Murder on the Boardwalk

by Lee Strauss

“Rang what?’

  “I mean, I should’ve called first.”

  “Oh well, you’re here now.” Nancy placed a hand on the hip over her full skirt. “Why?”

  Rosa blinked at her bluntness. “I’ve come to apologize.”

  Nancy hummed. “That calls for a drink, I suppose. There’s iced tea in the fridge.”

  Rosa followed Nancy to the kitchen, and just like the last time, Nancy provided a little bowl of milk for Diego. Rosa somehow missed Nancy’s sleight of hand as she poured the iced tea, because her first sip was a shock.

  Nancy chuckled. “It’s a Long Island iced tea. The boys know not to touch Mommy’s tea.”

  Knowing what she was in for now, Rosa took another sip. “Thank you.”

  Nancy simply nodded and waited for Rosa to do what she’d come for.

  “I’m sorry I stopped writing to you, Nancy.”

  Nancy’s shoulders slumped, and her hand went to the lace collar at her neck. “You were my best pen pal. I thought we’d be writing to each other forever.”

  “Me too, but . . .”

  “What happened?” Nancy took a sip of her drink

  “It’s going to sound selfish and stupid.”

  Nancy smirked. “Hey, I’m married to Eddie Kline!”

  “Point taken. The last letter I wrote to Miguel came back return to sender.” She glanced up at Nancy and held her gaze. “You know how much I loved him, and my heart was broken so terribly when I thought he’d given up. Like I said, I was young and stupid and assumed the worst. The army probably had relocated him, and my mail didn’t get properly redirected.” Rosa paused and took another fortifying sip of tea.

  “Did you ask him about it?” Nancy asked.

  Rosa nearly choked on her tea. “No way. Water under the bridge, as they say. He’s got a new love.”

  “Why should that stop you?”

  “Nancy!”

  “I’m just saying. If this were an episode of As the World Turns, you’d be marching up to his door and confessing your unfailing love.”

  Rosa wasn’t the sort who’d knowingly break up the relationship of another couple, and this was her real life, not scripted entertainment!

  “If I marched up to his door to do anything, it would be to apologize, just like I’m trying to do now with you.”

  “Oh, right. Get on with it, then.”

  Outside, Rosa could hear one of the boys shouting, “Bang, bang, you’re dead!”

  Nancy rose and closed the window.

  “What I’m trying to say,” Rosa started, “was that when I stopped writing to Miguel, I found it hard to pen a normal letter to you. I had a wastebasket full of my attempts, believe me, but everything I wrote . . . well, the truth was so maudlin, and truthfully, my life was a bore. You were writing about your wedding and your new baby, and I was just pathetic.”

  “Oh, Rosa,” Nancy said. Her blue eyes flashed with sympathy. “Men—you can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.”

  Rosa inhaled deeply and forced a smile. “Anyway, I’m here now and ready to move forward.”

  “Are you going to tell me about Lord Winston Eveleigh?”

  The way she emphasized the word “Lord” made Rosa laugh. “Let’s save that for another day.”

  Nancy raised her glass.

  “And another glass of Mommy’s tea.”

  They tapped their glasses together in a small toast.

  Rosa broached the next item on her list. “How is Marjorie?”

  Tom and Pauline Van Peridon had been released on bail for charges of obstruction of justice and would likely pay a fine or serve a few days of community service.

  Henry Van Peridon, on the other hand, remained locked up in the local jail awaiting trial. The rubber sheath Rosa had discovered was covered with Victor’s prints, which confirmed it had come from the scene of the crime. The forensics team had found a partial print belonging to Henry on the control panel of the roller coaster as he’d done a poor job, with his limited time, of trying to rub them out. There were also prints on the rubber sheath, however, Henry hadn’t guessed that would be found.

  Shortly after Pauline’s encounter with Victor, she’d told Henry what she’d learned. Waiting until Pauline went home, Henry obtained tools he had stored in his car, and after waiting for a moment of opportunity, sabotaged the roller coaster, ensuring Victor Boyd’s electrocution and death.

  “She’s furious,” Nancy replied. “At Henry for being a murderer and not being able to marry her and make her the wife of someone with money and esteem, and at herself for being gullible. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me what she was thinking.”

  “Better she learn the truth about him now,” Rosa said.

  “That’s what I told her and it got me a pillow in the face.”

  Gloria was waiting for Rosa when she arrived at the Forrester mansion. “I forgot to give this to you this morning.” She handed Rosa a single envelope. “I hope it’s not important.”

  The envelope had a postage stamp with the image of the Queen on it. Rosa’s heart jumped at the prospect of getting a letter from her parents, but when she saw the handwriting, her heart sank.

  “What is it?” Gloria said. “You look pale.”

  “It’s nothing,” Rosa said, forcing cheer into her voice. She offered her satchel to her cousin. “Do you mind watching him for a little while?”

  Gloria happily took Diego, and Rosa headed upstairs to her room. Thankful for the Long Island iced tea still in her veins, Rosa sat at her desk, took a deep breath, and ripped the envelope with a letter opener.

