Murder on the Boardwalk, Page 2

  Nancy’s eyes brightened, and Rosa saw a glimpse of her old friend in them. “Golly! Now that sounds like a story I’d like to hear!”

  2

  Diego poked his fuzzy little face through the opening of Rosa’s satchel and meowed.

  Nancy jumped. “Holy moly!”

  Rosa bit back her grin. “This is Diego. I found him behind the bakery just before I ran into your mother.”

  Nancy let out a sharp laugh. “I wondered why you were carrying such an ugly bag. I thought all your fashion sense had gone by the wayside or something.”

  “It’s purely practical.” Rosa lifted Diego out of the satchel and kissed his head, silently thanking him for breaking the ice.

  “Oh, he’s so sweet,” Nancy cooed. “Can I hold him?”

  “Of course.”

  As Nancy snuggled Diego, her eyes went shiny with sympathy. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your lord.”

  Rosa had to laugh at that. “All those titles and class differences sound very posh from this side of the world.”

  Nancy limply flapped her palm. “Very posh. You sound so English, Rosa.”

  “Well, I am rather English.”

  “I suppose.” Nancy eyed Rosa as she handed back Diego. “You know who’s playing in the band?”

  “Yes,” Rosa said without catching Nancy’s gaze. “Gloria mentioned it.”

  “Eddie’s over there already, with some of his buddies. I’m headed that way.”

  Rosa glanced about for Gloria and saw she and her friends were halfway there too.

  “I’m fine,” Rosa said. “Miguel and I have already become reacquainted, and he has a fiancée now. I’m fine.”

  Nancy narrowed her eyes knowingly. “You’ve said that twice.”

  “Then it must be true.”

  Rosa thought she could easily hang out with Gloria and Nancy and the others and not watch the band. She had Diego to keep her distracted. Right? However, when she rounded the corner to the amphitheater, the first person she saw was Miguel, front and center, on the stage—a guitar slung across a shoulder.

  His black hair was oiled back and, for the occasion, styled with a duckbill fringe which hovered over a brow shiny with moisture from the afternoon heat. He and his band members wore casual clothes for this beachside show—khaki-colored pants and short-sleeve, button-down shirts—but all Rosa could see were Miguel’s dimples and copper-brown eyes.

  “Are you coming?” Gloria asked, skipping back toward Rosa to grab her hand. Rosa had unintentionally stopped in place. Nodding numbly, she moved forward with her cousin as she tore her eyes from the stage.

  Rosa hadn’t seen so many poodle skirts in one place before, and the fascination with saddle shoes became apparent as she watched the guys spin the girls around. They were perfect for sliding across the waxed floor.

  The color and music intoxicated Rosa, and she took a moment to recognize Nancy, already out on the dance floor with an older version of Eddie Kline. Nancy’s blue swing skirt spun out around her with each of her twists and turns. Marjorie had also partnered up.

  Rosa and Gloria didn’t have to wait long on the fringes before being approached by two good-looking fellows dressed in plain plaid button-downs and cotton slacks which were cuffed at the ankles and showed glimpses of pairs of colorful dress socks. One of them spoke for them both. “Would you ladies like to dance?”

  Rosa held up her satchel. “I’m sorry, but I have my kitten with me.” She turned to Gloria, trying to assess her cousin’s eagerness to dance. The way her feet were tapping, Rosa thought she could safely assume she was ready to twirl. “You go ahead.”

  Gloria linked arms with one of the men and the other took his leave. Rosa felt bad that he hadn’t bothered to ask either Joyce or Pauline to dance. Only a second later, Joyce proclaimed, “I’m going for some lemonade,” and headed for a nearby stand. Rosa hoped Joyce hadn’t sensed her pity.

  Mick and the Beat Boys rang the first note of “That’ll Be the Day”, and many of the dance partners changed. Gloria disappeared into the fray, and Marjorie spun into the middle with a new partner, a shorter man in a trim short-sleeved cotton shirt, summer slacks, and a pair of leather shoes.

  Music was Rosa’s enemy! All the lyrics of the most popular songs seemed to apply to some point and time in Rosa and Miguel’s short but emotional romance. You say you’re going to leave, you know it’s a lie, cuz that’ll be the day when I die.

