Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Collection

by Angela K Ryan

  "My condolences on Concetta’s passing. My great-aunt Gertrude lives on the fifth floor, and the few times we were all together for Sunday dinner, I thoroughly enjoyed her company. She was so warm and welcoming."

  Connie smiled. "Thank you."

  "And not to mention beautiful," Elyse said, glancing at a framed family photo on the wall. "She always reminded me of Sophia Loren."

  Connie shared many of her aunt's features - her cocoa-colored hair, olive skin, and almond-shaped, dark eyes - but she didn't consider herself the glamorous type, like her aunt had been. However, there were some qualities that they did have in common. Jo often remarked how both her sister and eldest daughter fully embraced life and fearlessly chased their dreams. Concetta had bravely gone off to Hollywood as a young adult to pursue her acting dreams, while Connie sought adventure serving the poor in developing countries.

  Elyse pulled out a leather portfolio binder with a pad of white-lined paper and jotted down notes, while Connie gave her a tour of the apartment. When they returned to the living room, Elyse leaned back on the couch and gazed out at the ocean for a moment, before looking back at Connie. "I'm not usually one to turn away a listing, but have you considered living here? With no mortgage on the condo, you'd only have to worry about taxes and condo fees. They might be a little high, but still less than even a tiny mortgage."

  Connie let out a sigh. She had considered this option before and had to admit that the idea of living in paradise was appealing. Concetta had even remarked on several occasions that Connie should consider relocating, since she loved it so much in Sapphire Beach. But ever since she could remember, she had wanted to do something that mattered with her life. And her two years of full-time volunteering in Africa after college, where she witnessed the unrelenting poverty that is a daily reality for too many children throughout the world, had only deepened this desire. Even though she had been feeling restless lately, her work with Feeding the Hungry had brought her a sense of joy and purpose over the years. While it was true that, lately, she had been considering moving on to something new, still, it was likely that more doors would open in Boston, where her connections were. Even if she were to consider venturing out on her own and opening her own non-profit, she couldn’t do it alone, and her contacts were back home.

  "Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful here," Connie said, finishing off her iced tea. "And it will be hard letting go of this place. But besides beautiful beaches and palm trees, there’s nothing for me here."

  "Understandable. I just wanted to be sure you'd considered all your options," she said, putting away the paper and closing her binder. "Everything appears to be in great shape. How long will you be staying in Sapphire Beach?"

  "I'll be driving home next Saturday morning." It was only Thursday, so that would give her nine days to pack things up. "I'll make arrangements to fly back for the closing, once we have a date. I know it can be done remotely, but I'd like to return for a few more days to donate her furniture and say a final goodbye to Sapphire Beach."

  "Perfect. I'll come back next week with a professional photographer and put together the listing, and then we can plan the first open house for the Sunday after you leave. I'll email you the paperwork," Elyse said.

  When they finished exchanging contact information and were heading toward the door, Elyse spotted a necklace with turquoise stones on the table, where Connie had placed it after she took it off for housecleaning.

  "This is absolutely gorgeous," she said, picking it up to admire it. “Where did you get it?"

  "Thank you. Actually, I made it. Working with my hands is one of my favorite ways to relax after a stressful day."

  "My gosh, it's breathtaking. You have real talent," Elyse said. “I took a workshop on jewelry making a couple of years ago at a shop in Naples, but I could never make anything like this.”

  “With the right teacher and a little patience, you’d be surprised what you can do,” Connie said. “If I were going to be here longer, I would be happy to teach you.”

  Elyse laughed. “Patience is not my strong suit. Where did you learn to make jewelry like this?”

  “When I was in Africa. I did a couple of years of post-graduate volunteer work in Kenya, and a dear friend taught me.” Connie smiled as she thought of Dura, who had become like a sister during her time abroad. Dura’s family earned a living making jewelry, and whenever Connie had a day off, Dura would patiently teach her how to make a variety of pieces - first earrings (because they were the easiest), then she graduated to bracelets, and before her term of service was up, Connie was creating intricate necklaces.

