Death by the Sea

by Kathleen Bridge

  She took a last gulp of coffee and viewed a lone figure walking the beach. She stood and reached for the binoculars she used for spotting rare seabirds, a perk to having America’s first wildlife sanctuary, the Pelican Island National Wildlife Refuge, nearby. When Liz looked through the lens, though, she didn’t see a rare bird, just a drenched Ryan Stone. For a split second, he lifted his head. He wore the same pained expression she’d witnessed the previous night—as if he’d lost his best friend. Please don’t let it be Pops, she thought.

  It was strange that he would pick this stretch of shoreline for a melancholy stroll in a storm. Liz had one of Aunt Amelia’s urges to rescue him. She put on her rain slicker and waited until he was near the steps leading up to the beach house, then went out into the deluge.

  She called down, “Ahoy there!”

  Ryan didn’t hear her over the howling of the wind. She grabbed the wood railing and went down three steps. When he finally glanced in her direction, she pantomimed for him to come up to the house.

  He trudged up the steps and followed Liz onto the deck. Liz removed her raincoat and left it on the chaise. Ryan left his sandals outside the door as she ushered him inside.

  “I’ll go get you a towel,” Liz said. “Wait here.”

  When she returned, she handed him a large bath towel.

  “Thanks.” He stood there, dripping like a wet seal.

  “Take off your shirt and shorts. I’ll throw them in the dryer. Despite what you’ve read about me, I won’t take advantage of you.”

  Ryan remained still, not even offering a comeback. He took off his shirt, wrapped the towel around his waist, then discreetly slipped off his NYU-emblemed shorts.

  Her gaze lingered on his muscled upper right arm. What she thought was a tattoo from when she’d seen him at the caretaker’s cottage, turned out to be a purplish raised welt in the shape of a continent.

  He noticed her looking and said in an irritated tone, “I know, it looks like Africa or Australia. And before you ask, it’s not from a fire. Only a birthmark.”

  “Have a seat,” Liz said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d done to him what others had done to her when focusing on her scar too long. It was just that his appearance was so perfect. Not that the birthmark was ugly, just unusual.

  Liz threw Ryan’s wet clothing in the dryer and returned to the great room. She said, “Is everything okay with Pops?”

  He glanced up at her, a lock of wet hair falling across his right eye. “Granddad’s fine.”

  “Then what’s the reason for the glum posture? It’s not about me, is it?”

  “Not everything is about you, Elizabeth Holt.” Then he quickly added, “I’m sorry.” He stood and shuffled to the door.

  “What about your clothes?”

  “I have others.”

  As he reached for the doorknob, she put her hand on his. “It might help to talk. Even though you are a big jerk, we are still partners on Dad’s case.” His mouth made a slight upturn. “Sit. I’ll get some coffee and actually bring it to you.”

  He laughed. “Make sure to check the expiration date on the milk.”

  When she brought back the mug of coffee, he was looking through a book of Florida wildlife on her coffee table trunk. The inscription inside was to an eighteen-year-old Liz from Kate’s brother, Skylar, wishing her a lifetime of happiness in New York.

  Ryan closed the book and took the coffee. Liz sat on the chair across from the sofa.

  The wind and rain picked up, and all the windows were covered in an opaque film.

  After a few sips, he put down the mug. “You make a mean cup of coffee, Ms. Holt. Not as good as mine, of course.”

  The joking Ryan was back. Liz had learned from therapy that it was good to talk things out, but once you did, to leave them in the past where they belonged. She said, “Okay, spill. What’s up?”

  “One of the guys in my company is on life support.”

  “Oh my God, from a fire?”

  “No. That’s the kicker. A car accident. We all know the risks when it comes to fighting a fire, but we forget about the danger of going to the grocery store for some Pampers.”

  “Is there a chance he might pull through?”

  “Yes. There’s a chance.”

  “Then hold on to that.”

