“I really don’t know what to think,” Meg replied. “I thought their responses were a little off, both of them. When I mentioned Echo, Linda had a visceral reaction. The life practically drained from her eyes. I think there’s more to their relationship. We need to have her over and get the full story.”
They put their purchases in the house. Meg bundled the bags and carried them to the car, calling over her shoulder as she was going down the stairs, “Bring Gizmo, Jean. We won’t be out of the car much, if at all. He can come and explore with us.”
“He’ll love that.” Jean bounded down the stairs with Gizmo under her arm and a leash in her hand.
Meg pulled up to the market and left the car running while she shot out to take the bags to Linda. She returned to the car shortly with a piece of paper in her hand, waving it at Jean when she was back behind the wheel. “This is Linda’s phone number. She invited us to play bridge with her group at the country club. Summer vacations have them short a few players. I told her I’d check with you and give her a call.”
“I’d love to play,” Jean responded. “You know I love to play bridge. What about you, though? You’re not a club fan.”
“I think it’d be fun. A regular group isn’t my thing, but I don’t mind substituting sometimes. Linda said they’re a laid-back group, not snippy or overly serious. I think I can handle them.”
Jean smiled, shaking her head. “Well, it’ll be a chance to meet new people and see a new place. We can get the local scoop.”
“It’ll be a treat to be with a new group where there’s no risk of them asking us to volunteer for anything,” Meg said.
“Isn’t that the truth,” Jean agreed. “I’ve started hiding from Mary Thames in the grocery store. It’s always something with her. If she’s not asking for your time, she’s asking for your money. She needs to tap into some new blood. I’ve just about been bled dry. Last month she was selling Girl Scout cookies.”
I feel the same way,” Meg laughed. “Is it wrong to be convinced you’ve done your part and move on?”
“Not only is it not wrong, I’m convinced it’s genius for the sake of sanity. You know those little stickers they give you when you vote that say ‘I Voted’? We need to sell some that say ‘Stick a Fork in Me, I’m Done.’” Jean giggled and turned to glance at Gizmo in the back seat.
Meg drove all the way to the bridge at San Luis Pass, looking at the new housing along the way. When they rode back through Jamaica Beach, the market vendors were closing their booths and taking down canopies. Meg slowed to see the other stores open in the little town. They noted a small beach-themed shop with T-shirts, a pizza place, and a small grocery store. There was also an art gallery and a place selling large pieces of driftwood and outdoor furniture.
“It’s a lazy little town,” Meg commented.
“Just right for a vacation community,” Jean agreed.
After a swing through Galveston Island State Park, Meg turned toward the beach and their little house. “You want to take a bike ride, Jean? There are a couple of bicycles in the storage closet. We could put on our swimsuits and do some exploring closer to home, then get in the hot tub and start the cocktail hour.”
“Sounds good to me.”
One of the bicycles had a basket on the front large enough for Gizmo. They wore cover-ups and hats as they pedaled down the sandy road and across the highway toward the neglected neighborhood where the Charles house was located. The road continued past the house to the bay and a fishing pier. There were others taking off to the east, but Meg hadn’t observed any other cars or traffic going down them. There were only three other houses, unoccupied and neglected. The yards were untended, grasses were growing over the driveways, and boards hung loose, swinging in the breeze, partly secured from the windows.
As they approached the Charles house, Meg noticed there was foil up on the inside of the windows. She stared at the upper level of the house, not noticing when Echo appeared, rushing down the driveway toward the road, meeting them at the tilting mailbox. Gizmo gave a slight growl at her swift approach.
“What can I do for you ladies?” Echo called to them from a slight distance.
Meg stopped her bicycle and stood still as Echo walked closer. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Is this a private road?”
“No, not really,” Echo said. “It’s just that not many people come here. That’s what we like about it, the privacy.”
“Well, we’re headed for that pier,” Meg said. “Just doing a little exploring.” She sniffed, noticing the metallic ammonia odor again.
