by Bobbi Holmes
“Then just wait for him. Don’t go today.”
“No. I don’t want to wait. I need to know if Cheryl’s body is down there. And if it isn’t, maybe our trip to the beach will help trip her memory.”
“Okay Dani, but please, please be careful.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The closest parking spot Danielle could find was south of Adam’s beach bungalow. Since Lily couldn’t recall where the beach huts were exactly, they decided it would be best if they started at the bungalow and worked north.
It was a sunny morning with temperatures in the low eighties. There seemed to be far more people along this stretch of beach compared to Danielle’s end of town, yet it scarcely compared to the crowds that gathered at Southern California beaches.
“Odd, I don’t feel any sand between my toes,” Cheryl said as she looked down at her bare feet.
“I just realized, you aren’t wearing shoes. You didn’t have any shoes on when you returned to Marlow House.”
Cheryl looked down at her feet again and wiggled her toes. “Hmm, you’re right.”
“Tell me, do you remember taking your shoes off?”
“Well,” Cheryl thought a moment. “I took them off at Adam’s. I don’t remember putting them back on. I certainly wouldn’t have put them on when I walked on the beach.”
“When the police found Adam the next day at the bungalow, nothing of yours was at the house—not your purse or shoes.”
“Oh, I took them with me,” Cheryl said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I remember now,” Cheryl said excitedly. “I wasn’t about to stay at Adam’s with him passed out. I didn’t know how to get back to Marlow House exactly, but I figured if I kept walking north along the ocean I would eventually get to the beach in front of Ian’s house.”
“I sort of figured that might be the case. I mean, about you finding your way back to Marlow House by going north on the beach.”
“People are starting to stare,” Cheryl chuckled. “After all you are talking to yourself.”
Danielle glanced around. It was true; a few people they had passed were still staring in her direction. For the next few minutes Danielle and Cheryl walked in silence. Danielle carried her purse in one hand and her shoes in the other.
“There it is!” Cheryl said pointing to a beach house; its back porch faced the ocean.
“What?” Danielle asked.
“That’s the house Adam brought me to. I remember now walking along this stretch of the beach. Up here.” Cheryl pointed ahead.
“Can you remember anything else, like who it was you ran into that night?”
“No…” Cheryl shook her head. “But it was someone familiar…not someone I knew well but someone I met here, I’m certain of that. Which means you probably know that person too.”
They continued to walk farther north and the crowds diminished, until at last Danielle could comfortably talk to Cheryl without fear someone would think she was talking to herself.
“Look, it’s getting a little rocky up ahead!” Danielle said. “Does any of this look familiar?”
“No, not really. But it was nighttime.”
“You recognized the bungalow.”
“That’s only because Adam took me there the first day we met. We sat on the back porch for about an hour and talked. I thought he was really nice. Too bad he had to drink so much.”
They walked a little ways more, until finally they went around a bend and there they were: six beach shacks as Lily had described, each painted with a different red number, one through six.
“There they are!” Danielle exclaimed.
Some distance from the huts, over a hill that faced the ocean, Danielle spied a row of rooftops, their houses concealed by the hill. A path leading from the houses to the huts wound around the grassy hill and midway there was a wooden bench, faded and bleached from constant exposure to the elements.
“It looks like they store their beach stuff here, you know like chairs and surfboards,” Danielle said. When her cousin didn’t respond she glanced back and noticed Cheryl had stopped walking and just stood quietly, staring at the small buildings.
“What is it? Aren’t you coming?” Danielle asked.
“I can’t.” Cheryl stood frozen to the spot.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“It feels funny. I’m afraid,” Cheryl whispered, her voice trembling.
“If you think about it, what can really happen to you? I mean…well you’re already dead.”
“You aren’t.”
“I’ll be okay. Doesn’t look like anyone is around and I seriously doubt whoever you were here with is lurking about.”
“Okay, but I’m staying here.”
