Henry wolfed down his lobster roll and talked with Aunt Gully about the colorful buoys decorating the side of the lobster shed. “Best lobster roll ever,” he said, and gave her a hug. Aunt Gully’s cheeks pinked.
One of Gully’s Gals came to the door. “We’ve got a line, Gully!”
Aunt Gully, Hector, and I went back inside the shack. “Do you think people will leave them alone?”
I scrolled to Instagram on my phone and turned it to Aunt Gully. Verity’s Vintage was tagged. “Everyone thinks Eden’s in a dressing room at Verity’s shop.”
A few minutes later Hector and I peeked out the back door. Eden and Henry sat, untroubled, at the end of the pier, swinging their legs, looking out at the water.
A Range Rover muscled into the parking lot. To my surprise, Zoe Parker was driving. From director of marketing to chauffeur? Eden and Henry took a selfie with the sparkling river in the backdrop, and then got in the SUV. Hector and I waved as they left.
My phone dinged. A photo of Eden and Henry with the river behind them was tagged LAZY MERMAID LOBSTER SHACK. Eden’d written, “Best lobster rolls, best views, best friends. Thanks Aunt Gully, Verity, Allie, and Hector!”
“Batten down the hatches,” I said. “Code Red. Get ready for a crowd!”
* * *
Dozens of Eden fans poured into the shack to find the elusive star. Lorel had caught the mention on social media and drove over. She was distracted, but she was dressed, her hair was combed, and she was smiling.
“Your sister has her spark back,” Aunt Gully whispered to me.
Thank you, Eden.
At rehearsal later that evening, the theater buzzed with excitement. The secret about our “German soprano” was out. A storage space was converted into a private dressing room for Eden, complete with security guards. Eden and the actress playing Ondine did a private rehearsal in one of the practice studios. Henry didn’t come to the theater.
When rehearsal was over, I ran to the parking lot to see if I could speak with Eden before she left. I was too late. I stood with other cast members, watching the taillights of the Range Rover burn into the darkness.
Chapter 28
Tuesday, July 7
When Lorel, Aunt Gully, and I gathered for breakfast there was an arrangement of yellow roses and carnations on the kitchen table alongside our usual bowl of fruit salad and mugs of tea.
“What’s this?” I read the card. “Dear Miss Larkin, I hope you are feeling better today. If I can be of any assistance, please contact me. Sincerely, Paul Gibson.”
“Paul Gibson?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I laughed. My sister had worked her magic on yet another man, the police officer from two days ago. God forbid Lorel be manless for more than a day or two.
“They’re very nice flowers.” Aunt Gully threw a look at me as she set down a plate of blueberry pancakes.
Lorel shrugged, sipped black coffee, and stared at the television.
Leo Rodriguez’s face filled the screen. Over his shoulder, Model Sailor bobbed at anchor with a Mystic Bay Police boat tied up alongside.
The camera pulled back. Wind whipped Leo’s hair and his knuckles whitened as he held onto the grab rail of a powerboat. The boat rocked and he swallowed hard.
“Water’s a bit choppy.” I spread butter on my pancakes and dug in.
“Leo does look a little green around the gills.” Aunt Gully aimed the zapper at the television.
Lorel held up her hand. “No, wait.”
“Not far from where the body of the Girl with the Pitchfork Tattoo was pulled from the dark waters of Mystic Bay, tragedy has struck for a second time.” The camera panned from Leo to Stellene Lupo’s mansion. “We’re less than a mile off Harmony Harbor, the imposing estate owned by modeling mogul Stellene Lupo. Yesterday, the body of a man was discovered in a small boat tied up to Lupo’s yacht, Model Sailor.”
I set down my fork and rubbed Lorel’s back.
“The man has been identified as thirty-one-year-old Patrick Yardley of Mystic Bay. Yardley owned the popular restaurant and nightspot New Salt. The entrepreneur was shot several times and died sometime on the night of July fourth or early in the morning on the fifth.
“Police have interviewed the four people who were aboard the yacht at the time of the death. Police have not yet released their identities.”
I hoped they never would.
