Murder Beach

by Rena Leith

  “Hey, Sara, what about the safe?” I pointed.

  Looking where I was pointing, Sara looked puzzled. “That’s new. I wonder when he put it in?”

  Marcy shut the laptop. “Now that would be fun to look into. I wonder if he bought the safe locally? In any case, I’ll bet you can get it drilled open. Want me to call around to see?”

  “No, not yet. Maybe the combination is here somewhere,” Sara mused.

  I had a thought. I have a terrible memory. At home I write things on Post-Its and stick them all over the place. My list of passwords is on a yellow sticky pasted to the bottom of the lift-out pencil tray in my top left desk drawer.

  I opened all the drawers on the left side of Alan’s desk and checked for Post-Its. No luck. Then my fingertips felt the familiar little yellow square under the pencil tray in his top right drawer. A shiver went down my spine. How easy it must be for thieves. I’ve got to come up with a better hiding place or break down and buy password management software.

  “Hang on. I think I’ve got it.” I held up the yellow Post-It.

  Marcy grabbed it out of my hand. “Let me try it.”

  Marcy spun the knob, and the safe opened. Scooping up the contents, she dumped them on the desk. There were cancelled checks, a deed, some photos of a child, ticket stubs, a graduation program, a few ribbons, a gift box, and other tidbits that would usually have been kept in a scrapbook.

  Part of me was repulsed by Marcy’s aggressiveness, but, watching her, I recalled my occasional fantasies of Phil dead and me going through his possessions. I glanced back at the safe. “Looks like you forgot something.” I pulled a sealed manila envelope out of the bottom of the safe.

  “Look at these.” Marcy spread the photos out on the desk. “Did Alan have a child? Or niece? Goddaughter?”

  Sara shook her head. “Why?”

  “He had photos of a girl in the safe taken over a period of years. He’s not in the photos, so he either took them or someone took the photos and sent them to him. I’m guessing you’d know who she is if he’d been related to her.”

  Sara leaned over for a closer look, pushing the photos around to reveal them all. “Nope, although she does look vaguely familiar.”

  But there was another photo on the desk, one that hadn’t caught Marcy’s attention but riveted mine. It was a car. The car. Doris’ car.

  My heart pounded as I set the envelope in the rack at the edge of Alan’s desk and turned back to the photo. I tried to appear casual as I picked up the photo of the car that was sitting in the shack at my house. Why would Alan have a photo of Doris’ car?

  Chapter 10

  “Look at these checks,” Marcy said. “They’re all made out to Mia Jamison and span most of the last year.”

  “The amount is the same for every check and too much for just shelving books.” Sara flipped them over and looked at the signature on the endorsement.

  The sound of ripping paper made me turn around. Marcy had ripped the envelope I’d found in the safe wide open and dumped the contents on the desk. Angry at her transgression, I bit my tongue. It wasn’t my place to say anything. If Sara didn’t mind, I reasoned, neither should I. They’d known each other much longer than I’d known either one of them.

  My anger evaporated when she dumped the contents onto the desk and I saw what the envelope contained. Now it was my turn to unceremoniously grab Sara’s belongings. I quickly scanned paper after paper, photo after photo, forgetting about the others in the room. I was looking at some serious research on my house, my car, my ghost. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Cass? Are you all right?” Sara shook me gently.

  “You have a weird look on your face,” Marcy said. “What’s going on?”

  Rallying, I said, “These are photos of the house I bought.” I showed them the ones I’d been looking at. There were a few recent ones, but most were historical. While they looked at them, I scanned the papers. Among the research were typed pages of a manuscript. It looked as though Alan had been writing a book about my house and Doris. I could be wrong. Maybe it was someone else’s manuscript. But there might be information here that would answer Doris’ questions.

  “Have you seen this stuff before?” I asked Sara.

  She nodded slowly. “Alan was a bit obsessed with the stories about your house. The ghost. I’ve wondered if that was why he was on your beach that night. The night he was killed.” A tear ran down Sara’s cheek.

