Pelican Beach Murder

by Phyllis H Moore

  “I don’t want to think about that. Let’s relax and leave those crazy people at home.” Jean raised her wineglass and said, “To us and your little vacation house. Cheers.”

  Meg was happy to be able to entertain Jean. At home, they were often hosting luncheons, meetings and showers at Jean’s house. She remained in the family home after her husband’s death because she had four children and six grandchildren visiting for vacations and holidays. Meg had moved from the larger family home to a small cottage, less accommodating for larger groups. She missed entertaining; however, she was thankful she wasn’t expected to keep up traditions for a large group of people.

  A fleeting thought about her maternal grandmother entered her mind again. She had a moment of sadness because she didn’t know how to picture her. Family gatherings had been with her father’s side of the family; there were no photos of her mother’s parents, no stories, no keepsakes, nothing. What would Dorie be able to tell her child about Meg’s maternal side of the family?

  For some reason, the thoughts kept coming back to her. Maybe it was becoming a grandmother that made her think about her own. She couldn’t connect the links of the females in her family. There was a haunting break in the chain.

  Why have I never questioned this before?

  Five

  IT WASN’T LONG after their dinner dishes were put up that Meg and Jean sat on the deck in their pajamas. “This is my final glass of wine,” Jean promised. “I’m sure it tastes so good because of the fruit, and maybe a lot of sugar.”

  “There is some sugar, but you’re on vacation,” Meg giggled, then paused. “Did you hear that?”

  “I did hear something. Sounded like a mouse squealing,” Jean said.

  “No, it was someone down the beach.” Heading into the house and turning off the lamps, Meg picked up the tripod and moved the telescope to the deck. She closed one eye and peered through, turning a dial to focus. “Oh, they’re at it again. Here, take a look.” She moved out of the way so Jean could see.

  “Oh, I lost them,” Jean said. She swiveled the scope until she located the couple again. “Yep, you’re right. They’re buck naked.”

  Meg took another look. “I think that’s the girl from across the road, Echo. It looks like her hair. She usually has it up in a ponytail with those silver barrettes catching the stray ends. I can’t quite make it out. That guy must be her boyfriend.”

  “Echo?” Jean said. “Sounds like a hippie name. She must be the one squealing like a mouse.”

  “She looks like a hippie, one from our old times, braless and everything. They’re without electricity over there at that house.” Meg walked to the edge of the deck, peering around the corner and down the road. “It looks like it’s still out, no lights. I don’t know how they deal with that in the heat of the day. At least there’s a constant breeze, but it always looks like the house is all closed up.

  “I’m committed to keeping this situation from being my problem. They came to stay in that specific house. It’s not theirs, and I don’t know where they’re from. The house belonged to a person who has died, and the electricity was turned off after they arrived. That’s what she told me. Echo has been over here twice. I don’t want to encourage that, you know.”

  Jean nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean. Poor planning on their part doesn’t make it your emergency. You’re right not to get involved. So what was that noise we heard?”

  “I think it was Echo shrieking as they ran onto the beach. You know how we used to do when we’d run naked with our boyfriends in public?” Meg said.

  “I never,” Jean insisted, giggling. “Maybe you did, but I never went out without a sweater. What happened to our youth? I have no idea where it went.”

  “I always wanted to be older, and now that I am, I wish I’d taken the time to enjoy exactly where I was when I was there. Oh, I enjoyed it, but I mean, maybe paid more attention.”

  “Yes, I think we all have those wishes. It gets by you in a flash. I’m enjoying right this minute. Thanks for having me.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Meg agreed. “I’m going to call this place Pelican Beach because when I’m here by myself, I sit and watch lines of pelicans soar over my head. They just keep coming in a never-ending stream. They fish right out there, plunging themselves into the water with a splash. I’m sure they fill those floppy throats full of fish and then take off to join the formation again. I never get tired of watching.”

  “You go, girl. Just go ahead and name anything you want. It’s your little piece of paradise. I’m going to call it ‘Pelican Beach, Meg’s little piece of paradise.’”

