Read Footprints in the Sand Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
Footprints in the Sand (8 page)
W
hen Piper returned to Roz Golubock’s town house, the elderly woman was sitting with a blood-pressure cuff on her arm and her legs up on the sofa. Kathy was frowning.
“It’s a little low, Roz,” she said, unwrapping the cuff. “You’ve got to be more diligent about taking your medication.”
“I know,” said Roz. “I just forget sometimes.”
“Well, hang a calendar on your fridge or somewhere. Mark it off every time you take it. You’ve got to keep track, Roz. This time you’re okay, but the next time you might really hurt yourself.”
Dreading what she knew she had to tell Kathy, Piper looked at her cousin with admiration. “I’m impressed,” said Piper. “I can’t believe you actually know how to read that thing.”
“I had a lot of practice with my father,” said Kathy matter-of-factly. “I want to be able to tell Dr. Robbins and see what he says.”
Kathy made the call, relayed the blood-pressure figures and listened.
“Okay, ten o’clock,” she said. “We’ll make sure that she’s there.” Kathy ended the call and turned to Roz. “He said he’d feel better if you came in tomorrow morning to see him.”
With that settled, Kathy suddenly remembered. “Hey, what was happening out there on the beach, Piper?”
L
evi sat in the gift shop, trying to keep his attention focused on the large white wooden disk on the worktable in front of him. He had carefully sketched out the figures around the periphery of the circle. Now he would begin painting them.
His hand shook as he picked up the brush and dipped it in the red paint. As he brought the brush to the wood, a droplet dribbled beyond the lines that defined the first bird. Levi wiped at the paint with a cloth, only spreading the stain. Now he would have to sand and re-cover the spot with white paint and wait for it to dry before he could continue.
He was determined to get the hex sign finished. He had given his word to Piper Donovan, and he wanted Kathy and Dan to have something to remember him by. He wanted to make sure that it would be meaningful.
Levi blew on the wet paint, willing it to dry faster. He felt pressured and scared.
He couldn’t find his cell phone. He’d looked for it everywhere. He’d retraced his steps, returning to the Whispering Sands Inn, hoping he had put it down in the kitchen when he’d delivered the pies this morning. He’d searched the lobby area, beneath cushions and under the chairs. He’d checked with the receptionist, but nobody had turned it in.
Levi followed the exact same path all the way back to Pinecraft. He carefully scanned the trail, searching in vain, feeling more and more desperate. The last time he remembered using the cell phone was the previous night. Right before he went to Shelley’s grave.
A
fter breaking the news of the discovery of Shelley’s body, Piper wrapped her arm around her cousin’s shoulders as they walked back to her mother’s town house.
“I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe that Shelley is dead!” Kathy cried. “How can this be happening?”
Pulling her cousin closer, Piper whispered, “I don’t know, Kathy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
They traveled the rest of the way in a silence punctuated only by the sound of the driveway pebbles crunching beneath their feet and Kathy’s weeping. When they got to the front door, Kathy paused.
“Wait a minute,” she said, opening her purse and pulling out a tissue. “Let me clean myself up. There are only four days before the wedding, and I don’t want my mother to see me so upset.”
Z
ipper, the black-and-white cat, was waiting at the front door, but Nora and Terri barely looked up when Piper and Kathy walked into the town house. Their eyes were riveted to the television screen. The twenty-four-hour local news channel was reporting on the grisly discovery. A female reporter told the story.
“A woman’s body was found on the beach on the northern part of Siesta Key today. College students vacationing in Sarasota on semester break found the body as they built a sand castle.”
A shirtless, unshaven young man appeared on the screen and spoke.
“Man, when I saw that foot sticking out of the sand, it totally freaked me out.”
“While beach lovers looked on, police secured the crime scene and searched for clues.”
“It didn’t appear like she’d been there too long,”
said a sheriff’s deputy.
“There was no noticeable decomposition.”
“The burial site was on the far end of the property of Whispering Sands Inn. The owner was clearly shaken.”
“Look, there’s Walter!” cried Nora as she pointed at the screen. Walter looked uncomfortable as he squinted against the sun and commented.
“Of course, this a terrible thing, a tragic thing. It’s especially upsetting since it’s so close to home. Unfortunately, things like this happen too much in our society. It could happen anywhere.”
The reporter appeared again.
“The body of the woman was taken to the Sarasota Memorial Hospital morgue, where an autopsy will be performed. Her identity is being withheld until next of kin can be notified. Lois Ryan for Peninsula News, on Siesta Key.”
