Delphine is losing all faith in me. I can see it in her face; she isn’t reacting to anything I say. Just when I am about to continue my case, Edna Blanchett walks into the dressing room tent. She stares at the box and then back to Delphine, her lips pressed in disappointment.
“The box,” Edna says, as if it’s the box’s fault for showing its contents.
“Edna, what is this all about?” Delphine asks.
Edna slowly walks over to us. She thrusts her pointy chin up.
“The swimming cap was ugly. It was always ugly. Diamonds on a swimming cap,” she says. “What is the word Americans love to use? Tacky.”
Delphine is as stunned as I am. I would never describe the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau as tacky. A bit over-the-top, sure, but perfectly fitting for a mermaid queen in my humble opinion.
“You hated the cap enough to do this? To sabotage the whole movie?” Delphine says. “I don’t understand why you would do such an awful thing. After all we’ve been through.”
Edna looks down at the cap with a scowl.
“A mermaid queen wears a crown, not a swimming cap,” she says.
Can’t blame her on that. A crown would have been really nice. Honestly, Delphine can wear anything and make it look empowering. Who cares? Cap, crown. Toe-may-toes, ta-mah-toes.
“It’s not what you wear, but how you wear it,” I say, trying to cut the tension. It doesn’t work, since Edna sends a scowl my way, too. Her mean mug makes me feel as if she’s pricked me with one of her sewing needles. Ouch.
“What is the meaning of this?” Delphine points to the unraveling, plucked cap in disbelief. “You voiced your opinion on the cap and it didn’t go your way. That didn’t mean you had any right to destroy it.”
“My designs. My work.”
Delphine shakes her head in disappointment. “Making a movie isn’t a one-person job. It’s a team effort. What you did is so wrong.”
Edna presses her thin lips.
“I don’t like it here. I don’t like Mr. Davenport. I don’t like sea creatures. I don’t like anything!” She raises her hand and motions to the tent.
“But, Edna, you could have just told me. Why ruin the swimming cap? Why?”
Edna laughs. Not a mean laugh, just a sad, quiet chuckle.
“You no longer listen. It’s all Mr. Davenport this, Mr. Davenport that.”
Delphine’s face drops. I feel bad, both for Delphine and for Edna. It seems their friendship has fallen apart.
“But to do this.” Delphine lifts the sad-looking cap. “I don’t understand.”
Edna takes her measuring tape from around her neck.
“You are more than this,” Edna says. She closes the lid of the box. She places her hand on the top of the box. “We are more than this.”
Delphine places her hand over Edna’s. “Movies are my life. Each person who joins me on this journey does so because they want to entertain. It’s not about me or us,” she says. “It’s about the people we provide an escape for as well as moments of joy, laughter, sadness, or empathy.”
“Movies are my life, too. I left a job that I built from the ground up with my own sweat and tears. Everyone respected me in this industry. A silhouette made by the Oscar-winning designer Edna Blanchett meant something,” Edna says, quietly shedding her angry demeanor. “But now all I’m doing is gluing scales onto bodies for some horrible monster movie. You promised me movie productions of value, extravagant period pieces, dramatic costumes for serious roles. Instead, here we are on a beach.”
“I didn’t know,” Delphine says. “I guess I was foolish to think making a movie or having a steady job was enough. Does Henri feel the same?”
“Ah, now you remember my son.”
What?! Henri is Edna’s son. I can’t help gasping. I mean, I feel as if I were literally watching a movie right now, and we’ve reached the revealing climax.
“The only thing Henri wanted more than anything was to play your leading man in a Powerhouse picture.” Edna has tears in her eyes. “And when that was taken away from him, you didn’t even bother to get him a decent role in this. What choice did we have?”
A sudden commotion is heard outside of the tent.
“Maman!”
Walt stumbles into the dressing room with Henri in a disheveled mess.
“Henri!” Edna says, rushing to her son.
“I caught this one trying to rig the platform,” Walt says.
I shake my head. All this just because they didn’t like their new jobs? I mean, they could have just quit.
