Murder Beach

by Rena Leith

  “Doris has learned a new trick. As Jack said, we’re feeling a bit housebound. Doris has been trapped within certain parameters for years with her only outlet the occasional mouse or squirrel. Thor is the first domesticated cat in the house since she died. Turns out she has an affinity with cats. Show her, Doris.”

  Jack held his hands up as if to say that he’d had nothing to do with this. To me, he seemed pretty relaxed given his earlier reaction to Doris. Maybe I had left them alone together too long.

  Thor sauntered into the middle of the room and did a flip.

  “What the…?” I took a step backward.

  “Did you like it?” Thor’s mouth moved but not quite in sync with the sound rather like a bad Japanese science fiction movie.

  Although lots of strange things had been happening, I realized that I wasn’t immune to shock as my heart pounded and my fingers went numb. “Doris? Is this a trick or are you possessing Thor?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jack said. “We don’t need to call an exorcist. Thor seems to enjoy it.”

  “I’m calling her Thoris when she’s combined. Like the Martian princess.” Gillian opened the front door, and Thoris sauntered out and down the path to the road where she turned and raised a paw as if to wave.

  She looked like the statue of the lucky cat at Phil’s favorite Asian fusion restaurant. Banish thought. Banish thought. Banish thought.

  “We don’t know if there’s a barrier or not. We haven’t tested it any further than this. Pretty cool, huh? Thor doesn’t seem to mind it at all.” Gillian echoed Jack. “In fact, he and Doris are getting along swimmingly.”

  “Word to the wise,” Jack said. “If you see Thor weaving back and forth and purring, he’s rubbing Doris’ invisible legs. A disturbing sight the first time you see it.” Jack mock-shivered, sloshing the coffee in his cup.

  “Point is,” Gillian said. “This could be very handy. Doris has more mobility.”

  “But she might take my cat and leave,” I said, wondering when I’d gotten so attached to Thor.

  Thoris sighed audibly. “I can still hear you even in cat form. This is my home. Not leaving unless, you know, I…” Her voice trailed off, but I knew what she meant.

  My cell rang. “Excuse me.” I answered it.

  Ricardo said, “Hi, Cass. How are you?”

  “As good as I can be given everything that’s been going on.” I’d have to fill him in on Doris if he was going to be coming over to my place very often.

  “Did I mention that I work part-time at Crystalline, the crystal shop in town?”

  “Isn’t that one of the two potential clients you mentioned at lunch?”

  “Yes. My boss and the owner is Samantha Ross, and she’s been filming around town and would like to do some filming on your beach.”

  “It’s a free country.” I wondered where he was going with this.

  He sighed. “She’s a bit unusual.”

  I barked a laugh. “I’m fast coming to the conclusion that’s the norm around here.”

  He chuckled. “Good. I didn’t think it would bother you, but I wanted to give you a heads up. She’ll be dropping by. Treat her nice. We want to do her web site…and I want to continue to get paid.”

  “Ah, it’s all about business.” I smiled.

  “Something like that. Speaking of which, we have an appointment with Brendan down at Dreams and Dust. I’ll email you the deets.” He hung up.

  I pocketed my phone. “Doris, do you know Samantha Ross? She runs the crystal shop in town.”

  “No, she wasn’t invited to the parties, and up until now my ability to meet townies has been limited. Watch yes, meet no.”

  “Ricardo called to tell me that she might be dropping by to do some filming on the beach. He said she’s unusual.”

  “Unusual?” Jack sipped his coffee.

  “She’s looking for strange things to photograph on the beach.”

  Doris said, “There’s nothing on the beach.”

  “This coming from a ghost.” Jack rolled his eyes.

  “Ricardo told me that the gamers didn’t meet on the beach on the night of Alan’s murder. Now that I think about it, I believe him.”

  “Perhaps she just likes nature.” Gillian scratched Thoris behind the ears. “Sunsets. Water.”

  Thoris purred and stuck her claws in Jack’s leg. “Let’s go down to the beach.”

