Sun Scream

by Barbara Silkstone

  “Whoever is trying to kill Jaimie is part of your inner circle,” I said. “If you didn’t do this, someone is framing you. The party may be the best way to draw them out.”

  “Are you certain the battery is missing?” He reached for the plastic bag but Kal grabbed it first.

  “I put that battery in months ago. It was a tight fit. An inventor friend gave it to me to test. He’s always coming up with energy saving gadgets. Supposedly the test battery he gave me, an odd shade of bright blue, will last forever. Jaimie’s Lucky Elf burns through double-A’s. I thought I’d test the experimental battery by putting it in her opener. I never gave it a second thought. But like I said, that was months ago.”

  Chip stood. “If you’re done with me, I’m going to collect my wife and take her home. We’ll go through with the party if you think we should. Kal, is there any way you can attend tomorrow? I’d feel much better if we had police presence.”

  Kal nodded. “I won’t make myself known. The killer might not act if he sees me. I’ll be lurking in the shadows.” He stood. “You can go now. If you see anything suspicious call me.”

  “Chip!” I thought of something just as he was about to leave. “Where did Jaimie attend that mimosa brunch before she crashed through the door?”

  “She met my partner’s wife Muffy Tassel at the yacht club.” He hesitated. When we offered no further questions, he left.

  I put my finger to my lips to hush Kal. Chip had a knack for eavesdropping. He was visible through the glass door as he strode to his Jaguar. “Coast is clear.”

  “What do you think?” Kal said.

  “It’s too early to tell. He’d have to be the dumbest rich guy in Starfish Cove. Stupid runs in the nicest families.”

  “I talked to the dock master,” Kal said. “Chip did stop in his office yesterday looking for the assistant.”

  “So that part of his alibi holds up.” I reached in my purse for my phone. “I took a photo of Jaimie’s phone calls.” I pointed to the suspicious number. “This call came through around the time she was trapped in the tanning bed. The number matches the one that supposedly came from the dock master to Chip.”

  Kal rewarded me with a puzzled look.

  “Someone called Jaimie to make certain she couldn’t answer—hoping she was in the tanning bed.”

  “We traced the number,” Kal said. “It’s from a disposable phone.”

  Chapter 27

  I returned to the shop just after three. Sophia, Raelyn, and Fabio were gone. Lizzy would be closing for the day.

  Grams paced the shop floor pounding a fist into her palm, her fedora pushed back on her head, the ARMED BODYGUARD label about to fall from her hatband. “Chip took Jaimie home. I should be with her,” she growled. “She said she has to meet with Mel Rivers to go over his role as the butler.”

  No sense in engaging Grams. We’d been around that mulberry bush too many times. Jaimie was probably safe with her husband. I’d adjusted my suspect list giving Chip a twenty-five percent chance of being the killer. The remaining percentages I’d yet to assign.

  I found Lizzy in the backroom cleaning up after the luncheon. She stuffed fried fish paper plates in a black trash bag mashing them with a closed fist. I feared something had gone terribly wrong.

  “Is everything okay with Sophia?”

  “She’s fine. They’re fine. We’re all fine.” She folded a greasy paper plate and stuffed it into the bag with such force it split the plastic.

  “I had it out with Dave over the phone. He couldn’t have been any ruder when he delivered the fish.”

  “Why was he so curt?”

  “I’ve given up trying to figure him out. I’m giving him one more chance. He’s to come to the party tomorrow and act sociable or it’s over between us.” She knotted the top of the bag calming as she doubled knotted it. “How’d your profiling go with Chip?”

  I told her about his reaction to the missing battery. “He seems genuinely worried about Jaimie. She’s no longer the blonde who yelled wolf.”

  “We’ll be on our toes tomorrow at the party. Whoever it is will have to deal with the cold cream gals.” She hefted the bag onto to the table. “The cheesy olives are done and sitting in my freezer. I’ll bring them to you tonight.”

  “I’m going to stop at the yacht club and then head home. You can drop the olives off any time after five.”

  “What’s at the yacht club?”

  “The germ of a suspicion. I’ll let you know if it comes to anything.” I nodded toward the front room and lowered my voice, “You need any help with Grams?”

