Murder on the Boardwalk, Page 3

  “Where did Eddie go?” Rosa asked Nancy after noticing he was missing.

  “He went home. He has an early shift tomorrow.” Nancy went on ahead and paired up with Pauline on the platform for the next Ferris wheel car. For a moment, Rosa felt a little hurt that Nancy hadn’t linked arms with her, but time had changed many things, and her friendship with Nancy was one of them.

  Marjorie pulled Rosa onto the Ferris wheel with her. The rocking car felt much more unsteady than Rosa had expected it to, and she swallowed to moisten her parched throat as the carnie operating the ride pulled a rope across their laps to hold them in.

  “I’ve never been on an amusement park ride,” Rosa admitted.

  Marjorie shot her a look of surprise. “Never in your life? They don’t have fairs in London?”

  “Not quite like this.”

  The chair jerked forward, and Rosa held in a gasp. Diego stared up from his spot in the satchel and mewed.

  “We’ll be all right,” Rosa said. A second later, though, their car lifted off, and her stomach dropped out from underneath her. “Oh.”

  Marjorie laughed. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing to it. Once it gets going, it’s a lot of fun. But you must relax and enjoy the view. Take a few deep breaths.”

  As a London police officer, Rosa experienced plenty of uncomfortable and dangerous situations. But something about going up, with barely a strap to hold her in, played on her fears.

  Once their car reached a steady pace, it jerked less, and she focused on the view. Moments later, as the pier and most of Santa Bonita came into view, her gasp was that of awe. The businesses lining the beach looked like colorful toys on the sand, and the sun sparkling above her seemed close. The whole town felt so much grander than it had before.

  As Rosa’s carriage reached the top for the second time, she found she was able to watch the roller coaster as it traveled quickly on its course. Impulsively she looked for Victor Boyd, and spotted his dark head at his position at the control platform. Coming up from behind was the unmistakable figure of Joyce’s husband, Don, in his bowling shirt, his long legs making fast strides. He towered over Victor, but even from her position above the crowds she could see that the conversation that ensued was unpleasant. Don Welks pointed a long finger in Victor’s face, and Victor, who was shorter but beefier, slapped it away. Don Welks stepped back, then pivoted, before marching away.

  “Did you see that?” Rosa said as their carriage began its descent.

  “See what?” Marjorie asked.

  “Victor Boyd and Don Welks were having words.”

  Marjorie strained her head. “Shoot. I missed it. Was Joyce there?”

  “No,” Rosa answered, wondering where Don Welks had left his wife. Perhaps in their car, but what had made him so determined to speak to Victor Boyd before leaving?

  The ride slowed, pausing carriage by carriage to let the riders off. When they regrouped with the others, Marjorie called out, “Next stop: tilt-a-whirl!”

  Rosa didn’t know what a “tilt-a-whirl” was, but she was pretty confident it would not be a cat-appropriate ride, not that any of the carnies would likely agree to let her on board if they knew what was in her bag.

  “I’ll watch from the sidelines,” Rosa announced. “I’ve got my kitten with me.”

  It turned out that Rosa wouldn’t see much of the tilt-a-whirl experience from the sidelines as the ride was housed in a large wooden building. Rosa waved when the lineup disappeared inside. It was probably a good idea for her to keep an eye out for Gloria. Where was she? Rosa felt a tickle of worry. Gloria should’ve made it back from the restaurant by now.

  Happy screams erupted from the nearby roller coaster each time it rounded the corner with a new load of riders, and Rosa wondered what thrilling hill or curve lay beyond her vision. Fairgoers passed her with popcorn or cotton candy in their hands, chattering away to each other with smiles on their faces.

  The tilt-a-whirl building had patrons exiting, but none were yet her group of friends. The carousel had also stopped and let folks off. The roller coaster rounded the corner for the third time—she’d been counting—when several riders waved their hands at the control platform, presumably to get Victor Boyd’s attention.

  Why hadn’t the ride been stopped? And where was Victor Boyd?