“Leon’s not fond of people coming down this road. He’s a little edgy. He asked me to tell you that he’d prefer if you stay on the other side of the highway.” Echo put her hands in her back pockets and thrust her braless chest forward. She wore the same tank top Meg had seen her in a couple of times.
“Oh, is that so?” Meg said. “This appears to be a neighborhood of sorts. Do you threaten others in the same way or just me?” She was indignant, especially since Leon didn’t mind sending Echo to bother her for information and the telephone.
Meg noted new bruises on Echo’s upper arm. “Is he abusive to you, Echo? I’ve seen bruising on you a couple of times.”
Echo put her hand over the bruises on her arm. “No, no, not at all. I’m really clumsy.” She swayed in an uncomfortable stance and gave a weak cough.
“You tell Leon we were going to invite him for dinner, but never mind, he doesn’t seem to be a social person.” Meg was being sarcastic. She didn’t like the sound of Leon and her sarcasm was an attempt to put him in his place via Echo. “You be careful with him, Echo. You’re too pretty to put up with a boyfriend who’ll mistreat you. Is the electricity on in there?”
Echo rolled her lips inward and bit down on her lower one, looking toward her feet. She jerked her head up and lifted a defiant chin. “Leon’s handy and resourceful. He figured out how to get the generator going. We have electricity.”
“I see. Is that what that racket is?” Meg asked. Funny, one day Leon’s not very handy, but now he’s resourceful.
“Yes, the generator does make some noise.”
Meg looked to the second floor and noticed a small window with no foil. She saw a quick movement, as if someone stepped away. “We’re going to continue down to the pier as we intended and then head back, Echo. Don’t worry about us intruding. We don’t want to do that. I just wanted to see what it was like over here.”
“Okay, I’ll let Leon know not to worry.”
As they rode toward the pier, Meg speculated about what Echo reported to Leon. “I bet she went up and called me an old bitch and told him I think he’s abusive.”
“Not if he really is,” Jean said, pedaling to keep up with Meg’s anger-fueled speed. “An abused woman would probably never speak to an abuser in that way. I imagine she tries to appease him.”
“I just want to poke him in the eye,” Meg growled.
“Yeah, me, too. She obviously has self-esteem issues. Sad, huh. She does have some natural beauty to her, but she’s trying to appear younger than she might be. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Meg continued pedaling toward the pier.
They laid the bikes in the tall grass, proceeding on foot to the pier, which was sloping and missing boards, too rickety for them to walk on. It wasn’t much to look at, but there were various water birds walking through the shallows. They spotted a few rosette spoonbills and a blue heron. It would have been a great place for some chairs, a peaceful place for a glass of wine to watch the sunset.
“I’m sure Mr. Charles envisioned a little paradise here on this cove,” Meg said. “Too bad his plan couldn’t have been realized. I can see the attraction.”
“Yeah.” Jean nodded, looking over the bay. “This could be scenic. The view is quite nice. The property must be valuable.”
They left the area with more questions than answers about the neglected development.
Meg pu
t the plate of cheese and salami on the kitchen island with a box of crackers and poured them both a glass of sangria. They sampled snacks, then stripped off their cover-ups, and headed for the hot tub.
“Did you notice the odor around Echo, Jean?” Meg asked, her voice raised over the bubbles in the hot tub.
“No, I didn’t. I wasn’t that close to her.”
“It’s like a chemical thing, maybe metallic. I’m not sure.”
“I hate to say it, but it sounds like meth,” Jean said as she winced. “There was that foil over the windows. Now that you mention an odor, it makes sense. There’s an obvious chemical smell about meth. Rose Johnson had that problem over in her neighborhood and described the odor just as you have. I would recognize it if I smelled it again. I used to make visits to houses with that smell during my social work days.” She wagged her finger in the air and took a sip from her wineglass.