  Lizzy shrugged. “Not unless you have therapy words that will sedate her. She’s determined to earn an interview on Chick Chat by pinning this case—if it is a case— on Chip.”

  We shared a chuckle and then Lizzy waved me off.

  I gave my partner a mock salute and left the back room.

  “Bye, Grams,” I said, making a quick dash out the door.

  I needed time alone to think. As I headed down Starfish Boulevard, I shut off the car radio and let the events of the last few days wash over me in silence.

  Why would Chip want to kill Jaimie? Less than a year ago she was the one who wanted a divorce but he fought it. He even gave her voting shares in the construction company he had formed with Vann Tassel

  Ferocious about her freedom, could Jaimie be setting these accidents in order to frame Chip? Get rid of him and keep her share of Toast and Tassel Enterprises? The pieces of the puzzle were still spinning in my mind as I stopped beside the valet parking stand at the Starfish Cove Yacht Club.

  “Is Trey on duty?” I asked the valet. He leaned on the podium reading a paperback.

  “It’s his turn for the air conditioning.” He pointed over his shoulder. The sandy-haired young man waved from behind the tinted glass. Trey was my favorite valet, if there is such a thing.

  I entered the lobby and greeted him.

  “Can I help you, Ms. Peroni?”

  “Hope so. A few days ago Jaimie Toast was here for brunch. Any chance you parked her car?”

  “The red BMW, right? Yes. I parked it. It’s hard to forget that cherry-red car. The top was down so I put it under the canopy.”

  I gave him my best smile, flashing lots of teeth. “Did you notice a garage door opener anywhere on her console?”

  He chuckled. “You mean the nasty looking elf sticker? She does make a big deal out of it.” He mulled it over. “I’m pretty sure it was there that day. She usually keeps it in the change holder. Did she lose it?”

  “Anyone come near the car? Maybe look inside?”

  Trey tilted his head to the side. “Did someone steal the elf? It would be pretty low to take her good luck charm.”

  “Do you remember anyone lurking around the car?”

  “We can’t always keep an eye on everything, what with parking and delivering.” He rubbed his jaw. “I honestly can’t say for sure but I can ask around.”

  “That’s okay. Don’t make an issue of it.” I gave him a fiver and got back in my Prius.

  I stopped at the Nurses Are Us shop. They didn’t stock Medical Examiners’ uniforms so I bought their last pair of black scrubs and a white magic marker—my costume for the party.

  By the time I got home, lack of sleep had definitely taken hold. I brought the costume bag into my bedroom trying not to look at my oh-so-inviting bed.

  I unpackaged the top and bottom lifting Puff from the black fabric, once then once again. It seemed as if she rarely shed except when enticed by dark cloth. I quickly hung the top and bottom to remove the wrinkles. The white magic marker sat on my dressing table. Its package claimed it could write on any surface even black fabric.

  Time enough to test later. I lay down on the bed and fell into a deep sleep. It seemed as if I had only just dozed when I woke to my phone’s incessant tune. I glanced at the clock. Almost six. I tapped the phone to answer.

  “Where are you?” Lizzy said. “I’ve been ringing and
ringing. I’m standing outside your door with five hundred cheese-coated olives. Remember? Any time after five?”

  I scrambled out of bed and dashed to the door almost tripping over Puff.

  Lizzy stepped inside, carrying a baking tray with an orange lump the size of a bowling ball and covered in plastic. “It’s heavy. Careful.” She handed it to me. “It’s frozen.”

  “This is five hundred olives?” I wobbled to the kitchen and placed the tray on the counter.

  “I’m trusting you with my olives, Olive. Please don’t mess them up.”

  “Excuse me. You would think I was the world’s worst cook.”

  “Not the worst, but close. I have to run. Picking up Heather from her friend’s house.” Lizzy gave me a dubious look. “Remember…three-hundred and fifty oven temp and exactly fifteen minutes.”

  With a wink, she left, closing the door softly behind her.

  My freezer was empty aside from a small bag of butternut squash spirals and a bag of mixed veggies. I moved them aside and maneuvered the bowling ball into the icy compartment. The top just cleared, knocking off one cheese-coated olive.

