Murder at High Tide

by Lee Strauss

  Vivien’s death had left Rosa emotionally traumatized and had propelled her into Vivien’s brother Winston’s vortex. A romance birthed in crisis.

  As Aunt Louisa’s guest, Rosa could hardly defy her. “I want to go on record as saying that I protest at being coersed into this investigation.” She glared back at her Aunt Louisa, who appeared to regard Rosa with a surprised expression.

  Louisa’s mouth formed a tight line.

  Rosa leaned toward her aunt. “I came here intending to have a break from what has been a very stressful time. Frankly, Aunt Louisa, I’m disappointed that you talked to the mayor without my consent. Please don’t do anything like that again.” She paused there to let that sink in.

  The silence in the room roared like a freight train. Apparently, the three Hartigan women weren’t used to someone addressing Louisa Forrester in this manner.

  “Now,” Rosa began again slowly, “I do realize the gravity of this situation, so I will offer this: I’ll talk to Detective Belmonte tomorrow morning. I'm sure he will have heard from the mayor by then.” She shot her Aunt Louisa another disapproving look. “If I sense any hesitancy, any reticence at the prospect of my working with the police on this case, I will not even entertain the thought any further. Is that clear?”

  It took a moment for her aunt to respond. Finally, the corner of her mouth raised in a slight smile, and her eyes brightened with respect. “You are truly your mother’s daughter, young lady.”

  8

  As a concession, Aunt Louisa offered Rosa unlimited use of the Bel Air. Having first learned to drive in America, Rosa found that switching her reflexes to the right-hand side was, as Aunt Louisa liked to say, like riding a bike.

  She parked across from the Santa Bonita Police Department and took a moment to fortify herself, still not believing what she’d agreed to do, and quite certain she was about to make a fool of herself.

  The police station in Santa Bonita looked nothing like Scotland Yard, the metropolitan police headquarters in London. A much smaller, Spanish mission-style building, with a red clay-tile roof and white stucco exterior, had a cement walkway lined with palm trees that swayed in the warm breeze. The pleasant setting contrasted with the impending doom she felt as she walked to the front door.

  She took a deep, calming breath of the jasmine-scented air opened the glass door and stepped inside. The plump middle-aged lady at reception glanced up. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Rosa Reed and am here to see Detective Belmonte. I called earlier to arrange an appointment.”

  “Yes, he did mention he was expecting you.”

  The woman led Rosa down a hall and through a large room containing several cubicles where officers were tapping on typewriters, rustling papers, or talking on the telephone. It was a scene very familiar to Rosa.

  Miguel had a private office partitioned from the rest of the officer stations by a frosted-glass wall and a wood-veneer door which was opened wide. Through it, she saw him at his desk talking on the telephone. Seeing him for the first time in a shirt and tie in his position of detective made her breath catch in her throat. The last time she remembered feeling this sensation was when she’d first laid eyes on him in his soldier’s uniform.

  Winston had never had that effect on her. Poor Winston. Still, Rosa was sure she’d done the right thing by not marrying him. Her only regret was that it had taken too long for her to realize that he wasn’t the man for her.

  Miguel stilled when he spotted her, his eyes lingering for a moment. A smile came a second too late as he gestured for her to take a seat in the chair across from his desk.

  Like most detectives’ offices, this one was austere and efficient. Blinds on the window were closed against the mid-morning sun. Several metal filing cabinets lined the wall, and above Miguel’s desk hung a framed diploma from the Los Angeles Police Academy. Rosa idly looked for a picture of his fiancée, but Miguel didn’t have personal objects in view.

  “Sorry about that,” he said as he hung up the phone. He walked out from behind his desk.

  “Don’t apologize,” Rosa replied. “I’m grateful you made time to see me at such short notice. I know you’re busy right now.”

  “Yes, I am, but it’s nice to see you. Besides, it’s not often we get a visit from a foreign dignitary here at the Santa Bonita Police Department.”

