Murder Beach

by Rena Leith

As I closed the fridge door and turned, I saw her, reflected in a silvering mirror. She sat on the arm of the couch. Bobbed hair. Cloche hat. Rayon stockings rolled to her knees.

  I turned quickly.

  Nothing.

  I looked back at the mirror and saw the distorted image of a woman. I tilted my head and realized that it was the reflection of a sepia-toned, framed photo hanging over the couch. The glass was rounded like half a bubble, which gave the picture some dimensionality that I must have mistaken for a physical woman. The words “or a ghost” echoed in my head. My neighbor was getting to me.

  “It’s time to call it a day,” I said to no one in particular. I turned off the lights, made sure that the windows and doors were closed, and headed for my car. I hadn’t lived alone in a very long time.

  For thirteen years I’d depended on Phil for my sense of safety and wellbeing. I guess I was more shaken than I thought by the prospect of being entirely responsible for myself. I was experiencing new feelings: independence, fear, but also joy and lightness at not being answerable to another person. But I needed to get a grip.

  In retrospect, I’m surprised I made it out of there without serious injury. I normally don’t believe in ghosts by the light of day, but it was getting on to twilight. I kept telling myself that I hadn’t seen anything but an illusion; however, I found myself hurrying to get to the car. I dropped my keys, stepped on my own hand picking them up, but finally got into my car. I locked the door and didn’t hit anything as I tore off down the road on instinct until I found the B&B at the end of the road.

  Moon Coast Inn. Light streamed from welcoming windows as I pulled into the lot next to the inn. By the time I got there, I’d worked myself up. I must have looked like a madwoman, disheveled and wild-eyed, as I charged through the front door.

  A round button of a woman with sea-blue eyes and a bubble of white hair looked up from a computer screen. “Hi.”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out because I felt like a complete idiot. I had allowed an atmospheric tale told by a master storyteller to spook me, and I’d run away like a child. So much for having control of my primal brain. “Uh. Hi.”

  I looked around at the completely normal, well-lit surroundings. The parlor was decorated in sandy beiges and browns, grassy greens, and watery blues. Perfect for the inn’s location just off the beach. Warm, indirect lighting illuminated nature photographs and woven wall hangings in sunset colors.

  “May I help you?” She smiled and gave me her full attention.

  “This is really nice.”

  “Thank you. Are you in need of help or a room?”

  “Oh, um, a room.” I hadn’t checked for a vacancy sign. “Do you have any available?”

  This time she laughed, and it was a lovely, tinkling sound.

  I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

  “Do you have luggage?”

  I remembered my suitcase. “Actually, yes, I do.”

  She pursed her lips slightly but not unkindly. “Very good. We have two rooms available. The Iris room, which is large with a private bathroom, and the Audubon, which has a lovely whirlpool tub.”

  Her unspoken words echoed in my head: which you appear to need.

  She cocked her head. “The Audubon also has a balcony with a lovely view of the ocean, but it’s on the second floor.”

  “I’ll take it!”

  Again, the laugh. “As we’re not full, we have a special running. One night, $125.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe it given that this was high season. I’d expected a price that started with a two at the very least.

  “It’s mid-week, and we’re slow. Usually, the price is higher, and there’s a two-night mid-week or three-night weekend requirement, but as I said, we’re slow right now and I’d rather rent the room.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  She pushed a card and a pen across the table toward me. “Would you please fill this out? Do you want to use a credit card? Cash?”

  I picked up the pen, filled out the card, and then pulled a Visa out of my pocket and handed it to her.

  She ran it and returned it to me. Picking up the card I’d just filled out, she read, “Cassandra Peake.”

  “Call me Cass.”

  “Cass. Nice to have you staying with us.” She held out her hand. “I’m Natalie Sandoval. Do you need help with your luggage?”

  “Oh, no, it’s just one suitcase.”

