Read to Death (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-two

For a while we were distracted by the beauty of strolling along the water's edge. It was very late in the afternoon, and we watched a mellow sun move toward the horizon. The beachgoers were beginning to head home for dinner, and the seabirds were flapping around, looking for a snack.

We were nearly at the pier when Sage broke the silence. “Emelia and I are not stupid, you know. We only had to be here for a few hours to see what's really going on; to understand why we never get invited here together. Bridgy's family and your family. We're always forced to take turns visiting.”

Okay, so I was mystified. Where was she going with this? I couldn't think of a “trick” I'd ever pulled that would lead to this conversation. I decided to remain quiet until I could figure out where this was going.

“The two of you are super busy all the time. Between the café and the book clubs, when do you take time for yourselves? Never, that's when.”

I was getting a glimmer of where she was headed, and it wasn't anywhere I wanted to go. I tried to distract Sage by pointing out an exceptionally pretty seashell half hidden by seafoam, but it didn't work.

She refused to so much as look at the water's edge. “There will be plenty of time for seashells. Right now I want you and Bridgy to commit to a vacation. Not just a few hours for one of you to do something while the other one does the work of two. That is no way for young girls to live. A few days off will put some sparkle in your aura, and it will dust off Bridgy's, for sure.”

“Sage . . . Mom . . .”

“Don't ‘Mom' me. It's already settled. Emelia and I are sending you and Bridgy for some definite R and R. Did you think we were kidding when we talked about Key West? We are perfectly capable of taking your place in the café. Done deal.”

“We can't burden Miguel that way . . .” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew a colossal blunder when I uttered one.

“Burden?”

If I believed in auras, at that moment I was sure Sage's aura was thundercloud black. I braced myself.

“Burden,” Sage repeated. “Is that what you and Bridgy think of your mothers? We are a
burden
to you? We would be a huge help. You don't expect Miguel to cook
and
to serve, do you? The man only has two hands.”

I was losing patience. “We appreciate the offer. We really do, but . . .”

“Don't ‘but' me. You're moving right into your favorite trick. You and Bridgy can't possibly leave the Read 'Em and Eat at the same time. The sky will indeed fall in! Ha.”

I hadn't seen Sage so worked up since a family wedding about five years ago when my father's aunt Cecily insisted that there was no such thing as auras. I decided to just let Sage ramble. Any interruption was sure to excite her further.

“Everything has to be scheduled around you. When you were a child we used to take shared vacations with Bridgy's family, but now Emelia and I can never plan a vacation for both families. Our daughters are too busy. Too busy, you call it. But that's not it. The problem is that you treat the Read 'Em and Eat like a new puppy that can't be left alone just yet.”

Never was I so grateful to hear Ophie yoo-hooing at me. She was standing at the entrance to the pier and waving a paisley scarf with drops of lemon sprinkled on swaths of pink, blue and green.

“Have you seen Bridgy and Emy? I thought every one of y'all was coming over here to Times Square, so I rushed my new client out the door and hurried down to join the fun, and here I stand all by my lonesome.”

“We went home to drop off Sage's plants,” I explained. “They know we're meeting here. Perhaps they're in one of the shops.”

“No, there they are.” Sage pointed, and I saw Bridgy and Emelia walking across the plaza. They stopped to watch a busker juggling three colorfully striped beach balls. He spun the small and large balls one on each of his index fingers. The medium ball bobbled on his forehead. The busker wiggled slightly to the left, and suddenly, the
balls changed places. The large ball landed on his nose, and he flipped it back and forth from his nose to the crown of his head, still spinning the other two on his fingers. Just one more reason to love hanging out in Times Square anytime of the day or night.

Bridgy linked her arm through Emelia's, and they strolled over to join us.

Emelia said, “We just took a walk along . . . what is that street?”

“Old San Carlos Boulevard,” Bridgy answered.

“There are so many lovely shops. Sage, after we finish scouring the stores here on the square for every little treasure, we'll have to spend some time over there.” Emelia waved across Estero Boulevard.

“Wait until you hear which shop really caught Mom's eye. I had to drag her away.”

“I'll bet she wanted to try on every single dress in the cute little boutique up by Second Street. Emy was always one to fall in love with chic dresses.”

Bridgy laughed. “Not even close, Aunt Ophie.”

I saw Emelia give Bridgy a small elbow nudge, which sent Bridgy's laugh into a full-on giggle. Finally, she controlled herself enough to say, “The tattoo parlor. Mom
loved
the tattoo parlor. I had to drag her out.”

Ophie's eyes popped. “What on earth were you doing inside? Did you get a tattoo?”

