He shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “Nah. I just meant I usually vacation in less luxurious surroundings. Padre’s got a lot to offer, of course, which makes it so popular. Did you know there’s evidence that the Karankawa Indians wintered here more than four hundred years ago? Which means the island has always been seen as an ideal—”
Celia interrupted him with a groan. “Please. No more historical tidbits. My brain is already on overload with all these perfectly useless facts.”
“Like what?” Reed asked, smiling.
“The Port Isabel lighthouse was constructed in the 1850s and abandoned in 1905. The construction of Fort Brown in 1844—”
“Forty-six.”
“Thanks. In 1846, then, precipitated the beginning of the U.S.–Mexican War. The last land engagement of the Civil War was fought at Palmito Ranch near Brownsville, a month after Lee’s surrender. The battle was won by Confederates who didn’t know the war was already over, and afterward the victors became the captives of their former prisoners. That was sort of interesting, actually.”
“I thought so,” Reed murmured, his voice underlaced with amusement.
“I know you did. You just ate that stuff up, didn’t you? I bet you made all As in history in school.”
“Yeah, but don’t ask about my grades in composition and literature.”
“I was good at math and sciences, but history always put me to sleep.”
“Then you had the wrong teachers.”
“Maybe I did,” she agreed, smiling at him. “You made it very interesting this afternoon. Maybe you should have been a history teacher instead of a tax accountant.”
Reed’s smile seemed to fade in the shadows. Before Celia could decide why, he shrugged and said lightly, “I thought about it. Then something more interesting came up.”
Celia lifted her head again. “Tax accounting is more interesting than teaching?”
He cleared his throat. “At times. Are you hungry?”
It took her a moment to switch gears. It had been several hours since they’d indulged in the burgers and shakes. Even now, she shouldn’t be hungry—but she discovered that she was. “Now that you mention it, I am rather hungry,” she said. “It’s hard to believe after all we ate this afternoon, but I could eat again.”
“So could I. Will you join me for a late dinner in the resort restaurant?”
“I’d like that.”
“Should we change first?”
Celia hesitated, thought about how grubby and windblown she felt after a day of sightseeing in a convertible, and nodded. “I’ll make it quick. Meet you in the restaurant lobby in, say, half an hour?”
“You’ve got a date.”
Celia swallowed in response to his wording. She hadn’t really thought of this as a date. For some reason it was easier to think of it as a friendly outing between two amiable acquaintances. She didn’t bother to correct him. It seemed better to just let it go.
Reed’s message light was flashing when he entered his room. His accommodations were nice, but much less luxurious than the suite Celia had been provided. He called the message desk, then dialed the number he’d been given, keeping one eye on the clock. He didn’t want to be late for his dinner date, he thought, as he listened to the faint buzz of the other phone ringing.
“Kyle Brown,” a familiar voice answered.
Reed didn’t bother to identify himself. “What’s up?”
“There’s been another delivery.”
Reed tensed. “Any leads?”
“Nothing new. All arrows still point to Alexander. Every major transaction we can trace during the past two years has taken place in an area where Alexander was conducting business. We’ve had two sources mention his name in anonymous tips. We have solid evidence implicating at least one of his employees. Rumor still has it there will be an important meeting on Padre Island sometime this week between Alexander and two of his current customers. Apparently, it was put off a few days because of the storm that damaged his resort in the Caribbean.”
“Leaving me cooling my heels here when I was expecting to be witness to the meeting two days ago,” Reed grumbled.
“As I said, there’s every reason to believe the meeting is still on when Alexander gets back there.”
“He’s due to return in a couple of days,” Reed said, repeating something Celia had casually mentioned during the afternoon.
“Yeah. Novotny’s discreetly making arrangements to be there.”
Reed felt the tension low in his neck, a sure sign that the case was nearing a resolution. All the major players were coming together, and he would be here when they gathered.
“The woman still there?”
Reed shoved a hand through his wind-tossed hair. “Yeah.”
“Keep an eye on her. She could be setting everything up on that end.”
“Or she knows nothing about any of this,” Reed cautioned.
“C’mon, Reed. We know she’s been seen several times talking to our suspects in her hometown. And she’s been photographed with Alexander on several occasions.”
“Dates, not meetings, as far as we know. As for her talking to the other suspects—well, it’s a small town. She’s lived there a long time, works in the town’s only bank. She probably knows everyone there. It could only be a coincidence that she’s been seen with our suspects.”
“Maybe.” Kyle sounded skeptical. “But you know how I feel about coincidences.”
“She’s spent the past few days taking walks and swimming and sightseeing. She’s hardly spoken to any of Alexander’s staff. No suspicious meetings. No mysterious disappearances. She claims she’s nothing more than a friend of the owner, here on a vacation.”
“If she’s nothing more than Alexander’s newest bed toy, why is she there now, when he’s not even in the country? Why would he want her hanging around when he’s about to set up a transaction of this magnitude?”
As much as Reed didn’t want to think of Celia being involved with Alexander’s unsavory sideline, he was even less enthused about hearing her referred to as a “bed toy.” He’d spent the whole afternoon with her, damn it. His instincts about people were usually directly on target. And all his instincts told him that Celia Carson was exactly what she appeared to be. Good-natured. Restless. A bit naive. Honest.
But—rare though it had been—he had been wrong before. “Damn,” he growled, wishing for a moment that he had become a history teacher.
“What’s the matter, Hollander? Don’t tell me you’re starting
