Luna-Sea

by Jessica Sherry

  Noise from the backyard halted our conversation – a loud clanging like someone was banging on a gong. Sadie huffed and rolled her eyes. “Damn it. I swear she waits ‘till I got company to make as much noise as possible. She’s angry at me for callin’ her cats rats with claws.”

  “Who?”

  “Delores Kenning,” Sadie spat out. “She’s whacking her pots and pans back there. Does it everyday ‘cause she says it keeps the demons away.”

  This, I had to see. I left Sadie and went to the back kitchen window. Sure enough, across Sadie’s yard and over the rusty chain-linked fence, I spied Delores Kenning – pot in one hand and a stainless steel ladle in the other, marching across her congested yard as if putting on a parade. Her odd property was perpendicular to Sadie’s and her neighbors’, her unkempt lawn stretching out well beyond where I could see.

  “Delilah, would you please go tell that crazy woman to shut up?” Sadie called out to me. “She’s givin’ me a headache!”

  I left Sadie’s kitchen through the backdoor, crossed the yard and stood at the fence until I got Delores’ attention. She wore a floppy green housecoat, slippers, and a porch-peevers’ expression.

  “Good-morning, Mrs. Kenning,” I greeted when she stopped her banging.

  “Get The Treehouse Massacre, yet?” she asked hopefully.

  “Um, no. It’s out of print.”

  She sighed. “Just as well. That one’ll give me nightmares.”

  “Mrs. Kenning, do you remember the night of the Peacock party?” I asked slowly.

  “Wore my grandmother’s mink,” she replied with a smile.

  “Right, it looked lovely,” I returned. “Remember how you said you saw demons stuff a body in the trunk?”

  “Oh, yes,” she cooed. “I see the demons runnin’ ‘round here all the time. They scare my cats and knock over my gnomes. Look!” She rushed over to a fallen garden gnome. Its belly was cracked open and there was a large chunk of ceramic missing. “They come up that there path.” She pointed to a tree-lined area beside Sadie’s house. I walked over to the corner of her lot. In between the two houses, hidden by a thin line of trees and thickets, there was a narrow pathway that began at the street and met up with the end of Delores Kenning’s chain-linked fence. It opened up to her exposed yard, where her gnome had been taken out. It was littered with neon pellets.

  “So, the demons take this path,” I tried to understand, “and cut through your yard?”

  “Yes, they torment my gnomes and cats, and then take off for the woods,” she returned, pointing to the forest – the property belonging to the Peacock. Clearly, this is the path that Ricky and J.J. use to go on their air-soft hunts.

  I took a shot in the dark and asked, “Ever see a redheaded woman around here?”

  “No, can’t say that I have.”

  “But, you did say you saw a body being stuffed in a trunk?” I prodded.

  “I saw a man’s body,” she replied, shaking her head at me like I should’ve known. “That angry fellow from the party, the one who caused all that hubbub, he’s the one who got stuffed in the trunk. No redheads. The Irish gnomes protect the redheads.”

  It didn’t make any sense that she saw David Love being stuffed in a trunk. David Love was fine, and hadn’t pressed any assault charges. Of course, David Love had been sporting a few bruises.

  “The demons are after the one who lives over yonder,” Delores Kenning told me, pointing to Molly Tubbs’ house.

  “Were they the ones who beat her up?”

  She nodded. “This time. They’ve been there before, too.” She started banging the pot again, and over the noise yelled, “Can’t talk about ‘em or else they’ll know.” Delores Kenning went about her marching, and I returned to Sadie’s living room.

  “I still hear bangin’,” Sadie scoffed.

  “Sorry, she is scaring the demons away,” I explained, “and with neighbors like your wheelhouse friends, I don’t blame her.”

  Sadie and I talked for only a few more minutes. I told her that if she ever needed a job, I’d be happy to have her at Beach Read – a gesture that widened her smile.

