Murder on the Beach Read online

  “Now I have given you my contact information, my time and my patience,” she said. “Mr. Godfrey also has all of my contact information, and if you bother to look you will see there is nothing in my background that could possibly make you think that I will not be cooperative in every way possible. So, if you don’t mind, there is no reason for you to accompany me any further.”

  Detective Thom thought for a moment, looking at Charles Godfrey who had a slight smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. He opted to agree, for the moment at least, with Diane and left her to continue into the hotel without him. Any information he could need on the proprietor or any of the guests could be done easily enough by phone. The detective gave a quick nod, returned to his car and left.

  “I see you can take care of yourself very well,” Charles said. “Even so, if you do not mind, I think I will walk you the rest of the way in.”

  Diane agreed, and they both headed toward her room. She made two cups of hot tea, and they sat down at the small table in the room. After the day she had endured, Diane could not help but feel a great sense of comfort and release as she relaxed in her room. She again heard the sound of the ocean outside and looked toward her window. It was as she had left it, but the uneasy feeling from finding it open before struck her again. She decided to tell Charles about the open window in her room, and the uneasy feeling she had.

  “I’m sure I could have left it open,” she said. “But I just do not remember doing so, and I typically close and lock any window or door before leaving a room with my belongings in it.”

  “Did you tell the detectives about this?” he asked

  Diane shook her head. She contemplated why she had not mentioned it to the detectives and decided that it would have sounded made up in the middle of her questioning like she was trying to deflect.

  “No,” she said. “Things were so topsy-turvy today that I did not think it was the appropriate time to mention it. Perhaps I should have. Mentioning it now might sound even stranger.”

  “I will take care of it,” Charles said.

  After Charles had left, Diane went back down to the food service area and picked a sandwich and a bag of crisps out for dinner. A stack of local newspapers was sitting in the lobby by the food cart, and she saw Maxwell Carter’s picture looking back at her. She picked up a copy. She ate her dinner in her room and read the paper. The reporter had quoted Detective Donnelly, making Diane curious about finding out a little more on both detectives. She cleaned up after her meal, pulled out her laptop and started searching for information.

  Diane started with the police station website, which only provided the names, ranks and precinct locations of members of the force. She used a few search engines, entering their names and the limited information she had gleaned from meeting them. There was not much to be found on Detective Thom, except for one picture of him with a group of new officers several years earlier. However, Diane was surprised on what she discovered about Detective Donnelly. Hazel Donnelly apparently had a previous career in modeling. Diane found several photos from a modeling website of the detective posing in different revealing outfits, including one rather skimpy red bikini. The pictures were professionally done, and Diane thought that they were likely taken for a catalogue or a magazine. She studied the images looking for a photographer credit, but there was nothing on any of the photos to indicate who took them.

  “Interesting,” Diane said aloud to her empty room. “I would never have guessed it.”

  Exhausted from the day, she decided her virtual sleuthing was over for the night. She turned off and put away her computer and considered taking a long, hot bath to relax. Diane decided she was even too tired for that. After finishing her nightly rituals, she lay down on the soft pillow and quickly became groggy. Her last thought before sleep overcame her was what could possibly be in store for her tomorrow.

  Chapter 9

  Diane was restless the entire night after her ordeal at the police station. When she was able to sleep, she dreamt of a stranger standing at her window trying to get in. This thought interrupted her sleep even more. When the sun began peeking through the smattering of clouds, Diane finally decided to give up on any further restful sleep and start the day. She took her time showering and getting ready, thinking about what she could do to take her mind off of the events of the past few days. A little forced retail therapy was in order, she decided.

  Although she had taken the touring bus the previous day, Diane thought that since it was apparent she would be staying in town longer than expected, it was best if she drove herself to get some shopping done. She did not own a car but utilized a hire car when needed. There was only one place in Apple Mews that rented, and the selection was small. She had picked out a four-door, reasonably priced hire car to bring her to Devon.

  Before leaving the chalet, Diane’s cell phone rang. She looked down and saw it was her brother.

  “Hello Martin,” she said, remembering that she had forgotten to let her brother know she would be staying in town. “Did the newlyweds make it off okay?”

  “Yes, off and having a marvelous time I have no doubt,” he said. “I was starting to get a little worried about you, though. I thought you were going to call me when you made it back to Apple Mews.”

  Diane had completely forgotten to let her brother know that she would be spending an extra few days in Devon. She had not wanted to bring him into the sordid mess now consuming her trip but felt she must offer some sort of explanation.

  “Oh, Martin, I am so sorry,” she said. “At the last minute, I decided to stay a few extra days and forgot to let you know. I wanted to get a little shopping in and see some of the lighthouses.”

  “Just glad to know you’re safe,” he said. “Since you are still in Plymouth, Suzanne will insist you stop by for dinner before you head home.”