  “Wow, Africa! My eleven-year-old daughter, Emma, is studying Africa in school. We would love to hear about your adventures.”

  “I love talking about them. Let’s make it a point to get together before I leave.”

  Connie walked Elyse to the door, and she bent down to say goodbye to Ginger before leaving.

  "That reminds me, that's another important item on the agenda for this week - to find a home for this sweet little girl. I wish I could keep her, but I'm just not home enough. Cavaliers don't like to be left alone for long."

  Elyse scratched the top of Ginger's head. "I'll ask around. She's absolutely precious. I'm sure we can find her a good home."

  Connie was about to thank her when she became aware of sirens in the distance that seemed to be approaching the building. The women went out onto the balcony to see if they could learn anything. Before long, a police officer and first responders were racing around the building and continued past Connie's balcony.

  From seven stories above, the first responders looked to be the size of toy soldiers. They moved about frantically as they attended to a situation in the ornamental grass behind the cement walkway that led around the building and into the pool area. The police officer approached a couple pointing hysterically in the direction of Grace's balcony. Then he rushed into the building.

  Connie's heart raced. "It looked like they were pointing to Grace's unit. Do you think something could have happened to her?" Please, God, let her be okay.

  Elyse put her hand on Connie's shoulder. "This building has thirteen floors. It could be any one of those condos. But what on earth are the paramedics doing there in the grass?" A large area had been sectioned off with yellow tape, and more sirens approached the building.

  "Let's go see what's going on," Connie said. She grabbed Elyse's arm, pulling her across the apartment and out the door, leaving behind a very excited Ginger.

  They ran toward the elevators, but the indicators above the doors showed that they were both occupied.

  "Everyone must be trying to get to the lobby to see what's happening. Let's take the stairs," Elyse suggested, pointing back down the hallway in the direction they just came from. When they arrived at the stairway, they were almost knocked over by a police officer, clearly on a mission.

  They watched as he pounded on Grace's door. It appeared as though he was about to break it down, but Connie stopped him.

  "Officer, I think I know where the spare key is.” Connie remembered how her aunt would sometimes use it when Grace was out of town and she would collect her mail. Connie reached into a hanging flower basket on the front door and felt for the key. It was still in the same spot - fastened to the back of the basket, tucked behind the artificial lavender.

  "What's going on? Is Grace okay?" Connie pleaded, as she handed him the key.

  "Ma'am, you'll have to keep your distance. If you wait in the lobby, we'll update you as soon as possible."

  Elyse nodded to the cop and put her arm around Connie's shoulders, ushering her toward the staircase. "Let's wait downstairs and let him do his job."

  They arrived in the lobby to find a murmuring crowd. Jessica, the management company employee, was trying to keep everyone calm and contained.

  "Aunt Gertrude, what is going on?" Elyse said, rushing up to a white-haired woman with kind hazel eyes who looked to be in her eighties. Connie stayed close by Elys
e's side.

  "I was checking my mail when all this happened," Gertrude said to Elyse. "Jessica had just returned from a late lunch, and we were chatting when a couple ran in from the back walkway, screaming that they saw someone fall from a balcony. We're waiting for the police to tell us what happened."

  Connie's heart felt like it would pound through her chest. She struggled not to give in to her growing panic as she scanned the lobby for Grace. After five minutes, which felt like an hour, Grace strolled up the stairs from the garage, wearing light gray capri yoga pants and a powder-blue V-neck t-shirt. Of course. She must be returning from her bike ride. With all the chaos, Connie forgot that Tuesday and Thursday were the days Grace took a long bike ride in preparation for an upcoming mini-triathlon.

  "Thank goodness you're okay," Connie said, practically leaping into the arms of her surprised neighbor. Once Grace managed to peel her away, Connie and Elyse quickly caught her up to speed on the situation, including the police officer who had been about to break down her door.