  Liz thought about Betty’s advice to bring Ryan into the loop about their inquiries into Regina’s murder. It might be a good distraction.

  She filled Ryan in about everything she and Betty had learned. After she told him about Captain Netherton’s disappearing, then reappearing limp, she asked if he had anyone back home who could look into the captain’s background.

  “I can do that. I know some people, and I have access to certain databases I use when investigating an arson.” Ryan seemed on board, even welcoming the extra assignment. “I think you and Betty should be careful, though. This isn’t a game. This is murder. I’m not one hundred percent sure that someone here was involved in the murder, but it can’t hurt to consider everyone who wasn’t with us as a suspect. I’ll do what I can. Do you have surveillance cameras at all the hotel exits?”

  “No. Only outside the revolving door of the lobby. The dumbwaiter in the hall next to my father’s apartment was slightly open the night of the murder. It would be the perfect way to exit the second floor with no one seeing you, then go out my father’s office to the back of the hotel. The limo driver was out front and the other emergency exit doors would set off an alarm. The kitchen and Dad’s office are the only doors that weren’t set on the alarm. Whoever killed Regina could have exited through my father’s apartment, knowing he was still at the emporium with the rest of us, then out through the office to the outside. And if that’s the case, I would say that Regina’s killer was someone who knew the hotel. There’s also the unlocked door in the kitchen, but I would think that whoever killed Regina wouldn’t take the chance of running into someone in the hotel’s kitchen.”

  “Did you tell Agent Pearson about this?”

  “No, but I mentioned it to my father. I’m sure he’ll pass it on.” She told him about the note Betty had pulled out of the trash that had been tied around the rock thrown at the Worths’ Bentley. “We took a photo of the note before giving it to the detective. Betty is trying to match the handwriting to someone at the Indialantic.” Then Liz filled Ryan in on the detective’s aspersions against Liz.

  “That’s ridiculous. Why would you do such a thing? Plus, you have an alibi.”

  Liz liked the new, on-her-side Ryan much better than the Ryan she’d been dealing with, but she wouldn’t let her guard down quite yet. Plus, he owed her a big apology for his past behavior. If he was any kind of investigator, he should search for the facts of what had really happened the night of the scar. Liz wasn’t going to tell him; it would only be a case of “he said, she said.”

  Ryan took a sip of coffee. “One of the things I find strange is why David Worth would want to come back to the hotel after what happened. He definitely needs to be looked into. Do you know how long he’d been married to Mrs. Worth?”

  “No, but Minna and Francie told me that following Regina’s death, Castlemara would go to the Barrier Island Historical Society and the jewelry from her father’s treasure dives to treasure museums. She wasn’t allowed to sell a piece—only to wear them.”

  “A lot to figure out, that’s for sure. I’d better get over to Deli-casies. I told Granddad to stay home because of the storm. I have to try to re-create a few of his salad recipes.”

  “I can come by and do a taste test for you.”

  “Sounds good. Kate said you’re a gourmet cook. I think you’ll find that I’m not too bad myself.”

  Liz smiled. “I was taught by the best. Pierre Montague.”

  “And I was taught by my grandparents, and my first chief at
the fire station.”

  “We’ll have a cook-off then. Best man or woman wins.”

  “You’re on. I think it should take place here. The kitchen at the caretaker’s cottage is lacking.”

  They both stood.

  Liz’s mind switched back to Regina’s murder. “Wait, before you go, I want to give you something.”

  She left him and stepped into the hallway, then inside her office and printed out another copy of the notes she’d taken about the murder. When she walked back into the room, he was standing at the door, towel and all.

  “Don’t you want your clothes?”

  “I’ll get them later. I’m sure they’re still wet. Or they will be again, once I step outside.”

  “Here are the notes I’ve taken so far,” she said, then handed them over.

  He looked perplexed on where to stow them.

  Liz laughed. “Let me get you a Ziploc bag.”