  “Well, I’m not exactly the Queen, but I am quite famous, you know.” Rosa adopted a mock posh accent while batting her eyelashes and pretending to fluff the back of her hair with her left hand. “Well, at least my Aunt Louisa thinks so,” she quipped, which caused him to laugh.

  Why did he have to be so blasted easy to talk to? Rosa wished they could just have a pleasant social visit over drinks and dinner with an easy, satisfying conversation. Instead, she had to broach a subject she was loathe to get into. Might as well jump right in.

  “Miguel, I’m sorry about that phone call you got from the mayor’s office today.”

  “It was actually Police Chief John Delvecchio who received the call. But yes, I know all about it.”

  “Of course, well . . . as you know, my aunt can be quite obstinate and sometimes loses sight of propriety.”

  “Your aunt is an interesting woman.”

  “And very persuasive. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that, and I’m not keen to join any investigation whatsoever. I know that the case has now been labeled as suspicious, and that you and your team are more than capable of solving it. I’m afraid I would probably just get in the way.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  Rosa blinked back her surprise. She’d expected him to agree. In case he’d missed her point, she pressed on. “Furthermore, I am here on holiday, of sorts.” Rosa shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

  Miguel cocked his head as he leaned casually against his desk. “Of sorts?”

  “Yes, of sorts.” There was no way on God’s green earth she would ever tell him the real reason she’d come to California. “How am I going to relax and be part of a murder investigation at the same time? Honestly, I don’t know what my aunt was thinking.”

  Rosa was determined to make it easy for Miguel to reject her. Then she could go back to Aunt Louisa and say she’d tried but had been dismissed.

  “I want you on this case. The chief agrees with me.”

  Rosa stared back, stunned. “What?”

  “It’s up to you, of course. You have to decide what you want to do on your holiday-of-sorts. But for my part, I want this case solved quickly and accurately, and I’d be a fool to dismiss your offer to assist. Your reputation at Scotland Yard is stellar. Yes, we called.”

  “Oh,” was all Rosa could say.

  “We have a suspect being held, but there are many questions still unanswered.” Miguel rubbed the back of his neck. “This is a relatively small town, Rosa. Now, I’ve never been to England, but I know they drive on the wrong side of the road—”

  “The other side of the road,” Rosa interjected. “Not the wrong side.”

  Miguel’s lips twitched, and Rosa caught a glimpse of a dratted dimple.

  “Yes, right, and, for reasons unfathomable to me, they eat a lot of something called steak and kidney pie. But I’m afraid that’s where my knowledge ends. Experience has taught me, in towns like Santa Bonita, people tend to feed on their own drama. Help from someone with an objective perspective like you would be appreciated.” He folded his arms as though waiting for her response.

  Rosa was speechless. Not only was his response to Aunt Louisa’s intrusion unexpected, but also, she felt a disconcerting bubble of pleasure. The thought of working with Miguel tickled her belly. She stared back at him. “I hate steak and kidney pie.”

  Those adorable dimples made a full-on appearance. “Anyone with any sense would.”

  Rosa grinned back. “However, the Queen likes it. And she is quite sensible. She always wears sensible shoes.”

  Miguel chuckled. “I bet if my mother cooked her an
enchilada, the Queen of England would never look at steak and kidney pie again. No matter her footwear.”

  “That could be true,” Rosa returned, “but she’d still drive on the left side. Even a good enchilada wouldn’t change that.”

  Miguel nodded solemnly. “Other things, but not that.”

  Rosa had missed their cheeky back-and-forth banter. After all these years, the chemistry between them still flourished. It was reminiscent of the conversations her mother and father often had while discussing the day’s events over a glass of brandy at Hartigan House. As a teenager, Rosa had sometimes listened in on and even participated in those discussions, which often turned comedic. Witticism was a way to offset the seriousness of the cases they were involved in.

  Rosa realized suddenly, this was what had been missing with Winston. She felt happy yet profoundly sad.

  Locking eyes with Miguel, she said, “Are you sure you want me on this case?”

