“Goldie! I’m so surprised to see you here.” She quickly walks over to me and grabs both my hands. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. Terrible news. How is she holding up? And how are you?”
“I don’t have much time,” I say. “Delphine, can you tell me a little bit about Edna Blanchett?”
“Edna? Why do you want to ask me about Edna?”
“How long have you been working with Edna?”
“She has been with me since I started working in the studio system,” she says. “In fact, she was the very first person I met at Powerhouse Productions when I auditioned for a commercial many years ago. She dressed me in a milkmaid outfit. The milkmaid outfit was way too risqué and Edna found a brilliant way to cover me up.”
They have history. This is a good thing.
“Although it may not always look like it to outsiders, Edna has always treated me like a person and not just a prop to position in front of the camera,” she adds. “I can always count on her.”
“So, she came with you when you transferred over to Baldwin Studios,” I say.
“Yes, of course. I insisted.”
She insisted. Wait a minute.
“Delphine, you asked Edna to leave her job at Powerhouse to join you over at Baldwin Studios?” I say. “Did she want to come?”
“Well, it definitely wasn’t a simple ask. You see, Edna built up quite the costume design department at Powerhouse. The very first of its kind,” Delphine says. “She didn’t want to leave.”
Edna didn’t want to leave and yet she did. I wonder if Edna was forced to leave Powerhouse.
“Why did Edna decide to follow you over to Baldwin Studios? Why did she leave behind everything she worked so hard to build?”
“Because I asked her to.”
Delphine can’t possibly think this is why Edna left. That she would leave a job that she had loved for so long, and an entire department she grew, to go work for a studio she didn’t seek out. Where she would have to start over. It doesn’t ring true.
“You said she didn’t want to leave,” I say. “Wouldn’t she feel a bit of resentment for having to start at a new job?”
“No, no, no. Edna is not like that at all,” Delphine says. She nervously toys with her hair. “She loves the work we are doing. You’ve seen the costumes. They are truly magnificent. Her very best work to date.”
She’s got a point. Edna has designed beautiful works of art. And yet, if I go through all the interactions I’ve witnessed between Edna and Delphine, she always has something nasty to say about Baldwin Studios and the movie.
“Delphine, are you sure Edna wanted to work at the new studio? Is there anything she might have said or done to make you think she’s had doubts?”
“Goldie, I think you’ve got this all wrong. Edna would never do anything to jeopardize her work or mine,” she says. “I understand you need to point fingers, but you are looking in the wrong places.”
“Mom is being accused of taking the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. I have to consider all avenues to clear her name,” I say. “I’m not being mean. I’m doing my job. Can you help me? Does Edna wear gloves?”
“Gloves? This is foolish.”
“What about the choreographer, Katherine? Would she have any reason to sabotage the movie? How about Mr. Davenport? I mean, you did almost trip from his cigar the first time I met you. What if this is a whole elaborate hoax to cash in on your insurance and—”
“That’s enough, Goldie. I’ve heard enough. I think you should go.”
The room suddenly feels cold. I didn’t expect this reaction from Delphine. It’s hard to think anyone would want to cause her harm, especially if they have been longtime friends. I can’t help thinking of what Cheryl said earlier: Envy is a green-eyed monster.
“Just because you are surrounded by flowers,” I say, “doesn’t mean it’s all coming up daisies.”
Delphine turns away from me. She has a troubled look on her face.
“Good luck with filming today. If you think of anything else, please let me know,” I say. Delphine doesn’t respond.
At the door is another delivery of daisies.
“Another delivery?” Delphine asks. She sounds tired, annoyed even. She briefly looks at the card and tears it up. She takes the bouquet and adds it to one of the many vases in the room.
Leaving Delphine with all those flowers gets me thinking. I’m pretty sure that the daisies are all from Mr. Davenport. He’s the only person who technically knows she is staying at the Alcove Suite. And Delphine’s reaction to the delivery is clearly one of annoyance, similar to how she reacted to Mr. Davenport when I first escorted her to her suite. If only I got to see that card before she ripped it to shreds.