  It was from Winston. Of course, he wouldn’t bother to ring her. She sighed. He probably feared she wouldn’t have accepted his call, and he was probably right.

  My dearest Rosa,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I’ll keep it short and to the point.

  I forgive you. Come home, and we’ll forget about this childish nonsense. You are my betrothed. Since large ceremonies obviously frighten you, we’ll keep it small. A little country church will suffice. I’ve found one in Charlton and have already confirmed a date next month with the vicar. No need to worry about the local gossips. The European Cup Final in Paris is all anyone can talk about now.

  I’ve included your return ticket.

  See you soon, darling,

  Yours, Winston

  A second look in the envelope did provide the ticket. How presumptuous! Rosa found a pad of paper in the desk along with a ballpoint pen. An idea had rattled in her head for a couple of days, but it wasn’t until she’d received this letter that she knew what she wanted to do.

  Dear Winston,

  Thank you for your letter, and I hope this one finds you well. Like you, I’ll get straight to the point. I’m afraid I must decline. I’ve decided I’m going to stay in California for an indeterminate amount of time.

  I can’t marry you. My returning to London at this point would make life too difficult for both of us. We must, each of us, move on with our lives.

  Please, once again, accept my sincerest apologies.

  Sincerely,

  Rosa

  After delivering her letter to Señora Gomez with instructions to add it to the outgoing mail, Rosa headed to Uncle Harold’s old office to use the telephone.

  Pleased to see that Aunt Louisa was absent, Rosa closed the door to ensure privacy. Checking her watch for the time, she saw that it was too late for her to ring London. She had something to tell her parents, but it would have to wait until the morning.

  Besides, she had another call to make.

  Feeling nervous, Rosa dialed the morgue before she lost her nerve.

  “Hello, Larry,” she said when Dr. Rayburn answered. “I hope you don’t mind that I called you. Are you still interested in going on a date?”

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  Eager to read the next book in the Rosa Reed Mystery series?

  Don’t miss MURDER AT THE BOMB SHELTER.

  Murder's a blast!

  Rosa Reed's holiday with the Forester Family in Santa Bonita has turned into an extended stay, and Rosa decides to make use of her Metropolitan Police training and sets up a private investigative business ~ just like her mother! But she finds she's not the only one who keeps business in the family, and when one of the members of the prestigious Gainer family is found dead in his bomb shelter, Rosa is invited to take on the case ~ much to Detective Miguel Belmonte's chagrin. If Rosa doesn't find the killer soon, the summer of '56 just might be her last.

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  Read on for a sneak peek.

  Did you read the PREQUEL?

  Rosa & Miguel’s Wartime Romance is a BONUS short story exclusively for Lee’s newsletter subscribers.

  How it All Began. . .

  Like many British children during World War Two, Rosa Reed’s parents, Ginger and Basil Reed, made the heart-wrenching decision to send their child to a foreign land and out of harm’s way. Fortunately, Ginger’s half-sister Louisa and her family, now settled in the quaint coastal town of Santa Bonita, California, were pleased to take her in.

  By the spring of 1945, Rosa Reed had almost made it through American High School unscathed, until the American army decided to station a base there. Until she met the handsome Private Miguel Belmonte and fell in love. . .

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  Rosa & Miguel’s Wartime Romance

  PREQUEL - excerpt

  Rosa Reed first laid eyes on Miguel Belmonte on the fourteenth day of February in 1945. She was a senior attending a high school dance, and he a soldier who played in the band.

  She’d been dancing with her date, Tom Hawkins, a short, stalky boy with pink skin and an outbreak of acne, but her gaze continued to latch onto the bronze-skinned singer, with dark crew-cut hair, looking very dapper in a black suit.

  In a life-changing moment, their eyes locked. Despite the fact that she stared at the singer over the shoulder of her date, she couldn’t help the bolt of electricity that shot through her, and when the singer smiled—and those dimples appeared—heavens, her knees almost gave out!

  “Rosa?”

  Tom’s worried voice brought her back to reality. “Are you okay? You went a little limp there. Do you feel faint? It is mighty hot in here.” Tom released Rosa’s hand to tug at his tie. “Do you want to get some air?”

  Rosa felt a surge of alarm. Invitations to step outside the gymnasium were often euphemisms to get fresh.

  In desperation she searched for her best friend Nancy Davidson—her best American friend, that was. Vivien Eveleigh claimed the position of best friend back in London, and Rosa missed her. Nancy made for a sufficient substitute. A pretty girl with honey-blond hair, Nancy, fortunately, was no longer dancing, and was sitting alone.

  “I think I’ll visit the ladies, Tom, if you don’t mind.”

  He looked momentarily put out, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He joined a group of lads—boys—at the punch table, and joined in with their raucous laughter. Rosa didn’t want to know what they were joking about, or at whose expense.

  Nancy understood Rosa’s plight as she wasn’t entirely pleased with her fellow either. “If only you and I could dance with each other.”

  “One can’t very well go to a dance without a date, though,” Rosa said.

  Nancy laughed. “One can’t.”

  Rosa rolled her eyes. Even after four years of living in America, her Englishness still manifested when she was distracted.

