Jean smiled at the young lady. “What’s your name, sweetie?” She accepted the check and her credit card along with the pen.
“Katie, and I was happy to be your server. Thank you for coming in. Hope you enjoy your stay and come back sometime.” It sounded like her standard spiel.
“Oh, we will,” Jean said. “This is a great place for a leisurely lunch, and you’ve been wonderful about telling us places to see. You’re an asset to the restaurant, and I plan to tell the manager that as we leave. You seem a lot younger than Echo. Are you?”
“She’s older than I am. I’m twenty-three, so that would make Echo in her mid-thirties. I haven’t seen her in a long time. I don’t know if I’d recognize her anymore. Last time I saw her, she had jet-black hair and she wore black lipstick.”
“She’s blonde now,” Jean said. “Not platinum, more of a honey-blonde, medium length. I’ve only seen her once, which was yesterday. She’s a pretty woman.”
“Echo’s always been pretty,” Katie agreed. “Pretty is as pretty does, my grandma always says.”
Jean laughed. “My mama used to say that, too. I think I’ve said it a few times myself.”
As they left the restaurant, Jean did catch the manager near the bar to tell him Katie was a good waitress and attentive.
“You handled that nicely,” Meg said.
“Thirtysomething. She looks younger, don’t you think?”
“I never can tell ages. However, she acts like a much younger person. Don’t you think it’s interesting that we’ve only met a couple of people and they both know Echo? She seems to be famous,” Meg said.
Jean giggled. “There is the naked-on-the-beach thing. That could be her claim to fame.”
“You might be right. I have a hunch we’ll be hearing more from her or about her.”
They climbed back in the car, and Meg drove down the streets recommended by a brochure for seeing Victorian houses. They went down Winnie, Ball, and Sealy Streets, then drove around the University of Texas Medical Branch campus to see Old Red. On the way back to 25th Street, they stopped at the Rosenberg Library and made a quick tour. Meg vowed to return and take the time to do some research about the island.
“It’d take a month or more to see everything and eat your way around the island,” Jean said. “But you know what fascinates me more than anything is that Charles family. What do you suppose is the story there?”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Meg agreed, hitting the blinker to turn onto 25th and return to the Seawall. “My hunch is Echo might be much like the Hillard twins. Those girls lost their mother and then lived with a father who didn’t deal with grief. He married a younger woman they didn’t like, then apparently allowed them to associate with other adults who exploited them while he wasn’t paying attention. Their emotional development was stunted as young teenagers and they never recovered. Echo reminds me of them. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think it’s an excuse for inappropriate behavior, but it’s an explanation.”
“I would agree with that. However, I think you give Brian Hillard too much credit. He was paying attention and participating in their exploitation if you ask me,” Jean said, passing Meg a stick of gum. “It follows that the children are impacted by negative family experiences. From what Katie told us, the Charles family has had some problems. Doesn’t it make you curious about what those problems could be?”
“It does. Leon’s a mystery, too. I’d like to know what his story is. My hunch is, if he’s making meth in that house, Echo could do much better.”
“I’m sure she could. It’s called cooking, Meg,” Jean giggled.
“Cooking? What are you talking about?”
“You don’t make meth. You cook it.”
They were stopped at a red light at 61st Street. Meg twisted her head toward Jean and looked over the top of her sunglasses. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“It’s important information from my social work days. No one wanted to make a home visit to a meth house. They tend to stink and blow up at the slightest provocation. I was happy to reach retirement age shortly after methamphetamine became the drug of choice in the rural area.”
Meg turned to continue driving when the light turned green. “It’s sounding more and more like that’s what Leon’s doing over at the Charles house, doesn’t it?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind,” Jean agreed. “The aluminum foil on the windows and that odor you talk about is classic. However, they’ve given us something to talk about, haven’t they? This couple is giving your little paradise over on Pelican Beach some personality.”
