Body on the Beach

by Maria Quick

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You got a dead body delivered to your door. Instead of calling the cops straight away, you took it in, removing evidence and fingerprints. You then waited for ten hours to call them, after stealing from the corpse. None of that really puts you in a good light.’

  ‘Hey, I put the wallet back. And maybe I was afraid, okay?’ I retorted, but I could feel my hand slowly retracting towards my body.

  ‘So, why didn’t you scream louder when you saw it? Raise the alarm?’

  ‘Because... damn it, I hate you,’ I tutted.

  ‘I’m only asking what they’ll ask,’ he shrugged, walking through the TV. ‘They’ll wonder why you’re here alone, and they’ll start digging around. They’ll find out that Angela’s apparently your stepmom, and they’ll realize that’s a lie. You’ll get shipped back to Dayton and poor Ronnie here’ll never have justice.’

  ‘Aw, thanks for thinking about me,’ Ronnie grinned. ‘Suppose you’re right, though.’

  ‘Alright, no cops. What’s plan B?’

  They each gave me a blank look. Pretty reassuring.

  ‘Okay, forget that for a minute. Let’s look at what we know about you,’ I said instead to Ronnie. ‘Angela killed you by whacking you over the head and tossing you in the water. So, no evidence there. Were there any cameras around?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Any witnesses at all? Or, anybody who saw you walking together?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’

  ‘Great. Simply wonderful. And you still have no clue about the location of the briefcase?’

  ‘Cripes, I’d forgotten about that. So, no,’ he concluded.

  Why did I feel like we had less than what we started with? Technically I had more, considering the new mangled addition to our team, but I couldn’t even think where Jorge fit into all of this. Maybe nowhere. Maybe none of this would ever make sense. It sure felt like it, anyway.

  Ronnie didn’t have friends. He was killed in a foreign country where no-one knew him but his killer. If not for me, she would’ve already gotten away with it. And to be honest, there was nothing I could actually do here. You win some, you lose some. This was a loser.

  Now all I had to do was make sure that Ronnie knew that so he could come to peace with it. Easier said than done.

  I started off with “the look.” You know, one of complete depression, hope abandoned, utter despair taking over. I accidentally learned it from my father.

  Then, I took a deep breath. He’d been watching me, confused up until then, but as soon as I opened my mouth it dawned on him.

  ‘Don’t say it,’ he warned.

  ‘Ronnie...’ I started anyway. He leapt up off the armchair and marched over to me, furiously shaking his head.

  ‘No! I won’t let her get away with this.’

  ‘I don’t think we’re going to have a choice. We have-’

  ‘No!’

  ‘-Nothing on her whatsoever,’ I said calmly – but firmly - over his yells. ‘The only thing I can possibly do is tell the cops who you are and who she is. That’s it.’

  ‘What about the money? She’ll have gone to your aunt’s to find it.’

  ‘And she’ll have found nothing,’ I pointed out. ‘I can tell the cops that story, but it’s not going to help. She can easily pretend she went to Boca Raton for a drive.’

  ‘Surely that’ll be enough to arouse their suspicions?’ he attempted, but I could see even he had trouble believing that.

  ‘Not really. And not if she tells them what she told the hotel staff, too. You ran off with a younger model, remember? She has her story all worked out if anyone asks. I’m sorry, Ronnie. Truly, I am.’

  As I watched the hope fall from his face to be replaced with despair, I felt pretty awful. Nobody liked being the bearer of bad news, and I unwillingly took up that mantle a lot more than I would’ve appreciated. That was something rarely understood by lucies. Yeah, it wasn’t great for them, but it was even worse for me. I had to deal with the burden after they left. They assume I can go through their trauma with them and wave them off into the sunset without a care in the world. Not so. I am a human, and I have enough baggage of my own to deal with. Still, I keep on adding to the pile, because I’m just so nice.

  Or, I was a pushover and let people walk all over me.

  Already I could see Ronnie’s rage directed at me. Like any of this was my fault! I was the one trying to help him here. And what did I get? A dead body at my door. I don’t know why I bothered. After the recent Tommy fiasco, I’d planned to spend the rest of my life ignoring lucies. Speaking to George was supposed to be a one-time thing, but he didn’t look ready to leave any time soon. So, looks like I was stuck doing something I didn’t like for the rest of my days.

