Beach Blanket Homicide

by Maria Geraci

  “I thought Rusty said she fell. Do the police think someone killed her?”

  “I never said that,” Travis says cautiously. “But we need Sebastian to tell us exactly what happened and we’re hoping that you can convince him to do that.”

  “Well, I’ll certainly try.”

  “Can you talk to him today? It’s important we wrap this up as soon as possible.”

  I nod woodenly because even though I’ve just told him I’ll try, I doubt Sebastian will tell me anything. Not if he feels that it will somehow betray a confidence.

  I wait till Travis leaves, then I slump into my living room couch. My head is spinning. What on earth was Sebastian doing in the rec center in the middle of the night with Abby Delgado?

  Even though a part of me knows it’s irrational to blame Travis Fontaine for any of this, I still can’t help it. He might not have said it aloud, but he not-so-tactfully accused Sebastian of…who knows what?

  As if my brother, the priest, who’s never even hurt a fly in his whole life, was guilty of some kind of wrongdoing!

  I grab a sweater and my car keys.

  This situation calls for immediate action.

  Chapter Eight

  I explain everything to Sarah, and since Jill has clean-up duty, she tells me to take the rest of the day off. I don’t bother calling my brother because I don’t want him to find an excuse to avoid me, so I charge over to the rectory.

  It takes Sebastian a few minutes to answer the door. He looks surprised to see me in the middle of the day. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  I brush past him and plop myself down on the couch. “What on earth were you doing at the rec center in the middle of the night with Abby Delgado?”

  “How did you—” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Never mind. So the cops came to see you, huh?”

  “Yep. And I need you to fess up. Now.”

  He raises a brow at my use of the word “fess.”

  “Sebastian,” I say trying to imitate our mother’s voice.

  “Okay. This is what I can tell you. Abby wanted me to perform an exorcism on someone she thought was possessed. I tried to humor her because she was a nice lady, and even though she belonged to that ghost society, she didn’t have any real friends.”

  My shoulders sag. Abby wasn’t one of my favorite people. Not even close. Most days she was a nuisance, but she was a loyal customer, and as kooky as it sounds, I’m going to miss her sneaky free lunch trick. It never occurred to me that she might have been lonely. I wish I’d been nicer to her that last day.

  “Who did she think was possessed?”

  “It’s not relevant.”

  “Of course it’s relevant! The police think that Abby’s death wasn’t accidental.”

  He stills. “They said that?”

  “No one has to come out and tell me what’s right under my nose. You should have seen that crew at the rec center. Taking pictures and fingerprints…and this Travis person running around like he’s auditioning for the lead role in a Law and Order remake. So I’m going to ask you again. Who did Abby think was possessed? Let me guess, Phoebe Van Cleave?”

  “All I’m going to tell you is that Abby had some concerns about a friend of hers and she wanted me to help. When I explained that I couldn’t help in the way she wanted, then she became upset. Friday night she called and apologized for her behavior at The Bistro and asked me to meet her in the rec center. She said it was a matter of life or death.”

  “Didn’t you think that was weird?”

  “We’re talking about Abby here.”

  “Point taken.”

  “So against my better judgment, I went. But when I got there, she told me that she didn’t need me anymore and that everything had been taken care of.”

  “As in, taken care of because her friend was all right, or taken care of because she’d found someone else who’d perform her exorcism?”

  “She didn’t say, and frankly, I didn’t ask because it was late and I was tired, and the whole thing was ridiculous.”

  Neither of us say anything for a few minutes.

  “Okay, so you went to the rec center. You saw Abby. And the two of you talked.”

  He nods. “But don’t ask me what we talked about, because that was confidential.”

  “You were there for about five minutes?”

  “I wanted to walk her to her car, but she insisted on staying longer, so I left.”

  “And you never saw anyone else there?”

  He hesitates like he’s holding something back and I’m expecting his next words to be a lie. “Just the dog.”

  Hmmm…. Sebastian is telling the truth.

  “One more question. Why did she want to meet inside the rec center? Why not here at the rectory? And how did you get inside the building?”

  “That’s two questions.”

  I give him the same look I use on Tony, our flour vendor, when he’s late on his deliveries. I mean, how am I supposed to make muffins without flour?

  It works because Sebastian answers, “I thought the rec center location was odd, not to mention illegal since we didn’t have a right to meet there, but she was adamant. She said that since the building was haunted—her words, not mine—that it was the best location. She told me to go in through the side door. It was unlocked when I got there.”

  “You know they have security cameras? According to Travis Fontaine, you and Abby are the only ones who went into the building that night.”

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “Sebastian, this all looks really bad.”

  “In what way?”

  “In what way? If the police think that Abby was pushed or was involved in a struggle, then the fall that caused her death isn’t accidental. And if you’re the only person who was there that night… Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “Are you saying that the police think I caused Abby’s death?” He shuts his eyes for a few long seconds. “Dear God. They’re right. This is all my fault. I should never have left her alone. I should have demanded that she allow me to walk her to her car.”