  I remembered Sara telling me she knew about the ghost when I’d first met her at Marcy’s.

  Marcy interrupted her. “Sara, look at this.” Marcy held out a gray velvet gift box.

  Distracted, Sara took it from her and opened it. “Oh, my gosh! This is beautiful.” She lifted a delicate gold chain out of the gray velvet box. A large blue sapphire encircled by tiny diamonds swung free of the case.

  “That must have been a present for you,” I said. “It matches your eyes.”

  “Oh, Alan.” She sighed and closed the box gently, slipping it into her pocket.

  Sara’s mood shifted like quicksilver. To me, she seemed ambivalent, even cold at times, and then she’d cry or become sentimental.

  After a moment, Sara pushed around some of the other small items and picked up a red plastic bird on a key chain. “Here, you used to play the game. I have no use for this.” She tossed it to me.

  I caught it. “Thanks. I think.” I stuffed it into my pocket.

  Sara didn’t comment further on the contents of the safe. “I don’t think we’re going to finish the storage room today. I don’t know about you all, but I’m tired.”

  I really wanted a closer look at Alan’s research. “Sara, would you mind if I borrowed Alan’s notes about my house? I’m trying to find out more of its history.”

  She cocked her head at me bird-like. “Have you seen the ghost?”

  “I-unh…” I had no idea how to answer that.

  I felt Marcy’s sharp gaze.

  My mind raced. “I think maybe it’s just because it’s an old house seriously in need of repair. It creaks at night, and before my brother got here, I was spooked and stayed at a B&B.”

  Sara seemed satisfied, but Marcy continued to watch me, a tiny frown between her eyebrows.

  Taking silence as assent, I gathered up the notes and photos, slipping them into the torn remnants of the manila envelope.

  I handed the copy of the combination to her. “Here’s the combination.”

  “Thanks.”

  I jumped at the sound of knocking at the store door.

  Sara and I turned at the same time. Mia stood outside with her face close to the glass and her hand cupped above her eyes, peering in, her cape billowing behind her.

  “What does she want?” Sara hissed through clenched teeth.

  We walked over. Sara opened it a crack and said, “We’re closed.”

  “I know.” Mia’s eyes flitted to me, but she didn’t allude to the fact that we knew each other. “I did some shelving for Al…Mr. Howland. I thought he might have left me something.”

  “A check?” Sara turned to look at Marcy meaningfully. “Did you see anything in the desk?”

  Mia’s eyes strayed to the desk, now messy with items from the safe.

  “I didn’t see a current paycheck for anyone,” Marcy said.

  But I thought Mia was looking for another like the ones we’d found in the safe. She’d be hard-pressed to get by without her subsidy from Alan.

  Sara turned back to Mia and said, “We’re doing inventory now, and we’ll be open again soon. Come back in a few days. If I haven’t found a check or records of your work, you can give me the information and I’ll write you a check.”

  I could hear the strain as she struggled to keep her voice as normal as possible.

  Mia hesitated. “I really need the money.” Then she paused again, perhaps sensing Sara’s hostility. “Okay, I’ll come back.” She started to go but then turned back. “He might also have some books and other things h
e was holding for me—”

  “If I find anything with your name on it, I’ll hang on to it for you.” Sara’s voice was dismissive.

  Mia left, vanishing around the corner quickly.

  Sara’s face was set as she watched her go. “Actually, I’ve got some errands I need to run. Do you mind? You guys are probably tired anyway.” She smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

  “Sara—” Marcy started.

  Sara began turning off the overhead lights.

  “Are you sure?” I checked my pocket for my keys.

  “You’ve been a great help. If there’s ever anything I can do for either of you…” Sara opened the front door and then locked it behind us as soon as we’d stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Were we just kicked out?”

  “That was weird,” Marcy said, pulling her collar up around her ears.