  Ugh. Who said teenage years were the best?

  I stole a glance at Ronnie. He’d been quiet for long enough now, surely he’d have dealt with it. His rage had melted into forlornness. Denial, anger, a little bargaining, some depression. Almost there.

  Finally, he looked up at me, resolute. He’d come to peace with it. I set my face to apologetic when he spoke first.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Ronnie...’ I groaned. So close, and yet so far.

  ‘I am not letting that bitch take my life and my money. I am going to follow her nonstop until I find something. I swear, I will not let her get away with this.’

  ‘But-’

  But he was already flying out the door. Sighing, I turned to a silent George to see what he had to say. No doubt it was something I wouldn’t like.

  ‘You were rude.’

  Well, what do you know?

  ‘He has to know. I’m not a superhero. There’s only so much one person can do. Sometimes, that’s not a lot.’

  ‘But you know who killed him,’ he exclaimed, bright-eyed and full of hope as ever. It was getting tiring.

  ‘I know who killed a lot of people, and that’s all I know. I swear, I think a third of prisons are full of innocents.’

  ‘And you’re letting them fester in there, knowing they’re innocent?’

  ‘Alright,’ I snapped, folding my arms, ‘what do you suggest I do about it?’

  It’s like lucies forgot how the world worked, or something. It wasn’t great, but it’s what we had. Innocent people went to prison and guilty people went free sometimes. Some people never got their comeuppance and others got nothing but. None of that changed because they were dead.

  As I stared him out, I guess he eventually realized it, too.

  ‘There has to be something you can do,’ he said, frustrated. Hey, I felt the same sometimes. Nothing like having a gift you can’t use.

  ‘Not a one thing,’ I told him, reaching for the hotel landline. I called down for room service, giving him the chance to come up with some amazing, never-before-seen idea. Alas, he remained quiet.

  ‘Maybe you could start a detective agency,’ he said slowly, sounding it out.

  ‘All my clients would be dead,’ I reminded him. ‘And I’m absolutely crap at detecting, anyway.’

  ‘I bet you could do a course of some sort,’ he said, getting pepped up. ‘And Mickey and Ally could work with you. She could do all the legal stuff and he could take care of the internet side of things. You’d be the literal medium. All you’d have to do is listen to the lucies.’

  ‘You should sell that to HBO.’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘So am I. Could make a killing.’

  He started with the puppy-dog eyes again and I had to stop my own from rolling.

  ‘You don’t want to help anybody at all, do you?’

  ‘What about what I want?’ I countered.

  ‘You don’t want anything.’

  ‘Exactly. And I’m fine with that. So, why don’t you get to grips with that,’ I called over my shoulder as there was a knock on the door.

  I received my bacon pancakes without any fuss or unwanted bodies as a side gift. At least I still only had the one to deal with.
Admittedly, one more than I’d hoped for, but whatever.

  ‘If you really want to help people, help me. What do I do with Jorge?’ I asked, mouthful of dough.

  ‘Call the cops,’ he said, eyes resentfully on me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was eating or because of me in general.

  ‘You told me not to, remember?’

  ‘I changed my mind. I can’t even smell it,’ he added softly.

  I nearly choked on my breakfast before I understood.

  ‘Look on the bright side. You can’t smell him, either. And he’s starting to,’ I realized, putting down my fork and balking.

  ‘Maybe I should call the cops.’

  I picked up my cell and dialed before I could chicken out again.

  ‘What are you going to say?’ he asked, right as the operator picked up.

  ‘There’s a dead body in my hotel room,’ I told them both. That ought to do it.

  18

  I was assured by the calm and collected operator that police were en-route. Thanking her and hanging up, I grabbed my laptop off the nightstand and started booking my flight back to Ohio. With any luck, I’d be home tonight. Ronnie knew where I lived if and when he discovered anything usable against his wife. I was about to hit the pay button when I noticed George staring at me.

  ‘What?’ I asked, full of dread.

