Beach Blanket Homicide

by Maria Geraci

  “How are the new parents doing?” Viola asks.

  "This isn't their first rodeo," Sarah says, referring to the fact that Mimi and her husband, Zeke Grant, the town's police chief, already have a college-age daughter and a son in middle school, "but it's a bit of a shocker having two at once."

  “I’ll say.” Gus sets down his coffee. “Good thing we voted to let Zeke hire extra help.” By we, I can only assume Gus is referring to himself and the rest of the city council.

  “Wait,” says Betty Jean. “Are you telling me there’s a new cop in town?”

  “Yep. Officer Travis Fontaine. Good guy. Comes to us from Texas. He started this morning.”

  Betty Jean smirks, and since we all know the way her mind works, we cringe. “Texas, huh?”

  Gus nods. "Dallas area. Lots of big city experience. We're lucky to get him. His dad retired here a few months ago. Travis is his only kin."

  “James Fontaine,” Sebastian adds. “New parishioner.”

  “Good for Zeke,” Viola says. “That’ll give him more time to spend with Mimi and the babies.” She smiles at me. “Lucy, who will you be dressing up as tomorrow?”

  “Annette Funicello.”

  Viola is too polite to say you too? Instead, she says, “I can’t wait to see your costume.”

  “How about you?” I ask my brother. “Are you going to enter the contest?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Probably not.”

  The little hairs on the back of my neck start to tingle.

  Sebastian has the worst tell in the world. He does this funny thing with his right eye that he’s not aware of. But there it is. He’s absolutely going in costume. Why he’s trying to hide it from me, I have no idea.

  I smirk. “You should. The prize is a hundred bucks.”

  He gauges my reaction and sighs because he knows he’s gotten caught.

  Sebastian knows all about my little “gift,” but he has no idea just how talented I am. It’s something I try not to talk about. Even with him.

  Everyone begins talking about the big grand opening of the rec center tomorrow, and what they’re wearing for the costume contest, but I can’t help but be distracted by the pensive look on my brother’s face.

  Something isn’t right.

  And that something has to do with Abby Delgado.

  Chapter Two

  I stare at myself in the mirror and cringe.

  My hair looks like:

  A) A grenade has gone off inside my head and it didn’t have anywhere else to go but straight up.

  B) Like it belongs to a character from a Dr. Seuss book.

  Or

  C) Both.

  I choose C.

  Last week when I was putting together my outfit for the celebration, I needed some visual inspiration, so I rented the old sixties movie Beach Blanket Bingo, which is completely false advertising because not once do those wholesome horny teenagers ever play Bingo. I also use the word “teenager” loosely because I don’t think any of the actors were a day under thirty.

  To get my costume right, I asked Lauren Miller for advice. Lauren is married to Dr. Nate, one of the two practicing physicians in our town, and owns Baby Got Bump, the business next door to The Bistro. She designs retro maternity wear, but before that, she ran a retro boutique.

  She loaned me a lime green shift with a matching print scarf that I’ve tied around my neck. Because I’m going to be on my feet all day I opted for white tennis shoes and ankle socks. My dark shoulder-length hair was supposed to be styled to flip up on the ends ala Annette, but something went wrong. I must have gone overboard with the teasing because my hair is ginormous. It’s so big I don’t think I’ll be able to fit my head inside the minivan we use for the business.

  I’ve also used so much hairspray that I should probably be wearing a flammable warning label pinned to my chest. Good thing I did all my baking yesterday so I don’t have to go near a stove.

  My partner Sarah is completely rocking the Sandra Dee look with a crisp white sleeveless button-down blouse, jeans, ponytail and saddle oxfords.

  “You look fabulous!” Sarah squeals.

  I could look like a raccoon and Sarah would still think I look good because she’s the kind of person who always looks for the positive in any situation. “Thanks. So do you. Do you think my hair looks okay?”

  “Sure! Er, do you want me to try to flatten it some?”

  Obviously, she too is afraid that I won’t fit into the minivan.

  Sarah does her best to bring my hair down a few inches, but it’s like trying to move a hundred-pound rock. “How much hairspray did you use?”

