Liz was intrigued. “Why?”
“She almost sabotaged a showing of my art at the Vero Beach Women’s Club. I had a line of women interested in my pieces, until she came up and told everyone to save their money because Sotheby’s was going to have an auction of some of her father’s recovered jewelry and other items found on the shipwrecked San Carlos.”
“Wasn’t her father still alive at the time?”
“Well, that’s the kicker. There never was an auction because her father wouldn’t allow her to sell anything he’d given her. It was all to go to local museums after her death.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“After I came home from the luncheon, I got ahold of one of my contacts at Sotheby’s. She told me there was going to be an auction and sent me the link to look at the pieces online. Later, I got an e-mail saying the auction had been canceled, so I called her back and she told me that Percival Harrington II himself had called to cancel—and the reason why. It seems his daughter, Regina, had tried to do the same thing at Bonhams in London.”
Liz stood. “Why am I not surprised.” She looked at her watch. “Oh boy, I better run. I still have a list of things to do. Thanks for donating one of your pieces to the Barrier Island Sanctuary, Kate told me her brother called to say he was over the moon about it.”
* * * *
When Liz returned to the Indialantic, she checked to see if her father was in his office or his apartment, but he wasn’t. She wanted to warn him about the possibility of people picketing the hotel because of their new celebrity guest, Regina Harrington-Worth. As she turned the corner on her way to the exterior kitchen door, she found Pierre in his garden.
“Lizzy, why don’t you join me and Betty for a late lunch?” he offered.
Her stomach growled, and she responded with an emphatic “Yes!”
Twenty minutes later, Liz’s plate was so clean, it looked like it had just come out of the dishwasher. The goat cheese quiche and microgreen salad hit the spot. Which wasn’t hard to do lately. Her “spot” seemed to be growing larger and larger since being back around Pierre’s meals and all the gourmet goodies from Deli-casies that she kept stocked in her fridge.
While waiting for Pierre to bring out the dessert, Betty told Liz that Pierre and Aunt Amelia had been burdened that morning with packing an elaborate picnic luncheon for the Worths to take on their Queen of the Seas boat ride with Captain Netherton.
“And that loud, bossy Mrs. Harrington-Worth insisted your aunt Amelia go with them to serve it,” Pierre added.
Liz was sorry her great-aunt had to go through what she imagined was such a trying experience. Especially since Aunt Amelia got seasick easily. “I should have gone instead, but perhaps it’s all for the better. I might have been tempted to push Regina overboard.”
Pierre scuffled to the sideboard, retrieved a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Liz. “Amelia said I should give this to you.” He handed her the paper.
The note read: Iris had a small family emergency and will be back before the dinner hour. Lizzy dear, can you do your auntie a favor and clean the Worths’ suite? It can’t be that bad, they’ve only been here for a night.
Famous last words, Liz thought.
“Polly wants his damn kiwi, already,” a voice called from the butler’s pantry. Barnacle Bob wasn’t allowed in the kitchen in case the health inspector made a surprise visit, but with his booming voice, he might as well have been shouting directly into Liz’s ear.
“Ignore that brat,” said Betty. “He already ate.”
“Kiwi. Kiwi. Kiwi,” BB chanted.
Betty stuck her tongue out in Barnacle Bob’s direction. “We were out of kiwi, as you might have gathered,” she said to Liz. “It’s at the top of Iris’s shopping list over there on the counter.”
Barnacle Bob ate the same thing every day: half of a plum, half of a banana, half of an apple, and half of a kiwi. The first time Liz had fed the parrot, she’d made the mistake of peeling off the skin on the fruit. Barnacle Bob pouted and went on a hunger strike that lasted for about an hour.
Iris was shirking her duties. Aunt Amelia wouldn’t be too happy if she found out her precious parrot had gone without his favorite food.
Chapter 11
Following a dessert of key lime pie squares, of which Liz had three, she left Pierre and Betty in the kitchen and proceeded to the housekeeper’s closet to get the supplies needed to do the thing she dreaded the most—clean the Worths’ suite. Liz filled a bucket on wheels with a mop, cleansers, and rags. She snatched Iris’s ring of keys from a hook on the wall and took the service elevator to the second floor. After grabbing the hotel’s prehistoric Kirby vacuum from the maid’s closet, she hurried to the Oceana Suite. She knocked before she put the key in the door. Phew! No Worths.
The outer room and bedroom to the suite were a breeze to clean. As she dusted, polished, and vacuumed, she mulled over all the things on her checklist for the Spring Fling. One thing she’d been avoiding was asking whether Pops still needed her to help with the wine-and-cheese tasting at Deli-casies. The thought of working next to Ryan made her stomach flutter—she wasn’t sure if she felt butterflies or the vampire bats from one of Aunt Amelia’s episodes of Dark Shadows.
Liz placed a bar of imported dark chocolate on each king-sized pillow on the plantation-style four-poster bed. Feeling pleased at how easy it had been to clean the suite, she took her bucket of supplies and mop into the bathroom.
There was only one thing to say: Regina Harrington-Worth was a pig.
It took her a good hour and a half to get the bathroom cleaned. On top of the cleaning, she also