And speaking of Mr. Davenport… He’s a suspect in more ways than one. This may be far out there, but what if he’s the one who wants to jeopardize the movie? He wasn’t happy filming in St. Pascal. I’d bet more than anything the diamond swimming cap is insured for a whole lot of money. What if he had the cap stolen? Can he still recoup the insurance money? I’m not sure, but it’s definitely something to look into. Plus, I found that torn matchbook at the fuse box. I know anyone could have taken Crossed Palms matches, but Mr. Davenport’s always smoking a cigar and I haven’t forgotten his glove box full of matchbooks.
“Buenos días, Ada,” I say. Ada is busy working on dinner table displays, tiny bouquets that won’t overwhelm the guests’ tables but that are beautiful enough to add the right ambience. I’ve learned a lot of florist talk from listening and watching Ada work over the years.
“Buenos días, Goldie. You’ve been a very busy girl,” Ada says while slipping a flower into my lapel.
“Ada, you know exactly who orders flowers at Crossed Palms Resort, correct?” I say.
“Of course. Every flower that leaves this place has been blessed by these hands,” she says. “They leave here to give love to another person.”
“The daisies. Who ordered the daisies for our special guest staying in the suite?” I ask. Ada completes one of the centerpieces and starts another.
“Someone really loves daisies. I can’t seem to keep them in this shop long enough,” she says. “In fact, I had to order from my outside vendors to fulfill all the orders. So many daisies.”
I carefully place the finished centerpiece inside a box to be delivered to the hotel’s restaurants.
“Es un poquito raro,” she says.
“Raro?” This is one Spanish word I can’t seem to place. “What does raro mean?”
“Raro means strange,” she says. “The order was a bit strange.”
“How so?”
“The person who placed the order is staying right here in Crossed Palms,” she says. “I know you’re going to say that that’s not too strange. Well, what was a little bit raro is that they insisted on keeping the order anonymous. So much money for the special guest to never know exactly from whom, especially when the person is staying in the same hotel. Seems bizarre and unromantic to me.”
“Wasn’t it the muy importante man who I met at Walt’s office? You know, the big guy with the watch?” I mime pulling out an invisible pocket watch and opening it. Ada shakes her head.
“No. It wasn’t him. It was someone else.”
Mr. Davenport isn’t the person sending Delphine daisies. I would think he would be the only person who would know about Delphine’s love of daisies and her special connection to them since she was a child. “Who ordered all those daisies?”
Ada looks around the room, making sure no one is within earshot.
“The only thing he insisted on was for the note to say, A return to your glorious past,” Ada says. “He didn’t want anyone to find out. A surprise.”
The past. Someone from Delphine’s past.
A familiar scent of a cigar permeates the air. The sound of stomping shoes draws nearer and nearer.
“Who said anything about reporters?” Mr. Davenport says. I don’t want to have any interaction
with him. Before I can explain myself to Ada, I duck underneath her table. Mr. Davenport stops in front of the floral shop before banging on Walt’s door. But Walt is surely elsewhere trying to find the diamond cap, just like me. “Hello?! Hello?!”
After a few more pounds on the door, Mr. Davenport finally gives up. He walks away in a huff. And when he does, I slowly emerge from under the table.
“Ese hombre. He’s going to make himself sick with all that rage,” Ada says, clucking her tongue. She waves her hand about to get the smoke from the cigar out of the shop.
“He sure is,” I say.
“Pobre flores,” Ada says. “Cigar smoke is never good for flowers.”
The flowers are definitely innocent bystanders in this drama. The flowers and my mom. Although Ada may be unable to share the order form, I know someone who might have the information.
Chapter Fourteen
CHERYL IS BUSY GOING OVER THE MANY CLASSES A person can take at Crossed Palms to two young men.
“Cha-cha lessons begin at twelve PM. But perhaps you are looking for a more active workout? Our tennis instructors have played in various tournaments, and I have only heard excellent feedback about their coaching skills. You can also learn horseback riding.…”
The couple doesn’t seem all that keen to try any of those things.
