A Flair For Flip-Flops (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 5)

by Deborah Garner

  Sadie took a look at the headline: “Body Found on the Beach.” A short article followed. “They must have barely had time to slip this in before it hit the press.”

  “I imagine so,” Myrtle said, taking another gulp of her coffee.

  “Do they say who it was?” Sadie asked.

  Myrtle shook her head. “No. It says the identity is not yet confirmed and that it won’t be released to the public until notification of next of kin.”

  “That’s normal procedure,” Sadie pointed out.

  “Yes,” Myrtle agreed. “But it also mentions that Garrison Quinlan did not show up for a dinner engagement here last night. Which you and I already know.”

  Sadie sipped her drink and contemplated that. Naturally, the paper would drop hints to make the article catchy. It was what the media did. But she already suspected the deceased was the missing-in-action celebrity. Why else would he have not shown up when he was the guest of honor? It seemed the most likely explanation, unfortunately for all his adoring fans. And, needless to say, for him.

  “I’m very curious about this,” Myrtle said. She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on clasped hands. “I just can’t resist a good mystery.”

  Sadie’s eyebrows shot up. She’d recognized a kindred spirit in the woman from the start, but this confirmed it. “Exactly! I know the feeling well.”

  “Really?” Myrtle regarded Sadie with a new look of appreciation.

  “Oh yes!” Sadie exclaimed. “It has landed me in trouble more than once.”

  “Tell me about it!” Myrtle said, shaking her head. “I’ve even been a person of interest at times.”

  Sadie laughed, thinking about several similar situations she’d found herself in before.

  Sadie and Myrtle stopped talking as two younger women slid into seats at a table nearby. The newcomers appeared to be in their early twenties. Glittered manicures wrapped around sizable drinks that Sadie suspected were some sort of tall-half-caf-nonfat-soy-no-foam-latte something or others.

  “I just can’t believe it!” one of the women said. A blue streak of hair fell forward as she leaned toward her companion. “It’s all over Twitter!”

  “I refuse to believe it.” The other woman shook her head, wild black curls flying side to side as her nose ring reflected the ceiling lights. Sadie could hear the threat of tears in the woman’s voice. “I love him! He can’t be gone!”

  “I love him too!” A glittery finger wiped away a tear. “And to think we traveled all this way just to see him!”

  Sadie glanced at Myrtle, eyebrows raised. Not to mention the little detail that he might be dead…

  “Well, you can’t trust everything you read on Twitter.” The blue-haired woman blew across the opening of her to-go cup and then took a cautious sip.

  “You’re right,” her companion said. “Let’s check Facebook.” She set her drink down, picked her cell phone up off the table, touched the surface, and started scrolling.

  Sadie fought back the urge to laugh.

  As the conversation at the next table continued, Myrtle tapped Sadie’s hand and gestured toward the counter. Two of the men who’d been seated at their dinner table the night before had joined the line. “Look,” she whispered. “Rude guys if you ask me.”

  “No argument there,” Sadie agreed. “I wonder where the third one is.”

  “He may have checked out already,” Myrtle suggested.

  “Possibly,” Sadie said. “Or he might not even have been a guest here. Not everyone who attends an event stays overnight at the location.”

  Myrtle nodded. “True.”

  “On the other hand…” Sadie tilted her head, indicating a chair across the lobby. The third man from the trio was standing near a chair occupied by none other than James Chalinder. “Look over there.”

  As both Sadie and Myrtle watched, the rude dinner companion—companion being quite the exaggeration—pointed to a folded newspaper in the manager’s lap. Obviously done reading it, Chalinder offered it to the man, who tucked it under his arm and joined the other two men in the coffee line.

  “Seems everyone’s interested in the headlines this morning,” Myrtle said.

  “Can’t blame them for that,” Sadie said. “It was the first thing I looked for myself.”