“Don't look so alarmed. I was only looking around. They do tattooing and piercing. The store is immaculate and decorated with beautifully framed pictures of tattoo work. It's art, pure and simple. And the jewelry they sell to go with the piercings, why some of the pieces were exceptional.” Emelia watched Ophie's face change and
continued on before her sister got miffed. “Not as exquisite as the items you have in the Treasure Trove, of course.”

Ophie accepted the compliment with a shout. “Let the shopping begin.”

I pointed to the tables in front of the ice cream store. “Let's meet back here for cones and cups in an hour. Agreed?”

Ophie and the moms nodded, waved and, anxious to browse every store imaginable, disappeared into the crowd.

Bridgy looked at me. “Do you want to walk the pier or would you rather hit the beach and meditate?”

“I need the walk, especially if we are going to have dessert later. Is it my imagination or are we eating way too much in the way of treats since the moms came to town?”

Bridgy mulled that over. “It could be the moms. I'm inclined to think it's our reaction to Oscar's murder.”

We walked silently along the pier, watching tourists taking pictures from every possible angle. Someone yelled, “Oh look, a parasail.” And a dozen people rushed to the railing, holding up cameras and cell phones.

A small boy in a blue and green tee shirt with the Seattle Seahawks emblem on the front pushed past me. “Where?”

A teenager wearing the exact same shirt grabbed him by the arm. “This way, pip-squeak. You can see it better from this side.”

“Got it.”

I smiled at their enthusiasm for things we see every day. In fact, it wasn't so long ago that Bridgy treated me to a parasail ride for my make-believe birthday. It was quite an adventure. I looked up at the sail, a bright orange puff gliding past even puffier white clouds.

“We should go parasailing again sometime soon.”

Bridgy agreed. “But not with Tony the Boatman's cousin Darrin. He's too touchy-feely for me. Imagine if Tony hadn't gone on the boat with us. Trapped with Darrin.” She shuddered.

We ambled past the bait shop and headed for the covered seating area near the end of the pier. We took two seats and watched a fisherman cast off. We were facing Sanibel Island and could see house lights begin to twinkle. Another gorgeous sunset would be ours to view soon.

“Is your mom bugging you about sending us to Key West?”

“Yep. And Sage, is she pushing you to go?”

“Ordering me is more like it. She seems to think that the café is coming between us and our families, and not just by geography.” I shrugged my shoulders. “They think work keeps us too busy to enjoy life.”

“Why can't they understand how really happy we are. Our lives are perfect. Or, at least, we'll be back to perfect as soon as Oscar's killer is caught.” Bridgy looked at her phone. “We better start back. It is almost ice cream time.”

We stepped off the pier just as Ophie and the moms came around the corner from the shopping strip. They were carrying lots of bags and packages. Sage was particularly weighed down.

Before we could ask how the shopping went, Ophie said, “Y'all will never guess who we met and what
she
didn't know.”

We knew better than to speculate. Ophie could play “guess what” for hours. Both Bridgy and I raised our hands as if caught in the cookie jar and surrendered instantly.

“It was that woman from the book club. The one with the superior attitude.”

Emelia helped her sister. “You know, the one we met with her husband when we went to visit Randy Wayne White.”

Ophie chuffed at her sister. “You visited Randy Wayne White without me?”

I interceded before the bickering got out of hand. “Ophie, you know we had dinner at Doc Ford's the other night. Randy Wayne wasn't there.” Hopefully that ended that. I moved on. “So what you're saying is you met Margo Wellington?”

Three heads nodded in unison.

“She was quick to tell us that Tammy Rushing had been arrested. Seemed almost gleeful.” I could see that Margo's elation annoyed Ophie no end.

Emelia chimed in. “I think she is one of those people who is proud to be the first one to announce the local gossip. She was just hoping we didn't know. She turned dejected the minute Ophie told her that the person she was talking about was arrested for alimony, not murder. Annoyed her that Ophie was higher on the gossip chain than she was.”

Sage agreed. “Definitely. I told you before that woman has a difficult aura, but when Ophie out-gossiped her, well all I can say is that her aura turned mean. I've never seen anything like it. All cloudy dark green and murky brown woven through wide streaks of black. Negativity galore, and her energy centers are totally blocked. She is suffering from envy and misery. I bet the poor lamb doesn't even know why.”

Again, it was my job to change the topic before we had to listen to lengthy descriptions of the muddy auras Sage has known.

“Let's find a table and buy some sweet treats. Then you can show us what you bought.” I tried to move them in the direction of several empty tables, but Ophie held out her hand and circled her wrist to show off a wide silver bangle bracelet. She raised her arm high. “Emy bought it for me. Read what it says.”

