Death Rides the Surf

by Nora charles

  “Come on, Ballou, we’re having company. Katharine’s going to stay with us.” The Westie loved her granddaughter. Kate could picture his excitement when the girl arrived. “Let’s go make up the guest-room bed.”

  Her white-on-white condo, decorated by Edmund, a doctor who moonlighted as an interior designer and her son Peter’s partner, was as neat as if an anal-retentive owned it. Kate sighed; maybe one did. Bottom line: there were worse faults than always being prepared for a house guest. She would have to make a quick trip to Publix in the morning. Katharine liked bacon and eggs for breakfast.

  And she’d call her son and daughter-in-law in the morning, too. From what Marlene had said, Katharine was in her guest room, either sound asleep or feigning it, and Kevin and Jennifer weren’t yet aware that their daughter had left New York. No sense getting everyone upset at bedtime.

  A half hour later, Kate sat in an ecru terry-cloth chaise on the balcony, sipping decaffeinated Lipton tea, Ballou at her side. A diamond tiara of stars sparkled atop a gold harvest moon in an inky sky, like priceless jewels displayed against a black velvet drape.

  Chilled, she zipped up her blue cotton sweater, then reached for the teacup. How often had she shivered in South Florida? She could only recall one other time, that first lonely New Year’s Eve after Charlie had died, when the sounds of revelers drifting up from the rec room and the bright moon and twinkling stars had left her cold and depressed.

  Why had Katharine gone to Marlene? Kate felt hurt and, yes, damn it, jealous. The phone rang. Jumping up, she tripped over an indigent Ballou, dropping her favorite teacup, spilling its contents, covering her bare foot with tepid tea. But the Belleek cup didn’t break. “Thank God for small favors,” Kate shouted, her voice so cranky, Ballou stopped yelping.

  “Hello,” she grumbled into the phone, standing on one foot while trying to dry the other with a paper napkin, contorting her body into what felt like an advanced yoga position.

  “And a pleasant good evening to you, too, Kate.” Nick Carbone, the oldest homicide detective in the Palmetto Beach Police Department, maybe the oldest in America, mocked her tone.

  “It’s after ten, Nick. Evening has turned into night.” Gracious, wasn’t she?

  “And at your age, I guess you need your beauty sleep.”

  Ouch. Though overweight and often overbearing, Carbone was about a decade younger than Kate; tonight that statistic bothered her more than usual.

  “Though I think you look great.” He seemed sincere. Could that be possible? “Er, can you have lunch with me tomorrow? I thought we’d try the Sea Watch. You like it there, right?”

  How did Nick know that? She couldn’t recall ever having mentioned it. And how could she say yes? Go out to lunch on Katharine’s first day with her? If Kate accepted, it would be their third date, if what they were doing could be called dating. What the hell were they doing? A short, slim widow with enough mileage to accurately be described as a little old lady, still missing her dead husband, and a fat know-it-all detective with two ex-wives, fighting against retirement like Don Quixote tilting at windmills.

  “Kate?” Nick’s voice, Brooklyn brusque at best, sounded strained to the breaking point.

  A surge of mixed messages flashed through Kate’s mind, then tumbled off her tongue. “My granddaughter Katharine’s here. At Marlene’s, but she’ll be with me tomorrow. I hate to leave her, but I would like to have lunch with you.” Would she? She supposed so.

  “Bring Katharine along, if she doesn’t have other plans.” Nick’s voice had softened and was far less tense. “She’s the redhead, right?”

  “Yes, she looks just like her grandfather.” Great, Kate, remind your suitor that you’re still in love with your dead husband. Well, why not? She was, wasn’t she?

  “Okay. Let’s see how it shakes out.” The edge had returned. “Give me a call tomorrow morning. The early snowbirds have arrived. We’ll need a reservation if we’re going to the Sea Watch.” Nick hesitated, then added, “And why don’t you invite Marlene, too?”

  A generous offer. Four for lunch at the Sea Watch didn’t come cheap. And dragging her granddaughter and sister-in-law along made it definitely not a date.

  “Thanks, Nick. That’s very kind.” She smiled as she heard the warmth in her own voice. “I’ll call you either way.”

  She felt even better when Nick’s good-bye returned the warmth.