“Enough is enough,” Edna says. “Listen to this man, Henri. We have caused enough damage.”
Mr. Davenport runs into the tent, completely out of breath. It’s the cigars. Just saying.
“What in—?”
Before Mr. Davenport starts screaming, Delphine walks to him and tilts her head sharply.
“No more screaming,” she says. “We need to talk to Edna and Henri. A normal conversation, not a shouting match.”
I take the box with the naked cap and head out with Walt, giving them the privacy they will need.
“The sea creature, Henri, had this.” Walt shows me a wire cutter.
It looks as though I was right all along. Henri had plans to screw around with the rising platform. What a terrible thing to do.
“So much drama. And the true tragedy in all this: the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. Take a look,” I say.
Walt takes a peek inside. “All that work,” he says. “Oof.”
I close the lid. “So sad,” I say. “And I didn’t even get a chance to try it on. A diamond swimming cap would have really upped my game here at Crossed Palms. Take my already awesome fashion sense to a whole other level.” Maybe even get the attention of Diane, I think.
In the distance I can hear the sound of a police siren. The cops are on the way.
Walt and I wait to meet them.
Chapter Eighteen
AN EARLY BREAKFAST AT CROSSED PALMS RESORT means I get the dining room all to myself before the hustle and bustle of the guests. Ernesto, one of our servers from Mexico, places a big ol’ plate of scrambled eggs in front of me.
“¡Buen provecho!”
“¡Gracias!”
Most of the movie crew and actors packed up and checked out yesterday. The rest are due to leave today. Cheryl mentioned something about a busload of shoe salesmen arriving soon for their shoe convention here at the hotel. Shoes, shoes, shoes! Well, I will miss the Hollywood glitz and glamour, but we could use a bit of a change. It’s just been sea creatures, sea creatures, and more sea creatures. As usual, whatever is going on at the Crossed Palms, I’m ready to perform my house detective duties. A pair of diamond-encrusted heels could easily be making an appearance at Crossed Palms, and if they do, I’ll surely be well versed in how to handle such a priceless objet d’art.
I eat the last of my eggs and head over to Walter’s office. Ada the florist is off today. She told me she likes to spend her days off working in her garden. You must shower your flowers with love every day, Goldie, she once said. I wave to her assistant and cross over to Walt’s door.
A familiar scent of cigar wafts through the air. I press my ear to the door. Yup, Mr. Davenport is in there. It’s kind of early for business, but then again, Mr. Davenport is business twenty-four seven.
I don’t do my usual storming in. I actually knock.
“Come in,” Walt says, and I do.
Mr. Davenport sits opposite Walter, and to my surprise, they are also joined by Delphine.
“Good morning!” I say.
“Good morning, Goldie. I’m so glad you are here,” Delphine says. “We were hoping to run into you before we head back to California.”
For once, Delphine is dressed casually in pants and no makeup! She’s still so beautiful. Mr. Davenport is in his usual suit.
“Mr. Davenport here was just saying what a great and thorough job Crossed Palms Resort did,” Walt says proudly. I can’t believe it. Mr. Davenpor
t actually had nice things to say. I won’t believe it until I hear from him.
“You were! What else did you say?”
Mr. Davenport shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I like this side of Mr. Davenport. A bit speechless for once. Then he suddenly stands up.
“Goldie, I’ve already personally apologized to your mother, but I would like to apologize to you. I was wrong when I doubted you, and I was wrong in accusing your mother. I was also wrong for treating you like a child.”
I wait for him to insert a but in there. The silence starts becoming a little awkward. I guess he won’t be amending his apology, and I’m amazed. He thrusts his hand out for me to give it a handshake. Delphine looks on with a slight smile. I grab Mr. Davenport’s hand and give him a hearty shake. I didn’t know I was going to get so much love and appreciation this morning. I’m soaking it in.
“Good instincts. Focused. And above all else, unwavering work ethic,” he says. “Goldie Vance, you will no doubt be quite the detective. Look me up in ten years if you’re interested in a job in Hollywood.”
