Miss you more than my 600-count down comforter. Xoxo.
I knew he'd understand the strong sentiment in my statement as we'd spent a lot of time under my comforter during his last visit.
A moment later, two texts appeared.
A cute smiley face and then: Is the killer conch shell really covered in blood?
I wished I could type something other than yes. But I couldn't lie. So I typed, Yes, and it's super creepy. As are most of the guests here.
A moment later he wrote back. Call me if you need anythang. I'm working a double shift at the peanut plant tonight. But I'll bug out and hop the first plane out of Dallas if you need me. Love you, babe.
Aw. He was my man. I texted, Love you too. Then I kissed my fingers and pressed them to my phone. An image of Tattoo Tex came to mind. What I wouldn't do to have my six-foot Texan boyfriend beside me during the killer-conch-shell blessing. Or during the movie.
Nothing like stealing a kiss in the dark.
"Pipe, they're seating for dinner. You done sexting?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I slipped my phone into my purse. The Goth-slash-vampire groom shot me a cheesy grin. Eeww. I joined Aunt Alfa in the line of people strolling into the main dining room. We walked in, and I admired the enormous chandelier that provided soft lighting. Two long tables were draped in black linen and set with an impressive collection of silver. The scent of vanilla filled the space, along with a hint of cinnamon.
Film posters of Bite Me, Mon Amour and Mr. and Mrs. Brown hung on the wall behind the buffet. Aunt Alfa was right. Elizabeth had worn black lipstick in Bite Me, Mon Amour. Both posters depicted the same handsome guy (if you found fangs handsome, that is), the same lovesick look on the leading actor's face, but different women. Each one apparently the love of Alexander's life at the time.
Poor Elizabeth. I could see why she'd been so distraught. However, I would have suggested she take a walloping dose of Rescue Remedy (a natural therapy for emotions) to alleviate her distress. Maybe she wouldn't have gone on a conch-shell rampage.
I turned my gaze toward a large, shell-shaped chalkboard that leaned on a tall wooden easel. Someone had written tonight's menu in red chalk.
Dinner includes field greens, grilled mixed veggies, gluten-free garlic bread, cranberry walnut quinoa, and gluten-free conch fritters.
Aunt Alfa elbowed me. "Conch fritters are pretty ballsy considering they killed Elizabeth."
I agreed. "I can't believe they'd serve those."
Seth, the manager who'd been talking with Merry earlier, walked in from what appeared to be the kitchen, as evidenced by the wait staff rushing in and out the swinging door. A gentleman nearby wearing a tuxedo uncorked a bottle of wine and began filling glasses.
"Welcome, everyone, to tonight's special event. Please enjoy the buffet," Seth said, gesturing toward the food. "After viewing Bite Me, Mon Amour, we'll have dessert."
I glanced at the menu again. No desserts were listed. "What're the sweets tonight?" I asked the waiter pouring wine.
He angled a bottle of red over a glass and glanced at me. "Crème brûlée and dark chocolate mousse."
The last three words made my heart do the Snoopy Dance. Unless…oh no. In the name of clear skin preservation, I had to ask.
"Do you know if the chef uses any cow's milk products in his mousse?" The very thought made the Snoopy Dance transition into a Snoopy Panic Mambo.
The man smiled. "No, he only uses coconut milk."
Score!
"Thank you." After a high school acne problem caused by dairy products, I couldn't risk going back.
We waited in line until it was our turn. I had a gracious helping of everything except the fried conch fritters. I just couldn't eat the very thing that had killed Elizabeth.
But Aunt Alfa didn't seem to mind eating deep-fried death.
She picked up the silver tongs and selected several large fritters. She glanced at my plate. "You don't want any? They're good protein."
I shook my head. "Saving room for dessert."
We took our seats at the end of a table and started eating. The salad and quinoa were divine, as was the garlic bread. Conversations quieted when the manager angled a standing movie screen at the front of the room and dimmed the chandeliers. The credits rolled, and an opening montage of Bite Me, Mon Amour filled the screen. Fair-skinned Elizabeth appeared, dressed in a black gown and cape as fang-faced Alexander chased her.
