way.”
As if she didn’t know.
“Kayla Fryburger.” She waited for him to make a crack about her
name. Almost everybody did.
“Okay, Kayla,” he said, “now that we’ve established you’re out
of high school—”
“ Years out of high school,” she
interrupted.
“Many, many years out of high school,” he said with the smile
still in place. “That must mean you’re not just helping out over the
holidays?”
“I work here,” she verified. “I’m Unc— I mean, Mr. Dexter’s
assistant.”
“Is that right?” He nodded. In light-colored slacks and an
off-white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he appeared cool and confident. If
he bottled some of that confidence and sold it, she’d be first in line.
“It is.” She tried to remember what Uncle Carl said to
potential clients. “Tell me what brings you here today.”
“I’d like to tell both you and Carl,” Alex said. “He’s a friend
of mine. Is he around?”
It figured Alex knew her uncle. The local business community
wasn’t terribly extensive. But apparently Key West was big enough that the man
she’d been swooning over for years hadn’t noticed her. “No, I’m sorry. He’s in
Chicago until December 27.”
Alex grimaced and sucked in a breath. “That’s not good news. I
need to hire somebody today.”
Kayla’s heartbeat sped up. “You can hire me.”
He looked dubious. “I thought you assisted.”
“That’s right.” Assisting was all she’d ever done. “But I can
do more than assist. I can take on a case. That’s why I’m here in the office.
I’m ready and willful. Uh, I meant ready and willing.”
She shut up. She sounded like a total amateur, which she was.
It would be best if he didn’t know that, though.
Alex scratched his smoothly shaved jaw. “Perhaps I should tell
you why I’m here and we can go from there.”
“Sounds good.” She tried to contain the excitement coursing
through her. “Go ahead.”
“Can we sit down?” he asked.
“Sure. Come this way.” She led him to her uncle’s office and
got behind the big desk. Uncle Carl was a large man, more than a foot taller
than she was. The desk seemed to swallow her so that she felt like a little girl
playing house.
To compensate, she said in her most professional voice, “Please
proceed.”
“Have you seen this?” He was holding a rolled-up newspaper,
which he unfolded and handed to her.
It was a copy of the Key West Sun. The headline above the fold read “Baring It All.” The story was about a
councilman proposing a referendum to allow nude sunbathing along a narrow strip
of beach, a move championed by naturists who embraced the anything-goes Key West
culture.
“I have seen it and I’m for it.” Kayla grimaced as it occurred
to her how he could misconstrue her support. “Not that I would sunbathe naked. I
mean, I would if nobody was around. It’s not like I’m a prude or anything.
Although I’m not an exhibitionist. Not that I’m saying these people are.”
She had to press her lips together to stop her stream of words.
Why couldn’t she stop talking?
“Not that story.” He leaned across the desk and pointed to a
photo below the fold. “That.”
She’d seen the life-size fiberglass Santa that was pictured at
the intersection of Duval Street and U.S. 1. He held a fistful of money in one
hand. In his other was a sign that said “’Tis the Season to Spend in Key West.”
Someone had painted the statue’s face white and added black rings around its
eyes and red streaks trickling from its mouth. “Zombie Santa,” the caption
read.
Kayla giggled, covering her mouth to stop it from becoming an
unladylike guffaw.
“That reaction is exactly why I’m here,” Alex said. “As a
representative of the Key West Merchants Association, I’m authorized to hire a
private investigator to save our group from further embarrassment. So far a
prankster has dressed Santa like the Grinch and now a zombie.”
“Somebody has a sense of
As if she didn’t know.
“Kayla Fryburger.” She waited for him to make a crack about her
name. Almost everybody did.
“Okay, Kayla,” he said, “now that we’ve established you’re out
of high school—”
“ Years out of high school,” she
interrupted.
“Many, many years out of high school,” he said with the smile
still in place. “That must mean you’re not just helping out over the
holidays?”
“I work here,” she verified. “I’m Unc— I mean, Mr. Dexter’s
assistant.”
“Is that right?” He nodded. In light-colored slacks and an
off-white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he appeared cool and confident. If
he bottled some of that confidence and sold it, she’d be first in line.
“It is.” She tried to remember what Uncle Carl said to
potential clients. “Tell me what brings you here today.”
“I’d like to tell both you and Carl,” Alex said. “He’s a friend
of mine. Is he around?”
It figured Alex knew her uncle. The local business community
wasn’t terribly extensive. But apparently Key West was big enough that the man
she’d been swooning over for years hadn’t noticed her. “No, I’m sorry. He’s in
Chicago until December 27.”
Alex grimaced and sucked in a breath. “That’s not good news. I
need to hire somebody today.”
Kayla’s heartbeat sped up. “You can hire me.”
He looked dubious. “I thought you assisted.”
“That’s right.” Assisting was all she’d ever done. “But I can
do more than assist. I can take on a case. That’s why I’m here in the office.
I’m ready and willful. Uh, I meant ready and willing.”
She shut up. She sounded like a total amateur, which she was.
It would be best if he didn’t know that, though.
Alex scratched his smoothly shaved jaw. “Perhaps I should tell
you why I’m here and we can go from there.”
“Sounds good.” She tried to contain the excitement coursing
through her. “Go ahead.”
“Can we sit down?” he asked.
“Sure. Come this way.” She led him to her uncle’s office and
got behind the big desk. Uncle Carl was a large man, more than a foot taller
than she was. The desk seemed to swallow her so that she felt like a little girl
playing house.
To compensate, she said in her most professional voice, “Please
proceed.”
“Have you seen this?” He was holding a rolled-up newspaper,
which he unfolded and handed to her.
It was a copy of the Key West Sun. The headline above the fold read “Baring It All.” The story was about a
councilman proposing a referendum to allow nude sunbathing along a narrow strip
of beach, a move championed by naturists who embraced the anything-goes Key West
culture.
“I have seen it and I’m for it.” Kayla grimaced as it occurred
to her how he could misconstrue her support. “Not that I would sunbathe naked. I
mean, I would if nobody was around. It’s not like I’m a prude or anything.
Although I’m not an exhibitionist. Not that I’m saying these people are.”
She had to press her lips together to stop her stream of words.
Why couldn’t she stop talking?
“Not that story.” He leaned across the desk and pointed to a
photo below the fold. “That.”
She’d seen the life-size fiberglass Santa that was pictured at
the intersection of Duval Street and U.S. 1. He held a fistful of money in one
hand. In his other was a sign that said “’Tis the Season to Spend in Key West.”
Someone had painted the statue’s face white and added black rings around its
eyes and red streaks trickling from its mouth. “Zombie Santa,” the caption
read.
Kayla giggled, covering her mouth to stop it from becoming an
unladylike guffaw.
“That reaction is exactly why I’m here,” Alex said. “As a
representative of the Key West Merchants Association, I’m authorized to hire a
private investigator to save our group from further embarrassment. So far a
prankster has dressed Santa like the Grinch and now a zombie.”
“Somebody has a sense of
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