  Rosa had left, but Miguel hadn’t died.

  “That’s my brother, Henry,” Pauline said, pulling Rosa out of her reverie.

  Rosa blinked and focused on the movement on the dance floor. “Which one?”

  “He’s dancing the jive with Marjorie.”

  Rosa admired the quick-footed work performed by each partner as they held hands loosely, breaking apart and coming together again on the beat.

  Clearly, they’d danced together before. “Oh, are they sweethearts?”

  “No, no,” Pauline said quickly. “He’s too old for her.”

  Rosa hummed, thinking that she’d heard that one before, but said nothing.

  Pauline wistfully added, “The jive is my favorite dance, I think. It looks like such fun.”

  Rosa agreed. “Especially if you have the right dance partner.”

  Inexplicably, Rosa’s gaze shot back to Miguel. She pinched her eyes and shook her head as if that would help rid it of unwanted thoughts. Unbidden, her mind went to a time when she and Miguel had danced hand in hand to Vera Lynn singing the 1943 hit “We’ll Meet Again”. The rich sounds of brass instruments in the orchestra added to the emotions behind Vera Lynn’s husky voice, “Don’t know where, don’t know when…”

  Finally, and blessedly, the music stopped. Rosa’s friends separated from their dance partners and made their way over, bringing Rosa a welcome distraction.

  Nancy motioned to her husband. “You remember Eddie.”

  Rosa smiled. “Of course. Nice to see you again.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” Eddie said, arms wide and beckoning. “Give us a hug.”

  Rosa held in her dismay and leaned in to Eddie sideways, keeping her shoulder to his chest. Eddie wore round glasses and was thicker around the middle than she remembered, but his gray shorts and baby-blue button-down matched Nancy beautifully, and they looked good together.

  Marjorie spoke in a loud whisper that commanded the ladies’ attention. “Ooh, did any of you see who’s working on the boardwalk now?” She punctuated two names that Rosa recognized. “Victor. Boyd.”

  Victor Boyd, more than anyone Rosa had gone to school with, had been a memorable character. When she had first arrived in Santa Bonita in 1941, she’d had a difficult time making friends. Many of the other kids thought her accent was strange, and the war had made everyone, even children and youths, suspicious of anyone different. She’d been an immediate outcast.

  An outcast himself, Victor Boyd had come to Rosa’s defense. Rosa would never forget how he had stood up to the other students and told them to stop mocking her accent. He didn’t seem to care when the bullying turned to him instead.

  “Remember when we were supposed to be on blackout, and he started to flash the lights in the classroom?” Joyce said.

  “Oh, and the way he used to sabotage my parts count at the aircraft plant,” Nancy added. “I’d end up assembling only half of the daily quota and getting in trouble for it?”

  During the war, the older girls had all worked together after school at the local aircraft plant. Nancy had been the most adept by far at assembling parts and rewiring components.

  Giddy laughs erupted among them as they shared stories. Rosa thought it odd to hear the lighthearted lilts to their voices. In reality, it had been such a bleak time.

  After taking a long gulp of her lemonade, Joyce added, “But Pauline had it the worst.”

  “He teased you about being a tomboy, huh, Pauline?” Nancy said.

  Rosa recalled how Pauline had come to classes in
overalls and baseball caps, while the rest of her female classmates wore dresses, stockings, and matching Mary Janes. Pauline’s mother had passed away around that time, and her father—a well-respected mechanic and weapons expert—didn’t quite know how to take care of his only daughter. He died tragically as well, and his death had made headline news in Santa Bonita.

  Pauline’s lip twitched, but she didn’t respond to Nancy’s comment. She kept her gaze glued to her hands, clasped at her waist.

  Joyce missed seeing Pauline’s discomfort and continued, “He was always making jokes about offering you up for the draft.”

  “Victor picked on me,” Gloria added sourly, “and I was just a little kid. He should pay for all the awful things he did.”

  Marjorie motioned for the group to follow her. “Come on. Let’s go see. I wonder if he’s gotten fat and bald!”