  As we walked away, I glanced back over my shoulder in time to see a police car pull up to the curb.

  When I got home, Jack and Gillian were waiting for me, sitting side by side on the couch, looking over Mina’s books and Doris’ diary. They both had their left ankles resting on their right knees, Jack’s foot touching Gillian’s knee.

  I sat down opposite them in the matching chair, pointing at their leg formation. “Do you two realize that your legs make a pattern?”

  Gillian laughed and punched Jack gently in the ribs. “Quit copying me!”

  Jack broke the pattern and leaned forward to spread the diary open in front of me. “Doris mentions some of her father’s friends who visited.”

  I pulled the manuscript envelope out of my bag. “Alan was writing a book about this house. I have pictures and some of the manuscript that Sara let me bring home to read.”

  Jack pulled the papers out. “Gold mine.”

  “I’m going to fix some tea. Want some?” I got up, took off my sweater, and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

  When I walked back into the living room, Gillian and Jack were both staring at me.

  “What?”

  “Cass, have you looked at this?” Jack said.

  “Not yet. It was quite a day. While we were doing inventory, we found a safe that contained a bunch of cancelled checks made out to Mia, confirming what Mia told us, but Sara and Marcy think she had an affair with Alan.” I sat down.

  “Did you set them straight?” Jack asked.

  I shook my head. “It was awkward and not really my place. There were a bunch of other things in the safe, photos of a child growing up—maybe Mia, tickets that I didn’t look closely at, and a gorgeous sapphire necklace that I think was meant for Sara. So I told Sara that I thought it might have been a present, but it might have been meant for Mia. Alan’s laptop was there, but it was password protected. Sara said her name was his password, but it didn’t work. ‘Mia’ worked instead. Again, that seems to back up what Mia told us.”

  “It also backs Sara and Marcy up.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “No,” Jack said.

  “The shop also contained a lot of vampire books and gear.”

  “Gear?”

  “Stakes, garlic…”

  “Seriously?” Gillian said.

  “That’s quite a mid-life crisis—vampires,” Jack said, looking at Gillian with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Go right ahead and joke, but don’t expect me to pull the ice pick out of your neck. I’ll be cashing in your life insurance!”

  Jack put an arm around Gillian. “You know you’re the only vamp for me.”

  “Pretty corny, Jack,” I said, glad he’d been distracted.

  “She loves it.” He grinned at Gillian.

  I thought for a moment. “You said ice pick. Now that’s very interesting. I hadn’t considered that.”

  “While you were gone, we were talking about possible weapons that would leave the kind of mark that mimicked a vampire’s bite. An ice pick made a lot of sense.”

  My cell rang, and I dug it out of my pocket and looked at the ID before I answered. “Hey, Sara. How’re you doing?” I listened as she gave me the details of the autopsy in between sobs.

  My shock must have registered on my face because both Jack and Gillian were watching me intently.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Sara. I’d be happy to drop by for tea. Four? I’ll be there.” I hung up and dropped the phone in my pocket. “Interesting that you two were discussing possible murder weapons. The autopsy results came back. Alan was murdered.”

  “Sounds like she invited you over. I thought you just met her,” Gillian said. “You make friends fast.”

  I shook my head. “It isn’t me. It’s this town. People have been very welcoming. I have my own agenda, though. I’m intensely curious about the autopsy.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s curious,” Jack said.

  “I’m thinking of Mia, too. This will be a shock for her. I’m going to give her a call and then go over to Sara’s at four.” I pulled my phone out. “After I talk to her, can you guys run by Clem’s Clam Shack and introduce yourselves? I’d really like to be able to order pizza.”

  ****

  Sara busied herself putting together a tray with cream and sugar. Her kitchen was all white, cream, gold, and rose with red granite countertops.

  “Nice tea set,” I said. In keeping with the theme of the kitchen, the tea set was rose patterned with gold edging.