  She walked to the kitchen, got a bag, and brought it back.

  Ryan folded the pages in half, put them inside the plastic bag, then sealed it. “Did I inspire you to write everything down?”

  “No. Research is my forte. I had to do a lot of it for my novel.”

  “Let the Wind Roar,” he said as he opened the French doors and reached down to pick up his sandals. “I just read it. Good book.” Then he walked out, into the storm.

  Chapter 26

  After Ryan left, Liz phoned Betty and told her that he was on the case. Betty had placed a call to the makeup and hairstyle artists who had come to the Indialantic to get Regina ready for the Treasure Coast Ball, but hadn’t learned anything helpful to their investigation. Liz had forgotten about them. She also told Liz that she’d compared the photo of the note tied to the rock against Iris’s handwriting on the shopping list in the kitchen, and she didn’t think they were written by the same person. At the end of the conversation, Betty asked if she could get copies of the canceled rent checks for the emporium shops. Another great idea. Liz had access to the Indialantic’s online banking account.

  Because of the weather, Liz decided to take Betty’s baby-blue Caddy over to the emporium. She hadn’t needed a car in Manhattan, and barely needed one now, but in this monsoon of a morning, walking and golf-carting were definitely out of the question. Driving the half mile to the emporium reminded Liz of being out to sea in her father’s vintage forty-foot Chris-Craft motorboat, Serendipity, moored at the Indialantic’s dock. Earlier, Liz had received a text from her father that said he would be out on a case until late afternoon. She’d texted back, Good luck. Don’t text and drive!

  Liz parked in the emporium’s lot, noticing that the only cars there were Kate’s hippie van and Minna’s BMW. She decided against an umbrella; in this wind she might end up like Mary Poppins, floating into the air. She got out of the car and ran toward the emporium doors. Rogue palm fronds flew at her from every direction, scratching at her bare legs. She wrestled with one of the doors and finally tugged it open, then flew inside with the next big gust of wind and rain.

  Kate was standing in the entryway, watering a potted palm. She helped Liz push the massive door closed. “Look what the cat dragged in,” Kate said. “The cat!”

  Liz looked down and Bronte rubbed against her ankle.

  “You have a friend for life. When are you taking her home?”

  “I thought she belonged to the emporium! Your only chance to have the kitten you’ve always wanted?”

  “Well, if you took her to the beach house, I could visit. I’m afraid Brittany will do away with her, or at least leave a door open purposely so she gets out. That meanie found a single strand of Bronte’s hair on her black pants and went ballistic.”

  “I thought you said Bronte hides all the time.”

  “She does. She loves lying on top of the books in my bookcases. If it wasn’t for the white tip at the end of her tail, I don’t think I’d ever find her. She never comes out when there are customers. However, who knows what she does at night when no one’s around.”

  Liz took off her rain slicker and laid it on the bench under the window, then picked up Bronte. The kitten looked up and Liz almost melted onto the plank wood floor. “Stop being so adorable, Kitty.” Liz could barely take care of herself, let alone a pet. “I’ll think about it.” She put Bronte down and the kitten scurried away, but not before turning back and giving Liz a green-eyed, soulful look.

  The lights flickered and Liz held her breath until she remembered that, like the hotel, the emporium had an emergency generator installed by Aunt Amelia to protect Deli-casies by the Sea’s perishable food.

  Kate put the watering can on the floor and sat on the bench. “Come. Sit a spell. I want to know what happened when you talked to Iris’s mother. We couldn’t chat because of Aunt Amelia.”

  “Sorry, last night was crazy and so was this morning.” Liz filled her in on Greta Kimball and told her about Ryan’s morning visit.

  Kate said, “There haven’t been any customers. Only one person came in, the lucky winner of one of the raffles at Home Arts by the Sea. She was very inquisitive about Regina Harrington-Worth’s murder. Francie didn’t come in today. Minna said she’s not feeling well. She’s been in bed since Saturday night.”