  Miguel’s demeanor changed. He wasn’t joking anymore. “Absolutely.”

  9

  Rosa thought for a moment and then said, “All right, if you’re sure. It is terribly magnanimous of you to allow an outsider to join you on the case. Many detectives would be threatened by that.”

  “I’ve seen too much to be threatened, and life is complicated enough without harboring petty insecurities.” Miguel walked around his desk and lowered himself into his rolling office chair. “Honestly, I think Chief Delvechio was all too happy at the prospect of having you onboard for this case. We’ve had some budget cuts recently, and we’re short on manpower.”

  “I see.” Rosa nodded playfully. “So, it’s more of a financial decision than a matter of my competence.”

  Miguel grinned. “Well, not as far as I’m concerned, but you’ll have to take that up with the boss. Can you start right now?”

  “I suppose I can.” She opened her purse to take out a notepad, but then realized she didn’t have one with her.

  “I have extras.” Miguel seemed to know what she was searching for. He reached into his desk and pulled out a new pocket-sized police notebook and handed it to her. “You’ll need your own pen. When it comes to my pens, I am very territorial.”

  “No problem.” Rosa proudly held up her favorite black Paper Mate Deluxe ballpoint pen.

  “If this was a Rory Calhoun Western movie,” Miguel added with a chuckle, “I’d deputize you and give you a large silver badge.”

  “Not necessary. A notepad will do.”

  “All right, then.” Miguel pushed his chair away from his desk and stood. “You’re now officially on this case as a special consultant to the Santa Bonita Police Department. Welcome.” He reached for his straw fedora and placed it on his head. “Now, let’s go.”

  “What? Wait. Where are we going?” Rosa closed her handbag and got to her feet.

  “As nice as it would be to sit and chat over tea and biscuits like I hear you do in London, we have a case to solve. I’m just about to head over to the morgue to talk to Dr. Rayburn. You’ll come?”

  “Of course.”

  They left the rear exit of the building, and Miguel strode to a police cruiser. With white doors, black rounded hood, large circular headlights, and short black tail fins, it was a sharp contrast to its British white and powder-blue counterpart. Rosa recognized the car as the famous “police package” made by the Ford Motor Company. The cars were the envy of the Metropolitan Police Force who had nothing like them. The American police cruisers boasted specialized, more powerful engines, precise handling suspension, and much larger space in the boot or the “trunk” as the Americans called it—perfect for accommodating the bulky radio equipment.

  Rosa slid into the passenger side of the car, and Miguel pulled out of the lot and onto the street.

  “I know you have Shirley Philpott in for questioning,” Rosa said, diving right in with a few questions of her own. “So, I assume she’s your prime suspect. On what grounds?”

  Miguel turned inland off the main road. A band of impressive mountains framed the horizon, and Rosa remembered how much she’d missed seeing them.

  “She was actually released an hour ago,” Miguel replied. “We didn’t have enough to charge her. Yet.”

  “Did she tell you what she and her cousin argued about?”

  Miguel stopped at a traffic light. “She says Miss Adams was upset because she overhead some charity contributors talking about her role in the charity. That she didn’t do enough to deserve the financial draw she was taking as one of the administrators. Mrs. Philpott claims she was trying to calm her down.”

  Miguel paused to let Rosa catch up on writing notes, then continued. “We have an eyewitness who saw Florence Adams walking out onto the wharf, drink in hand, apparently looking somewhat inebriated at roughly fifteen minutes after seven. Shirley Philpott was seen by another witness walking out onto the pier five minutes later. That’s twenty minutes before the body was found, which makes Shirley Philpott the last person to have seen Miss Adams alive.”

  They’d reached the local hospital, a one-story, white stucco complex, and Miguel pulled into one of the parking spots. “At that time of day, the sun would be down, and it would’ve been nearly impossible to see the end of the pier from the beach. So, no-one actually saw Miss Adams’ fall.”

  “What does Shirley Philpott say about walking out on the wharf?” Rosa asked.

