Murder at High Tide

by Lee Strauss

“His name is Diego.” Rosa put him down on the grass in the backyard of the Forrester mansion, and the kitten sniffed the surrounding area. Aunt Louisa and Grandma Sally were lounging by the pool, Aunt Louisa worshiping the sun, and Grandma Sally well-covered in umbrella shade.

  Gloria knelt to pet him. “He’s so sweet!”

  “Do you think you could be a dear and run into town to get some pet supplies?” Rosa asked. “I was on my bike when I found him.”

  “Sure. But first, I’ll get him a dish of milk. He looks pretty hungry.” Gloria ran back into the house.

  Louisa, her eyebrows furrowed behind her sunglasses, rose from her chair at the pool and glided over to Rosa. “What on God’s green earth is that?”

  Rosa had anticipated this kind of reaction from her aunt, but before Rosa could answer, Grandma Sally launched a commentary. “Louisa doesn’t like house pets. She lost one as child and never recovered.”

  “I wasn’t a child, mother. I was nineteen.”

  “And ready for a husband and children. I told you you’d forget about that cat if you had a baby. And I was right.”

  Louisa scowled at her mother, then redirected her angst at Rosa. “Don’t listen to the meanderings of an old know-it-all.”

  Grandma Sally’s grin grew smug, and Rosa was relieved when Señora Gomez stepped out of the sliding glass door. One thing Rosa knew about her relatives was that they never aired their dirty laundry in front of the staff.

  “Ooh, que lindo gatito!” She caught Rosa’s eye. “Can I hold him?”

  Rosa grinned. “Certainly.”

  Señora Gomez gently lifted Diego off the grass. “Where did you get him?”

  “I found him beside the bakery in a discarded box. I think he was abandoned.”

  Señora Gomez cradled Diego in her arms and covered him with kisses while he purred loudly. “Mi pobre pequeño querido. My poor little darling.”

  Gloria returned with a dish of milk and put it down on the ground. After Señora Gomez had placed Diego in front of the bowl, the cat hungrily lapped the milk.

  Aunt Louisa’s frown deepened.

  Thankfully, Gloria defused the bomb. “Look Mom, isn’t he cute? He must stay with us!”

  “I don’t remember granting permission for a pet in the house.” Aunt Louisa narrowed her eyes and stared pointedly at Rosa while holding a palm out in Grandma Sally’s direction. Grandma Sally’s mouth had opened to speak, but her daughter’s ultimate authority on all things family had caused her to shut it again.

  “Yes, well,” Rosa started, a sudden feeling of defiance rising in her chest. “There are one or two things that I don’t remember giving my okay on recently as well.”

  “Oh, phooey,” Aunt Louisa said with a toss of her bouffant. “You’re not still bothered by my chat with the mayor, are you?”

  Rosa lifted a brow. The truth? She wasn’t upset anymore and was quite enjoying the challenge.

  Resignation finally appeared in her aunt’s expression, and she tilted her chin toward Diego. “The creature can stay, but you should plan on taking it with you when you go back to England.”

  “Of course.” Whenever that was, Rosa thought as it suddenly dawned on her she wasn’t in any hurry to book that return ticket. For some reason, England seemed like a receding object in her rearview mirror.

  Aunt Louisa turned back to the pool.

  “Actually, Aunt Louisa, if you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you about your charity work with the Polio Foundation.”

  “Come join me at the pool,” her aunt said.

  “I’ll take Diego,” Gloria offered, then lifted the kitten.

  “I’ll bring you both some iced tea.” Señora Gomez went back inside while Rosa and Aunt Louisa sat at a glass patio table.

  Aunt Louisa’s lacy pink dress billowed in the breeze. She crossed her legs then tilted her head. “How is your investigation going?”

  Rosa jumped right in. “There was another murder this morning.”

  Aunt Louisa’s jaw dropped. “That’s a shock.”

  “The man’s name is Jason Brewster. Does that ring a bell?”

  Aunt Louisa’s gaze moved to the pool as she considered the question, then she shook her head. “No, I don’t think I’ve heard that name. Who is he?”

