Was the library volunteer implying that the two of them were romantically involved? Dorothy wasn’t sure. “Oh, of course,” she said. “Lorella was his administrative secretary, wasn’t she?”
“Well, yes.” Millicent leaned closer across the counter. “But if you ask me, I think there was some hanky-panky going on there. They always had their heads together over in a corner.”
“Really?” Dorothy shifted uncomfortably. She loathed this kind of gossip, and her Aerolite shoes were feeling a bit tight. Weren’t both the professor and his secretary unattached? And they worked together, for heaven’s sake. Maybe that was the library volunteer’s objection.
“The professor is very highly regarded on campus.” Millicent was really warming up now. “He was practically Ivy League. And he’s writing a novel. It’s very hush-hush, but he told me himself.”
“You don’t say.” Dorothy slid the heavy bag of book club materials onto a metal cart that another aide had thoughtfully abandoned by the desk. She knew plenty of people who were writing books. Or planned to, someday.
“Maybe now the professor will have fewer distractions,” Millicent said. “True artists need their space to create.”
Had Professor Bell told her that, too? Dorothy wondered. In any case, she needed some space herself right now. “Thank you again for your help, Millicent,” she said, pointing the cart toward the library’s main doors. “I’ll put all this wonderful book club material to good use.”
How could the library volunteer have been so unkind—and unfair—to Lorella? The poor woman had just died. No, she’d been murdered, Dorothy corrected herself. Much, much worse. And solving the mystery of her death was the only way she could find justice for Lorella now.
Dorothy had just stopped the cart at the sliding glass doors when Summer burst through the entrance. “Hey, Dorothy,” Summer said, taking the book bag. “What’s all this?”
“Oh, just a few things for the book club,” Dorothy said, ignoring her friend’s wrinkled nose. “Did you speak with Professor Bell?” she added, with a quick glance behind her.
“Oh yeah. He’s a real winner. I’ll tell you all about our little meeting when we get to the car. I’ve got something pretty interesting in my bag to show you.” Summer reached out with her other hand to help Dorothy negotiate the steps. “Hey, there’s a Hibiscus Pointe Book Club flyer on the bulletin board back there. Did you put that up? I only had that one left in my bag from this morning, when I was going to ask Jennifer to make copies. I gave it to the professor. He was pretty interested once he found out GH Hamel would be there.”
“I didn’t post anything.” Dorothy twisted her neck to view the announcement tacked to the Santa Teresa bulletin board with maroon and yellow push pins. “It’s a Hibiscus Pointe-only event.”
“Not anymore,” Summer said cheerfully. “Parker or Carrie must have beaten us to it.” She squinted a bit, then frowned. “Huh. That flyer’s different than ours. It says we’re serving free food and drinks.”
“We most certainly will not,” Dorothy said. It was a good thing Summer had a hold of her arm, or she might have toppled over in surprise—and horror. “We don’t have any budget for refreshments.”
“It’s worth a try,” Summer said, guiding Dorothy smoothly toward the steps. “Maybe Jennifer can talk Roger into springing for a few more bucks. But if you ask me, I think free food and drinks is a great idea. A lot more people will show up, so we don’t have to worry about a big audience for Dash’s mom. And, uh, Carrie.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Dorothy sighed.
“Plus, we know we have one of our suspects coming. And maybe even proof he killed Lorella.” Summer stopped to open her bag and moved aside a messy stack of book club flyers. “Check this out. Ta-da!”
A shiny gold bookend in the shape of a woman. “Oh my goodness. Is that the mate?” Dorothy asked in horror.
“Could be,” Summer said. “Turns out these are really common, though. They sell them all over the place. So we still have to figure out where Trixie is and invite her, too. I still think she’s the real murderer. Ol’ Professor Charlie seems like a wimp to me.”
Dorothy glanced at the darkening sky behind the Santa Teresa bell tower and the vine-covered walls of Rose Hall. The earlier brilliant sunshine had disappeared behind the clouds, and she felt the humidity pressing hard upon her on all sides.
“We’d better hurry up,” Summer said, “or we’re going to get poured on.”
In more ways than one, Dorothy told herself, as they quickened their pace down the Spanish-tiled library steps.