I read aloud. “#1 SISTER.”

Ophie beamed. Emy gave her a quick hug. Bridgy, Sage and I clapped. As I looked at the laughing faces around me, I could only hope that the cloud of Oscar's murder that hung over us would be lifted soon.

Chapter Thirty-three

Early the next morning everyone was flying around the Turret at warp speed. Bridgy and I needed to get to the café, Sage wanted to get her tai chi finished early and Emelia was determined to change all the bed linens before Ophie came to take the moms to the Working Waterfront Tour on San Carlos Island.

As soon as we got into the elevator, Bridgy half whispered, “Thank goodness Mom and Aunt Ophie are back to being bestie sisters. Ophie should be able to keep them out of our hair all day.”

“You don't have to whisper. The moms can't hear us in here.”

“Remember what they used to tell us?”

Together we bellowed, “A MOTHER'S EYES AND EARS ARE EVERYWHERE.”

Of course that was the exact moment the elevator door
opened and nearly everyone in the Beausoleil lobby turned to see what the uproar was all about. Blushing, we scurried out to the parking lot, climbed into the Heap-a-Jeep and headed off to work.

We took it as an omen when Sister Sledge came on the radio singing “He's the Greatest Dancer.” As soon as the song stopped, Bridgy turned the radio off and we both began to sing “We Are Family.” Every time we got to the word “sisters,” we blasted a major shout-out in honor of lasting peace between the Brice babes.

As always, Miguel had the kitchen up and running by the time Bridgy and I arrived at the Read 'Em and Eat. He looked past us at the kitchen door as it swung shut.

“Where are the moms? I was getting used to them.”

“Be grateful for a day without Emelia double scrubbing every possible surface and Sage trying to inspire you to cook with fresh herbs, while deciding what customers should and shouldn't eat based entirely on an aura that only she can see.”

Miguel asked Bridgy to check the buttermilk pies in the oven and then looked at me. “
Chica
, the moms are trying to help you and to render support in this crisis. Be grateful for that. The rest, it is not so bad.”

I knew he was right and said so. Then I heard the insistent gong of the brass ship's bell that hung outside our front door. Customers. The day had officially begun.

Toward the end of the breakfast rush, Tina Wei came in for a to-go cup of sweet tea. She looked very professional in her dark green sheriff's deputy uniform. I noticed her pants had a sharp crease straight down each leg.

As I was filling the container, I asked if she wanted a
pastry. She leaned over the counter and said, “Ryan sent a message.”

Knowing Ryan, I predicted, “He wants to know if Miguel has made any of those double chocolate chip mini muffins that were such a hit on the specials board last month.”

Tina smiled and then turned serious. “I'm sure he'll want to know about the muffins, but he wanted me to tell you, with the lieutenant's permission, that interviewing Tammy Rushing was a big old wash. There was no Oscar Frieland in her past, no intersecting geography whatsoever, and when pressed, she claimed that she dropped her things in the trunk of her car and hurried into the café to use the restroom. When she came out of the restroom, Blondie Quinlin was standing in the alcove waiting her turn. Blondie verified the story, as did Augusta Maddox, who was sitting at one of the front tables waiting for Blondie so they could get seats next to each other at the book club meeting. Would have been less stress for all concerned if Tammy had mentioned that in her first interview.”

I guess my disappointment showed, because Tina patted my hand and said, “Don't worry. Everyone knows Bridgy could never . . .”

Bridgy swung out of the kitchen with a plate in each hand. Tina faked quickly. “So what do you want me to tell Ryan about those muffins?”

I appreciated her change of topic. “Tell him I'll check with Miguel and let him know.”

I offered drink refills to the lingering customers and then began wiping down the empty tables and chairs, getting ready for the lunch rush.

Three ladies came in and asked for a table. The one with
the beet red, day-old sunburn said they needed to sit where they could have what she called a “protracted, talky meal,” because they hadn't seen one another in a while.

I'd barely got them settled at Barbara Cartland when Ophie came through the door. She was both alone and breathless.

A man on a gray walker with yellow tennis balls on two tips and a fragile birdlike woman signaled from the Robert Louis Stevenson table that they were ready to pay their bill. By the time I brought back their change, she'd opened his walker and helped him stand. The gentleman left a generous tip on the table and told me that they'd be back before they went home to Maine. “The missus likes your breakfast better than anyone's 'cept maybe her own.” And he pointed his walker toward the door. Ophie rushed to open it, and I walked alongside his purposeful steps until they were outside.

As the door swung shut behind them, Ophie grabbed my arm. “Where's Bridgy?”