“Maybe Anthony Anthony is right. Maybe the sheriff should be alerted about squatters. They could blow that house up.” Meg didn’t think they should go down the little road leading to the Charles house again. Now that she’d seen what was there, she didn’t need to go back. She didn’t want to see Echo heading down the road that only led to her little cottage either. The encounter earlier hadn’t been friendly, and there was something eerie about being peered at from an upstairs window.
Son of a bitch must not have a telescope.
Seven
MEG TELEPHONED LINDA to let her know she and Jean looked forward to playing bridge with her group. She got directions to the country club and agreed to be there just before noon.
“It’s my treat, Meg. We’ll have lunch, and then we’ll adjourn to a smaller room where there are several tables of bridge and mah-jongg players. By the way, Tony’s not here right now, but he told me he’s sold five of your bags already, and that was as we were closing down the booth.”
Meg and Jean spent a leisurely evening on the deck after a light supper. Jean sat with a plate of her favorite lemon pound cake in front of her. “This is delicious, Meg. I know you know this is my favorite.”
“Glad you like it. I aim to please.” Meg picked up the wet towels and laid them over the deck railing to dry. She had changed into her nightgown. “You want to make a trip into Galveston in the morning? We can go downtown where all the older buildings are. There’s supposed to be a shop for yarns and needlework there. I can pick up some more supplies for making the bags. We’ll eat lunch and do some window-shopping.”
“I’m up for anything, but that sounds good to me. I can’t believe I’ve lived in Texas all my life, and I’ve never been to this island. I understand it has some history.” Jean finished the last bite of cake and pushed the plate away from her, sighing. “Again, that was scrumptious.”
Meg picked up her phone to look at the time. “Those people are certainly consistent. Look down the beach, Jean. I’m sure that’s Echo and her boyfriend again, running naked into the water.”
Jean glanced to the east. “I believe you’re right. It was about this time last night, wasn’t it? Shall we get on the bicycles and ride down there to let them know we don’t appreciate them disrupting our privacy and invading Pelican Beach?”
“My feet are clean,” Meg laughed. “I don’t want to get them all sandy.”
“You know, they might not have any water over at that house. Is this public utilities here, or are the houses on their own wells and sewer systems?” Jean asked, turning back toward Meg.
“I’m not sure.” Meg stood to get a better view down the beach. “I guess that beach is fairly secluded. Except for this house, there’s not another one for a long while. If you needed to take a bath, I suppose that’s the best place. It’s our own private show. Lucky us.” Meg yawned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to turn in. It’s been a fun day, more activity than I’ve had in a long while.”
“I’m with you on that.”
“We’ll get to sample those cinnamon rolls in the morning. They smelled delicious.” Meg gathered the towels from the porch rail.
“I’m going to have to go on a diet when I get home,” Jean moaned.
There was fog in the early morning, but it burned off quickly and Meg could see it would probably be a cloudless day. The cinnamon rolls were indeed tasty, and the aroma still filled the air. Neither of them could eat more than one with their morning coffee. They headed out the door with their shopping bags shortly before ten.
Meg drove down Seawall Boulevard toward the east. They had a continuous view of the beaches, and the people walking and bicycling along the wide sidewalk on top of the seawall. There were assemblies of chairs and matching turquoise umbrellas along the beach. Long granite jetties extended into the water where fishermen stood, casting their lines into the rolling surf. Children ran, throwing kites into the air, and surfers carried longboards under their arms, gazing at the waves as they marched in the sand toward the water. There was a snow cone truck parked at an angle on a widened spot in the seawall where pedestrians stood in line waiting to order.
“This is quite the beach town, isn’t it?” Jean observed.
“Yes, it’s busy today, I suppose it’s the sunny weather.”
The beach was on one side of the street, and the commercial buildings, eateries, and souvenir shops lined the north side. They eventually came to the Pleasure Pier at 25th Street, and farther down the boulevard at 23rd Street there was Murdoch’s Pier, a large souvenir shop. “You need any souvenirs for the grandkids?” Meg asked.
