Killer Beach Reads

by Gemma Halliday Publishing

  "Okay then," Aunt Alfa said. "Let's slip into Merry's room, Pipe. See if we can't find ourselves some evidence." Her little face tightened. My auntie really wanted the reward money. I guess I couldn't blame her.

  Trying to retire on a life savings of an essential oil collection wasn't easy.

  I glanced at Brownie to ensure he was still sleeping. He was out like an unplugged full-spectrum light, which was a relief. I didn't want him witnessing our entry into Merry's room. Technically, we weren't breaking in but still. We hadn't been invited.

  But if Merry was the thief, she deserved to be caught.

  Manouchka set the basket on the bed and removed a key ring from it. Then she picked up the doorknob and approached the closet. She kept her back to us while she fiddled with the repair. "Come on you dumb bouzin."

  That's a new one.

  Aunt Alfa laughed. "Boozin', as in too much booze. I like that for a new swear word. Move it you, dumb mother boozin'."

  I smiled. Only Aunt Alfa. "How about you piece of boozin'?"

  "I kind like boozin' for brains."

  Manouchka turned around. "Door's fixed, and we're in. Watch." She twisted the reconnected doorknob of the adjoining door and pushed it open.

  Merry's room lay ahead. Aunt Alfa—never one to let the wheatgrass grow beneath her feet—hustled right in. My breath suspended in my throat as I glanced back at Manouchka.

  "You coming with us?" I asked.

  She shook her head and pointed at the window. "I'll make sure Merry stays outside. If she approaches the inn, I'll let you know."

  Cool. We had a lookout. I went to join Aunt Alfa when my gaze fell on Brownie again. My adorable piglet was sound asleep, but my maternal instinct kicked in.

  Should I leave him alone with a stranger? Especially one who had exhibited odd behavior earlier? Could I live with myself if something happened?

  The answer came easily. No boozin' way.

  I grabbed his teal rhinestone leash from the dresser and attached it to his matching collar. "Wake up, Brownie boy. We're going on a little field trip."

  Wwwweeee! My little guy woke up fast and leapt to his hooves.

  We joined Aunt Alfa in Merry's room. It was identical to ours. Two double beds. A bookshelf and a dresser. A fancy phone. And an abundance of beige towels in the bathroom.

  "Find anything?" I asked Aunt Alfa, who was digging through a green duffel bag with roller wheels.

  She lifted up a floral muumuu. "That psychic lives in these things. She ought to try something new." Then she glanced at Brownie. "I thought you didn't want him seeing a life of crime?"

  I nodded toward our room. "I didn't want to leave him with a stranger."

  "You're a rockin' mom, Pipe."

  Aw.

  She pointed at a blue paisley suitcase sitting on one of the beds. "See if there's anything in there."

  I did as instructed, while allowing Brownie to sniff around. The zipper slid easily around the perimeter of the suitcase. Inside were more muumuus, orthopedic shoes, and a couple of jars of anti-aging creams. As well as a tube of pimple medication. Prescription strength.

  So much for her claims about psychic skin care.

  "She lied about ghosts helping her acne," I said as I held up the tube.

  "Is that a zit med?"

  "Sure is."

  "What a scam." She pursed her lips and waved her hand. "Forget her and her boozin' psychic readings."

  Yes! Perfect outcome to that little discovery. I dropped the tube back in the suitcase, zipped it shut, and scanned the room. "Where would you hide a glass cutter?"

  "Try the dresser," Aunt Alfa said. "Or underneath the bathroom sink. I already tried the makeup bag though. Nothing in there but dime-store makeup."

  That figured. I pulled open the top dresser drawer and burst out laughing.

  "What'd you find?" Aunt Alfa asked, joining me. She lifted up a pair of polyester panties the size of a pizza box. "Now those are some true granny panties."

  "That's why I can't believe you're registered on that website. You've never worn anything close to these."

  She nodded. "I only wear thongs, but I've gotten a few dates on that site. Remember Clay? He was cute."

  "You hated his dentures and got sick of him after one date."

  "Yeah, but I got a full-price scallop dinner out of it. With fingerling potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts."

  I loved Brussels sprouts too, so the point was valid.

  I rifled through Merry's stash of granny panties when my fingers hit something hard. I scooted the undergarments aside, and a box appeared. My heart rate sped up as I read the words that decorated the package. As Seen on TV: Glass Cutter.

