Double Dog Dare (The Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series) (3 page)

Miles winked at her.  “Good call, Champ.”

We stopped at an outdoor café where I had the best caramelized onion and goat cheese pizza I had ever tasted—which I later learned was probably due to the shaved truffles on top—and Cisco had grilled salmon, hold the lemon butter. I’m not at all sure what Melanie had, and she probably wasn’t either, because, with the possible exception of the three and a half seconds it took Cisco to gulp down his salmon, she spent the entire time trying to distract him from his fascination with a yappy little bichon two tables down.  It was good dog-training experience for her. 

It was exciting, being this far from home, but also a little unsettling.  The sky was so blue it hurt my eyes, even with the sunglasses, and I kept looking around for the mountains.  Without them I felt exposed.
The air smelled different and the sun was hotter. The voices around me spoke in half a dozen different accents, and none of them were familiar to me.  But what struck me the most was how different the people were —svelte, sophisticated, beautifully groomed and perfectly put together, but for all that they were in what was arguably one of the most beautiful places in the world enjoying an exquisite gourmet meal with companions they presumably liked, none of them seemed particularly happy.  I, on the other hand, am I lot like a golden retriever in that respect: when I’m having a good time, people know it.  When I’m not, people know it.

My golden retriever role model had finally given up on the bichon—or perhaps had succumbed to the excitement of the trip and the soporific heat—and was stretched out under the table on his back, letting me rub his furry belly with my bare foot. 
“You know,” I observed to Miles, “I’m really very provincial.” That might have been considered stating the obvious, given the circumstances, but I was okay with that.

“So you are,” Miles agreed. “One of the things I like best about you.”

I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.  It was Melanie who pointed out, “I don’t think that’s a compliment, Dad.”

“Of course it is.  I’m provincial too.”

Melanie grinned at him around the straw of her virgin pina colada and inquired, “Am I?”

He pretended to think about it.  “No.  You’re more sophisticated than either one of us.  One of the things I like best about you.”

Melanie giggled.

I liked seeing Miles in such a playful mood, and I could tell Melanie was enjoying his attention.  I was starting to think this trip had not been such a bad idea after all.  I sipped my own drink—also a virgin pina colada, which seemed to be made with ice cream and was actually better without the rum.  “
What I meant was,” I explained to Miles, “I don’t get out of the mountains nearly enough.  It’s a pretty big culture shock.  So why did you end up buying a place here?” I glanced around.  “This doesn’t really seem like your kind of crowd.”

Not, I realized suddenly, that I had any real idea what his kind of crowd was.  Until now, we had only been together in my world—dog shows, mountain hikes, small town fairs—and
he had always been comfortable there.  But what if this strange and shiny place with its sleek, bored-looking people was where he really belonged?

But he reassured me in the next moment with a shrug. “I got the p
roperty in foreclosure.  I’ll sell it in five years for three times what I paid, meanwhile it more than pays for its upkeep in the rent I get from rich tourists.  And the sailing is great.”

Th
at reminded me of what I had meant to ask him earlier.  “Miles, I’m curious.”

“Another one of the things I like best about you.”  Behind his sunglasses, I could almost see his eyes twinkle, and Melanie giggled again.

I went on, “Is it customary to close down an entire section of the ocean when there’s a diving accident?  Seems pretty impractical to me.”

“It is impractical, most of the time.  But I suppose it depends on the circumstances.  If the site is unsafe, for example.”

“But the driver didn’t say anything about that.  He just said the authorities were investigating.  I wonder what they’re investigating.  Or do you think it’s just routine?  Maybe it’s local policy to close the site after an accident.”

Maybe I didn’t mention that
, in addition to my father being a judge, my uncle had been the sheriff of my small town for almost thirty years, a position my ex-husband now held.  I had grown up around law enforcement, and thinking like a policeman had become a habit.

“Don’t ask me, sugar.  I’m just a provincial boy from South Carolina, and I’m on vacation.  Anybody up for dessert, or are you read
y for some beach time?”
      “Beach!” both Melanie and I chorused, and Cisco, sensing new excitement, got up so quickly he bumped his head on the table.  He shook it off, ready for anything, and as soon as I found my shoes, so was I.  I could still take a lesson from my golden retriever, and, after all, I was on vacation too.

~*~

The car wound its way up the side of a hill, through a set of wrought iron gates that opened automatically to admit us, and down a palm lined shell drive to a long, sprawling stucco villa surrounded by deep, marble floored lanais and sheltered by a red tile roof.  A sweep of green lawn arced away from the entrance on either side,
and a trellis draped in brilliant pink bougainvillea led the way to an expansive patio at the side of the house, where I got a glimpse of a shimmering pool.

I looked at Miles accusingly.  “You said it was a condo!”

“I do have a condo,” he said, “but that side of the island is so crowded this time of year. The villa is much nicer.”

Melanie wrinkled her nose.  “And sometimes the ladies take their tops off on the beaches over there.  It’s gross.”

“Gross,” agreed Miles with a perfectly straight face.

“So you have two houses on
St. Bart’s,” I clarified cautiously.

“No, I have a condo and a villa.  The villa doesn’t have a hot tub, but it does have a pool.  I hope you’re not disappointed.”
He pushed up his sunglasses so I could see the smile in his eyes. 

I said, pretending to frown,
“I’ll let you know.”

The car glided to a stop at the porticoed front entrance and Melanie pushed open the door almost in the same instant, practically tumbling out in her excitement. “Wait till you see the pool!” she said.  “It’s majorly cool!”