  “I don’t know. Half a can maybe?”

  She giggles. “Lucy, have you ever used hairspray before in your life?”

  “Yes.”

  She looks dubious.

  “Okay,” I admit. “Just once. High school. Senior year prom.”

  She shrugs, then smiles. “No worries. You look fabulous. No one’s hair is going to look this terrific. You might just win the costume contest!”

  I’ve caught Sarah in a few fibs before, but this isn’t one of them. She honestly believes this, so I smile back at her.

  We load up the back of the minivan with over twenty-four dozen carefully packed muffins. There are six varieties—double chocolate chip, banana nut, blueberry (yawn), lemon poppy seed, oat bran (remember, we have a large retired population here in town) and my hands-down most popular ever—the apple walnut cream cheese muffin.

  I worked on perfecting the recipe for almost a year. It’s my signature muffin. Plus, it’s Will’s favorite, so it holds a special place in my heart. It’s also the recipe I used for my Muffin Wars audition tape, which, I’m kind of worried about now because if they pick me, I’ll have to bake something different, and not to brag or anything but I would totally win with the apple walnut cream cheese.

  We finish packing everything up then head to the rec center. The sun peeks over the horizon, throwing an orange haze over the crystal-clear blue water of the Gulf of Mexico. It’s early November and sixty degrees, with a projected high of only seventy-four. A beautiful north Florida fall day, perfect to celebrate the town’s new state of the art recreational center. There’s an indoor and outdoor basketball court, two swimming pools, tennis courts, classrooms and my favorite feature, a humongous gourmet kitchen. Sarah and I have already been approached about teaching cooking classes. I’m also thinking of heading up a community garden.

  Even though it’s barely seven a.m. and the festivities don’t start for another two hours, the place is swarming. The Gray Flamingos are acting as event “hosts” and will be doing tours. Most of them are in costume, but a few of them are wearing their Gray Power T-shirts. There will be arts and crafts for the kiddies, free food and lots of fun.

  Heidi from Heidi’s Bakery is setting up her booth right next to ours. Her donuts are legendary. If you’re into donuts, that is.

  “Yoo-hoo!” Heidi waves and Sarah and I wave back. “Gorgeous day, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is!” says Sarah.

  Viola and Betty Jean come by to check out our booth. Betty Jean is wearing a black wig (which looks better than her regular hair), capris and ballet flats. “Look, Lucy! We’re both Annettes!”

  I try my best to smile. Great. Another Annette Funicello.

  Viola is wearing a dress with a cinch belt that flares at the hips. Her chin-length salt and pepper hair is teased and sprayed. She’s also wearing a pair of awesome cat style glasses with little rhinestones at the corners. “I’m going as a sixties school teacher. Believe it or not, I used to wear this back in the day.”

  Gus, who is dressed as a surfer dude (board shorts, Hawaiian shirt, and flip-flops), guides us to the back door of the building. He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. “We’re keeping the building locked till the tours start. Don’t want anyone jumping the gun and getting a peek inside till after the big ribbon-cutting ceremony.” He unlocks the door for us. “Never thought
this day would come, but here we are.”

  “What do you mean?” Sarah asks.

  “Between us, this building isn’t one hundred percent operational yet, but the city council didn’t want to delay the opening celebration since we’d advertised it so heavily.”

  I glance around. “Everything looks good to me.”

  “It’s nothing major. Just some details that need to be ironed out. Security cameras, temperature controls on the swimming pool, basketball equipment that hasn’t come in yet, that kind of stuff.”

  The door leads straight into the kitchen. Gus turns on the lights and helps us place two large industrial coffee makers onto a cart to take out to our food station. Besides doling out muffins, we’ll be making coffee.

  I catch Gus staring at my hair.

  “I know. It’s a kind of big.”

  “No, it looks great,” he says.

  Ouch. That was such a lie.