  A snicker emanated from the ladies as they jumped to follow Marjorie. Rosa checked on Diego, awake but playing with his cloth mouse, then feeling morbidly curious, followed the girls.

  Away from the music of the band, clanging bells and hooting whistles filled the air. Chatter and screams drifted from happy riders.

  Rosa stood in awe by the giant roller coaster and its yellow and blue sign that read, “The Sea Viper”. Her breath caught in her throat as the loud clack, clack, clack of the cars on the track reverberated through her whole body. She had always felt better when she was in control of a vehicle. Letting Gloria or her mother drive felt risky enough for her. The track wound around in snake-like fashion, and for a long moment, Rosa couldn’t pull her gaze away.

  “There! Look!” Marjorie said in an excited whisper. “There’s Victor Boyd!”

  Wearing a black T-shirt, stretched over what was now a paunch of a belly, and grubby jeans, Rosa immediately recognized the former bully. He still had most of his hair, though it looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in six months. As a carnie ride operator, he hadn’t exactly reached the height of an accomplished life.

  Rosa wasn’t alone in thinking this. Nancy harrumphed and said, “Well, there you go. At least fate gave him what was coming.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Marjorie asked, not trying to be quiet in the least. There was a good chance Victor could hear her. “After everything he did to you girls? He doesn’t deserve a job in our beautiful town.”

  Joyce chimed in. “I agree!”

  Gloria, still a few feet back, looked as though she was surveying the rest of the fair, and Rosa sensed she’d lost interest in Victor Boyd.

  However, at the loud voices of their friends, Victor turned his head and stared straight at them. His attention was unnerving, and everyone stopped talking at once—like a drove of baaing sheep suddenly aware of a wolf in their midst.

  His dark-eyed gaze locked onto Rosa and she couldn’t stop herself from offering a small wave. He didn’t wave back.

  “Enough about him,” Nancy finally said. She flapped a hand at the roller coaster. “Let’s get back to dancing!”

  3

  Some of Rosa’s fondest childhood memories were of her parents dancing. Basil and Ginger Reed were renowned for their fancy footwork on the dance floor, whether it was the waltz, a Latin tango, or old-time Charleston. So, it wasn’t surprising that Rosa had a fondness for music and dancing herself. Watching these young people back at the bandstand dancing the boogie-woogie and the jitterbug had Rosa’s feet tapping and her heart smiling.

  Nancy, Marjorie, Joyce, and Gloria had all once again taken quickly to the dance floor with partners. Though Rosa would’ve loved to dance, she wasn’t prepared to do so with a stranger, especially so soon after breaking off an engagement. But even if she had been ready to dance with someone new, there was no way on God’s green earth she would stumble about under the spotlights with Miguel on stage and watching.

  Diego earned his weight in gold, as time after time she produced him as an excuse to say no to a disappointed young man, most of whom found patting her kitten’s soft head strangely reconciliatory.

  Miguel moved around the stage fluidly and looked more like the youthful and spirited soldier Rosa knew in the mid-forties than the police detective with whom she had recently become reacquainted. Despite her best efforts, Rosa couldn’t stop watching him on stage.

  And Miguel watched her too.

  Rosa quickly averted her eyes. How embarrassing to be caught staring!

  What she and Miguel had once shared was lost with the past, and so much had happened since then, even more than her near marriage to Winston.

  Rosa shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Lord Winston Eveleigh—to think of her former fiancé was to think about his sister. Vivien Eveleigh had been Rosa’s closest friend in London, and her murder, still unsolved, had shattered Rosa’s heart.

  Pauline was the only one of the former school friends who, like Rosa, stayed off the dance floor, though in Pauline’s case, sadly, it was because no one had asked her. If only ladies could dance together, Rosa herself would have asked Pauline to dance.

  “Are you having fun?” Rosa asked, attempting to draw the shy girl out.

  “Oh, sure,” Pauline said, then looked away as if frightened Rosa might ask her another question.

  Impulsively, Rosa held out her kitten. “This is Diego.”

  On cue, Diego let out a sweet little “mew” to greet Pauline. Diego didn’t seem to react to the loud music and carnival noises. Her kitten seemed up for anything.

