Pelican Beach Murder Read online

  Meg glanced across the road to the house occupied by Echo and her boyfriend as she walked to the garbage can. She couldn’t see lights. The thought of spending the day without electricity in the heat and humidity was unbearable

  LaRue paced in the carport, waiting to go upstairs for her evening meal. Meg followed her to the stairs, where the cat glanced back at her. “I’m coming. For heaven’s sake, LaRue, if you don’t like my schedule, why don’t you get a job and buy your own food? No, I don’t suppose you’re going to do that, are you? So you’ll just have to put up with me.”

  When Meg opened the door, La Rue darted inside and stood on the runner in front of the sink, waiting for Meg to empty the packet of food into her bowl. She could almost see the smirk on LaRue’s cat face. “You’re a piece of work, but I love you anyway. Now what do you have to say to me?” Meg titled her head to listen. “That’s what I thought.”

  Meg sampled some of the chicken salad with crackers for dinner. She topped it off with a piece of chocolate and an apple and went to the deck to read a book.

  It wasn’t long before she heard a car coming down the drive. Meg peeked around the corner at the edge of the deck and looked down toward the base of the house. It was Echo’s minivan. She waited until the girl opened the car door before calling down to her. “Hey there, I don’t see any lights. Is the electricity still off?”

  “Oh, hey,” Echo said, glancing up toward Meg. “It’s been off all day. I just wanted to know if I could make a phone call. Our phones are dead, and the chargers do no good. We can’t plug them in.”

  “Sure, okay,” Meg agreed, starting down the stairs and pulling her phone from her pocket. She was a little leery of Echo, not sure she wanted her to feel comfortable coming up the stairs. “You must’ve been toasty today with no air conditioning.”

  “That wasn’t such a big deal. The air conditioning only works half the time in Leon’s trailer, so I’m used to the heat. We have things to do and need the electricity. Leon thinks someone might’ve turned it off.” Echo pushed her hair out of her face. Her forehead gleamed with sweat, and strands of hair were plastered to her cheeks. She accepted Meg’s phone. “Thanks,” she said, walking away from Meg to the light at the corner of the house. It made Meg nervous that Echo was walking away with her phone, and she was startled by the feeling. It was one of those intuitions she paid attention to, but she wasn’t sure what to do.

  Echo’s face had a few lines Meg hadn’t noticed before. The woman was probably older than she originally calculated, maybe in her late thirties. Her hair and dress were youthful and there was an immaturity about her, but Meg thought it was more crudeness than inexperience.

  Meg sat on the third step and waited. It was a long wait as far as phone conversations went. Echo raised her voice a couple of times and then lowered it again, glancing over her shoulder at Meg.

  Echo threw her head back, grumbling. “It’s always something. I can’t ever get a break. I guess we’re going to have to pack up and leave. We can’t do anything without electricity.”

  “Are you doing some remodeling over there or something?” She stood as Echo offered her the phone.

  “Uh, yeah, you could call it that. But nothing happens without juice, ya know?” Echo was chewing gum with an open mouth.

  “Yes, we take it for granted. So you’ll leave tonight?” Meg asked, hoping it might happen.

  “I don’t know,” Echo sighed. “I guess it’s up to Leon. He’ll be pissed.”

  “I’m sorry for your inconvenience. Did you talk with the owner of the house?”

  “He’s dead. That’s why Uncle Bob suggested this place. There’s no free lunch. That’s what my mother used to say, and she was right. Every time I think we’re getting a little ahead, bam, something like this happens.”

  Meg turned to go up the stairs, hoping it would encourage Echo to return to her car. “You have a safe trip home, Echo. Maybe you can alert someone the electricity was turned off and come back again later. It was nice to meet you.” She continued to climb the stairs.

  “You have any cigarettes up there?” Echo called after her.

  “No, I don’t smoke.” Meg looked down at the woman. Echo turned and walked toward her car. Meg watched her until the car was almost to the highway, breathing a sigh of relief before continuing up the stairs. She didn’t like the intrusion, and she wasn’t sure she could trust Echo and Leon.

