Murder by the Seaside

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  I launched myself from the counter and barreled down the hallway to the front door. Flipping the dead bolt with one swift movement, I watched in horror as Perkins’s shiny black car pulled into the drive before me. Killer closed in on my heels with a quick woof! No going forward. No going back. I swore loudly when the car door slammed outside.

  Killer barked again, and I threw the whole bag of rolls at him, hitting him square in the face. He caught the bag and shook it hard in his iron jaws. Ice slid over me at the idea I might be the next snack for Killer to gnaw on. I took the stairs two at a time as the front door swung open.

  Perkins immediately laid into Killer for stealing food from the counter. A loud yip sounded, and I dashed into the first open doorway, heading straight to the window. Perkins screamed and yelled like a lunatic over the pepperoni rolls. He had definite stress, a probable drinking problem and could use a little anger management. I should’ve left him my card during one of our visits.

  I climbed onto the roof without hesitation. The drop below was at least ten feet. I eased the window shut and climbed up instead, hoping to find another piece of roof angled lower to the ground.

  On the next patch of roof there were two options. I could climb off onto the front porch roof and down to safety or attempt to shimmy around the chimney onto the roof covering the porch where I broke in. Option two won by a long shot until the tirade downstairs ended with Killer being thrown out into the backyard.

  Forget the Maglite. I needed to carry Prozac if this was my new life.

  Careful not to be seen by anyone driving by, or Killer in the backyard, I pressed myself to the hot shingled roof. The sun beat down on me, drying my mouth and forming a throb behind my eyes. I had my phone but didn’t want to call anyone. Killer would hear my voice, bark and give me away, or maybe get another beating. Perkins was a mess. I could text, but whom? Who could I tell that I’d broken into the home of a man I believed was a killer, then, worried said man had been attacked by the real killer, was chased by his dog, Killer, and was currently hiding on his roof? No one.

  Really, what could anyone do?

  My parents were understanding enough to take it in stride and burn sage over me later, but I had their car. Sebastian was dealing with his own life-or-death problems and not available anyway or he would’ve responded to my insane voice mail. Plus, he was supposed to uphold laws, not cover for me when I broke some. Claire was at work and hours away from me without the freedom to come and go that Sebastian had. I rolled onto my tummy, and waited for a stroke of brilliance that didn’t come.

  I woke to the sound of a ringing phone and reached for my pocket. It wasn’t me. Groggy from so many sleepless nights, I moaned and nearly rolled off the roof. Eep! My feet scrambled for purchase, knocking a few loose shingles into the gutter. Killer barked and I flinched. Every inch of my skin screamed from sunburn. The front of me baked against the hot shingles while my back took the brunt of the sun, which had settled low in the horizon.

  I checked my phone for the time. Almost seven. I’d slept for four hours in the hot summer sun without sunblock. My cheeks hurt. One was pocked and speckled with tiny gravel from the shingle it had melded to all day. The other was probably the proud owner of a second-degree burn.

  “Because I had to do something,” Perkins snarled nearby. He’d wandered into the room below me. “What would you have had me do, huh?...Well that’s what I did...That’s your problem. I’m out.” He screamed a slew of f-words intermingled with “I’m out” a dozen more times, then began breaking things inside his house again.

  Out? What did that mean? I strained to hear more, but based on the amount of damage occurring inside, I guessed he’d ended the call. The number of possible scenarios plucked my curiosity to insanity level. I should’ve found a way to tap his line.

  A door slammed, then another, and an engine roared to life. I dared a peek over the porch eave. His car swung out of his driveway, and the tires barked as he tore down the street. My mind screamed at my limbs to work. I had to get away before he got back. My skin felt tight enough to split open as I eased my foot onto the ledge near the chimney. I hugged the stone chimney-face as if I wanted to marry it and didn’t look down. On the other side of the chimney was the covered porch, a short drop to the ground and a two-minute sprint to the love bus. My phone rang in my pocket, and I froze midair, straddling the chimney. I had no hands to answer the call. As it continued to ring I worried neighbors would find me there, clinging to the house.

