The Sandcastle Murders

by K. E. Warner

  Magda’s back straightened as she lifted the box to carry it for Donna. Donna’s passion for high heels made Magda nervous, and carrying the box might be the thing to put her friend off balance. “Now that’s interesting. Everyone has doppelgangers. Maybe Henri met a twin for Charles.”

  Since uncovering information on Charles’ family history last fall, she had a soft spot for the man. He was one of a kind, and so was his past.

  “Well, you never know Donna. Sometimes bits of information come from unexpected sources. Besides, aren’t you curious why Chris came home now? That’s a mystery, isn’t it? Maybe he’s a secret sand sculptor now, or he won a lottery and is home to spend the spoils on his hometown.”

  Donna rolled her eyes. “Or he came home to help his ailing father. Or he turned a corner and is less self-absorbed.” Donna watched Magda’s face tighten as she took in the comments. “Each scenario is ridiculous, but I’ll let you judge for yourself. C’mon. We’ll drop the sweater at Connor’s place before we leave.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Dave, you look pale?” Donna reached for his hand as she entered his foyer. “Did you catch what Alice has?” Her raised eyebrow tweeked up at him. In the past few months, Alice complained of the flu, or a virus, or general malaise a dozen times.

  “No, I don’t believe what Alice has is contagious.” His voice was gruff as he took the sweater from Donna. “Thank-you Donna.”

  “I saw her drive by when I arrived today – she appeared to be in a hurry. Was she late for an appointment?” Magda’s intuition kicked in as she watched Dave’s face.

  Dave’s voice quivered. “Not sure – she might have arranged a last-minute physiotherapy appointment. I suggested it to her earlier this morning. She made a phone call and buzzed out the door. Do you need her?”

  “No. We just came by to drop off your sweater. Physiotherapist? Is her shoulder bothering her again?”

  “I don’t think there was a time when it wasn’t hurting her. Ever since she tore her rotator cuff she hasn’t been able to get rid of the pain. The frozen shoulder didn’t help. Dr. Barry gave her painkillers, but I don’t think they were strong enough. Now he won’t give her more and she isn’t happy.”

  Magda’s eyes narrowed as she digested Dave’s words. In university she had written a term paper on opioid addiction and understood the lengths addicts went to if their doctors could not, or would not, prescribe painkillers.

  “I hope Alice is okay Dave.” Magda didn’t want to get into a discussion in front of Donna. “Listen, if she wants to talk to someone about pain management, I make a good sounding board. I studied kinesiology in school.” She didn’t study kinesiology, but it was a plausible excuse to speak with Alice. At least Magda could share important information; there were alternatives to opioids, although a person had to try them to understand their merit.

  “Thanks, Magda, I appreciate it. I’ll let her know and see if she’ll talk to you.”

  Donna peeked at her watch. “We’re off, taking muffins to a friend. Give our love to Alice, and you take care of yourself.”

  Dave waved as they left the house. Magda glanced back at him, wondering if he understood Alice might need more help than he could give.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Your condo is fantastic, Henri. What an impressive home.”

  Magda’s head swiveled as she took in barnboard oak flooring, granite counters, cherrywood cabinetry including a massive floor to ceiling pantry, and a roomy balcony. She called it journalistic observation. Donna called it an enthusiastic sense of curiosity, and it was fundamental to their friendship.

  “Thank you, Magda. I enjoy it. The view is comforting. During the summer the park is always entertaining, from the kite festival to the beach volleyball tournaments to the sandcastles. A lovely vacation without leaving home.”

  A breeze played with the living room curtains as Henri lead the women outdoors through a floor to ceiling sliding balcony door. In unison, their eyes took in the yellow police tape remaining on the balcony of the apartment beside them. The proximity of Sonja Bearns' apartment appeared as a stark reminder that Henri may have information concerning the crime.

  Henri shivered despite the warm breeze. “Let’s sit indoors. I’ve coffee brewing. I’ll share the muffins you brought Donna.”

  “Coffee is wonderful – no muffins for me, thank you.” Donna made herself comfortable in the large couch looking out to the balcony. “Henri, I can’t tell you how thrilled I am you met Magda the other night. What a small world.”

  “I’ll help with the coffee, Henri,” Magda said, picking up on the segue Donna provided. “It’s a wonderful coincidence to learn you and Donna are friends. I understand you have an acquaintance who looks similar to Charles Brotter.”

  “Who?” Henri’s face pinched. Charles Brotter didn’t seem familiar. “Donna, is that who escorted you on the boardwalk? I thought he was Alexander Ivanov?”

  She nodded, and he went on, “Oh, yes. Alex and I were friends for years. We lost touch decades ago when he married and left the navy. We served together. Thinking about it, Alex must be years younger than your friend, but the similarities are striking. I might have a photo somewhere. I’ll dig through my things for it. If you show your friend, I’m sure he’ll agree it was an honest mistake.”

  The thought of a double for Charles intrigued Magda. “That’s cool, Henri. I’d love to see a photo sometime - doppelgangers fascinate me. A lookalike for Charles could mean something. In university I learned to track ancestry. I did a brief investigation into Charles’ ancestry and didn’t find any living relatives. But it’s still possible. Was your friend born in Canada?”