  Why would anyone come to a house without checking with the owners to make sure it would be habitable? Something wasn’t right about it. Why would they be working on a house that didn’t belong to them and the owner was dead?

  It’s not your business. Release it, Meg, or it’ll keep you up all night.

  She prepared for bed and turned off the living area lights, then stood at the French doors, looking out toward the gulf. The moon reflecting off the water was ripples of silver floating in navy blue. Raising the shades in the bedroom so she could see the water from the bed, she turned on the ceiling fan and propped herself up in a comfortable position. Taking deep breaths to relax her body, Meg focused on releasing everything from her mind, making it a blank slate. Marsha the medium at the Dickens Christmas Carnival, had suggested she do that to open herself to communication with her “higher self,” but she seldom remembered to practice the exercises.

  As Meg breathed in, she was aware of the texture of the sheets. She had washed them and dried them on the line strung at the side of the house, leaving them caressed by the sea breeze and the warmth of a generous sun. She couldn’t make her mind blank for thinking about the fact there was no substitute for line-dried linens.

  Once she accepted the comfort of her bedding, Meg felt herself let go.

  It was surprising how easily she slipped into the relaxation. She saw fleeting images: tin foil, the letter M, candles with a sunset background, a pink bonnet, gulls gliding in a circle high above the sea grass where she usually spotted the crane at dusk, Jean in a jaunty fedora….

  Something startled Meg, something in her present surroundings, not her meditation. She sat up straight, gazing out to the water and the beach. She saw two figures in the distance, walking toward the surf.

  Meg left the comfort of the bed and went to the kitchen, the light from the moon adequate enough for her to see. Fetching the binoculars from the top of the refrigerator, she walked to the door and peered at the figures. It took her a couple of tries to get the focus and locate the moving bodies, but when she did, they were naked.

  Meg watched as they ran into the surf and dove, their heads disappearing underwater. She retraced across the beach to the dunes and saw two bicycles, flat against the sand. Meg’s eyes began to sting against the strain of focusing on the barely visible. She decided it was none of her business, but she placed the binoculars on the coffee table anyway, just in case she would need to do further investigation.

  It could’ve been anyone. A couple used to being secluded there might not know she could see them. Maybe they wouldn’t suspect she would look at them with binoculars. I didn’t see anything. There wasn’t anything to see. She scolded herself again for using Paul’s binoculars to spy on neighbors.

  Four

  AS USUAL, MEG was ready and waiting hours before the scheduled arrival of her best friend. Her anxiety kicked in, but there were only so many paces she could retrace in the small cottage. She could glance down the gritty road all morning, but Jean still wouldn’t arrive until early afternoon.

  Lifting the glass cover from the cake plateau, she added fresh mint around the base of the lemon cake, then turned the chicken salad out into a vintage green glass bowl, scooping it from the plastic Tupperware. She took a large, clear glass pitcher from the counter and poured the sugared fruit into it, wrapping the top with clear plastic and returning it to the refrigerator, ready to be filled with wine. She washed and dried the fancy crystal wineglasses and put them back on the open shelving. Taking the rounds of cheese and salami from the refrigerator, she cut them into bite size
s and skewered them onto decorative bamboo picks, lining them up strategically on a white plate and covering them with plastic wrap. Meg filled the Keurig reservoir with filtered water and double-checked to make sure the K-cups were placed top up in the small drawer beside the stove.

  She smoothed her hair, realizing she was out of chores. Everything was dusted, dried, swept, washed, tidied, and plumped. She could put her feet up, giving them no place to pace.

  Attempting to read, she sat in her favorite chair on the deck with a glass of tea. She found herself rereading paragraphs because she was losing focus. The only thing she could do, where thinking wouldn’t be a distraction, was crochet. She pulled more cord from her bag and began.

  A few hours later, with breaks for a walk on the beach and lunch, Meg had another pile of market bags in mustard, paprika, slate blue, sand, navy, ecru, and black. She even had a couple pieced in various colors from the remnants of skeins. The multicolored ones were Meg’s favorites.

