoop ice cream cones afterward. “Yeap, all work and no
play, that’s us. Dedicated professionals, all the way.”
    “That’s me, is more
like it, Miss Piña Colada,” Dirk grumbled. “Yeah, I’ve got a pen,” she said as
she dug one out of her purse along with a notebook. “Four of them? Okay, give
me the addresses and phone numbers.”
    After she had written down
all the information and said goodbye to Tammy, she tapped her finger on the
notebook page. “Get that Pepsi down, buddy boy. You and I have work to do. Gome
on now, no dawdling. I ain’t got all day here you know.”
     
    Sitting in the back seat of
a taxi that was hurtling around curved, dusty roads, Savannah dug her nails
into the upholstery and tried not to look over the edge of the road. She had
taken a peek a few minutes ago and had seen a sheer drop of at least one
hundred feet to the churning sea. Her piña colada-filled tummy had done a flip
and a flop, and she had vowed never to look again.
    “You wanna slow this jalopy
down, buster?” Dirk said for the third time. “We’d like to get there in one
piece.”
    The dark little man behind
the wheel didn’t say a word. He didn’t slow down either. At this rate they
would make it from one side of the island to the other in ten minutes... if
they made it at all.
    “This is the last one,”
Savannah said, referring to the realtors on her list. “If they don’t drive a
BMW, we’re back to square one.”
    Dirk shrugged. “So,
sometimes I feel like my house trailer is parked at square one. Familiar
stomping grounds. All too familiar.”
    “Whatcha say you let me
handle this one?”
    “You gonna do better than
I’ve done?”
    “Can’t do much worse.”
    “Hey, those last three
didn’t drive a BMW. Nothing I could have done about that.”
    “Yes, but if you hadn’t
been so abrasive with them, if you had just finessed them a bit, they might
have told you who, if anyone, does drive one. Then we wouldn’t have to be in
this cab, hurtling through space with Nascar Joe here.”
    “They just don’t like us
mainlanders here. You can tell. The whole island is like a giant clique that
hates outsiders.”
    “Oh, yes. You threatening to
sic the Coast Guard, the Marines, and the Navy Seals on them wouldn’t have
anything to do with their lack of cooperation.”
    “I didn’t threaten them
until after they refused to cooperate.”
    “Anyway, I’m going to
handle this next one.”
    “How?”
    “Girl-style.”
    “You mean sneaky?”
    “Exactly.”
     
    They arrived at the
realtor’s office relatively unscathed... if shattered nerves and upset stomachs
didn’t count.
    Savannah grabbed Dirk’s
hand as she got out of the cab and walked up to the door of an establishment
that was quite a bit more polished looking than the other three they had
visited. A charming Queen Anne-style cottage, the business had an ornate,
hand-carved sign in front of it that read, “Elizabeth Fortunato Realty.”
    “Nice place,” she said,
“Maybe Elizabeth is the BMW type. Ladies named ‘Elizabeth’ tend to be classy.”
    “And that’s been proven
scientifically?”
    “Through empirical
evidence.”
    “Whose?”
    “Mine.”
    They walked through the
front door and found a handsome young man sitting at a desk. He was speaking on
the phone to someone, discussing rental rates for a vacation property.
    After listening for only a
few moments, Savannah decided that she probably could never afford to vacation
on Santa Tesla Island for longer than ten minutes. And only then if she brought
her own tent.
    When he hung up, he smiled
at them, and ran his fingers though his thick chestnut curls. “How may I help
you?”
    “We’re looking for
Elizabeth,” Savannah told him. “I met her a couple of days ago and we discussed
a vacation rental, a place on the beach.” She turned and gazed up at Dirk
lovingly. “For our honeymoon.”
    “Oh, congratulations!” the
young man gushed.
    Dirk simply nodded, his
poker face solidly in place. But he did squeeze her hand a little harder.
    “Oh, thank you.” She batted
her eyelashes at Dirk, then at the kid behind the desk. “We’re getting married
next month, on Valentine’s Day. It was Dirk’s idea. We’re going to have lots
and lots of red roses. Red roses are Dirk’s