  “That sounds lovely,” she said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I’ll give you a ring.”

  Diane hung up and then phoned Albert. She decided not to tell him the whole story either at this point as there was nothing he could do and he would just worry. Diane told him that she decided to spend a few more days down in Plymouth to do some research for her next book. As this was a typical thing that Diane would do, Albert had no reason to doubt her and he seemed satisfied as she ended the call.

  Diane put the phone back in her bag and headed to her hire car. She struggled a bit with opening the door, something she had noticed since arriving in Plymouth. After checking the small map on her phone, Diane drove to the closest shopping center. It was the middle of the day midweek, and the streets and shopping area were not too crowded. It looked like there were several quaint clothing and antique shops in the area that Diane would have enjoyed, but she decided a bit of grocery shopping should be done first. She opened the car door, again with a little trouble, and walked toward the market. As the automatic door opened in front of her, Diane felt a lump catch in her throat when she saw Maxwell Carter staring back at her from the window of the electronics store next door. She slowly stepped away from the grocery store and found herself in front of the electronics store window studying a photograph of Maxwell Carter. Below the photograph was a small biography on a white card bordered slightly in black. She leaned in and read.

  Maxwell Carter—Local famed photographer Maxwell Carter’s latest exhibit The Eyes in Walls can be seen at The Art’s Center in Devon. Carter is a self-taught artist who specializes in the use of light and shadow to add texture to pieces from everyday objects to the human form. Carter’s artistic inspiration comes from photographers Lie Friedlander and Andres Serrano.

  Interesting, Diane thought. She made a mental note to stop by the gallery and to see the photos as she turned to go into the grocery store. She took a small basket from the front of the store, put her bag in the front and gathered a few necessities to last her through the week. She also picked up a small container of lubricant spray, thinking it would help with the sticky door on the car. She checked out
and led the young man who bagged her items to the car.

  “Do you go to the electronics store often?” she asked him as he put the bag in the trunk of the hire car.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “I stop in a few times a week to trade out games. Why do you ask?”

  “The poster in the window there of the photographer—have you noticed how long it has been up there?” she asked.

  “A week or so I think,” he said. “Not too long. There used to be a movie poster. I remember that because I had asked if I could have the poster when they were done with it.”

  “Did you get the poster?” she asked.

  “Oh, I wish,” he said. “Someone had beat me to it.”

  Diane thanked the young man and turned to get into the car when she again struggled with the door. Before she could try out the spray she had just purchased, the young man saw her struggle and assisted her with opening the door.

  “Wow, that is a bit sticky,” he said, also struggling with the door. “Ah, got it.”

  “Thank you so much,” she said. Diane was beginning to think that car doors were becoming somewhat of an issue for her as she aged and was glad to see someone else struggle with the door. A few minutes later she pulled into the small parking area next to her chalet. She opened the trunk, attempting to carry all of the bags to avoid multiple trips, but leaving the spray in the car. As she neared the door, a woman got out of a small red car and began hurrying over to Diane. The woman was wearing black stretch trousers, a long, crisp white shirt and camel-colored boots that came up to the bottom of her knees. Her long black hair was pulled into a bun, and she had on large sunglasses and deep, red lipstick. The woman also carried a red bag that matched her shade of lipstick to a tee.

  “Do you need some help?” the woman asked Diane.

  After her recent interactions with strangers—the man on the beach and the detectives—Diane was a little skeptical about talking to, much less taking assistance from, anyone she did not know.

  “No thank you,” Diane said. “I believe I have it.”

  “I don’t mind, and I need to speak with you,” the woman said, taking off her sunglasses.

  “Do I know you?” Diane asked.

  “No, you do not,” the woman said. “I need to know if you found a camera on the beach.”

  “Why would you be asking me this?” Diane said, putting her groceries down next to her and reaching into her bag to find her cell phone. This woman was making her uncomfortable. She was not sure if this was another police officer or a reporter, but Diane wanted to make sure she had quick access to Charles if need be.

  “Look, I know that you were with Maxwell two days ago on the beach, and I know that you were messing with his umbrella,” the woman said. “I need to know if you found a camera there or even any camera equipment.”

  “Who are you?” Diane demanded.

  “My name is Angela,” she said. “I was Maxwell’s girlfriend.”

  Angela put her head down in her hands and began to cry softly. Diane pulled her hand out of her bag and gently patted Angela on the shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Angela said. “I shouldn’t be blubbering to you.”

  “That’s alright dear,” Diane said. “I am sorry for your loss, but I did not see a camera. My interaction with Maxwell was brief and terse. Were there special photos on the camera that you are wanting to remember him by?”

  “Not exactly,” Angela said, dabbing the corner of her eyes. “Couples sometimes like to throw a little spice into the relationship. We did this by Maxwell taking some rather compromising pictures of me. It was shortly before his trip to the beach. I really need the memory card out of the camera to delete the pictures. I would be devastated if the pictures were to surface.”