“Oh no, Mr. Davenport. I would never, ever, ever leave St. Pascal or the Crossed Palms Resort. This is home!”
“We should be heading out. I have a bit of a drive,” Delphine says.
“You’re driving?” I ask.
“Oh yes. I think I’m past due to visit my old stomping ground. A little detour to see how the five-and-dime is doing. And maybe even a dip in the pool.”
“If she insists!” Mr. Davenport says. “I’ll be flying to California. This movie won’t get finished unless I’m there.”
I can already picture Mr. Davenport pointing at random suits with his stinky cigar. I guess some things never change. At least Delphine is going on an adventure.
“Good for you, Delphine. I bet it will be fun to go home,” I say.
“Actually, you can call me Josephine. My closest friends do,” she says. “Before we go, I have a little something for you.”
She pulls out a little statue of a mermaid. It’s a winking blue mermaid. “I thought you might like this.”
“It’s so cute! I know exactly where to put it in my room.” I give her a hug. “I love it!”
Mr. Davenport and Josephine say their good-byes.
“Oh wait, I have one more question,” I say.
Walt lets out a moan. He doesn’t want me to mess up this beautiful moment. Sorry, Walt. I need to know.
“What’s going to happen to the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau? All those diamonds. All that hard work,” I say. “Will it ever be put back together?”
Mr. Davenport furrows his brow. “It was a beautiful piece. But we can’t justify re-creating it for the movie,” he says. “If there are reshoots we’ll use the prototype.”
It’s too bad. The original diamond cap was breathtaking.
“Well, I’m glad I was able to see the original.”
“Me too,” Josephine says.
The two finally leave and Walt breathes a sigh of relief.
“I’m sure going to miss them,” I say.
“What? The number of times I thought I was losing my job…” he says while counting his fingers. “Too many times.”
Walt isn’t looking on the bright side. He didn’t lose his job. We solved the mystery of the missing bejeweled swimming cap, and Mom is back working at the Mermaid Club. All is well, just as I knew it would be.
“I, for one, had no doubt. In fact, I’m surprised I didn’t solve the mystery sooner,” I say. “My takeaway on all of this: You can never have enough undercover costumes. What are your thoughts about creating a wardrobe of disguises? We can convert a closet. A detective should always be ready to change at the drop of the hat. What do you think?” There is a pause. “I can find us some threads, no problem. What’s your size, Walt?”
Walt grimaces. He may not be hip to the idea now, but I’ll convince him. It will take time for him to see things my way. He reaches for his suit jacket.
“I don’t think we’ll need costumes.”
“Hear me out, Walt—”
I list five reasons why my idea is the best. He listens patiently as we exit his office and walk toward the lobby.
“Okay, okay, Goldie. I’ll think about it,” he says. “Good job. Now that the movie business is behind us, I’ll need you to focus on the new day. Deal?”
“Deal!” I stare at the mermaid statue. “This statue may not be an Oscar, but it’s close enough.” I clutch the mermaid to my chest and begin. “I would like to thank the Deep End for making the best brain food around. And I couldn’t have solved the case without the help of my true friends Cheryl and Rob. A big kiss to my parents for being the very best parents a girl can have. And last, I owe it all to Walter Tooey, house detective extraordinaire.”
I take a lavish bow and a twirl, just like Josephine did when she wore the beekeeper outfit. Walt claps, which I so appreciate.
“Cars are waiting,” he says.
“Yes, sir!”
Walt goes one way and I head toward the valet station. But before I reach the valet station, I take a sharp right. There is an empty shelf in my bedroom that will make the perfect home for my mermaid.
Chapter Nineteen
THE DOORS TO THE MERMAID CLUB ARE CLOSED. IN A couple of hours, they will be open for business. I place my bike against the front door and head to the secret entrance. An electrician is working on the fuse box. I guess after all the blackouts, it’s time for the club to get an electrical checkup. Hopefully there will be no more lights out in the club’s future. Or mine.
Mike leans over the bar, writing in his tiny notebook. His face looks intense. Across from him, Angie unloads a box of bottles as she hums a tune to herself.
