by Lee Strauss
“Excuse me,” she told Marjorie and Nancy, slipping between them and Pauline.
It occurred to Rosa that while her Aunt Louisa would always introduce Rosa as a police officer, Gloria usually introduced her as her cousin from London. As far as Rosa knew, even Nancy was unaware of Rosa’s chosen vocation as they’d stopped writing by the time Rosa had decided to join the force. She left confused whispers in her wake as she rushed toward the yellow rope.
Miguel regarded Rosa with interest as she approached, his warm eyes never failing to cause her heart to flutter. She gritted her teeth, determined to remain professional.
“Detective Sanchez is informing the Chief Medical Examiner and will join us shortly,” Rosa said.
Despite Miguel’s firm grip, Diego squirmed out of his big hands. “He kept crawling out of your bag.”
Rosa grabbed the kitten before he could scurry away, and after a soft reprimand, tucked him back into her satchel. “What have you figured out?” she asked.
“I don’t think this death was natural,” Miguel said, looking relieved to be off kitten duty. “And I’m not sure it was an accident.”
Since Skip had mentioned the missing rubber on the control lever, Rosa’s intuition had been the same. “His name is Victor Boyd.”
Miguel raised a brow. “I didn’t find a name tag or any identification.”
“I remember him from school.”
The reference to Rosa’s time in Santa Bonita during the war was like a shock of electricity between them. Those were the days when Rosa and Miguel had been desperately in love.
Miguel looked away, but Rosa didn’t miss how he swallowed.
A flurry of murmurs erupted behind Rosa, and her memories slammed back to the present. By the look on Miguel’s face, he seemed back as well. She supposed the onlookers were bound to figure it out soon enough. She just hoped they would keep their voices low so as not to draw too much of a crowd.
“His fingers and hands show signs of burns,” Rosa said.
Miguel nodded. “I noticed that too. Fingers blackened and blistered.” He called on Mr. Henderson. “Sir, when was the last time you had this equipment inspected?”
“Two days ago!” The manager who had held no variance in expression before this, reddened suddenly. The creases in his forehead deepened. “I get this equipment checked every week, without fail.”
Rosa felt Diego moving around in her satchel, sparking a memory. She still hadn’t gotten her kitty a drink of water, but more importantly, she wondered if Miguel had seen any signs of the water Diego had led her to earlier. “Miguel, did you notice any water on the platform?”
Miguel’s bottom lip protruded as he shook his head.
Rosa pointed behind the platform. “It looks like it may have leaked out from somewhere inside.”
Miguel and Mr. Henderson both leaned over to see the small puddle of water. Victor’s left pant leg of his jeans was wet, as well as some of his T-shirt.
Mr. Henderson motioned upward. “We installed steel roofs over all the control panels—so they won’t be affected by rain.”
They all looked up to the steel roof, but something else caught Rosa’s attention.
“What’s that bucket for?” she asked. A wooden bucket hung from a handle on one of the rafters.
Mr. Henderson shook his head, his jowls quivering. “That shouldn’t be there.”
Miguel pushed up on the ledge of the platform and lifted himself until he could get a knee on it, and then a foot. He grasped the corner roof support to pull himself the rest of the way up. He couldn’t quite glimpse into the bucket, but he could tip it and get his hand into it.
Miguel held damp fingers to his nose. “It’s water. There’s a little left in the bottom.”
As Miguel moved the bucket back into place, a thin string dangling down from it became visible. Rosa reached for it.
“What’s this for?” She studied the frayed end, tugged at it, and immediately saw it was attached to the upper rim of the bucket. The bucket wobbled with the movement, but she could imagine it would take some force to turn it over. Who would come along and tug on a string without looking up to see where it led first?
“Could it be some kind of prank?” Rosa mused aloud.
Miguel hopped down and spoke to Mr. Henderson. “Sir, if you didn’t rig a bucket full of water over the roller coaster control panel, who would have done such a thing? Someone who doesn’t know that water is a very good conductor of electricity, I’m guessing.”
