“You’re absolutely right, Meg.” Jean nodded. “We tend to forget when someone has reached adulthood that they might still be a child emotionally. Not everyone takes advantage of therapy or even realizes they need it.”
“This is weird because they’re probably as old as we are, but I have the same unsettled feeling about Linda and Rene,” Meg said.
“I’m with you there. They’re just older versions of the twins, or Echo. We must be living right. How’d we get so lucky, Meg, to be the poster children of sanity and maturity?”
“Speak for yourself. I might be mature, but I’m not so sure about the sanity part. For example, I’m too tired to look at naked people tonight or walk on the beach. What’s up with that?” Jean held her palms up into the air.
“I hear you. How about we sit in the hot tub with a glass of wine and call it passive exercise.”
“Perfect. I’m going to put my suit on. I think we should plan to spend the day on the beach tomorrow with a picnic.”
“Another brilliant idea. I hate to think about it, but I’ll have to pack up and leave early on Friday. The grandkids are coming to spend the week while their parents go on a cruise.”
Meg picked up Gizmo and snuggled him. “That’s pretty hard to compete with, me or three cute grandkids. They’ll love those souvenirs.”
Jean chuckled. “I’ve been so preoccupied with the drama, I forgot all about the treats in my trunk. You might have to call and remind me to check it when I get home.”
Meg’s phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Hey, this is Echo.”
Eleven
MEG LOOKED TOWARD Jean and pointed at the phone, mouthing, “Echo.”
“How’d you get my number, Echo?” Meg’s mind was swirling. She couldn’t imagine how Echo would have found her number.
“Oh, I guess that’s a good question. Modern technology is amazing. It’s a long story, but your number is readily available. I’ll just get to the reason for my call. Leon left. He’s gone, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back. The generator has stopped working, and there’s no more gasoline. I was wondering if I could borrow a few gallons?”
Meg stood and paced on the deck. She was stunned at Echo’s question, not sure how to respond. There had been a premonition about Echo and gasoline. “No, I don’t have spare gasoline. There’s none for you to borrow. It’s all in my car.”
“You sure there’s not a lawn mower or something there with gasoline? Could you check the garage? Maybe we could syphon some from your car,” Echo continued.
“No, I’m not checking. If there is any in the garage, it’s not mine. It belongs to the owner of the house.” Meg started to say more, but she decided she didn’t need to explain her answer.
“Hm, okay. Thanks anyway.” Echo hung up.
“That was the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with anyone on the phone,” Meg said. “And I’ve had some strange conversations.”
“What’d she want?” Jean asked.
“She wanted gasoline for the generator. She said Leon was gone, and there was no more gasoline. I’m still wondering how she got my cell phone number.”
“There would be no reason for her to have that, would there? Unless Tony’s there and he got it from Linda.”
“Geez, that would be unsettling, wouldn’t it? I hadn’t thought of that. Doesn’t make sense though. Why wouldn’t Tony buy her some gasoline?” Meg continued to pace. “Maybe when she borrowed my phone the other night, she called Leon and my number would be on his phone, but the reason she borrowed my phone was because their phones were dead. It has to be Tony’s phone or Linda’s. I haven’t called anyone else.”
“It’s a little spooky, isn’t it?” Jean said. “Check your outgoing calls, Meg. Make a note of the numbers, or call them back.”
“You’re right.” Meg looked at the outgoing call made the night Echo borrowed her phone. There were actually two. One of the numbers matched the one Echo just called from. “That’s it. Now the only question is who belongs to this number.”
“My bet is Tony.” Jean smirked. “If Leon’s gone, who was the other person on the beach earlier?”
“That’s a good question. The phone number could be anyone she knows. I guess Tony’s the only person we know who she knows.”
“You worried?”
“No, not really. I’ll take the bags to the market in the morning like everything’s okay, but it’s just weird. I think that might be my last batch for Tony.”
Jean grimaced. “But you bought all that cord and had such big plans.”