Eight
GIZMO WAS EXCITED when Meg and Jean returned. While Meg prepared coffee and cake for their afternoon snack, Jean took Gizmo for a walk on the beach. By the time Meg put away her purchases from their shopping trip and cut the cake, Jean was coming up the stairs. She opened the door from the deck with a whoosh of a breeze.
“Hey, did you notice that sports car parked in the carport of that green house yesterday?” Jean said.
“What green house?” Meg turned from the counter to look at Jean.
“When we rode bikes over to that pier, one of those roads over to the left had about three houses. The middle one was green, and there was a sports car pulled way up under the carport. I could only see the taillights, but it was a white car. I could swear the same car is parked up in the dunes down the beach.” She detached Gizmo’s leash and stood up, placing her hand on her hip. “Down to the east where Gizmo and I just walked, there were two people in it ‘making out,’ as we used to say.”
“Huh? Did you recognize them?” Meg asked.
“I didn’t want to stare, and I turned back when I saw there were people in the car, but judging from the color and length of the hair, Echo would be my guess. That woman gets around.”
“Hmm. That’s interesting. She drives that rusty navy blue van. It was parked at the Charles house yesterday when we went by there. I don’t know who the white car would belong to. You’re talking about those abandoned houses? That’s where you saw the car?”
“Yeah, the house had peeling green paint. It may not have been her just now. I may be making things up in my head because she’s been on my mind,” Jean admitted. “I’m not up on my car models, but I’m pretty sure it was a sports type car.”
“I know what you mean. Unless I see a recognizable emblem with a name on it, I can’t tell one car from another. Some men can identify such things by the sound of the motor. My son-in-law is one of them. He has a car sitting in their garage that hasn’t been moved since they married. Dorie says he tinkers with it in his spare time, orders parts that cost a paycheck, and delights in putting it back together. However, it seems to me that he may be an old man by the time he gets it running,” Meg said. “Though I guess if I tallied up what I spend on yarn and books, I might be surprised what it costs.”
Jean slid the cake over in front of her and took a seat at the kitchen island. She poured some milk in the steaming mug of coffee. “I guess we’d all be surprised if we tallied up what we spend on guilty pleasures. However, you seem to be turning a profit on your hobby.” She took a sip of her coffee. “After I have this cake, I’m going to go out there on that deck chair and read a book.”
“I think I’ll partake in sitting or reclining myself,” Meg agreed. “It was a busy morning, wasn’t it? I just don’t have the stamina for shopping like I used to. I’ve noticed myself doing more shopping online. I used to enjoy going to the mall and wandering around to see what’s new. That doesn’t appeal to me now. I don’t even want to look for a parking place.”
“I’m the same way.” Jean stuck a forkful of cake in her mouth. She winked at Meg as she chewed. “It’s all so easy now. You don’t even have to put your shoes on to shop if you don’t want to. My mother wouldn’t believe it.”
“What are you going to wear for bridge tomorrow?” Meg asked.
“I brought one pair of long pants,” Jean said. “They’re white, and
I have a royal blue linen top I can wear with them. You think that’ll be okay?”
“Sounds lovely. I think I’ll wear my black jersey pants and that colorful tunic top. I have some turquoise sandals that go with it. Other than that, I only have shorts and crop pants. I don’t think they’ll run us out of town. We’ll look just fine.”
“Of course we will,” Jean giggled.
Meg walked onto the deck with her bag of yarn to crochet more bags and found Jean asleep with her book on her lap. The upper half of her body was in the shade, but her legs were exposed to the sun, the aroma of coconut sunscreen wafting across the deck. Gizmo was curled up under the lounger in the shade.
Crocheting mindlessly, sticking the hook into loops and following the pattern down a row to turn and repeat was easy and allowed Meg to consider the events of the day. She thought about the white car Jean spotted in the carport across the road. She hadn’t even glanced at the other houses, too busy trying to catch a glimpse of the allusive Leon. She had stared at the upper windows on the Charles house, almost daring him to appear. Her anger at Echo’s remarks had taken all of her attention heading to the pier.