  The breeze coming from the open balcony door fluttered the sheer curtains. Kate put down the phone and stepped outside, straightening the cushion on the chaise and gathering up the teacup and saucer.

  “Don’t be stupid, man.” A voice from the beach, rising loud and clear in the still of the night. A voice with a Cuban accent.

  Kate crossed to the stone railing and stared out across Ocean Vista’s swimming pool to the Atlantic. Rough tonight. She could hear waves crashing against the shore. The full moon served as a giant flashlight. Its glow, together with the lamps around the pool, softly illuminated the beach. She could make out two surfers and their surfboards at the water’s edge.

  The handsome Cuban and the surly, good-looking blond belonged to a group who called themselves the Four Boardsmen of the Apocalypse. They’d appeared about a month ago, chasing waves and driving Ocean Vista’s owners crazy; however, since the beach belonged to the town of Palmetto Beach, the young men had as much right to ride the surf as the seniors had to swim or, in most cases, wade.

  It must be close to midnight. Why would they be surfing at this hour?

  A redhead ran along the shore, joined the boys, and wrapped her arms around the blond. Kate started. The moon shone on her granddaughter’s face as Katharine locked lips with the surly surfer.

  Four

  One day earlier

  Sunday, October 29

  “I’m telling you, Marlene, Katharine was out on the beach at midnight.” Kate pressed her Lipton tea bag against the china cup with such force it broke, scattering tiny leaves that floated on top of her tea like unwanted sprinkles on an ice-cream cone. “I watched her from my balcony, cuddling up to that blond surfer, you know, the cute one, not the part-time lifeguard. Why does he surf in the middle of the night?”

  She stood, crossed to the sink, dumped the tea, rinsed the cup, and started the brewing process from scratch. She’d just returned from church and felt guilty about her anger and resentment, though not enough for an attitude adjustment.

  “Maybe the waves are better.” Marlene stirred her coffee, her voice several decibels lower than usual. Katharine was still sleeping.

  The sun streamed through the window in Marlene’s kitchen, brightening the room but not Kate’s mood.

  After the second of last summer’s two back-to-back hurricanes, Marlene’s flooded condo had been completely renovated. But it hadn’t taken Marlene, who’d dramatically downsized prior to the hurricanes, selling off her “treasures” from the fifties at the Palmetto Beach Flea Market, long to fill her new red, white, and blue kitchen with “more contemporary treasures.” Kate had decided the eclectic look, while way too colorful for her taste, was not unattractive.

  “Didn’t you hear her go out?” Kate added a splash of milk, then sat down again at the washed pine table and reached for a bagel. She sounded critical, but she didn’t care.

  “I was watching Leave Her to Heaven on my new DVD. God, that Gene Tierney was a bitch.”

  “Focus, Marlene.” Kate spread strawberry jam on one half of her bagel. She had no appetite, but these were freshly baked Einstein bagels, her favorite. Mary Frances Costello, a former nun and current Broward County tango champion, had dropped them off on her way up to her condo after the seven-thirty mass.

  “I am focusing.” She sounded defensive. “I didn’t hear her. So sue me.” Marlene wore a scarlet kimono that flattered her large frame, but her face, minus makeup, looked drawn and her platinum twist, usually unflappable, floundered, and several stray strands flopped about. Marlene frowned, pushing a bobby pin back into place.


  “Katharine kissed him. So, if your theory is correct, that surly surfer must be the man she came here to find.” Kate took a small bite, thinking an Einstein’s bagel was almost as good as a New York bagel.

  “She kissed him, huh?” Marlene smirked.

  “You needn’t look so pleased.”

  “Listen, Kate, your granddaughter’s eighteen. Do you think he’s the first guy she ever kissed?”

  That was exactly what Kate thought, but she decided not to defend Katharine right now. She had too many questions and she needed Marlene’s help. “If Katharine did come here because of that surfer, how do they know each other? Where could they have met?”

  “Isn’t that Fort Lauderdale’s claim to fame? Where the Boys Are.” Marlene sang, smiling. A smug smile, Kate thought. “Katharine could have met him right here.”

  Kate shook her head. “She just arrived last night.”

  “Well, that’s what she said.” Marlene took another sip of coffee. “But maybe she’s been down here a few days. Maybe she met surfer boy on the strip.”