  Raised voices floated across from another section of the lobby, and Sadie and Myrtle turned their attention toward the commotion. A suit-clad man with a name tag on was attempting to move a man holding a camera away from the front desk. The clerk behind the counter was motioning for the next person in line to step forward.

  “Hotel management has its work cut out today, I bet,” Myrtle said.

  Sadie nodded. Between the media and the celebrity’s fans, it was guaranteed to be a chaotic day.

  A buzz from Sadie’s cell phone indicated an incoming text. Glancing at the screen, she smiled. Detective Broussard. The New Orleans detective had become both a good friend and… dare she admit it… a romantic interest.

  Ms. Kramer.

  Detective Broussard.

  Sadie enjoyed the formal salutations they used before launching into more familiar language.

  I thought I’d check in to see how your trip is going. Broussard’s text sounded casual, but Sadie could read between the lines. He’d undoubtedly heard the news and heard the location. And she had told him where she’d be staying. Of course he’d connect the dots.

  Fine, Sadie texted back. A lovely hotel. A few interesting details.

  Like a dead celebrity? That kind of detail?

  Just as she suspected. Seems to be the prevailing theory, she responded.

  A theory is just a theory until there’s a positive ID.

  Sadie held the phone up so Myrtle could see the conversation. “A detective friend,” she whispered, realizing immediately how silly it was to lower her voice. A person texting obviously could not hear through the phone.

  Myrtle leaned forward and read the texts. She nodded enthusiastically as if being let in on inside information. After reading, she leaned back in her chair and took a sip of coffee.

  Turning the phone back toward herself, Sadie added a quick response. Of course, theory is just theory. But facts are there somewhere.

  Yes, for the police to find.

  Again, Sadie could read between the lines. This was Broussard’s polite way of telling her to stay out of it. Not that she intended to heed his subtle words of caution.

  Naturally. Sadie sent off the one-word text and glanced up at the ever-changing sounds of activity in the hotel lobby. This time she watched as two official-looking men approached the front desk.

  “Look,” Sadie said to Myrtle, nodding toward the officers. She followed with a quick text to Broussard. I think some detectives just arrived.

  May I ask a favor?

  Sadie could picture the smirk on Broussard’s face even several states away.

  Never hurts to ask, Sadie replied.

  Let them do their job.

  Sadie tapped one finger against her cheek, searching for a perfectly noncommittal response. As a favor to them?

  Yes. And as a favor to me.

  Sadie looked up from her phone and noticed the officers had started talking with a few people in the lobby. They may want to question me, Sadie typed.

  Why?

  Sadie sighed. Because I was there at the dinner.

  Really? I thought you were just going for vacation, not for a celebrity event.

  So did I. But there was an invitation in my check-in packet. She smiled and then added, I wasn’t about to turn away a free dinner.

  Understandable. I would have done the same.

  Sadie clucked her tongue in satisfaction, a gesture that caused Myrtle to raise her eyebrows. They exchanged smirks, at the same time noticing the detectives were headed in their direction, toward the coffee area in general. Noting that the younger women at the next table had already left, she and Myrtle were the likely targets.

  Gotta go, Sadie typed, a
nticipating an interruption. Will touch base later.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sadie ended the text exchange with Broussard and slipped her phone into her tote bag. She paused to pat Coco on the head before removing her hand. Sure enough, after speaking with the barista, presumably to explain their presence, the two men approached Sadie and Myrtle.

  “Good morning, ladies. Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?”

  The fortyish man who spoke was accompanied by a man at least a decade his junior.

  “Have a seat,” Myrtle offered, indicating two empty chairs at the table.

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” the older man said. “This won’t take long. I’m Detective Martin, and this is Detective Sloan. We’re speaking with any guests who happened to attend the dinner event here last night. Any chance you two were there?”

  “As a matter of fact, we were,” Sadie said. Whimsically, Sadie thought the combination of names might make a good business: Martin and Sloan. Perhaps they should consider starting a private PI agency.