  I studied the ugly orb. Three-fifty for fifteen minutes. What could go wrong?

  Chapter 28

  That night I dreamt I held Jaimie by the tips of her fingers as she dangled over a cliff. It didn’t take much to decipher the nightmare. I woke and fell asleep again. This time Jaimie was out at sea in a raft. I paddled after her, the water sticking to my face.

  I wiped my cheek, my fingers bumping into a warm, wet little tongue.

  I’d overslept and Puff was hungry. She slurped me again.

  Once the coffee was brewed I put kibble in a bowl and placed it next to my cup. A frown settled between my kitty’s big blue eyes. She was worried about me. And no wonder. I was about to eat her kibble.

  Emotionally drained from my anxiety-filled nightmares I wondered how I’d let myself get this topsy-turvy. I was schooled to put aside my patients’ problems—but Jaimie wasn’t a patient and this was more than just a problem.

  After two cups of coffee and two blueberry waffles with syrup, I was still foggy-brained and moving in slow motion. As I mulled over what I would wear, I remembered the black scrubs. I forgot to write Medical Examiner on the shirt with the marker.

  I planned on lettering it with the white goop last night so it had time to dry. The day was off to a bang-up start.

  The scrubs shirt was still wrinkled with fold marks when I took it off the hanger. I spread it out on the bathroom counter smoothing the back so I could letter it neatly.

  Jaimie’s mental state pricked at my mind as I shook the marker to mix the white ink. She was all bravado, but I’d witnessed the cracks in her façade. Tonight she would be bait for a killer. Would her nerves meet the challenge?

  I printed bold letters across the back of the shirt and stood back to admire my work. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’d written Mental Examiner instead of Medical Examiner. “Slow down, Olive.” I mumbled.

  Olive! I have to put the five hundred olives in the oven. I thought how uneasy Lizzy looked leaving me with her olive ball after all her hard work. I did have a reputation in the kitchen and it wasn’t stellar.

  I set the oven for three-fifty and went to brush my teeth. When I returned it dinged, announcing it had reached the magic temperature.

  I reached in the freezer. The cheesy olive ball wore a light dusting of frost. It resisted my first tug. The tray stuck to the freezer bottom. I yanked again, releasing it.

  Being oh-so-careful I placed the cheese ball, tray and all in the oven. I sat and watched the clock tick off exactly fifteen minutes. I wasn’t about to disappoint Lizzy.

  Time was up. I took Lizzy’s lump of olives from the oven. It resembled a bowling ball with warts. Some of the topside bumps were reddish brown—the others remained an odd shade of cheddar orange. How was it to be served?

  I stared at the nasty looking sphere. Why wrap each olive separately only to lump them all together? Oh well. Mine is not to question why—mine is just to bake the thing.

  As I finished pondering the mysteries of the olive ball, Kal called. “Hope you slept well. It’s going to be a tense day and night.”

  The master of understatements continued. “Two things. Thought you should know there was one other unidentified fingerprint on the Lucky Elf besides Jaimie’s, Chips, and yours.”

  “It doesn’t speak well of us that you have all our prints on record.” I ran my hand through my tangled hair. Still in my nightie and smelling like cheddar cheese, I listened as Kal informed me of his second thing. “I’m downstairs in the parking lot. I’ll be right up with a police whistle. Wear it during the party. I’ll be lurking outside. If something goes wrong, just whistle.”

  “You’re bringing it up now? Count to a thousand slowly before you get out of your car.”

  I dashed to the bathroom in a useless attempt to make myself presentable.

  Kal didn’t count to a thousand. Not even one hundred. When the bell chimed, I opened the door a crack and stuck my hand out hiding my face. “Thanks for the whistle.”

  He drew close to the door, placed the whistle in my hand, and whispered, “Are you being held hostage?” His tone was playful. “If you are just say…the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.”

  “Go away!” I chuckled. “See you at the party or maybe not.”

  “Be careful. Don’t trust anyone except me.”

  “And Lizzy.”