  "What on earth would the police be doing in my apartment? There hasn't been anybody in there since I left this morning."

  While they were talking, the elevator door opened, and two men exited.

  "Bob, Roger," Grace said, "do you know what's going on?"

  One of the men shrugged and shook his head. "No. Bob and I heard the commotion from my apartment and came down to see what was going on. We probably know even less than you do."

  About an hour later, just as the crowd, which had grown to twice its original size, was reaching the end of its patience, a police officer wearing a grave expression marched into the lobby and commanded everyone’s attention.

  "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, folks, but it appears there's been a murder."

  Gasps erupted from the group.

  "A murder at Palm Paradise?" a man in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts said. "There's no way."

  Heads from the group bobbed in agreement.

  "Who was it, Josh?" Elyse asked the police officer.

  "The victim is Hank O'Rourke."

  Chapter 3

  Chaos ensued in the lobby.

  "Hank is dead?" Roger asked, his jaw practically on the ground.

  "Maybe someone finally had enough of Mr. Octopus Hands," a middle-aged woman wearing a black and ivory sundress said, crossing her arms.

  Her friend elbowed her ribs. "Stop that, Susan. Now is not the time. A man is dead."

  "Do you mean to tell me there could be a murderer among us right now?" another woman asked, eying those around her with an air of suspicion.

  "We don't know that, ma'am," the police officer said. "The killer could have exited the building and taken off by the time we arrived."

  "Or he or she could live here," the same woman said, panic rising in her voice. "You need a key to enter the lobby, unless a resident buzzes you in."

  Connie ran her hand partway through her dark, shoulder-length hair and kept it pressed against the top of her head. She couldn't believe the same man she had just met that morning was now a murder victim. Whatever else he had been full of, he was also full of life.

  "We’re combing the area for clues to figure out exactly what happened," the police officer said. "We'll let you know as soon as we have more information, but for now, we ask for your continued patience. We’ll be conducting interviews shortly."

  Then he approached Grace and led her to a corner of the lobby, where they could speak privately.

  Connie and Elyse followed to lend Grace some emotional support.

  “I’m Detective Joshua Miller,” the police officer said.

  They were joined by another police officer who had just gotten off the elevator, and Detective Miller introduced him as Sergeant Tim Donahue.

  The sergeant explained to Grace that the police were currently typing up a search warrant to present to the judge but asked if Grace would grant them permission to process her condo, so they could get in there faster.

  “Why?” she asked, stepping back. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to process my apartment?”

  “Ma’am, the victim was thrown from your balcony this afternoon,” he said, looking intently at Grace. “We need to get in there as soon as possible, and we have some questions for you, as well.”

  Seeing Grace’s frightened expression, Connie put a supportive arm around her shoulders. After all Grace had done for Concetta during her illness, there was no way Connie was going to abandon her in her time of need.

  “Of course,” Grace said, turning white. “Do what you need to do.”

  With the permission from Grace that he needed, Sergeant Donahue headed upstairs, and Detective Miller asked if there was somewhere they could talk in private.

  “You can use my apartment,” Connie volunteered. “I’ll come with you. I’m not leaving Grace alone.”

  The detective nodded and motioned toward the elevator.

  “I’m coming too,” Elyse said, following right behind them.

  As they rode up to the seventh floor, Elyse said to Connie, "This is an awkward time for introductions, but in case you didn’t make the connection, Detective Miller is my husband. Josh, this is Concetta Belmonte’s niece, Connie. We were together in her condo talking about listing it when this all went down."

  Josh gave her curt nod. "I'm sorry about your aunt. I only met her a couple of times, but she was one of a kind."

  Connie smiled, the thought of Concetta briefly taking her mind off the situation at hand. "Thank you. She absolutely was. It's a pleasure to meet you, although I wish it were under different circumstances."