A short while into the movie, I finished my meal. Why hadn't they served dessert with dinner? Would it be rude to get up now and inquire? Probably. I guess I'd have to wait. But I didn't have to wait long because the light from the chandelier flickered a couple of times before totally going out. The drapes covering the windows blocked all external light, and the movie shut off.
Someone gasped, and a male guest said, "Turn the bloody lights back on."
Then Aunt Alfa said, "Hurry up. I want to watch the movie." Then she added, "What's taking so long? I need more conch fritters if this continues." Other partygoers expressed discontent, but no one moved. Too dark to see.
"This is ridiculous, Pipe."
I was going to shush my aunt when the lights flooded back on, along with the movie. Crisis averted. I'd just settled back in my chair, wondering how long it would be until I'd get some dark chocolate mousse, when a scream rang out. Followed by a screechy voice yelling, "Call the police! The killer conch shell's been stolen!"
Holy cocoa beans!
Aunt Alfa jumped up and bolted into the parlor. I had to run to catch up to her, which wasn't easy to do with a roomful of people in my way.
My auntie stood right next to the empty display case and gawked. "Will you look at that? Someone cut a perfect circle out of there."
She was right. I'd have to use a geometry compass to draw such an ideal shape.
The goth-slash-vampire bride peered at the crime scene. "The hole's so precise that the thief had to have used a glass cutter."
That caught my attention as I recalled Merry's earlier statement about her husband. Had she conveniently left out the part that she too was an expert glass cutter? And had she been present during dinner? I'd been too fixated on the dark chocolate mousse to notice.
Excited chatter filled the space. Everyone was buzzing about the theft and taking pictures of the scene. Someone was probably tweeting it too.
"Will everyone please listen up?" Seth's voice rose above the crowd as he entered the parlor. His face was pale and his jaw taut. "I just phoned 9-1-1 and was informed that the Osprey Police are busy investigating another crime so they won't be here for a while. Therefore I'm officially locking down the Osprey Inn. The iron gates have been closed. No one can get out until the killer conch shell has been located."
Silence overcame the room. Aunt Alfa's jaw hung open, and she clutched a few curls on her head, undoubtedly thinking she still had her foam rollers in.
"I'm asking for everyone's help," Seth continued. "The dispatcher said the killer conch shell theft wasn't a pressing issue for the Osprey PD, but it is for us. We're offering a reward for the return, or information that leads to the return, of the killer conch shell."
"How much?" someone asked.
"Five thousand dollars," Seth said. "In cash."
Murmurs and snippets of conversation rang out around us. The mention of money had the place hopping.
"Gee-whiz, Pipe. I could buy my own place for that kind of dough."
My stomach clenched. "I'd never let you move anywhere that only cost five grand, Aunt Alfa." I'd rather have her live with me forever than in some dilapidated single-wide trailer.
"Well, that kind of cash could buy me enough supplies to make oodles of essential oils plus a lifetime ad on my favorite dating site, WannaGetinMyGrannyPanties.com so I hope you brought your PI flash cards."
I shook my head. "I didn't think I'd need them."
"We'll have to solve this heist the old fashioned way then," Aunt Alfa said, setting her jaw the way she did wheneve
r she was deep in the zone of creating a new oil. "But first things first. Let's do a shot."
* * *
Fifteen minutes and two wheatgrass shots later, Aunt Alfa rinsed out our travel glasses in the bathroom sink and leaned them against the tissue box to dry. Then she cleaned out the wheat grass juicer and rubbed it with a towel.
"This thing could bonk someone in the noggin, if the situation warranted it," Aunt Alfa said as she set the neon-green plastic juicer on her nightstand.
She wasn't joking. "I always thought it looked more like an alien zapper than a handheld juicer."
"At least there aren't any extraterrestrials here."
I had my doubts.
She grabbed an Osprey Inn notepad and pen before joining me on my bed. "I'll be up all night now with that green goodness flowing through my veins."
"Me too. I never juice at night. It wires me." But tonight was different. I needed to be wired. Aunt Alfa wanted the five grand, and I wanted to get out of here.
Game on.
