Ryan said, “Of course, Amelia.”
“I told you to call me ‘Aunt Amelia,’ young man.”
Liz looked over at her great-aunt in surprise.
“Okay, Aunt Amelia.” Ryan got up and turned down the volume. When he sat back down, he said, “I don’t think Regina Harrington-Worth is that bad. Seemed amicable to me. And she did incur a bad twisting of the knee.” He paused, then said, “Do you hear that?”
They all then heard the wail of a fire truck.
Aunt Amelia said, “Ryan, being a firefighter, you probably hear that sound in your sleep. The Brevard County Fire and Rescue is only a mile away.”
Fenton lifted his glass. As he rose to speak, the emporium doors slammed open.
A woman’s voice called out in a calm manner, “Fenton, are you in here?”
“I’m in Deli-casies by the Sea, come join us.” He glanced at Liz and said, “Charlotte. I told her to stop by, was hoping it would have been earlier, during the festivities.”
Liz’s palms itched. “What kind of agent is Charlotte?”
“Homicide,” he replied.
A minute later Agent Charlotte Pearson stood in front of the group. Her detective’s shield hung from one of three gold chains around her neck. “Fenton, can I have a word with you?”
“Of course,” he said, worry lining his forehead.
They walked out of earshot, and everyone left at the tables looked at each other in stunned silence.
Chapter 17
Liz pulled her chair up next to Aunt Amelia’s and took her soft, freckled hand in her own. “I’m sure everything’s okay, Auntie. Don’t worry.” Liz wished she could convince herself of the same thing. She felt oddly comforted by the fact that those she held near and dear were all gathered around her and unhurt. Ryan didn’t exactly fall into that category, but with his sudden change of behavior, she’d almost added him into the mix.
No one said a thing. It was like they were all holding their collective breath, waiting for her father and Charlotte to return.
Within two minutes, Fenton was back. They heard Agent Pearson’s shoes clicking across the wood floors, then out the door. He said, “Apparently there has been a robbery. Regina Harrington-Worth is dead, and her husband has been taken to the hospital.”
Aunt Amelia asked, “Oh my God! Where did this happen?”
“In the Oceana Suite,” Fenton answered.
Aunt Amelia gasped and stood up. “How was Regina killed, and what happened to David?”
When Aunt Amelia sat back down, Liz pulled her close, selfishly not to comfort her great-aunt, but to be comforted.
“Mrs. Worth was strangled, and her husband stabbed. That’s all I know. It happened just a short time ago.”
“The sirens—we missed them because of the music,” Kate said.
Liz turned to her father. “What was stolen?”
Fenton sat, rubbing the area between his eyebrows like he was trying to erase what he’d just heard. “The necklace and earrings Regina had planned on wearing to the Treasure Coast Ball. We’ll know more soon. The ME and forensics team are up there now. Char—Agent Pearson said the body will be moved shortly. She wants everyone to wait to reenter until they can secure the suite.”
The body… the body… kept repeating in Liz’s head.
Pierre stood and pulled up a chair next to Aunt Amelia. “Amelia, mon cher. We are together. Everything will look better in the morning. If the Worth woman was killed for her jewelry, no one else is in danger.”
Impressed by Pierre’s words and the clarity with which he spoke them, Liz left Aunt Amelia’s side and went over to Betty. “I’m stunned. Murder at the Indialantic? Even with its long history and list of gangster and rumrunner guests, we’ve never had a murder!”
“You forget about Cissy Bollinger,” Betty said.
The fire that took out almost half of the Indialantic had happened on the same day as V-E day, at the end of WWII. There had been one casualty, Cissy, the Indialantic’s chambermaid. She hadn’t died in the fire; she was discovered floating in the swimming pool. Everyone assumed Cissy had purposely set the fire, then killed herself. Ever since the age of ten, when Liz uncovered Cissy’s things in a small suitcase in the back of the hotel’s luggage room, Liz and Betty had been sleuthing the possibility that someone had framed the young eighteen-year-old, then murdered her.