Mr. Henderson’s face was beet red. Rosa wondered if smoke would soon swirl from his ears. “I know exactly who would have done such an idiotic, brainless thing,” he said. “Wait here. I’ll get ’im.”
It wasn’t like they were about to leave, and as it was, Detective Sanchez, dressed in rumpled plain clothes, arrived right at that moment. Rosa had yet to see the man in uniform or in anything properly ironed for that matter. He held a deep-fried carnival pastry in his hand, and an unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth.
Miguel eyed his partner’s appearance then got to the point. “I’m treating it as a suspicious death. Don’t let anyone near the body.”
Detective Sanchez tucked his dead cigarette back into a flattened package. “Dr. Rayburn’s on his way,” he said before taking a large bite of his pastry.
“I’m going after the pier manager,” Miguel said.
“Sure thing, boss,” Detective Sanchez said after swallowing. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
Miguel caught Rosa’s eye and motioned with his head in the direction that Mr. Henderson had disappeared. Rosa didn’t know if this was an invitation for her to come along, but she took it as one.
It wasn’t difficult to find the pier manager. His loud, angry voice carried a long way. He was at the control booth for another ride—one with airplanes moving up, down, and around in circles.
“I can’t believe you kids could be so stupid!” Mr. Henderson yelled at a man who must have been at least mid-twenties, despite being called a ”kid”. The carnie’s hair was greased up on the sides with the ends curling into a “jellyroll” meeting at the part. He wore a dirty white T-shirt, and jeans that looked like they were about to wear through in a dozen places.
Mr. Henderson shook a fat finger at the young carnie. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times; there are consequences to your actions.”
Miguel interrupted. “Mr. Henderson, might I have a word with your employee?”
Mr. Henderson grunted. “Have at ’er.”
The skinny lad had a look of terror on his freckled face.
“I’m Detective Belmonte with the Santa Bonita Police Department,” Miguel began. “Can you tell me your name?”
The carnie looked between Miguel and his boss, his face going white. “Wh-why?”
Mr. Henderson held his hands splayed open to the sides as if to say I told you so.
“If you don’t mind,” Miguel said with authority, “just answer the question, please.”
“I—Jimmy. Jimmy Thompson.” He looked at Mr. Henderson again but just as quickly turned back to Miguel. “Why? What did I do?” Jimmy had the voice of a man who honestly didn’t know what he’d done wrong.
Trying not to disturb Diego, who had finally fallen asleep again, Rosa removed a second notepad and pen from her satchel and added Mr. Thompson’s name to her notes.
“We’re not accusing you of anything, Mr. Thompson,” Rosa said, keeping her voice soft. “Can you tell Detective Belmonte how well you knew Victor Boyd?”
Another glance to his boss. “I mean, we worked together, right?” he said, as though he might not know if that was the correct answer. “Me and Vic, we’re friends.”
“Ha!” Mr. Henderson let out a loud, humorless laugh. “Do friends puncture each other’s tires in the parking lot? Do friends stick maggots in each other’s lunch bags?”
Jimmy smiled weakly. Apparently, he didn’t know the severity of the situation. “Sure, we like to prank each othe
r some. It’s what friends do.”
Miguel’s jaw tightened and then released. “Mr. Thompson, did you recently rig a bucket of water above the roller coaster control platform?”
Jimmy looked at his boss again. Mr. Henderson nodded with raised eyebrows as though he already knew the answer. “Yeahhh . . .”
“Jimmy Thompson,” Miguel said, “I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to the police station for questioning concerning the death of Victor Boyd.”
It took Jimmy several long seconds to process Miguel’s words. As Rosa watched the realization dawn that his friend was dead, Mr. Henderson was the next one to speak.
“I can’t lose two carnies in one night! How am I going to keep the place running?”
Rosa turned to him, having a hard time grasping his lack of perspective. “Mr. Henderson, at this point, I should think you should feel relieved that the police aren’t shutting down the entire boardwalk until they complete this investigation.”
Miguel nodded. “Your roller coaster is to remain nonoperational until further notice. As for the rest of the park, I would recommend you keep this incident as quiet as possible.”