  Amazingly, Raina and I left at the same time, but despite the plethora of goodies she delivered, she didn’t have the post-do-gooder afterglow I expected.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Raina huffed out, close to tears, and said, “Who knows! Everythin’ was goin’ along just fine and we were havin’ a nice chat and then I mentioned those shoes. Ya know? Like how weird it was that her stock of shoes got stolen at the Cotton Exchange and then she was robbed here at the house, too-”

  “I also thought that was an odd coincidence,” I returned.

  “Well, Molly didn’t appreciate the observation,” Raina returned. “She practically chewed my head off, and then she asked me to leave. I’m sure it was the pain pills talkin’, but it wasn’t very nice.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Good Southern hospitality often took a backseat to the more powerful reality – good Southern dramatics – and like Sadie said, ‘This ain’t Mr. Roger’s neighborhood.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Slender Snipe Eel

  People tend to think forever love’s going to happen without effort. The soulmate effect. Since there is one perfect person for me, then I am naturally perfect for that person. That’s usually when reality crashes down and says, hold on there, missy. It ain’t that simple.

  The slender snipe eel knows what it really means to be in a relationship. The male of this snaky family possesses a unique, bird-like beak. When it’s time for him to find a mate, his mouth shortens, his teeth fall out, and his nose expands (to sniff out the ladies). He not only changes for love, but transforms into someone quite different than he was before. Forever love isn’t so much finding the person who will fit you best, but finding the person worth hefty transformations.

  I needed to be more like the slender snipe eel, in regards to Sam, the island, and the store. I had to be ready to make changes in my life, clean out the drawers of my old life to make way for new and better things, if I ever expected forever love. But, the transformation wasn’t easy going. I kept getting in the way.

  I followed up my visit to Sadie’s with a plethora of errands. Back at Beach Read, Henry had gratefully busied himself giving the new/used chairs and tables I’d purchased a good cleaning. The counter was already donning the freshly washed teacups, pots, and saucers. Sam was on the ladder, draping the lacy doily-type material I’d bought along with white twinkle lights along the spiral staircase.

  “Gosh, boys,” I smiled, “maybe I should make myself scarce more often.”

  “All in a day’s work, my lady,” Henry returned. He had trimmed his beard neatly to the chin. His hair, he’d slicked back, and I realized quite happily that he was practicing his Poirot look.

  Sam descended the ladder and gave me a kiss. “Wanted to help out with a few things before I had to go,” he told me. “I took the clean tables and chairs up to the roof. That’s where you wanted them, right?”

  “Precisely.”

  Sam smiled. “I also added a little something special up there. Hope you like it.”

  “I’m intrigued,” I grinned. “Show me?” Sam nodded, but didn’t take me up to the roof until he’d put the ladder and leftover fabric and lights away in the storage closet.

  On the way up the stairs, I asked, “Did Molly Tubbs report a home invasion?”

  “Home invasion?” Sam repeated. “No. Last call we got from her was the Backwoods Buddy situation.”

  “Huh, I wonder why she didn’t report such a violent crime,” I returned, more to myself.

  Sam smirked. “Really? That’s a tad hypocritical, don’t you think?”

  I huffed. “Okay, okay. I get your point, but she wasn’t shy in dealing with the police in the lost load incident.”

  Sam smiled as we climbed the last of the stairs. “In my experience, people who don’t report crimes ar
e either too traumatized or have something to hide themselves.”

  The rooftop was nicely arranged with dining sets, all mismatched, of course, but that’s how I wanted it – like an eclectic, outside diner in Paris. Around the perimeter of the roof, Sam had installed four posts at the corners that held up strings of white lights that crisscrossed over the roof and bordered the ledge.

  “Wasn’t sure how many lights you wanted,” he explained, “but thought the posts would give us the ability to hang anything: lanterns, twinkle lights, annoying relatives, whatever.” We both laughed.

  “It’s perfect,” I ogled dreamily. “Who would’ve thought you could make a blacktop roof seem almost romantic?”

  Sam wrapped his arms around me, and said, “Don’t need lights for that.” He planted a kiss on my forehead, then my lips. It felt like we were dancing.

  “Wish you didn’t have to go,” I admitted.

