6 Beach Blanket Barbie (13 page)

“Have you tried calling the auction house?” I asked.

“No, but I doubt they’d give me any information.”

“Perhaps, but it never hurts to try.”

Ellie returned with Levi’s burger. I spent the next twenty minutes trying to get through to the newspaper in the hope of gaining the name and phone number for the auction house that had placed the ad. After I’d spoken to the third person, I came away with the information I needed. Ellie gave Levi a slice of the chocolate sundae pie she’d made while I called the auction house. Luckily, someone answered. I tried to channel Bitzy Bellingham as I slipped into my upper-class accent, which was basically my own tinged with a blend of boredom and indifference.

“Finally,” I drawled
, even though the woman who answered the phone did so on the third ring. “I hope you can help me. I sent my idiot buyer’s agent to your little auction a few weeks ago to procure a specific item and the dolt came home with the wrong thing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman answered politely.

“I’m trying to track the item down and hoped you’d be a dear and provide me with the contact information for the person who bought it.”

“I’m really not at liberty to give out that information.”

“I’m sure. However, in this instance, I’m certain you can make an exception. You see, my elderly mum had her eye on it, and Mum has a way of getting what Mum wants. I’d be willing to pay the winning bidder three times the price he obtained it for, plus a nice finder’s fee for yourself, of course.”

The woman hesitated. I could
picture her greedy self punching it out with her moral self.

“The item number was C74-283.”

“Hang on.” The woman put me on hold. I hoped she was looking it up and not calling security.

Several minutes later
, she came back on the line. “The item in question was purchased by a retailer rather than a private buyer,” she informed me. “I tried to contact him—retailers often welcome a deal such as the one you’re offering—but he didn’t answer. The painting you’re looking for was purchased by an antiques shop near Ashton Falls. The name of the shop is One Man’s Trash. I have the address, if you’d like.

A painting
? “I’d appreciate it.”

The woman gave me the phone number and address
, which I realized was useless, now that the place had burned to the ground.

“The number on the fl
yer matched the item number for a painting,” I informed Levi.

“I thought Barbie tried to steal a clock
.”

“Maybe the clock was a diversion,” Ellie suggested.

“That makes no sense,” Levi argued.

“Maybe it does,” I s
aid. “What if Barbie was in the store to steal the painting? She hears Salinger come in the front and grabs the first thing she can find, pretending to be stealing it. If she was after the painting, her ploy would mislead whomever caught her. Maybe she stayed in town, figuring she’d try again later, but was killed before she could finish her mission.”

“
Or maybe she did get back in and was able to retrieve whatever it was she was after but was killed anyway,” Levi added.

“I don’t think so. Let’s look at the timeline. Barbie was photographed at the auction preview on Tuesday
, May 6th. We know this because the preview times were from three to five on May 6th, 7th, and 8th, but the deadline for placing the ad in the paper was noon on the seventh. The auction was held on Saturday, May 10th. I guess we can assume that Barbie was supposed to buy the painting. For some reason we don’t yet know, she failed to make the purchase. The new owner took the painting back to his shop. Barbie breaks in on Wednesday, May 14th, to steal the painting. Salinger sees the light and comes in through the front. Barbie picks up the clock and pretends to be stealing it.”

“
And Salinger escorts her out before she can get what she came for,” Ellie added.

“She called me on the morning of the 15
th,” Levi supplied. “Maybe after her evening with Salinger, she decided she’d had enough and wanted out of whatever it was she was into. She hoped I’d help her, but I blew her off and she ended up dead. God, I suck.”

I put my hand over Levi’s and gave it a squeeze. “She had to
have placed the ad shortly after she spoke to you to get it in the weekend edition,” I continued. “I guess we can suppose she put the flyer in the post office box that morning as well.”

“We saw her at the beach on Friday,” Ellie contributed. “She was there most of the day
, so we can assume she hadn’t as of yet completed the task she was in town for. It seems like if she’d accomplished her mission, she would have taken off rather than continued to hang around. What I don’t get is, if she was in trouble, why didn’t she go to someone else for help after Levi refused to meet with her? Courtney had helped her once before, and Serenity probably would have helped her out as well.”

“Maybe someone showed up after her failed attempt on Wednesday to keep an eye on things,” I suggested.