  Diane thought this a bit strange. She would think that Angela would be devastated over losing a man she loved, assuming she loved him, but she seemed to be more worried about the photos. It was certainly not Diane’s place to judge, however, as she had no idea how compromising the pictures were.

  “Are you sure you did not see a camera or perhaps pick something up?” Angela asked. “The memory card could have been left behind even without the camera.”

  “Look, I am not sure how you found out about my interaction with Maxwell, but I did not know him,” Diane said pointedly. “I would have had no reason to pick anything up.”

  “You did pick up his umbrella,” Angela said.

  Diane was getting very tired of telling the same story over and over again to random strangers who seemed to know a lot more about what was going on than she did.

  “I was trying to keep it from being damaged,” she said. “I did not know who he was until I saw his picture earlier today in an electronic shop near the grocery store. I have no idea why he was so upset about me touching his umbrella, but that really was all there was to it.”

  Angela nodded, putting her sunglasses back on her face and fishing her keys out of the red purse she was carrying.

  “I understand,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I am sorry to be a bother.”

  Diane felt a little guilty. After all, the woman had just lost her boyfriend and was facing some embarrassment with the possibility of the photos she mentioned being discovered. She tried to end the conversation on a gentler note.

  “You’re not a bother,” she said. “I apologize for my tone. It has been somewhat stressful since my interaction with Maxwell, but that is certainly no reason to be rude to someone who has just had a loss such as yours.”

  “Thank you, Diane. Let’s do keep in touch about this shall we?” Angela said, pulling a card from her purse and handing it to Diane. “You are such a doll.”

  Angela hurried back to her car, and Diane picked up her grocery bags and headed for her room. She shook her head at yet another peculiar interaction with a complete stranger. She hoped she would not see Angela again, mainly because she really had nothing else to add to what she had already told her. After putting up her food, she decided to go to the gallery featuring Maxwell Carter’s photographs.

  Chapter 10

  The Arts Center was not too far from her hotel and was closer than the market she visited earlier. Diane decided a short walk would be good for her and covered the five blocks in about twenty minutes. She walked into the gallery and noticed several different exhibits that caught her eye. She likely could have stayed the afternoon, but had other things to accomplish and headed straight for the photography exhibit.

  Diane did not consider herself much of an art critic. As with most people, she knew what she liked, but also understood that attraction to art was subjective. Maxwell Carter’s exhibit was not what she particularly liked. There were several photos Diane thought she might have been able to take herself, although maybe not with the same perspective. There were photos of several inanimate objects, like a chair, a chair with a table, a watering can and wooden blocks in different shapes.

  “Really?” she said a little louder than intended.

  “Aren’t they marvelous?” a short man in a three-piece suit said as he approached her. The man was wearing round, wire-rimmed spectacles and had fashioned the remainder of his brown hair across the top of his head. “They really speak, don’t they?”

  Not wanting to be rude, Diane just smiled and nodded.

  “Did you know the artist?” Diane asked.

  “Of course,” the man said. “He was one of a kind.”

  Right, Diane thought. If these pictures were one of a kind, she was the Queen of Sheba. The man looked Diane up and down, frowned slightly and excused himself. He likely was looking for a sale of these one-of-a-kind photos and noticed other patrons more likely to spend their money.

  Diane started to leave unimpressed when she noticed some additional photos in a separate room that were part of the exhibit. These photos were definitely not of inanimate objects. These objects were quite animated, as well as scantily dressed. Diane felt herself blushing and began to turn away when she noti
ced a familiar face in the photos. She drew closer to the photograph and studied it. She was sure that a young Hazel Donnelly was staring back at her. Diane recalled the photos she found on the internet and wondered if Maxwell had taken them. She also wondered if Detective Donnelly had been in some kind of prior relationship with Maxwell when the two were younger. If that was the case, perhaps Detective Donnelly should not be involved in investigating his murder.

  Chapter 11

  After returning to her room and having a quick lunch, Diane decided to spend some time doing what she loved—writing. She opened up her laptop and delved back into her most recent novel. Writing well involved closing her mind to the outside world and stepping into the world she was creating in her imagination. This was one of the reasons she loved living in Apple Mews and felt a sudden sense of longing for home. She decided she was just going to have to find a way to make it work here in Devon. Diane spent several hours writing, looking up only when her stomach began to grumble.

  She saved her work, put the laptop away and thought about what sounded good for dinner. Pasta, she decided, and headed toward the small kitchenette. She had just started to fill a pot with water and wash some fresh tomatoes when she heard a knock at the door. Looking out the peephole she let out an audible sigh of frustration when she saw Detectives Thom and Donnelly standing outside her door. Diane opened the door and greeted them.

  “Good evening, detectives,” she said. “I was not expecting to see you so soon. Please come in. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, perhaps?”