  “Wish I never had to go,” he returned.

  “I was thinking about something,” I said, hesitantly. He pulled back a little, but still held on to my waist. “I’ve been kind of reluctant to bring it up, especially considering how little free time you have and how much you do for me already-”

  “What is it? I’d do anything for you,” he urged, with a look that said I was being ridiculous.

  I shrugged. “Well, considering the way my life’s been here so far, not that I expect it to continue as roughly as it’s begun or at least, I hope the worst is over-”

  “Are we talking about the store?” he prodded.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m referring to Psycho Adventures starring Delilah Duffy, three episodes and counting. I need to be more adaptable, more prepared-”

  “Want me to teach you how to use a gun?” he suggested quickly, as though he’d already given the matter a deal of thought. I winced.

  “No,” I shot back, “I don’t like guns, Sam. I mean, obviously I like that you have one, but they aren’t for me. I can barely use my phone. Imagine how stupid I’d be with something that could hurt people.”

  “You’d be fine,” he insisted with more confidence than was reasonable.

  “I’d like to learn self-defense,” I spat out like it had been a glob of peanut butter stuck in my throat. “I don’t like asking-”

  “That’s part of your problem,” Sam cut in, a soft smile on his face. “I wish you’d ask me to help you more often. I’d be happy to teach you some ass-kicking skills. Let’s start Sunday, after church.”

  “That implies actually going to church,” I huffed.

  “Yes,” Sam returned, “you can’t avoid your family forever. You haven’t been to bingo, church, or family dinners in ages-”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “No, I get it,” he said, “but are you really going to let them control you? Besides, you’ve earned some bragging rights now. After Saturday, you’re going to be the talk of the town, in a good way. Why not rub it in a little?”

  I shrugged, and said, “Okay, we’ll go to church and have a good family face-off. I’m sure God’ll love it. And afterwards, you can teach me to beat people up.”

  He laughed. “It’s a plan.”

  Soon, Sam left the island to head to his mysterious adventures in Fayetteville with his army buddy, Mason Cook. I returned to the store to find Henry finishing up the last of the chairs.

  “A message for you, dear,” he said, pointing to a slip of paper on the counter, “but you might be wise to disregard it.”

  I grabbed the slip of paper, and cast Henry an inquisitive look. The Peacock. Room 304. “Who is this from?”

  “Wouldn’t say,” Henry returned, “and he didn’t sound familiar.”

  A strange call for me to meet at the Peacock? It could only mean one thing – someone had information concerning the night of the party and the redheaded woman. As I Jeeped over to the inn, Sam’s words crashed down on me. Please don’t go back to the Peacock again. I fiddled with my necklace, reconsidering. I pulled out my phone, and got as far as the menu screen before I tossed it in the passenger seat. Sam was on his way to Fayetteville to take care of business he couldn’t tell me about, so why should I be so inclined to spill all to him? It would only spawn a fight – him telling me not to do it, and me insisting that I had to – so why go through all the drama? A chance to prove to myself that I wasn’t crazy trumped any transformations tonight.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Flatfish

  The flatfish transforms in a much different way than the slender snipe eel. To protect itself from predators, this fish utilizes its shape, which looks a lot like a grumpy, Dr. Seuss pancake that’s been run over by a steamroller. It lays on the ocean floor, melding into the mud, unseen. Born with one eye on either side of its body, the flatfish transforms depending on what side it likes to lie on. The eye on the dirt-side eventually moves to the side that can see, leaving it blind on one side.

  My eyes fixed in only one direction, I’d become the flatfish.

  The lobby of the Peacock was lightly splattered with employees and guests, but I barreled through all that and went straight to the elevators. I was a woman on a mission, practically bubbling with anticipation. A chance to prove that the redheaded woman existed and that I wasn’t crazy blinded me to other possibilities. What an idiot!

  The nautically themed floor stretched into a long, empty hallway. The navy carpet donning slip knots, and only slightly less dark walls made the corridor feel like a submarine. I rapped on room 304, and when the door opened to reveal the mysterious caller, I belted out a very loud, very angry curse that echoed down that long hallway and seemed to stop time. My hand jumped to my mouth to close it.

