Sun Scream

by Barbara Silkstone

  “This is Puff.” I unzipped the top and scooped my kitty out.

  Sophia took the cat in her hands and pressed her nose to the white fur. “I love the smell. It is like a baby. No?”

  I turned to introduce Jaimie to my ‘Auntie Maria’. It takes a lot to impress Jaimie into silence but she stood there with her mouth hanging open, speechless. It was obvious despite the disguise she’d recognized Sophia.

  “This is our friend Jaimie Toast.”

  Jaimie curtsied as if being presented to royalty. “Is she? She is! Sophia Napoli.”

  Sophia put her index finger to her lips. “Yes, dearest. But you must tell no one for the paparazzi will come like your Florida love bugs. You understand?”

  Placing her arms across her chest, Jaimie said, “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Sorry to surprise you with our early appearance,” Sophia said. “I am being pursued to sign a film contract, the timing of which would deny me a holiday. If I lingered one more day in Miami the producer would be on my doorstep—so bing, bang, bong, we ran away from home!” She laughed a deep-throated laugh.

  “How long can you stay?” Jaimie found her voice. “I’m having a party on Saturday. Pretty please would you come?”

  “Grazie. But I believe my costume does not disguise me and I truly do not wish to be found. But perhaps Fabio and Raelyn will attend. Now if you will excuse, Olive and Lizzy wish to show us their shop before the customers arrive.” She handed Puff to me.

  “Jaimie would you sit behind the counter while we go in the back room?” I held Puff against my shoulder ready to guide Sophia and Raelyn to see our inventory.

  It was then I realized I couldn’t leave Jaimie unprotected, but our business with Sophia was none of Jaimie’s bees’ wax. Bound by my promise not to let Jaimie out of my sight and yet needing to prevent her snooping, I turned to Fabio.

  “Could I impose on you to keep Jaimie company?” I asked him.

  “Of course!” Fabio smiled a mischievous grin. “I’ve already seen what goes on in that mysterious back room.”

  “That’s right. This is your second visit to our shop. I hope Starfish Cove doesn’t offer the drama it did during your first visit.”

  The bell over the door tinkled. Grams tottered in lugging her brass candlestick. She wore a man-sized black T-shirt that ended below her knees, the short sleeves reaching her wrists. Her support hose were a dark taupe and ended in her black orthopedic oxfords. She’d stuck a second label on the REPORTER hatband of her fedora. The blue and white sticker read ARMED BODYGUARD.

  In a display designed to impress Jaimie, she gave the candlestick a twirl but lost her grip. The brass baton clunked to the floor, barely missing her shoes, while leaving a gouge in the wood.

  Lizzy rushed forward and lifted the candlestick. She put her arm around Grams.

  “This is my grandmother. Grams Dingler meet Olive’s Auntie Maria.”

  Grams narrowed her eyes taking in what was visible of Sophia under the floppy hat and giant sunglasses. She broke free of Lizzy’s grip, took a few bold steps towards the actress and looked up at her. “Auntie Maria my eye! This here is Sophia Napoli.”

  “See?” Sophia shrugged. “Unless and until I find a better disguise I shall remain in our condominium on the beach.”

  Lizzy led the way to the back room where our inventory was stored. I continued to carry Puff. She’d never been in the shop before and I wasn’t sure what she might do.

  “You have much to offer your customers.” Sophia said. “May I?” She unscrewed the lid of a jar of miracle cream and sniffed it. “Such a wonderful fragrance.” She passed the jar to Raelyn. “I would like to see where you prepare these wonders.”

  “Help!”

  “That’s Fabio!” Raelyn said.

  We rushed to the front to find the poor guy pinned on the floor under Grams. She looked up at us all nonagenarian innocence. “Just showing him one of my special moves.”

  Fabio wiggled out from under Grams. “I didn’t wish to hurt her by defending myself.”

  Lizzy helped Grams from the floor. “You’ve got to stop demonstrating your geriatric jujitsu. You’re going to hurt someone.”

  A car pulled into the parking lot. “Customers!” I said. “Everyone look normal.” It was asking a lot.