“No one is allowed on the second floor at this time,” Fenton said, “but on my suggestion, Charlotte said we can use the rear entrance to my office and stay in my part of the Indialantic until she comes down and tells us the coast is clear. Ryan, of course, you are free to go to the caretaker’s cottage.”
Liz had watched Ryan’s face since Agent Pearson had first walked in. He’d focused first on the detective’s words, then on her father’s without moving a muscle.
“If you don’t mind, Fenton,” said Ryan, “I’ll try to get more info on what went down from one of the first responders, then meet back at your apartment as soon as I can.” Liz felt the confidence in his words. He was used to highly-charged situations. He added, “Granddad, will you be okay until I can drive you home?”
Pops was on the frail side, but he had a fire in his eyes that reminded Liz of his grandson. “I’ll be fine. Go see what you can find out.”
Liz said, “I’ll make sure he’s okay. We’ll take a golf cart to my father’s. He won’t have to walk at all.”
“Thank you, Liz.” It was the first time Ryan had said her name. She wasn’t going to go all soft on the guy until he atoned for his past behavior, but she was happy they seemed to have passed the sparring portion of their relationship. If you could call it a relationship…
“The cat. The poor baby,” Aunt Amelia said, her voice cracking. “Ryan, please ask Agent Pearson if you can bring Mrs. Worth’s cat to my nephew’s apartment?” A single tear coursed down her cheek, making a line in her rosy blush. Aunt Amelia stood and stuck her chin out. “Let’s do as my nephew suggests. We will reconvene in his apartment. Katie, do you mind making sure the emporium is locked up? Set the alarm on your way out, then meet us at Fenton’s.”
“Will do, Aunt Amelia,” Kate said.
Chapter 18
Liz and Pops got in the golf cart parked outside the emporium. Before heading to the rear outside entrance to her father’s apartment, Liz’s curiosity won out, and she drove the cart to the front entrance of the hotel, stopping far enough away from the emergency vehicles not to get caught by Agent Pearson. The pulsing strobe lights in the near distance seemed out of place under the moonlit sky. She heard the sound of the waves hitting the shore and wished she could just go home, crawl under the covers, and wake up knowing she’d just had a bad dream.
Pops pointed out Ryan at the back of a rescue truck, talking to a first responder. “I’m so proud of my grandson. He not only got commendations from his hook-and-ladder company, but he was recently promoted after he solved an arson case. A single mother and four children barely survived a fire set by an ex-boyfriend. Ryan found proof that the fire had been deliberately set, leading to an arrest and conviction. That investigation took a lot out of him. I don’t really need him down here, but I could tell he needed a break from New York.”
Liz told Pops that she knew all about the pressures of big city life. Barrier Island living was the perfect balm—that was, until Regina’s murder.
A half hour later, everyone was settled in her father’s apartment. Liz and Pierre snuck off to the Indialantic’s kitchen to make coffee. They tiptoed around the kitchen, not knowing whether they were legally allowed inside. Liz made coffee in the stainless steel urn, then filled two silver carafes, both with regular. At this point, decaf was not an option. They had a long night ahead of them. There was again no sign of Iris. Had the housekeeper been down the hall in her suite during the time Regina was murdered? And what about Captain Netherton? Liz
had seen him in the emporium in the late morning, stopping here and there, charming the women. He hadn’t said good-bye after manning the raffle table. His room was right next to the Worths’.
She hurried Pierre along the back hallway, hoping that when they got to her father’s apartment, Ryan would be there with more information. Liz held the two carafes of coffee and Pierre brought the mugs; her father had the milk, sugar, and spoons. They passed the service elevator, ice machine, and dumbwaiter, not seeing any law enforcement personnel. Pierre pointed out the water pooling on the floor next to the ice machine and warned Liz to be careful. Ever-caring Grand-Pierre.
When they entered the apartment, not only were Ryan and Agent Pearson there, but also Venus, Regina’s sphynx cat, sitting on Aunt Amelia’s lap like the goddess she was named after.