  “No, Bulgaria. Or it might have been Macedonia.” His face puckered. “I’m not sure. His family arrived in Canada in the 1970s. I don’t recall the story behind their immigration, but uprooting and moving to an unfamiliar country must be a challenge. They came as political refugees. Alex was three or four years old.”

  As Henri told his story, Magda thought about Charles’ family history. When Henri finished, she wondered why Raheem considered the man unreliable.

  “Hell, what’s all the noise?” A giant of a man entered the living room, scratched his bare stomach with one hand, and dragged a meaty fist through dirty blonde hair with the other.

  He appeared to be in his forties, although the weathered skin and just-woke look may have contributed years to his appearance. A quick survey of the man revealed a mesmerizing snake tattoo, fangs poised to pierce his neck. The serpent wrapped behind him and appeared again on his side, an oversized rattle at the end of its tail. When he inhaled it slithered over his torso.

  “Chris.” Henri’s voice jumped an octave, “My son, Chris. Donna, you might remember him. Chris, do you recall Donna Beaumont? And her friend, Magda.”

  “Hello Donna.” Chris' deep voice resonated authority. “And Magda?” He reminded her of an alligator ready to snap, his lips pulled over his teeth in a sly grin.

  Donna mumbled a hello in his direction as Magda stood and reached to shake his hand. “Hello, Chris. Nice to meet you.”

  Chris dismissed her hand with a wave, but continued focusing his unsettling grin in her direction. Magda held his gaze and smiled back, uncertain of a proper response.

  “So, what are you two doing here? Didn’t realize we’re having a party. What time is it?” He studied the black, leather-strapped Gucci Silver Dive Snake watch strapped to his thick wrist.

  Magda inhaled at the gold snake coiled on the watch face. The piece was familiar. Raheem collected watches and coveted those with outrageous price-tags. This watch wouldn’t adorn the wrist of a down-on-his-luck son, but it was a preferred piece if one enjoyed deep water sports. She recalled the watch advertised as being water-resistant to a depth of two hundred meters.

  “Chris, it's eleven. Shouldn’t you be up and moving? You don’t want to sleep your entire day away, do you?” Donna’s matriarchal tone had a sour edge, and Magda turned to her friend i
n surprise.

  “Well, I don’t. Thank you, Donna. You always were motherly, but I was out until late. Wait.” He cocked his head and furrowed his brow as if considering the truth of his statement. “Nope, it was early, this morning. Busy visiting, catching up with old friends.”

  Henri turned to him at the comment, “I didn’t realize you had friends here still.”

  “Sorry pops. Lots I don’t share. You might have noticed I’m a grown man.” He flexed his bicep with the arrogance of a peacock fanning his tail to mate before he flopped into an oversized leather wing-chair.

  Donna rolled her eyes and Magda sensed the conversation becoming more awkward. Thinking to diffuse the tension, she blurted, “So, Chris, your dad says you arrived here the night that Sonja Bearns died. What a homecoming, to wake up and learn someone murdered a neighbour. Did you hear anything? Or see anything?”

  His face lost its cheery smug appearance, and he squinted at Magda. “You a cop?”

  She laughed at the confrontational response. “No. I work for the Stey Sentinel. I’m -”

  He didn’t let her finish before chortling, “You mean the local rag they used to keep the flyers in? Is it still a hard-hitting, gripping, and thought-provoking list of complaints, events, and obituaries?”

  Donna stuttered to interject, but Magda raised her hand to stop her friend. Magda had an agenda, and Chris was complying with it. “Why yes, yes, it is. Although we’ve branched out to local soccer, baseball, and pickleball tournaments.”

  His shoulders dropped as she grinned back at him. He looked relieved – and angry.

  “Okay, so you’ve got a morbid fascination with death. I get it. I didn’t know this Sonja lady. Heard nothing, saw nothing. Didn’t get home till early in the morning. I was dead to the world when the cops arrived. No pun intended.”

  “Wow. Sounds like a fun night.” Magda bit her tongue as Donna’s jaw clenched.

  Donna’s words spit out before Chris could respond. “How long will you be in town?”

  “As long as it takes, darlin’. As long as it takes.” He pulled his mass to standing, turned his back on the room, and sucked the air from the room as he left.

  Chapter twelve

  Magda and Donna left the Ocean Castles complex as the electronic wail of an ambulance siren screamed nearer. They reached the car and stopped to watch where it headed.

  Magda spoke first. “It’s not slowing or turning down a street.” She climbed into the driver’s seat feeling the siren reverberate in her chest. Donna climbed in beside her, and Magda wondered if the siren prickled Donna’s sense of mortality. “Headed to the hospital, I guess.”

  Ambulances were a common sight in Stey Cove, often acknowledged as the oldest demographic in the country because of the number of retirees calling it home. An ambulance siren always meant grim news. Often it meant a friend or neighbour was in trouble.