“What about snorkeling?” The man wears a fedora and a relaxed suit while his partner wears slacks and polo shirt. They are in vacation mode. I hope they will pick an activity quickly. I need to speak to Cheryl. Stat.
“Unfortunately, we are not offering snorkeling because the beach area is off-limits today,” Cheryl explains.
“What are they doing over there? Does that have to do with all these sea creatures?” he asks.
“We are not allowed to say, but the beach will be fully available tomorrow. Would you like me to book you a snorkeling package for then?”
“Pierre is the best diving instructor around,” I add, to help seal the deal.
The couple nods and Cheryl signs them up for a full day of swimming and snorkeling.
“Cheryl! Do you have a list of the floral orders?” I ask.
“Flowers?” She tilts her head, confused.
“Daisies. A guest staying at the Crossed Palms knows about Delphine’s love for daisies. The weird thing is, how would they know to deliver the flowers to the Alcove Suite? I just assumed the daisies were a gift from Mr. Davenport, but Ada said no.”
Cheryl digs into her ledger of activities. She locates the floral orders and searches for daisies.
“See. No name,” she says, pointing to the order of daisies. “Sorry, Goldie.”
I grab the ledger and take a good look myself. Cheryl is right. The person who ordered the daisies did so a day before Delphine was due to check in to the resort. It could have been anyone. I look at the ledger for Katherine, the choreographer, or for any alias that would make sense, but nothing pops out.
“But wait. She just received a new order, like just this second!” I search the ledger and find it. “It’s listed right here. Nine AM, order via phone.”
Cheryl racks her brain. “Nine AM. I’ve received so many calls today. But wait. Accent. I remember an accent. The person who made the call definitely had an accent.”
“Do you remember the person’s name?” I say.
Cheryl shakes her head. “Sorry, Goldie.”
“No need to apologize,” I say. “At least we know it was someone with an accent. I’m getting closer. I can feel it.”
A family interrupts our conversation and proceeds to ask Cheryl about restaurants.
“Later, Cheryl,” I say.
I have to figure this out. Mom is depending on me. There is no way she will be heading to jail for something she didn’t do. No way. Time to go over my clues again.
I walk to the lounge and ask for a glass of iced water. I sit on one of the chairs and pull out my pad. What am I missing? I write this in my pad and underline it three times.
A white glove. Weird footprints. Blackouts. And now a person with an accent, but I must also consider that a thief might use a fake accent to throw everyone off. What am I not seeing? A cold wet nose nuzzles up on my ankle. Clementine, Miss Dupart’s poodle, greets me.
“Clementine, do you know who stole the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau?” I whisper in her fuzzy face. Clementine responds by licking my hand.
“Goldie Vance, how are you doing?” Miss Dupart asks. She’s wearing another mint-green ensemble. Mint-green hat. Mint-green slacks and matching sandals. She takes the seat across from me. Clementine jumps on her lap and settles in.
“I’ve seen better days, Miss Dupart,” I say.
“So have we all,” she says. “As you can tell, I wasn’t asked back on the set today. Too bad for the director and the movie itself. A travesty is what I like to call it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. At least you were able to get some good shots yesterday,” I say. I stop and think for a second, and suddenly feel a little sick. I didn’t consider it before, but Miss Dupart is definitely a suspect. She was there during the blackouts and when Delphine walked off the set. I’ve been blinded by the fact that I know her so well. I hate myself for asking, but I have to. “Miss Dupart, when did you last see the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau?”
“My dear, I’ve already gone through this with Walter Tooey. He was very thorough with his questions yesterday,” she says. “Besides, I believe diamonds can only be given as a gift. These were a gift from my dear friend Frida, a brilliant poet from Chicago.” She points to teardrop diamond earrings dangling from her ears.
“How were the other actors on the set? And what did you think about the costume designer?”