  She nodded. “Here’s the key to your room and one to the front door. Room’s at the top of the stairs. The door is labeled. This time of year there’re two breakfast seatings: one at 7 and one at 8:30 am. Follow me.”

  Natalie led me through to a dining room with half a dozen tables and a fireplace. “Although there are only two rooms available, there are four of you here tonight. Two other rooms are undergoing some renovation to be ready for Labor Day when I have a full house.” She walked back out to the base of the stairs. “There’s a small refrigerator in your room that contains some complimentary bottled water. There’s a one-cup coffee maker in the dining room. It makes coffee, tea, hot apple cider, or hot chocolate. I can show you how to use it if you’ve never used one before. There’s an ice machine, and there are also packets of shortbread. Is there anything else you need?”

  “I can’t think of a thing. I’ll, uh…” I pointed over my shoulder. “Just go get my bag.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned back to her computer.

  When I came back in, Natalie wasn’t there, so I went up to my room, which smelled of lilacs. I set the suitcase on the luggage rack and walked out onto the balcony. It was freezing, but the view of the ocean was spectacular with the full moon glistening off the waves. I shivered and went back inside to draw a bath and have a good, long soak. I was already feeling foolish. I should have realized that the cottage was filthy and unfit for human habitation and thought ahead to booking a room. Jack and Gillian would arrive before noon, and I could go home.

  Home. That sounded so nice.

  I slept like a tired child, completely secure and safe. The susurration of the waves had lulled me to sleep quickly. I awoke hungry and a little blurry but rested. As I stretched, I felt as though I belonged here in this room. It was so familiar as though this were the room I grew up in. Rolling over, I started to go back to sleep as a delicious drowsiness settled over me. Then I remembered what the day held and shook off my happy lethargy.

  It was a moment’s effort to pack and head down to breakfast. Over frittata and fruit, I realized that by the light of day I didn’t believe in ghosts. Night might prove to be something else, but I symbolically dusted my hands off as I stood up to go.

  Natalie appeared next to me. “Would you like your receipt sent to your phone or an email address or do you prefer paper?”

  “Phone’s fine. Let’s save a tree.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I’ll send you a coupon for 10% off on your second visit.”

  “I’m hoping to have my house ready to go today.”

  She patted me on the shoulder. “I know, dear. But I’m familiar with that cottage, and I suspect that it has, well, issues that you haven’t thought about yet.”

  “Thank you.” I think. “I appreciate the thought, and I’ll keep it in mind. But if you mean the ghost, I’ve already been warned.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I imagine you have. This is a very small town.”

  I wanted to ask her what she meant, but I bit my tongue. I owned that cottage, and although I might be behaving like an ostrich, I couldn’t change my mind and there was only so much that I was strong enough to know right now. “This is a lovely B&B.”

  I carried my suitcase out to the car.

  She followed me out. “You come back anytime. We’ll have coffee on the veranda, and I’ll be happy to tell you what I know about your cottage.”

  I drove home at a much slower pace, thinking about what she’d implied. I would want to know the history of my cottage eventually, but to
day I had to focus on getting the place sufficiently cleaned up for Jack and Gillian. I could only deal with so much at one time, and I was still processing the radical turn my life had taken.

  On the way home, I stopped off for groceries and a case of bottled water—just in case. I added a mental note to my ‘to do’ list to test my own water.

  When I pulled into the driveway, Jack’s car wasn’t there yet. Although he hadn’t called and I really hadn’t expected them to arrive yet, I balked at going back inside alone. Echoes of last night. I shook it off and propped the outside door open as I carried things inside. Then I left it propped open as I began cleaning. Given that we all would have to eat and sit to rest, I kept working on the kitchen to get it as clean as possible. I’d only hit the surface yesterday.

  I threw open the windows and the back door that led out onto the beach and let the cross-ventilation air the whole place out. I briefly considered that I was letting bugs in, but then it occurred to me that perhaps some of the small inhabitants of the cottage might take this opportunity to find a new place to live.