  Grrrrruff! Grrrrruff! A familiar snarl sounded from the ground beneath me. I mashed my eyes shut. My luck sucked eggs. I inched back to where I came from. His barking grew louder and more consistent until neighbors began to scream at him to shut up. I crushed my face back against the shingles, hoping not to be noticed. As if a bright red woman could be camouflaged against the stark black roof. Killer clawed and crooned at the siding beneath me for an eternity. Night fell before I dared move again.

  When the streetlights flickered on, I slid over the eave onto the front porch roof. The street was quiet. One leg at a time, I swung down, placing each foot gingerly on the porch railing beneath me. I jumped to the grass and swallowed a scream as my sunburn flared at the stretch of skin. I didn’t look back as I ran for the bus, cursing myself for parking so far away.

  I dove onto the driver’s seat and checked my phone. Headlights swept along the side of the love bus, and I ducked on instinct. Perkins’s car crawled past. The look on his face was grim. He parked in his drive and an enormous SUV pulled in behind him. I swung the love bus away from the curb and into a U-turn without looking back.

  Claire had sent several texts. I called and spilled the entire story to her before she could say hello. Delirium hit when I crossed the bridge back to the island. I finished the story laughing and crying interchangeably. Claire, for the most part, was silent.

  “Does Sebastian know what you were up to?”

  “I don’t know. I left him a voice mail before I knocked on the door, but he never called back.”

  She groaned. “Today he had to drive to Williamsburg and give a deposition. He tried everything to get out of it, but they insisted. I don’t know if he’s getting back tonight or not. Either way, you need to stay put.”

  “Oh.” Relief ran over me. I wasn’t ready to tell Sebastian all I’d told Claire. He had his own life to worry about. If I could find Brady’s killer without him, that would be better. Maybe afterward I could help Sebastian with his situation.

  I parked outside Fine’s Pharmacy, hoping they were still open. Lucky me. They were. As I walked in, Sam Fines stood at the counter, smiling.

  “When will you be back?” I asked Claire.

  She huffed. “I planned on coming out today but you never answered your phone. Now I’m not sure. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Hello, Patience.” Sam waved.

  “Let me call you later.” I disconnected and smiled at Sam with the unroasted half of my mouth.

  “That is some sunburn you have there. What happened? You look like one of those sports fans who paints half their face red.”

  “What’s the fastest way to heal it?”

  “Cool compresses, aloe, maybe something topical to cut the sting.” He searched the white racks behind the counter. “Try this. If blisters form or red lines run through it, call your doctor. You could have sun poisoning.”

  “Okay.” What I meant was no way. I no longer had health insurance.

  “With a burn like that you’re likely dehydrated. Expect some headaches, dizziness and nausea. Possibly diarrhea.”

  “Thanks.” I shuffled into the aisle and collected Tylenol, Pepto and a gallon of water. Sam met me in the aisle with a bag.

  “When this settles down—” he motioned to my skin, “—are we on for golf?” He enunciated the last word.

  “Yes.” I wanted to do
a dramatic, stage-wink back at him but refrained. “Golf sounds nice.”

  “Then consider this on the house.” He placed everything except the gallon jug inside the bag and lifted a hand to pat my shoulder. He cringed and dropped it back to his side. “Remember, call the doctor if the symptoms are too strong tomorrow.”

  “Yep.”

  I shoved my way out into the night and threw up on the sidewalk.

  My parents brought over every remedy they could think of when news of my sunburn reached them. Sebastian got in late and knocked on the bathroom door. I sat in the tub, steeping my body in a tepid bath of tea leaves and other mystical whatnot. I dried with care and slid into a cotton nightgown.

  Sebastian filled me with Tylenol and kept my water glass full while conducting an inquisition of my every move and narrowing his eyes with my every answer. He didn’t love the voice mail I’d left him.

  “Don’t confront anyone alone again. No one. If I’m busy, I’ll haul you with me first, then we’ll do your thing together. You are not to go alone.”