  “I haven’t had much chance to use it. It was my grandmother’s. I know it looks a bit odd mixing a fancy tea service with everyday mugs, but I’d much rather have a nice, large mug of tea or coffee than have to refill a tiny tea cup.”

  “Works for me.”

  Sara carried the drinks tray into the living room.

  Once we had prepared our drinks, I asked, “Do you have a copy of the autopsy report I could look at?”

  Sara picked up a report from the side table. “They sent me a password to a web site. I printed out a copy.”

  I took the papers from her and glanced down.

  Sara said, “It sounds so clinical. The weight of the heart, lungs, and spleen.” She started to cry again. “It doesn’t even sound as though he’s a human being. It’s so…so cold.”

  She was right. Alan, a human being who had been alive and walking around not long ago, was now reduced to measurements. I looked up. “The detail is… so specific. I’ve never seen an autopsy report before. I’ve only seen TV autopsies. If you had children, this information would be good to have for family medical history.”

  Sara let out a sob.

  “I’m sorry, Sara. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I knew I wasn’t saying the right thing, but I was completely out of my league here. My own life had taken a sudden left turn so recently. Actually, it felt more like I was steering around hairpin turns on a mountain road.

  She dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “It’s okay. I want you to read it. I’m not sure what it means.”

  “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. ‘Clinicopathologic correlation.’ I don’t even know what that means,” I said. “It seems to be a summary of the cause of death that includes results of lab tests.”

  I kept reading. Overinflated lungs. Pulmonary edema. Drowning. Awaiting further test results. Penetration of the jugular and carotid. The bruising on the shins was interesting. Almost as though someone had kicked him. Or he’d run into something at shin height.

  Jack and Gillian would be interested in this. “Do you mind if I take a couple of shots of the report?” I picked up my cell and used a scanner app to capture each page.

  Sara was looking down, resugaring her tea, and didn’t seem to be paying attention. Then I saw the tears falling. I moved nearer to her and hugged her awkwardly. We sat that way for a bit with Sara sobbing as if she couldn’t stop.

  “It doesn’t seem real. It’s a nightmare. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I know.” I felt so powerless. I wondered if I should tell her about Phil. Although I had been mourning a lifest
yle, it was mourning nonetheless.

  But the moment passed, and a few minutes later she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I just don’t know what to do next.”

  “I would have said plan the funeral, but,” I said. “Sara, does this mean they can’t release the body to you?”

  She nodded. “Now there will be an official homicide investigation.”

  “That’s right.” I looked away. “Now they’re looking for a murderer.”

  ****

  I arrived home two hours later and stopped for a moment on the front steps of my cottage, turned my head, and closed my eyes to let the breeze play over my face and through my hair. The air wafted its now familiar salty tang.

  Opening the door, I called out, “Anybody here?”

  “We were starting to wonder if you were coming back,” Jack said. “We saved a slice for you.”

  I took off my jacket at the door and headed for the kitchen. True to his word, there was a nearly empty pizza box on the counter. I grabbed the two remaining slices and tossed them onto a paper plate with a dash of Parmesan. Licking my fingers, I joined them in the living room. “I really have to spend more time getting my stuff out of storage and moved in here while I still have slave labor.”

  Jack snorted.

  “Yum. That was good, and Clem’s will now deliver here.” Gillian finished the last of her pizza. “There’s a stack of linens on the coffee table in the living room that Doris and I sorted out. She’d like you to keep her mother’s embroidered set with the cutwork. The rest I’d put in the Goodwill pile unless you think otherwise.”

  “You and Doris? You’re getting mighty chummy.”

  “Careful,” Jack said. “We’re all getting cabin fever. Next time we’ll leave you here and go off on adventures together.”

  “You mean you’ll leave me and Doris here.” I corrected him.

  They exchanged one of those annoying knowing glances, and Doris laughed without appearing.

  I expected to see a Cheshire smile. “Okay, what aren’t you telling me?”