  Holy chocolate babka! "Look at this."

  "That's mighty suspicious." Aunt Alfa's tone rose as she retrieved the box.

  "You're not kidding." My mind was on overdrive as I turned and glanced around the room. "If she used the glass cutter to do the heist, wonder where she'd store the conch shell?"

  Wwweee! Brownie tugged on his leash and charged toward the bed. Before I could stop him, he'd flattened himself on the floor and scurried beneath the bed's frame. Wwwweeee!

  I got down on my stomach and stuck my head under the bed. My gaze honed in on what had attracted Brownie. A fried conch fritter lay between Brownie's front hooves as he munched away. His little eyes lit up in culinary delight.

  "Stop that," I said. "I don't want you eating fried food."

  Brownie didn't care about my aversion to fatty food because the conch fritter disappeared before I could retrieve it. Apparently satisfied, Brownie scooted toward me. When he reached the edge of the bed, I noticed something he'd been blocking.

  A crystal ball.

  "I found it!" I yelled, reaching for the allegedly missing ball.

  "Me too!" Aunt Alfa's voice rose higher than a kid who'd sucked helium.

  My fingers made contact with the crystal ball, and I scooted it toward me. A rush of excitement hit me as I pushed my way out from under the bed. The evidence we'd found was pointing a condemning finger at Merry, Not the Mother of Jesus.

  She had to be the thief.

  I rose to my feet, clutching the crystal ball, and spun around. My pulse skyrocketed when my gaze landed on Aunt Alfa. She stood near the dresser, holding something that shell-shocked me.

  In her bony little hands lay the bloody killer conch shell.

  A grin bigger than her pad-thai-after-hours-early-bird-special score lit up her face. "Can you believe it, Pipe? Hello, twenty-five hundred bucks!"

  * * *

  Later that night, we'd explained the story, including Manouchka's involvement, several times to one of the Osprey Police Department's detectives. The beanpole detective in his fifties scribbled notes onto a small pad of paper. He'd taken the crystal ball, glass cutter, and killer conch shell into custody.

  As well as the alleged thief, Merry, Not the Mother of Jesus.

  Seth hovered nearby, rubbing his jaw and peering longingly at the evidence bag containing the infamous shell. "When will we get the killer conch shell back?"

  "As soon as the crime lab dusts it for prints," Detective Raymond said. "Need to make sure our case is strong. You're pressing charges, so we want them to stick."

  I thought about Merry's public arrest near the gates of the Osprey Inn. She'd shrieked about her innocence as they'd hauled her off under the inspection—and videotaping—of the news media. I'm sure the Killer-Conch-Shell Heist was an international story by now.

  Seth nodded. "I want her to pay for the damage she did to the display case too."

  "You'll probably have to buy a new one." Aunt Alfa took a sip of raspberry seltzer water provided to us by Seth.

  He'd been so elated at our discovery that he'd offered us a free breakfast and spa treatment tomorrow morning. Plus, he'd refunded our entire hotel stay with the exception of the nonrefundable pet deposit. A move I found rather rude considering Brownie had been the one to find the crystal ball after scarfin
g the wayward conch fritter.

  Hmm. That was the one piece of the Killer-Conch-Shell Heist puzzle that stuck out like a white chocolate almond in a bag of dark chocolate cashews.

  Why was the conch fritter under Merry's bed?

  I'd posed the question to Detective Raymond. He'd made a couple of notes, but he didn't seem bothered. Neither did Seth, Aunt Alfa, or Manouchka. Manouchka had been so excited that Seth let her collect half of the reward money that I doubted she cared about having to clean up the greasy mess. I would think the area would have to be disinfected. Wouldn't bits of a fried conch fritter begin to reek after a while?

  I was alone in my thoughts, however. Aunt Alfa was excited to order new scents for her essential oils. Manouchka was talking about taking a trip to New Orleans. And Seth was planning a killer-conch-shell recovery party.

  Wwweee! Brownie glanced up at me and flashed me a little pig smile. Aw. I crouched down to pet his snout. "You forget about this, okay, Mr. B? We don't normally raid other people's rooms."

  The glint in his dark eyes told me this was a night he'd never forget.