  And tonight’s distraction was the attractive lead singer in the band, and shockingly, he seemed to have sought her face out too.

  Nancy had seen the exchange and gave Rosa a firm nudge. “No way, José. I know he’s cute, but he’s from the wrong side of the tracks. Your aunt would have a conniption.”

  Nancy wasn’t wrong about that. Aunt Louisa had very high standards, as one who was lady of Forrester mansion, might.

  “I’m only looking!”

  Nancy harrumphed. “As long as it stays that way.”

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  Rosa & Miguel’s Wartime Romance is a BONUS short story exclusively for Lee’s newsletter subscribers.

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  Murder at the Bomb Shelter Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Rosa Reed peddled her Schwinn Deluxe Hollywood bicycle down the boulevard on another sunny Santa Bonita, California day. As she breathed in the sweet scent of sage and saline, she briskly rode down the slight incline toward Ron’s New and Used Cars. Over the last few weeks, she’d ridden by often, but today her heart fluttered with excitement as she approached the business establishment.

  Yesterday, while heading home from a short shopping trip with her kitten Diego—who rode in the front basket with his fuzzy face into the wind—she spied a new arrival on the car lot. She simply had to stop for a look. That polo-white, two-door 1953 Chevrolet Corvette Roadster convertible with red leather interior had gripped her imagination, and at that moment, Rosa fell in love.

  One of only three hundred made that year, the automobile, with its serial number of #76, was already considered a collector’s item. Rosa had slid into the red leather seat with Diego safely tucked into her satchel. When she’d revved the engine, the frame rumbled, and the powerful sound roared through the tailpipe, causing her to smile mischievously.

  With the top down, she’d test-driven the vehicle, riding north onto the Pacific Coast Highway—a warm August breeze mussing her short brown hair. She’d allowed herself a moment of thrill when she pressed harder on the accelerator. My mother would love this car! The thought made her laugh out loud as she thundered past the city limits sign, swirls of dust whipping in her disappearing wake.

  Upon returning to the lot, Rosa immediately phoned her Aunt Louisa, the matriarch of the Forrester mansion, to arrange for temporary financing until she could get the money wired from the London bank that held her trust fund.

  “I’m part of the Forrester family,” she’d told the dealer. “I’ll be back tomorrow if you’d be kind enough to hold it for me.”

  By the look of respect at the mention of the Forrester family name—and perhaps a little fear, after all, Aunt Louisa’s reputation in the town was formidable—the dealer promised to hold it.

  Now, as Rosa signed the papers for ownership and registration, anticipation rushed through her. The days that lay ahead of her! Her recent decision to stay in Santa Bonita and set up a private investigation office instead of returning to her job as a police officer in London was further cemented with the purchase of this car.

  “You don’t mind stowing my bicycle for a day or so . . .” Rosa said, her voice a lively lilt. “. . . until I can arrange for it to be picked up.”

  “Not at all, Miss Reed,” the dealer said with a firm handshake and a grin as sparkling as Santa Bonita bay.

  Minutes later, Diego safely ensconced in her large satchel, Rosa pointed the Corvette toward the business district. She’d remembered to bring a silk headscarf, the same pink color of her lipstick—her mother would approve—so her hair stayed neatly in place. A pair of gray-and-green Polaroid tortoise sunglasses sat on her nose, and she steered her new steed along the roadway with gloved hands.

  She congratulated herself for staying in the right-hand lane. Rosa had learned to drive in America during the war years when she’d been shipped out of London to the safety her Aunt Louisa had offered. Shifting her inclination to drive on the left was like riding a bike. Having a steering wheel on the left-hand side, rather than the right, helped with reorientation.

  Shortly afterward, Rosa parked her Corvette along the curb in front of an office. Now standing by the build
ing’s front door, she paused to admire her new car before stepping inside. Diego meowed softly from his spot inside a designer pink-and-yellow striped satchel that matched Rosa’s outfit. Her rose-and-yellow patterned swing dress had a row of large white buttons running down the bodice and a white patent leather belt accenting her narrow waist. She finished off the outfit with yellow heels, the ankle straps tied into dainty bows. Rosa had discarded her first ragged satchel bag, a temporary accessory used when the need was urgent, and had accumulated several new cat-carrying bags to replace it.

  Her second-floor office was the last door on the left down the wide, carpeted hallway that ran past several law firms and busy accounting businesses. A large window at the end of the hall overlooked the street below. Rosa stepped back to regard the freshly painted lettering on the frosted glass that made up the upper half of the oak door—Reed Investigations.

  A few days ago, when the sign painters had put the final touches on the lettering, she had snapped a picture of it to send to her parents. She knew they would burst with pride at the sight of her name on the door. Rosa had spent a large part of her youth working with her mother, Ginger Reed, at the office of Lady Gold Investigations and credited that time for her apparent aptitude for sleuthing. She’d also learned from her work as a female member of the London Metropolitan Police. As her father, Basil Reed, a superintendent at Scotland Yard, liked to say, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

  Rosa slid the key into the lock, opened the door, and gently put her satchel down on the blue-padded cushions of the teakwood, Danish-style sofa that served as reception area seating. Diego immediately jumped out to explore the room.