Lorella’s killer was out there somewhere. And if he or she wasn’t found soon, anyone at Hibiscus Pointe might very well be next.
Chapter Eight
“Come on, now, Mrs. Rumway,” Summer called down to the lazily drifting whale in the pool. “How about a little more effort? You’ve totally mastered the dead man’s float.”
Gladys remained motionless, her flabby arms and legs stretched out like a stubborn starfish.
Summer leaned closer. “Please?” she tried, loudly.
Her beginner swim class had been extra challenging today. For some reason, neither of her students was paying a single shred of attention. Maybe it was because of the gloomy gray skies. It still hadn’t actually started raining, and there wasn’t any sign of thunder or lightning.
That’d wake the battle-ax up and force her out of the pool. Or maybe she should blow the lifeguard whistle around her neck.
“Mademoiselle Summer,” her younger student said, tapping on her leg from where she sat on the pool steps, her wet kickboard across her knees, “did you hear Juliette-Margot say she’s getting a puppy?”
“That’s nice,” Summer murmured, her eyes never moving from Gladys as the woman continued to float in her brown-and-mustard-yellow-striped, skater-style resort swimwear. There was a reason they called that style a tank suit.
The battle-ax could go under any minute and she’d already been rescued once, a few weeks ago. If she’d just put on her big-girl briefs and learn to swim…But at least she wasn’t talking anymore about how she was going to solve Lorella Caldwell’s murder.
That had taken the first fifteen minutes of class.
“Maybe a poodle,” Summer heard Juliette-Margot say as she tuned back in. The kid was so excited she should pay more attention. “One of those big, pretty ones. They’re French, you know.”
“Mm-hmm.” No way were Dash and Julian ever going to agree to that, with their designer-showcase house. Dash met with clients there.
“And they don’t shed, Grandmère says.”
Summer was just about to call an end to class, storm or no storm, when she spotted Helen Murphy walking toward them in an A-line white sundress, her skin glowing its usual Tropicana shade and her blond hair styled into a tight helmet.
“So glad I caught you, Summer,” the Residents Board president greeted her.
Summer sighed. Helen was always trying to catch her in something so she could get her kicked out of Hibiscus Pointe. “Do you need something, Mrs. Murphy?”
The woman smiled her thin, red Joker smile. Or maybe it was more like the Grinch’s, if he’d had bad plastic surgery. “In fact, there is. I’m wondering what kind of progress you’ve made on the water ballet organizational front.”
Nooo. Not again. Helen had been bugging her about it ever since Summer took the aquatics director job. Coaching a bunch of seniors to compete against other retirement community teams in synchronized swimming would be a nightmare.
Way, way worse than the book club. She should get paid for that kind of extra stuff, right? Besides, she and Dorothy were already much too busy, with the investigation and all.
“Water ballet?” Gladys suddenly jackknifed up in the pool, spraying water everywhere. “I’m in. When do we start?”
Luckily, a faint, low rumble of thunder sounded before Summer had to come up with an answer. Saved, she told herself. “Out of the pool, please, Mrs. Ru
mway. Quick, there may be lightning soon. You, too, Juliette-Margot,” she added, reaching down for the little girl’s hand. “We need to go. Don’t hold on to the railing, Mrs. Rumway. It’s metal.”
As the battle-ax lugged herself up the pool steps, Summer hustled Juliette-Margot past Helen toward the nearby covered cabana, where Dash had left his daughter’s towel and pool bag. “We’ll definitely talk about this later, Mrs. Murphy,” she called over her shoulder. “You’d better get inside somewhere now. Safety first.”
Helen didn’t look happy, but the woman was already beelining for the main building. For one thing, she probably didn’t want to get her hair wet. It also looked as if she was anxious to avoid the more dangerous storm—Gladys, who chased after her, blabbing about water ballet sign-ups and dripping all over her.
Summer breathed a deep sigh of relief as she wrapped a shivering Juliette-Margot in her beach towel. It was probably just a matter of time before she had to start up that team, or Helen would be back on her case because she wasn’t fifty-five, so she wasn’t supposed to be living here.
