Peril in Pensacola
Peril in Pensacola
Accidentally Undercover Mysteries - Book 1
Lucy Quinn
Contents
About this Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
Also by Lucy Quinn
Copyright © 2019 by Lucy Quinn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover by Lewellen Designs
Editing by Angie Ramey
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About this Book
Peril in Pensacola
Accidentally Undercover Mysteries - Book 1
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Dora Winslow is having a hard day. Not only does she stumble upon a money laundering scheme, but the next thing she knows her boss is dead. As the prime suspect for his murder, she goes to Brian, a police officer she trusts. She soon learns things aren’t adding up because Brian’s got a mysterious scheme of his own.
With her best friend, Evie by her side, Dora is on the run. But before they can leave town to secure the evidence that could clear her name, she has to bring Brian down. With help from a hot chef, a friendly mailman, and a little white dog, Dora and Evie must balance the scales to save their bottom line.
1
Dora Winslow crunched on a raw broccoli floret as she frowned at the spreadsheet before her. Landing a job as an accountant for Two to Mango, a popular Florida restaurant chain, was like a dream come true, especially when she discovered her office would be located on the top floor of the Asian fusion restaurant on the main strip of Pensacola Beach.
But the icing on the cake was that when she opened her window, the cool ocean breeze often wafted in, followed by the sound of the crashing waves on the powdery white sand of the beach. Although at the moment it was too hot for that, and she was enjoying the chill of the air-conditioning instead. What she hadn’t planned on was what having delicious food just two flights below her office would do to her waistline.
A carrot gave an unsatisfying snap as she bit it, and she wished she was eating the crisp, lightly-fried calamari with mango dipping sauce the restaurant was famous for. Her frown became a full-fledged scowl as she puzzled over why the Pensacola location’s marketing budget was more than ten times higher than the other restaurants in the chain.
The chain was owned by Steve Franklin, and his son Marco was the manager of the Pensacola location. Dora was used to Marco having more perks than the other managers. He was the kind of guy who led a flashy lifestyle and who didn’t like to take no for an answer. Fortunately for Dora, her hair was too brown and her figure too average to capture his attention, but it explained why his expense account was more lenient than his counterparts.
Even so, the nepotism didn’t explain Marco’s unusually large marketing budget, and Dora’s thoughts headed into criminal territory when she recalled an accounting conference session on how to spot money laundering in the service industry. It was what prompted her to want to dig further.
She considered sharing with her boss the troubling news about his son. Steve was a man whose ambition Dora respected. His success was an inspiring American-dream story of a boy who went from washing dishes to help his family get by to becoming a restaurant mogul in the state of Florida. But Steve also had a temper, and imagining how he would react to finding out his son was involved in something like a money laundering scheme broke her heart, and Dora wanted to be absolutely sure she had her facts straight before she did anything.
Her veggie plate scraped across her desk as she pushed it aside. What she needed was more information, and she knew how to get it. Marco’s office was two doors down, giving her easy access to his computer. Dora could smell the odor of onions cooking just like every late afternoon before Two to Mango opened for dinner, and she knew Marco would be down on the dining room floor for the next few hours, leaving her plenty of time to do some investigating.
Her practical ballet flats padded softly over the hallway carpeting as Dora made her way to Marco’s office and let herself in. The scent of his overbearing cologne lingered in the air, making her crinkle her nose as she seated herself in his chair and opened his laptop. The moment the screen lit up she sighed. His computer was password protected, but Dora was not one to give up easily. She tried a few combinations that came to her, like his birthday, his mother’s maiden name, and even his vanity license plate which read HOTSTUF. She was drawing a blank, but she knew someone who could probably spout off ideas until she lost her voice.
Dora grabbed her phone to call Evie, her polar opposite in so many ways, but also her lifelong best friend. Evie didn’t answer with hello, instead saying, “Calling me during office hours? Tell me you’re sampling drinks for the new menu, and I’ll be right there.”
Dora smiled at her friend’s eternal happiness. She was definitely Dora’s sun on the dark days, and she was thankful to have such a friend. “I wish, Evie.” She picked up a pen from Marco’s desk and rolled it between her fingers. “I need some help. Hypothetically, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Say someone wanted to figure out a password for a certain restaurant manager who drives a black BMW convertible.”
“You mean Marco?” Evie asked.
“Yes. A guy like him.”
“Start with boobs.”
“Boobs?” Dora asked skeptically, but her fingers were already moving on the keyboard.
“Trust me. It’s the only thing he sees,” Evie said, and Dora chuckled because her friend was right. Whenever Marco saw Evie, he’d home in on her sizeable breasts. Evie made a hmm sound, indicating she was thinking. “Try boobs, one. Or boobs one, two or—wait. How about boobs to mango? Boobs to touch?”