  Soon the joy of discovery diverted my attention from squeamish concerns to the thrill of finding half a dozen beautiful china cups with matching saucers and four cut glass goblets. I set them aside for careful hand washing and made a note on my growing list to talk to the plumber about a dishwasher and garbage disposal unit.

  Eager to see what other treasures the kitchen might hold, I put the stepladder in the pantry and climbed up to see what was on the top shelves. The single bulb cast a pale orange glow. Note to self: contact electrician today and buy light bulbs. I switched on my flashlight and swept it over the cans, jars, and crockery. Most of the cans and jars would have to go.

  The crash from the living room scared the bejeezus out of me. I spun on the top of the stepladder, lost my footing, dropped the flashlight, and fell against the shelving, some of which accompanied me down to the floor where I landed unceremoniously on top of the case of bottled water.

  Footsteps echoed across the kitchen and I tried to scramble up to meet the ghost head on.

  “Cass?” a familiar voice called.

  “Jack! Thank heavens. In here.”

  He appeared in the door and, for a shocked moment, just stood there.

  “Can you give me a hand?” I said in exasperation as I scrabbled for purchase amidst the detritus and tried to get my legs under me.

  “Oh, sure.” He reached down for my hand and pulled me to my feet.

  I stood and dusted myself off, raising quite a little cloud. “Sorry. I was wedged in there.”

  “Anything broken? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “What? And confess my clumsiness? No way. I’m fine.”

  “You’ll have bruises.” Gillian came up behind him. “You should have waited for us.”

  “Actually, I thought you were someone…something else.”

  “Huh?” Jack said.

  I exhaled. “Nothing.” I swear the air vibrated as if my ghost laughed. “It’s great that you’re here.”

  “How hard did you hit your head?” Jack reached for me, frowning. “You were expecting us, yes?”

  I dodged back. “I’m fine.”

  Gillian swept a finger over a shelf and stared at the results. “You stayed here last night?”

  “No, although that was the plan. I stayed at a B&B.” I told them about the conversation with the owner offering me a discount as if she were sure I’d be back.

  Jack looked around. “We might all want to consider the B&B tonight or a motel. I don’t think this place will be livable by then. There’s a lot to do before we even get your things out of storage.”

  “You might want to consider an exterminator,” Gillian said, wrinkling her nose.

  “The place was inspected. No termites or other noticeable vermin. Nothing alive… That they found, anyway. We do have to wash all the dishes, which is why I bought a bunch of disposable plates, cups, and plastic flatware.”

  “Does the fridge work?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, but it looks cranky to me. I think I need to get a plumber and an electrician in here. The guy who did the inspection rated the place poor in a number of areas but said the foundation was sound, and he thought it was a great buy despite the rumors.”

  “Rumors?” Jack got a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Keeps things cold at least, but you’re in serious need of beer.”

  We all heard a scratching sound from the second floor.

  “Nothing alive?” Jack asked. “Or are those the ‘rumors’?”

  “Okay, so I have a feeling that there’s something here. Mice, maybe. And maybe they’re the source of the rumors.”

  “Maybe you should consider a fumigation tenting?” Gillian asked.

  “I think I’d feel better with a dog,” I said.

  Jack and Gillian exchanged a glance.

  Jack asked, “How about a cat? Works better with mice.”

  I shrugged. “Might work. I don’t know much about cats, but I hear they kill pests.”

  “Have we got a cat for you!”

  Chapter 2

  “Seriously? You have a cat? I thought your little rent-controlled love shack over in Berkeley didn’t allow pets.”

  “Yeah, well, therein lies the problem.” They exchanged a glance. “Cass, it’s you or the pound.”

  “And this suddenly came up because…?”

  “Thor started out as the cutest little puffball of black fur and amber eyes. Very small, sweet, easy to conceal. I used to carry him around inside my bomber jacket.”

  Gillian covered a laugh with a cough.