  Jack pulled her claws out of his jeans. “Cat’s don’t like sand and water.”

  “I do. Besides, I can get messy and then leave Thor to clean it up.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. “C’mon, Jack. You’re getting pale being shut in all the time. It’s chilly but beautiful. We all need some vitamin D. You might want to grab a jacket.”

  We walked to the hard-packed sand near the water’s edge and headed up the shore. The chilly breeze bit at my cheeks, but the lowering sun sparkled off the tops of the waves.

  I love the moment when the wave extends as far out as it can reach and that tiny row of pearls appears on the crest right before gravity pulls it crashing back to earth in a white froth.

  I remembered how I used to throw sticks into the surf for Rufus. Even as he was growing old, he loved chasing sticks in the surf, snapping at and biting the waves as they attacked his legs. Thoris might like to go with me on walks, but she wouldn’t be catching any sticks. I sighed and let the breeze push my hair away from my face.

  ****

  Back inside, Jack looked through the scans on my camera. “Let’s download these to your computer.” He started reading avidly.

  “He drowned,” I said, “But you were right about the puncture wounds on the neck. They pierced his jugular.”

  Jack looked up sharply.

  “And his carotid. There was bruising on his shins. Can’t figure that one out. The report is so, oh, I don’t know, matter of fact. Cold. Clinical. Heartless. It was so poignant, watching Sara grapple with the fact of it.” I shivered.

  Jack said, “It would take planning to get him onto the beach and bring something along that would make two punctures in his neck. Planning. Premeditation.”

  Gillian shook her head. “How could he drown if he was bleeding out?”

  “Have we completely eliminated vampires?” Jack asked.

  “Be serious,” Gillian said.

  “At the risk of sounding sexist, I don’t think a woman—or at least not your average woman—killed him.”

  “Why not?” Gillian tossed the pizza box away.

  He shrugged. “I don’t think most women have the upper body strength to penetrate the muscles on a man’s neck with… What? An ice pick? And how did he get in the water? It would take a man to drag or carry him.”

  “Oh, please. That is sexist. Want me to demo my ability to penetrate your neck with an ice pick?” Gillian waved a fork in the air.

  “Now you’re scary. I’ll give you the neck-stabbing point, but dragging a body into the ocean?”

  “Hmm. Okay, I’ll concede that point.”

  “It seems as though more than one person might have been involved. It’s as though the stabbing was spur of the moment and then a person or persons unknown had to think fast about getting rid of the body.”

  “Drowning, guys. He died of drowning,” I added.

  The doorbell rang, and as I got up to answer, they continued bantering behind me.

  Chapter 11

  Samantha was a vision on my front stoop as we shook hands and traded intros, and I knew from the gleam of the porch light off her chandelier earrings that I would be visiting Crystalline soon to check out the jewelry she carried. The rest of her attire I would not be imitating. She looked like a genie who’d been in a serious fashion accident. Her harem pants were purple and gold. The shoes were elf-style with toes that curled back over the top and had little bells at the end. A plain white shirt set off her purple and gold vest that barely covered her expansive character.

  “C’mon in.” I stepped to the side to allow her to
pass.

  As she walked into the living room, she glanced around. “You have some nice antiques here.”

  “Most came with the place.”

  “You did well.”

  I could almost see the wheels turning. “This is my brother Jack and my sister-in-law Gillian.”

  Jack shook her hand. “That’s an interesting camera.”

  “It’s my own design. I assume you’re familiar with Kirlian photography?”

  “Is that the one that shows life energies? Outlines of leaves that have been torn?”

  “That’s the one, but the cut leaves turned out to be detritus on the lens, more’s the pity. I designed my own camera with the idea of being able to photograph that which doesn’t give off energy.”

  “Not much that doesn’t give off energy. I should think that would be very hard. Even rocks give off heat they gather from the sun.”

  I cut in. “Ricardo called and said you might be coming by.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  “He said you were looking for strange things?” I cocked my head to the side.