“My god, who are you, Evie?” Dora asked, amazed at her friend’s imagination. The keys were clicking with the flurry of Dora’s fast fingers as Evie continued to spit out password options. But nothing was working until Evie said, “Boobs for me using the number four.”
“Boobs4me,” Dora repeated as she typed. The password box disappeared. “I’m in!”
“Hypothetically,” Evie reminded her.
“Right,” Dora said as she brought up the list of Marco’s folders.
“I’m a hypothetical genius. You should probably bring me an order of crab cakes when you get out of work. I’m feeling the need for margarita Tuesday.”
Dora was only half listening as she noticed a series of files that began with the words Washing Machine. She corrected her friend, who didn’t always have a handle on life’s little details. “Evie, it’s Thursday.”
“Goodie! Only two days until my birthday. This is perfect. You can get snookered with me tonight to celebrate and tomorrow give casual F
riday new meaning.”
Dora ignored her friend’s suggestion of showing up to work hungover the next day. Even if it was Evie’s milestone thirtieth birthday. She knew whatever they did for Evie would set the precedent for her thirtieth that would follow two months later. “Holy …” Dora’s jaw dropped when she clicked on the file named Washing Machine1 and discovered a ledger for a sleazy adult book store in town. One that showed a whole lot of cash coming in. Unless dildos had become as expensive as designer handbags and shoes, there was no way the business could be having the kind of volume she was seeing. “Evie, I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t forget my crab cakes!”
Dora didn’t bother to reply before she hung up. They both knew that not only would she show up for margarita Tuesday on a Thursday, she’d bring Evie her crab cakes too. She moved on to the next Washing Machine folder, not the least bit amused by Marco’s attempt at humor, to find he was also cooking the books at a strip club, an hourly rate motel, an alligator park, and a dive bar.
Her stomach rolled with her recently consumed crudité, and she pulled open a desk drawer in search of one of the flash drives bearing the restaurant logo that someone had ordered in bulk as swag a few years ago. Clicking the orange device into the laptop, she proceeded to download the Washing Machine folders onto it.
As she waited, she wondered how best to inform Steve of his son’s crimes. Family could be tricky, and she knew that Steve didn’t see Marco the way others did. He was proud of his son, and she’d need to be careful how she approached the sticky situation.
When the files finished downloading, Dora closed Marco’s laptop and left to go back to her office. She’d only taken a few steps before she heard the thudding steps of someone coming down the hallway behind her. She closed her fist tight around the thumb drive as her heart began to beat faster. There were three options as to who was behind her: Lindy, the older woman who was the executive assistant; Marco, who was busy in the restaurant; or Steve.
Dora scurried into her office and quickly sat at her desk just before Steve came in. She glanced up at him and tried her best to give him a casual, “Hey,” as if she’d been sitting there the whole time.
Not only did Steve not buy her attempt at appearing unfazed by his presence, but his eyes were narrowed as if he was more than concerned. “Were you just in Marco’s office?” he asked.
Dora felt her cheeks begin to heat with the shame of being chided. It wasn’t an emotion she’d ever felt with Steve, although she’d certainly seen his wrath demonstrated to careless restaurant staff or to Lindy when she’d made a mistake.
But Dora didn’t make mistakes. In fact, she’d been Steve’s darling since the first week she’d started work and waltzed into his office to present the man with significant new tax deductions she’d found.
Dora wasn’t sure why he would be annoyed with her for being in Marco’s office, but seeing his anger directed toward her for the first time shook Dora’s belief that she was invincible. He definitely wasn’t going to take it well when she told him about Marco’s schemes, and suddenly she was certain she needed hide what she’d done. She grabbed the open padded envelope sitting on her desk that she’d been preparing to send to Evie. Her friend loved getting packages, so Dora made it a point to send her one on her birthday every year to help make the day special. She slipped her hand into the bubble mailer, pretending to smooth out the tissue paper-wrapped scarf, and deposited the thumb drive as she mustered the calmest voice she could manage. “I was in Marco’s office,” she admitted to Steve.
“What for?”
Dora’s hands shook a little as she peeled the tape off the sticky section of the envelope and sealed it, but not because she was afraid. She was upset that he’d assumed she was up to no good. She looked right into Steve’s eyes to challenge him back. Even though she hated to be wrong or make someone unhappy with her, she hated criminal behavior more. And she realized she was going to have to tell the man the truth no matter what his reaction might be.