  “Oh no. You don’t get to play the martyr. If someone did cause Abby’s death, then that’s on them. But don’t you see? You have to tell me who she thought was possessed, because obviously whoever it was, might have had a motive to hurt Abby.”

  “I can tell you positively one hundred percent that the…person she thought was possessed didn’t kill her.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I just am.”

  “And I thought I was the stubborn one in the family,” I mutter.

  “Why don’t we let the police do their jobs? If anything sinister happened, then the truth will come out eventually.”

  “Eventually? You’re so trusting of everyone. Zeke, sure, he’s on our side. But this new guy? You should have seen the gleam in his eyes. He’s practically feral.”

  “I think you’ve been watching too many episodes of America’s Most Vicious Criminals.”

  “And you haven’t seen enough of them. You should see how wonky the evidence can be in these cases! There’s plenty of innocent people who’ve been railroaded by the police, believe you me.”

  “Lu-cy,” he says, mimicking Ricky Ricardo from the old I Love Lucy series. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  Usually, this makes me laugh, but not today.

  “I know that Travis Fontaine has it out for you. What? Did you make him say too many Hail Mary’s as penance on his last confession?”

  Sebastian grunts. “First off, I never give out Hail Mary’s as penance. That’s old school. And it’s called reconciliation now, which you would know if you ever went.”

  “I go. Sometimes. Just not to you. Now don’t change the subject.” I decide to pull out the big guns. “I should call mom and dad and tell them what’s going on. I bet Mom could make you tell the cops what they want to know.”

  Sebastian gives me a look that makes me shrink into th
e sofa. “Don’t you dare ruin mom and dad’s last week at the cabin.”

  I have to hand it to my big brother. He probably graduated top of his class in Guilt Infliction 101.

  Our parents are what we call reverse snowbirds. After a lifetime of living in the Florida heat and humidity, they bought a cabin in Maine where they spend the summer months. They’ll be back home in Whispering Bay sometime next week. Probably just in time to see Sebastian arrested.

  He gets up from his chair. “Look, neither of us is going to change the other one’s mind, so I suggest we get back to our lives and let our tax money be put to good use. Let the cops take care of it. Now, I have a sermon to work on. See you later, Lucy,” he says back in Ricky Ricardo mode.

  I go to leave, because what else can I do?

  “By the way,” he says casually in a way that makes me think he doesn’t want to bring this up but feels like he has to, “have you spoken to Will lately?”

  “Not since the day of the rec center celebration. Why?”

  “It’s just that he and Brittany are going out Friday night. On a date.”

  My stomach suddenly turns queasy, like I’ve licked too much raw muffin batter off the spoon (yes, I know it’s not good for me but don’t judge till you’ve tried it). This isn’t exactly a surprise. Will told me he was going to ask Brittany out. But I must have been hoping that she’d turn him down.

  And if that’s the case, what kind of friend am I?

  I do my best to smile. “That’s great! I hope they have a good time.”

  “Lucy,” my brother says gently, “Brittany’s not a bad person.”

  Et tu, Sebastian? Those are the exact same words Will used to describe her.

  Technically, I suppose it’s true since as far as I know she hasn’t been involved in any criminal activity since kindergarten.

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Before he can say anything else, I kiss him goodbye on the cheek.

  He gives me a smile meant to reassure me, but it’s strained. Whatever happened between Sebastian and Abby has him troubled. He waits by the door until I get in my car and drive off. I might not be able to save Will from Brittany’s French manicured clutches, but I can certainly do something to help my brother.

  Let the cops take care of things?

  Poor innocent, gullible Sebastian.

  If he won’t help himself out of this mess, then I’ll have to do it for him.

  Which means it’s up to me to figure out what really happened to Abby Delgado.

  Chapter Nine

  Mexico Beach is about an hour away, so it’s after five by the time I get there. Our beautiful cool November weather has fizzled, and it’s back into the upper eighties again. I’m hungry, thirsty and hot, but I’m on a mission.

  I’m going to visit Abby’s brother Derrick and offer him my condolences, which is the decent thing to do. Plus, I want to see if he knows anything about Paco. Just because Officer Fontaine says that Derrick denied owning the dog doesn’t mean I should just take his word for it.

  Since I’m assuming he’s around the same age Abby was, I keep my fingers crossed that he still has a landline which would mean he’s listed in the phone book. But finding a phone book these days is like coming across a winning lottery ticket just lying around on the floor.

  After three gas stations, I find one that still has a pay phone and I’m in luck. There’s only one Derrick Delgado in the directory, and according to the map app on my smartphone, his address is just a few miles away.

  Mexico Beach is one of those communities on the gulf with the picturesque pastel houses, but Derrick’s home is nothing like those. His trailer sits on the edge of town on a big isolated lot. The grass is overgrown, and there’s trash strewn all over the place. I carefully make my way through the weeds, lest I accidentally step on a snake, because that would totally ruin my day. I should probably have called first, but my Spidey sense told me not to.