With that, Rosa and Miguel left Mr. Henderson to deal with the airplane ride and returned to Detective Sanchez at the roller coaster with Jimmy Thompson in tow. The whole time, Jimmy was muttering, “I didn’t kill him! I couldn’t have killed him.”
“Mr. Thompson, please.” Rosa placed a finger to her lips. “I recommend that you refrain from speaking until you have a solicitor present.”
6
When Rosa and Miguel returned to the scene, Detective Sanchez, along with several policemen who had recently arrived, stood just inside the yellow rope. Taking regular walks to keep the crowd back, Detective Sanchez said, in his usual brash tone, “Keep moving, people. Nothing to see here.”
The gate to the control booth now sat open, but there was a large sheet draped over it and the surrounding area to hide what was behind. Two sets of shoes were visible under the sheet, so Rosa assumed a paramedic and perhaps Dr. Rayburn had arrived.
Once they were on the other side of the rope, Miguel had a quick and quiet conversation with Detective Sanchez.
Jimmy still chattered on. “He kicked the bucket? I can’t believe it.”
It wouldn’t take long for Jimmy’s unbridled thoughts to cause a stir, but soon Detective Sanchez had him by the arm. “Let’s go, Mr. Thompson,” he said, leading the poor carnie away.
Miguel cleared his throat to make an announcement to the gathering crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll give me your attention for a moment. I’m Detective Miguel Belmonte of the Santa Bonita police. I’d like to put your minds at rest. No one who has ridden on the Sea Viper Roller Coaster tonight has been harmed.”
People looked confused by this statement, especially with the yellow rope right in front of them. “However,” Miguel continued, “there has been an incident, and one of the boardwalk employees has been hurt. I’d like to ask that you have respect for the injured person and give us some space to work. Please.” He motioned around him. “Go on with your night!”
Rosa recognized the police photographer, Officer Richardson, moving around the roped-off area taking photographs. He and Rosa had become acquainted on their previous case, and unfortunately had gotten off on the wrong foot. Rosa was determined to stay out of the churlish officer’s way if possible.
Another policeman posted more CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE signs. Miguel and Rosa both moved toward the white sheet to see if Dr. Rayburn was ready to confirm the cause of death, but as they did, Rosa heard Gloria’s loud and boisterous voice.
“Oh, there you are!” she said, walking purposefully toward Rosa. “I’m so sorry I took so long, but the manager of the Lobster Bar and I got to chatting, and well, you know how time flies . . .” The moment she seemed to clue in to the strange scene, Gloria stopped her explanation and stood in place. Their friends, whom Rosa had momentarily forgotten about, stood nearby, whispering behind the roped-off area.
“Gloria!” Marjorie shouted. “You’ve missed all the excitement.” She dropped to a loud whisper. “Victor Boyd is dead!”
Rosa caught Marjorie’s gaze with a hard glare. “Shh. The police want to keep this quiet, Marjorie.”
Marjorie smirked. “Oh, everyone’s talking about it, honey,” she said rather loudly, as though she wasn’t about to take instruction from Rosa.
“Ladies!” Rosa whispered, waving for the four to gather close. “Yes, there’s been an unfortunate accident, but we need to keep quiet. The assistant medical examiner is taking a look, and then we’ll know more, but the last thing we want is to make a public spectacle.”
“Hmph. Not unfortunate, if you ask me,” Marjorie said, crossing her arms.
Nancy patted her sister’s arm. “We’ll keep it down, Rosa. But what’s going on?”
“Why are you asking her?” Marjorie said. Then to Rosa, “What makes you the boss here?”
Pauline said nothing, but Rosa could see the question behind her eyes.
Gloria jumped in. “Oh, Rosa is a police officer with the London Metropolitan Police Department.”
In unison, the jaws of Marjorie, Nancy, and Pauline dropped and closed again like three stunned fish.
“Y-you’re with the police?” Marjorie finally stammered.
Gloria responded proudly, “She’s already helped the Santa Bonita Police solve a crime.”
Rosa remembered both ladies as young teens, always trying to one-up each other.
“I consulted on one case,” Rosa said.