  “Impossible. Jennifer calls Katharine every day. She’d know if her daughter had left New York.”

  “Would she?” Marlene taunted, seeming to enjoy playing devil’s advocate. Did Marlene realize how much she was annoying Kate? Sometimes they acted as if they were still six years old, trying to out-hopscotch each other. “Katharine has a cell phone. She could have been answering from God-only-knows where when her mother called.”

  Score one for Marlene.

  “Or try this.” Marlene, seemingly full of possibilities, rolled right on. “It’s fall break, maybe Jennifer and Kevin think Katharine’s off visiting a friend.”

  Stumped and bothered by Marlene’s scenarios, Kate said, “Katharine doesn’t lie.” Even before Marlene arched her right eyebrow, Kate realized that her granddaughter’s lie of omission would now force Kate and Marlene to lie to Jennifer and Kevin.

  Marlene laughed. “She’s lying like crazy, Kate. And we need to find out the truth. Those surfers are sleaze. We can’t have her befriending or bedding any of them. Though I have to admit the Cuban’s mighty cute.”

  “How did Katharine get out of the condo and back in after her rendezvous on the beach last night?” Kate turned on the burner under the teakettle. She needed—no, she craved—the caffeine. “Miss Mitford locks up tighter than Fort Knox. Does our sentinel ever sleep?”

  “She goes home at nine, sometimes ten, and is back at eight the next morning. I keep telling the board we’re going to get in trouble over those long hours.” Marlene had served as president of Ocean Vista’s board of directors. Like most Broward County condo presidents, she’d taken her job very seriously.

  “So Mitford couldn’t have seen her or buzzed her back in.”

  “My key ring was on the table in the foyer.” Marlene looked at the clutter and laughed. “Though how Katharine could have spotted it under all the mess remains a mystery. The girl must have her grandmother’s genes.”

  Kate laughed, too. It felt good. “Well, her grandfather was a homicide detective.”

  “No. I think she’s a natural-born snoop like you.”

  “Is the key ring there now?”

  “Yes, but with all the unopened bills, junk mail, straw hats, sunscreen bottles, and six copies of People, I can’t tell if it’s where I put it.” Marlene eyed the junk piled on her kitchen table and shrugged.

  “Right.” Kate nodded, but didn’t react. She’d gotten past her sister-in-law’s constant state of clutter four or five decades ago.

  “Should we just be direct with Katharine? Tell her you saw her kissing Blondie on the beach? Maybe we could startle the truth out of her.”

  “Have you two been spying on me?” Katharine stood in the doorway, a scowl on her flushed freckled face and venom coating her question.

  Five

  After Katharine had locked herself in Marlene’s guest bathroom, running the hot water until it steamed out from under the door, Kate called Mary Frances, the Liz Smith of Ocean Vista, to get the scoop on the surfers.

  Three of the Four Boardsmen of the Apocalypse didn’t have day jobs. Jon Michael, Katharine’s crush, worked three nights a week as a bartender in a “gentleman’s club.” Good God, maybe at the Pink Platinum where Katharine hoped to get a job. Two of the boardsmen were Palmetto Beach born and bred. Jon Michael Tyler, the son of a single mother, lived with his grandmother, who ran a tanning salon, and Claude Jensen, another bronzed blond and a self-proclaimed cracker whose father was in jail. Claude had attended high school with Jon Michael. Though unemployed, Claude sometimes substituted for the lifeguard whose chair was only twenty-odd feet away from the gate leading to Ocean Vista’s pool.

  The third boardsman, Roberto Romero, a Cuban exile, was, in Mary Frances’s words, as handsome as Fernando Lamas had been when he swam with Esther Williams. How Roberto had landed in Palmetto Beach was a mystery. Where he got his money—he dressed in designer duds and surfed on a custom-made board—was a bigger mystery.

  The fourth, Sam Meyers, the least skilled of the surfers, a tall, geeky guy from New Jersey, worked nights as a computer programmer and kept his fellow boardsmen supplied with beer and hot dogs from the Neptune Boulevard Pier.

  “They all live to ride the waves. And they’re all between eighteen and twenty-two.” Mary Frances finished, breathless. For the dancing ex-nun, men were never too young or too old.

  Kate thanked Mary Frances, searching for the off button on her new cell phone.