  “He’s an accountant in town, but the police also suspect he sold drugs. He was at the fundraiser.”

  Aunt Louisa tucked her chin. “What? Not as a guest, he wasn’t. I knew everyone on the list.”

  “His house is located up the beach from where the party was, so he could’ve just been a random person in a public place. The thing is, Aunt Louisa, I saw him arguing with Florence Adams not long before her body was found.”

  Señora Gomez arrived with two glasses of iced tea. Grateful for the refreshment, Rosa and her aunt both took a sip.

  Rosa continued. “Mr. Brewster was also at the scene of the crime, but he walked away when he saw me watching him.”

  Louisa clicked her tongue. “A drug dealer at my event. As if a murder isn’t bad enough.”

  “Aunt Louisa, did you know much about Florence’s personal life? Did she have a boyfriend? Was Jason Brewster her boyfriend?”

  “Flo had many boyfriends.”

  Red spots appeared on Aunt Louisa’s cheeks, and Rosa knew she’d hit a sore spot. Clarence had been one of those many boyfriends.

  “I’m afraid Flo’s reputation in that regard was in tatters,” Aunt Louisa said. “If it weren’t for her relationship to Shirley, I would have sent her packing.”

  Rosa waited, knowing that if the silence stretched out too long, Aunt Louisa might fill it. She was rewarded.

  “I’ve already told you about Flo’s tendency to drink too much, so I guess I am not totally surprised that she was somehow connected to this drug dealer.” She paused for a moment. “Do you think the two murders are connected?”

  “It’s possible. What was Florence Adams’ role in planning the charity event?” Rosa took out her notepad from her purse.

  “Mostly, the allocation of funds. We all voted on it, but she had a heavy influence on where the money was spent.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, there were campaigns to promote and support the new vaccines currently used to combat polio. The hospital in Santa Bonita is always in need of new equipment to treat the disease. In particular, the iron lung machines, although they cost more than they’re really worth, so we are not concentrating on those much anymore. There was an expansion of the children’s ward last year with more staff and equipment needed for polio rehabilitation.”

  “I see.” Rosa scribbled on her notepad and then looked up, “Who else is on the board?”

  “Shirley Philpott, of course. She helps with the promotion of our events. Then there’s Raul Mendez. He takes care of our accounting—”

  “How long has he been on the board?” Rosa took another sip of her drink.

  “Several years now. He lost a younger brother to polio a few years ago, but that was before I was with the charity. Rod Jeffers is on the board. I think you met him at the event. He’s a polio survivor.”

  “The man with the leg braces?”

  Aunt Louisa nodded. “He also helps with promotion of the events and is our liaison and spokesman to the press.” Louisa took a final sip of tea and pushed away from the table. “I am afraid I have a meeting this morning. We can talk later if you want.”

  Rosa smiled with appreciation. “You’ve been very helpful, thank you.”

  Aunt Louisa stepped away, paused, and looked over her shoulder. “I just want to say that I am relieved that you are on this case. I know you had reservations.”

  14

  Though Vanessa Forrester and Rosa had technically been related through marriage, her divorce to Clarence had been finalized, so Rosa felt assured that Vanessa wouldn’t feel very cousinly toward her. Having told Miguel that she’d do the interview, she knew she needed to get moving.

  Deciding that Gloria’s presence
would probably put Vanessa at ease and more willing to answer Rosa’s questions, Rosa approached her. “Gloria, I need to speak to Vanessa again about the case. Would you like to come along?”

  Gloria’s eyes brightened. “As part of your investigation? I could take notes. You know, maybe I should become a journalist!”

  “We don’t want to scare her,” Rosa said. “It would be best if you committed the conversation to memory and wrote up notes later.” Having notes to refer to would be a good thing, Rosa thought. Gloria could come in handy, after all.

  Gloria worked her lips. “You’re right, of course. It’s best if we act natural.”

  Rosa, delighted with Gloria’s enthusiasm, fought back the grin that edged its way to her lips. “Precisely.”

  Leaving Diego in Señora Gomez’s care, Rosa and Gloria took the Bel Air, with Gloria driving, to the north district of town. Gloria twisted the large knobs on the chrome-plated radio and gaily sang along with “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley and the Comets.