“Yeah, I’ll play it by ear. I’d miss the bread, too.”
Jean giggled. “That sounded like you were talking slang for money, but it just hit me that you mean the challah and the rolls. Yeah, don’t cut your ties to that great-tasting bread.”
Meg laughed aloud. “I’ll miss the bread? I get it.”
Later that evening, on the deck, Meg watched two people run on the beach and dive in the water while Jean showered.
The following morning, Meg took a batch of bags to the Jamaica Beach Market early, before shoppers arrived. She made the excuse of needing to get home to her guest, to leave quickly. Meg had no desire to dally and make conversation with Tony and Linda. She avoided making a commitment to future bridge games when Linda mentioned it. She seemed herself and friendly, but Tony seemed hungover and avoided eye contact. He wasn’t the friendly guy who’d encouraged Meg to sell him the market bags.
“Can we pay you later? We’re short on cash for change, but we should have enough in sales by noon to pay you in cash,” Tony said.
“No worries,” Meg assured. “I know where to find you. Don’t worry about it.”
When she was back at the beach cottage, Meg and Jean had a second cup of coffee and planned their picnic. Meg made sandwiches from the last of the shrimp salad and challah bread, then packed two large plastic storage bags with chips, sandwiches, and slices of cake. Her market bag was stuffed with beach towels, sunscreen, and bottles of water. They put on their swimsuits and took the beach chairs from the storage closet.
Jean carried the chairs and Meg hoisted her bag over her shoulder, carrying a bag of sand toys and a kite. They planned to entertain themselves on the beach as if Jean’s grandchildren were with them. They found the perfect spot, void of sharp shells and seaweed, to set up the chairs and slather sunscreen on their bodies.
“This is perfect,” Jean announced. “Just like I imagined. Since we have that sand bucket, I’m going to pick up some smaller pieces of driftwood. I can use that in a craft project with the grands while they’re visiting.”
“That’s perfect. You might find some sea glass. I think it’s rare, but you can be on the lookout.”
Jean strolled down the beach with Gizmo and a sand bucket while Meg relaxed in a beach chair. It was almost noon. She thought about the sandwich packed in the chair pocket. She was tempted to eat half while Jean was down the beach, but she talked herself out of it.
Meg would miss Jean when she left the following morning. Tom Richards had called when she was driving back from the Jamaica Beach Market. She’d chatted with him over the Bluetooth, assuring him the cottage was perfect. He planned to visit a Houston field office and wanted to drive to the island for a visit.
“Great,” she’d told him. “If you can be here for lunch, I’ll make some fresh shrimp salad and we can eat on the deck. Please do plan on that, Tom, if the timing is good for you.”
“I think that sounds perfect. It’ll be Monday or Tuesday. I’m still waiting to hear.”
Tom’s visit gave Meg something to look forward to. She would have an excuse to shop for fresh seafood and flowers. She had more company at the beach cottage than she had at her own house. There were no complaints though. She was enjoying the entertaining, and she was looking forward to visiting with Tom. She wanted to find out the latest news on the pleadings in Lena Hillard’s murder.
Meg fel
l asleep, but when a shadow moved over her face, it caused her to open her eyes. The sun was blinding and she could only see a silhouette. She thought at first it must be Jean, but then she heard Linda’s voice.
“I thought you might be down here. This looks relaxing.”
“Oh, hey, Linda. I must’ve dozed a bit. I didn’t hear you walk up,” Meg said, sitting up and putting on her glasses. “Have a seat. Jean’s gone walking down the beach.”
“I called, but I got your voice mail a few times. I was actually calling from Tony’s phone trying to figure out who the number belonged to.” Linda took a seat in Jean’s chair.
“Oh, I must’ve left my phone upstairs. I’m always in trouble with my daughter for either not having my phone with me or letting the battery run out. I’m sorry you had to come all the way down here. You didn’t have to.”
“It was more curiosity than anything else. I couldn’t figure out why Tony would’ve called you. And I have the money for the bags. It was a chance to talk to you without Tony listening.”