  “Good,” the same officer said, clearly pleased with the answer. He pulled a pad of paper and pen from his pocket and prepared to take notes. “Were you sitting close to the front?”

  Sadie shook her head. “No. In fact, we were at the very back, the last table.”

  The detective looked visibly disappointed. “I see,” he said. “Did you happen to observe anything that might be of importance? Was anyone acting oddly?”

  “Yes,” Myrtle said abruptly. “Three very rude men sat at the table with us. Didn’t even introduce themselves. Hotshots, I guess.”

  “More like wannabe hotshots,” Sadie clarified, glancing at Myrtle. “Those are the ones who usually put on airs.” A yip from the tote followed as if Coco agreed with Sadie’s opinion.

  “Hollywood types,” the younger detective muttered.

  “Anything else?” Detective Martin asked. He cast a quick glance at Sadie’s bag.

  “Actually, yes,” Sadie said. “Even though we were at the back of the room, I could see the front table clearly, the one I assume was reserved for the guest of honor. The man who emceed the event sat at that table with an empty seat beside him.”

  “You say he emceed the event.” Detective Martin jotted down a note. “How did he seem when making announcements?”

  “Perfectly fine early on,” Sadie said.

  “Until that man came in and whispered something to him,” Myrtle added.

  Detective Martin frowned. “You could tell he whispered from that far away?”

  Sadie sat up a little straighter. “Well, he might have leaned forward, cupped his hand around the man’s ear, and then shouted.”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm, ma’am,” Detective Martin said.

  “My late husband and I had a dog that would do that,” Sadie said, turning her attention to Myrtle. “She’d sneak up to the bed in the morning, put her nose in one of our ears, and bark.”

  “Quite the alarm clock!” Myrtle exclaimed.

  “Indeed.” Sadie nodded.

  Both women turned back to face Detective Martin when he cleared his throat.

  “My impression,” Sadie said, assuming a more serious tone, “was that whatever the man said upset the emcee terribly. He was barely able to announce that the celebrity would not be able to make it.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “He rushed from the room,” Sadie said.

  “Do you have any idea who the man was that came into the room and whispered to him?”

  Sadie was delighted to hear a touch of sarcasm in Detective Martin’s question. Her estimation of him went up several notches. Unfortunately, she didn’t have an answer. “No.”

  “A description?”

  Sadie shook her head. “No, I wasn’t really paying attention until I saw the way the emcee reacted. By then, the other man had exited the side door.”

  “Clothing?”

  “Yes, of course!” Sadie said. She and Myrtle exchanged faux-shocked glances.

  “What kind of clothing was he wearing?” Detective Martin tapped his pen against the notepad.

  “Some sort of suit, like every other man there,” Sadie said.

  “Do you remember if he was wearing an outdoor jacket?” This came from the younger detective. Detective Martin gave him a look that Sadie took to be approval. Sadie approved too. It was a good question.

  “I don’t think so,” Sadie said. “But it’s summer. I don’t see why he’d have a jacket over his suit even if he came in from outside.”

  “It’s too warm for jackets,” Myrtle said.

  Detective Martin nodded. “I agree.” He directed the next question at Sadie. “Why did you say ‘even if he came in from outside’?”

  Sadie leaned forward, adopting a more serious tone. “To use an old cliché, isn’t there an elephant in the room that we’re stepping around? Let’s get to the point behind your questions. We all know a body washed up on the beach last night, and it’s most likely that of Garrison Quinlan. I’m in an oceanfront suite. Many of us ended up outside, standing on the sand, watching the commotion. It was quite a scene.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Detective Martin said. “I was there.” He scribbled another note and then looked up. “Do you recall anyone watching who didn’t seem to be one of the hotel guests? Someone alone, not interacting with others?”

  Sadie thought back to the night before, visualizing the crowds along the stretch of oceanfront rooms. The guests she’d met and talked to were certainly not standing back. And others nearby seemed to be gathered in clusters. “I don’t think so,” she said. “People were just trying to find out from each other what was going on.”