  “We should leave,” Sophia said. “We must settle in our suite. When we arrived late last night we were too weary to unpack.” She addressed herself to me. “I will call you tomorrow morning to arrange a tour of your factory.”

  My factory. My kitchen. I nodded. Cross that bridge tomorrow.

  Sophia, Fabio, and Raelyn slipped past the two lady customers as they entered the shop. The women were regulars who’d come in response to our mailing announcing our new sunscreen.

  The gals bought two-hundred dollars’ worth of sun protection. I wrapped the jars in tissue and placed a fistful of samples in their bags. Lizzy walked them to the door giving them a parting sales pitch. “Come back and tell us how much you love that sunscreen!”

  Puff mewed softly. She’d been confined too long. I placed a large wicker basket on the counter and stuffed it with pink tissue paper, then placed her in it. She delighted in tapping at the paper as if it contained hidden mice.

  Lizzy brought Puff a saucer of water. Her little pink tongue slurped a few laps and then went back to pouncing on the tissue paper. She purred with pleasure at being on display on the counter and happily received the attention of a few more customers.

  Just before ten Jaimie’s phone rang. “Chip! Poshookly! What happened to you?”

  She motioned for Lizzy and me to gather closer while she put the phone on speaker.

  Grams poked her nose into our little clutch.

  “Sorry darling,” Chip said. “I dropped my phone on the marble floor at the airport. I’ve only now been able to get a replacement.”

  Lizzy and I exchanged dubious looks.

  “It’s been a comedy of errors. The air conditioning in my hotel room went on the fritz. By the time they found me another room it was after midnight—there’s a sunglass designer convention in town—hardly any vacancies and lots of confusion. I only found out this morning that they’d booked me in the new room under Roast not Toast. Chuck Roast! Are you believing that?”

  Jaimie seemed to be buying his tale, especially after he told her he’d tried to call her from his room but her phone just rang and rang. “I must have shut my phone off. I’ve been staying with Olive. A lot has happened since I busted the garage door.”

  “I thought to call Kal,” Chip said. “But by then it was near three in the morning. I lay down for a minute and the next thing I knew the sun was up and I was late for my meeting. I grabbed this phone from a discount store.”

  While Jaimie began to fill Chip in on all her shadowy news, I motioned Lizzy to the back room.

  “It might not be a bad idea to let Grams act as Jaimie’s bodyguard until Chip gets back.” I said. “It’s not like they’ll be completely out of our sight but they will be out of our hair. They can occupy each other while we concentrate on Sophia.”

  “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that bit about me being in your hair and take the job.” Grams had slipped into the room unnoticed. “It’s about time you all came to your senses.”

  She lifted the brim of her fedora and pushed it back on her head, then snuggled in close to Lizzy and me. “You’re not believing Chip’s malarkey about dropping his phone and being booked under the wrong name, are you?”

  The neck of her oversized T-shirt had slipped over one skinny shoulder exposing a white bra strap. She thunked her candlestick on the worktable and freed her hands to adjust the shirt. “I’ll get to the bottom of this or my name’s not Sherlock Dingler.”

  It wasn’t Sherlock, but we let her enjoy the moment. What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 13

  Jaimie drummed her fingers on the passenger window as we waited in my car while Lizzy locked the shop. Setting our hours from
nine to three was the best idea ever. Our crazy days were long enough anything later than three would be exhausting.

  Puff meowed pitifully from the carrier in the backseat. It was a little early for her to be calling for her evening meal—more likely she wasn’t happy being back in her container.

  Grams honked as she pulled her Edsel out on the boulevard, waving at us oblivious to the oncoming traffic and screeching brakes.

  The window drumming continued at a more rapid pace. “When are we going to work on the murder mystery?” Jaimie whined. “You need to know your parts. I have to explain my secret spoof to you gals or you might give me away.”

  The idea of giving her away was not without a certain charm.

  Lizzy wiggle-walked to my car window. “So we’re rehearsing tonight? Your place?”

  Jaimie clapped her hands. “Finally!”