“Edna Blanchett. A legend. A legend in wardrobe and design,” Miss Dupart says. “Honestly, I was surprised to see she had left Powerhouse to work at Baldwin Studios. She ruled the costumes there.”
“Did you ever notice how the chapeau never fully stayed on Delphine’s head?” I say. “Didn’t you think that was odd? Her job is to make sure it’s perfect for Delphine. Right?”
Miss Dupart pats the now-sleeping Clementine, who snores.
“Funnily, I thought they would use a decoy. Most movies wouldn’t want to damage such a priceless piece by placing it in the water,” she says. “Edna Blanchett tried her best to secure the cap. It wasn’t until one of the extras, a Mr. Henri was his name, I believe… Anyway, he suggested using glue. He was such a help. So well versed about the diamond swimming cap, right down to dimensions and quality of stones. Such a funny thing coming from a man in a sea-creature outfit.”
Holy Neptune’s trident.
“Wait, Miss Dupart. Can you repeat what you just said?”
“This was a gift from Frida,” she whisper-talks.
“No, not that part. The stuff about Henri,” I say. “The sea-creature extra.”
She adjusts her rings.
“Well, Henri was always ready for his close-up,” she says, adjusting her hat to protect herself from the sun. “In fact, he was the first in line to take the shuttle to shoot this morning. But Edna Blanchett wasn’t very keen about having her assistant be a sea creature. They were arguing quite passionately, in the language of love.”
“The language of love?” My heart starts to race out of control.
“Yes, yes, French, of course,” she says. “Goldie, you met him. He was right beside your mother and me the whole time we filmed our pivotal scenes. Remember?”
Wait a minute. Images start flooding my brain like a fast-paced movie sequence. A sea creature speaking with a woman with severe bangs on the day I tried to find Miss Dupart’s lost ring in the back of her car. Then there was that Grumpy Costume Designer Guy when I was backstage with all the extras. He was there complaining about Baldwin Studios. But he wasn’t a sea creature. He was Edna’s assistant. But he was right beside Delphine before they filmed the water-tank scenes. Delphine thanked Edna for the wonderful work she did on the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. French accent
s!
“What did you say his name was?” I get up, ready to run back to Cheryl.
“Henri. He said he spent his life working in movies since he was a bébé. You know the type of man who wants to prove his knowledge by speaking too much?” Miss Dupart says. “That’s what Henri is like. A man who desperately wants to tell a story. I, being a gracious observer, always listen.”
He was super talkative. I was so preoccupied with getting rid of Scoops Malone, I completely overlooked him. The strange webbed footprints. They were sea-creature footprints. A sea creature close to Delphine and well versed in her life, and who knows all about costumes.
It’s all starting to makes sense. My brain snaps and revs up like a sports car engine. Why didn’t it dawn on me before? The grumpy assistant, Henri, was always right by the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. The only time I didn’t see him was after the blackout. He wasn’t there when we interrogated everyone. He must have slipped out of the club right as I entered, alerting everyone about Scoops. How did I miss it?
“Did he mention anything else about Delphine?”
“He went on and on about his time working at Powerhouse. He called it the crème de la crème of making movies,” Miss Dupart says. “Personally, I’ve never been one to stay loyal to just one place. A girl has to keep moving. I don’t blame Delphine for doing so. It’s all part of the Hollywood game, but this fellow seemed to think Baldwin Studios was beneath them all.”
This is a case of the green-eyed monster. Jealousy made Edna Blanchett and Henri want to sabotage Delphine’s new movie. They were willing to do anything from causing blackouts to stealing the diamond swimming cap. Scoops Malone was right. I had to look beyond the usual suspects.
A sea creature/costume designer conspiracy!
“Thanks, Miss Dupart! You saved the day!” I hug her, sorry I ever doubted her innocence. I hug Clementine, too, who wakes up with a startled doggie expression.
“Oh my. What did I say?” Miss Dupart exclaims.
“You said it all!”
Chapter Fifteen
The Hotel Whodunit Page 12
