“Good luck!” Rob says as he walks toward the crying boy.
“Who knows? Mr. Maple might be calling me in because I’m being promoted for all my great work this morning. What do you think, Cheryl?”
“I don’t even know what you did this morning, but I’ll tell you what,” Cheryl says. “He didn’t seem all that happy.”
Similar to Mr. Davenport, Mr. Maple can be very intimidating. I guess you have to be when you’re running such a grand hotel. Mr. Maple also has very strong opinions. He likes what he likes. The Crossed Palms Resort has been in his family for a long time.
Mr. Maple’s office is located on the second floor of the hotel. The door has no signage whatsoever. If you are called to his office you have to figure out where it is. I’ve only been to Mr. Maple’s office once. I guess I must have been around six years old. I got as many kids together as I could for some go-kart racing. The final race had me competing against Sugar Maple. That’s right, Mr. Maple has a daughter my age. We were actually friends until I beat her fair and square. Sugar didn’t like it, so she squealed about the whole thing. I got a big talking-to, and from that day, Sugar and I became sworn enemies. Needless to say, I’m not feeling all that great being called in again. At least Cheryl is with me this time.
“What’s this thing about you and Delphine Lucerne?” he says before the door has a chance to close behind us. Mr. Maple is a short man, and his shortness is made even more obvious by the giant chair he insists on sitting in. He has a pencil-thin mustache with slight twirls at the ends. His suit is tailor-made for him, and yet it still overwhelms his small frame. None of this matters. Mr. Maple is an imposing figure, whatever his height. “I thought Walter Tooey told the staff they are not to approach or talk to Delphine Lucerne.”
“Delphine Lucerne is here?” Cheryl gasps. Mr. Maple huffs a bit, and Cheryl composes herself.
“I didn’t approach her,” I say. “See, a photographer tried to get her picture, and Mr. Davenport threw away his cigar, and she practically tripped over it.”
Mr. Maple presses the palms of his hands flat on his desk like he’s the commander of a strategic war room.
“Delphine Lucerne specifically asked for you, and because of this, you are to represent Crossed Palms Resort. Do you know what that means?”
I nod.
“There will be no fooling around,” Mr. Maple continues. “Cheryl, I want you to be in constant communication with Goldie. Anything Ms. Lucerne wants, you are to make sure it arrives before she even finishes her sentence. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Maple.”
“And another thing. Goldie, you are not to make Ms. Lucerne think of anything stressful or involve her in any of your schemes. Absolutely no detour from the schedule. She needs to be on that set ready to work. You have the tendency to get distracted.”
Distracted? Boy, is Mr. Maple wrong about me. I’m enthusiastic, aware, alert, smart, organized, and outgoing. Sure, my curiosity gets me into sticky situations, but it’s all for the betterment of the Crossed Palms Resort.
“I will do my job, Mr. Maple. I promise to escort Delphine Lucerne to the set without any hiccups or drama or funny business.”
He stares at me for a full minute. I stare back. I feel like if I blink, I will fail. So I don’t.
“I’m going to keep my eye on you,” he finally says. “One screwup and you are out of here.”
Wow, this meeting really took a turn. I don’t want to get fired.
“Okay, back to your positions.”
And with that, Mr. Maple dismisses us from his office.
Outside, Cheryl lets out a long breath. “I thought for sure I was going to faint.”
“You and me both. And did you notice? There were pictures of Sugar everywhere.”
“Goldie! Why are you focusing on Sugar when we have way more important things to think about?”
“I know, I know!” I point to my eyes. “I can’t help that I’ve got hawk eyes. Besides, I’m nervous. He said the f word. Fired. Talk about pressure.”
“True. So Delphine Lucerne. What is she like?” Cheryl whispers as we walk past a sea creature heading toward the valet.
“She’s a regular girl, like you and me, with freckles and a love for daisies,” I say.
“A regular girl? That’s not possible when you are on the big screen and everyone knows your name.”
“I’m serious, Cheryl. Wait until you meet her. You’ll see what I mean.”