  Jack pursed his lips. “Now there’s no hiding a 23-pound part Maine Coon with ‘catitude.’”

  “It’s lose the cat or give up rent control. Guess which we’re giving up,” Gillian linked her arm in his.

  I shook my head. “But 23 pounds! That’s bigger than a lot of dogs.”

  “No rat in its right mind would stick around.”

  “Good point.” Would a ghost?

  “Tell you what.” Jack looked around. “It’s pretty obvious that we won’t get far enough along to sleep here tonight. I think we’ll need a junk pickup before we can even get part of your stuff out of your storage locker and in here. So Gillian and I will work here all day but go sleep at home and come back with Thor and breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  “It’s a long drive!” I protested, not wanting them to leave.

  “But once Thor arrives, you won’t have to worry about whatever that noise is,” Gillian said.

  “Another good point,” I added, raising an index finger.

  “Seriously, it’s not that bad a drive,” Jack said. “And I’d rather spend the money on a good breakfast than a motel.”

  I thought about having a warm, loving, furry kitty to keep me company and chase away the spooky blues that came over me here when the sun went down. Kitty would dash into those dark corners and scare the dust bunnies away. My imagination wouldn’t run as wild with a cat for company. I opted for the permanent company. “Works for me. I’ll get on the phone now to the plumber and electrician and make a reservation back at the B&B. Guess I’ll get to use my coupon after all.”

  Jack asked, “While you’re doing that, do you mind if we poke around before we start cleaning? I’d like to see what the possibilities are.”

  “Possibilities?” I asked.

  “You have two storage units, and this is a relatively small cottage. I thought it was one story, but it looks like a split level or maybe there’s a loft or attic. There’s also an extension or a building toward the back nearly hidden by bushes.”

  “It’s kind of a shack. I have the plans here somewhere.” I rifled through the papers from the closing that I’d stacked on the table and pulled out a floor plan.

  Jack bent over, studying it.

  Gillian came over to take a look. She pointed at the date on the addition. “Not part of the original building; however, if it’s secure and in decent
shape, it might be a good place to start. If it’s empty, we could sweep it out and then we can just haul the stuff from your storage lockers into that addition, and you can go through it and rearrange things in the house the way you want over time.”

  “First, we need to find out if there’s anything in there,” Jack said. “And we still need to go through the house. At the very least, we have to get beds in here.”

  “And there is a loft or attic,” Gillian said. “Here on the plans it’s labeled as a loft.”

  “I haven’t climbed up there yet.”

  “I think we can leave that for later. Gillian and I will scout the place while you make your phone calls.”

  I doodled a u-bend while talking to the plumber and then called the electrician. As I hung up after scheduling the electrician for tomorrow, I heard a dull, clunking sound, followed by a rap at the back door.

  I opened it to a tall, thirty-something, tow-headed stranger, who looked like he’d be more comfortable on a surfboard than standing on my stoop. “Yes?”

  “Hi. I’m Dave. Welcome to the neighborhood.” He handed me a bottle of wine with a bright red ribbon around its neck. “I live right next door. And by the way, your doorbell doesn’t work.”

  That meant that both the front and back doorbells needed replacing. One more thing to add to the list.

  I held out my hand. “I’m Cass Peake. Just moving in as you can see.” I glanced around. “And I’m pretty sure there’s a lot that doesn’t work around here. C’mon in.”

  “I hope you last longer than the last owners.” He stepped over the threshold and looked around.

  Someone else with knowledge of the house’s history. Cool. “I almost hate to ask, but how long did they live here?”

  “It’s not so much how long they lived here—that was about two weeks total on and off—it was about five years ago that they bought the place. Couldn’t find a buyer until you came along. The last night they tried to spend here I’d been planning to go meet some friends in San Francisco, but there was a terrific lightning storm, so I was home when they came pounding at my door. Nice couple. Charlie called after you signed the papers to say goodbye, thank me, and tell me he was filing for divorce and moving to Kansas.”