  “Do you know what’s wrong?”

  “A stomach bug, Minna thinks.”

  The lights were on in Brittany’s shop, but she wasn’t inside. She had a new sign posted by the entrance: By Chance or Appointment.

  Kate noticed Liz looking at the sign. “I know. Isn’t it obnoxious? It doesn’t look good if one shop is closed for business when the other three are open.”

  “I’m going to tattle to Aunt Amelia, although my sunny great-aunt has a hard time when it comes to business confrontations, especially with Brittany Poole.”

  All of a sudden, they heard Nick Goren’s booming voice coming from the direction of Gold Coast by the Sea.

  “Let’s investigate,” Kate said to Liz.

  They tiptoed toward the voices, passing Minna in Home Arts and waving. The lights were on in Deli-casies by the Sea, but no one was up front. Liz assumed Ryan was back in the kitchen making salads.

  Kate ushered Liz into her shop and they both crouched down by the half wall and listened.

  “What right do you have to give your girlfriend of two minutes a piece of my estate jewelry? I want it back,” Edward said in a very calm, but loud voice.

  “You have tons of stuff. You won’t miss one little bracelet,” Nick said. “Come on, Brittany, let’s get out of here. Once again, my father treats me like a second-class citizen. I quit. Find some other minion to work for you.”

  “I’ll take the cost of that bracelet out of your wages.”

  “You have a showcase of jewelry. You’re just jealous you don’t have a love life.”

  Edward raised the decibel level. “I’m not giving you one thin red dime if you walk out. Your mother must be turning over in her grave.”

  They heard Brittany say, “Come on, pooh bear. You can stay with me until this all blows over.”

  “It won’t,” Nick said. “The damage has been done.”

  As they marched past Books & Browsery by the Sea, Liz poked her head up to get a look at the bracelet. It wasn’t anything spectacular, and it didn’t look like something belonging in a sunken treasure chest. As they walked away, she was almost positive that they were the two people she’d seen on the beach: the hulking, no-neck Nick and the diminutive Brittany.

  When they heard the front door slam, Liz and Kate stood up.

  “Should we go check on Edward?” Kate asked.

  “Uh, no. Not a good idea. Let him cool off.”

  “What do you think of the idea that Nick and Brittany killed Regina for the necklace and earrings?”

  “I certainly wouldn’t take them off the list, that’s for sure. Let’s go over to De
li-casies. I’m curious about Ryan’s cooking ability.”

  “Hey, missy. Do I feel a little wavering in your feelings for the guy?”

  “No. He’s still a jerk. But maybe not as big of a jerk as I thought before.”

  She grabbed Liz’s hand and gave her a very serious, unlike-Kate look. “Don’t you think if people knew everything that went down with you in New York, they might be more compassionate?”

  “I don’t want compassion. I can’t change what the papers or Travis say about me. I still haven’t told Aunt Amelia everything. She doesn’t judge me.”

  “Okay. All I’m saying is, if you want any kind of a future relationship, then you have to give the guy a chance by telling him what really happened.”

  “He’s from New York. I’m not going back there, so there’s no chance for a relationship with him, anyway.”

  When they walked into Deli-casies, Ryan was at the coffee bar staring down at a piece of paper. Kate sat on his right, Liz on his left.

  “Are you going to close up?” Kate asked. “There’s only been one customer all day.”

  “No, I’ll stick it out,” Ryan said. “I was just looking over a recipe of my granddad’s for conch salad. Where do you even buy conch?”

  Liz took the recipe out of his hands. “It looks yummy. Conch usually comes from Key West, known as the ‘Conch Republic’.”

  Ryan said, “Sorry, but I can’t imagine eating conch. The rubbery insides of a giant seashell that you hold to your ear to hear ocean waves? But I guess at that point they’ve vacated their shells. What’s the name for a group of conch? A school of conch?”