“Not if Mr. Maple or Mr. Davenport has anything to do with it. They’ll keep her caged up in her suite and on the set,” she says. “She won’t even be able to enjoy herself.”
Cheryl is right.
“Well, Mr. Maple did say we are to take care of her. It’s on us to help her see a little bit of St. Pascal.”
“I don’t know, Goldie.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything yet. Just be prepared. You never know what Delphine Lucerne will want to see during her stay at the Crossed Palms. While you think of the possibilities, I’ve got a date with a Mr. Santiago and some bees!”
I head off toward the south side of the hotel, wishing a good morning to the sea creatures I meet along the way.
Chapter Seven
“HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT BEES?”
Delphine is dressed in yet another glamorous outfit. This time, she’s not wearing black, but a beautiful blue dress with a matching scarf tied around her neck. She has a really tiny waist, made all the tinier with a cinched belt.
“Excuse me?” Delphine laughs. “Bees?”
It’s eleven thirty AM and it’s time to take Delphine to the Mermaid Club, and I’ve got a plan. All I need is her approval. I hope she’s game.
“Yes, those flying bugs that pollinate flowers,” I say.
“I don’t think I like it when they sting if that’s what you’re getting at,” she says.
“Because of our unwelcome guest this morning, it’s important we get you to the Mermaid Club without anyone seeing you,” I say. “Not an easy task. It took a bit of planning, but I think I’ve figured out how. I’ve got an idea.”
Delphine listens intensely. I’m so glad Mr. Davenport is with Walter, huffing and puffing over the swimming cap, and not here. I can only imagine what he would think of my proposal.
I grab the oversize bag I’ve brought with me and dump the contents onto Delphine’s bed. Delphine stares at the clothing. I lift the beekeeper’s hat and show it to her.
“This is from Mr. Santiago. He’s the hotel’s beekeeper in charge of tending to the beehive on the property,” I say. “He was generous enough to let me borrow these two suits for the day. I’ll have to bring them back in one piece, of course. One for me. And one for you.”
At first Delphine starts to giggle; then the giggle turns into a hearty laugh. Maybe I’m asking too much. She’s a movie star for goodness’ sake. She doesn’t want to shove herself into a beekeeper’s uniform just to avoid roving journalists. Does she?
“Now, I’m not too sure how I feel about placing that thing on my head,” she says. “What will the bees think? I would hate to confuse them.”
To demonstrate, I place the hat over mine. “See? Not a problem.” I yell this because with the beekeeper hat on, it feels as if I’m in a submarine. Communication is going to be a problem. We’ll have to come up with signs.
“We will put these on. Walk across the hotel and into the waiting car with the driver who will drive us over to the Mermaid Club,” I say. “The good thing is no one will notice us. They will think we are simply beekeepers on our way to collect honey.”
Delphine takes hold of the suit. “What will you think of next?” she says. “Okay, Goldie, I’m game.”
“Great! We should probably come up with a couple of hand gestures. Thumbs-up for everything is okay. Thumbs-down if it isn’t,” I say, scratching my head. “What else?”
“You know what my favorite thing to do was when I was your age? Besides swimming?” Delphine asks. “D
ressing up for Halloween. I think it’s why I love acting so much. It’s all pretending.”
“Being a house detective is kind of the same. I sure love disguises. Shall we?”
We both put on our suits. Thank goodness Mr. Santiago is a small man. When Delphine’s ready, I give her a thumbs-up, and she in turn does the same. The security guards were alerted to my plan beforehand. They are to case the surrounding areas and make sure there are no surprises hiding in the bushes or anywhere else for that matter.
I suddenly start to giggle, which in turn makes Delphine laugh. I love how laughter is contagious, but I’m at work, so I try to contain it. I try my best to keep a straight face, but we both look ridiculous. And, boy, it sure is hot in this thing. How do beekeepers do this? Delphine steps out of the hotel first. She honestly looks as if she were taking her first steps on Mars. She stops in front of the roses and leans in as though she is smelling their fragrance. Then she does a little turn. Funny how even in a beekeeper suit Delphine exudes movie magic and grace. She takes an elaborate bow. I point her toward the path that leads to the hotel entrance.