  “Pizza?” I asked.

  “Sounds good. Heather and I will pick up Grams. Be at your condo at six.” She winked at Jaimie. “Not to worry. Leave it to your friends.”

  Lizzy slid in her VW Beetle and squealed out of the lot.

  Jaimie held my passenger door open stubbornly refusing to close it. “We have to stop at my house. The scripts are there.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If Grams is my bodyguard she should be with me at all times.”

  “Heavens to Betsy no on Grams! We can handle this on our own. Now close the car door. I’ll take you to your house. You run in, grab the scripts and run out. I don’t want to hang around there—just in case.”

  I pulled out onto Starfish Boulevard headed south. “How did Chip handle the news about us trapped in the garage?”

  “He asked how much I’d had to drink, then chalked it up to my imagination.” Jaimie nibbled on her fingernails. “I think my credibility flew out the broken garage door. It’s times like this when I think about giving up drinking. I’d have to replace it with another hobby and there’s nothing else that interests me.”

  Jaimie’s mini-mansion looked a bit shopworn as I pulled into the driveway. The familiar yellow crime tape stretched across the plywooded garage door. One section of shrubbery sat mashed while the lawn around it was crushed with tire tracks. The emergency vehicle had left wide black lines and oil drippings on the concrete drive.

  Jaimie sighed. “Darn good thing I’m not materialistic or I’d be sad right now.” She sniffled. “We’re going to have to plan a memorial service for my little Beemer.”

  Another epic event to add to my calendar.

  Puff yowled when I shut off the engine. A subtle reminder that she wanted out of the car and the carrier.

  “I didn’t take my purse with me last night,” Jaimie said. “My driver’s license and credit cards are in there. Someone could have snatched them. Follow me to my bedroom. I’ll get my purse, a nightie, and a clean change of clothes.”

  So much for our quick dash in to get the scripts.

  With the kitty carrier in one hand and my hairspray in the other, I followed Jaimie up the steps. Going back to the scene of last night’s close call made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Jaimie put her key in the lock. “If there’s a lurker, you go high and I’ll go low.”

  Puff sneezed as we entered the foyer. Though faint, the exhaust fumes were a shivery reminder.

  “Make it quick,” I snapped at Jaimie. I followed her up to her bedroom, hairspray at the ready.

  Jaimie snatched her purse from the floor next to her dressing table and handed it to me. Then she disappeared into a closet and came out holding a sundress in one hand and a nightgown in another. She draped them over my arm half covering the kitty carrier. She had me confused with a clothes tree.

  “I’ll get my lucky shoes from the shoe closet and then grab the scripts.”

  She disappeared into another closet and curiosity nudged me to follow, burdened with her stuff along with the kitty carrier. Jaimie’s shoe closet looked like the ladies’ footwear department of Neiman Marcus. The minimalist in me shuddered at the racks of shoes separated by style and color. She grabbed a pair of high-heeled sandals.

  “These babies always bring me luck.” Jaimie dangled the tan shoes by the straps and then squinted at them. She tapped the high heel on one sandal and it wobbled. She looked stunned.

  She dropped down on a settee in the closet. I sat next to her gently placing the kitty carrier on the floor along with her purse. I balanced her clothes in my lap.

  “Gucci heels never break.” She pressed the bottom of the heel and it split from the sole. I took a close look at the shoe as she wiggled the heel loose.

  “Were these the shoes you had on when you crashed?”

  She shook her head. “Last time I wore these was this past weekend. They were fine then.”

  “There’s a dig mark on the sole above where the heel attaches.” I pointed to the suspicious groove. “Leave those in your closet. I think Kal should look at them.”

  “Olive, please stop. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Have you got any flats or sneakers?”

  “Me? Sneakers?” She sniffed as if I’d insulted her.

  “You must have flats. Grab a pair and let’s get out of here.”

  Jaimie went to the back of her shoe emporium and came back with a pair of Ferragamo flats with tailored bows on the toes. She stuffed her dress, nightie, and shoes in an overnight bag.

  “The scripts are in Chip’s study.”