“Just in time,” the detective said, giving them a chastising glance that Liz assumed had something to do with them not staying put in her father’s apartment. “I was just telling everyone that the time of death seems pretty certain, but we still have to wait for the medical examiner’s confirmation. I can answer a few questions, but for now, I’d like to keep it simple and get back to my job. Fenton has assured me that everyone in this room had been together well before the murder-robbery took place.”
Liz couldn’t help herself. “Of course we were together. And of course we didn’t murder or rob anyone. Why would you think someone from the Indialantic would be involved, anyway?”
“I’m not allowed to discuss what we have or haven’t found. But I can say we are following every lead in looking for a suspect.”
Kate raised her hand like she was in English class. “Did David Worth see the person? How badly was he hurt?”
Agent Pearson put her hand on the door leading into the hotel. “He was taken to Indian River Medical. I’m going to head there now.” She turned toward Fenton and said, “I will need to have fingerprints taken of anyone who was in the Worths’ suite.”
“Of course,” he answered.
“What about Captain Netherton and Iris?” Aunt Amelia asked. “They aren’t missing or hurt, are they?” She put her hand to her heart.
“No. They’re accounted for. In fact, after they’re finished being interviewed, I’d like to send them here so we can search the entire upstairs. The Worths’ suite will be off-limits for a while. No one is allowed in or out.”
“Of course,” Fenton said for the second time.
Agent Pearson walked out and into the hallway. She turned and said, “Give us another an hour or so, then you can return to your rooms. I’ll see everyone in the morning. Get some sleep.”
Yeah, right, Liz thought. How could Aunt Amelia sleep on the same floor where a woman had just been murdered? After Agent Pearson left, she said, “Auntie and Betty, you can sleep in the beach house with me.”
Aunt Amelia said, “Thank you, darling. That would be a relief. Naturally, I’ll have to bring Barnacle Bob and Venus.”
“Naturally.” Liz wondered how the bald-headed parrot and bald-bodied cat would get along.
“I appreciate the offer,” said Betty, “but I plan to sleep in my own bed. I’m not that worried someone will come after me for my jewels.”
Liz looked at her. “Are you sure?”
There was a knocking from the outside door to the office. Ryan, who had remained mute during the exchange with Agent Pearson, got up to answer it. Liz overheard Ryan introducing himself to Iris. To Captain Netherton, she heard him say, “Good to see you again, Captain. Sorry it’s not under better circumstances.” Then Iris entered her father’s living room/dining room and took the seat vacated by Pops. Ryan and Captain Netherton remained in her father’s office. She heard the low buzz of conversation, but couldn’t make out any of it.
Liz poured coffee into a cup for the housekeeper. Iris’s face was a pasty white, and her right leg jiggled nervously. Liz wanted to ask her what had happened, but thought better of it. She asked, “Milk? Sugar?”
“No. Nothing,” Iris said in her raspy smoker’s voice. “I could go for a shot of tequila if you have any?”
Fenton took a few long-legged strides to the small kitchen, opened an upper cabinet, and retrieved a bottle. “Will brandy do?”
“Yes, please.”
Captain Netherton and Ryan entered the room. The captain said, “I could use a spot of brandy myself, old chap.”
Aunt Amelia said, “Pierre, how about you? I’m sure you could stay here, in my nephew’s apartment.”
“I’ll be fine, Amelia. Like Betty, I’d rather sleep in my own bed. I’m on the opposite end of the hotel from the Oceana Suite, and lately I sleep like the dead.”
Iris gasped, but Pierre didn’t notice, not realizing his faux pas.
“Iris, how about you? Do you want to go to your mother’s or somewhere else? I can’t ask you to stay at the hotel after what happened.”
“Yes, that is a good idea,” Iris replied. “I will pack a few things and be on my way.”
Captain Netherton stood. “I’ll escort you to your rooms. This is no time for a lady to be alone.”
The housekeeper shrugged her shoulders and downed the brandy in one gulp.
After a long period of silence, Ryan finally said, “I think our hour’s up. We can retire. Captain Netherton, you’re free to bunk with me in the caretaker’s cottage.”