Tears spattered Lorel’s cheeks. Aunt Gully stroked her hair.
“Ms. Lupo declined interviews through her public relations office.” Film showed a Range Rover speeding into the tradesmen’s entrance of Harmony Harbor.
“Details are still forthcoming. If you have any information to share, contact police at the number at the bottom of the screen.” Leo swallowed again and took a deep breath. “Meanwhile, locals are mourning the loss of this successful local businessman.”
Film cut to the bar at New Salt. Spar Yardley’s face filled the screen. Sorrow carved deep lines in his face, but his chiseled chin was the same as Patrick’s. “He was a good boy,” Spar said, “a good boy.”
Leo continued, “Family and friends are invited to a wake for Yardley at New Salt tonight.
“And in related news, police are still waiting for a break in the case of the young woman discovered by a lobster crew off Cat Island on July second. Officials hope a friend or family member will step forward to identify the body. Will we finally have a name for the Girl with the Pitchfork Tattoo? Reporting live from Mystic Bay, I’m Leo Rodriguez.”
“I’m getting dressed.” Lorel tightened the belt of her robe and went down the hallway. Aunt Gully watched Lorel go, her lips turned down. She muted the television.
“I wish they’d stop with that name,” I huffed. “That girl had other tattoos.”
“I wonder if Spar asked Darcie about having a wake at the bar.” Aunt Gully took Lorel’s untouched plate and poured syrup on her blueberry pancakes.
My tea had gone cold. I put the kettle on and when the water boiled I made tea for myself and Aunt Gully.
I set her cup on the table.
“Thank you, honey.”
I put dishes in the dishwasher while Aunt Gully ate. “You’re going to the wake tonight?”
Aunt Gully pushed her half-eaten pancakes away. “Of course.”
“I’ve got rehearsal.” Maybe the wake would be over by the time I got out.
Aunt Gully read my mind. “If it’s a wake run by Spar Yardley, it’ll just be getting going after nine. He’s the type that likes a real Irish wake.”
I wiped down the pink Formica counter. No excuses. But going to the wake would give me a chance to talk with Hayden.
A car horn honked outside. Verity and I planned to run to Harmony Harbor with Eden’s dress and Henry’s hat.
“Verity and I have a quick delivery to make. I’ll see you at the shack.”
“You don’t have to rush,” Aunt Gully said. “I’ve got some Gals coming this morning.”
I grabbed my bag. Thank you, Gals.
* * *
“What do you mean we can’t come in?” I said.
The security guard at Harmony Harbor’s main entrance looked up from his clipboard. “You’re not on the list.”
“But we’re supposed to be on the list. Eden put us on the list. Verity Brooks. Allie Larkin.”
He shook his head.
“Allegra Larkin?” I tried.
He didn’t even look at his clipboard. He shook his head.
Verity and I looked at him. He looked at us. Rather his dark glasses did. His brushy black moustache didn’t quiver.
The guard jumped back as Verity scrambled from the Tank and pulled the box holding Eden’s Victorian dress from the backseat. She’d tied it with a navy blue organza bow and Verity’s Vintage tag. “But I have a delivery for Eden. She’s a guest. It’s very important. Very, very, very important.”
The lens of a security camera above the booth gleamed.
I got out of the Tank, too. I�
�d have to rein in Verity if she got too pushy. I didn’t need any more cops in my life but I did want to talk to Tinsley. This delivery was our only hope of getting into Harmony Harbor.
Verity brandished the box at the guard. The guard threw a look from me to Verity.
I folded my arms and lifted my chin, trying to channel Stellene’s air of command.
“Mrs. Lupo says nobody through the gates without special permission. You have to be on the list.” The guard’s moustache twitched. He moved closer and lowered his voice.
“Listen, I’m not supposed to say anything, but that singer took off anyway. With her boyfriends.”
“Eden?” I said. Boyfriends? He must mean Lars and Henry.
He nodded.
“Where?” Verity said.
He shrugged.
A car pulled up behind us. The security guard said, “If you please, ladies?”
We got back in the Tank. Verity pulled the car around and we headed back toward Mystic Bay, silent in our disappointment.