  “I love this group, don’t you?” Gloria’s smile was as bright as a clear summer day. “Their tunes make me want to dance.” She swayed her shoulders to emphasize the fact, causing Rosa to laugh out loud.

  Gloria parked in front of a modest apartment building on the corner of two quiet streets. Rosa couldn’t hold in her surprise. She’d imagined the wife of Clarence Forrester and the granddaughter of Aunt Louisa would live in something more substantial.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Gloria said, staring back at Rosa. “Mom adamantly insisted that Vanessa live with us despite their marriage problems.” Gloria grinned mockingly. “What would people think? It was bad enough that the word ‘divorce’ was even being mentioned aloud. Vanessa never took Mom’s threats seriously, and when she left, the Forrester money was shut off with no option for Vanessa ever to move back. I tried to reason with Vanessa, but she’s as stubborn as my mother. Vanessa now manages a shoe store to get by while Julie is in playschool.”

  When they approached the main door, Gloria pushed a button next to the name Forrester on the outdoor directory.

  “Hello?” The voice that came over the intercom seemed slightly out of breath.

  Gloria spoke loudly into the intercom. “Vanessa? It’s Gloria. I’m here with Rosa.”

  After a moment, a buzzer sounded, and Gloria pushed the glass entry door open.

  They took the elevator to the third floor and gently knocked on Vanessa’s door. Dressed in white exercise shorts and a cotton top that tied in a bow at the back of her neck, Vanessa wore her brown hair tied back into a ponytail. With intense brown eyes, she carefully regarded Rosa as she opened the door.

  “Pardon how I look. I was just doing some calisthenics in my front room.” Vanessa invited them into a small but comfortable-looking apartment. The living room, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke, had a window that offered a beautiful view of the surrounding neighborhood. An exercise mat and some small barbells next to it, lay on the vinyl floor.

  Vanessa invited them to sit at a small table situated in a dining area next to the kitchen.

  “Can I offer you a drink?” Vanessa said politely. “I have Coca-Cola in the fridge.”

  Feeling somewhat parched, Rosa accepted the offer. Gloria did the same. Vanessa opened a shoulder-high, single-door fridge, poured the bubbly beverage into three glasses, and carried all three in a triangular shape to the Formica-topped table.

  “I’m assuming you’re not here for a friendly visit.” She pulled up a speckled vinyl-covered chair for herself and nodded at Rosa. “We met briefly at the party the other day. Your accent is definitely not from around here.”

  “She’s my cousin from England,” Gloria said proudly.

  Rosa sipped her soda pop and set the glass on the table. Condensation ran in rivulets to create a wet ring. “I’m here on holiday.”

  “Of course, I’ve heard about you.” Vanessa crossed a bare leg. “Clarence says you’re a detective?”

  “She’s a WPC,” Gloria answered with a giggle. “That stands for Woman Police Constable.”

  Vanessa smirked. “Nice of the men to make the distinction.”

  Rosa ignored the jibe. “I’m part of the London Metropolitan Police Force. I’ve been asked to join the investigative team in Santa Bonita on the Florence Adams case.”

  Vanessa narrowed her gaze in Gloria’s direction. “How fab.”

  Rosa cocked her head, “Yes, I guess that’s . . . um . . . fab.” She pushed a stray strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  Vanessa pouted. “I was already questioned by Detective Belmonte. I don’t know what else I can add.”

  “I know, but sometimes it’s good to go into things a bit deeper after the fact.” Rosa jumped in. “How well did you know the victim?” She watched Vanessa’s face intently for her reaction.

  Vanessa blinked several times. “Not well. We weren’t friends or anything like that.”

  “Vanessa,” Gloria broke in gently, “The police know about Clarence and Flo.”

  A red flush bloomed on Vanessa’s cheeks. “It’s difficult to keep private matters private in a town this size.” She stared at Rosa. “You can see why I’m reluctant to talk about it.” She jutted her chin out defiantly. “It’s humiliating.”

