“Get yourself together, Shirley. You aren’t helping anyone by falling apart.”
Mrs. Philpott responded to the admonishment, and, with a twinge of admiration, Rosa watched her aunt as she led Mrs. Philpott away.
Dr. Philpott looked equally grateful as he pulled his gaze away from his wife and back to the body before him. “I’m going to need my bag to start documenting,” he said. “I’m not the one to lead this, since, obviously, I have a conflict of interest, but since I’m already here, I’ll start.”
“I’ll get one of my band members to fetch it,” Miguel said.
“Thanks.” Dr. Philpott let out a long sigh. “That will probably be a lot faster than if I went myself.” He shook his head. “Brown Chevrolet two-door sedan. The bag is in the trunk.” He threw a set of keys to Miguel, who caught them.
Miguel nodded, “I’ll be right back.”
Having passed the distraught Mrs. Philpott on to someone else, Aunt Louisa caught up to Rosa again.
“Are you all right, Rosa?”
“Yes, I’m fine. How about you?
Aunt Louisa straightened her dress. “As well as can be expected. I’ve told the caterers to clean up. This event has been ruined. Thoroughly ruined.”
Nothing like a dead body to kill the fun.
Aunt Louisa waved her hand at the scene on the beach. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone drank too much and fell off a pier.”
“I overheard Mrs. Philpott ask Miss Adams if she was drunk again,” Rosa stated.
“Yes,” Aunt Louisa said with a nod. “Flo drinks . . . drank too much at parties . . . and other things too. I don’t see the point in denying that.” She paused, and Rosa thought that her aunt would actually show emotion, but instead, she grew indignant. “I mean, how could she?”
“What did you mean by other things?” Rosa asked. “Are you implying that she was taking illegal drugs?”
“Well, I don’t think it was like street drugs.” Aunt Louisa patted the bottom of her hair and adjusted her hat. “Not cocaine or heroin or anything like that, but maybe prescription drugs or something. I don’t really know. I don’t think anyone really knows, including her cousin Shirley. I mean Flo is . . . was a bit of a loner.”
Red flashing lights signaled that the police had arrived, and several officers hurried to the beach. Rosa reflexively looked for Raul Mendez, the accountant who had run to phone the police, but he was not with them.
Dr. Philpott had taken a camera from a large leather bag and took pictures of the body from several angles. The flashes from the bulb lit up the entire scene as he circled the body. He directed his comments to Miguel. “Seeing how we don’t know if this is a homicide or just a freak drowning accident,” he said, “I'm assuming you don’t mind if I snap a few more pictures. I will hand them over to Dr. Rayburn if needed.”
Kneeling to examine the body again, Dr. Philpott slowly opened Florence Adams’ mouth with the end of a pencil. His eyebrows were furrowed as he gently pressed down on her chest. “Hmmm.”
“What is it?” Miguel asked.
“Well, if she drowned . . .” He glanced at Miguel, but just shrugged his shoulders, then looked at Rosa, “You found the body first, didn’t you?”
Rosa broke in. “There was no seawater. I turned the body on its side to clear the airway in case she was still alive. There was no water.”
“You’re sure, young lady?” the pathologist asked.
Rosa nodded. “Yes.”
With a grunt, Dr. Philpott braced his back and stood. “We’ll have wait to see what Dr. Rayburn finds before making any conclusions.” He paused, let out another sigh, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Normally, one would expect water to be present in the lungs in a drowning death.”
He locked eyes with Miguel. “Mick, I think you should treat this as a suspicious death.”
3
Two officers approached. “Detective Belmonte,” one of them started. “Dispatch said you were on the scene already.”
“Thanks for getting here so fast, Officer Jenkins.” Miguel turned to Rosa. “Let’s talk later, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. The single word came out, not in the firm, authoritative way, Rosa had wanted, but as a whimper. Her heart betrayed her as she watched Miguel walk away, by doing heavy somersaults. Rosa chastised herself and her dumb body for its involuntary reactions. Her face felt hot with a dreadful blush. After all these years, Miguel Belmonte had the worst effect on her.
Rosa returned to what was left of the party. It had been a bizarre evening, and her emotions felt as taut as a piano wire. First, being thrust into a Forrester family charity event, then the dead body on the beach, and finally, seeing Miguel in such an intense context—it was rather overwhelming.
Rosa walked the beach in search of Gloria to tell her she’d take a taxi back to the Forrester mansion. She found her cousin sitting on a lawn chair in quiet conversation with the young lady, Vanessa, who’d discovered the body. Vanessa held a tissue in one hand and dabbed her eyes.
Gloria had her arm around the woman but stood up as Rosa approached. “It’s been a bit emotional tonight. Especially for Vanessa.” Gloria gestured towards the woman. “I don’t think you’ve met her. Vanessa is Clarence’s wife.”
“Oh?” The connection surprised Rosa. What an odd coincidence that the person who found the body was someone she should’ve known, who was in fact related by marriage. However, Rosa never made it to cousin Clarence’s wedding, and had never made his wife’s acquaintance.
“Actually, ex-wife, but don’t say that too loud,” Gloria said, lowering her voice.
Rosa remembered receiving a letter from Gloria telling her that the marriage hadn’t lasted.
“Mom insists they try to behave, at least in public,” Gloria said. “For the sake of the family’s reputation. Occasionally, Vanessa plays along.” Like a balloon with a slow