  Samantha smiled. “I’m looking for ghosts.”

  Jack coughed. “Do you use ghost-hunting equipment?”

  “You’ve been watching too much TV. My camera’s more effective. I’m photographing ghosts. The incorporeal remains. Let’s call them the non-ectoplasmic residuals of previously extant beings. So far, we have been unable to demonstrate exactly which parts of the total entity survive corporeal death and which parts immediately transcend to other planes. There are some theories that multiple discorporate entities incorporate to share an experience on the earthly plane.”

  “Aside from shows like A-Haunting We Will Go on TV, I thought people gave up on ghosts and trying to film them in the Seventies.” Cold rushed around my ankles and I assumed that Doris had tried to kick me.

  “I have my own reasons for perfecting the technique. Thank you so much for allowing me to do this. And who knows? We might see what happened to Alan.” She looked down at the camera in her hand. “I’m thinking of setting up a Kickstarter campaign to raise money to produce my camera.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  She looked up. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know why I’ll be lurking outside your house. Didn’t want to make you nervous.” She smiled and looked at me. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  Doris shimmered behind Samantha while I struggled to keep a straight face. What could I say that wouldn’t offend Doris yet wouldn’t give the game away? “When I’m home alone at night, I believe in ghosts. In broad daylight on the beach, I’m amazingly brave.”

  The shimmer stopped.

  Samantha tucked the camera under her arm. “I’ll go find out what lurks on your beach at night.”

  “Feel free.” I opened my door and gestured her out.

  She walked down from my cottage, following the gleam of the moonlight off the sand and water.

  As I watched, Samantha set up a tripod and pointed the camera down the beach. My eyes played tricks on me again, turning the scene into a moonlit horror show. I imagined that I saw the indentation from Alan’s body, but I knew with the rational part of my mind that any trace of him had long since been washed away. I blinked a few times. When I looked again, the beach was a bluish sandy expanse decorated with dark seaweed and gray rocks.

  After a few minutes, Samantha picked up the tripod and moved it down by the edge of the sea, pointing up toward the woods. Then she looked up suddenly as if startled. Like spirits of the forest, the vampire gamers emerged single file from the twilit woods onto the rocky grass plateau that ended abruptly in an erosion line at the beach. They didn’t see Samantha at first as they threaded their silent dance.

  They formed a circle, but then a tall, dark figure seemed to notice her and pointed. They fled back into the woods as one, their capes, scarves, and long skirts trailing like wisps of smoke from a dying fire. Samantha bent over her camera. A few minutes later, as I watched, she packed it all up and headed back for my house.

  I held the door open for her and looked for the cat. “Done so soon?” I was pleased that she’d finally be on her way.

  “Just for this session. It’s too dark now.”

  I closed the door. “I think you got some pretty dramatic footage when the gamers came down the hill.”

  “I was more interested in filming the undead companions that were with them.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “In that case, could we have a look now? Does your camera have digital geo tagging, cloud tech, and a time stamp?”

  “That’s what Kickstarter is for. When it does, I’ll patent the tech, make a fortune, and retire. This is California, after all.”

  I laughed. I was warming to this strange woman even though I wanted normal like Marcy.

  ****

  The next morning Ricardo met me in the parking lot behind Dreams and Dust and started filling me in with the intensity of a Super Bowl coach as I got out of the car. “Mia will meet us here. This is the south end of the business section of Las Lunas. Dreams and Dust, Brendan’s store, is independent. With the takeover by Amazon, Barnes & Noble, eBay, and AbeBooks, he’s fighting back to keep his customers, which works for us.”

  The store glowed with incandescent light.

  “It looks warm and cozy.”

  Ricardo nodded. “Brendan doesn’t like the coldness of fluorescent lights or the heat of halogens, and if you ask him, he’ll tell you about the radiation the fluorescents give off. A bit paranoid that although he is wobbling a bit over LEDs now that the price is down. I warned him that incandescents are being phased out, and he showed me his stockpile in the storage room.”

  The old brass bell on the curled spring above the door jangled as we entered.

