by Jessa Archer
Angelo leaned over to reach for a beer that was chilling in the cooler. “So this event happens every Labor Day in Misty?” he asked.
“This is an anniversary of the very first boat parade. The fiftieth, maybe?” I said. “I think that’s why Pursley came back to be part of it.” I was a little bit excited and a little bit intimidated to be sitting so close to Angelo. I had invited him to join us for the party on the beach and I was pretty thrilled that he’d come along.
There were oohs and ahs all over the beach as the people who had come out to see the annual light parade cheered for the famous local boy. It had just gotten dark enough to start, and most folks were cleaning up from their meals — which ranged from sumptuous spreads of buttered lobster to hot dogs roasted on a stick. My tummy was happily full from our delicious clambake and roasted corn feast.
“Well, I got the update on the Pursley boy from my friend Dorothea.” My mother was always helpful in adding background information about the local lore. “Dorothea—she’s one of the Misty Meddlers, you know, we have a Facebook group? Did I tell you about that? Who knew that Facebook could be so useful? We call it FB, isn’t that clever?” She looked around as if she was the first to think of it, smiling with pride.
“So Dorothea went to school with the young Pursley’s mother—at Porter’s of course, in Farmington—back before she married Pursley. She was originally Jennifer Drummond.”
My mother had joined us for the beach party and to watch the annual light parade, and she was never happier than when she could hold forth in front of a group. “Apparently Everett the third—that’s this young man. His father is Everett Reginald Pursley, Junior—that’s the one who was married to Jennifer—and of course his father, the one who started the aeronautics company… before World War II. He was Everett Reginald Pursley. The original!”
As Mom gave her historical update, our party sat down while the decorated boats kept gliding by. Everyone had agreed that we were lucky to have such a perfect night for the show. Warm but with a light wind blowing, smooth waters, and with a lovely sickle moon floating along in the sky. Small fires dotted August Beach where other groups were sitting to enjoy the parade. The sunset festivities of swimming and eating had led to a gorgeous evening for watching our annual Misty Lights on the Sound flotilla.
We had a pretty nice set-up, with a couple of big umbrellas, beach chairs, and a big basket of food. During the day it had been comfortably warm, but now the temperature was definitely dropping.
Liz Cantwell, who lived some distance up the beach, had also joined us for our feast and parade viewing. She was always super sweet in dealing with Mr. Woogles, and had made sure to keep him calm throughout all the excitement of other people playing, swimming, and dining on the beach. “I remember the early parades when I was a little girl,” Liz said. “It was this Pursley’s grandfather who started it. If I’m doing the math right, that was in 1969.”
“You’re doing the math just right, Liz,” Bryce said. “Although, of course, I wasn’t around yet.”
“But Bryce, this is not correct,” Sergio, Bryce’s partner, said. “That is your año de nacimiento, no?” He said it quickly and under his breath, so I wasn’t sure if we were all supposed to hear it.
Bryce looked at Sergio in mock indignation. “Sergio! That was our secret.” He gave Sergio a playful tap on the knee. “And it doesn’t help to say it in Spanish. I daresay that Dr. D’Amore here knows enough Italian to parse that phrase.”
Angelo smiled. “I know what it means. But as a physician, I am professionally bound to keep things like age confidential.”
“And I know, too!” My mother crowed. “It means the year of birth. So that makes Bryce fifty, right?” She adopted a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned toward him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still a baby. I’m turning 70 this year. And I’m still feeling pretty darn frisky.”
Everyone laughed, and I suppressed a groan. Bryce bowed slightly to my mother. “Thank you, dear lady, for the reassurance. It’s not often that I get called baby these days.”
I felt a slight chill as the breeze sprung up, and Angelo handed me the jacket I was groping for behind my chair. “Thanks,” I said, pulling it around me. I wasn’t exactly sure whether this was a date or just two friends hanging out together. Since we had officially wrapped up our professional relationship—once the murder at his house was solved—and I was no longer representing him as an attorney, I was free to be more than friends.