  I wanted to jump and scream about being a grown-ass woman, but half my face hurt too much for screaming and half my body hurt too much for jumping. Who was I kidding? I was a mess and had no one to blame but me.

  “Affirmative?” A vein in his neck pulsed blue beneath his skin.

  “Affirmative.”

  Chapter Twenty

  There wasn’t enough coffee or aloe in the world to help me with my guilt over Adrian and my paranoia over what Perkins was up to, or to soothe my screaming sunburn. I tugged on my favorite cutoffs and one of Sebastian’s T-shirts. The faded blue cotton covered my shorts completely. I tucked in the front and stuffed my feet into sandals. I had a feeling it was a ponytail and dark glasses kind of day.

  Sebastian’s laptop sat on the kitchen counter with a scrolling screensaver. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.” A handful of ellipses followed. I waited. The follow-up to his note made me smile. “Don’t do anything impetuous until I get back.”

  Looking at the screensaver warning, a number of impetuous options sprang to mind, but Sebastian meant “don’t get hurt.” I had no intention. Until my sunburn healed, nothing would convince me to go anywhere near the boathouse or Perkins. I pulled my bedroom door shut and locked it before leaving. Then I locked and double-checked my front door. I had plenty to think over, but without coffee I couldn’t even apply mascara.

  Making coffee required more energy than I had in reserve, so I went to see Mrs. Tucker at the Tasty Cream. Freud followed me across the street.

  “Wait here.”

  When I opened the door to the ice cream parlor, I shuddered at the cold blow of the air-conditioning over my burn. Mrs. Tucker took one look at me and stopped wiping the countertop. She didn’t look surprised, only a little sad. Probably someone had reported my condition already. After all, I’d been out of the house for at least three minutes.

  “Oh, honey.” Her bottom lip pressed forward.

  “Coffee.” I slid onto a red vinyl-topped stool at the counter. “Ouchie.”

  She tipped her head over one shoulder. “Sam wasn’t joking. He came for breakfast this morning and said he saw you last night.” She retrieved a cup from under the counter. A few minutes later an aroma so heavenly I wanted to cry swam up my nose.

  “Cappuccino.”

  Mmm. I lifted the cup to my mouth, careful to keep it on the unburned half of my lips as much as possible. Each sip brought the world more into focus. By the time I finished my second refill, the hamster wheel in my head had churned out a dozen possibilities about Perkins.

  “You want to talk about it?” Mrs. Tucker smiled. Her kind face used to comfort me in times of trouble. This time I needed more than the assurance of unconditional friendship.

  “I think I need to talk to Adrian first. I owe him an apology.”

  “Honey, no one blames you. Least of all him.” She held up a finger, signaling me to wait.

  “Well, well, well.” A brassy voice screeched through my peaceful moment.

  I took a deep breath and turned to greet my high school nemesis. “Karen Holsten. How delightful to see you.” I tried to smile but failed.

  She waved her enormous diamond in my face, wiggling her fingers. “That’s Karen Holsten-Thompson now. In case you haven’t heard, I’m soon to be the mayor’s wife.”

  “Good luck to your husband.”

  Mrs. Tucker returned with a Styrofoam bowl of milk and a to-go tray. A lidded cup and small white bag sat on the tray. “For Freud and your friend.” She looked between Karen and me. Worry changed her friendly features. “The one you’re going to talk to.”

  “Oh.” Befuddled by Karen’s ability to look better than she did ten years ago, it took me a minute to catch on. “Oh! Thank you.” I walked past Karen without a good-bye. I had no idea what to say to her. “Have a nice day.” I called out, speaking mostly to Mrs. Tucker.

  A pair of heels clicked over the floor behind me. I kept going.

  “Is that little to-go order for the man who’s been staying with you?” Scandal coated the words. Her face was so eager when I turned to look at her, I wanted to laugh. Who could blame her? She had agreed to marry Beau Thompson and cuddle his portly physique for the rest of her life. I got to live with Sebastian, who, for all she knew, I got to cuddle every night. Everyone with eyes could see his physique was far from portly.