  Chapter 29

  With Kal’s whistle around my neck, a lumpy ball of cheese covered in tin foil in my hands, and my purse loaded with two cans of hair spray, I stood at the Toast’s front door waiting for someone to respond to my ring.

  A distinguished looking man in a butler’s coat and mismatched trousers opened the door. Bald and wearing thick Coke bottle glasses, he could only be Mel the actor from Grams’ community theater group.

  “You must be Miss Olive,” he stepped aside allowing me to enter and then extended his hands. “I can give your plate to the caterer.”

  “Where’s Mrs. Toast?” I passed the cheese plate to him.

  “She’s in her bedroom. She instructed me to practice my butlering. I’ll be with the caterers if you need me.”

  As I trotted up the stairs to find Jaimie, I ran into Chip heading down. I stopped and said, “Anything I need to know?”

  “Yes. I wish I never came up with this idea. Is there anything else Jaimie is keeping from me? If there is you’ve got to tell me.” He looked over his shoulder towards their bedroom door. “She admitted deliberately not telling me about the brakes being tampered with. If something happens to her because of my bright idea, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  I pulled Chip toward me so that our noses were inches apart. “You must have an inkling of who’s behind this.”

  “If I suspected anyone I would have told you and Kal.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom. “Please don’t leave her alone. I’d stay with her but I have to instruct the parking attendants and get someone to put up a cluster of green flags.” He checked his watch. “Three hours to go.”

  “What are you two confabbing about?” Grams swaggered from the foyer to the stairs. She wore a slinky—better described as a slunked—burgundy dress with a pink boa that left a trail of flaky feathers in her wake.

  “Just filling Olive in on the details—food, music, and of course the mystery.”

  Grams gave Chip a condescending smile. She’d made up her mind and was having none of his party plans.

  “The music is New Orleans style jazz. Jelly Roll Morton, Louis Armstrong and his Hot Five.” Looking down the staircase he pointed to tabloid newsprints and wanted posters of Al Capone, Bonnie and Clyde and other famous gangsters of that time period.

  “You went all out, didn’t you?” Grams flipped her boa over her shoulder and turned up her nose. “You’re not fooling anybody.”

  “Gotta go.” Chip sighed in frustra
tion. He stepped around Grams and dashed to the living room.

  “Our sweet victim is upstairs?” Grams said.

  “I don’t know about any sweet victim, but Jaimie’s in her bedroom.” I motioned for Grams to follow.

  “Come in.” Jaimie, dressed as a flapper in a cream-colored dress with bejeweled shoulder straps and fringed hem, greeted us. Her blonde hair was rolled up rather than cut in a bob.

  “Grams, thanks for Mel. He’s perfect. I gave him his cues—things to make him look suspicious. He aced the rehearsal.” She turned on me like a hungry wolf. “You brought Lizzy’s cheesy olives, right?”

  “Mel’s setting them out with the caterer’s food.”

  Jaimie wiggled her finger, directing me to turn around. “Olive, that outfit won’t due. You’re supposed to start out as a party guest and then change into the mental—medical examiner once I die.” She looked at me as if I were pranking her.

  “It’s a typo.”

  “We have to cover it up.” She dashed to her closet returning with a silky bed jacket.

  I put the jacket on over the Mental Examiner’s shirt. “I look ridiculous.”

  “Your name is Dr. Ripper, the local medical examiner and also a jazz fan. Chip will introduce you right after my death scene. Then you can take off the bed jacket and show the world your official shirt.”

  “Tell me again what we’re doing?” Grams rubbed her chin.

  “We’re pretending our house is your new jazz club, The Naughty Lady. Your name is Kate Barker. Your job is to circulate among the guests. Each time you see the butler do something wrong you call attention to it. He’s the red herring. I’m your daughter, Baby Face Barker.”

  “So, Lizzy kills you?”

  “She doesn’t kill me. She’s just the killer. Her play name is Billie French. She’s got it in for me because I stole her man. But you can’t let on.”

  If the would-be killer wasn’t hiding among the guests, the playacting would be fun. I felt for the police whistle hidden under my shirt. It was reassuring to know that Kal was just a whistle away.