I had conflicting feelings about my attraction to both Angelo and Logan, my old boyfriend. Logan had been married for years to one of our former classmates, but his marriage was apparently over, and he was a free man. I knew that he’d be busy tonight taking care of his sheriff’s duties at the boat launch where the parade started, down by the seawall. So it seemed like a good night to spend some beach time with Angelo, who was, after all, my neighbor.
He’d finally completed the renovations on his mansion across the street from the beach, and the D’Amore Spa on the Sound was set to open for business next month. Everything had been delayed after Roger Winthrop died under suspicious circumstances, and Angelo was forced to halt the work, but the culprits had been arrested. And I took some pride in having had a major role in solving the mystery.
Of course I got into a little trouble in the process… but since I was sure that Misty wouldn’t see another murder for decades, I probably wouldn’t be seeing action like that again any time soon.
The boats continued to glide by us, each light display more dazzling than the last. Big or small, they were all impressive in a different way. Clearly there was a lot of partying happening out on the water… people were dancing, and loud music blared from the bigger boats. Some of them looked packed with bodies. Fortunately, the water on the Sound was calm, and the sailing was easy tonight. But there were always eddies and currents under the surface, so I hoped everyone was observing safe boating practices.
At the end, a tugboat came by with a banner saying “Misty-on-the-Sound 50th Annual Light Parade Tail.” Naturally, the tug was decorated as a dragon with a tail. Raucous cheers went up from the crowd on the beach, and the fireworks started. It was a heck of a display for a little town like Misty, and it gave me a surge of pride.
Sergio spoke up from across the fire. “Pepper. Will you sing a song to end the lovely night?”
“Yes please, Pepper. Now that the fireworks are over and all the boats have gone, we need something to amuse us,” Bryce said.
Angelo turned to me and his deep brown eyes were particularly mesmerizing with the firelight leaping in them. “That’s right. You’re not just a lawyer, you’re singer too. But I’ve never heard you.”
I loved to sing, but sitting on the beach after a clambake and a beer, without having warmed up, wasn’t the best opportunity to make my vocal debut in front of Angelo. I tried to discourage the suggestion.
“Please don’t make us beg you, darling,” Bryce said. “We really would enjoy hearing a song.”
My mother stood up. “Pepper loves to sing. She’s been singing since she was a little girl. We couldn’t stop her!” She was smiling. No doubt she was trying to be encouraging.
Now I would look foolish if I didn’t agree. “Okay,” I said. “I’d be happy to sing something for you. Keep in mind that I haven’t warmed up —“
“No caveats, sweetheart. Out with it,” Bryce commanded.
My mother sat down and I stood up. I could see that the boats were coming back. The fabulous light displays were now turned off and they had only their usual running lights on. The first and biggest yacht was that of Pursley the Third.
I took a deep breath and launched into my song.
What good is sitting alone in your room… Come hear the music play!
Life is a cabaret, old chum…
I was belting out the first verse of Liza Minnelli’s hit when a voice amplified by a loudspeaker came over the water.
“Man overboard! Make that… wom
an overboard!”
TREBLE WITH THE LAW, Legal Beagle Cosy Mystery #2, will be available at in June! Look for it at JessaArcher.com.
More Jessa Archer Cozies
Legal Beagle Mysteries
Thistlewood Star
Hidden Harbor Tea Shop
Knitting Mysteries
Hand Lettering Mysteries
Canterbury Golf Club
Coastal Playhouse
About the Author
Jessa Archer writes sweet, funny, warm-hearted cozy mysteries because she loves a good puzzle and can't stand the sight of blood. Her characters are witty, adventurous, and crafty in the nicest way. You'll find her sleuths hand lettering inspirational quotes, trying to lower golf handicaps, enjoying a scone at a favorite teashop, knitting a sweater, or showing off a dramatic side in local theater.
Jessa's done many things in her long career, including a stint as a journalist and practicing law. But her favorite job is spinning mysteries. She loves playing small town sleuth and transporting readers to a world where the scones are delicious, wine pairs with hand lettering, and justice always prevails.
www.jessaarcher.com
Copyright © 2019 by Jessa P. Archer
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Design: Amy Queau
Scales of Justice/Jessa Archer. — 1st ed.