  I followed her downstairs carefully carrying my tolerant kitty who’d given up meowing.

  Chip’s study was just off the living room. Like the rest of the house the muted colors brought the outdoors in. A chrome and glass desk placed in front of a picture window provided a panoramic view of the Gulf of Mexico.

  A monstrous contemporary shelving unit took up one wall. Crystal dolphins and other nautical tchotchkes sat on glass shelves while the base of the étagère was comprised of sand-colored blocks with drawer pulls.

  “Got it!” Jaimie grabbed a thick folder from the center of Chip’s desk.

  “Check out the sofa.” She pointed to an off-white L-shaped couch. “That’s where Chip and the butler are going to stash my body after I drink the poisoned champagne.” She smirked. “Or not!”

  Jaimie possessed multiple personalities—able to swing from terrified to enfant terrible in the same sentence. She was looking forward to playing the role of a corpse.

  In light of all that had happened, I hoped it would only be a role.

  Chapter 14

  “Pizza’s here!” I placed two boxes on the coffee table in my living room. My kitchen was unusable as it was set up to resemble a cold cream factory, ready for Sophia’s inspection tomorrow.

  “Coming!” Heather said. She was playing peek-a-boo with Puff and WonderDog. Her childish giggles added a light note to what had been a stressful twenty-four hours.

  Jaimie stood holding the folder with our scripts. She frowned at Lizzy. “The play?” she said and then gave a quick nod in Heather’s direction. Whatever Jaimie had in mind, she didn’t want the child to hear.

  “How about eating your pizza out on the balcony?” Lizzy asked Heather. “I can set up a little party at the patio table.”

  “Can Puff and WonderDog come too?” Heather picked up the kitty in her arms. “I’ll be real careful with Puff and use her leash. I won’t let her look between the railings.”

  One warning from Puff’s vet about high-rise syndrome was enough to put me on constant guard with her on the patio. “When something catches a cat’s fancy they are apt to go for it,” Dr. Connelly said. “You might consider a Catio. Many of my patients’ parents are building enclosed balconies for their kitties.”

  Lizzy placed a slice of pizza on a plate. She carried the dish and a glass of iced tea to the patio table where Heather waited. The critters happily joined the child and watched attentively for any dropped crumbs. I was able to see everything that happened on the balcony through the sliding glass door while hearing th
e details of Jaimie’s plot.

  With her drama-queen antics in high gear, Jaime ignored the pizza and handed us each a sheet of paper. “These are your scripts. There isn’t much to memorize. Make it up as you go along. The idea is to keep the mystery moving. Be careful not to give any clues. All that the guests know is that their detective skills were requested for a murder mystery party.”

  “We’re having the living room decorated to look like a 1920s jazz nightclub. Everyone will be in costume dressed as flappers and dappers.” She glanced around. “I hope you all have your outfits.”

  I’d found a nifty amber-colored, beaded flapper dress in a vintage boutique in Tampa. I couldn’t wait to wear it. How often would I get to look like Miss Fisher in one of her mysteries?”

  “I’m the victim,” Jaimie continued. “Lizzy is the murderer. Chip and I picked you to be the killer because you look the most innocent.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Lizzy said.

  “Olive, you’re the medical examiner. I’ll need your help to pull my prank on Chip.”

  “How does a medical examiner dress?”

  “Something serious, dark, no frills. No flappers or anything like that.”

  My lovely flapper dress just flapped out the window.

  “Grams, it’s important you look the part of the owner of the nightclub. Is your costume really fancy?”

  “It’s gonna knock your socks off.” Grams stood and reached for her candlestick that sat on an end table. “No one will guess I’m really your bodyguard.”

  I moved the candlestick slightly out of her reach. Too many vulnerable noggins and glass tables were within range of another baton twirl.

  “Grams, are you still connected to the community theater?” Jaimie asked.

  Grams seemed not to hear the question. “Hate when these droop.” She lifted her flamingo-printed dress to just above her knees and adjusted the rolled tops of her stockings. She had a whisky flask tucked in the top of her nylons. “Just giving you all a preview of my costume.”