  “Cheers.” Meg raised her wineglass.

  Breakfast was leisurely and simple. Meg said they’d have lunch at a small café on the water after checking out the market. “Oh, and I have something for you.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let me get them. You can have your pick.”

  Meg disappeared down the short hall and into her bedroom, returning with an armful of various colored mesh. When she held the top bag in the air, Jean commented, “Oh, perfect. A beach bag, or shopping bag, however I need to use it.”

  “Exactly. We’re going shopping, so you might want to take it with you. I just thought of that. Take your pick.”

  “My favorite is that mustard, and my second favorite is the slate blue. I wear a lot of denim, so I think the mustard is a good contrast. That’s the one I want,” Jean decided. She put the plaited straps over her shoulder and modeled for Meg, twisting to the side with her shoulder raised, head tilted.

  “Lovely,” Meg said. “I’m glad you like it. Mine’s already in the car. I’m ready to go if you are.”

  After securing the house and making sure the animals had water, they headed west down the island toward Jamaica Beach. Jean was surprised that she could see water on both sides of the road, the Gulf of Mexico on the left and the bay on the right. “I bet these houses down here don’t fare well in a hurricane.”

  “You’re right. The seawall protects the most populated part of the island, but these little communities down here are vulnerable. All the houses are built up, but that’s not much help in a strong storm. They’ve rebuilt and redone several times. It’s expected. This part of the island is evacuated if a major storm threatens, and everyone just packs up and leaves. It’s understood if you choose to stay you’re on your own. However, there are still those who refuse to leave, and they have some stories,” Meg said.

  “I bet they do. You ever think about there being ghosts or spirits in places like this? Surely since the time of the Indians there have been horrific storms.” Jean turned to gaze across the dunes to the Gulf.

  “I told you about my session with the medium. I’m a believer now. I wouldn’t have thought anyone could communicate with a dead soul, but now I know it’s possible and there’s nothing to fear. However, I imagine an evil person in life might be able to maintain an evil spirit in death.”

  “Yes. There’s an eerie feeling about a place that has been covered in ocean water several times. What could have been a cleansing might be leaving briny phantoms searching for their watery graves,” Jean said. “Maybe souls wander the sandy beaches looking for a way to reenter their homes, cursed to relive the hurricane or shipwreck that claimed their mortal lives.”

  “I refuse to believe those specters could haunt my Pelican Beach,” Meg said. “Don’t make up ghost stories about it, Jean. I won’t be able to sleep when you leave.”

  She pulled into a parking lot covered in crushed oyster shells. There were tents set up to shade tables covered with various wares: jellies, local honey, herbal teas, handmade dolls, plants, homemade fresh breads, canned relishes, and fresh produce. They walked along in front of the vendors, chatting and purchasing honey and teas. Meg had a bundle of fresh greens, milled soaps, and some embroidered kitchen towels in her bag. Jean purchased wooden toy boats for her grandchildren.

  They walked slowly toward a building with tables on a patio. The aroma of cooking made M
eg’s mouth water. “I thought we could have lunch here. They’re touted to have the best shrimp tacos around. Apparently the sauce is the key. They also have burgers,” she said, glancing at the menu next to the door. The whiff from the grill continued to engulf them.

  “Sounds great,” Jean said. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I’ll be in heaven.”

  They were greeted by a waitress who led them through the café to a patio on the back overlooking the beach. Meg appreciated the breeze that greeted them when they stepped onto the covered deck. It was as if the gulls and gusts were waiting just on the other side of the building. Tables were covered with red-and-white plastic cloths topped with ketchup, mustard, and a squeeze bottle filled with a salmon-colored condiment—the famous secret sauce, the waitress explained. Jean gave Meg a sideways glance and smiled.

  “What kind of fish is in the tacos?” Jean asked. When she learned it was snapper, her favorite, she ordered fish tacos and a glass of tea. Meg ordered a shrimp basket.

  “That snapper’s market price, you know,” Meg cautioned.