“Fine. I’ll see if I can have a look inside, and then we can get the heck out of here. Okay?”
Cheryl nodded her head in agreement.
The sound of ocean breakers crashing along the beach filled Danielle’s head. There was no other human in sight, although she assumed the houses in the distance were probably occupied for the summer and it was possible someone could show up on the beach at any minute. She needed to move quickly, especially if she didn’t want to be seen. If Cheryl’s body was in the shed, it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to be seen poking around the area.
Danielle felt less brave than she acted. A sense of dread washed over her as she neared the shacks.
“Okay, let’s hurry this up,” Danielle mumbled to herself, as she approached rustic Hut Three. She set her purse and shoes on the sand and looked around the hut, but there didn’t seem to be any windows, just a door. The ill filling boards provided gaps and she wondered if one might prove useful as a peep hole.
When she put her eye to one, it was too dark inside to see anything. Then it hit her, the indescribable scent of decaying flesh. Danielle quickly glanced behind her to Cheryl, who stood a good distance away, her back now to her. Cheryl was no longer watching Danielle, but gazed out to the ocean, as if she could not bear looking at the beach shacks.
Danielle felt her own heart beating wildly and for a brief moment she entertained the idea of just walking away—no, running—back to Cheryl and her car to figure out some other way to get the police to the hut. Yet, she couldn’t get herself to turn back now.
Instead of a keyed doorknob, a latch and padlock held the door securely shut. On closer inspection Danielle discovered someone had already cut through the padlock, yet left it hanging on the latch, giving the impression the building was locked.
Reluctant to grasp the hut’s latch for fear of leaving fingerprints, she remembered what Lily had said. Now you’re just being paranoid. Slipping her hand under her blouse to use the fabric to shield her fingerprints, she gingerly opened the latch, leaving the broken padlock hanging. She opened the hut’s door wide, letting in the sunshine.
Lifting the collar of her shirt upward, she used its fabric to cover her nostrils. The stench was sickening. Nervously she peeked into the hut, but it was too dark to see inside when standing in the bright sunlight. Stepping into the dark space she looked around and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Shafts of sunlight cut through the small space, finding their way in through the gaps between the wall boards. Looking around, she noticed a work bench with several surfboards propped against it. There were old beach chairs, several beach umbrellas and in the corner by the door, a stack of children’s beach toys—buckets, shovels and a deflated beach ball.
Her eyes, adjusting to the lighting, darted across the dimly lit space as she took another step inside. Just as she did she glanced down and saw it—a pair of women’s bare feet, covered in dry sand, sticking out from under a pile of partially inflated rafts.
Danielle let out a little cry and fell to her knees, no longer thinking rationally as she shoved the rafts aside and uncovered the bloated body of her cousin, who lay lifeless on the wood floor staring blankly up to the ceiling.
“Oh Cheryl,” Danielle murmured sadly.
<
br /> Cheryl’s once golden hair was now matted in dry blood, from what appeared to be a severe head wound. While Danielle was no forensic expert, she guessed that someone had bashed Cheryl over her head with something hard.
Quickly glancing around the shed, she didn’t see a likely weapon; at least, nothing with blood stains. Cheryl wasn’t wearing the Missing Thorndike, which didn’t surprise Danielle. Looking around, she spied Cheryl’s purse and shoes not far from the body.
While she didn’t expect to find the necklace stuffed in Cheryl’s purse, she felt compelled to look, just in case. The necklace wasn’t there.
“God I hate leaving you here like this,” Danielle whispered over her cousin’s broken and lifeless body.
Cheryl’s frantic screams interrupted the somber moment. “Dani! Dani! Hurry!”
With a quick jerk Danielle turned toward the open door but the sun was blocked by the silhouette of what appeared to be a man standing in the doorway.
“What the hell?” the man said, stepping into the hut.
Danielle looked up. She could now see his face. It was Bill Smith.
“What are you doing here?” Danielle blurted out.