  I stood up and glanced at the grandfather clock. It was nearly eleven o'clock. "Aunt Alfa, Brownie needs to get to bed. I'm going to head upstairs. You coming?"

  Aunt Alfa gave Manouchka a quick hug. "I'll drop some of my essential oils off to you before we leave. Where's your room?"

  Manouchka gestured behind us with her thumb. "Past the patio in a little white house. There's a sign that says Head Maid's Quarters."

  Aunt Alfa thanked her and joined me. I scooped Brownie up in my arms as we ascended the steps.

  "Who would have thought the killer-conch-shell trip would make me rich?"

  I smiled, but didn't want to tell my aunt that twenty-five hundred dollars wouldn't exactly make her rich. We arrived at our room, and she opened the door. I situated Brownie in his bed and then performed my nightly cleansing, toning, exfoliating, seruming, and moisturizing routine.

  Twenty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom. The lights were off except for the gold lamp on my nightstand. Aunt Alfa was curled under the covers into a cute little half-moon shape. If I liked facial cleansing pads, I could have been tucked in too.

  But I was a gal who loved her suds.

  "Sweet boozin' dreams, Pipe." Aunt Alfa giggled like a school kid as she drew her knees to her chest. "That Manouchka's pretty cool. Did you hear she's going to New Orleans? And I was right about her dreads. She's into religion."

  "Is she a Rastafarian?" Not to adhere to stereotypes, but dreadlocks were a part of that culture.

  "She didn't say actually." Aunt Alfa's voice was fading. The hype of solving the heist must have overridden her wheatgrass rush.

  But not for me.

  I lay down in bed and listened to my aunt's dainty pffts as she dozed off. My mind was nowhere near sleep, however. The wheatgrass had wired me. I picked up my phone and texted Tattoo Tex. He was working a double shift, but he'd see my message on break.

  Miss and love you, Tex. Xoxo

  I was about to put my phone on the nightstand when I thought about the conch fritter again. Why was it under Merry's bed? Images from the day rolled through my mind. The first time we'd met Manouchka had involved an odd dried chicken foot for her cat named Voodoo. There had to be more to that story. Then I thought about the name Manouchka. Was that a voodoo-related name too?

  After all, organic apples didn't fall far from the tree.

  I did a quick search and learned the name was common in Haiti. A Creole name that meant you have psychic powers. Then I remembered how she'd said she could conjure up a home repair, and the odd way she'd kept her back to us when she'd fixed the doorknob.

  Huh. What if…

  My pulse raced as I sat up and leaned against my pillow. What was that word she'd said? The one that Aunt Alfa had interpreted as boozin'? The way Manouchka had used it had almost sounded like a cuss word. I consulted my phone and typed in Haitian Creole cussword boozin'.

  Time moved at an escargot's pace until an answer was returned.

  Bouzin was a Haitian Creole word for bitch.

  A moment passed while my mind pieced together another version of the Killer-Conch-Shell Heist. Suddenly words gelled like too much cornstarch in gravy.

  Creole. Haiti. Conjure. Voodoo. The dried chicken foot. New Orleans.

  Wait a second. Manouchka's cat wasn't the voodoo priestess…she was! That was why she wanted the killer conch shell. To use it in her voodoo practice.

  I looked up dried chicken feet. Yep. They were used in voodoo. Then I searched for curses with conch fritters. Yep. Apparently you could plant a covert conch fritter to bestow bad luck upon some unsuspecting person.

  Poor Merry. I'd say being arrested for a crime you didn't commit was bad luck. And I'd bet Aunt Alfa's reward money that Manouchka had placed the conch fritter under Merry's bed as a curse, when she'd hidden the crystal ball.

  Which meant Manouchka had played us.

  The nerve of that bouzin.

  The only thing that didn't fit was the recovery of the killer conch shell. Unless the one we'd found was as fake as my blonde hair!

  Only one way to know for sure.

  What better night to use the infamous shell in a curse than on the one hundred year anniversary of its use to murder two people? No way would Manouchka, if she was indeed a voodoo priestess, let this night pass without casting a spell.

  I pushed back the covers and got dressed. Hot pink leggings and a matching top would have to do. Black attire would have been better for snooping, but I was a pink girl. I scribbled a note to Aunt Alfa that read, I have a hunch. I'm off to Manouchka's to see if she's a voodoo priestess and has the real killer conch shell. Back soon, Pipe. Xoxo.