  She took the stack of bags to her bedroom, putting them on top of the others on a chair she seldom sat in. After washing her longish hair in a quick shower, Meg put on a clean pair of shorts and a pink linen tunic. She sat in the breeze, allowing her hair to dry, then twisted it into a ponytail at her neck, securing it with a tortoise shell clip. The nail polish she painted on her fingers matched her tunic and toes.

  Meg surveyed the rooms again, looking in all the corners for any bugs turned belly up. Finding one behind the dresser in her room, she got a tissue and wadded it around the bug carcass, taking care not to get it stuck on her nails. Squeezing gently to trap the bug, Meg carried it at arm’s length in front of her to the trash. LaRue watched her, rolling over on her back, following Meg with her eyes.

  Finally, sitting on her perch on the deck just before midafternoon, Meg heard a car. She bounded from her chair, slipped into her shoes and headed down the stairs to greet Jean. LaRue remained in her shady spot.

  “I’m so glad you two are finally here,” Meg said. “LaRue and I have been waiting all morning.”

  The two women hugged before Jean allowed Gizmo out of the car, holding onto each other a little longer than normal. “He needs to take a walk and get a little water,” Jean said. “We’re so happy to be invited. This is lovely, Meg. A little secluded off the road. I like that. I had no trouble finding it, and of course, when I saw your car there under the house, I knew it must be your place.”

  They watched as Gizmo bounded back after exploring a dune. Meg picked him up and held him under one arm as she assisted Jean with a tote bag. “Jean, put your bags down under the deck there and pull your car into the shade. There’s plenty of space for both vehicles.”

  Meg talked to Gizmo while Jean moved the car, telling him he would have a chance to explore all the smells of the beach later.

  Jean unpacked her things, got Gizmo’s kennel situated, and joined Meg on the deck for cake and afternoon coffee.

  “It’s not cocktail hour just yet,” Meg announced, “but it won’t be long. In the morning we’ll go to the market in Jamaica Beach, and we can drive to the west end of the island to explore. I haven’t been all the way to San Luis Pass yet.”

  “I could just sit here for days, Meg. I bet you’ve really been enjoying this. I see there’s a hot tub down there. Have you used it?”

  “Every evening since I’ve been here. Last night I didn’t bother with the heater. The water was nice and refreshing, and the moon just gets better every night. We’ll see it tonight while we sit there with some sangria.”

  “Sounds lovely. I can’t wait.” Jean glanced at Gizmo curled up in the shade not far from LaRue. “They don’t seem to mind each other.”

  “No, they don’t.” Meg turned to look at her cat. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen LaRue around a dog. I guess she’s Miss Get-Along-Go-Along,” she laughed. “That’s surprising, since she seems to barely tolerate me.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. She’s your familiar,” Jean said. “Giz is my partner in crime. We’re the odd couple, I guess.”

  Meg smiled as she watched Jean taking in the beach scene. She had tilted her head back, letting the breeze wash over her, barely ruffling her short cropped hair.

  “Speaking of crime,” Jean said, returning her focus to Meg, “I saw Dorie at the pharmacy yesterday afternoon. She said she’d had her check-up. She was getting her vitamin prescription filled. She looked great, by the way.”

  Meg was happy to hear Dorie looked healthy. She missed seeing her.

  “Anyway, she told me Geneva was escorted into the doctor’s office by a jail guard. Dorie saw her later as they were waiting to be weighed. Geneva told Dorie she’s pregnant, and they’re holding her in the county jail until an opening comes available in a unit where she can give birth and keep her baby with her. She told Dorie Hal’s the father.”

  “Oh my heavens. Those girls can’t get a break. I wonder about that situation with Hal. He was so manipulative with them, Geneva and Giselle, both. I didn’t know about this,” Meg said, wincing. The twins had been indicted for the murder of their stepmother, Lena Hillard. Lena’s body had been found by Meg prior to the Dickens homes tour, an annual holiday event chaired by Meg. The incident disrupted what was supposed to be an elegant viewing of Victorian homes decorated for Christmas. Eventually Giselle had given a confession, leading to Geneva’s arrest. The experience was why Meg was so close to Detective Crawford and Tom Richards.