  ‘I meant, what’s your story to the cops?’

  ‘Oh. Uh...’

  I probably should’ve thought about that before I called. Or before the police promptly came and knocked on my door, announcing their presence at the same time.

  ‘That was fast,’ I whispered, suddenly feeling anxious.

  ‘You practically admitted a murder, remember?’ George said, popping his head through the door. ‘Don’t worry, you got a plain-clothes and a regular cop. Nothing big yet.’

  I opened the door to confirm.

  ‘Hi,’ I greeted lamely.

  ‘Ma’am, we’ve had a report of a body at this location,’ the older one said, both flashing their badges.

  ‘Yeah, I made the call. Come in,’ I said, standing back. They both looked pointedly at the barely ajar door.

  ‘He’s behind it.’

  They instantly looked at me.

  ‘I didn’t kill him.’

  This wasn’t going well.

  ‘I had a knock on my door at about 2am. I opened it, and there was a dead body outside. I got scared so I, uh, dragged it in,’ I explained, internally groaning. George was right. That did sound dubious. ‘And I’ve been terrified ever since.’

  They shared a look, for some unfathomable reason unconvinced.

  ‘May we come in?’

  I needed the brief respite to gather my thoughts. Catching sight of George, he didn’t seem too hopeful either. Alright, my story wasn’t convincing, but it was the truth. I was pretty sure CCTV would confirm most of it anyway. It’d all get sorted out. Maybe.

  The one I presumed to be a detective came in first. He was wearing an ill-fitting navy suit and blue shirt, with scuffed black shoes. I guessed he was around fifty years of age, or less if he’d had a hard life. His dark hair was balding in places. He didn’t seem friendly.

  Yay.

  The cop looked about five years older than me, or possibly ten. I wasn’t great with guessing ages. Luckily I was single, or that particular trait could’ve gone horribly wrong for me.

  I stood by the bed and waited for them to close the door and continue the friendly chat. They did neither. Instead the cop knelt down to Jorge and checked for a pulse under the towel. I refrained from mentioning the blindingly obvious.

  ‘Call it in,’ the detective instructed the young one. He did. I realized I’d forgotten their names.

  ‘Who did you say you were again?’ I asked, instantaneously gaining their attention. I cringed back and almost bumped into the bedpost.

  ‘Detective Frank Taylor and Officer Jamal Stanford. And you are?’ Taylor asked, whipping out a notebook.

  ‘Uh...’

  Not the response they were expecting. Not the one I was expecting to give, either. I acted fast.

  ‘Brianna Mendes. My dad doesn’t know I’m here,’ I explained, beginning with the truth. ‘We had a falling out over his new girlfriend, so I had to get away from it all. Give us both some space, you know?’

  As soon as I mentioned my father, their eyes narrowed.

  ‘How old are you, ma’am?’

  ‘Seventeen.’

  ‘And you’re here alone? No adult with you?’

  ‘No. That’s not illegal, though,’ I felt the need to inform them arrogantly. I immediately regretted antagonizing them.

  ‘Nice job, you’ll be in jail in no time,’ George sighed from across the room. I glared at him.

  Taylor noticed my sudden stare into thin air and followed my eyes, seeing absolutely nothing. George waved all the same.

  ‘Of course,’ Taylor said slowly, returning his eyes to mine, albeit confusedly. ‘We may have to-’

  ‘Frank? You’ll want to see this,’ Stanford interrupted nervously. Taylor marched over as I watched, on guard. The beat cop was looking at Jorge’s wallet, and, I assumed, his ID. If they knew his name, that wasn’t exactly a good sign. Maybe I was right, and Jose did know him. Maybe I’d get even luckier and they’d tie this to Angela, solving all my problems. That’d be swell.

  Except, Taylor didn’t react how I thought he would. He paled, actually looked a little ill. Stanford put a comforting hand on the detective’s shoulder, and I sought out George. Something wasn’t right. He shrugged, wondering the same.

  Letting out a deep sigh, Taylor stood and faced me, but his hostility seemed to have disappeared. Whatever he’d seen that I’d missed had hit him hard.

  ‘Did you see anyone when you opened the door last night?’

