Liz guessed the stone throwing was by someone from the historical society. She didn’t agree with the method they’d used. Picketing in a calm and peaceful manner would be Liz’s choice. She knew violence begot violence,
The conversation changed course to the subject of the returning sea turtles, something every true islander felt resonance with. Ninety percent of sea turtles that have laid their eggs on America’s beaches have laid them in Florida.
Aunt Amelia shouted over the music, “We need a toast. Here goes. May those who love us, love us. And for those who don’t love us, may God turn their hearts. And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles so we’ll know them by their limping!”
Liz said, “Auntie!”
Aunt Amelia grinned. “It seemed to fit—an old drinking toast from my Irish mother’s side of the family.”
After Aunt Amelia’s toast, the discussion veered back to Regina and the fate of Castlemara. Soon, all the samples of cheese were eaten and the last drop of wine was poured. A few minutes after, Aunt Amelia cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted to Ryan, “Do you mind turning down the music a tad? I’m afraid my hearing’s not as good as it used to be, and I’m missing all the juicy conversation.”
Ryan said, “Of course, Amelia.”
“I told you to call me ‘Aunt Amelia,’ young man.”
Liz looked over at her great-aunt in surprise.
“Okay, Aunt Amelia.” Ryan got up and turned down the volume. When he sat back down, he said, “I don’t think Regina Harrington-Worth is that bad. Seemed amicable to me. And she did incur a bad twisting of the knee.” He paused, then said, “Do you hear that?”
They all then heard the wail of a fire truck.
Aunt Amelia said, “Ryan, being a firefighter, you probably hear that sound in your sleep. The Brevard County Fire and Rescue is only a mile away.”
Fenton lifted his glass. As he rose to speak, the emporium doors slammed open.
A woman’s voice called out in a calm manner, “Fenton, are you in here?”
“I’m in Deli-casies by the Sea, come join us.” He glanced at Liz and said, “Charlotte. I told her to stop by, was hoping it would have been earlier, during the festivities.”
Liz’s palms itched. “What kind of agent is Charlotte?”
“Homicide,” he replied.
A minute later Agent Charlotte Pearson stood in front of the group. Her detective’s shield hung from one of three gold chains around her neck. “Fenton, can I have a word with you?”
“Of course,” he said, worry lining his forehead.
They walked out of earshot, and everyone left at the tables looked at each other in stunned silence.
Chapter 17
Liz pulled her chair up next to Aunt Amelia’s and took her soft, freckled hand in her own. “I’m sure everything’s okay, Auntie. Don’t worry.” Liz wished she could convince herself of the same thing. She felt oddly comforted by the fact that those she held near and dear were all gathered around her and unhurt. Ryan didn’t exactly fall into that category, but with his sudden change of behavior, she’d almost added him into the mix.
No one said a thing. It was like they were all holding their collective breath, waiting for her father and Charlotte to return.
Within two minutes, Fenton was back. They heard Agent Pearson’s shoes clicking across the wood floors, then out the door. He said, “Apparently there has been a robbery. Regina Harrington-Worth is dead, and her husband has been taken to the hospital.”
Aunt Amelia asked, “Oh my God! Where did this happen?”
“In the Oceana Suite,” Fenton answered.
Aunt Amelia gasped and stood up. “How was Regina killed, and what happened to David?”
When Aunt Amelia sat back down, Liz pulled her close, selfishly not to comfort her great-aunt, but to be comforted.
“Mrs. Worth was strangled, and her husband stabbed. That’s all I know. It happened just a short time ago.”
“The sirens—we missed them because of the music,” Kate said.
Liz turned to her father. “What was stolen?”
Fenton sat, rubbing the area between his eyebrows like he was trying to erase what he’d just heard. “The necklace and earrings Regina had planned on wearing to the Treasure Coast Ball. We’ll know more soon. The ME and forensics team are up there now. Char—Agent Pearson said the body will be moved shortly. She wants everyone to wait to reenter until they can secure the suite.”
The body… the body… kept repeating in Liz’s head.
Pierre stood and pulled up a chair next to Aunt Amelia. “Amelia, mon cher. We are together. Everything will look better in the morning. If the Worth woman was killed for her jewelry, no one else is in danger.”
Impressed by Pierre’s words and the clarity with which he spoke them, Liz left Aunt Amelia’s side and went over to Betty. “I’m stunned. Murder at the Indialantic? Even with its long history and list of gangster and rumrunner guests, we’ve never had a murder!”
“You forget about Cissy Bollinger,” Betty said.
The fire that took out almost half of the Indialantic had happened on the same day as V-E day, at the end of WWII. There had been one casualty, Cissy, the Indialantic’s chambermaid. She hadn’t died in the fire; she was discovered floating in the swimming pool. Everyone assumed Cissy had purposely set the fire, then killed herself. Ever since the age of ten, when Liz uncovered Cissy’s things in a small suitcase in the back of the hotel’s luggage room, Liz and Betty had been sleuthing the possibility that someone had framed the young eighteen-year-old, then murdered her.
“No one is allowed on the second floor at this time,” Fenton said, “but on my suggestion, Charlotte said we can use the rear entrance to my office and stay in my part of the Indialantic until she comes down and tells us the coast is clear. Ryan, of course, you are free to go to the caretaker’s cottage.”
Liz had watched Ryan’s face since Agent Pearson had first walked in. He’d focused first on the detective’s
