“Yes, I’ve heard something about what happened years ago. You and Meredith should stay away from beaches.” That effort to be flippant didn’t cut it, and she knew it. “Sorry. That’s not nice. What are the odds that someone would attack both of you on a beach? Are the two attacks related?” That possibility had occurred to me, but I’d quickly dismissed it.
“No, I don't believe so. It’s not as though the two incidents happened in the same place or time. It’s been decades since someone attacked me like Meredith. Who told you about the incident on the beach here in Corsario Cove?” More fidgeting.
“My mom and some of her friends were talking about it. I told them Jennifer said you were visiting to spend time with Meredith since you had lived through something similar. I thought Jennifer meant that mess you went through on Valentine’s Day at Arcadia Park. That’s when Mom told me about the other trouble, years ago.” That answered my earlier question. Carolyn had spread the word. Her disclosure prompted a new question from me.
“How did she know about that?”
“Mom wasn’t from around here, but Dad was. That’s how she ended up moving here. Dad was a jerk—a real loser even before he ditched us. I don't remember much about him, but Mom says he used to talk about Corsario Cove like it was heaven on earth. When I left home, she moved here. After a while, I got sick of New York, decided to join Mom here, and opened my shop.”
“When she told you about the attack on the beach, did she mention that song—Love Notes in the Key of Sea?” Before she could answer, Detective Mitchum called out to us from the doorway behind her.
“Carolyn, could you step back here for a second, please?”
“Sure.” She tapped her long, painted nails on the counter a couple of times before her shoulders slumped and she headed into the back room. I was right on her heels.
“Can you tell us who that is?” Mitchum pointed at an image frozen on the screen where they must have been playing back recorded surveillance files.
“Of course. That’s my older brother.” Even though the man in the film was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, something was eerily familiar about him. Could he be the guy on the beach with binoculars that I’d seen the day before? As we continued to peer at that screen, Jack set it in motion again. Carolyn’s brother picked up one of her business cards and slipped it into a pocket of the jacket he wore.
“Were you aware he had taken one of your cards?”
“No, but so what? Why shouldn’t he help me out by…” Carolyn stopped mid-sentence and sucked in a gulp of air.
“What?” Mitchum asked.
“Uh, nothing. Except, that could be my brother's handwriting on the back of the card you showed me. I can’t say for sure.” Her brow almost furrowed—warring with the Botox as she puzzled over the possibility that her brother had written that message.
I was bewildered, too. Not just because some man I’d never heard of before, or met, might have penned that note. It hadn't been a smart idea for Carolyn's brother to write the note on the back of his sister’s business card. That not only led right back to Carolyn, but she was one of the few people who could have recognized his handwriting.
How loose is this guy? I wondered, recalling the crazed look in the eyes of Mallory’s killer who had somehow become convinced that the best way to get away with one murder was to commit another. “Carolyn, you didn’t happen to send me flowers, did you?” She blinked several times as her brain tried to process my question. I must admit that my question seemingly came out of left field.
“Why would I send you flowers?” The emphasis on “you” in that question registered resentment or frustration toward me or the odd situation we were in.
“Because you did, according to the Front Desk attendants at our hotel,” Jack snapped.
“The same arrangement of flowers someone had sent to my office earlier in the day.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” she was getting more annoyed, if her voice was an indication of her feelings. She folded her arms across her chest and took a defiant stance.
“Who else could send flowers using your name, Carolyn?” Mitchum asked. His voice sounded stern. That tone startled her. Confusion replaced defiance as her arms dropped to her side. “My mom, I suppose.”
“What about your brother?” Jack asked. His tone was sharp, too.
“No! I mean, yes! He asked me if he could use my store account to send his girlfriend flowers. They’d had a fight and…”
“Any idea where we can find him?” Jack interrupted. Enough talk. Time to act.
“I’m pretty sure he’s at home with Mom. He’s visiting for a while and doesn’t have a place of his own.” We heard the jingling of the bell that signaled someone had come into the store. Carolyn made a move toward the doorway.