  “I understand,” Rosa said, and she did. The reason she was in California was to escape the tide of public humiliation that had roared her way after she’d abandoned Winston. “But this is a murder investigation, so, unfortunately, hard questions will be asked. If you hold back any information, and the police find out, it’ll immediately cast suspicion on you.”

  Vanessa swallowed. “I see.”

  “Based on the statement you gave Detective Belmonte, you were walking along the shore when you came upon the body, correct?”

  Vanessa nodded.

  “How long had you been on your walk?”

  “I guess about twenty minutes.”

  “Did anyone see you or talk to you at that time?”

  “No, I walked south along the shore for a while and then turned around. It was starting to get dark. I . . . don’t think anyone saw me. I mean, there were a few people in the distance that weren’t part of our group. The beach wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t deserted either. They were all strangers to me, though.”

  Rosa had taken her walk at the same time, only she’d headed north while Vanessa had gone south.

  “I’m sorry that I have to get personal here, but how long had your husband and Florence been involved before you found out?”

  Vanessa lifted a creamy white shoulder. “A couple months? Who knows? It’s not like Clarence would tell me the truth.”

  “I’m sorry my brother hurt you,” Gloria said.

  “Yeah, well. Looks like Florence got the worst of it.”

  A heavy pause settled between them.

  Gloria shifted uncomfortably before breaking the silence. “What are you implying?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just fate. Florence was a home-wrecker, and now she’s dead.”

  A smile tickled Vanessa’s lips in a way that made Rosa still. Vanessa jumped to her feet and collected the empty glasses. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to pick Julie up from her friend’s house, and I need to make myself presentable before facing the public.

  When Rosa and Gloria arrived back at the Forrester mansion, they found Clarence in the garage—an apparent refuge from a houseful of women, Rosa thought—working on a motorcycle.

  “A new bike?” Rosa asked as she and Gloria leaned against the rounded chrome fender of Aunt Louisa’s Ford and admired the gleaming red and white motorbike.

  “Yes, just bought it in February. It’s a Moto Guzzi Falcon. A beauty! I’m planning a trip down to San Diego soon. Just giving it a bit of tune-up.” Clarence tugged on a spark-plug wrench, then stood up and wiped down the bike with a rag.

  “We just came from Vanessa’s apartment,” Gloria said.


  Clarence stopped wiping for a second, but then returned to polishing as he spoke. “Oh?”

  Rosa got straight to the point. “Were you and Florence Adams still involved at the time of her death?”

  Clarence sighed. “No. What happened between me and Flo happened months ago. It was a stupid mistake and only happened once. A drunken night at a party. Vanessa and I had problems, and Flo was all too willing. Vanessa got really frosted when she found out—I suspect Flo told her—and announced she wanted a divorce.”

  “It only happened once?” Rosa said, surprised. “Vanessa made it sound like you had an ongoing relationship with Miss Adams.”

  Clarence’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Is that what she said? That woman really likes to light up the tilt sign.”

  Rosa raised her eyebrows and glanced at Gloria for interpretation.

  “He means she likes to lie a lot,” Gloria said.

  Clarence continued his sad tale. “I told Flo we’d made a mistake, and we needed to go our separate ways, but she wouldn’t have it. She badgered me for weeks. I made another big blunder attending a social event with her—after Vanessa and I had split up—but it was more out of an effort to placate her. When I tried to put on the brakes, Flo lost it.”

  “How do you mean?” Rosa asked.

  “She’d follow me around, come over to the house unannounced, phone me incessantly . . . it went on for quite a while.”

  “That lines up more with my memory of things,” Gloria said. “I remember her ringing the doorbell and Bledsoe telling her you weren’t available. She had a fit.”

  “Did this unwanted behavior stop?” Rosa asked.

  “She finally gave up, then started hanging on to some other guy’s arm. Brewster’s the name. Likes to wear Hawaiian shirts.”

  Clarence’s motive for killing Florence Adams dissolved if his story about Miss Adams finding a new crush was true.

  But was it? All Rosa knew for sure was the two people in Clarence’s story were now dead.

  Just then, Señora Gomez entered the garage carrying Diego.

  “There you are, Miss Rosa,” the housekeeper said as she handed over the kitten.