“Hey, Mike. Are the words flowing today?”
Mike doesn’t answer, but he gives Angie a nudge. Angie in turn pulls out a glass and fills it with bubbly water. Mike then slices a lemon and tucks in a tiny umbrella. “Here you go. A little treat to quench your thirst.”
I take a good look around. The Mermaid Club is no longer the land of sea creatures and mermaid warriors. The battle is officially over. Gone away are the vibrant corals, the textured walls, and the majestic throne. You would never even know that a big movie studio had taken over the Mermaid Club. All the cozy tables are back facing the tank of water. No more blinding spotlights or wires. And no more Mr. Davenport yelling in the megaphone. In fact, the club is quiet.
“Wow. It’s hard to believe the Mermaid Club was once ruled by a queen,” I say.
“What makes you think the Mermaid Club still isn’t ruled by a queen?” Angie says, hauling a box over to the kitchen.
“You miss it? Because I sure don’t,” Mike says. “I like to know what to expect during my day. I’ve also missed your mom and our customers. I won’t lie; I miss making money, too.”
He laughs and looks at the empty tank.
That is the one thing I missed, too. Mom doing what she does best. Mom as a magical mermaid.
“Funny. I never did find out who owned this glove.” I pull out the last of the evidence. Everything else checked out except for this. Walt said someone must have just accidentally dropped it.
“Where did you find it?” Mike exclaims.
“Huh?”
“Angie’s been looking everywhere for it. What with the movie business, I thought for sure we lost it.” Mike takes the white glove and pulls out the matching one from under the bar. “She must have dropped it with the blackouts. Thanks, Goldie!”
I can’t believe it. The owner of the gloves happened to be the one person I forgot to ask. I can’t stop laughing. I grab my glass and head to the dressing room.
“Hey, before you head back there. Thought you might want to see this.” Mike pulls out the latest issue of the Daily Gazette. “Look who made the front page.”
Well, how do you like those seashells? I’m on the front page of the Daily Gazette with the headline LOCAL GAL UNCOVERS DIAMOND HEIST. Byline by none other than Scoops Malone.
Walt is also in the picture, as are Mr. Maple and Mr. Davenport. The interview happened a couple of days ago.
“Cool! Can I keep this?”
“Of course you can. We already have, like, ten copies back here.”
I may not have gotten a promotion but Mr. Maple can’t deny my skills, not when it’s printed in black and white for all to see. I might have to frame this. Maybe hang it right alongside my pictures with Mom and Dad. I mean, I cannot believe Scoops wrote this:
“Budding house detective Goldie Vance…”
Now that’s the scoop right there! And he never once divulged how Josephine Walters was filming here. He kept his promise that all he would publish was an exclusive on the missing diamond swimming cap. Scoops may have had questionable working ethics, but he turned out okay. He’ll never be someone I think of as a mentor, like Walt, but I appreciate his drive. We both love uncovering the truth. We just have different ways of approaching it.
I knock on the dressing room door three times.
“C’mon in, babe.”
Mom faces the vanity mirror, applying purple eye shadow.
“Hi, Mom! Did you see who made the front-page news today?” I say. “Me!”
“Look at you. Your name in print. Why do I feel like this won’t be your last piece in the news?” She hugs me and I sit next to her.
“Actually, to be a great detective, it’s probably best not to be in the spotlight. A great detective stays behind the scenes. It’s the only way to gather the best information,” I say. Mom nods, listening attentively. “I made an exception because I wanted printed proof of Mr. Davenport’s apology.”
Mom laughs.
“Did you see his other gift?” Mom points to a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful red roses. Their fragrance fills the room. “In his note, he said if we ever want to make it in Hollywood to look him up.”
“Hollywood can’t compare to St. Pascal. We’ve got everything we need here. Right?”
“Don’t worry, babe. I don’t think I’ll be paying Hollywood a visit anytime soon,” Mom says. “Especially not when I have rehearsal in less than twenty minutes.”
The Hotel Whodunit Page 14