  We wheel the cart back to our food booth. Sarah and I finish setting up the muffins and start the coffee brewing. The volunteer crowd is getting bigger. Jenna Pantini, the city manager, comes by and checks out our display. “Oh my God, you brought the apple walnut cream cheese muffins!” She looks at them longingly, so I offer her one. “I really shouldn’t.” But she takes it anyway.

  Jenna goes off to check on the rest of the food vendors. Soon it’s nine a.m., and the celebration is underway. In no time the entire outdoor area is packed with people. I’ve seen at least a dozen Annettes and Frankies already. It looks like everyone in town got their cue from Beach Blanket Bingo.

  Sarah and I are giving out muffins and chit chatting with the locals when an entourage from the Sunshine Ghost Society comes sniffing up to our booth. They are minus Abby, which is a relief. After yesterday’s scene in The Bistro, I’m not anxious to run into her again. At least, not until Sebastian explains what’s going on between them.

  Phoebe Van Cleave is the head of their group and a real nutcase, but her brother Roger owns the local paper, and he’s a total sweetheart, so I try to be nice to her for his sake. She’s dressed as a hippie, which I must admit is a fun take on the whole sixties thing, even if it doesn’t exactly say beach movie.

  I check out the rest of the costumes, then do a double take when my gaze lands on Gloria Hightower. She’s the group medium, and according to Phoebe, she’s the best. Gloria’s naturally blonde hair has lots of gray, but today she’s wearing a black wig because of course, she, too, is dressed as Annette Funicello.

  “What a coincidence!” she says. “We’re both Annette!”

  I smile wearily. “Yeah, neat, huh? How do you like the festival so far?”

  “Oh, everything is just wonderful.” Gloria looks over at the main rec center building with shiny eyes. “I can’t wait till the tours begin. You know the site is haunted, don’t you?”

  “If there’s a ghost haunting the new building, then Gloria will feel it right away,” Phoebe says.

  Gloria blushes. “Well, not right away. But, I am pretty good, even if I say so myself.”

  “Have you heard from the people at Muffin Wars?” asks Victor Marino. He’s in his late sixties and recently retired from a forty-year career at the post office, and yes, he’s dressed as Frankie. He’s an Atlanta Braves fan (me too!), and he always leaves a nice chunk of change in my tip jar.

  “Not yet,” I admit.

  “You’ll get picked. And when you go on T.V., you need to make your mango coconut muffin. The judges will love it.”

  I wish I felt as confident as Victor. The mango coconut muffin project is something I’ve been working on for the past couple of months. Victor was in The Bistro the day I gave out samples of version number three. Everyone raved about it, but it’s still not quite right, and I can’t put it on the menu until it’s perfect.

  “We’re all keeping our fingers crossed for you,” says Phoebe eyeing my muffin display. “They all look delicious! Which one should I try?”

  “For you? The oat bran.”

  The oat bran has been our least popular today, and we need to get rid of them. Plus, I’m sure Phoebe’s diet could use the extra roughage.

  Phoebe bites into her muffin and makes the yummy face. I offer the rest of her group muffins and they all jump on the boring blueberry.

  The morning goes by quickly. We’re down to just two muffins when an amused male voice asks, “What’s going on with your hair?”

  It's Will. And holy wow he looks good.

  He’s wearing a striped bathing suit and a white button-down shirt. His dark hair is slicked back, and he’s not wearing his glasses so when he smiles you can see the skin around his blue eyes crinkle, which is completely adorable. He told me a few days ago he’d be dressing as the James Darren character from the Gidget movies and he’s nailed it. Will puts the moon in Moondoggie like no one else.

  I try to act very cool. “So, you like my hair, huh?”

  He gives it a hard look. “You’re going to need help taking that thing down. You might even need a hammer.”

  Sarah sniffs. “I think Lucy looks great.”

  “So do I.” This comes from someone I don’t recognize. Except…

  Oh no.

  I try not to laugh. My brother is decked out from head to toe in leather and has a silly cap on his head. No wonder he didn’t want to talk about his costume.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re Eric Von Zipper.”

  “I saw the movie too,” Sebastian says dryly.

  In Beach Blanket Bingo Eric Von Zipper is the head of the motorcycle gang that doesn’t like the surfers. The fact that my brother, the priest, is going as a sixties beach movie villain is pretty funny.