  “I’m company, right?” She winked. “Just teasing. I’m treating, and I know snapper can be expensive, but I don’t get to order fresh seafood very often, so I want the whole experience. My Social Security check should cover it.”

  Meg laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, then I’ll have a bite. You’ll share, right?”

  Jean grinned back at her. “I feel like we’re in another world. It seems like a long way from home, doesn’t it?”

  “Amazing how different the landscape and lifestyle can be just a few hours away,” Meg said. “I’ve really enjoyed being here and look forward to a few more weeks, but I’ll be anxious to get back to see Dorie and Michael and have the grandbaby arrive.”

  “Oh, I know you will. Dorie told me she doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby,” Jean said. “Isn’t it amazing that they can even know that? In our day everything was a mystery and so different. Even the gadgets and sleeping contraptions they have for babies now boggles my mind. When Sylvie brings the kids for a visit, it takes her ten trips to the car to get all their accoutrements.”

  Meg laughed. “I know. Dorie doesn’t believe it, but she slept in an empty drawer beside our bed for the first month of her life. She was a little early, and Paul hadn’t painted the nursery or put the basinet together. I cried that our baby was starting life in a drawer, but I think it built character.”

  “You’re probably right,” Jean agreed, then lowered her voice. “Don’t turn around, Meg, but there’s a man two tables over who keeps staring at us. Okay, he’s paying his bill and getting up. He’ll be walking by soon….”

  “Hello, ladies,” the man said.

  Meg looked up into the clear blue eyes of a tall man with graying hair. “Hello,” she replied.

  “Anthony Anthony is my name. No, it’s not a joke. That’s my real name, but you can call me Tony. I noticed you two when you walked up earlier because of your shopping bags. Linda, my partner, commented on them and said they’re perfect for the beach. We’re always looking for items to sell in our booth out front. Would you mind telling me where you got them?”

  “Of course,” Jean said. “My name is Jean Bender. This is my friend, Meg Miller. She made me this wonderful bag, and you’re right, it’s perfect for shopping and the beach.” She beamed at Meg.

  “Well, I don’t suppose you’d want to make some more to sell, would you?” Anthony Anthony looked to Meg. “We sell breads and jams, but we’d like to have a variety of merchandise. It keeps people coming back to the booth.”

  “I’ve purchased your breads,” Meg said. “I think your wife was working the last time I was at the market. As a matter of fact, I’ve been crocheting like crazy since I’ve been here. It gives me something to do in the heat of the day. I have several bags made. I’d be willing to talk to you about it. Is there a charge for the booth?”

  “You can sell them directly to me and I’ll mark them up and sell them in my booth, if that’s okay with you? You think about it. I’m going to relieve Linda so she can get some lunch. Stop by the bread booth on your way out and let me know, no pressure.”

  “Okay, sure. Nice to meet you, Mr. Anthony.”

  “Call me Tony. I’ll tell Linda to stop by and say hello.” Tony walked off to return to his booth.

  Jean gave Meg a lopsided grin, her eyes sparkling. “What do you think?”

  “I think I should sell him a pile of bags. I’ll see what he can offer.”

  “So you’ve been working on those since you arrived here? How could you possibly know someone would make such an offer?”

  “Isn’t that strange? Ever since I’ve been doing the meditation and emptying my mind, different things occur to me, things I might not have paid much attention to. I never know where they come from or what the ultimate result will be. You’re right, that’s a connection I might not have made unless you reminded me.”

  In a few minutes, Linda approached the table.

  “Hello, ladies,” she said, beaming. “Tony said he introduced himself. I pointed your bags out to him, and we’re interested in doing a deal if you want.”

  “Have a seat, Linda,” Meg offered. “We’re in no hurry to leave. Unless you have someone to eat with, we’re happy to have you at our table.”

  Linda sat with Meg and Jean, admiring their shopping bags. “We have customers on this end of the island from Houston and nearby. If they don’t have pools at their houses, they might go to the country club for the pool, or the beach. These bags are perfect for carrying towels and hauling groceries. Since they’re handmade, we could charge a premium. We’d mark them up 50 percent, but we’ll be happy to pay you up front for whatever you have. Tony and I already discussed it. Would twenty-five dollars each cover your materials and labor?”