  “Are you saying this was a crime?” Myrtle piped up, her tone animated. She turned to Sadie. “You know criminals sometimes return to the scene of the crime. Why, just the other day on CSI—”

  Detective Martin cleared his throat again.

  “We’re simply investigating at this point,” the younger detective said.

  “Exactly,” Martin said. He clicked his pen and slid both the pen and the notebook into his pocket. “That’ll be all for now, ladies. Thank you for your cooperation.” The two detectives turned and walked away, scanning the lobby for any other potential sources of information.

  “What do you think?” Myrtle turned to Sadie, eyebrows raised.

  “I’m thinking foul play,” Sadie said. “Why else would they be questioning people? Then again, it could have been an accident.”

  Myrtle took a sip of coffee and drummed her fingers on the table. “You think he just decided to go swimming? Got caught in a riptide and drowned?”

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” Sadie said. “Still, it seems odd to me that he’d go swimming right before he had an engagement.”

  “We don’t know how long the body had been in the water,” Myrtle pointed out.

  “Good point,” Sadie said. “He might have gone out much earlier.”

  “How could we find that out?”

  “How, indeed,” Sadie said, echoing Myrtle’s question. “It’s too soon for those details to be in the morning paper.”

  “But maybe not online,” Myrtle suggested. “Those girls with the glittery fingernails said they’d read about it online. I wish I were more internet-savvy. I’d try to find out.”

  Sadie nodded. “I’m a little old-school when it comes to social media too. But I know someone who is up to speed: my assistant. I’ll call her now.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The phone rang four times before Amber picked up.

  “Busy morning?” Sadie asked, knowing her assistant was usually quick on the draw when it came to answering the boutique phone.

  “Not really,” Amber said. “We’ve had some customers browsing but no sales. I was just retrieving go-backs from the dressing room.”

  “Aha,” Sadie said. “Well, at least they’re looking.”

  “True,” Amber said. “An
d sometimes they’ll come back for things they’ve tried on. One woman really loved that fuzzy purple chenille sweater on the sale rack.” A clicking of hangers followed. Sadie knew by the sound that Amber was carrying the cordless phone around the shop while returning items to racks. “What’s up? Are things crazy at the hotel? Lots of activity? Any more news?”

  “Not really,” Sadie said. “Some detectives came by and asked questions but didn’t offer any information. We were hoping you could fill us in.”

  “We?” Amber asked.

  “Myrtle, a new friend,” Sadie explained. “Anything new you’ve read on the internet?”

  “Not really,” Amber said. “Just posts from people saying they love him, and some photos of candles, cards, and posters outside his Bel Air estate. But I was thinking…”

  “What?” Sadie glanced at Myrtle, whose eyes widened at the possibility of new information.

  “I don’t like to speculate,” Amber said, her voice hesitant. “But he’s been having all those personal problems lately. It could be… Oh, I hate to suggest it.”

  Sadie picked up on Amber’s thoughts quickly, wondering why she hadn’t considered the possibility herself. “You think he took his own life?”

  Amber choked up. “I don’t know.”

  “What personal problems?” Sadie had overlooked the fact that Amber kept up on the tabloids. Not that half of what was printed there was true, but a few tidbits probably were. And personal problems could lead to all kinds of situations. Like murder, for example…

  “Some sort of stalker situation,” Amber said. “He’d taken out a restraining order.”

  “A stalker situation,” Sadie repeated aloud so Myrtle could hear. “Well, that certainly isn’t good.”

  “No,” Amber said. “And there’s that paternity suit.”

  “Paternity suit,” Sadie echoed. “Also not good.”

  “Plus the bankruptcy rumors,” Amber continued.

  “Bankruptcy rumors…” Sadie was beginning to feel like a gossip even though she was only repeating the information Amber was giving her so that Myrtle could hear.