“So, will you help me name Juliette-Margot’s new puppy?” the little girl asked. “I thought maybe Alphonse.”
Jeez. Where did the kid come up with a weird name like that? “Sounds perfect,” Summer said, pulling a pink terry cover-up over Juliette-Margot’s damp blond curls. “So when are you getting this doggy?”
“She’s not.” Dash stepped into the cabana. “Juliette-Margot, what did your daddy and I explain to you about that?” He rolled his eyes at Summer over his daughter’s head. “Mother’s big idea. And a very poor one, even for her, I might add.”
“But, Papa…”
“Sorry, cherie, no buts,” Dash said. “Case closed. We’ll get you one of those nice, clean, quiet robot dogs. You can train it and everything, okay?”
Juliette-Margot’s eyes filled with tears, and Summer felt sorry for the poor kid. She’d never had a pet, either. Not that she’d wanted one, really. Besides the fact that she was allergic to them, animals made her nervous in general. Especially Dorothy’s cat, Mr. Bitey.
“Listen, Summer, can you do me a big favor?” Dash asked. “Our nanny’s sister just had a car accident and she had to take the afternoon off. Do you think you could watch Juliette-Margot right now while I meet with a client at the house? It’d only be for a couple of hours. Julian’s in court today, Mother is writing and can’t be disturbed, and I’m up the creek.”
“S’il vous plait?” Juliette-Margot gazed up at Summer, her tears drying up as fast as last season’s lipstick.
Oh wow. How could she say no to that hopeful, lispy voice? The kid sounded exactly like the cute little sister in ET.
“Sure,” Summer said to her. “Um, what should we do?” she added to Dash, over Juliette-Margot’s head. She’d never babysat for anyone before. Except maybe a few ex-boyfriends.
“I don’t know. Anything, really. Go get an ice cream or something,” Dash said as a few gentle raindrops began to hit the cabana’s canvas roof. “I should be done by the time you get back. I’ll owe you, okay?” He checked his Movado watch and smiled apologetically. “Gotta go.”
“No prob,” Summer said. “I’ve got this.” She hoped.
Half an hour later, she and Juliette-Margot sat in the MINI Cooper outside Alice’s Ice Cream, eating their massive cones as the rain pounded the roof. “Isn’t this fun?” Summer asked.
“Oui.” Juliette-Margot plucked the little elephant animal cracker out of her Caterpillar Hookah-Looka Crunch. “Grandmère says I can still have a puppy, even if my papas said no. She says I can get whatever I wish for, if I never, ever give up.”
“That’s not always true, JM,” Summer said, pushing the ignition as she balanced her cone in the other hand. Was it wrong to burst a little kid’s bubble like that? Probably. “I mean, your grandmère is right about never giving up on stuff, but…sometimes you end up with something else that’s just as good, but maybe a little different than you expected.”
“Better than a puppy?”
“Well, sometimes.”
There was no point in mentioning there were also those times in life when you ended up with something different—and really, really bad. Like being murdered, for example. Lorella Caldwell could never have expected that would happen to her. Or…had she?
So far, there was no way to tell.
Summer flipped on the windshield wipers as she pulled out of Alice’s driveway onto Bonita Beach Boulevard, swerving to avoid a white, windowless van that sped up to cut her off. Jerk. “Are you okay?” she asked her seemingly undisturbed passenger.
The little girl nodded. She hadn’t lost a drop of her ice cream. “That’s why Juliette-Margot’s papas make her sit in the backseat.”
Oh no. How had she forgotten the numero-uno rule of car safety for kids? “You’re right,” Summer said. “I’m really sorry. We’ll pull over so you can climb into the back.”
It was official. She was the worst babysitter ever. Was Juliette-Margot too big for a car seat? Dash would have mentioned it to her if she needed one, she was sure. He and Julian were superprotective of their daughter.
“Look, alligators! And a big snake.” Juliette-Margot pointed excitedly out the window as Summer turned into the next strip mall entrance and brought the MINI to a stop in the nearest parking space.
“What?” Summer twisted to see a huge white sign painted with sun-faded black letters that screamed 20-Foot Snake! and Camo’s Exotic Pets and Supplies. An ugly cartoon serpent twisted across the top of the sign, with a wily-looking alligator at each side. They held smaller signs that said Live Gators! and Meet Camo—Free!