“I am so sorry Dani! I didn’t see him coming until it was too late. Hurry up run!” Frantic, Cheryl now stood at the doorway, anxiously hopping about from foot to foot.
“Is this the man, Cheryl?” Danielle asked in a steady voice as she kept her eyes on Bill and slowly stood up, preparing herself for physical combat if necessary.
“Who are you talking to?” Just as he asked the question he looked down and his gaze fell on the dead body.
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look familiar. But I’m not sure,” Cheryl said in an uncertain voice.
Danielle’s eyes darted around for a weapon. She spied a piece of pipe near the children’s beach toys. Bill noticed her looking at the pipe. Together they lunged for it, each taking hold of an opposite end. Cheryl let out a scream and began yelling, yet her screams only distracted Danielle.
Bill jerked Danielle outside, away from the decaying body and into the sunlight. The two fell onto the sand yet Danielle was no match for his strength. She found herself face down in the sand, her arms jerked back forcibly, held in place by Bill’s weight as he sat on her back. Spitting sand from her mouth she raised her head slightly, and looked up in time to see Bill raising the pipe over her head, as if he were preparing to bash it in.
Cheryl let out another scream and the pipe went sailing into the distance. Surprised that she was still alive, Danielle could feel Bill shift his body.
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, spitting out more sand.
“Call the police. Now just settle down.” Bill said.
“Call the police? You mean you aren’t going to kill me?” Danielle asked.
“Kill you? Why in the hell would I kill you? You’re the one with the dead body lady, not me.”
“Oh thank god,” Danielle said wearily, letting her head rest on the sand she closed her eyes and relaxed her body.
Chapter Thirty
Danielle sat on the pathway bench next to Bill while Cheryl paced anxiously back and forth.
“Thanks for letting me up,” Danielle said, shaking more sand out of her braid.
“Hey, I figured once I called the cops and told them what I found, you’d be more likely to take off than try to break my head open with that piece of pipe. You’re their problem now, not mine.” Bill pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.
“I wasn’t going to hit you over the head with the pipe,” Danielle insisted.
“It sure looked that way.” Bill removed a cigarette from the pack and lit up.
“I just wanted to protect myself.”
“I guess I understand. The body in there, that’s your cousin, the missing girl right?” Bill took a drag off the cigarette.
“Yes. Why did you come down here?” Danielle asked.
“Got a complaint from one of the renters. Said there was a nasty smell coming out of Hut Three. Figured it was a dead rodent or maybe a cat.”
Cheryl stopped pacing and looked from Bill to Danielle. “Is he talking about me? Was I that smell?”
“Who owns these huts?” Danielle asked. She looked up to Cheryl and gave her an apologetic nod. Cheryl frowned and resumed her pacing.
“Frederickport Property Rentals.”
“The hut’s padlock was cut.”
“Yeah, been that way all summer. I kept meaning to bring down a new one. First week of summer vacation one of the renters cut it off in a panic. His kids were screwing around. The son locked his daughter in the hut and then ended up dropping the key in the sand, couldn’t find it. She was screaming her head off so the dad figured it would be faster to cut off the lock instead of getting another key from us.”
“So anyone could have gone in there,” Danielle murmured.
“I have a question for you. How did you happen to be here? Judging by the condition of that body, it’s obvious she’s been in there a while.”
“I was frustrated and decided to do my own detective work and retrace my cousin’s steps. I ended up here.”
“Retrace her steps? I don’t remember anyone seeing her on the beach.”
“I should have said possible steps. If Cheryl left Adam’s as he says, I’d expect her to come back to Marlow House. After all, her car was there. Since she was new to town the easiest way to find her way back in the dark would be by walking along the beach. At least, that’s what I’d do.”
“What made you go into the hut?” Bill asked.
“I don’t know. The huts were between Adam’s bungalow and my place. Thought I’d look around and see if I could find any clues. Any sign Cheryl had been in the area. When I noticed the lock was broken, I decided to look inside.”