“I would like to pick up some things, but let’s go downtown first. We can come by here later after we get our bearings.”
Meg continued to drive until she reached 21st Street. She took 21st to Broadway, jagging west over to 25th again, and then heading toward the harbor. “We’ll drive through some of these old neighborhoods after lunch. There are some nice Victorian houses in this area, like the ones we have back home. I hope you’ll indulge me. I’d like to wander through the Rosenberg Library.”
As they traveled down 25th, they could see the top of a large cruise ship, the fat, red stack billowing smoke. “Wow, look at that,” Jean said. “I didn’t know they would have a ship here on a week day.”
“I think they have several ships leaving from this port,” Meg told her. “They stagger the arrivals and departures all during the week. Dorie and Michael took one from here to Key West and the Bahamas. They had a great time. They were gone about seven days.”
They had an up-close view of the ship from the harbor, where they ate lunch sitting on a wooden deck just under the front of the ship. They watched as workers scurried to clean windows and load supplies and luggage.
Jean had bags sitting in the extra chairs at their table, purchases of T-shirts, plus pirate and mermaid puppets for her grandchildren.
The waitress approached with their bill. She put it on the table and smiled. “Are you ladies visiting from somewhere?”
“Yes, we are,” Meg said. “We’re from up close to Dallas. We’re enjoying this change of scenery.”
“Welcome to the island. Have you toured any of the old mansions?”
“Not yet. We might save that for another day.” Jean picked up the bill and waved it at Meg. “It’s mine, Meg. Let me get this. Are you from around here, young lady?”
“Yes, I’ve lived here all my life. Where are you staying?”
Meg squinted up at the young woman, then put her sunglasses on. “We’re staying near Jamaica Beach in a beach rental. It’s perfect and we’re right on the water.”
“Oh, I love it down there. I live in a loft downtown. I like that too, because it’s so easy to get to my job here, and I have lots of friends downtown, but I miss beach living. My grandfather had a little development there, and we were there all the time as children. It was called Charles Cove, though the sign probably blew down in the last storm. He died about a month ago. I don’t know what’ll happen to the property. My family never got along, so dealing with his estate is going
to be a mess.”
“So, you must be a cousin to Echo?” Meg said.
The young woman grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. Her smile faded, and her eyes widened. “How do you know Echo?” the waitress asked after swallowing with a visible gulp. Her brow now furrowed.
Meg watched the girl’s reaction, unsure how to respond. She didn’t know if she should continue talking about Echo, but she’d already said the name aloud, and it was the kind of name that couldn’t be recalled as misspoken. “Echo has been over to my cottage for one thing or another, use of the phone and such.”
“Echo’s here, on the island?” The girl shook her head as if she didn’t believe what Meg was saying, pointing toward the floor when she said the word “here.” The waitress was animated in her questioning, seeking verification that Meg was telling the truth.
“Yes, we saw her yesterday and again last night. She was swimming in the gulf,” Meg said. “Understand, I don’t seek her out. She just keeps turning up.”
“That sounds like Echo. Please don’t mention you talked with me. I’m not fond of her. I’m not going to tell my grandmother she’s close by. The whole family will be in an uproar. She probably doesn’t want anyone to know she’s here, or otherwise we’d have heard from her.” The waitress took Jean’s credit card and the bill and walked away from the table.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” Jean asked.
“I’m not sure,” Meg said. “If I had to guess, I’d say Echo might be estranged from her family, maybe a black sheep or something. You have to admit after meeting her, she’s quite the character. I was just wondering how old she is. I agree with your idea that her features look a bit older than she behaves.”
“Ask her cousin,” Jean prompted.
“Oh, I don’t know. She seems to want to avoid talking about her.”
“I’ll ask her. Here she comes.”
Pelican Beach Murder Page 5