“Can we go in and see them?” Juliette-Margot asked.
“Not on your life,” Summer said. “They probably aren’t real, anyway.” She hoped not, anyway. “Hurry up and climb into the back, okay, JM? We need to get out of here.”
Camo’s Exotic Pets and Supplies looked like it had once been a strip bar, with its nondescript square shape and blacked-out, barred windows. A neon green Open sign buzzed in the window.
All the other businesses around the place were either closed or out of business. No surprise there. Who knew what kind of lowlifes hung out at Camo’s?
As Summer gave Juliette-Margot—still carefully clutching her ice cream—a boost over the console between them, she heard a car door slam.
Incredible. A skinny guy in a black heavy metal T-shirt and cargo shorts was getting out of a white van parked near a group of tall weeds in the far corner of the parking lot. It looked like the same van that had almost creamed them outside Alice’s.
And the guy looked exactly like…Ray.
Summer started the MINI, being careful to rev the gas as little as possible, and leaned forward across the dash to see better. Yep, it was him, all right. And he was headed straight into Camo’s.
Was Trixie waiting in the van? Summer was dying to find out, or to follow Ray into the creepy animal store. Well, sort of. But she couldn’t, even for a peek, not with Juliette-Margot in the car. If those two were dangerous—and there was a really good chance they were—she had to get the kid out of here.
The door closed behind Ray. “Hey, JM, hand me my phone,” Summer said. “It’s in my bag there next to you.”
“Juliette-Margot cannot find it.”
“Okay, just give me the whole bag,” Summer said. She needed to call Detective Donovan, pronto.
She couldn’t find her cell at first, either, until her hand brushed against it between the leather and the torn lining. Jeez, outlet bags were worthless.
And just her luck. The phone was totally out of juice—she didn’t have a car recharger anymore and she’d left her other one plugged into the wall back at Dorothy’s condo.
Not only could she not call Detective Donovan, but if anything bad happened with Ray or Trixie, she couldn’t call 911, either.
“Do you have your belt on nice and tight, JM?” Summer asked. The second the little girl nodded,
she peeled—carefully—out of the parking lot with a MINI Cooper—level roar.
Trixie and Ray weren’t going to get away this time.
*
“It’s not your fault, dear,” Dorothy said to Summer as her friend opened the door of the MINI for her in front of Camo’s Exotic Pets and Supplies. “You did the right thing by coming straight home and keeping Juliette-Margot safe.”
“I know,” Summer said, sounding glum. “But the van is gone now.”
“Well, I’m sure Detective Donovan has already been here,” Dorothy added, even though she wasn’t quite as confident on that count. The detective had been out when they called him from her condo, and they’d had to settle for leaving an urgent message with Merle.
It wouldn’t surprise her if Gladys had beaten all three of them here to question Ray and Trixie. Hopefully, she wouldn’t end up like poor Lorella.
“So, should we just walk in?” Summer hesitated at the black metal door. “I am not looking at any snake. Or gators, either, even if they’re baby ones.”
“Of course,” Dorothy said. “Ray doesn’t know us, and we’re just browsing.”
“Do you think he’s going to believe that, with all these creepy animals?” Summer asked. “Even Ray can’t be that dumb. And what if Trixie’s in there with him? She’ll recognize us for sure.”
“We could always say we had a ladies’ room emergency, then, I suppose,” Dorothy said. “And if Trixie is here, of course, we’ll politely ask her what happened to her Montana plans.”
Summer took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “But if there are any snakes loose in here, we’re leaving.”
“Nonsense,” Dorothy murmured. “These exotic animal businesses are strictly regulated. I’m sure they do regular inspections.” She tried not to notice the Enter at Your Own Risk sign behind the bars of the window to the right.
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Summer said as she pulled the door open and they stepped inside.
It took a few moments for Dorothy’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. The store was jammed wall to wall with plastic cages, terrariums, aquariums, and enormous wire crates inhabited by snakes, lizards, spiders, and all types of unusual creatures. A few were spotlit with individual, differently hued bulbs.
Permanently Booked Page 9