“Lifeguard guy,” Ellie speculated. “He didn’t leave her side all day, but they didn’t appear to be on intimate or even friendly terms.”

“How do you know th
at?” Levi asked.

Ellie blushed.
I was certain she wouldn’t want to admit she’d spent the day spying on Barbie.

“Ellie was working the pier that day,” I
said, diving in for the rescue. “I’m sure she can’t help but notice what’s going on down on the beach.”

“Yeah, okay, so this
man you both refer to as lifeguard guy was with her. Maybe he killed her.”

“Maybe he did,” I agreed.

“One Man’s Trash burned down this past Wednesday. I suppose that after Barbie was killed, someone else broke in to finish the job, then torched the place,” Ellie added.

“Okay. Say all of this is true
; how can this help us prove who killed Barbie?” Levi asked.

“
And there are a lot of other unanswered questions,” I pointed out.

“Like what?” Ellie asked.

“If lifeguard guy did kill Barbie, why kill her on the same beach where thousands of people had seen them together the entire day? Why not do the deed at another time or place where you wouldn’t be linked with the victim?”

“And it’s always bothered me that Barbie was found in the water near the pier in that expensive dress and three
-inch heels,” Levi added. “Someone must have lured her there. There is no way she’d intentionally dress that way to party at the lake. For one thing, it was cold. Too cold for that dress.”

“True. Barbie must have been elsewhere that evening. Maybe we can ask around and find out where,” I suggested.

“Yeah, and maybe we can find out who she was with,” Levi added.

“So what now?” Ellie asked. “Do we take this to Salinger?”

“Maybe we should,” I said.

“Do we really trust him?” Levi asked. “I mean
, in a way, he’s involved in this whole thing. What if he killed Barbie to protect his secret?”

“I’m not a huge fan of the guy
, but I doubt he’d actually kill anyone.”

“Zoe is right,” Ellie added. “I don’t think Salinger would go that far.”

“Personally, I don’t think I can sit in the same room with the man after what he did to Barbie,” Levi declared.

“I’ll stop by
Salinger’s office on my way to book club,” I offered, “which I’m going to be late to if I don’t get going.”

“Yeah, I need to get going too,” Ellie added. “Rob and I have a date. We’re going to talk about the wedding.
I think I’ve pretty much narrowed it down to a few weeks in either July or August. It would be nice to make the move to his house while the weather is nice and besides, my lease is up on September 1st. It doesn’t make sense to either renew it or look for another place.”

“You could just move in together and worry about the wedding at another time,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, we could do that, but I think I’m ready to have this over with.”

I frowned. That didn’t sound like a statement a woman who couldn’t wait to spend her life with the man of her dreams would make.

“Will you be okay?” I asked Levi. “I can call Pappy and tell him I can’t make it to book club if you want to hang out.”

“No, that’s okay. What I really need is some sleep. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

My Thursday night book club actually started off as an offering through the senior center. Over the course of the past year
, it has evolved into a much smaller group that meets in the home of one of our members. This week it was Hazel Hampton’s turn to host the event. Hazel is single and serves our community as both librarian and as a member of the Events Committee I belong to. There has been a rumor circulating around town that Hazel and Pappy, my grandpa, have been “keeping company” with each other for the past several months. Neither Hazel nor Pappy has come out and stated as much, but I have to admit that they do seem to be spending quite a bit of time together as of late.

Hazel lives in a small house just a few blocks from Main Street. Like many of the homes in th
at neighborhood, Hazel’s yard is bordered by a freshly painted white picket fence. The exterior of the house is painted a pale yellow with white trim that perfectly matches the white of the wooden shutters that frame each window.

As I pulled up in front of the charming cottage
, I noticed that Hazel’s yellow vine rose was in full bloom. It always amazed me that her roses bloomed months before the others in town, but Hazel explained that the variety she chose was an early bloomer she keeps warm in a homemade greenhouse structure of sorts during the cold winter months. Whatever she does, the affect is striking. Thousands of tiny yellow flowers that reminded me of crepe paper covered the healthy vines that grew on trellises along the front walkway. Hazel has a yard service that comes by twice every week to ensure that the lawn is perfectly groomed and the flowerbeds free of weeds.

