“People always say that,” Linda moaned. “I’m sure she would consider that a compliment.”
Meg felt sorry for her. “You have two fine children, Linda. Jeff was a perfect gentleman last night and very professional. You’ve done something right.” She meant what she said.
“I think I did. I made the right decision to allow my mother to be their caretaker. I was at my lowest—well, one of the lowest points of many in my young adulthood. I would never want to go back in time. Maybe if I could change all my decisions, I would.” Linda coughed. Meg could hear her blow her nose.
“I’m glad you called me back. I’m looking for bridge players, and I’d like to invite you again. We’re playing next week. Rene’s going to be out for a while. She had a bad accident, a freak thing, so we’re looking for subs for the rest of the summer.”
“I’m sorry, Linda, but I don’t want to commit to a regular game. I’m having company next week, and then I’ll be waiting on the arrival of a grandchild, but thank you for thinking of me.”
“If you change your mind, let me know. We’d be happy to have you. I honestly just need something, anything, to take my mind off Echo. Oh, and Tony says to let you know that when you have more bags made, we can sell them, as many as you can produce.”
Meg cringed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to continue a relationship with the couple. If she got bored and decided to crochet, she might consider taking a batch to the Thursday market. It was a way to stay in touch without much commitment.
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
It was a strange day. Meg’s routine had been disrupted since Jean’s visit and the murder.
She gave up a soak in the hot tub and decided to clean the kitchen and settle in to read or crochet. She had already completed a couple of receiving blankets and booties. The baby might not need blankets in August, but it kept her occupied, and she still had plenty of the cording she purchased during Jean’s visit.
Meg sat on the sofa with the basket of cord beside her, but she couldn’t get motivated to begin a project, too distracted by thoughts of Katie and Linda. She wondered what caused the estrangement. There were many reasons a mother and daughter might argue and stop communicating, but Linda said it was something she regretted. Could it have anything to do with Echo? Those two sides of the family didn’t seem to interact with one another, and Echo’s part of the family lived off the island.
Or maybe it wasn’t her family at all. Maybe there were drug associates of Leon’s who followed them to the island. They would be the most obvious suspects. The motivation would be clear: drugs and money. But Hendrix was interested in the white car, and Meg thought that might lead back to Anthony Anthony, Linda’s partner, or maybe even Linda herself.
Instead of crocheting or reading, Meg scribbled notes on the legal pad until her phone pinged with a notification of an email from Hendrix. She set her laptop up and looked at the attachment to the email. There were three photos of a white sports car. It had a rounded body, something Meg didn’t recognize. She responded to Hendrix that it wasn’t the one she had seen Echo driving; that car’s taillights were elongated and the rear was squared, not rounded. The car in the photo wasn’t a Corvette like Tony’s.
Meg was a little disappointed. She wondered if Hendrix misunderstood her description of the car. She would be anxious to see what Jean had to say.
Tom texted Meg, letting her know he still planned to arrive for lunch on Monday; however, his flight had changed and he wouldn’t be able to leave on Monday evening as he had planned. He thought he might get a motel room in Galveston and spend the night. His rescheduled flight would be on Tuesday evening.
Meg immediately dialed Tom’s number. “Absolutely not,” she said when he answered the phone. “There are two wonderful bedrooms in this cottage, Tom. You will stay here. Don’t argue with me.”
“Now, Meg, you’re a woman alone there in a small community. A single man arriving to spend the night might cause a stir. I can get a room.”
“I’m not afraid of a sully or two, or the opinions of this small community. Trust me, this place has turned into a soap opera. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here. Don’t you dare make a reservation. The guest room is yours for as long as you need it. You’re like family, Tom.”
“Okay. If you insist, then that’s what I’ll plan. I called to let you know I could take you out for dinner in the evening.”
“I’ll allow that, or maybe lunch so we can be here for sunset. We’ll play it by ear.”