“Awful,” said Nora as she clicked off the set.
“It gets worse, Mom,” Kathy said quietly.
Nora looked at her daughter and noticed her red-rimmed eyes. “What?” she asked with urgency. “What’s wrong?”
Kathy sat down next to her mother on the sofa and took her hand. “It was Shelley.”
A
fter the body was taken away and the onlookers drifted off, sheriff’s deputies continued to search the area. Scanning the beach was a relatively simple matter. The sun shone brightly, illuminating the smooth white sand. Metal detectors led the way to a safety pin, a hair clip, and some bottle caps.
“I doubt these have anything to do with anything,” said a deputy as he put the items into plastic evidence bags.
“You never know,” said his partner.
Searching the vegetation area took more time. The leather ferns and sea grapes that covered the ground were heavily shaded by taller elderberry, Australian pine, and palm trees. The lack of light and the density of ground growth made the hunt for evidence more difficult.
The deputy picked up a ripped rubber flip-flop and held it out.
“It’s so faded,” observed the other. “It looks like it’s been out here a long time. But bag it anyway.”
The deputy squatted down at the base of a palm tree where the weathered shell of a baby sea turtle lay in the sand. “The little guy didn’t make it last season,” he said ruefully.
“Over here,” called the other deputy. “I found something.”
In his glove-covered hand, he held up a cell phone.
T
hey found her. They found Shelley. It was on television, on the radio, and it would be splashed across the front page of the newspaper in the morning.
Sarasota was a city, but in some ways it was like a small town. This wasn’t New York or Chicago or Los Angeles, where the discovery of a dead body could go virtually unnoticed. In Sarasota, uncovering Shelley Hart’s body was huge news, especially because she’d been found on Siesta Beach. Everybody paid attention.
Sarasota’s financial system revolved around the tourist trade. Visitors pumped millions of dollars into the local economy. The designation of Siesta Beach as the best beach in the nation had been a tremendous boon to hotels, restaurants, theaters, boat- and car-rental companies, and all the other enterprises that provided what tourists wanted. As a result, the district tax coffers had benefited immensely.
The image of the perfect spot for vacationers didn’t include a dead body in the soft white sand. The police would be under enormous pressure to solve this one. The city needed to be able to reassure everyone that law enforcement was on the ball and that Sarasota was a safe place.
It wouldn’t take long for them to get around to interviewing the old gal. Maybe she hadn’t actually seen anything that would be incriminating. But maybe she had.
K
athy insisted that her guests go ahead with the Valentine’s Day plans to see
Soul Crooners.
She was too upset and wanted to stay in with Dan for the night. So Piper, her parents, and Nora went to the show.
“Walter wanted to come,” said Nora as they drove downtown, “but he just had too much work to do. He feels terrible about Shelley, but he’s also concerned about her workload and how he’s going to get that covered. Plus, he’s worried about how all this is going to impact business at the inn.”
“My bet is that it won’t hurt business at all,” said Vin. “He’s got some prime real estate there, with first-class accommodations and some of the best views in the world. People are still going to want to stay at Whispering Sands.”
“I second that emotion,” said Piper from the backseat, thinking about the Westcoast Black Theatre Troupe performance they were about to see. She was looking forward to a couple of hours of feel-good music. She wanted to erase the image of Shelley’s sand-covered body from her mind.
They found seats in the second row to the right of the stage and began perusing the program. Piper scanned the list of songs that would be sung and the bios of the performers. She was reminded again of how many actors, singers, and other entertainers were out there, plugging away, taking whatever roles they could get, attempting to piece together a living doing what they loved. Just like her.
Piper watched as the all-male group of performers bounded out onto the stage in their white suits and purple shirts. They immediately began singing and dancing to Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours.” As Piper’s foot tapped to the rhythm of the music, her mind kept wandering to the scene on the beach that day.
Why would anyone want to kill Shelley? Had she been deliberately murdered? Or had someone wanted to cover up her accidental death? And what about Brad O’Hara? Could he be connected in some way? He’d admitted that Shelley didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Why?
By the time the crooners were singing “My Girl,” Piper was wondering about the time immediately before Shelley’s death. What had it been like for her? Had she been filled with terror? Or had she not even seen it coming?
The ensemble kept up their nonstop show, performing one unforgettable Motown melody after another. Their enthusiasm was contagious. Some in the audience rose to their feet and danced in place, while others smiled broadly, rocking with the beat in their seats. Piper tried unsuccessfully to focus on the music.