“I’ll be right with you,” she called out in a happy-to-serve-you voice. Before she could take another step, though, music began blaring loudly. I grabbed hold of Jack’s arm as Danny’s song engulfed me. The jingle-jangle of that bell rang out as the door opened again and then slammed shut. We all rushed toward the front.
The store was empty except for an old boom box sitting on the floor playing music on a cassette tape. Jack dashed out the front door to the sidewalk and searched both ways before returning. Mitchum silenced the boom box and ejected the tape.
"No one in sight. There's a surveillance camera across the street. If we’re lucky that camera caught an image of our culprit," Jack announced as he rejoined us.
"I'll get the shop owner to let us have a look. In the meantime, we need to have a talk with your brother, Carolyn. What's your mother's address?"
9 More Chambers
My ears were still ringing when Meredith and I met for lunch. That love song, played for me with such tenderness in the past, had blared savagely this morning. I fought distraction from the moment I greeted Meredith and the entire time we sat at her favorite pizza place. What were they learning from the interview underway with Mark Chambers?
One of Detective Mitchum's officers had spotted Carolyn’s brother soon after he issued an order to be on the lookout for him. Leaving a grocery shop in a pickup truck, he had returned to his mother's house, where Carolyn had said they would find him. Both detectives had picked him up and taken him into custody for questioning. I would have preferred to be at the police station, but a promise is a promise, so I went to lunch with Meredith instead.
Meredith was somber but remarkably lucid as she described her recent brush with death. As in my case, her attacker had struck quickly, landing a blow that left her oblivious to much of what followed. Also, like me, Meredith barely remembered the rescue scene on the beach. She already had trouble separating out what she recalled from memory of the events as they happened and what she had learned later from talking with others. Now and then I saw a flush of emotion overcome her, and tears welled up in her eyes at one point.
“Take your time,” I said. “Say as little or as much as you want. I’m not far away, and you can call or visit anytime.” I handed her a tissue. She took it, regrouped and continued to talk—going back over this or that detail, finally ending with an update about Kat.
Mostly, I listened as Meredith spoke. I put in a pitch for seeing a professional when she mentioned she was sleeping better but still had disturbing dreams. She wore a shirt with a gorgeous silk scarf tucked into the collar, so I could tell she was sensitive about the scarring, even though the wound she showed me had nearly healed.
Oh, to be that young, again, I thought. My recuperative abilities were so much better at Meredith’s age, physically speaking, that is.
That was also the case for her friend Kat. Meredith’s mood brightened when she shared the good news with me about her friend’s improved condition. They were both thankful that the man who had attacked them was no longer a threat to them or anyone else. Meredith and Kat's nightmares were over. I hoped mine was about to end, too.
When we finished our lunch, I dreaded the idea of going back t
o Carolyn’s shop. As I said, though, a promise is a promise. As we walked the short distance to Chamber Made, I listened to Meredith’s chatter. Meredith and her mom had decided to travel to Copper Moon Beach, overjoyed that Kat would be well enough to join them. Meredith’s enthusiasm was contagious.
It was a perfect day in San Albinus, like so many I’d experienced growing up there. Much had changed in town as well as in Corsario Cove. The whole place felt new, even here in the “Old Town” section of shops and restaurants. Everything sparkled in the California sunshine, and the breeze rustled in the trees that lined the streets. By the time we reached Chamber Made, I was almost giddy with relief that Meredith was doing well and that the police had my likely tormentor, Mark Chambers, in custody.
How he knew about that song and why he wanted to harass me with it, was another matter. It could be another coincidence that Mark Chambers had the same first name as the boy who turned up dead on the beach years ago. I didn’t think so. That was one too many coincidences for me. There had to be a connection between the Chambers family and my past. I had a million questions but decided to let the detectives ask them.
Maybe Mark Chambers knew something about what happened to Danny. If so, it was most likely to be more about how he had died. The cassette tape in that boom box had my name on it. Danny wouldn’t have given it up willingly while he was alive.
As I walked into Carolyn’s shop for the second time today, she feigned happiness at seeing me again. I played along. I must admit, I eyed her with suspicion. Even if her brother had written the note on her business card, had she slipped it into my napkin at dinner?