Meg was pleased that Tom would be there for a longer stay. She would need to shop for breakfast items, but that wouldn’t be an imposition. She looked forward to it.
Later, Jean called. She had received the photos from Hendrix and wanted to talk with Meg about it. “I’ve already verified with Hendrix that it was the car I saw on the beach, the one with the couple making out. It was also the one in the carport at the abandoned house in Charles Cove. What puzzles me was it wasn’t a Corvette.”
“I’m glad you called. I was thinking the same thing. That wasn’t the car Echo drove over here. The body shape and taillights are completely different. So that means the car I saw Echo in and the car you spotted are not the same. Hmm, I wonder what that means. Does that add another suspect to the mix?”
Meg sat at the kitchen island, doodling on the legal pad. “You might find this interesting, Jean. I had lunch with Katie, our waitress at the restaurant on the harbor. Get this, she’s Linda’s daughter.”
“What? You mean Jamaica Beach Market, bridge lady Linda?”
“Yes, her, and she has a son, Katie’s brother. He’s a cop here in Jamaica Beach.”
“Wait a minute. Didn’t Katie say she’s related to Echo?” Jean asked.
“Yep, the plot thickens. Linda is the daughter of Benet Charles,” Meg said, taking a swig of tea.
“No way.” Jean breathed out the words in a slow whisper. “There are so many twists there, I don’t know what to say. Does the detective working the case know all those relationships?”
“I’m sure everyone around here knows but me. These people have been here all their lives. I just moved in a couple of weeks ago. Someone’s bound to be connecting the dots.”
“Keep me posted. I feel like I knew Echo. Do you know her cause of death?”
“The police aren’t releasing the information, but I know from one of the yoga students that it must’ve been violent stab wounds. The public doesn’t know that. The paper refers to an autopsy to determine drowning.” Meg left the kitchen and walked over to the deck doors. She watched as a jogger ran down the beach. Again, she was struck by the different scenes the shore had presented in the last few days. It could be a hush of sand and foam or the churning violence delivering a body to the beach.
Meg put her phone on the coffee table at the end of the conversation and returned to stare at the dunes and the water beyond them.
Could the motive be drugs, money, or real estate, or was Echo’s murder a crime of passion?
Nineteen
MEG WAS PREPARED for Tom’s arrival. They would go out to eat for lunch and have her freshly prepared shrimp salad and gumbo for a light dinner in the evening. She would allow him to treat her at noon on the harbor. Katie probably wouldn’t be working, but Meg liked the food enough for it to be her favorite restaurant. She was anxious to tell him about the recent events and get his impressions.
“I saw Dorie and Michael at my favorite Mexican food restaurant,” Tom said as they settled in at the table on the deck, overlooking the water. “She’s glowing and always appears to be feeling well.”
Meg laughed, remembering one of her recent texts. “I think she feels fine, but carrying the extra weight is getting to her in the heat. She’ll be glad when the baby arrives, and so will I.”
They discussed some maintenance Tom had agreed to do on Meg’s little house. It wasn’t major, projects she had been putting off. Tom had already completed replacing a faucet and changing out th
e thermostat to her central air conditioning unit.
“Those are pesky things that can drive me crazy. I don’t know why I keep putting them off. Thank you for getting that done. It’s a relief,” Meg said.
“I was happy to do it. I like to tinker and fill my time like that. It was no big deal. It helps occupy the evening hours when I’m not busy with work. In fact, I noticed the rail on the back porch was loose. I tightened that and gave it a coat of paint,” Tom told her.
“I appreciate that. You’re a jewel. Speaking of work…” She filled Tom in on the Charles family, Echo’s appearance at the house, and her body being found on the beach. Detailing the relationships and the people she’d met, Meg told him about the twist of meeting both sides of the estranged family. Tom made notes in a cramped handwriting in a small tablet he carried in his pocket. She watched as he drew lines to connect the names, smiling at the thought of him handwriting notes while Hendrix tapped away on a computerized tablet.