  Rosa grabbed Diego’s squirmy body and pushed him back into her satchel before hurrying toward the control platform.

  What in heaven’s name was going on?

  4

  As the control platform for the roller coaster came into view, Rosa saw that the small square pad that housed the levers and controls for the ride sat empty. The entire upper half of the platform—with only four corner beams running to a metal roof—was open. Had Victor simply walked off with the ride still running?

  The roller coaster whooshed past Rosa as she continued to move toward the control platform while Diego did everything in his power to squirm out of her bag. Rosa had no idea how to operate a roller coaster, but she had to do something!

  Folks on the runaway ride called out, “Hey!” and “When is this going to stop?”

  A young carnie who couldn’t have been more than seventeen, ran from around the back of the roller coaster and toward the control platform. The kid wore jeans, a gray T-shirt, a dingy brown apron with tear-off tickets sticking out of the top, and a nametag that read “SKIP”.

  “What’s going on with the coaster?” he said to no one. “Where the heck is Vic?”

  Skip unlatched a lock, swung the gate open, and swore. Rosa, having stayed close behind, could see around his back. Victor Boyd was slumped into the bottom half of the small platform.

  Skip kicked at Victor’s shoes. “Hey, you stoned?”

  Rosa stepped around Skip. “Can you stop the ride?”

  Skip stared at the controls. “There’s some sorta defect.” He ran for the wire mesh fence housing the roller coaster, yelling over his shoulder, “Don’t touch nothing!” Deftly, he pulled himself over the fence, and flipped open a gray fuse box attached to a post.

  As he pulled a lever to stop the roller coaster, Rosa lowered her satchel to the floor. “Stay put,” she said to Diego, then turned her attention to Victor. “Victor? Victor Boyd? Can you hear me?”

  The chains running along the nearby roller coaster track slowed, and soon the clack, clack, clack from the roller coaster grew noticeably slower until it finally came to a stop.

  Victor remained unresponsive. His head was turned at an awkward angle, and his unkempt dark hair was mussed over his eyes. Rosa shook him by the shoulders, but he didn’t rouse. Reaching for his neck with two fingers, she was vaguely aware of the complaints coming from the roller coaster riders.

  Rosa could find no pulse.

  Victor Boyd was dead.

  “What? What’s going on with Vic?” Skip asked, when he returned. “Why’d he pass out?”

  Rosa checked her watch and then stood, surveying the situation. She turned to Skip. “You said there was a defect? What did you mean?”

  “The train shoulda stopped after two rounds.” Skip pointed to the control panel. “See them there black splotches? Looks like burn marks. And the lever shoulda had rubber on it. They all got rubber on them for safety.”

  Skip kicked at Victor’s feet again. “Dude!”

  Rosa placed a palm on the carnie’s arm and shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  Skip stared back blankly. “What?”

  “Skip, I need you to do two things for me, all right?” Rosa forced Skip to look into her eyes. “Report this incident to your manager and tell him to call an ambulance, then immediately go to the bandstand and talk to the lead singer. His name is Detective Belmonte. Tell him Rosa needs him urgently at the roller coaster. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Tell Mr. Henderson and fetch a detective.” Skip turned and jogged away.

  Rosa struggled to close the gate on the control platform again, as one of Victor’s legs had wedged into the o
pening. She didn’t want to move his body, but she also couldn’t risk having any fair patrons happen upon him in this state. She knew from experience that a dead body would most certainly cause pandemonium.

  After nudging Victor’s leg almost back onto the platform, Rosa pushed the gate as far as it would go, and just in time. A moment later, a man with angular features stomped toward her. He flailed his arms to the sides and yelled, “What the heck happened with the ride? Where’s the carnie? My daughter just got off and threw up, ya know?”

  Rosa wasn’t about to tell him one ride operator had died, and the ticket-taker had raced for help. Instead, she held her satchel with a squirming Diego in front of her and stood in front of the crack in the gate, hoping to obscure the irate man’s vision.

  “I’m reporting this to the pier office right now!” He shook a fist in Rosa’s direction as though the incident had been her fault.