Marjorie murmured to Nancy in a voice that was plenty loud enough for Rosa to hear. “A woman police officer from London?”
Her implication was clear: what business did Rosa have inserting herself into police business?
Marjorie had a point, and if Rosa hadn’t found the body, she wouldn’t have gotten involved.
Pauline, silent as always, had moved to the side, as though she might get a glimpse past the white sheet blocking Dr. Rayburn and Victor Boyd’s body.
“Rosa!”
Miguel’s voice reached Rosa, and he waved her over.
“Wait a minute,” Nancy said. “That’s Miguel Belmonte . . .” Her brow raised in question.
Rosa shook her head sharply. “It’s professional.”
A paramedic made his way out of the roped-off section, followed by Dr. Rayburn, who ducked from behind the white sheet. Rosa, leaving her friend, joined the pathologist and Miguel as they were about to confer. Dr. Rayburn’s deep-blue eyes settled on Rosa for a long second.
“Cause of death?” Miguel asked, needing it stated officially.
Dr. Rayburn answered solemnly, “Electrocution is my best guess until I can do the autopsy.”
Like the first time Rosa had met Dr. Larry Rayburn, his Texan drawl threw her off. She fought a grin at his every word; after all, this situation demanded seriousness.
“I’d estimate the time of death at about sixteen forty-five,” Dr. Rayburn continued, which was only three minutes earlier than Rosa had noted. “The park closes soon.”
Rosa was surprised to look at her watch and see it was already near 6:00 p.m.
“I’d like to have my team come and remove the body,” Dr. Rayburn continued. “They’ll do it as quietly as possible.”
Miguel nodded. “I need to get back to the station, question the suspect who looks to be responsible for this incident, and probably book him.” Moving aside to one of the policemen, he said, “Be sure to obtain verification of the important elements before you leave here tonight, and stay until they remove the body. We can’t count on this remaining a clean crime scene.”
While Miguel was busy organizing his officers, Dr. Rayburn raised a blond eyebrow at Rosa and asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence again, Miss Reed?”
“Please, call me Rosa,” she said, feeling her face stupidly blush. “I’m here with friends. I was waiting for them to come off of a ride,�
�� she glanced into her satchel at her sleeping kitten, “when I noticed the riders on the roller coaster were in a low level of distress. When I investigated, I found the body.”
“Well, Miss Rosa Reed,” he drawled, “I must admit, I couldn’t have asked for better fortune than Dr. Philpott being off duty today. It is so very nice to see you again.”
It seemed odd to be fighting a smile while standing so close to a dead body. Dr. Rayburn must have noticed this too as he touched Rosa’s elbow to lead her a few feet away from the control platform.
“Are y’all in town for a while, after all?”
“For a while, certainly,” Rosa answered. “I’m not sure when I’m going back to London.”
Or if.
Rosa was startled by the thought. Would she actually consider not going back? She quickly pushed the thought out of mind.
“Well, if you ever get a hankerin’ for the best seafood in town—or hamburger, whatever’s your fancy, ma’am—maybe you’d allow me to take ya out to dinner.”
Even though the sun was about to set, Rosa suddenly felt much warmer than she had all day.
“Oh, Dr. Rayburn, I—”
“Larry,” he said in his warm Texan accent.
Rosa’s eyes flitted to Miguel, just for a second, but it was enough to make her realize dinner with Larry might not be such a bad idea. Miguel was engaged to be married, after all, and Larry would be a welcome distraction.
“At least, let me get your number. I was about to head to Galveston, but I’ll be stickin’ around now with this new case.”
“Galveston?” Rosa asked, glad to have the subject on something else so she could catch her breath.
As she looked back at Larry, he nodded. “It’s where my family lives. I’m afraid I’m a real mama’s boy. Get back there as often as I can. Only goin’ for a couple days.”
Rosa still had her notebook out, so she scribbled down the Forresters’ phone number, tore out the page, and passed it over. Dr. Larry Rayburn was an attractive gentleman. There’s nothing wrong with accepting his invitation to dinner, she told herself. A weight of guilt still rested on her when it came to the idea of dating.