"Write down Merry as our first suspect," I said. "She said she wanted to draw the shell's energy. Plus, it's too coincidental that her husband's an expert glass cutter. I bet you my dark-chocolate-covered almonds she knows how to operate a glass cutter too."
Aunt Alfa scribbled a few notes. "Geez, I hope it's not her because I want my reading tomorrow morning."
I hoped we'd be gone by then. I didn't even care about the beach walk anymore.
"You remember when we were in the parlor, before dinner, and Merry was talking to Seth?" I asked. "I wonder what she was asking him about?"
Aunt Alfa pointed at the fancy gold phone on the nightstand beside me. "Only one way to find out."
"Good point." I plucked up the receiver and hit zero. A few seconds passed before someone answered.
"Osprey Inn Front Desk," a man's voice said. "How can I help you, Dr. Meadows?"
"Is this Seth?"
"Yes."
"My aunt and I are investigating tonight's theft, and I have a question. I saw Merry talking to you in a rather animated fashion earlier tonight before dinner. May I ask what she wanted?"
He let out a breath. "Ms. Merry reported an item missing from her room."
"As in stolen?"
Aunt Alfa turned toward me. "Something else got ripped off?"
I shushed my auntie. "Sorry, what was that?"
"Apparently her crystal ball is nowhere to be found," he said.
"As in lost or as in stolen?"
He paused. "I'm still looking into it, Dr. Meadows. I thank you for your shell recovery efforts, but if you don't mind, I need to go. A couple of news crews have arrived."
"Sure. No problem." I hung up and relayed the story to Aunt Alfa.
She jumped up and peered out the window. "ABC News is here. Can you believe it? And, oh, look! My favorite paper just showed up."
I joined her at the window as a National News Hounds van rolled to a stop outside the hotel. Hmm. The media attention was certain to do two things. Pressure the Osprey Police Department to begin its investigation and shine a spotlight on the Osprey Inn, which would undoubtedly lead to increased bookings. The historic hotel had never been sold out before this weekend, but a newsworthy theft might change that.
Had Seth orchestrated the heist?
"Let's add Seth to the list," I said.
"I think we need to check out this crystal ball story, Pipe. See if the thing's really missing or not. Merry could've said that to make it look like the thief ripped her off to cast suspicion away from her. Plus we need to verify if she's got a glass cutter hidden in her room."
I scrunched my face. "It's not like she's going to tell us."
"Honestly, you might need another shot." She cast me a look that screamed duh.
"What was that for?"
She jabbed her thumb toward the wall. "Merry's room's right next to us. I bet we have an adjoining door."
"Yeah, but it'll be locked." I shot her a bigger duh look.
She grinned. "Won't be locked for long."
It took me a moment to realize her B & E intentions. "Aunt Alfa! We're not committing one crime to solve another. Breaking and entering was never suggested in my PI flash cards."
"So? All the world's an improv stage." She strode toward the wall adjacent to Merry's room and ran her fingers along the sheetrock. "Lots of old hotels have secret doors, but I don't see any cracks indicating one. Check behind the bookshelf."
"I can't believe you're doing this in front of Brownie. He doesn't need to be introduced to a criminal element."
"He made off with that chicken foot earlier like it was nobody's business. If you ask me, he could run the south side of Chicago."
WTF—Piper-speak for what the fennel—ran through my mind.
I glanced at my sleeping piglet. He was snuggled on his SpongeBob cushion, lying on his side with his right front hoof near his snout. The picture of innocence. "No way, Aunt Alfa. My boy doesn't have a mob bone in his little body."
"Moms are the last ones to admit their babies are gangsters."
I kept quiet because I knew she was speaking from experience. Not that her seventy-two-year old son, Gerald, who lived in Long Island, was exactly a mobster. But he had once been named a person of interest in the burglary of a bingo parlor.
Long story.
Aunt Alfa edged toward the closet and shoved our clothes out of her way. A moment later, she said, "I found the door!" Her little body jerked as she tugged on the handle.
"Stop that! You're going to wrench your arm right out of its socket. Plus what if Merry's in her room?"
