Page 17 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

“It’s only gossip if you repeat it. Until then, it’s gathering information.”

—Mercedes Lackey, Intrigues

I didn’t fall asleep until nearly dawn and woke up after eight. My first thought was Diana Harden and her book—should I give

it to the police? What could they do with it if I did? Would they even believe my theory that it had once belonged to Diana

and that she might have been blackmailing people on the island? Last night, it had seemed the most plausible explanation...

in the light of morning, it sounded foolish and paranoid.

I needed to think more about this. I had a theory... and no way to prove it. I should work through all plausible answers

before I discussed it with anyone, even Jason, for a second opinion. I mean, it was sort of unreal to think that I, Mia Crawford,

found myself in the middle of a murder mystery.

A not-so-little thrill ran through me. I had the book. I could figure out what Diana was up to. I wondered if...

Breakfast.

I was late to breakfast with cigar-smoking Luis. I felt awful. Not just because I detested being late for anything, but because

he was expecting me and probably thought I’d bailed on him.

I jumped out of bed, brushed my teeth, quickly pulled my hair into a messy bun, and slipped on shorts and a tank top before

half running to the Blue Dahlia for crepes.

Before looking for Luis, I glanced to the bar, hoping to see Jason.

He wasn’t there. A pretty woman in her early twenties with caramel skin and sun-bleached hair was busy prepping the bar. Doug

was drinking a Bloody Mary at the bar with one of his friends, their spouses nowhere in sight.

Of course Jason wasn’t working; he’d worked last night. He had to sleep sometime.

I spotted Luis at a table drinking coffee from an oversized mug and staring out at the ocean. I sat down across from him.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said.

He turned to smile at me. “I heard you had a busy night.” He flipped a second mug over and poured me coffee from the carafe

on the table. The smell made my taste buds leap with joy.

Did everyone know about what happened? Did they know I had walked back to the resort in my pink underwear? I supposed my state

of undress was a minor point of gossip considering the dead body on the beach.

“It was eventful,” I murmured.

“Go get your breakfast before the chef closes up. He’s stubborn, won’t stay open a minute past nine. I’m ready for a mimosa.

What would you like? I recommend the pineapple or guava. Both mmm.” He closed his eyes and kissed his fingers.

“Pineapple, thank you.”

The chef was indeed grumpy. I couldn’t make up my mind, so asked for one of each crepe. Strawberry, mango, chocolate, blueberry,

and a ham and cheese. He looked at me as if wasting food was the greatest sin, so I said defensively, “I’m starving, and they

smell so good.”

Both statements were true, and I gave him my best smile.

He didn’t smile back. He prepared the five crepes with quick, sure hands, sprinkling powdered sugar and fresh whipped cream

on the chocolate, pureed fruit over the fruit crepes, and a sprinkling of cheese and onion over the ham and cheese.

I thanked him profusely, then went back to the beachside table where Luis had returned with the mimosas.

Luis smiled and held up his flute. “To new friends,” he toasted.

I clinked his glass, sipped, then dug into the crepes.

“Oh. My. God,” I said through a mouth full of blueberry crepe.

I spent the next five minutes in silence. I really was famished, and Luis didn’t seem to mind that I was stuffing my face.

I followed Luis’s gaze to the beach. The ocean was mesmerizing. The water rolling in and out, clear near the shoreline, bluer

and more vibrant farther out.

Nelson and Anja Stockton were walking hand in hand, just out of reach of the water. They each wore hats to protect from the

sun, and Anja rocked a long animal-print skirt and loose blouse. Her jewelry sparkled in the morning sun. Diamonds at dawn,

I thought with a half smile. Wholly impractical and flashy, but for some reason, Anja was able to pull it off.

Far down the beach, two families with kids played, the occasional squeal of happiness reaching my ears. Near where I sat yesterday,

a yoga class was wrapping up, six women facing a super-fit male instructor all in white. Hmm... I really needed to make time for yoga on the beach.

“Okay,” I said after I had eaten most of the fruit crepes, “I need to slow down. You’re right, these are amazing. Would he

give me the recipe?” I was a decent cook. I just didn’t have anyone to cook for. A brunch might be fun. Invite Jane and Amanda

to my place, tell them all about my trip—the lagoon and finding the dead body would definitely be the highlight—and make these

crepes.

“No,” Luis said with a chuckle. “He’s prickly. But I will get it for you.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He laughed at my comment, which seemed odd, but Luis wasn’t the usual guest here. I wondered if he was the father of one of

the employees, remembering what Henry said about employee housing on the south side of the dock.