“Kitchen. Why? And how was the tour? Where are the moms?”

Ophie ignored my questions. She looked around the room and nodded to herself. Apparently, she was content with what she saw, only three occupied tables each with customers that were keeping themselves busy. Ophie pushed me ahead of her into the kitchen.

Inexplicably, she burst out laughing. “Y'all should have been there. We had a fine time. The tour started at the Marine Science Center, where they taught us more than I ever wanted to know about the fish around here.”

“Aunt Ophie.” There was an edge of impatience in Bridgy's voice. “Where are the moms?”

“Oh, they'll be along directly. Wanted to stop at the Turret to buff up a bit. I suppose I could use a bit of cleaning up myself.” She flicked an imaginary speck off the bodice of her cherry red surplice dress, cinched with a wide black patent leather belt that matched her spiky sandals. How she trotted all over San Carlos Island from shrimp boats to packing houses to the processing plant in those shoes amazed me.

“But I needed to tell y'all . . .”

Ophie turned her head until she had all three of us in her sights. “At the end of the tour we were walking back to my car, parked in that big lot behind the Marine Science Center, and who comes a-clumping across the parking lot? None other than the witchy pastor's wife.”

“Jocelyn? What was she doing there?”

“Poor put-upon thing. She was picking up some pamphlets about an event geared for middle school kids. Said Pastor John wanted the information for the parish youth program. Don't think she didn't complain. Talked about how Pastor John could never get anything done if it wasn't for her. It was her usual patter until . . .”

Ophie waited long enough to get us on the verge of asking, “And then?”

“Until she asked if there was any news about Oscar's murder. 'Course, even if I had news, I'd never give it to her. Anyway, I said I hadn't heard a peep. And I was about to introduce her to your mothers, when Jocelyn said that she was truly and deeply shocked that the meddlesome Sassy and Bridgy hadn't stuck their noses into the investigation. And she prodded me to search my memory for incidents of all the worry the ‘meddlesome twosome' had caused in the past.

“I give your mothers credit. They stood silently by, waiting for me to drop a rock on Jocelyn's toe, so to speak. And drop it I did.”

“How did she respond when you told her that she was complaining about us to our very own moms?”

Ophie stretched her neck like a proud peacock. “I am gratified to report that Jocelyn had the good grace to turn green and to change the subject right back to the parish youth program.”

Bridgy asked, “And the moms didn't smack her?”

“No, they thought it was hilarious that Jocelyn mistook your innate kindness and called it meddling. Emy said she felt sorry for Pastor John, and that was after spending less than ten minutes with Jocelyn.”

Miguel interrupted our laughter. “You remind me. The shrimp
fiesta
is set for my house tomorrow evening. I ordered the shrimp and will pick it up right after work. Please come around six.”

“Now that sounds grand. Y'all can count on me. I'm not one to miss a party. Well, I'd best get over to the Treasure Trove and pick up my messages. I have an appointment in . . . oh, in ten minutes. Bye now.”

I was cheered and considerably energized by Ophie's Jocelyn story and Miguel's invitation. I could see that Bridgy was, too, which was a good thing, because the lunch crowd swamped us. When the lunch hour began, every table was filled within minutes. Soon we had a large crowd waiting outside. The day was unseasonably hot for March, so I set up a pitcher of iced lemon water alongside a sleeve of paper cups on the outside table.

Finally, the tide of diners dwindled. I was serving two orders of
Green Eggs and Ham
when Emelia opened the
front door and held it for Sage, who was carrying a huge box. Ignoring the fact that I had a plate filled with food in each hand, Sage called, “Oh, my little hibiscus, could you help me?”

I set the plates in front of two surfer dudes sitting at Robert Frost and rushed to the doorway. By the time I got there, Emelia had put a hand under the box to steady it.

“Sage, what on earth?”

“Just set this box in a corner somewhere. Careful, it is fragile. I'll be right back with the rest.” With Emelia at her heels, Sage turned and disappeared into the parking lot.

I pushed the box behind the counter and noticed a package on the shelf under the register. I'd forgotten about the copy of
The Florida Life of Thomas Edison
that Sonja had left for Margo. I made a mental note about the book, pushed the box in the corner and turned to find a customer at the register, a twenty-dollar bill in his hand. “Keep the change. We really enjoyed lunch. Great service, too.”

Sage came in carrying a flat box filled with a half dozen large conch shells. She set the box down on the counter. “Where is my other box? Oh, I see it. And I need to talk to Miguel. He and I are going to help these shells support life once again.”

And she gave me a thousand-watt smile while I was busy trying to think of a way to protect Miguel from Sage's enthusiasm for whatever the project might be.