  I placed the note on my pillow and crept across the carpet, careful not to wake Aunt Alfa or Brownie. Once I cleared the hallway and descended the steps, I wondered if I was getting carried away.

  I did that sometimes. Like the time I'd been convinced I'd seen Elvis at a raw juice bar in Memphis. Turned out it was a hungover woman having a bad hair day. And the time I knew for sure that a hotel maid had used my ceramic flatiron to press (and scorch!) our sheets. Turned out Aunt Alfa was the culprit.

  But why bring up the past now?

  The French doors in the dining room led me to the patio, which led me to a wide span of lawn. I sprinted across the squishy grass and headed for the maid's quarters. My uncertainty increased with each step. Was I going crazy? Should I just go back to bed and prepare for a free breakfast and spa treatment tomorrow like a normal person would?

  A tiny white house with a blue sign confirmed Manouchka's quarters. I'd come this far, so I might as well take a quick peek. The front window was covered with a shade, but an inch of light framed the edge.

  Just enough for a nosy naturopathic doctor to peer in.

  I stepped onto the little flowerbed, careful to avoid mashing any plants, and pressed my face to the glass.

  Holy chocolate babka!

  My pulse raced as I saw Manouchka sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by several lit candles, holding a blood-splattered conch shell. I was right! Manouchka was the thief. But what to do? I needed a witness. I stepped backward and hit my foot against a rock.

  "Ow!"

  Oh, no. I leaned toward the window and peered inside. The back door was ajar. Manouchka was gone. Holy cocoa beans! I turned to run back to the inn, but was blockaded by Manouchka.

  Who was holding a gun pointed at my heart.

  "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Her cold tone made my chest tighten. "The killer conch shell's mine. I earned it."

  "Earned it? You stole it!" I'm pretty sure my PI flash cards would advise against taunting a psychotic voodoo priestess, but I couldn't help myself.

  "I work my tail off at the Osprey Inn for minimum wage." A maniacal glint twinkled in her eyes. "All that's about to change. The Killer Conch Shell's going to make me the most powerful voodoo prieste
ss New Orleans has ever seen."

  "I thought you were only taking a vacation there?"

  "That was a lie. I'm moving and setting up my own voodoo shop," she said. "Once I'm done with you."

  I didn't like the sound of that. "Look, Manouchka, it's a pretty big jump to go from burglary to whatever you're planning to do to keep me quiet."

  Hardness settled into her eyes. "You're not my first kill."

  The creepiness of her words chilled me. What could I say to bargain for my life? Then my cardiologist father's words came to me. Perfect!

  "I'm a naturopathic doctor and some people think what I do is voodoo. Maybe we can open up a shop together? I could relocate to New Orleans."

  Her hands gripped the gun. "Nice try, but I'm not sharing anything."

  I gulped "What about—"

  Wwweeee! Brownie's squeal rang out, and his little hooves thundered across the lawn.

  "No, run the other way, Brownie!"

  Manouchka spun and fired the gun, but luckily she missed. How dare she! My pulse skyrocketed as I launched myself at Manouchka. Our bodies crashed together with a thud. The gun flew from her hand and landed near a rose bush. We dropped onto the lawn, and she shoved my face into the damp grass.

  There goes my night cream.

  I struggled to roll on top of Manouchka, flattening her shell-stealing self into the grass. She shrieked and kneed me in the gut.

  "Ow!" I yelled.

  "Shut up, you bouzin!"

  Manouchka slapped me, and my cheek stung like I'd just gotten a micro-derm. I was about to return the favor when a tiny shadow fell over us. Aunt Alfa tottered in her platform pumps with her wheatgrass juicer / alien zapper in tow.

  "Stand back, Pipe."

  I followed orders and Aunt Alfa whacked Manouchka in the face, rendering my opponent defenseless.

  I jumped up and hugged Aunt Alfa, who stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that dogs nationwide could have heard. Lights in the inn flicked on, including a floodlight from the patio.

  "All that seltzer hit me," Aunt Alfa said. "I went to the bathroom and found your note. To be safe, I grabbed the only thing I could find and woke up Seth before I ran to you." Her voice got nasally, and her eyes watered. "Life without my Pipe would be like life without an account at WannaGetinMyGrannyPanties.com."