“I appreciate you bringing the money, but you really didn’t have to do it today,” Meg said. She shook her head, looking at Linda. “I don’t think Tony has ever called me. The only number I have for you two is yours.”
Linda gave Meg an envelope with the payment for the bags inside and an invoice. “That’s strange, because when I call the outgoing number on his phone, I get your voice mail.”
Meg shrugged. “That’s weird. Makes no sense to me.”
“Someone said they thought they saw his car parked right over there behind the dunes when he was supposed to be in Colorado the past few days.”
“Why would his car be there?” Meg asked, trying to act surprised.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Linda sighed.
“Do you trust Tony?” Meg decided to just ask the question and get everything out in the open.
“Not really. I know you think we’re married, but we’re not. We just live together sometimes. It’s an off-and-on thing. He drinks. He’s just had a long run of sobriety, but he recently started up again. It’s miserable when he’s drinking. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stick it out this time.”
“You have to do what’s best for you. If you don’t trust him and the drinking is a problem, don’t set your feelings aside. Take care of yourself.” She took her sunglasses off and looked directly at Linda. “I don’t know you that well, but I know you deserve better than to live like that.” Meg meant what she said, but she knew Linda also had an issue with alcohol. She’d observed it when they played bridge.
“I know you’re right,” Linda said, glancing down at her painted fingernails. “I’m sorry to bother your nap. I’ll just leave that with you and be on my way.”
“No bother. I appreciate you bringing this to me. It’s not my business, Linda, but I had a strange phone call last night from Echo. I don’t know how she got my number. I let her borrow my phone for a call the other day when her phone was dead because there was no electricity over there at the Charles place. I don’t know who she called, and I don’t want to know.” Meg stared at Linda, hoping she might make the connection to Tony’s phone, but she couldn’t tell if the other woman understood what she was saying.
“Thanks for the chat. Tell Jean I said hello. I have to get back to the market.” Linda stood and brushed the sand from her legs. “Y’all have a good day.”
Meg watched Linda walk away. She felt sorry for her, knowing Linda was troubled by Tony’s drinking and suspicions about him. She wished Rene could have been a better friend and told Linda the truth. At least she could be moving on with her own life and not ruminating about the what-ifs.
Jean returned with Gizmo, and they ate their picnic lunch as Meg filled her in on her conversation with Linda. Then they flew the kite, something Meg hadn’t done in ages. A short while later, they were ready for a dip in the hot tub after packing up the chairs and trudging back to the house through the loose sand.
Jean gave Gizmo a thorough washing in the outdoor shower before sending him up the stairs to lie in the sun on the deck. Meg brought two glasses of sangria down to the hot tub. “I know it’s not time yet, but I’m in need of a diversion with all the drama of my neighbors, so I’m breaking the cocktail rule. Are you with me or agin’ me?”
“I’m always with you,” Jean laughed.
Twelve
IT WAS THE end of Jean’s visit, the morning she left, that would be the most memorable, the most haunting.
They had leftover chicken and spaghetti for dinner the night before on the deck. Meg claimed it was better than the first serving. “There’s something about a casserole doing time in the fridge. They just get better,” she noted. The evening had been relaxed and pleasant as they shared sangria.
“I agree. Manny never liked casseroles,” Jean said. “He wanted his meat clearly defined on his plate, and he didn’t want a potato or vegetable to touch it until they were in his stomach. I never understood that. There were times I thought he might’ve made it up to make my life more difficult.”
“Not Manny. He was such a sweet man,” Meg cooed.
“Yes he was, which was why I started getting paranoid when he waged war against casseroles in the late ’70s. He wouldn’t eat pizza either. The kids and I had to sneak it when he was away or maybe for lunch. Sometimes I eat a candy bar for dinner, wave it in the air, and talk to Manny about it.”