I heard rather than saw CeeCee walk in and squeal as the crepe stand was being carted away. “Oh, Trevor! We missed the crepes!”

I glanced over as CeeCee rushed the angry chef. “Are you sure you couldn’t just make a couple of your yummy crepes for me ?” She batted her eyes and smiled hopefully.

The chef started yelling in a language that sounded like French. He pushed his cart out of the Blue Dahlia while continuing

to rant.

“Oh, Trevor, I’m so sad,” CeeCee said. Then she saw me and waved. “Mia! Hi, Mia, remember me from yesterday?”

“CeeCee,” Trevor said quietly—but loud enough for me to hear, “you’re shouting.”

CeeCee kissed him on the cheek, then ran over to me.

“Would you like one of my crepes?” I said. “I’m stuffed.” Which was true.

“You’re so sweet. But we’ll go to the restaurant.” She glanced over her shoulder. Trevor was talking to the bartender and didn’t look

happy. The few times I’d seen him, he had never smiled.

CeeCee plucked a strawberry off my plate and ate it. Normally, such an act would annoy me, but with CeeCee, I didn’t care.

Maybe because I felt a bit sorry for her. She seemed so clueless about what an asshole her boyfriend was to her. Plus I had offered her a crepe.

I was about to introduce CeeCee to Luis when she sighed dramatically. “I love this bar and how it just opens up to the beach and everything !” She spread her arms wide, closed her eyes, and smiled up at the sun.

A comment from the margins of Diana’s book popped into my head.

Why do unhappily married men always go for bimbos?

I’d stayed up way too late last night reading Diana Harden’s cryptic notes. And they might not mean anything. She could have

simply been catty and bored waiting for her girlfriend. She probably wasn’t talking about Trevor and CeeCee.

But she could have been.

“CeeCee, let’s go,” Trevor said from the bar. He looked pointedly at his watch. “I have a conference call in ninety minutes.”

“Mia,” CeeCee said, “do you want to go on a hike with me this afternoon to the top of the mountain?” She pointed vaguely north.

“Trevor will be in meetings all day . It’s not a difficult trail, but it would be fun, and the pictures I saw are so pretty .”

She looked... well, a bit too hopeful, as if expecting me to say no.

“Sure,” I said. “After lunch?”

CeeCee grinned widely. “One thirty. We’ll meet right here.” She patted the table. “Ta-ta!” She waved and walked off with Trevor.

I realized then that CeeCee hadn’t said anything to Luis. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I tried to introduce you, but...”

I didn’t finish what I planned to say because I didn’t want to be rude. “I think that’s just how she is. I don’t think she

meant to offend you.”

“No offense taken,” he said with that knowing half smile again. “People see what they want to see. You see quite a bit.”

Luis’s comment was cryptic, but maybe that’s just the way he talked. I preferred cryptic Luis over melodramatic CeeCee.

“Not enough,” I said, thinking about how I’d “saved” the honeymooners in the ocean. I finished my mimosa and leaned back in

the comfortable chair. I couldn’t eat the last few bites of crepe. I didn’t know if I’d be able to eat for the rest of the

day.

“How are you doing after last night’s grisly discovery?” Luis asked kindly.

“Okay,” I said. “It feels surreal now. Had you met her? The guest who went missing. Who, um, died.” I hoped I didn’t sound

too nosy.

He turned to me, eyebrow raised, as if he knew there was more to my question than vague curiosity.

“I saw her several times,” he said. “When you’re old like me, people tend to not really see you.”

That made me sad, though Luis didn’t go out of his way to be noticed. Maybe he liked being invisible.

“Do you think her death was an accident?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“But you must have an idea.”

Did I sound overly eager?

“I mean,” I continued quickly, “it seems suspicious that she goes to St. John and no one sees her for more than two days,

and then she washes up on the beach of St. Claire. It’s too far for a body to float that fast without, um, a lot of damage.”

He must think I’m completely morbid. Yet he seemed to consider my words, then said, “You’re right.” But he didn’t elaborate,

and I felt awkward continuing to pump him for information.

I sipped my coffee and poured more from the carafe to heat it up. Here I was, having a conversation with a man older than

my Grams about a possible murder.

“How long have you lived on the island?” I asked, changing the subject.

He pondered. “A few years now.”

“Do you work here?” That seemed unrealistic, considering his age.

He smiled. “I help when I can, doing this and that, but no one expects me to work.”

“It must be nice to live here for your retirement,” I said wistfully. I thought about my own retirement plans. By fifty-five,