Her surprise at the sight of that card and our questions about it had seemed genuine enough. Carolyn didn’t seem particularly wary of me and showed no sign of concern given that the police were interrogating her brother about the incidents. Surely no co-conspirator would have been so blithely focused on business as usual. Of course, I might have been inclined to close the shop if one of my brothers had been rounded up by the local police. Maybe she didn’t like her brother any better than she liked me.
For the next hour, I let Carolyn go through her spiel about all the gunk and goop, as Jack had referred to it. Carolyn was in her element. I would have been bored by the whole process except that Meredith was enchanted. Her delight sucked me into my Mom-for-a-day-role, and I happily offered opinions as Meredith asked for help in making her selections. When we finally left, I felt even more confident that Meredith was on the mend.
I was doing better, too, except for a bit of a shock at how much all that gunk and goop cost. When we parted ways, Meredith gave me a big hug and a thank you before she slipped into her car and headed home. I made her promise to call me to tell me about her trip to Copper Moon Beach and to arrange a visit to the OC before she returned to school fall quarter.
I was still wrapped in the warmth of that goodbye when I got to the corner, a short distance from the San Albinus police station. I could see it from where I was and picked up my pace, eager to see Jack. My eagerness wasn’t merely because I hoped he and Detective Mitchum had news for me from that interview with Mark Chambers. I missed Jack. Even though it had only been a few hours since I’d seen him, I longed to hear his voice, see his smile, and feel his embrace. Whatever he had learned from interrogating my suspected stalker would be conveyed with the reassurance I’d come to count on from him.
“Georgie Shaw,” a voice said, so close it startled me. I turned around and found myself face-to-face with a woman I recognized as Carolyn Chambers’ mother.
“Mrs. Chambers, hello. Are you on your way to see your son?” What was her first name? I wondered. I was sure someone had mentioned it. The woman staring back at me bore little resemblance to the one we had seen paying the tab for dinner at the Dulces Compana. Her hair was in disarray. Her face and clothes were dirty, and tears had left tracks in the dirt on her face.
“No, and neither are you. You’re coming with me. I won’t let you hurt my boy like you did his dad.” She pointed a mud-encrusted gun at me. The gun wavered as her hand shook.
Not again, I thought. The déjà vu I was experiencing now had nothing to do with that night on the beach long ago, but with more recent trouble at Marvelous Marley World. Her bottom lip quivered and tears began to slide down her face.
“Where are we going?” I asked that question as gently as I could. I wanted to calm her down, but I also felt sorry for the distraught woman with her finger on the trigger of a gun.
“Where you can join Danny Ferrell, that’s where. That should have happened years ago. Tommy told me what you’d done—coming on to him and playing hard to get the whole time you were in high school together. Then you came back here to San Albinus, acting like you were better than everybody else with that college boy. Tommy was heartbroken! On top of all that, Danny Ferrell killed his only brother. Your boyfriend beat him over the head with his guitar and murdered him. Tommy had to stop him, or he would have killed you, too. You and that boy ruined Tommy’s life. I won't let you do that to his son.”
I was scared and confused. I tried to keep my wits about me and make sense of what this angry woman was saying. Tommy Harwell had lived through that night, and Mark Chambers was his son. Could that be true?
Had Danny killed Mark in front of me that night as Tommy claimed? Could my memory have pushed that horror away—rejecting the idea that my Danny was a killer by blotting it out? I flashed on that image of Danny’s guitar arcing through space. That awful sound. Then I went blank. I could not speak.
“Go ahead. Stand there and say nothing.” She waved that gun at me as she spoke, furious now. “Like you did that night. Tommy told me you didn’t even thank him. Instead, you blamed him! Tommy had to run for it.”
The absurdity of what she said added to the turmoil already in my mind. Why would she ever have believed a story like that from Tommy Harwell or anyone else? Who would turn on the man who had saved her from a violent attacker? I refrained from pointing out the wildly illogical reasoning in that story and tried, instead, to reach out to the woman behind all that sorrow and rage.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Chambers—Ronda—it’s Ronda, isn’t it?” She stared at me answering with the faintest of nods. She lowered that gun a little as I went on.