I called Charlie to my side as we made our way up the rose
-covered walkway. It really was magical to walk under the dome of yellow roses, which seemed to attract a number of hummingbirds that fluttered around from one flower to another. I admired the flowers displayed in brightly painted pots as I waited on the porch for Hazel to answer the bell. Some of the members of the book club simply leave a note on the door inviting people to come on in, but Hazel is a tad more formal than that.

“Zoe, I’m so glad you could come,” Hazel,
wearing a yellow sundress, greeted me. I couldn’t help but notice that her dress matched her house exactly. Leave it to Hazel to coordinate.

“I hope
it’s okay that I brought Charlie.” I was certain it would be, but with Hazel it’s never a waste of time to be polite.

“
Certainly.” Hazel smiled at Charlie. I don’t know a lot about Hazel’s past, but I’d be willing to bet that she was raised in a prim and proper upper-class household. I don’t know for certain whether she has ever been married. She’s been single since moving to Ashton Falls and appears to be childless, given the fact that neither children nor grandchildren are ever mentioned. “We are in the family room. Go on back and make yourself comfortable.”

I entered the room to find that Phyllis King, Nick
Benson, Pappy, and our newest member, Ethan Carlton, had already arrived. By the time we’d all greeted each other, Hazel returned with Lilly Evans on her heels. Lilly had been one of our original members who stopped attending for a while but then rejoined the group after a couple of members she didn’t get along with moved on. I like Lilly. I really do. But the woman can be somewhat pushy and opinionated. If she likes you, she’s sweet as pie. If she doesn’t . . . well, let’s just stay that I work hard to remain on her good side.

“Please help yourself to refreshments before we begin,” H
azel announced. It appeared that she had gone to a lot of trouble to prepare home-baked pastries to serve with her freshly brewed coffee. “The éclairs are my specialty, so be sure to try one.”

I had to admit the pastries were really good.
As I helped myself to my third éclair, I realized I’d have to ask Hazel for the recipe; I was pretty sure I was addicted by that point.

“How’s the investigation going?” Nick
Benson walked up beside me and began filling his plate.

Nick is a good foot and a half taller than I am
, so I needed to look up before answering. “How do you know I’m investigating?”

“Ev
eryone knows your investigating,” Nick responded.

I considered the
man with his full head of thick brown hair that had just begun to turn gray in spite of the fact that he was well into his sixties. “I guess it’s going okay. I’m not sure that we’re any closer to proving who killed Barbie than we were when we started, but I feel like we’re narrowing down our list of suspects. I had a conversation with Salinger, and he’s going to look into a few things.”

“So you’re working together on this one?”

“I guess we are. It’s kind of an odd case.”

“Odd how?”
Nick wondered.

I glanced around the room. If I explained
the complexities to Nick, I knew I’d end up involving everyone else as well. On one hand, Salinger probably wouldn’t want me talking about a case that he’d yet to solve, but on the other, the room was filled with intelligent people who might very well offer input on the situation that neither Salinger nor I had yet to consider. In addition to Nick, a retired doctor, we had Hazel, who was a librarian and therefore very well read, Phyllis, who was a retired English teacher, and Ethan, a retired history professor. Pappy probably had the least formal education of the group, but there was no one I’d rather have on my side in a situation requiring common sense and street smarts.

“You realize that if we continue with this conversation
, we most likely never will get around to discussing the book,” I warned Nick.

“Fine by me.” Nick turned toward the center of the room. “Zoe is involved in another murder investigation,” he announced. “How many of you are interested in finding out more about it?”

Everyone in the room agreed that they’d like to discuss the case.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what I know.”

After everyone took a seat, I walked the group through the highlights of the investigation to date, including the antiques auction and the series of events that took place following the auction. I left out Salinger’s involvement with Barbie, as well as the names of the suspects I’d already managed to clear. By the time I was wrapping up the details of my discussion with Salinger, everyone in the room was hooked by the conversation.

“I saw Barbie on the night she died
, you know,” Ethan offered as he adjusted the wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. Ethan is a tall man with a thin frame and snowy white hair. Although he’s new to our group, he has lived in Ashton Falls for more than ten years, having moved to the area after retiring from the university where he taught. In many ways, Ethan is a stereotypical history professor, an introvert who is more often than not distracted by whatever thoughts are stomping around in his mind. In dress he favors tweed pants topped with striped, long-sleeve dress shirts and brown corduroy jackets complete with elbow patches.