  I walk up the wooden steps to the rickety porch and knock on the door. After a couple of minutes of nothing, I ring the doorbell for good measure just in case Derrick is hard of hearing. I wait for another couple of minutes, then give up. He must not be home.

  I consider leaving him a note, when a man’s voice says, “Turn around. Nice and slow and keep your hands where I can see ‘em.”

  Definitely not words you want to hear when you’re all alone out in the middle of nowhere. I gulp and turn around to find myself looking down the barrel of a shotgun.

  But worse than that, sitting on the porch ledge next to the man with the shotgun, is a squirrel. And it’s staring at me with his beady little eyes like he’s ready to attack.

  Most people find squirrels adorable, but they’ve been fooled. To me, squirrels are nothing more than aggressive rats with furry tails.

  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” The man is a little older than Abby was with a gleaming bald head and small brown eyes. His long-sleeved shirt is sweat-stained and stretched against a massive beer belly.

  “Please, um, Mr. Delgado? I mean, I assume you must be Mr. Delgado, I don’t mean any harm. Can you…can you tell your squirrel to go away?”

  “My what?”

  While still keeping my hands up, I gesture to the monster on the ledge. “Chip, Dale, Killer…whatever you call him. He’s kind of freaking me out.”

  He snickers, then playfully aims the gun at the squirrel, who immediately takes off running across the lawn.

  I breathe a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you!”

  He turns the gun back on me. “What are you doing sneaking up on my house? Trying to break in?”

  “No, of course not! I’m—”

  “You from the bank?” The gun stays firmly aimed at my head, so I keep my hands in the air because I really don’t want this bozo to shoot me.

  “The bank? No, no… You have it all wrong. I was a friend of your sister’s.”

  He relaxes a little. “If you’re here to ask for something of hers so you can conjure her back up or whatever it is you people do, then you can forget it.”

  “You think I’m a member of the Sunshine Ghost Society?”

  “If you were a friend of Abby’s then you were definitely in that spook club of hers. Abby didn’t have any other friends.”

  “I was more of an… acquaintance. Honest. I don’t even believe in ghosts. As a matter of fact, I laughed all the way through Beetlejuice.”

  “So you ain’t one of those wackos?”

  “Nope. I’m completely normal.” Sort of.

  “Then how did you know my sister?” He inspects me closer. Jeans, T-shirt, sneakers and a ponytail. Not exactly threatening attire.

  “She was a customer,” I squeak.

  He lowers his gun. Finally!

  “Why didn’t you say so?” he grumbles. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

  “You have?”

  “Sure. When the law office said they were sending a courier, I was expectin’ a guy, but I guess these days that’s politically incorrect or whatever bullshit you want to call it.”

  Law office?

  I know I should identify myself immediately. I came over here today to tell Derrick how sorry I was about his sister, and to see if he knew anything about Paco, but as far as I’m concerned, this little Hee-Haw routine of his changes everything. Plus, I’d really like to find out more about this law firm business.

  He walks around me and opens the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

  If this were a scene from a movie, I’d definitely have blonde hair and big boobs. Because as foolish as it seems, I’m going to be the too-stupid-to-live heroine and follow a strange man who’ve I’ve just lied to and who seconds ago was pointing a gun at my head into his house.

  Derrick Delgado’s home is furnished moderately and is relatively clean compared to the outside. His T.V. is one of those old behemoths encased in a faux wooden box. Either he:

  A) doesn’t believe in flat screens.

  B) can�
�t afford to update.

  Or

  C) is afraid of plasma rays stealing whatever brain cells he has left.

  I opt for B with a strong possible side of C.

  He sits down on a beat-up sofa. I select the chair farthest from him. “I’m really sorry about your sister. Her death must have come as a shock to you.”

  “Sort of.”

  He watches me with an expectant gaze that makes me squirm. Or maybe the chair has a flea infestation. Or worse…

  Concentrate, Lucy.

  It’s a total long shot, but maybe there’s a chance he knew something about the exorcism. “Did you know that Abby was, um, being counseled by a local priest?”

  “She wasn’t religious. Unless you call that ghost society she runs around with a religion. More of a cult, if you ask me.” He growls under his breath. “Don’t tell me she left all her money to the Church.”

  Boy, this guy is a piece of work all right. His sister hasn’t even been buried yet, and all he’s worried about is that she might have left him out of her will.

  Which means…

  My heart begins to race. Then my cell phone goes off.

  I glance at the screen.

  Rats. It’s Travis. This is the second time he’s called in the last hour. The first time he left a message asking if I’d had a chance to talk to Sebastian. There’s no way I’m going to tell him that I struck out with my own brother. Plus, I’m busy now. Go away, Officer Fontaine. I almost wish he could see the grin on my face as I hit the decline button on his call.

  “Sorry about that. Now, where we were? Oh, yes, the will. I’m just a messenger so I’m not privy to the contents of Miss Delgado’s will, but I heard that she had some dealings with a Father McGuffin from St. Perpetua’s in Whispering Bay.”

  Wow. Not bad if I do say so myself. I’m actually pretty good at making things up on the fly.

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted him to do the funeral service.”