Beach Bags and Burglaries (A Haley Randolph Mystery) by Dorothy Howell Page B

near mine in the employee dorm, so we’d see each other and talk.”
    Shane seemed to drift off into thought, probably remembering those good times he’d shared with Jaslyn. But I didn’t have time for his stroll down memory lane. I had a murder to solve and, thus, a wedding to avoid.
    “So who was Jaslyn dating?” I asked.
    His expression hardened. “A real bastard. Gabe Braxton. Works maintenance.”
    Shane glanced behind him at two couples who’d just taken seats at the bar, then turned to me again.
    “Tell your friend Sandy to watch out for that guy,” he said, nodding toward the dance floor.
    His comment totally threw me.
    “Sebastian?” I asked. “Why?”
    “He’s trouble,” Shane said.
    Oh, crap.

C HAPTER 9
    “S o what happened last night?” Marcie asked.
    The four of us were seated at yet another of the resort’s outdoor patio dining areas, finishing breakfast. The day was gorgeous, of course, since this was Southern California; people from back East often claimed that we have no seasons here, but we do—just not the crappy ones.
    We were all dressed in our resort wear shorts, capris, tees, and tanks, each outfit fully accessorized, of course. Bella had fashioned her hair into the shape of a starfish, continuing her tropical theme.
    Sandy giggled. “You mean with Sebastian?”
    “Hell, yeah,” Bella said. “It’s not like any of us are getting any action at this place.”
    “We had a great time,” Sandy reported, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “We walked on the beach and talked for hours.”
    “Really?” Bella asked. “That’s it? ”
    “He was a perfect gentleman,” Sandy said.
    “Damn ...” Bella muttered.
    “Tell us about him,” Marcie said.
    “He’s so nice,” Sandy said. “He asked about me. You know, where I was from, where I worked, what I liked. And he even asked about all of you. He wanted to know everything about me and my friends.”
    Okay, that was weird. A guy who was actually interested enough to ask questions and not just blab on about himself?
    “Did he actually listen to what you said?” Marcie asked.
    I could see that she and I were thinking the same thing.
    “Oh, yes,” Sandy told us. “He listened. He asked follow-up questions and everything.”
    My spirits lifted, thinking maybe Sandy had found a guy who was really nice and would treat her decently, and I was glad that I’d practically put the smack-down on her to dance with him last night.
    “What does he do here at the resort?” I asked.
    “He’s a consultant,” Sandy said.
    “What kind of consultant?” I asked.
    Her brows pulled together. “I don’t think he said. But he’s very successful. He owns his own firm.”
    Okay, now I wasn’t feeling so great about insisting that Sandy get involved with Sebastian.
    “He’s from Connecticut, and he’s rich,” Sandy said. “His whole family is rich.”
    Now I really wasn’t feeling great about sticking my nose in.
    “He told you that?” Marcie asked.
    “Well, kind of,” Sandy said. “He told me his whole name. It’s Sebastian Cannon Lane. Who would give their baby that kind of name if they weren’t rich?”
    She had a point.
    I’d guessed Sebastian’s age at early twenties, and that seemed young for him to own a consulting business. But Ty wasn’t even thirty when he’d taken over the reins of the Holt’s Department Store chain after his dad fell ill, so I guess it wasn’t a big stretch to think that Sebastian headed up a consulting firm. Maybe his family really was rich and he’d used his trust fund to get the business started.
    “I’m having an art lesson this morning. Sebastian called last night and got me scheduled,” Sandy announced. “I’ve never had an art lesson before. I can’t wait. I’m actually going to meet Colby Rowan.”
    “She’s Sidney Rowan’s daughter, right?” Marcie asked. “The one who got into legal trouble?”
    “She’s like a celebrity, almost,” Sandy said.
    “You think