“You did? Where?”

“At the Wharf. I was there with an old colleague of mine who happened to be in town, and she came in with a man who I suppose could have been a date but looked quite a bit older than she.”

“Can you describe the man?” I asked.

“I guess he was about sixty. He was maybe five ten, a little on the stocky side, with gray hair that was thinning on the top.”

“Why would Barbie go out with a man so much older than she was?” Hazel asked.

“My guess is that the guy had money,” Ethan offered. “His suit was designer and his watch a Rolex.”

“How did you happen to notice his watch?” I had to ask.

“He raised his arm to wave over the waiter and I caught it out of the corner of my eye.”

“And what time would you say th
at was?” I asked. Perhaps we could narrow down Barbie’s movements on the night she died.

“I guess around nine. We were just finishing up and left shortly after the couple arrived. The place was packed
, and the only reason I even noticed them was because the dress Barbie had on was designed to be noticed, if you know what I mean.”

I did.

“Do we think this man had anything to do with Barbie’s death?” Phyllis asked.

“Probably not
, but I’d like to know who the guy was,” I answered.

“I suppose you can check with the wait staff at
the Wharf,” Pappy said. “The man most likely paid with a credit card, and if Barbie was dressed in the manner described, I imagine the server remembered her. He might even have known her or known of her. Most people in town did, in spite of the fact that she didn’t live here all that long.”

“She certainly was one to be noticed,” Nick agreed.

I looked at my watch. The Wharf closed early on weeknights until after Memorial Day, when they switched to their summer hours. Chances were that the weekend staff wouldn’t be working on a Thursday anyway. I realized that following up with the wait staff was a good idea, but I supposed it would have to wait until tomorrow. The restaurant didn’t open until four, but I’d probably find someone on-site several hours before that. I’d promised to help set up the kiddie carnival and food vendors the next day, but I was certain I could get away long enough to see if I could find out the identity of Barbie’s date.

“You know,” Ethan added, “now that I’m thinking about it
, Ryder Westlake stopped by the table and chatted for a few minutes. He might know who the man was.”

“Dr. Ryder Westlake?” I asked. Dr. Westlake is fairly new to the area. He
’s young, single, and gorgeous, so I imagine that like every other Ashtonite with a y chromosome and a pulse, he’d noticed Barbie, but I was surprised he knew her well enough to stop by her table to speak to her.

“
It looked like he was on a date with the new science teacher at the high school,” Ethan informed us.

“Seems rude to stop
to talk to Barbie if he was on a date,” I commented.

“Ryder and I are pretty tight,” Nick offered. “How about I call him
to see what he knows?”

I watched the other members of the group as Nick spoke to Dr. Westlake. Pappy was seated next to Hazel
, and the two appeared to be engaged in a private conversation. The pair made a handsome couple, if they were indeed a couple. Both were tall and thin. Pappy’s hair was white, whereas Hazel’s was still a rich brown. Both tended toward neatness and simplicity in style and appearance. Phyllis and Lilly were chatting about something that made them laugh at regular intervals, while Ethan appeared lost in thought.

I decided to use the time to check on Charlie
, who was outdoors with the other dogs. In all, the current book club members own five dogs among us. When Charlie saw me, he trotted over to greet me. I talked to him for a few minutes, then sent him back to his friends, thinking Nick had probably concluded his conversation by then.

“The man’s name is Pinkerton Lowell,” Nick informed u
s. “He’s an art dealer from San Francisco. Ryder said the two weren’t good friends but had met at an art auction a while back. He stopped to say hi when he recognized him but didn’t take the time to chat and was uncertain as to his exact reason for being in Ashton Falls.”

“The fact that Barbie was seen at an auction the weekend before her death and that she was having dinner with an art dealer tracks,” I pointed out. “I’m even more convinced than I was before that her death had something to do with the auction.”

“You think this man killed her?” Lilly asked.

“Probably not,” I admitted.

“I
think we should discuss the book,” Phyllis said. “This is a book club, and I did take the time to read it.”

“Let’s take a s
hort break to refill our drinks and then segue into the book discussion,” Hazel suggested.

“Actually,” I stood up
, “I think I’m going to go. I appreciate your help with the case, but I’m pretty tired and it’s going to be a long weekend.”

“Of course
, dear,” Hazel responded. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the park.”