It was unlikely that the burial spot had been picked at random. Somebody was familiar with that place. Was it the man Roz Golubock saw?
As Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” wrapped up, Piper thought about Brad O’Hara. She was curious about his relationship with Shelley. She could ask Dan, but she also was wondering why the groom-to-be had such a seemingly sketchy friend.
I
t was getting increasingly difficult to drive at night. But for as long as she was able, Roz was going to continue to go to her book-club meetings. She enjoyed the book selections and the lively, thoughtful discussions. Roz also took pleasure in the fact that she was by far the oldest club member.
Listening to the younger people expressing their views was invigorating to Roz. They got her to look at things in other ways. And they in turn treated her with respect and valued her opinions. Roz knew she’d eventually have to make the switch and find a club that met in the afternoons. She feared that another club wouldn’t be as good, that other members would all be too elderly.
As she backed out of the drive, Roz hoped that none of her neighbors were looking out their town-house windows. Word traveled quickly in the condo development, and she knew that nobody would approve of her going out when she had fainted just that morning. But she felt much better. What was the point of staying in all by herself tonight when she could go out and be with people?
Additionally, knowing that the young woman had been found dead so close to her town house, Roz wanted to get out and be among the living. She didn’t want to sit in and dwell on the knowledge that the detectives were coming to interview her in the morning. She felt slightly guilty that she had put them off when they called, wanting to come see her tonight. She had fibbed, saying that she didn’t feel up to it, when it was really that she didn’t want to miss her book-club meeting.
Roz slowly coasted down the driveway. As she turned out onto Ocean Boulevard, she had no inkling that not only was someone watching her, he was following her.
O
n the way home, they raved about the show.
“Did you see how those guys moved?” asked Vin. “Unbelievable.”
“And the songs were the sound track of our school years,” said Terri. “I can remember dancing to them at fraternity parties.”
“Frank and I picked ‘La-La Means I Love You’ for our first dance at our wedding,” said Nora. “I was thinking of him tonight. I so wish he could be here for Kathy and Dan’s wedding.”
“He will be,” said Terri, taking her sister-in-law’s hand. “He’ll be watching the whole thing.”
Piper was about to offer her opinion as the car turned onto Siesta Drive, heading to the North Bridge, which led back to the key. Ahead of them a long string of bright red taillights lined up, reaching all the way to the drawbridge. Vin slowed the car.
“There’s no construction going on, and they don’t open the bridge for boats to pass through at night,” Nora said anxiously as she stretched to get a better view. “I hope there wasn’t an accident.”
Vin shifted the car into park and turned off the ignition. For fifteen minutes they waited. Finally they saw flashing blue lights heading toward them.
“Oh, no,” said Terri as an emergency vehicle sped past. “Seeing an ambulance makes me shiver. I hope it isn’t too serious.”
Slowly the traffic began to move. Their car followed the others up and over the drawbridge. At the other side, they slowed again as red flares and police lights illuminated the area at the foot of the bridge.
“Rubberneckers,” Vin said with disgust. “Everybody’s got to get a look at what happened.”
At the side of the road, a badly mangled yellow convertible was on its side. The windshield was a spiderweb of cracks. The front door was lying on the ground a few yards away.
Vin whistled through his teeth. “Uh-oh,” he said. “It looks like they had to use the Jaws of Life to get out whoever was in there.”
“Oh, no!” cried Nora. “I think that’s Roz Golubock’s car!”
V
in pulled to the side of the road and parked. “You all wait here,” he ordered as he opened the door. “I’ll find out what happened.”
Piper ignored her father’s command, got out, and followed him. As they walked toward one of the sheriff’s deputies, Piper noticed that long black skid marks streaked across the road. She listened as her father identified himself as a former New York City cop. The two men shook hands.
“It looks like somebody deliberately ran the woman off the road,” said the deputy. “We have a witness, a guy who was fishing off the bridge, who says he heard brakes squeal and the sound of a collision. Apparently a car just rammed into the convertible and kept on going. But the witness didn’t get the tag and only describes the car as dark. A lot of good that does us.”
“And the driver of the convertible?” asked Vin.
“An old woman,” said the deputy.
“Was her name Golubock?” asked Vin.
“As a matter of fact, it was. You know her?”
“She’s a neighbor of my sister-in-law’s,” said Vin. He warily eyed the crushed and twisted metal. “Did she make it?”
“So far,” said the deputy. “The ambulance took her to Sarasota Memorial. When she left here, she was still conscious. Incoherent but conscious.”