  He laughed. “Not the reaction I was hoping for, but you were always one for surprises.” He held his arms open, as if I’d smile and run into them. Instead, I felt sick.

  His eyes widened. “Labor Day weekend, remember? I’ve been trying to call you.” With one hand on my mouth and the other rubbing my stomach, I cringed. The shame of my past moved in over my head like a storm cloud. In my desperation a few months ago – facing murder accusations and a town that wanted to oust me – I’d promised myself to Jonathan Dekker in exchange for his silence about my past. While I had come clean to Sam about the idiotic Labor Day rendezvous I’d agreed to at low, very low, moment, I had bigger fish to fry. A murder to solve, the threat of jail, and a few attempts on my life – I had my hands full. But after getting myself out of those jams, I easily forgot about that one. I hadn’t given Jonathan Dekker any thought – part of my focus-on-the-future attitude – or maybe I just wanted to forget. But, here was my past, slapping me in the face.

  He plastered on his winning smile, and said, “You’re speechless. Come inside and have a drink with me.”

  I shook my head, and sputtered out a weak, “Can’t.”

  “Sure you can,” he insisted. “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

  I rolled my eyes, turned, and started heading back down the hallway. Jonathan grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. He wasn’t rough, but I considered that those self-defense lessons could have come in handy already. A nagging thought ran through my head. Call Sam. Call Sam. But, what could he do?

  “Wait a minute,” he said, growing frustrated. “I came all this way to see you, got this expensive room for us. I’ve missed you, Delilah.”

  “No, you haven’t,” I replied surely. “And I can’t be here.”

  “But, you came,” he argued.

  “Not because I thought you were here,” I debated, needlessly.

  He gave me a well-deserved snide look. “Oh, come on. Who else would it be? A boyfriend?”

  “I do have a boyfriend,” I spat out.

  “And you’re already meeting him in hotel rooms?” Jonathan Dekker grinned and shook his head. “Tisk, tisk Delilah.”

  “No, he’s not like you,” I batted back. “He’s a good and decent man-”

  Jonathan chuckled heavier. “Oh, so if you didn’t think you
were meeting me and you didn’t think you were meeting your boyfriend, then there’s someone else you could have been meeting in a hotel room?” His mischievous grin widened. “I always knew you were easy, but I never pegged you for a slut.” He said it as if he were paying me a compliment. He leaned in closer, grabbing my wrist to make sure I didn’t run, and added, “Excites me.”

  I wriggled out of his grasp, and took two large backwards steps. “Don’t touch me!”

  He shrugged. “Why not? I own you. We have a deal.”

  “I’m backing out.”

  “You can’t,” he insisted pointing at me.

  “Watch me.” I turned and headed back to the elevator. I rammed my finger on the button, but Jonathan grabbed me again, turning me around to face him.

  “You owe me,” he said calmer. “You back out, then I spill my guts to whoever’ll listen, especially that Gazette guy who kept at me. Your head may not be on the chopping block for murder anymore, but I’m sure he’ll still care to print what I have to tell him.”

  “Why?” I begged. “Why do that to me? You’d choose to be a despicable person for the sake of a lay? You? The same man who knew every student in the building by name? Who offered to shave his head if the baseball team won regionals? How could the same man that I once loved for being such a good person, be the asshole standing here trying to blackmail me into sex?”

  He laughed at me and then he said coldly, “You bring out my dark side.” He smiled, as if this, too, was a compliment. Now, two people had told me that I brought out the worst in them; maybe there was something to it. But, I couldn’t think about that now. The elevator pinged behind me, and it was just in time. My hands were shaking. My heart raced and even though I was breathing, it was like I wasn’t getting any air. I needed to get away from him.

  But, he wasn’t going for it. As I tried to step into the elevator, he grabbed my waist and slung me around. Before I could breathe, he was kissing me. I regained my footing, broke free, and slapped him as hard as I could across his face. Twice.