“You are a good liar,” Cheryl laughed. “I have to say I am surprised! If I didn’t know better I’d actually believe your story.”
“I better call Lily,” Danielle said reaching into her purse for her cellphone. “I don’t want her to worry about me.” She dialed Lily’s cellphone number.
“Dani, are you okay?” Lily answered in a rush.
“Lily, I decided to retrace Cheryl’s steps—if she had tried to walk from the bungalow back to Marlow House by the beach.”
“Is someone there?” Lily asked.
“I came across some beach shacks. One was unlocked. Lily, I found Cheryl inside. It looks like she’s been murdered.”
“Who is with you?” Lily asked anxiously.
“Bill Smith, the one who works for Frederickport Property Rentals—who owns the huts—happened to come by. He’s called the police. They’re on their way down.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Did the body have the necklace?” Lily asked.
“No, but I didn’t expect it would be here. I have to assume that’s why someone killed her.” She heard voices and footsteps coming from the pathway. Turning around Danielle and Bill watched as close to a dozen or more police officers and responders made their way toward them. Among the officers were Joe and Brian.
“I have to go now Lily, the police are here.”
“Okay Dani. Be careful.” Lily hung up.
“You found her?” Joe asked when he reached the bench.
“Yes,” Danielle said as she started to stand up.
“Please stay there Ms. Boatman,” Brian said curtly. “We’ll get with you in a moment. Bill, come with us.”
Almost three hours later Danielle sat alone in an interrogation room at the Frederickport Police Station eating a ham sandwich Joe had procured for her. She was ravenous and wanted to go home. Her head ached from all the questions. She hadn’t seen Cheryl’s spirit since they left the beach. Danielle wondered if Cheryl had returned to Marlow House, stayed with her body, or perhaps she had moved on to the next plane now that her body had been found.
The door opened and in walked Brian.
&n
bsp; “I see you got something to eat,” Brian said as he tossed his notepad on the table and took a seat across from Danielle.
“I would rather have gone home to get something to eat. When can I leave?”
“Just a few more questions.” Brian picked up the notepad and opened it. “You don’t seem very upset at finding your cousin’s body.”
“Everyone deals with these things differently.” Danielle knew the lack of tears was going to be a problem. “But I cared enough about her to try and find her.”
“Her or the necklace?”
“I really don’t care about the necklace, I never did.” Danielle was beginning to think the Missing Thorndike should be renamed the Cursed Thorndike.
“Maybe not the necklace, but the million or so bucks you’ll get when you sell it.”
“That will be kind of hard to do now.”
“There is always the insurance money.” Brian smiled.
“None of that matters. The only thing that matters right now is finding whoever killed my cousin.”
“I can see how much it matters to you. Considering the way those tears are flowing.”
“Okay, I will admit Cheryl and I were not close. We’ve never been. And frankly, sometimes she irritated the heck out of me. But I never wanted anything bad to happen to her.”
“I understand she was contesting your aunt’s estate. With her out of the picture, that takes care of that problem, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t think she had a claim in the first place. Do you seriously think I had something to do with my cousin’s death? Do I need to hire an attorney?”
“I don’t know, do you? You had a motive,” Brian reminded. “With her out of the picture you don’t have to share your inheritance.”
“I think the killer’s motive is fairly obvious—the Missing Thorndike. A dozen or more people saw her leave Marlow House with the necklace. Joe was there, he knows I was still at Marlow House when she took off.”
“So what do you think she intended to do with the necklace? Why steal it with so many witnesses, especially if she expected to claim half ownership to it?”
“I’ve given that a lot of consideration…” It wasn’t a lie, she had thought about it a great deal. But the conclusion she drew was not hers, it was Cheryl’s version of the story. “My cousin wasn’t a jewel thief. She was irresponsible and flighty but I don’t think she intended to sell or keep the necklace. She was borrowing it for the night as a lark.”