I grabbed for Cisco’s leash and missed as he bounded out behind her and the two of them raced across the lawn.  “It’s okay,” Miles assured me. “Everything is fenced and gated.  Just don’t give him the security code.”

I got out and
took it all in—the rugged green hills behind us dotted with red-roofed villas, the turquoise sea spreading out below the velvet lawn, the shushing sound of the ocean, the breeze that tugged at my skirt and my hair. I felt whatever was left of the tension of the past few weeks melt into the place where sea met sky.

Miles put an arm around my shoulders.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”  he said.  “This is what I wanted you to see. And this…” he turned me in his arms, pulling me close,  “is what I wanted you to feel.”

I draped my arms around his neck and leaned in for his kiss, but it was not to be.
I heard a splash, followed by Melanie’s delighted squeal of “
Cisco!
” and I winced, turning toward the sound.  “Is he allowed in the pool?”

Miles gave a resigned laugh and followed as I trotted toward the pool area. 

It was, as Melanie had promised, spectacular.  The crystal blue rectangle was positioned in the center of a giant expanse of weathered teak, its infinity edge disappearing into the horizon at the exact point the ocean met the sky.  I couldn’t help wondering how that must appear to the golden retriever who was so happily paddling across the surface of the water now just as though he had every intention of swimming out to sea. The deck was lined with ten or fifteen luxurious chaises upholstered in bright yellow with turquoise pillows, and underneath a shady gazebo there was a dining area with a circular banquette upholstered in turquoise with bright yellow cushions.  I could picture myself sitting here, gazing out over the ocean and sipping something cool and tangy, for the entire week in perfect contentment.  The golden retriever swimming in the pool was optional.

I went over to the steps and called Cisco out.  Melanie said, “We should have gotten him some pool toys while we were in town.  Hey!  I saw a dog paddling a surf board on You-Tube once.  I bet we could teach Cisco to do that.”

“As long as you teach him in the pool.  He’s not ready to catch the big waves yet.”

Cisco felt the steps under his paws and Melanie leaned forward to grab his collar as he climbed out.  Of course
, the minute he was on dry ground he shook water everywhere, soaking Melanie and grinning when she squealed.  Everybody loves a dog with a sense of humor.

I was faster to back away than she was and only got a few water splotches on my skirt, but I could tell it was going to be a long week unless we figured out some way to keep Cisco out of the pool.  And I had only brought one quick-dry dog towel.

Miles said, “Run get some towels from the bath house, Mel, and dry him off before you come in the house.”   He touched my shoulder lightly.  “I’ll show you your room.  And, ” he added over his shoulder as we turned toward the house, “no going to the beach without an adult.”

“I know, I know,” she replied, wiping her wet glasses on the hem of her shirt, which only made them wetter.

“And Cisco is not an adult,” I felt compelled to add, and she giggled.

The entire back wall of the house was made of glass doors, which were now open to the sea breeze and a sleek steel-and-granite kitchen that could have been lifted from the pages of a magazine.  There was a marble-floored
-living room encased in the same drop-dead views of ocean and sky as we had seen outside, furnished with low white leather sofas and tangerine accents.  The bedrooms were up a single flight of open teak stairs enclosed by cable wire and flooded with light and blue sky from the tall windows that surrounded it.

“There are five bedrooms up here,” Miles said, “and a nanny’s room downstairs.  Mel is down the hall, and here you are.” 

He opened the door to a large airy room with buttercup yellow walls and polished mahogany floors. In the center of the room was a tall four-poster bed dressed in a French provincial yellow and red floral comforter with red pillow shams and a bright red cotton throw arranged in a perfect triangle over one corner of the bed.  A table held a vase of fresh flowers and a crystal dish of chocolates.  Next to my bed there was an ice bucket containing individual bottles of  mineral water and a bottle of champagne; there were wine glasses and a plate of fresh fruit on the  night stand.  At the foot of the bed was a Cisco-sized dog bed upholstered in the same pattern as the comforter, with a bright red dog blanket artfully arranged across one corner.  And next to it was a silver dog dish embossed with raised bones, with a matching dish filled with water, a few ice cubes still floating on top.

I couldn’t help laughing out loud with delight. 
“Miles, this is unbelievable!”
    “Do you like it?” he asked, pleased.  “I thought you would.”

“Are you kidding me?  Champagne, chocolate…a custom dog bed!”  I went from one surface to the other, touching each one, as happy as a puppy in a dog park.  “Silver dog dishes!”

“They’re probably plate,” he admitted.  “The concierge service fixed it all up for you when I told them there would be a dog.  They went all out for Pepper, too, when we brought her down last winter.”

I
went out onto the deck, inhaled the sea view, and waved down to Melanie, who was vigorously rubbing Cisco down with a towel on the pool deck below.  “Be sure to dry his feet,” I called, “or he’ll track wet paw prints all over the floors.”

Melanie waved back in acknowledgement and Cisco did his funny little three-legged dance while she started drying his paws one at a time.

“They’re marble,” Miles reminded me.  “They can take it.”  He nodded his head toward another set of open doors a few feet away.  “That’s my room, by the way.”

“Oh,” I said innocently.  “We share a balcony.  How nice.”

“And convenient,” he pointed out.  “In case you should, you know, need anything during the night.”

“Oh, I’m sure I won’t,” I replied, deadpan.  “I mean…
”  I turned back to the room and spread my arms.  “You’ve thought of everything.  What could I possibly need?”