  When they passed Grace’s apartment on their way to Connie’s, Grace stopped short. She gasped as her hand flew to her chest. There was yellow tape fastened across the doorway and a flurry of activity inside.

  Another police officer with short, sun-bleached hair combed to the side and blue eyes, with a hint of gray exited the condo.

  "This is Detective Zachary Hughes,” Detective Miller said.

  He shook Grace’s hand, then Connie’s.

  Detective Hughes’ expression had been serious, but when he shook Connie’s hand, kindness softened his eyes. As he held her gaze, she almost forgot the reason she was there.

  Until Detective Miller urged them to continue to Connie’s place.

  Grace resisted. She marched toward her door but was informed that she could not go past the yellow tape until they released the crime scene. At that point, the police didn’t know how long that would be.

  Grace narrowed her eyes and looked through the door from behind the tape. Then she pointed to a marble half-moon table with wrought iron legs in the entryway. "My statue is missing," she said. "I had an angel statuette on that table. It has a lot of sentimental value. I hope you’re going to bring it back to me.”

  Detective Hughes cast a glance toward the table and furrowed his brow. “Are you sure?” he asked. “There was no statue there when we arrived.”

  “I’ll show you,” Grace said. She took her phone out of her purse and scrolled through some photos. Then she enlarged one of them and held it up for the detective to see. "This is me with my daughter, Stephanie, last month at Christmas." She pointed to an angel on the end table. "This is the statuette I was talking about. At Christmastime, I move it to the living room, but when I left the house this morning, it was definitely on the table in my foyer."

  Detective Hughes took her phone, and, with Grace’s permission, sent the photo to himself. Then he handed it back to Grace.

  Seeing all the activity in her condo was upsetting Grace, so Detective Miller led her to Connie’s apartment, where they could talk, while Detective Hughes went back to the crime scene.

  "Grace, where were you at about 2:40 this afternoon?" he asked.

  Connie checked her phone. It was now after 4:00.

  Grace paused and let out a deep breath. "I was working out. I'm preparing for the Sapphire Beach mini-triathlon next month, and Thursday is one of my days for a
long bike ride."

  "I see. Would anyone be able to verify this?"

  "You can't possibly suspect me of killing the man! It’s no secret that I was not Hank's biggest fan, especially the way he constantly hit on my daughter. But there is no way I would murder him."

  Grace let out a deep breath. "Sorry, I know you're just doing your job. This afternoon I was biking alone at Sapphire Beach State Park. I doubt anyone saw me."

  Office Miller looked at her intently. “Grace, I couldn’t help but notice when we talked in the lobby earlier that you weren’t sweating, and you didn’t have a water bottle. The sun is pretty strong out there today. Would you like to reconsider your alibi?”

  Connie took Grace’s hand, seeing that it was trembling.

  All eyes were on Grace as she appeared to search her mind for an answer. Then, slowly and deliberately, she said, “I had a plastic bottle of water, which I threw away in a public recycling receptacle when I biked through town on my way home. And I wasn’t sweating, because I slowed my pace as I neared Palm Paradise to cool down. Besides,” she added, “by the time you saw me, my workout had been finished for more than an hour.”

  At this point, Detective Hughes had returned and joined them in the living room. He showed Grace some photos he had taken of her apartment. “Does anything else besides the angel statuette appear to be missing or out of place?”

  Grace scrolled between a few photos, studying them intently. “Right here,” she said, holding up the phone for Detective Hughes to see. "This plant wasn’t there when I left this morning.” She paused, then added, “But I know who brought it.”

  All four stared at her expectantly.

  “Paula O'Rourke," Grace said.

  "Hank's ex-wife? You mean she was in your apartment today?" Detective Miller asked.

  "It appears that way. She promised to bring me an aloe plant from her solarium, and this plant wasn't here this morning. I told her, if I wasn't home, to let herself in. She takes care of my plants, so she knows where I hide my spare key. She must have come by while I was out today."