“Linda is the mother of the sister and brother, but you say her boyfriend may have been having an affair with….” He drew a line to Echo’s name. “Then who else did you mention might’ve had an affair with Echo?” Tom looked up to Meg, squinting, waiting for a name.
“I don’t know the man’s name. It was the husband of a woman named Rene who I played bridge with once. She was livid with Echo. She thought the issue with her husband had been resolved, but she said she knew Tony was having an affair with Echo and Linda thought he was traveling.” Meg took bites of calamari and a sip of tea. “I half listened when she was telling Jean and me about her suspicions. At first I thought it was just gossip, but now I’m sure she knew what she was talking about.”
“So, have you seen her since that day or had any further conversation with her?” Tom asked.
Meg shook her head. “No. She hangs out at the country club, a place I’ve only visited once. Linda asked me to play bridge with them again, but Rene wouldn’t be there because she’s been injured. I wouldn’t know the other players. I declined.”
Tom took his glasses off and put them on the table. “Wonder what the injuries were. What happened to her?”
“I don’t know. Linda didn’t tell me that part.”
Tom grinned. “You’ve managed to network yourself into a dysfunctional family here. I thought you’d be taking in the sun on the beach, but you’re roaming the town, hooking up with philanderers.”
Meg knew he was teasing, but she had managed to meet the most interesting characters.
“It would be a very broad definition of family,” Meg laughed. “However, I will admit what I know is probably just the tip of the iceberg.”
She moved the appetizer plate to make room for the waiter to put fish tacos in front of her. They enjoyed a leisurely lunch, and then Meg took Tom on a driving tour of downtown. He had stayed at the cottage before but didn’t venture into Galveston.
When they went back to the house, Meg sat on the deck reading while Tom put on his swimsuit and took the surf board out to catch waves. When he returned to the house, they took the bicycles out and rode to Charles Cove.
There was still yellow crime scene tape up on the porches of the house Echo and Leon had been staying in. Meg hadn’t heard anything about Leon. She showed Tom where the sports car had been parked under the green house. He parked his bike and walked around the carport while Meg stood to the edge of the concrete.
“Stay right there,” Tom said, staring at the ground in front of him. “There are cigarette butts here.” He took a small plastic bag from his hip pocket, picking them up on the opposite end of the filter. Placing five butts in the plastic bag, he handed it to Meg and suggested they get it to Hendrix. “There’s DNA on those filters. It could come in handy if the car was parked here and the owner sat here smoking. Do you know if Echo smoked?”
“No, I never saw her… wait a minute. She did ask me for a cigarette once when she came over, though I never actually saw her smoke. I thought it might’ve been a ploy to get upstairs and into the house. I was uncomfortable about her visits.”
“That house looks like a classic meth lab,” Tom said as they rode the bikes back down the road in front of the house again. “The foil over the windows is a sign. Although some people do that for insulating and keeping the sun from heating up the house, you used to see it more than you do now.”
“You really do observe everything, don’t you?” Meg said, wondering if she could train herself to be that present and observant.
“That’s why I like my job. I’ve always noticed details. It comes natural to me,” Tom explained.
They put the bikes up and Meg suggested they sit in the hot tub with a glass of wine. Tom played with the telescope, looking up and down the beach before they headed down to the hot tub. LaRue watched but didn’t follow.
After a few sips of wine and the relaxing bubbles of the spa, Meg admitted that she and Jean had spied on a couple on the beach every night, swimming nude. “We thought it was Echo. The figures weren’t clear, and they moved and were hard to track, but I don’t know who else it could’ve been. Since she died, I haven’t seen anyone down there.”
“Water always makes solving a crime difficult. Evidence is washed away, prints and tracks disappear in the tide, fish or something else nibbles at flesh. I don’t envy the police work that has to go into figuring out the evidence.” He positioned himself to look west toward the setting sun.