  Rosa called after him, “Yes, you should do that. Right away!” The pier office should know what had just transpired at their roller coaster, and if Skip failed to do as she’d instructed then perhaps this man would bring them the news.

  Keeping an eye on Victor Boyd’s body, Rosa remained at the control platform. A line had formed on the opposite side with fairgoers oblivious to the hazards of this ride. She hoped none, with their growing impatience, would wander over to find the dead operator.

  Two other carnies came by, and Rosa diverted them from getting too close by asking, “Do either of you have a sign that will close the ride temporarily? There’s been an accident, and it would be terrific if you could make sure the pier manager knows about it.”

  The carnies looked at each other, nodded, and then rushed off in the direction they’d come from to grab some signage.

  Rosa continued to keep the site quiet. Word getting out would not be good—not for the pier’s business, but more importantly—if the news was contained, the police would have a clean and calm scene to investigate. For all Rosa knew, Victor could have died of natural causes, but Skip’s mention of a “defect” had her instincts on high alert. Besides, she was trained to treat all deaths as suspicious until they were unquestionably ruled as accidental.

  Diego didn’t like missing out on the action, it seemed, and before Rosa could stop him, he perched his tiny paws along the top rim of her satchel and launched out of it.

  “Diego!”

  If he wandered off, Rosa wouldn’t be able to leave the body to go after him. But fortunately, her kitten was only interested in a small pool of water that had formed behind the control platform, and began drinking.

  Rosa felt a wave of remorse. “I’m sorry, Diego, I should be taking better care of you.” Giving her kitten a moment to quench his thirst, Rosa picked him up. She lined her face up with his as if looking him in the eye might help him understand.

  “I’ll get you another drink, one that’s not part of a crime scene, just as soon as I can.” Rosa lowered Diego back into her bag. “But for now, it would be best for everyone if you took a little nap.”

  Just as she looked up, two men rushed at her from different directions. One was Miguel, concern etched on his face, and the other was a pudgy short man, in a wrinkled white shirt and a well-worn hat, who kept a good pace despite his stubby legs and big belly. Rosa had the impression he walked fast wherever he went. His eyebrows pulled together—stern bordering on angry—and as he approached, he called out, “What’s going on here? And who are you? What are you doing here?”

  When the man moved closer, Rosa saw his nametag: JOE HENDERSON—MANAGER.

  At the same time, Miguel called out, “What’s wrong, Rosa? I heard you needed my help?”

  Rosa looked between them for mere seconds before settling her eyes on Mr. Henderson and delivering the news. As a police officer, she knew Miguel would overhear the information directed at others, and besides, she didn’t have time for formal introductions. If they came much closer, they would likely get a visual clue of what had recently transpired.

  “I’m afraid there’s been an incident,” Rosa said to Mr. Henderson. She’d had the sad experience of relaying news of a loved one’s death to relatives or of dead employees to business managers often. One thing she’d learned was that you never knew how the person left behind might react. It was essential to be clear and concise, but with a soft and compassionate tone. “The roller coaster wasn’t stopping, and when Skip, the ticket-taker, and I came over to investigate, we found the operator collapsed on the platform.”

  At her words, Miguel took a few steps forward, and peered over the chest-high ledge into the control platform. His eyes flashed with understanding. Rosa motioned to Miguel as she continued to address Mr. Henderson. “This is Detective Belmonte from the Santa Bonita Police Department. I’m afraid I couldn’t find a pulse on the operator. Do you have a first aid attendant on-site?”

  Mr. Henderson stepped up to the platform, stared at the body, then stepped away. As if the sight of a corpse was a typical day-to-day affair, his stern expression never wavered. Rosa had to wonder how many of his carnies had collapsed at their posts.

  Miguel reached for the gate. “May I?”

  He brushed past Rosa before she could step completely out of the way. They paused as if touching had surprised them both, before Miguel took another step and squatted before the body. As he checked for a pulse, Rosa turned back to Mr. Henderson.