We are almost by the lobby. Most of the guests, including the mermaid and sea creature having a chat by the fountain, don’t pay us any mind. I guess with all the swamp things and mermaids walking around, what’s weird about a couple of beekeepers? We’re basically boring hotel workers to them.
The driver is right where he said he would be. I can feel the pool of sweat dripping down my back, and I can’t wait to take this thing off. I didn’t really have to wear the suit, but I figured I would keep Delphine company. Solidarity. Our driver was smart and covered the windows with these cute little curtains to conceal us. As soon as we enter the car, I tear off the hat. My face is slick with sweat.
“Oh my, that was something!” Delphine exclaims as she pulls off her hat, too. “Who would have thought walking around in a beekeeper’s outfit would be such work?”
“It was fun, but, boy, am I sweaty,” I say.
“A while back, I had to play Marie Antoinette for a theater production on Broadway. I almost never do theater but I did this show,” she says. “Anyway, the corset and the dress were so heavy. It was like carrying milk crates. It reminded me of my days working at the five-and-dime, stocking the shelves. So many heavy boxes. I used to do it by myself. Costumes are so tricky. You just have to learn how to manage them and not let them manage you.”
I can totally picture Delphine working at the five-and-dime. To be such a great swimmer and dancer, you must have strength. Her arms may be concealed in her beekeeper’s uniform, but Delphine has muscles.
“Do you ever miss working at the store?” I ask.
Delphine touches up her hair. “I do sometimes. I think I miss home more than the store. I miss the luxury of time. Time to fish. Time to take a dip in the pool,” she says. “Time for adventures. It seems my time is spent on the set pretending, instead of enjoying it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the work I do. Like I said, who doesn’t like to pretend?”
The drive is very short. Not long enough to really get into an in-depth conversation with Delphine, but long enough to learn a few things: She loves disguises, she misses her home, and she has a great laugh.
As the driver reaches the Mermaid Club, we can see a large crowd has formed outside. Movie madness is hitting St. Pascal and everyone wants in on the action. The driver knows well enough to drive past the crowd and head to the rear of the club.
“We’re here,” I say. “We should place the hats back even though we are going through the Mermaid Club’s private entrance. Ready?”
“Ready!” she says.
Delphine follows me. We take the same entrance Mom and her coworkers use to avoid anyone seeing them out of their mermaid costumes. Thankfully, there are no surprises. Once inside, we take off the hats and uniforms. With a flick of her hair, Delphine is back to being a glamorous movie star, and I’m back to being Goldie. I store the uniforms in a safe place.
“This way,” I say. Delphine follows me until we reach the door marked ENTRANCE and I push it open.
Wow! I take it all in. The Mermaid Club is no longer the Mermaid Club. It has been transformed into an aquatic underwater world fit for a queen. The tables and booths have been taken away, and in their place are grand rock formations. Walls have been draped with moss and bright coral-like plants. Everything is in an oceanic blue hue. Two majestic thrones in turquoise are in front of the water tank.
As soon as we appear, movie people immediately rush to Delphine.
“Ms. Lucerne, are you okay? Do you need anything? Are you thirsty?”
The questions are never ending. They don’t really wait for her to answer, they just ask and ask, primping her hair and offering her things. A glass of water with a straw in it. A tiny bite of a sandwich.
“Please, everyone, no need to fuss,” she says. “Goldie here has been doing a fine job taking care of me. Now, where am I needed?”
A very fashionable woman with super-short bangs, a pin cushion on her wrist, and a measuring tape around her neck approaches Delphine.
“We must dress you,” she says with a heavy French accent. “Yes?”
“Goldie, this is Edna Blanchett. She is in charge of all the glamorous costumes.”
“Nice to meet you. I—”
Before I can tell her how much I love the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau, Ms. Blanchett takes Delphine by the hand. I follow them to the dressing room, which has been cleared of the usual Mermaid Club costumes and accessories. Delphine’s countless outfits hang up on a wooden pole. The vanity table is overrun with makeup and a long line of different types of wigs. Long hair wigs. Short hair wigs. Multicolored wigs. What a field day I would have with these wigs.