  Pauline reached over to scratch Diego under the chin, and he held his head back as if asking for more.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Rosa asked.

  Pauline’s eyes warmed, and Rosa had the feeling the girl preferred her friends to have fur on them. After placing Diego into Pauline’s hands, Rosa continued to scratch the soft hair around his neck.

  “Aren’t you a sweety-pie,” Pauline cooed as though the kitten was the one needing reassurance.

  Rosa could picture Pauline at home with several cats. Perhaps that was where she did most of her talking.

  In silent agreement, Rosa and Pauline sat on a nearby bench as the band broke into another song, and the dancers did the cha-cha. This dance was a favorite of Rosa’s, and her toes tapped along. Diego, not nearly as caught up in the band or the music, kneaded his tiny paws on Pauline’s lap.

  Nancy danced with Eddie, who Rosa uncharitably thought had two left feet. Despite their clumsy turn about the dance floor, they were both laughing and looked to be having fun. Marjorie danced with a sturdy-looking guy with blond hair and a skinny mustache, so it appeared that Henry Van Peridon wasn’t her only choice. Joyce and a very tall man with a bowling-style shirt left the floor to get drinks from the vendor on the other side of the room. The way he gazed with affection at Joyce made Rosa think this wasn’t their first dance together.

  Gloria and her dance partner, a handsome Asian man, drew a round of applause from onlookers. Rosa was astounded by how good they were. Dance genes obviously ran in the family.

  When the song ended, Gloria strutted toward Rosa and Pauline, out of breath and glistening.

  “Who were you dancing with?” Rosa asked.

  “Oh, just a fellow in need of a partner.”

  “You’re both terrific.”

  “Ah, thanks, Rosa. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find a restroom.”

  “I saw some on our way in.” Rosa pointed to the portable lavatory stalls they’d passed near the carnival tents, but Gloria wrinkled her nose.

  “I’ll just walk down to the Surfside Lobster Bar. Mom knows the manager. They’ll let me use their facilities.” She pointed beyond the pier and down to a seaside restaurant, which was lit by a neon sign.

  Neon lighting was another big change in the town since Rosa had last been in California. As far as the eye could see, bright pink, orange, and yellow lights dotted different beachfront establishments all down the shoreline. It was especially spectacular after dark.

  “It looks like quite a walk,” Rosa
said. “Would you like me to come with you?” She glanced at her purring kitten.

  Gloria was already moving away from the bench and waved a casual hand. “I’ll be back in a jiffy. They probably don’t want too many non-eating patrons barging in anyway.”

  Moments later, still laughing and breathing hard from dancing, Marjorie and Nancy made their way to Rosa. She didn’t notice where their dance partners had disappeared to, but Joyce and the tall man continued to spin around the dance floor together.

  “Come on! We’re going on the wonder wheel,” Marjorie said.

  Rosa didn’t know what a “wonder wheel” was, but Pauline stood, lifting Diego off her lap. Rosa accepted the kitten into her arms. “I should stay until Gloria gets back,” she said. It wouldn’t do for them to get parted in this crowd.

  “I caught her on her way out,” Marjorie said. “She’s going to meet us at the ride platform later.”

  “And what about Joyce?”

  “She and her husband, Don, said they’re leaving after this dance.”

  Joyce had a husband? That was why she hadn’t felt embarrassed at not being asked to dance earlier. “Is he that tall fellow?”

  Marjorie chuckled. “Don Welks is nearly seven feet tall! Joyce looks like a child next to him.”

  Rosa tucked Diego back into her satchel and followed them. It wasn’t until Marjorie tugged her toward the end of the dock, not the rides, that she understood.

  “Oh! The Ferris wheel?” As she hurried to keep up, Rosa took another peek into her handbag. Even through all the commotion, or perhaps because of it, Diego had fallen asleep again. She hadn’t thought she’d be braving any rides tonight with Diego with her, but she’d always wanted to ride a Ferris wheel, and from the looks of things, her kitten would sleep right through it.

  With the band and dance going strong, there was almost no lineup for the Ferris wheel.