  “I’m a police officer from London.” She shook his hand. “WPC Rosa Reed. I’m in town on holiday, but I happened to be at the right place at the right time—or the wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose. I’ve tried to keep the situation as quiet as possible, but a long line of people are waiting to board the roller coaster.”

  Mr. Henderson grunted.

  “I sent a couple of carnies to post a sign,” Rosa continued, “but before any of them start asking questions, you may want to say that there’s been a technical difficulty, and you’re temporarily closing the roller coaster. Do you know if an ambulance has been called?”

  Mr. Henderson nodded, a cuss word escaping his lips. “I called for them myself.” He reached for a wooden sign behind the door that read, CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE.

  Rosa silently chided herself. If she’d taken a closer look, she could’ve hung the sign herself. She blamed Diego for distracting her, but when she peered down at his sweet, inquisitive face, her annoyance was short lived.

  “Mr. Henderson,” Miguel said. “Please make sure the police are called.”

  The manager snorted, then hurried off as fast as his short legs could take him.

  Miguel patted his shirt pockets out of habit but came up empty.

  Digging through her satchel, Rosa reached around Diego’s warm, fuzzy body and produced a notebook and pen.

  Miguel received it with a look of gratitude. “Thanks.” He surveyed the platform as Rosa filled him in on what she knew.

  “The body is as I found it. As you can see, there aren’t any signs of blood, only some bodily fluid issues.” Rosa pointed to the wet spots she had just noticed on Victor’s jeans. These reactions were common in the recently deceased. “There appear to be burn marks on the fingers of the right hand.”

  Miguel glanced up. “Electrocution?”

  “That would be my guess,” Rosa said. “Skip, a carnie who arrived on the scene at the same time as I did, noticed some blackened marks on the control panel.” Rosa pointed to the areas. “And also mentioned the levers are usually covered in rubber for safety.”

  Only now did Rosa grasp that if Skip hadn’t been there to help, she could have quite possibly electrocuted herself. She needed to read up on the technicalities of electricity and electrical engineering.

  Miguel glanced up from his notes. “Did you happen to notice the time?”

  Rosa tapped her wristwatch. “I found him like this at sixteen forty-eight.”

  Their gazes locked, and a moment of silence stretched between them. When they had police business to discuss, they were great together, Rosa muse
d, but then out of nowhere, her heart interfered in the most juvenile way, and, quite inappropriately, she was contemplating how attractive Miguel was when in take-charge mode.

  “Rosa?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry, my mind drifted.” Rosa had to rein in her thoughts! Best to get back to business and the seriousness of the current situation. “What can I do to help?”

  “Would you mind going to the bandstand to let my piano player, Terence, know what’s happened? My partner, Detective Sanchez, is here somewhere. Ask Terence to find him and send him my way. The band can go on without me or bow out of the second set.

  “Would you mind watching Diego? It’ll be easier for me to run.”

  Miguel looked up in surprise. “You brought your cat to the fair?”

  Rosa flashed him a wry smile over her shoulder as she rushed away.

  5

  By the time Rosa had returned to the scene at the roller coaster, yellow rope had been strung up by the police, blocking off the area. People stood in groups, staring and pointing, curious as to why the roller coaster had stopped, some expressing outrage at having paid good money to come to the fair, and how disappointing it was!

  Pushing past them, Rosa wondered if Miguel had discovered anything new while she was gone. But Marjorie and her group, who were laughing and obviously not aware of the emergency, intercepted her.

  “You missed a neato keeno ride, Rosa!” Marjorie stood between Rosa and Rosa’s view of Miguel.

  “Oh. Yes. Well . . .” Rosa ducked her head to the side, feeling caught between the need to explain herself to her group of friends and the urge to return to Miguel and the scene.

  Nancy followed Rosa’s gaze. “What’s going on over there?”

  Mr. Henderson, marching in his ox-like fashion, was bearing toward Miguel, and Rosa didn’t want to miss what the manager had to say. Even though she wasn’t officially working with the police department on this case, she was a material witness and couldn’t help but feel invested.