The Charles house was the largest one in the defunct development. It was stucco and built two stories above the ground-level parking. There was an area under the house covered in louvered panels that was probably supposed to be a patio, but it had been used for storing lawnmowers, gas cans, grills, and other things that had been exposed to the elements and rusted. The corrosion and weathering of things left outside happened quickly. Meg saw that the Charles house had been neglected, and the once useful things left there were probably now beyond use. It was a waste. For her, it was symbolic of Echo’s inattentive attitude, a disregard for the need to care for things and maintain them, like maybe planning for electricity in a house or gasoline for a car. It made no sense and irritated Meg.
There’s something wrong with that woman. She couldn’t possibly be that dense.
While Jean napped, Meg had completed four more shopping bags. She gathered them up and took them inside.
Meg scooped three different salads on each dinner plate for an al fresco dinner. She arranged the chicken and fruit salads, garnished with cut celery, carrot, and zucchini. A basket lined with a cloth napkin held slices of the bread she purchased from the outdoor market. Meg mixed up a lemon and honey dressing for the fruit salad, then took the kitchen shears downstairs to cut herbs, dill and mint, for garnish.
Jean still slept, undisturbed by Meg opening the door to the deck and bouncing in bare feet down the stairs. As she rounded the house, she noticed a white car approaching the house. She bent to cut the herbs as the car arrived. When Meg looked up, she saw a single female figure driving. Echo parked and exited the car, giving an exaggerated wave, as if she and Meg were long-lost friends.
“Hello there,” Echo called out.
“Hey,” Meg said with less enthusiasm. “What can I do for you now?”
“Oh, I was just checking to see if you were still here. I couldn’t remember if you told me how long you’d be staying.”
“I’m still here. I’ll be here for a month or more. It depends on when my grandchild decides to enter the world.” Meg stared at Echo, smiling.
“Oh, I see. Well, Leon was wondering if that dinner invitation was still open.”
“You’re kidding?” Meg was stunned. “No it’s not. I don’t even have a good excuse to offer you other than it was a whim and now it’s gone.” She pursed her lips and shrugged.
“Hmm, I guess I’ll have to find some groceries, then.”
“I guess so. Did you get a new car?” Meg asked, looking past Echo to the car left running in the driveway.
“No, that’s a friend’s. My car is out of gas, so he let me borrow it.” The comment startled Meg, because she had just been thinking Echo didn’t plan for gasoline for a car and she had no idea where the thought came from.
“I see. Nice friend.”
“Yes, he’s real nice. Okay, well, have a good evening.” Echo waved her arm in the air as she turned and walked back toward the car. She wore the same cutoff shorts but a different tank top. This one said “I’m a F@#$ing Mermaid.”
“Okay, you, too.” Meg shook her head and watched until Echo was well down the road.
“Was that Echo?” Jean asked as Meg reached the top of the stairs.
“Yes, in all her glory. She wanted to know if the dinner invitation was still open. Can you believe the nerve?”
“Are you kidding? That was the same car I saw earlier,” Jean said.
“It was a Corvette. I looked at the emblem on the front. She said it belongs to a friend. He’s letting her use it because her car is out of gas.” Meg looked to Jean with raised brows.
“No, really?” Jean stood in front of Meg with her hands on her hips. “So when her car runs out of gas, she borrows a friend’s? That makes no sense.”
Jean followed Meg inside, holding the door for Gizmo. Meg went to the sink and washed the herbs she had cut, then placed them on a paper towel to dry. She turned back toward Jean, drying her hands on a dishcloth. “Something’s not right about her. I think she really had no reason for coming over here except to see if we were gone. My hunch was she intended to come inside and pilfer food or whatever she could find. I mean, the reason she gave is pretty silly. She might be aware of the protected garden area out there. Maybe she intended to pick a salad or something.”
“Very silly, especially after she was so rude yesterday. She’s an odd person, for sure.”