  ‘No,’ I told him honestly. ‘I really don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve only been here a couple days. All I’ve done is sunbathed and shopped.’

  He nodded, but he was barely listening. All three of us could see that. Concerned, his colleague abandoned the body briefly to come over to him.

  ‘Frank?’

  Taylor started, came out of his stupor.

  ‘I think we’ve got all we need for now,’ he said, the epitome of professionalism. ‘Your room, however, is a crime scene, so-’

  ‘Yeah, I’m out of here. Literally about to take my suitcase and switch rooms, if not hotels.’

  ‘You haven’t unpacked?’ Stanford asked, suspicious.

  ‘No, I didn’t bring much. Didn’t see the point. I’m sorry, is there a problem with that?’

  He started to say something, but Taylor held a hand to silence him.

  ‘Leave it, J. She’s only a stupid kid. She’s got nothing to do with this.’

  George burst into laughter and I couldn’t help staring at him. Again, Taylor noticed.

  ‘What are you looking at?’

  ‘I saw a pigeon,’ I randomly said, validating his point, I guess. He didn’t seem to be overly convinced by that, and Stanford definitely thought I was up to something. Luckily, the forensic team arrived so I grabbed my cell and suitcase and left quickly, avoiding looking at Jorge. I never wanted to see that guy again, dead or alive.

  ‘So, obviously they know him. What do you reckon? Serial killer?’ George asked as I headed for the lobby. Sharing the elevator with a couple other people, I didn’t acknowledge him.

  ‘Could be drugs. Maybe he was a pimp. Are there pimps in Miami? It’s the first time I’ve ever been here. Got to admit, it hasn’t impressed me. I don’t think I’ll be coming back. I mean, it’s probably not going to affect their tourist industry much, what with me being dead and all,’ he went on, apparently oblivious to the fact that I was outright ignoring him. I checked the floor marker and bit back a sigh. Why did I have to stay in the biggest hotel on the East Coast, on the highest floor? I had nine floors to go and George was still burbling to himself. I snuck a look at my travelling buddies
, wondering, like I always did, how they didn’t notice a lucy. He was right there! In their faces, waving his arms and talking loudly. At the very least, they should have felt a breeze or seen a glimmer. They should’ve noticed something off in the air.

  But nobody ever did. And then, I’d always wonder if my dad, my therapists, and all my peers were right, and I was crazy. A tiny part of me was always questioning my sanity anyway. Apart from the lucy thing, I was totally normal. I hadn’t yet discovered a reason for this, if there was one. Maybe I’d glitched at birth. Maybe that’s why my momma ran away. Nothing to do with depression at all, just fear.

  ‘And that’s why I think Jorge is a zookeeper,’ George announced, bringing me out of my reverie.

  ‘A zookeeper?’ I parroted, baffled. The couple in the elevator jumped and stared at me.

  ‘Ha! I knew you weren’t listening,’ George cried, bursting into laughter.

  I gritted my teeth. The two people were still staring.

  ‘I, um- whatever,’ I groaned, strolling through the doors that finally, magically opened. George trailed after me, somehow managing to stay upright as he laughed himself into oblivion. I refused to look at him after the betrayal, but I heard him laughing even harder.

  ‘They were so confused they didn’t even get off. They’ve gone back up,’ he snorted, crawling on the floor.

  ‘I hate you,’ I managed to hiss at him before reaching the lobby.

  The receptionist found me a better room at no extra charge, and apologized profusely for the “unfortunate incident.” I smiled at her and took my new key, grumbling as I realized I had to go back up. Screw it, I’d take the stairs.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ George wheezed, sounding the opposite. ‘Really, I am. But that was so...’

  So what? I never found out. He morphed into a donkey, braying on all fours. Great, now I was a zookeeper. My migraine was coming back. I was so sick of today.

  ‘Why don’t you do something useful?’ I ordered him. ‘Go back to my old room and find out who that guy is. I need to know if I should keep watching my back or not.’

  Unable to reply, he headed back to the elevator. I doubted I’d see him any time soon.

  At least I’d have some peace. I needed it after the eight flights of stairs.