“What about the cigarette butts? Are you surprised the police didn’t collect those when they were there? It seems like that would be something of importance.”
“Yes, since you asked.” Tom lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and ran his wet hand across his face. “Either the officer assigned to that task was new and untrained, or they deliberately didn’t gather the evidence. It’s also possible they picked up a few like I did and left the others. I would think if it was a new officer, someone would’ve gone behind them to check.”
Tom shrugged, then sipped his wine. “I’m not going to say I’ve never seen shoddy work, because I have. But in this type of murder case, and in conjunction with a meth lab, there’s no excuse for it.”
“That’s what I thought,” Meg said. “So, how do I know which officers to trust?”
“You have a good intuition. My hunch is you’ll be able to tell who’s doing their job and who’s slacking.”
“Yes, but what if they’re not slacking? What if they’re normally diligent and just didn’t want the evidence to be found?”
“There are two assumptions I would make there.” Tom pointed to a string of pelicans soaring above them. Meg smiled as they watched them until they started flapping their wings and flew toward the bay. “One assumption is that if the officer was trained and competent, then they know, or think they know, the murderer and ignored the evidence on purpose. They’re in collusion. The other assumption would be that the officer is incompetent. My hunch would be it’s the former.”
Tom’s thought process fascinated Meg. It reminded her of her attempts to be present and aware, to live in the spaces and gaps and listen to the silence as well as the words. She believed he was a master at it. She picked his brain over dinner about how he visualized and noticed details.
“It’s not just in your detective work, Tom. You were detailed when you were the head of the Historical Foundation. I was impressed with your work there, also. You have an eye and sense for the minutia that other people don’t notice.”
They continued to talk as she put the leftover salad in the refrigerator and Tom dried the dishes.
“You’re giving me too much credit. Those cigarette butts are something a rookie would’ve noticed.” Tom poured himself another glass of wine and sat on the sofa after they’d cleaned the kitchen. Meg joined him, setting a plate of chocolate cookies on the coffee table. “The other thing is, like strikeouts in baseball, you have to swing to get a hit. Sometimes, many times, my assumptions are wrong and I have to start over.”
“I
n my next life, I’ll be a detective,” Meg told him. “Or maybe I’ll reinvent myself in this life and solve some crimes. What I admire is your ability to regroup and propose another theory. You don’t quit.”
“It’s like working puzzles every day,” Tom said, reaching over to grab a cookie. “However, you’ve already done a great deal of detective work in this life. The Hillard case was ready for indictment before Christmas last year. That wouldn’t have happened if Giselle hadn’t confided in you.”
“That was more a matter of mother’s intuition and knowing how girls can be exploited from experience,” Meg pointed out.
“Being a mother of a young woman is why I couldn’t make myself look at Echo’s body. I just couldn’t walk the rest of the way down the beach. I stopped.”
“You sound like you might regret that.” Tom said, leaning forward and putting his wine glass on the coffee table.
“I had a feeling, like she’d been gone for a while. By that I mean her spirit wasn’t there any longer. I would’ve walked down there, and she wouldn’t have been there. That’s not what I needed to see, her body. The girl I met on the beach told me enough. But there’s something I do need to see, though I don’t know what it is yet.”
“You’ll know it when you see it. Have you heard that Geneva and Hal will be having a baby?” Tom’s elbows were on his knees, hands clasped.
“Dorie told me. I’m devastated. I hope this doesn’t change Geneva’s testimony and plea agreement.” Meg picked up her empty wineglass.
“She’ll be at risk for the maximum penalty if she caves to Hal. Of course, that’s not what we want. Law enforcement knows Hal and the church are the biggest problem. It’s just like this situation with Echo. There’s her murder, but there’s also a meth house, and the whole history of exploitation. It’s never simple to unravel.”
Meg agreed. She was afraid the murder would be the tip of the iceberg.
Pelican Beach Murder Page 13