“Oh, thank you, my boy. I will stay in the hotel to protect Betty, although I doubt she would say she needs protection.”
Betty glanced at the captain, opened her mouth, then closed it. Liz saw the tug-of-war between her feminist side and the romanticist in her.
There were many questions Liz wanted to ask Iris and the captain, but for Aunt Amelia’s sake, she wouldn’t bring them up now. Plus, her father had the inside track with Agent Charlotte Pearson. Liz would have to wait until tomorrow.
Before leaving the apartment to help Aunt Amelia collect Barnacle Bob and grab a few items to take to the beach house, she pulled Ryan aside and asked, “What were you talking to Captain Netherton about?”
He looked down at her, but remained silent.
“Look, buster, my great-aunt’s life’s work is tied up in the Indialantic.”
“I thought she was an actress most of her life?”
“Semantics. She has put everything she has made for almost four decades into this hotel, and now the emporium. If you know anything about Regina’s murder, then I want to know. I’d also love to hear what you’ve learned from Brevard County Fire and Rescue. I’ll be agreeable to work with you on Dad’s case if you’re forthcoming with me on anything you can dig up on the murder.”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“I guess you like to work alone.”
“Okay, okay. Meet me tomorrow morning at the caretaker’s cottage, and I’ll tell you what I know.” He looked down at her hand still holding his wrist. “Now is it okay if I take my seventy-five-year-old grandfather home? Or do we have to make a deal on that one, too, Bossy Pants?”
Ugh. He was back—“Here’s Johnny…” At least she knew what she was dealing with. The kinder, gentler Ryan had thrown her off balance. Never again.
Later that night, when Liz was in bed and Aunt Amelia and her animalia were secure in the guest room, something hit Liz like a proverbial brick. Where was Captain Netherton’s cane? And what had happened to his limp?
A few hours later, she woke in the pitch dark with her heart pounding. After the night of the scar, Liz had spent weeks living through nightmares, waking up drenched in sweat, shivering, and cold. She prayed they wouldn’t come back to haunt her after what had just happened. As she drifted back to sleep, she remembered why she’d woken. She’d dreamt that a ghostly Regina Harrington-Worth had entered Liz’s bedroom, her arm outstretched, holding an emerald-and-pearl necklace dripping with blood, her head floating above her shoulders where her
neck should have been.
Chapter 19
Liz sat on her deck, looking into a cup of black sludge topped with swirling coffee-ground flotsam. Aunt Amelia wasn’t just a bad cook, she was a bad beverage maker, too. Her great-aunt had set up the automated coffeepot the night before and was still asleep in the guest room. Liz had checked on Aunt Amelia earlier and saw Venus snuggled in the crook of her great-aunt’s legs. Even though she wore a nose strip, Aunt Amelia still snored. When Liz had carefully backed out of the room, she’d heard Barnacle Bob say from under his covered cage, “Snoring to beat the band. Snoring to the beat the band.”
She loved early mornings on her deck overlooking the ocean. A congregation of white ibis pecked at the shoreline with their long, curved orange beaks, scavenging for sand crabs. If any of the other authors in her Manhattan writing group knew about Liz’s ocean-front beach house with its glorious views, they’d never feel sorry for the fact that she’d barely written a word since coming home to live on the barrier island. As she stared out at the mesmerizing waves, her thoughts switched to Regina’s murder.
“A gold doubloon for your thoughts?”
She turned and saw a handsome, distinguished man walking up the steps leading to the deck. “Dad!” He came toward her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I hope you were able to sleep?” he asked as he sat on the lounge chair next to her.
“A little.” She didn’t have to ask how he’d slept, because he had stubble on his chiseled jaw. Her father greeted each day with a clean-shaven face, smelling of citrus aftershave, but not today. The look made him even more handsome, but she was sorry it came at the price of a sleepless night.
They sat in silence for a few minutes sharing the peaceful view. Liz was the first to speak.
Death by the Sea Page 11