  “Congratulations on the engagement.”

  She looked me over. “What happened to your face? Did someone forget her sunscreen?” She pressed out her bottom lip and locked her fingers around the curves of her tiny waist. “That sunburn will add ten years to your face and increase your likelihood of skin cancer.”

  My blush flamed hotter than my sunburn. “Best of luck with the campaign.” My voice hitched.

  Mention of the campaign seemed to snap her out of attack mode. Karen smacked her lips. “Oh, we don’t need any luck. Our only competition is in jail for murder. I’d say Beau and I can take an extended vacation if we want and come home on Election Day to accept the position.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of ‘we.’ Are you running in tandem for mayor?” The joke flopped.

  Her face pinked up like a strawberry milkshake. The color stood out against the pale yellow of her suit. “Of course not. Beau will be mayor. I’ll be First Lady.” Her chin lifted high.

  I snorted and left while her highness still glowed like my sunburn. Freud followed me back to the apartment and I left the milk for him on the sidewalk near the steps. Walking up to the top, only to come right back down, sounded too much like exercise. I planned to save my energy for stop number two on my morning visits.

  The little pink tile roof came into view a few blocks later. Time to face Adrian. I cringed at the sight of Sheriff Murray’s cruiser parked at the curb. Climbing the steps to the front door, I hoped he was in his office blowing a gasket at someone else for a change. He wasn’t.

  “Come to fill out those reports?” He leaned over the receptionist. She looked busy marking up a map of vendor placement for the upcoming auction.

  “I hoped I could see Adrian.” I tried to make one of those puppy dog faces that get television women what they want.

  “Is there something in your eye?” He stared back while I continued to rearrange my features to something sympathetic. When I didn’t speak, he turned back to the receptionist. “The ones near the marsh need to maintain a standard ten-foot clearance.”

  She nodded.

  Then, his eyes were back on me. “What’s in the bag?”

  I blinked and looked at the bag, which I’d forgotten I was still carrying. I’d never asked what might be inside. “A file for cutting cell bars.”

  His eye twitched. Whether from watching my face contort so long or simply from his proximity to me, I couldn�
�t be sure. “Ha.” The word, devoid of humor, confirmed the latter of my theories as true. Then he stuck his hand out, palm up.

  I surrendered the bag, and he dug in forearm deep. As it turned out, the bag contents included one large cruller drenched in gooey icing. He held it to the light, poked at it, squeezed it then placed it back in the bag.

  “Gross.”

  He sucked on his poking finger. “What’s in the cup?”

  “Jeez. Are you for real?”

  His fingers opened and closed in the universal sign of “gimmee.” Unwilling to let him drink Adrian’s coffee, too, I removed the lid and tilted the cup slightly toward him. Steam lifted and spiraled into the air.

  “Where’s your sidekick?”

  I smiled and fought the urge to text and tell Sebastian that Sheriff Murray called him my sidekick. The receptionist smirked and turned her face away. I wasn’t sure what she found amusing, but my smile stretched wider in response.

  “I’ll give you ten minutes.” He walked away.

  The receptionist shooed me after him. I left the cruller on her desk. She pushed it into the trash with a quiet laugh. I suspected she and I might make great friends, but I needed to come back when the sheriff wasn’t around.

  I followed the sheriff as he wound through a maze of cubicles and short hallways to the single holding cell inside the station. I’d been given the official tour after an incident senior year involving condom balloons and whipped cream. Sheriff Murray, a deputy then, had brought me in as the only suspect, but he never found any evidence against me beyond the fact that I taunted him on a regular and ongoing basis. If I’d known then he’d become sheriff one day and that I’d still live here, I might’ve rethought things.

  “Patience!” Adrian ran to the bars and smiled. “I hoped you’d come. I know you’re blaming yourself. Please don’t. This isn’t what you think. When I heard you found a thread to pull in this case, I knew the whole thing against me would unravel. I called my attorney and then Sheriff Murray.”