Free The Last Resort (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner

eyes.
    “Anyway,” I hurried on, “Craig and I get along better now that we’re not together. I’m not invested in being angry at him anymore. And he’s been a good friend to me too. I—”
    My explanation was cut short by the sound of running feet and squealing laughter. Nikki Martin came galloping down the path in front of us. Jack was pounding after her, pretending to be a motorcycle. He clutched imaginary handles and made revving noises.
    “Varoom, varoom!” he roared. “I’m coming to get you.”
    This brought renewed squeals of delight from Nikki. Jack revved up again. Varoom! Varoom! Nikki ran a few more steps, then turned back for a peek at Jack. That peek cost her her advantage. Jack leapt forward and caught her. He threw his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. She struggled and he fell to the ground, carrying her down on top of him. Cocoa-brown limbs and beige, freckled ones flailed. Then, in a flurry of movement, Nikki had Jack’s arms pinned to the ground above his head.
    “Help, help!” he screamed in falsetto voice. “She’s got me.”
    “That’s right. Beg for mercy, you fiend,” she replied, her voice deep with melodramatic menace.
    “Ooh. Mercy! Mercy!” he begged in piteous tones, while ogling her lasciviously.
    His words and lecherous expression brought renewed shrieks of laughter from Nikki and an immediate reversal of their positions. Now Jack was on top.
    I smiled as I watched them romp. If they didn’t mind exhibiting their passion, I wasn’t going to deny myself a little voyeuristic pleasure. I remembered Don Logan next to me and turned to see his reaction.
    Logan wasn’t smiling. His eyes were narrow with disgust. He shook his head.
    “Drugs,” he grunted.
    Drugs? Jack and Nikki? I would have guessed natural exuberance. Maybe a little alcohol. Was Logan right?
    I turned back to see Jack plant a big kiss on Nikki’s nose. She stopped struggling. Then he licked her face. She shrieked again and gave Jack’s chest a violent shove. He tumbled off her, laughing. Then he was up and running again, with Nikki trailing behind him, shaking her fist.
    “You’ll pay for that, Jack Ireland,” she shouted.
    I heard a click followed by a whir at my side. Don Logan was heading down the ramp that led off the porch. He doffed his cowboy hat to me at the bottom of the ramp. “Nice talking to you,” he said.
    I waved goodbye to him with a “see you later” and turned back to see Jack and Nikki disappear around the corner of one of the dilapidated stucco buildings.
    Don Logan and I hadn’t been the only ones watching the show. Fran’s son, Paul, stood mesmerized under one of the orange trees. Once Jack and Nikki were gone, he turned on his heel angrily and ran off, his still-untied shoelaces dragging in the dirt.
    Poor kid. The scene had to have churned up his adolescent hormones. It had even given my middle-aged ones a goose.
    I shook my head to clear it of those hormones and sat back down on the redwood bench. Ready to think. Had I learned anything yet that might pinpoint Suzanne’s murderer? I wished I knew what had killed her. But I didn’t. I went back to the suspects. Suzanne had come on to Jack. That had to have made Nikki mad. Or did it have to? I could still see Nikki’s perfect face and body in my mind. Nikki was beautiful enough to hold her own against any encroaching woman.
    Avery Haskell was secretive, for whatever that was worth. Bradley Beaumont was nuts and Suzanne had scorned him. And Fran’s adoration of Bradley seemed almost as unbalanced as Bradley himself. But given all of that, where was the motive for murder?
    I heard feet shuffling up the dirt path. Paul Beaumont. The boy scowled as he climbed the porch stairs and entered the building. Plenty of adolescent rage there. And I had felt an unhealthy frisson of anger from Don Logan too while he was watching Jack and Nikki. But so what? I smacked my palm on the bench in frustration. If I was Chief Orlandi,