“That witch!” Verity fumed. “Eden asked her to put us on the list. I saw her text.”
I leaned my head toward the window, letting the air cool my forehead. “It doesn’t matter. If Eden and Henry are gone, it’s no use leaving their stuff there. But I did want to talk to Tinsley.”
“Well, so much for that. No smoking-hot Henry for me,” Verity said. “No hanging with a superstar for you.”
Suddenly I was bursting to tell Verity Eden’s secret. “Remember I told you that Ondine’s a showcase for some German opera singer?”
“Yeah?” Verity fiddled with the radio.
“There is no German soprano,” I said. “Eden’s going to be in Ondine.”
The Tank swerved. “Are you kidding me? I thought Ondine was just going to be some boring opera.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Verity grinned. “Can I come to rehearsal? And I can give her the dress?”
“She should be there. Opening night’s this Thursday.” The haunting song from Stellene’s party played in my mind. “She’s the Water Witch. She only has one song, so she hasn’t needed to be part of the early blocking and rehearsals.” Big stars didn’t have to adhere to the rules everyone else in the theater followed. No wonder Eden’s understudy was so steamed.
“So is she with Henry or not?” Verity said. “Because if she’s not—”
“It’s confusing. Maybe they’re just old friends. She’s got some guy named Lars, too.” I didn’t mention that I also thought Henry was very, very attractive, plus he’d been so nice … and funny …
“Did Lorel ever tell Mrs. Yardley that she broke up with Patrick?” Verity said.
Verity’s question brought me back down to earth. “Nope.”
Verity chewed a fingernail. “It would probably break Mrs. Yardley’s heart if she knew Lorel and Patrick broke it off.”
“That’s what I think.” Mrs. Yardley’d always looked at Lorel as the daughter she never had. The news would be an additional blow to a woman in a very fragile emotional state.
As usual, Verity read my mind. “Lorel’s going to have to fake this.”
“I hope she does, at least for the wake.” I fanned myself. The air was already muggy and the Tank’s air-conditioning had broken decades earlier. “I could go for some ice cream.” We drove to Scoops, our favorite ice-cream shop. Even though it was early, a line of tourists snaked from the order windows.
“It’s a tour group,” I said. Summer meant we didn’t go to many of our favorite places—the lines were too long, there was no parking, and the workers were too harried to talk. “Let’s get some ice cream at the Beach Stop.” The Beach Stop was a convenience store that carried pints of Scoops ice cream. Verity drove two blocks down into a strip mall.
Verity pulled into the Beach Stop and we bought a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. We put a towel on the trunk of the Tank and ate as quickly as we could as it melted in the July heat.
“I know it was strained with Eden and Stellene but Harmony Harbor’s huge. They could have stayed out of each other’s way. I wonder why Eden left? Harmony Harbor has security,” I mused. “Where would they go?”
“And who wouldn’t want all those people to wait on you?” Verity said.
“She probably wants to get as far away from the memory of what happened on that boat as possible. I do.” For a second, I saw Patrick in the bottom of the rubber boat. I shuddered and pushed the thought away.
Verity patted my arm. “Death sucks.”
“It’s funny Stellene would let Eden go. She was all hostess with the mostess at the Fourth of July party, and Stellene arranged for Ondine to premiere at Broadway by the Bay.” I licked my plastic spoon. I remembered Mac’s silent toast to Stellene at the Fourth of July party. His arm around her.
My eyebrow quirked.
Verity said, “I know what that eyebrow means. Spill.”
I told her what I’d observed with Stellene and Mac, how I’d seen Mac’s car parked at Harmony Harbor the morning after the party. “Maybe that doesn’t mean anything. She must have a billion guest rooms in that house.”
“Or they’re an item. Well, that’s okay. They’re the same age and all,” Verity said. “They both like theater and music and money.”
Talking about Mac had jarred my memory. “Did I tell you that Mac painted a portrait of Margot Kim? It was strange.”
“Do you think he’s into her?”
“Well, evidently not if he’s into Stellene.” But there had been another portrait in the studio, the one covered with a sheet. Was that a portrait of Stellene?