  “I feel as though I’ve just entered a neighborhood shop from a century ago.”

  “Good! Exactly what I want you to feel.”

  Brendan, who could have been called portly, was wearing a corduroy jacket and vest. He reminded me of English professors and Stilton cheese. His dark, shaggy hair curled below his ears. Touches of premature gray highlighted his temples, the center of his beard, and the outside edges of his mustache.

  “I’m Brendan Mays, proprietor.” He held out his hand, which was soft and warm.

  “I’m Cass Peake. Pleased to meet you.”

  “I hope you like to read.”

  “Always.”

  He beamed.

  “Everyone comes to Brendan to learn the history and fascinating little bits of detail about a book or author. He told me once that he’d even started writing a mystery novel.”

  “Now you’re telling tales.” But Brendan looked pleased. “Don’t mind the clutter in the shop. I’m hoping to add to it soon…if Sara is willing to sell Althea Romeo’s collection.”

  “Didn’t Alan buy that recently?” Ricardo asked.

  “Yes, but I doubt that it has the same meaning for Sara that it did for Alan.”

  “And you?”

  “Perhaps. Besides, I’ll give her a fair price, and she may need money right about now.”

  We followed Brendan back to some comfy chairs in a reading area. I nearly laughed, remembering Ricardo’s words when Brendan turned on some incandescent torchieres.

  Brendan looked up over the rim of his glasses. So professorial. I wished that the wrinkles at the corners of my eyes made me look as good. “Now let’s hear your proposal.”

  As Ricardo laid out the rudiments of his proposal, I looked around the cozy store. The wooden bookshelves divided the large room into nooks. Posters of authors, many signed, crowded what little wall space remained.

  Ricardo continued, “Lots of collectors do their searching online these days. You need to have a web site up and running so that you can get in on those sales.”

  “You have to keep up these days or get left behind,” I warned.

  He smiled and looked around as though he were assessing his stock. “It’s not as though I’ve e
ver been worried about keeping up with the electronic Joneses. I don’t know if anyone outside of Las Lunas would be interested in this stuff.” Then he paused. “But I guess we all have to start somewhere.”

  “I think you should go for it, Mr. B.” A young platinum blonde stepped out from behind a bookcase. Mia wore a slinky white dress with a satiny finish, and her pale hair looked wet and slicked back. “Hey, Ricardo. Cass.” She smiled and lowered her long eyelashes.

  Great look. “Join us.”

  Brendan turned to look at her over the tortoise shell rim of his glasses. “I didn’t realize you were part of this enterprise, Morgana?”

  I had to ask. “Morgana?”

  “My gaming name.”

  “Ah.”

  “She’s the brains behind our company. Sit here, Mia.” Ricardo pulled a leather chair up for her.

  She sat next to him. Her slim, flexible body seemed almost boneless in its pliability. Her large green eyes stood out against her pale white skin.

  “Well, you already know my stock, so I’m sure you’ll have some good ideas for listing it.”

  “I’m already working on your database.” Mia crossed her legs.

  “Unfortunately, a lot of kids’ reading has moved to the Internet. There’s a lot of fan fiction. You write some of it, don’t you, Morgana?” Brendan said.

  “And so do I,” Ricardo said.

  “I stock books for people much the same way tobacconists used to stock favorite pipe tobacco for their customers,” Brendan added.

  “The personal touch.” I pulled out my tablet and took notes. “We could work that into your online service. Customer lists. Most sites have wish lists or something similar.”

  “I see the new trends by the books being offered. First, there were vampire balls, and now, steampunk balls. The young always have an appetite for the new. Whereas, I prefer the old.” He shrugged. “But I like this trend. Anything that gets kids researching the Victorians appeals to me.”

  Mia opened her laptop and took him through the demo of the interactive web site and ordering system in detail and also suggested that he arrange to sell books by area authors and do more signings in the store: a touch of the new and touch of the old. Brendan looked through the wire frames of the site designs, liking some, discarding others.