Soon Edna Blanchett and a couple of her assistants bring different fabrics and lay them against Delphine’s frame. Delphine slips off her dress and starts trying on the different costumes, each one more elaborate than the next. So much gold and sequins and metallics. The women pin things and cut materials. Ms. Blanchett never cracks a smile, not once.
“Ouch!” Delphine exclaims. “Please be careful with those pins.”
“Impossible. Working in this small room with such little light is a hazard,” Edna says. “There’s not enough time.”
“You always seem to make it work,” Delphine says. “I believe in you.”
Ms. Blanchett continues to complain while sewing the dress right onto Delphine’s body. I get nervous every time she wields the large steel scissors and snips off the bottom of the dress without so much as a warning to Delphine.
“At Powerhouse Productions they allowed me my freedom.”
“We’re part of the Baldwin Studios now,” Delphine says, trying to calm Edna down.
“Yes, and therein lies the problem,” Edna says. She continues to work, muttering French words to herself that I can’t make out. Delphine tries to soothe Edna’s worries to no avail.
“Voilà. You are ready.”
The dress is perfect.
Next up, the makeup artists are excited to transform Delphine’s face with vibrant green eye shadow and bold red lips.
“Wow!” I say when they finish.
“These artists know what they’re doing,” Delphine says. “Thank you, ladies.”
There’s a loud knock on the door. “Stand by for the chapeau.”
With Delphine’s hair trapped underneath a net, her hairstylist selects a flowing black wig for her to wear. Minutes later, two men enter the dressing room holding the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. It’s my second time seeing it, and I’m still blown away. Edna takes the diamond swimming cap and places it on Delphine’s head.
“So much drama for this,” Edna says.
“Too much,” they say in unison. The women both roll their eyes.
“Shall we?” Delphine asks. Edna nods a reluctant approval.
And with a snap of a finger, Delphine is no longer the freckled young woman who giggled while twirling in a beekeeper’s outfit j
ust this morning. She is the Queen of the Mermaids, regal and stunning.
“Clear for Delphine Lucerne!” one of the workers screams, alerting the crew. The movie magic is about to begin, and I’ve got a front-row seat. Unfortunately, so does Mr. Davenport.
“Make sure you get a tight shot of the crown. No pulling back,” Mr. Davenport yells at the director, who is seated beside him. With cigar in hand, he keeps pointing toward Delphine while she gets situated on the set. “Hey, you, off the set!”
Oh boy. Mr. Davenport has spotted me.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Davenport,” I say. “It’s great to see you, too!”
“Get her out of there,” he says.
Trying to find the best place to stand and not get noticed is going to be a challenge. Every inch of the set is being overrun by the crew or camera operators, costume designers, and makeup people.
“The extras are getting ready over there.” One of the crew members addresses me and points backstage.
I don’t bother correcting him that I’m not an extra. And as much as I would love to stay on set and watch Delphine in all her splendor, I’m on the job. It’s important to keep my eyes and ears open. The Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau is out in the open and so is Delphine. I need to make sure they both remain safe. So I head backstage.
The backstage is an assembly line of monster-and-mermaid makeup mayhem. Men and women are in line waiting to sit down in three chairs. The makeup crew works overtime to get each of them prepped and ready. In another corner, the costume designers suit up the monsters in sea creature outfits. Mermaids try on different fins. It’s a kaleidoscopic swirl of color and disorder.
“I don’t remember there being a kid on the set list today.” A woman taps a pencil on a clipboard.
“Oh no, I’m not part of the movie. I’m security.”
She looks me up and down. “Clever,” she says.
I walk away and keep inspecting the backstage, taking inventory of everyone. Observation is key when it comes to being a detective. It’s important to pay attention to what is said, and who is saying it. I notice how one of the extras insists on wearing the most glamorous fins available, ones that are meant for Delphine.
The Hotel Whodunit Page 6