“Ronda, I honestly don’t recall what went on that night. Someone came up behind me, grabbed me, and I hit my head. That blow knocked me out. That’s all I remember until I woke up in a hospital. The police told me later that they found Tommy’s truck up on the road leading down into the Cove, but I never saw him or Mark that night.”
“Liar! You’re a liar!” She raised that gun again and pointed it straight at me.
“No, she’s not, Mama!” With that gun in her hand, she spun around. Mark Chambers was running toward her as fast as he could from across the street less than a block away. The two detectives were behind him and made no attempt to stop him. When Mark reached the same side of the street we were on, he saw that gun. He slowed down but didn’t stop.
“Put that thing down before someone gets hurt. I’m going to tell you everything.” Ronda Chambers lowered her arm and then let that gun fall to the ground. When her son reached her, she fell into his arms, sobbing.
“This is all my fault. I should have told you sooner. I heard Dad confess to a priest what happened that night. Not that it stopped me from hating you, Ms. Shaw. I hated you for so many years for ruining my Dad's life and mine. When he told Mama and me that story about saving you and said you turned on him, it gave me a reason to hate somebody more than I hated him.” He paused and looked down at his mother who was clinging to him.
“Daddy was mean to you. To me, too. I wanted there to be a reason. Don’t you see? Georgie Shaw was it.” His mother stared up at him, nodding as though she understood. I didn’t.
“Carolyn told us you were coming back to Corsario Cove. Mama and her friends started talking about how rich and successful you are. Later, Mama was crying about how unfair it was that
your life turned out so great, and Dad suffered so much. I started to hate you all over again, even though I knew the truth. I wanted somebody to pay a little for all the trouble we went through.” He looked down at his mother again.
“I wasn’t going to shoot her or anything like that. I wanted to scare her—to make her as scared as Dad said he felt that night he left Corsario Cove. I don’t doubt he was scared. Daddy was a liar. All the way up until he was about to die. Even if I hadn't heard Daddy confess the truth, the police showed me the report from that night. Georgie Shaw was hurt bad. There’s no way she could have said or done what Daddy told us she did.”
It was a little unreal for me to hear the big, burly man refer to Tommy Harwell as Daddy as he poured out his story to his Mama. In that instant, he seemed much younger than his chronological age. The detectives had joined us, and we all stood huddled on the street corner as Mark Chambers continued to disclose what he learned as Tommy Harwell unburdened himself to that priest.
“Daddy killed Danny Ferrell alright, but not the way he told you. The night Daddy died, I heard everything he told Father Archer. He and his brother hated Georgie Shaw. They decided to grab her and take her off with them in the pickup truck. Daddy said it was his idea to kidnap her and scare her. When Uncle Mark tackled her from behind, he choked her. She tried to fight, but she fell backward and smashed her head on a rock. Dad wanted to get out of there, right then, but Mark said it didn’t matter to him whether she was awake or not." He glanced at me for a moment before going on.
"Dad was holding onto Danny, but when Uncle Mark started ripping Ms. Shaw’s clothes, Danny broke free, grabbed his guitar, and hit Mark over the head with it. Mark was bleeding. When he tried to get up, Danny hit him again. Dad had that old gun with him and pulled it on Danny to get him to stop. Then he threatened to shoot Georgie Shaw if Danny didn’t help him haul his brother up to the truck so they could get away. Danny said okay, but when they went to lift him, they thought Mark was dead. Daddy got so mad, he pointed that gun at Danny and pulled the trigger. It didn’t fire, so Danny took off running toward Boardertown. Dad went after him and kept trying to shoot that gun. When he caught up with Danny, he wrestled him over to the water’s edge, held him down and beat him on the head with the gun over and over again. Danny stopped moving. Dad told the priest he sat there on the sand for a minute, trying to figure out what to do." Mark was crying, now. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve before going on. He looked at me again.
Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Page 16