“I do the same thing. Not talk to Manny, but the candy bar deal. There’s something liberating about not dirtying any pots and pans. However, I’m filled with regret about the vacant calories.” Meg pushed her empty plate away from her. “Speaking of vacant calories, how about a piece of cake?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Jean clapped her hands together. “Do you ever talk to Paul?”
“All the time.” Meg nodded. “Sometimes I think it’s just a way to hear my own thoughts out loud. You know, to see if they’re making any sense.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Meg had been slightly sunburned and moving in slow motion as a result of glasses of sangria. “I’m not drinking any more of that concoction,” Jean announced. “I want to get an early start tomorrow so I can avoid the traffic. I’m planning to leave before daybreak. No need for you to get up. I know how to make myself a cup of coffee. I’ll load the car tonight and slip out in the morning.”
“I’ll miss you. This visit has been great. We need to do this more often.”
“I agree. Gizmo enjoyed it, too.”
“We didn’t do everything I planned, like doing yoga on the beach,” Meg said. “I think if you get proficient, they actually move you out into the water on paddleboards.”
Jean laughed. “You and I both know I could stay another month and that wouldn’t happen.”
After enjoying dessert and cleaning the kitchen, Meg had helped Jean load Gizmo’s kennel and most of her bags in her car. “LaRue and I will have to get used to being on our own again. Did I mention Tom Richards will be dropping by for lunch next week?”
“No, what brings him down?” Jean asked.
“He’s coming to the Houston field office for some reason and will be flying out of Hobby late in the day. He’ll have just enough time for a quick visit.”
“Tell him I said hello. I think highly of him and missed seeing him after he resigned from the foundation. His trips into town are so short and we never get to see each other. He’s always holed up with the DA.”
“He leads a busy life. Always on the go. Crawford told me he lost a partner a couple of years ago, and he’s thrown himself into work. I bet he was anticipating this beach getaway before the plans changed.” Meg glanced around the cottage. She looked forward to entertaining Tom there.
“That reminds me. I’m going to write in the guest book.” Jean headed to the coffee table and picked up the pen beside the small book. When she was done writing, she lingered at the door, gazing out toward the beach. “It’s time for the nude swimmers, b
ut I don’t see anyone.”
“You’re right.” Meg opened the door and stepped onto the deck. “We need to pack the telescope, Jean. I forgot about it.”
“Oh no, I intended for you to have that. I would’ve taken it to the charity drop-off otherwise. Keep it here. You may actually look at the constellations,” Jean laughed and took a seat on the deck. “Wait, did you hear that?”
“What?” Meg asked.
“I’m not sure.” Jean twisted in the chair and turned her head toward the water. “It sounded like a mouse caught in a trap, but far away. I could’ve sworn it came from down there.” She pointed to the dunes. “I’ve heard that before.
They sat on the deck for another forty-five minutes, but the swimmers never appeared. “Maybe they’ve literally run out of gas,” Meg joked.
The following morning, Meg heard Jean stirring in the kitchen and got out of bed to see her off. She walked her friend to her car as light was just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon. They hugged as Gizmo watched from the back seat.
Meg waved from the bottom step of the stairs as Jean backed up and turned to head down the narrow drive to the road that would take her to Seawall Boulevard. It made Meg sad to see her drive away, but she would have fond memories and a few pictures of her stay.
Heading up the stairs to the deck, Meg knew she probably wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. She went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee, then took her laptop out to check her email. She had been too occupied during Jean’s visit to even open her computer.
Most of her time was spent deleting unopened mail. The sun was just above the horizon by the time Meg was ready for her second cup of coffee and a walk on the beach. She changed to shorts and a T-shirt and headed down the stairs with her mug in hand.
As Meg walked, she noticed the group of yoga participants was gathered on the beach in a small group. Then she noticed a vehicle with emergency lights spinning just behind a sand dune. Meg continued to walk, wondering if one of them might have been injured. As she approached, she saw a black plastic cover over something on the beach. The group noticed her, and one of them pointed and started running toward her.
Pelican Beach Murder Page 8