  “She says she went out to see how Miss Adams was doing and claims she was drunk and inconsolable, so Shirley came back to the party. However, we’ve got no witnesses who can confirm any part of this event.”

  “Most people were enjoying your Sinatra performance during that time.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Miguel said with a subtle smile. “One day, I’ll have to thank Mr. Sinatra for those great songs.”

  They exited the police cruiser, and Rosa followed Miguel to the hospital entrance. “Have you determined a motive for Mrs. Philpott?”

  “That’s a bit of a complicated story.” Miguel opened the glass door and allowed Rosa to step ahead. The lobby acted as a waiting room with chairs lining the walls and well-worn speckled linoleum on the floor. Miguel guided her down a corridor towards the back of the building.

  “Let me guess,” Rosa said quietly once they were out of earshot of bustling nurses and shuffling patients. “It involves a rich uncle who doesn’t like Melvin Philpott because of a ruling on a suicide case.”

  Miguel came to a stop and stared down at her with a look of astonishment. “How did you know that?”

  Rosa smirked and continued. “There’s also a will involved, along with the fact that Shirley Philpott could now be the sole beneficiary of a large amount of wealth due to Florence Adams’s death.”

  “If you have a crystal ball, then yes, I am threatened by you joining this case. That’s an unfair advantage! Santa Bonita Police Department might have a budget for one session with a tarot card reader, maybe, but not for a crystal ball. Those things aren’t cheap!”

  Rosa laughed. “No crystal ball. Just a slightly drunk, near-sighted bass player.”

  “Aha,” Miguel thought for a moment, then continued walking. “The gig at the American Legion last night. Mr. Mendez had one too many.”

  “Nicely done, Mr. Holmes.”

  “Raul does the accounting for William Lawrence, so that’s how he found out about all that. He brought it to my attention. I guess I should’ve told him to keep the information to himself.”

  Rosa understood. It was human nature to share gossip. “Okay, so we have motive and opportunity, but no means yet. Is that correct? Since Miss Adams didn’t drown, it means Mrs. Philpott didn’t push her off the pier.”

  “We are hoping test results from the lab will point to means,” Miguel replied.

  “Shirley Philpott is the Chief Medical Examiner’s wife. I’m guessing you haven’t let the media know about this?” Rosa tapped her notebook with her pen.

  “No, not yet. I’m hoping to avoid the press for now, but I
have already received several phone calls from local papers. They’ve all gotten the standard comments from me about it being too soon for details on the investigation.”

  “Have you found out who the mystery man is that I saw arguing with the victim at the foot of the stairs on the beach? He seemed very suspicious.”

  They reached a set of steel doors with a sign on one of them that read ”MORGUE”.

  “He’s a person of interest that we are looking for,” Miguel said. “No sign of him yet.”

  The first thing Rosa saw as they entered the Santa Bonita City Morgue was a sterile waiting room and two glass-walled offices. A nameplate on one was inscribed Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Melvin Philpott, and the other Dr. Larry Rayburn, Assistant Medical Examiner.

  A pretty nurse approached and smiled. “Hello, Detective.”

  “I’m looking for Dr. Rayburn.”

  “I’m afraid he’s stepped out for a moment. Would you like to make an appointment?”

  “Just let him know I’ve dropped by.”

  Miguel let the door close behind them as they stepped back into the corridor. “Forgive me for not introducing you. She’s an intern, and I’d rather keep certain things close to my chest for now.”

  Rosa understood. She was disappointed that the pathologist was unavailable but that didn’t keep her mind from dwelling on the case. She glanced down at her notebook and with a grimace brought up the next notation. “What do you know about Vanessa Forrester?”

  “The woman who found the body? Yes, I questioned her at the beach. She was quite distraught, but she claims to have seen nothing, and we have no reason to doubt that.”

  “You’re probably aware that she was once married to my cousin, Clarence.”

  Miguel caught her gaze and nodded. “And she’s the former daughter-in-law of your Aunt Louisa, who insisted you be brought on to this case.”