Dora stood up and placed her palms on her desk. “I was looking for his marketing budget. My records show that it’s ten times that of the other restaurants, and I wanted to see his version to make sure I had my numbers right.”
A soft knock on her open door made both of them turn their attention to Lindy. “I’m leaving for the day. Did you want me to mail Evie’s present for you?”
Lindy drove by the post office to get home each day, and she often took mail with her when she left work. Dora gave her a bigger smile than usual and grabbed the package to hand it to the older woman. “Thank you, Lindy. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. See you both tomorrow,” she said in a cheerful voice.
The woman’s quick retreat told Dora she also knew Steve wasn’t happy. When she saw a muscle twitch along her boss’s jaw, the confidence Dora had felt about correcting a wrong slipped away, and the icy fingers of fear tripped down her spine.
“You think my son is stealing?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
Steve raised his eyebrows at her in a way that made Dora think he didn’t believe a word she’d said. It occurred to her that he was acting a lot like someone who had something to hide and that he had no intention of letting Dora find it. She had a feeling her weekend was about to start early.
2
Evie Grant hummed to herself as she flipped through an In Style magazine. Her latest job at Price Dry Cleaners was perfect for catching up on the latest trends. Perched on the counter while waiting for a customer, she bounced her foot to the beat of the song playing on the sound system. She paused for a moment to admire her shoes. She’d bought them with her last paycheck, leaving very little to pay her bills, but she knew she’d eventually catch up.
Evie twisted her foot back and forth to inspect the bright-yellow leather lace-up with a chunky heel and a white wing-tip design similar to the classic men’s shoe style. Paired with her daisy print sundress that had a flouncy skirt, she was a modern version of a nineteen-fifties pin-up girl. Although, instead of the hair sprayed version of an updo, she had a pile of messy blond curls on her head with a few strands refusing to behave.
The bell on the door made Evie hop off the counter to assist the young woman who had come in. Evie let out a small noise of disapproval at the girl’s outfit. While the customer was young enough to pull off the short dress that clung to every dip and valley of her body, she had a winter-palette skin tone and was wearing an autumn color.
“Honey,” Evie said as she shook her head. She waved her hand as if she was scanning the woman’s body with it. “Great dress, but a true red would be a much better color for you than salmon orange.”
“What?” The girl glanced down at her body. “But it’s my favorite color.”
“And a great one to love,” Evie said. “But it does nothing for your complexion.” She did understand how hard it was to give up on a favorite thing, so Evie smiled and added, “Save it for your accessories. Imagine a tangerine clutch and shoes with navy blue. Divine!” she exclaimed, quite pleased with her sudden burst of brilliance. “But trust me on this; no more orange near your face, got it?”
The girl smiled. “Okay.” Then she frowned. “But what should I do with this dress?”
Evie smiled back. “Size four?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’d fit me.” Evie held up her palm. “Or you could give it to Goodwill. Either one works.” She then tilted her head as she got to business. “Name for the pickup?”
“Danvers,” the girl said, and items clattered on the counter as she emptied her purse searching for something.
Evie clicked the conveyor button on, and the machine hummed as she rotated the Ds forward. She riffled through the bags until she found an order for Danvers. “Carrie?” she asked reading off the name on the ticket. She noticed the girl was checking herself out in a compact mirror.
“Yes,” said the girl.
The hangers clacke
d on a metal hang bar by the register when Evie hung the girl’s clothing, and she entered the amount due into the register. “Cash or charge? Cash gets you a discount,” she said as she’d been trained to do with every customer who didn’t look like they were a lawyer or the police. Apparently, that statement raised red flags for an audit according to her boss, Fred.
After Carrie paid, she tore the plastic wrap off her order and tugged a green dress off a hanger. She held the garment up to her chest and asked, “What about this one?”
“Fabulous. You’re a winter, so true jewel tones are totally you.”
Carrie grinned. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure, it’s right over here,” Evie said as she let her behind the counter. “You’re going to love how that color combined with your dark hair is really going to make your skin glow.”
Less than a minute later, Carrie emerged from the restroom and handed Evie the orange dress. “You were right. I Iook so much better in this color.”
“You really do.”
Carrie impulsively stepped forward and hugged Evie. “Thank you.”
“Happy to help.” Evie chuckled as the girl released her, and satisfaction filled her with a warm glow when Carrie left looking better than she had when she’d come into the cleaners.
“I love this job,” Evie said as she held out her new acquisition to inspect it. And she discovered not only had she scored a new dress, but it was an Alexander McQueen, which cost a small fortune and was more than her credit card could hope to handle. She let out a squeal. Evie knew just what she was wearing to margarita Tuesday on this Thursday night.