  “I suppose we’ll find out.” Donna didn’t sound distressed, perhaps because her thoughts were elsewhere. “Magda, Chris is a terrible person. After his mom died, he was trouble looking for a place to happen. He developed a drug and alcohol problem when he lived here. I heard he stole equipment from businesses to resell, and money from his father before he left. You don’t want to spend any time in his company, research or no research. Heavens, he might be dangerous.”

  Magda’s eyes sparkled. “Oh Donna, I don’t intend to spend a lot of time in his company, but he’s interesting, and he may have answers to questions about Sonja. I’ve dealt with worse characters than him in my lifetime.”

  Magda’s peripheral vision caught a glimpse of her friend’s eyes narrowing. The women drove the final short distance to Donna’s in silence.

  As they pulled in to Donna’s driveway, both women saw a familiar car parked at the Connor’s unit. Donna raised her fingers to her lips, then gasped, “Oh, no. RCMP. I hope everyone’s all right.” She stared at the vehicle, hoping to glean information from the white RCMP SUV in the driveway.

  They exited Magda’s car as Charles rounded the corner, his eyes fixated on Saori’s tiny black nose scouring the ground for news. When the pup spied the two women her back end slipped into overdrive, wagging in joyous glory. Charles glanced up; his response less enthusiastic.

  “Hello Magda, Donna.”

  Donna’s face lit up. Her disappointment in Magda seemed forgotten at the site of her neighbour. “Charles. How are you? Did you see?” It was another of Donna’s idiosyncrasies – she often neglected to mention what it was people might have seen, or heard, when greeting someone.

  Charles was used to her putting greetings in the form of a question and responded as he often did. “Did I see what Donna?”

  “A police car in front of the Connor’s place. Do you know what happened? Maybe we should check if everything’s okay.”

  Magda put a quick stop to the idea. “I don’t think we should, Donna. It's private, whatever’s happening, and if Alice and Dave want to share, they’ll come and tell us.”

  Donna took the rebuff in stride and chose a different line of conversation. “Charles, we were over visiting Henri Ducharme. He explained about the man who looks like you. Magda thinks he could be a relative of yours. She’ll find out for you, if you agree.”

  Very slowly, tears swelled along the rims of Charles’ eyes as he turned his head to Magda. The matter of relatives, and family, was a sore point between them. He had never given Magda permission to examine his history, yet she had previously researched his past before consulting him. While the information she uncovered was surprising and informative, Magda wondered if she should have left it alone.

  Charles whispered, “I don’t agree, Donna. I’m positive I have no family left after the war.”

  “Well, we aren’t positive on that Charles.” Magda corrected him. “We traced your dad to Russia, remember? I just wondered if you had any family in Macedonia? Or Bulgaria?”

  He remained silent for a few moments before responding. “I don’t put any stock in people looking alike.” He turned back to Saori, who circled an azalea with enthusiasm, oblivious to her master’s anguish. He cleared his throat and spoke with authority. “Doppelgangers herald terrible luck, you know. There are myths that say if you see your doppelganger three times, it means your death. Poe and Dostoyevsky used doppelgangers in their stories. Even Hans Christian Andersen used the idea in a fairy tale.”

  Magda tried to calm Charles with logic. “But Charles, those are stories and fairy tales. And doppelgangers aren’t always identical twins. Sometimes they’re people who appear similar to be someone.”

  “No. Magda, I have no doppelganger, and I have no family from that part of the world.”

  Saori yipped, distracting them from the tense conversation as Raheem’s car crawled toward them. It stopped beside Magda and he opened his window, his face a somber mask. “Ladies, Charles. I hope you are well. Magda, can I have a minute?”

  Donna raised her eyebrows at Magda then headed to her door waving good-bye, and Charles and Saori strolled off, side by side. Magda walked toward Raheem’s vehicle without the usual bounce in her step. She hadn’t recovered from their quarrel at dinner. When she reached his car, she lowered her voice. “Hello Raheem. Busy day working? Wait, don’t tell me. Wouldn’t want to mix business with pleasure.”

  She had dished out a verbal slap, and it seemed Raheem felt it as his tanned skin glowed an appealing tint of red.

  “I was at the Connor’s place. Alice was in a car accident and is at Ocean Place Hospital. There’s a cab coming for Dave now.”

  “Oh no, how is Alice? What happened? An ambulance passed us when we were leaving the…”

  She caught herself before saying too much. He didn’t need to know every movement she made.

  He answered without hesitation. “She was leaving Belcher Motors and pulled onto the highway in front of another vehicle. The other car swerved and rolled over the meridian, but she plowed into a light standard. When the paramedics arrived she was conscious.
She has broken ribs, possibly a fracture in her forearm, and a few grazes on her face. The hospital will check out the rest.”

  Raheem’s eyes lingered on Magda’s face and she bit the inside of her lip to stop from crying. She’d report the accident in the paper. It would do her journalism no good to become emotional. Her mind rushed back to Alice driving out of the Muirfield complex at an angry pace. The erratic driving and the ambulance now connected.

  Her shoulders relaxed and Raheem changed the subject. “Listen, I know it’s not the best time to ask, but I don’t like the tension between us. Do you want to go to The Salmon Buck tonight? We could settle our disagreement over a game of pool?”