She loved early mornings on her deck overlooking the ocean. A congregation of white ibis pecked at the shoreline with their long, curved orange beaks, scavenging for sand crabs. If any of the other authors in her Manhattan writing group knew about Liz’s ocean-front beach house with its glorious views, they’d never feel sorry for the fact that she’d barely written a word since coming home to live on the barrier island. As she stared out at the mesmerizing waves, her thoughts switched to Regina’s murder.
“A gold doubloon for your thoughts?”
She turned and saw a handsome, distinguished man walking up the steps leading to the deck. “Dad!” He came toward her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I hope you were able to sleep?” he asked as he sat on the lounge chair next to her.
“A little.” She didn’t have to ask how he’d slept, because he had stubble on his chiseled jaw. Her father greeted each day with a clean-shaven face, smelling of citrus aftershave, but not today. The look made him even more handsome, but she was sorry it came at the price of a sleepless night.
They sat in silence for a few minutes sharing the peaceful view. Liz was the first to speak.
“I would go get you a cup of coffee, but Aunt Amelia made it.”
He smiled. “That bad, huh?”
“Oh yeah.”
She tipped her cup toward him and he laughed. He said, “I wanted to stop over to tell you that Charlotte will be coming by the hotel around eleven for the fingerprinting. Until any DNA results come in, we can’t ask for samples. This is a small town, not like you see on television. All these tests cut into the budget.”
“It would be a pretty dumb robber who didn’t wear gloves.”
“Agreed. I told Charlotte I’d try to round up everyone and we’ll meet in the library.”
“Who is ‘everyone’?”
“Anyone who has been in the Oceana Suite. You, me, Iris, Captain Netherton, Aunt Amelia, Pierre, and Ryan. I have no clue on how to get ahold of Iris. Do you know where she went last night?”
“No. Sorry.”
“David Worth is coming home from the hospital today. He asked if he could stay for a couple of days until he figures things out—not in the Oceana Suite, of course. I called Charlotte and she thinks it’s a good idea. I hope your great-aunt agrees.”
“Is something going on with you and the beautiful homicide detective, Father Dear?”
He smiled, but didn’t answer.
Liz said, “I’m sure Aunt Amelia will want to rescue David Worth like she did Venus.”
As if on cue, Aunt Amelia opened the French doors and stepped through them with Barnacle Bob on her right shoulder. She was the only one who could handle BB, and there wasn’t any worry he would fly away. He knew where his bread was buttered, or more aptly, his kiwi was halved.
“Why don’t you have a cup of coffee, Fenton?” Aunt Amelia asked. Then she turned to Liz. “Lizzy, you didn’t offer your father coffee after the night he’s had? Hell, the night we all had.”
Barnacle Bob said, “Good to the last drop. Good to the last drop. Maxwell House.”
Not Aunt Amelia’s Maxwell House, Liz thought, as she glanced inside her mug.
Fenton said, “I’m good, Auntie. I must get back anyway. Everything’s fine at the Indialantic. I just left Betty, Pierre, and Captain Netherton in the kitchen. The police should be leaving by noon. I’ll let Liz fill you in on the rest.” He got up and went over to Aunt Amelia. He clasped her hands in his and gazed into her matching sea-green eyes. Barnacle Bob moved his beak in Fenton’s direction. He released his aunt’s hands and took a step backward. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. This is a simple case of a robbery gone bad. I doubt that anyone at the Indialantic is involved, but I think it might be better if you stay here with Liz for a day or two.”
Barnacle Bob squawked, “Robbery gone bad. Robbery gone bad.”
“Hush, BB!” Aunt Amelia said, and the bird obeyed. “I promise to stay here at night, but during the day I want to be at the hotel. I’m sure your lovely Charlotte will catch this monster very soon. Also, I need to put a sign on the door to the emporium that we will be closed for the time being.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Fenton said. “Okay by you, Liz?”
“Of course. Tonight, Auntie and I will turn the AC on high, put on our footie pj’s, make popcorn, and watch some of her old shows on DVD.”
Her father left, and she filled her great-aunt in on what he’d told her about meeting in the library at eleven.
After showering and dressing, Liz said good-bye to Aunt Amelia, who was sitting on a bar stool cuddling Venus in her arms like a newborn. As she walked across her deck, Liz heard her great-aunt crooning the melancholy song “Memory,” from the musical Cats.
When Liz reached the caretaker’s cottage, the door was open, so she stepped inside. She surveyed the open living room and kitchen floor plan. It had been ten years since she’d been in her former home. Nothing remained the same except the white kitchen cupboards, countertop, wood table, and old stove. There’d been no reason to update the kitchen when Liz and her father had lived there, because they’d taken most of their meals at the Indialantic. There were doilies on every chair back and tons of knickknacks, mostly consisting of china bird figurines. A large framed print of two cockatiels hung over an old television produced before the advent of the flat screen. After Aunt Amelia’s friend’s passing, her great-aunt must have felt too sad to have anything removed.
“Hello. I’m here,” Liz called out, moving next to a lumpy-cushioned plaid couch. Under a side table, scarred with drink rings that a dozen crocheted