  Meg swallowed the tea she sipped and looked at the ceiling, squinting, as if she was doing the figuring in her head. “I think that would be just about right,” Meg said. “I believe we have a deal.”

  Linda held her hand out to shake Meg’s and smiled. “Great. I look forward to doing business with you.”

  They discussed Meg delivering the bags to their booth later in the afternoon. Linda told them where she and Tony lived, as well as places to eat in Galveston and shops to visit on the Strand. She asked where Meg was staying, and they discussed the cottage. Linda knew the primary owner and said they delighted in sharing the house with visitors. “Be sure and sign the guest book. They take great pride in knowing where the guests come from and how they enjoyed the house.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” Meg said. “Are you a local, Linda?”

  “Lived here all my life. I left to go to college, but came right back as soon as I could. As they say, I have sand between my toes.” Linda wiped mustard from her lip. She was enjoying a cheeseburger.

  “Do you happen to know anything about the house across the road from the cottage where I’m staying? There are some people there now, but the electricity isn’t on.”

  “Huh, that’s odd,” Linda said. Meg caught a slight dulling in her eye. “There hasn’t been anyone in that house for years. In fact, I didn’t think it was habitable. I’m sure no one’s tended to it since the last hurricane came through. Are you sure they’re staying there?”

  “Yes, the young lady’s name is Echo, and I think she said her boyfriend is Leo or Leon. I haven’t met him, but she’s been over a couple of times for one thing or another.”

  The smile disappeared from Linda’s face. “That would be Echo Charles. Of course she’d return wanting to claim the Charles property. She’s probably in one of her manic phases. The Charles Curse weighs heavy on that woman’s soul.”

  “Yes, she said it was the Charles house,” Meg said, nodding. She looked intently at Linda, watching the change in her demeanor. The woman was clenching her jaw as she spoke.

  “Well, it’s the Charles house, but it’s not her family. Echo’s grandfather is Benet Charles’s brother, Be
au. Benet died not long ago. I’m sure that’s stirred up the brood. The family has some issues. I quit paying attention to what’s going on with them, though I can fill you in on gossip. Sometime when you girls have some time and a bottle of wine, I’ll bring you up to speed.”

  “It’s a date,” Meg agreed, broadening her smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Now, I’ll let Tony know we have a deal and I’ll make the delivery later. I think I’ll get some bread also.”

  Linda walked to the booth with Meg and Jean. She wrapped up a tin of cinnamon rolls and a loaf of asiago cheese bread as a new client gift. Tony paid Meg in cash for the delivery of the bags.

  “I’ll go get them now and bring them right back,” she told him. “It’s not far, and Jean and I plan to explore farther down the island anyway.”

  “Tony, guess who’s at the Charles house across the street from Meg?” Linda said. There was a mocking tone in her voice and a sarcastic smile on her face. “Echo Charles. She’s back, and the electricity’s off in the house.”

  At first, Tony’s reaction was what Meg considered a forced neutrality. He didn’t flinch, but made an effort to stay focused on the task at hand. He rolled his eyes and glanced at Meg. “That’s bad news. Benet’s dead, and I’m not sure who else has the stamina to battle Echo. Keep me posted on that, Meg. We might have to alert the sheriff that there are squatters, but I can deal with it if it bothers you.”

  Linda’s sarcastic smile disappeared, and she shut the cash box with a bang.

  Tony’s words sounded helpful, but Linda’s head was cocked and turned to her with raised brows much like Cruella De Vil. Meg told herself it was just her imagination.

  Six

  MEG DROVE SLIGHTLY over the speed limit back to the house. She had been paid for something she hadn’t delivered, and she felt some urgency to get the bags back to Tony and Linda.

  “He called them squatters,” Jean said. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? But it sounds like he’s willing to help you deal with them.”