“Maybe you’ll be next.” Verity waved her spoon. “Portrait, I mean. You’re much more intriguing than Margot Kim.”
“I’m not sure I like Mac’s style. He captures the worst in people.”
Verity’s eyes grew dreamy. “Didn’t Henry look adorable in that top hat? Oh, I forgot that at the shop! How did I forget it?”
She scrambled to her feet. I threw the empty pint of ice cream in the trash.
“Let’s go get it. And then let’s figure out how to get this stuff to them.”
I hit my head. “Oh, easy. She’s on Instagram.”
“Do you think she’ll pay attention to that? I’ll message her.” Verity typed on her phone. “Fingers crossed.”
“And if not, just bring it to the theater tonight. And then—” my shoulders sagged—“there’s Patrick’s wake.”
Verity shook her head. “That’ll be torture. I guess I’ll go. Do you want me to drop you at the Mermaid?”
We got into the Tank.
“No rush this morning. Aunt Gully’s got her Gully’s Gals. They think it’s fun to pick lobster and play restaurant.”
Verity laughed. “I could use them to play vintage shop.”
“Let’s go back to your shop and I’ll walk over to the Mermaid. Come with me to rehearsal, then we’ll go to the wake together. Um, actually, do you have a black dress I can use?” My wardrobe consisted of workout clothes and a few colorful party pieces.
Verity tapped the steering wheel. “I’ve got this great maxi. Black with a paisley pattern at the hem. Drawstring waist. It’ll look great on you.”
We drove to Verity’s shop. “All those people in here yesterday chasing Eden made a mess,” Verity said as we went inside. She flipped the sign on the door to OPEN. “One of them tore the drape off the dressing room. Then they all whooshed out like a tidal wave.”
I helped her rehang the dressing room curtain, then tried on the black loaner dress. It fit, but was a tad short. Story of my life. I dressed and joined Verity. “But I bet a lot of Eden’s fans posted what they were doing online. Maybe you’ll see more customers today.”
“Maybe.”
She reached behind the counter and flourished the top hat. “I’d tucked it under here for safekeeping and then forgot it. How could I? It’s still warm from Henry’s touch.” She turned to the mirror, put on the hat, and tilted the brim.
I laughed but remembered Henry’s singing in the van, his attentiveness to Aunt Gully at the shack, the way he’d gently draped the robe around Lorel’s shoulders. He was more than a hot guy who could play a guitar.
I left Verity rummaging for a box big enough for the top hat. I knew I should get back to the Mermaid, but instead my footsteps turned toward Franque’s. When I’d asked him about the jeans, he’d said there was something else about the girl that had struck him. Maybe he’d remembered what it was. Everything that happened with Patrick had taken finding out what happened to the Girl with the Pitchfork Tattoo right off my radar. I felt that familiar stab of guilt.
I stepped inside the green walls of Fashions by Franque. Franque rushed to the front of the boutique.
“Well?” His eyebrows lifted above his heavy frames. “I’ve been dying for more news!”
“Sorry, nothing new. I thought maybe you’d remembered something,” I said.
“Yesterday, a cop came in and asked me about the jeans,” Franque said.
His sister walked by with a stack of colorful scarves. “Highlight of Franque’s life.”
Franque waved her away.
“That’s good,” I said. “At least they’re taking it seriously.”
“And I did remember something else,” Franque said. “Don’t know if it’s important.”
“What is it?”
“Remember I told you she paid cash.” His eyes glowed.
“Yes. Too bad she didn’t use a credit card,” I said.
He waved it off. “She bought a stack of clothes.” He held his hands at his waist and over his head. “And honey, I’m expensive. Get this. This morning, I tried to hypnotize myself to access my memory. I think it worked.”
His sister snorted.
Franque cut his eyes at her. “I’m a visual person. It helped that they had the tattoo on television so I could see it again.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples. He began to speak with a rolling cadence. “I see her hand with silver rings. I see her hand reaching into her handbag. I mean that’s the kind of thing I remember. I see the sexy sundress but an awful cheap bucket bag, pleather, probably bought at one of the marts. And then I see…” He paused.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Against the Claw Page 16