  “What’s your interest in those boys, Kate? Thinking about signing up for surfing lessons?” She giggled.

  “You know, that’s a great idea.” Kate snapped the phone shut, rendering Mary Frances speechless.

  She marched down the hall to the bathroom and banged on the bathroom door. “If you don’t come out of there, young lady, I’m calling your mother and father. You’re wasting time and money. If you continue to behave like a child, I’ll treat you like one.”

  Marlene, on Kate’s heels, shouted, “Don’t force her.”

  Except for Marlene’s dramatic outburst and the water still running full blast, Kate’s threat was greeted by silence.

  “Okay, Katharine. I have my cell phone ready and I have your mother on speed dial. I’m counting to five. That’s Jennifer.” Kate wasn’t bluffing; she’d place the call. “One. Two. Three. Four.”

  The door opened. The steam heat almost bowled Kate over.

  Her granddaughter, red as a lobster and wrapped in a purple towel, glared at Kate.

  “Aunt Marlene said I can stay.” A defiant Katharine swung her head toward Marlene, who started.

  What was wrong with Marlene? Puzzled, Kate decided she couldn’t be distracted. “Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Katharine.”

  “Nana, I can’t talk to Mom and Dad.” Katharine sounded contrite, and something else. Frightened? Determined? “They’d never understand.”

  Sure she was being played, but wanting to find out what the devil was going on, Kate said, “Let’s have a cup of tea, Katharine. I’m sure we can work this out.”

  The muscles in her granddaughter’s jaw relaxed.

  Marlene made pancakes and Katharine, who’d lost weight, too much in her grandmother’s opinion, dug in like a stevedore. Kate took that as a sign that Katharine still believed her grandmother could somehow make everything okay.

  On her fourth cup of tea of the morning, Kate decided to call her daughter-in-law and sell Jennifer on the idea of Katharine spending her fall break in Palmetto Beach. A week ought to buy them enough time to sort it all out.

  Jennifer and Kevin weren’t aware that Katharine had left New York City, but her daughter-in-law agreed to Kate’s suggestion. If Kate’s plan worked out, maybe Katharine’s parents would never have to know she’d run away from home. Not to mention classes, college, and chastity.

  “Okay, I’ll move to your condo this morning, Nana,” Katharine said. “Just know I’m never going home. I’m
getting a job and an apartment and I’m staying in Florida forever.”

  Right. Kate had six days to find out what the hell was going on and to get her granddaughter back to college. “So darling, would you and Auntie Marlene like to have lunch with Nick and me?”

  Katharine grinned, her grandfather Charlie’s grin.

  God, Kate hoped her invitation hadn’t made it sound as if she and Nick Carbone were a couple.

  Six

  The Sea Watch Restaurant perched above the dunes on a wide expanse of sandy beach, a mile south of Ocean Vista. From their window table, the teal blue Atlantic seemed to stretch from here to eternity and soft, puffy clouds hovered over the whitecaps. Kate knew the food was as wonderful as the view. Snowbirds weren’t yet in full flight, but at noon, the restaurant had no empty tables. Those without reservations waited at the bar.

  Their waiter, a buff blond, asked, “What can I bring you guys?”

  Kate cringed. When had that annoying way of waiters addressing customers reached South Florida?

  Nick replied, “The three ladies will have piña coladas. And this guy will have a Scotch and soda.”

  Katharine smiled at Nick. Katharine damn well knew her parents would have ordered her a Diet Coke. Kate was surprised Carbone, a by-the-book detective, could break the law so cavalierly. But his gesture broke the ice as well. If Kate didn’t like Katharine dating a surfer, her granddaughter hated the possibility of her grandmother being interested in any man other than Grandpa Charlie. Nick’s treating Katharine like a grown-up had been a smart move. Not that Kate was all that interested in Nick.

  And why did Marlene look so smug? Kate felt her cheeks redden.

  The drinks arrived and they sipped in silence. Kate had prepped Marlene, providing her with an opening line that would distract and intrigue Katharine, who shared her grandmother’s avid interest in crime and punishment. However, Marlene now nodding at a dapper seventy-something gentleman at the next table had missed her cue. Kate kicked her sister-in-law’s foot, none too gently. “You wanted to ask Nick about…”