  Sebastian aka Eric takes the last of the apple walnut cream cheese muffins, but I don’t begrudge him that because he’s my brother and I love him. Plus, he didn’t make fun of my hair.

  While we’re chatting, an older distinguished looking gentleman joins our group. “Hello, Father,” he says, nodding at Sebastian. Sebastian introduces him as James Fontaine, the new parishioner he’d mentioned yesterday at lunch. He just bought a house on Seville Street near Viola.

  “Call me Jim.” He shakes my hand with a firm grip. “Interesting festival. Very, uh, colorful costumes, too.” He’s a big guy, maybe six foot three with a full head of white hair and sparkly green eyes.

  I love green eyes. Green is the color of everything good—grass, lime flavored jelly beans, money… You get my drift. If he’s poking fun at my costume, I don’t mind, because, yes, I have to admit, my hair does look ridiculous.

  “Lucy makes the best muffins in the world,” Sebastian boasts. “She’s going to be on T.V. and everything.”

  I flush. I almost wish I’d kept the Muffin Wars thing to myself. What if I don’t make the cut? Then everyone in town will feel sorry for me, and I’d hate that. “The T.V. thing isn’t a done deal yet.” I hand Jim my card. “Sarah and I own a little café here in town. The Bistro by the Beach. First muffin is on the house.”

  He pockets the card and smiles at me, and something in my chest goes fuzzy warm because I know in that instant that Jim is going to become not just one of my favorite customers, but one of my favorite people. This is another gift I have. Call it my Spidey sense. I’m great at reading people and my first impression is always spot on.

  “Jim used to be a homicide detective with the Dallas Police,” says Sebastian.

  Will perks up. “Really?”

  “It’s a lot more boring than it sounds,” Jim says.

  “Jim is being modest. He’s worked on some really big cases and has even been on T.V. Maybe he can give you some pointers when you get picked to be on Muffin Wars, Lucy.”

  “What show were you on, Jim?” I ask.

  He shrugs like he’s embarrassed by all the attention we’re giving him. “America’s Most Vicious Criminals.”

  “Holy wow! Will and I watch that show all the time. What episode? I bet we’ve seen it.”

  Will is looking at Jim the
way I look at chocolate chip muffins. America’s Most Vicious Criminals is his favorite show. Every Friday night Will comes over to my place with a pizza from Tiny’s (best pizza in Whispering Bay), and we watch it together, but last night’s episode was a rerun, so we skipped our usual routine.

  Jim clears his throat. “I was the lead investigator in a case involving a nurse in the Dallas Fort Worth area who—”

  “The media referred to her as the Angel of Death,” Will supplies eagerly. “She killed six patients. About…fifteen years ago. Right?”

  How Will remembers every episode in such minute detail, I have no idea.

  “That’s right.” A shadow crosses Jim’s face. I don’t have Will’s memory for this stuff, but I’m pretty sure it’s one of those cases where they failed to apprehend the murderer.

  Before Jim can say anything else, Sebastian changes the subject. “I hear that your son has just joined our local police force.”

  “Travis is a good kid. Well, he’s thirty, so hardly a kid. Just moved out here this week. I guess he thought his old man needed some company in his retirement.”

  Jim’s casual words can’t hide the great love I feel this man has for his son. Personally, I think it’s really sweet of this Travis guy to move to be close to his father. Since Whispering Bay is such a small town and all the cops get their coffee at my café, I’ll meet him eventually. If he’s anything like Jim, I’m sure Travis and I will be great friends.

  “What made you retire in Whispering Bay?” I ask.

  “I came here on my honeymoon thirty-five years ago. My wife loved it. We always talked about moving here, but she passed last year.”

  I cringe. “I’m so sorry.”

  He smiles kindly. “Thank you.”

  Everyone murmurs words of condolences, but now that I’ve put my size eight sneaker into my mouth, the mood has soured. Sebastian and Jim excuse themselves to explore the rest of the food booths, leaving Sarah and me alone with Will.