  “I wonder if it’ll change her willingness to testify against Hal. That had been part of the plea deal. Hopefully his incarceration will keep him from interfering with any other young woman’s life.” Meg shook her head, thinking about the past few months and her interactions with the girls. She wanted their futures to be better. “I wonder how Geneva feels about the pregnancy. I mean, does she want to have a child? And Hal’s child at that?”

  “Dorie said she seemed to be okay. You know, Geneva never appeared happy. She was a little dark and moody, in my opinion.”

  “Yes, I thought so, too. Giselle seemed even more so. I’m just so sad for they had to go through what they did. Seems such an ordeal that could’ve been avoided. That moodiness has me concerned. It could turn that case upside down if she changes her mind.”

  “Wouldn’t the alternative be that she would break the deal and be prosecuted for murder?” Jean suggested.

  “I’m not sure how all that works, but I bet Tom and Crawford are scrambling to make sure Geneva will continue to be cooperative. It’s never a dull moment for them.”

  Jean nodded, swirling the cold coffee in her mug. “I don’t know about you, but I’m just happy to be retired.”

  “Amen,” Meg agreed. “Not a care in the world. Oh, speaking of that, guess what I saw last night?”

  “I know you saw the moon, but I can’t guess what else you might’ve seen,” Jean said, smiling. “Tell me.”

  “Well, I was propped up in my bed doing a little meditation—I’ve been practicing—when something drew me out of it and I glanced out the window. I saw figures down the beach. I got Paul’s binoculars, and when I finally got them focused, I saw two nude bodies running into the water.” Meg looked at Jean with raised brows and a crooked smile.

  Jean broke into a giggle. “Don’t tell me you’ve turned into the neighborhood snoop.”

  “It wasn’t planned, but I have used those binoculars a couple of times.”

  Jean had just confirmed Meg’s notion. I am the neighborhood snoop.

  “I almost forgot. This is perfect. I have something in the car I found when I was cleaning out Dusty’s closet. I’m converting that bedroom into my craft room. Just a minute, I’ll run get it.” Jean slipped on her shoes and bounced down the stairs. Gizmo roused from his nap and sat up, staring after her. He waited patiently until he saw the top of her head, then returned to his napping position.

  “What is that?” Meg asked, looking at the long case Jean held under her arm. “I hope it’s not a gun. You know how I feel
about guns.”

  “No, silly. It’s a telescope.”

  “I can’t believe it. I was just wishing for one. Honestly, Jean, I wished for one here.”

  “When I found it, I thought of you being here in this beach house. I always envision a telescope set up on a deck looking out at the water, spying ships, or birds, or naked people.”

  Meg rocked her head back and laughed. “We’ll put this to good use. Thank you for bringing it. I can’t believe it. I wished for it and here it arrives.”

  “Ask and you shall receive.” Jean smiled.

  Gizmo was anxious to accompany Meg and Jean for their walk on the beach while LaRue watched from the deck. The cat squeezed her eyes shut as they chattered and started down the stairs. Gizmo ran ahead, glancing back to check on them as they followed behind him. When they approached the spot where the crane stalked, Gizmo made a running attack, and the crane flapped long gray wings, flying to another spot. Jean called out to Gizmo, and he returned, looking up with brown, guilty eyes.

  The women sat in the hot tub with glasses of sangria and watched the silver light begin to brighten the horizon. Meg was awed by the size of the almost full moon. “It always seems to appear larger when it’s closer to the horizon for some reason, just like the setting sun. I’m sure there’s a reason for that, curvature or something.”

  On the upper deck, after washing Gizmo in the outdoor shower, Jean assembled the telescope while Meg prepared plates of chicken salad, salami, and cheese for a light dinner. She opened the door to the deck and said, “Actually, Jean, dinner is lemon pound cake. This is an appetizer.”

  “My favorite, second only to a chocolate bar.”

  “It’s so good to have you here and have a reason to bake a cake. I thoroughly enjoyed baking. The last time I made anything was all that cooking we did for Brian after Lena died. Actually, come to think of it, I cleaned out all the old stuff in my freezer,” Meg laughed.