“How about a glass of wine?” Meg said. “I have some salads prepared for dinner when we’re ready to eat, but in the meantime, I think it’s the cocktail hour.”
“I second that recommendation. I’ll open that bottle I brought,” Jean offered.
They repeated their evening routine of eating on the deck and taking a walk on the beach after changing into their swimsuits. Gizmo lounged with LaRue on the deck while they chatted above the bubbles in the hot tub. Again, they observed the naked couple frolicking down the beach through the telescope.
Before going to bed, Jean laughed aloud.
“What are you laughing at?” Meg giggled.
“It just struck me as funny that I envisioned us gazing at the stars and naming the constellations with that telescope and all we’ve done is spy on nude people.”
Meg giggled louder. “We’re pretty shallow, aren’t we?”
“The shallowest!”
Nine
MEG AND JEAN sat on the deck in their pajamas the following morning until almost noon. Their only motivation for getting dressed was their lunch date with Linda’s bridge club. “I’m nervous about meeting new people,” Meg admitted.
“It’s one person. We’ve already met Linda, and there are only four players, so it’s just one person,” Jean pointed out.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I suppose I can meet one new person. I’ll have to adjust my attitude. You know the older I get, the fewer people I want to let in.” Meg hesitated to make the admission, but she and Jean had always been honest with each other. “I don’t mean I regret having friends. Of course I don’t. Old friends, like you, are so comfortable. Meeting new ones is uncomfortable. At least for me, anyway.” Meg sat in her favorite Adirondack with her bare feet up on the porch rail.
“I get it. I’m the same way. There’s less tolerance for people not already aware of your politics and beliefs,” Jean said. She was on the swing, her knees gathered inside her nightgown in an awkward cocoon.
“Maybe that’s it. I don’t want to have to explain myself to anyone. I don’t relish recalling my history, any of that stuff. I’m not running for anything.”
Jean laughed. “We’re lazy friends. If you want to be our cohorts, you might have to do all the work in the relationship.”
“Think about it, Jean. I know if I call you on a rainy afternoon and ask you to go out for Mexican food, you’ll tell me no if you’d rather sit in your pajamas watching Hall
mark movies.”
“Absolutely. And I know you might offer to bring me some cheese enchiladas and sit with me in front of the television and take tequila shots.” Jean watched Meg’s face for a reaction.
Meg looked up and rolled her eyes. “You had me until the tequila shots. A margarita maybe, but no shots.” She paused a beat. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but have you ever thought about dating or getting married again?”
“No,” Jean said without hesitation. “My attitude about that hasn’t changed. I miss Manny. I do. I liked having someone to travel with and share the house and our times with the grandkids. We were comfortable together, just like we said. Breaking in another husband would be more than I want to take on. I’m not up for ‘friends with benefits’ either,” Jean laughed. “I’m too set in my ways, and to tell you the truth, there are things I like about living alone.”
“Like what?” Meg asked.
“Like coming here, being free to change my routine and be impromptu and accept this invitation. A spouse would make me think twice or not come at all.”
“Well, I would’ve invited Manny,” Meg insisted. “He was always fun on a trip.”
“Yes, you probably would have. He would’ve enjoyed fishing and such while we prowled around. But if it was a new spouse, you wouldn’t have felt as comfortable about doing that. You and I both know that.”
“You’re right, I would’ve thought twice. I’m not looking for another marriage either. I can see why a man might seek out a wife, especially a man from our generation. If I could find a wife, maybe I’d consider it, too.”
They laughed. “What do you think our kids would think?” Jean said.
“About me having a wife?” Meg taunted.
“No, about remarriage? Do you think they’d be able to adjust to their mothers with another man?”
“They’d get used to it if it happened,” Meg said. “I’m pretty sure our children would want whatever makes us happy. The thing is, I just can’t see what could make me any happier than I already am.” She sighed. “You know, we better get ready. We’re meeting new people and have pretenses to maintain.”
Pelican Beach Murder Page 6