Mahu Surfer by Neil Plakcy Page A

someone as nice as Brad, but I had a role to play, and I knew that the better I played it, the more chance I would have of finding out information that could lead me to Lucie Zamora’s killer.
     
    “I’m sure the local guys did their best,” I said, finally. “They probably just haven’t released any results yet.” I put my hand to my cheek, a thinking gesture. “They must have talked to you, didn’t they?”
     
    He shook his head again. “Nope. And I mean, I wouldn’t say I was her closest friend, but, well, she was in here almost every week buying something. I knew her tastes almost as well as my own.”
     
    “She liked her labels,” I said, putting on what I hoped was a weary smile.
     
    “Absolutely. Armani was like her god. Manolo for shoes. Coach for purses and belts. I mean, I could go on and on.” He waved his arm around the store, encompassing all the expensive labels around us. Each designer had a niche, I noted, with just a few examples of each style. Soft lighting highlighted the three-way mirrors in the corners.
     
    “I’m surprised. I never saw her name in the money at tournaments,” I said. “I didn’t realize she had the money for such expensive clothes. She have a sugar daddy somewhere?”
     
    Brad shook his head. “I don’t think so. Most of our customers—the ones with the rich husbands or daddies—use plastic. But our Lucie was a cash basis customer, even though sometimes she’d spend a thousand dollars on a dress. She said she’d gotten in trouble with credit cards once, so she didn’t buy anything she didn’t have the cash for.” He smiled. “But there wasn’t much she couldn’t buy, I’ll tell you.”
     
    “It must have been strange to you, taking in so much cash at once.”
     
    Brad leaned back against his chair, looked around at the empty shop, and then back at me. “Well, between you and me and the lamppost, at first I thought she was somebody’s mistress. You know, she had a body that wouldn’t quit, and she liked to show it off. But she wasn’t much into sexy lingerie.”
     
    I let my voice catch. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
     
    He pushed out of the chair, squatted down next to me and took my hand. “You poor thing, you must be devastated,” he said. “I mean, to find out your only friend in town was murdered!”
     
    “It’s a shock.” I caught my breath, and then sighed.
     
    Brad nodded. “All her friends felt that way.”
     
    A bell started ringing in my head. “You knew her other friends?”
     
    “Well, more like she knew my friends.” Brad stood up and walked over to the cash wrap. It looked like he was getting ready to close up. “I know this group of guys, and they all got to know her and like her.” He looked up at me sadly. “I guess that’s almost the same as having friends.”
     
    “Do you think I could, maybe, meet some of your friends?”
     
    Using this guy who had been so nice to me was making me feel more and more like crap, but I needed some insight into this case, and if his friends could help me get to know Lucie better, then I would do what I had to do.
     
    “I’m just going to meet them once I close up,” Brad said.
     
    Though I really wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and rest after a day’s hard surfing, I said, “Do you think I could kind of tag along? Like I said, I really don’t know anyone else up here.”
     
    Brad looked me up and down, hands on hips. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you could use a little cleaning up before you go out in polite society.”
     
    “I’ve got a room at the Hibiscus House. I could swing past there, clean up, and meet you wherever you want.” Finally, an emotion I didn’t have to feign; the eagerness I was showing was how I really felt.
     
    “I’ll follow you there.” He locked the door, and shooed me toward my truck. “You need serious help, mister, and looking at you, I know you’re not going to find it in your room at the