She pursed her lips. "Good point. Let me go knock on her door. I'll say I want to double check my psychic appointment time."
I didn't have time to respond before Aunt Alfa hustled out of our room. A moment later she reappeared, all smiles.
"No one's home." She made a beeline for the door and gave the handle a tug. "Ouch."
"You're going to hurt yourself." I rushed inside the closet and nudged her aside. Great-niece to the rescue. "Here. Let me try."
I wiggled the handle, but it wouldn't give. Then I gave it a wheatgrass-fueled tug and fell back on the floor. With the darn knob in my hand!
"You're a beast on wheatgrass, Pipe."
Ow. "A beast who's going to have a repair bill from the Osprey Inn unless I can reconnect this." I groaned as I stood up, rubbing my derriere.
"You can probably use your flatiron to push out the other part of the knob." Her voice brimmed with excitement.
"No. That will be more destructive and add to the bill I'll undoubtedly get once they inspect the room after we check out." Which couldn't be soon enough. I was sick of this place.
Aunt Alfa pulled her face into her famous lemon-sucking pose, which she did often, because she thought lemons were good for the liver. Then her eyes widened. "I know. Let's try to glue the knob back on with gum."
"I don't think gum's very durable."
"But I have a pack of Doublemint. Could be double the stick."
I doubted it. I approached the door and tried jamming the knob back into place, but it wouldn't fuse. Then I tried gently reattaching it, and that didn't work either.
"Let's look online." I headed for my phone. I set the knob under a decorative pillow on the bed, sat down, and typed in how to reattach a doorknob. Responses were loading when someone knocked on our door.
"Turn-down service," Manouchka's accent announced.
"Could be chocolate involved," Aunt Alfa said as she tugged open the door. "Hey, Manoocho. How's the killer conch shell search going? We're on the hunt, so if you hear anything, let us know, okay?"
Manouchka strolled in carrying a basket and closed the door with her foot. The impact shook the bed. I cringed as the doorknob rolled off the bed.
And landed on the floor.
Manouchka instantly spied the B & E contraband. "May I ask what's going on? What door's that from?"
I shot up off the mattress. "It was an ac
cident." Tiny lie. "I, um, bumped into the doorknob in the closet."
It was moments like these that I loathed being a bad liar.
Manouchka's eyebrows arched. "You expect me to believe you weren't trying to get into the adjoining room to search for the shell to win the reward money?" She pulled a folded-up piece of paper from her pocket and ran her finger along the edge. "Ah. Psychic Merry's in the adjoining room. You think she could be the thief?" Manouchka turned her scary gaze on me.
Goose bumps erupted along my arms. What if she hexed me? Or, worse yet, what if her voodoo cat hexed me?
"Merry told me her husband's an expert glass cutter," I said, "so it stands to reason that she might know how to operate glass-cutting equipment, which could make her a suspect."
"Makes sense," Manouchka said. "Merry's at the front gate right now talking to a reporter about her stolen crystal ball."
"Which could be a fib to make herself look like a victim and divert attention away from herself." Wow, I sounded like a real PI.
Aunt Alfa's eyes went as round as her favorite peanut butter balls. "The glass-cutting psychic's outside?"
Manouchka nodded. "She's next on my turn-down service list."
Aunt Alfa glared at the maid. "Don't you go nab the shell and win the reward money, Manoocho."
Manouchka shifted the basket to her other hip. "Staff aren't allowed to collect the award, however, I could always take a private cut." She paused, her eyes growing darker. "What if I fix the door and don't tell Seth you broke it. Then I'll let you two in Merry's room. If you find the shell, you give me half of the reward money?"
"Works for me. I'd be happy with twenty-five hundred large." Aunt Alfa looked my way. "You good with that, Pipe?"
I nodded. I didn't want to anger freaky Manouchka. Plus, I didn't want the reward money anyway. I just wanted to go home and Skype Tattoo Tex in the privacy of my bedroom on my 600-count down comforter.
"You promise not to tell anyone that Pipe busted the doorknob?" Aunt Alfa asked.
"Promise," Manouchka said. "And I'll fix it. I can conjure up a home repair faster than anyone, trust me."
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