Chapter 14
The mystery of Marcy Grimm was now even murkier. Noted mermaid folklorist with five books in the gift shop. Five. And Cora could not even write one—even though she’d been approached over and over again.
Jane picked one up and read over the back cover copy. “This one is about the Sea Glass Island Mermaid. Evidently, there’s a legend about her.”
Cora refrained from rolling her eyes. A touristy lure if she’d ever seen one. But some of the other books appeared quite academic. Except for the mermaid art book, which was a large coffee-table book full of mermaid art from all over the world—some of it ancient.
“Oh, there’s the Waterhouse mermaid I love so much!” Jane said.
“That’s the print you have hanging in your bathroom,” Cora said.
“I love the Pre-Raphaelites. Waterhouse is my favorite,” Jane said.
“It’s kind of fancy for you,” Cora said.
“I like some fancy things,” Jane said. “Just not all fancy things.” She grinned. “I don’t like fancy doilies.”
“But you do like my doily skirt, right?” Cora said, flipping through one of Marcy’s books.
“We are selling out of those books. I think that might be the last one of the art book,” the saleslady said.
“Really?” Cora said.
“The author of the book recently passed away,” the woman said. “So all of the sudden people want her books.”
“Well, this is a beautiful book,” Cora said, and placed it back on the shelf.
The saleslady nodded. She was dressed in a beach-appropriate, colorful, floral print dress.
“Did you know Marcy?” Cora asked.
“I guess you could say I did,” she said, smiling at a passerby. “We had a book launch party here for her once.”
“I’ve heard she wasn’t a nice person,” Cora said. Jane poked her in the ribs.
“Well, she was always pleasant to me,” she replied. “But I know people who’ve had run-ins with her.” She lifted an eyebrow. “But the whole family is like that. Wealth does that to you sometimes. So they say. I don’t know many wealthy people so I couldn’t say.”
“Such a shame about what happened to her,” Jane said in a hushed voice.
“Yes, a tragedy, after she married the love of her life,” the woman said with a sigh. “It’s the stuff of romance novels.”
“What do you mean?” Jane said.
“They dated in high school, on the sly. He was from a poor family and her family didn’t want them dating. Eventually they broke up. But years later, they found each other again. Romantic, don’t you think?” She smiled.
A customer came up to her. “Do you have this shirt in pink?”
“No, I’m sorry. We only have what’s on the floor,” she replied.
“I suppose that’s romantic,” Jane said once the customer wandered off.
“He must be devastated,” Cora said.
The woman nodded her head slowly. “I heard he’s been sedated.”
Cora’s hand went to her chest. “How awful. Is he in the hospital, or is he at home?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s with his mother,” she said. “Now, there’s a character for you.”
Cora picked up another book. “What do you mean?”
“She’s a psychic, or voodoo queen, or something,” she replied. “Lives near the swamp. I never go over there. It scares the bejesus out of me. Are you going to buy a book?”
Cora thought a moment. What would Adrian say if he saw her with one of Marcy’s books?
“I’ll take this,” Jane said, reaching for the mermaid art book.
“And I’ll take this one. I might be back for the others,” Cora said, grabbing The Mermaid of Sea Glass Island book. It was the cheapest one. She would buy the other books as e-books. Her curiosity about Marcy needed to stay private, for now.
“Voodoo queen,” Jane said, as she purchased her book. “I’ve never met a voodoo queen.”
“At least not that you’re aware of,” Cora joked.
“She’s a perfectly lovely woman,” the saleswoman said as she slipped Jane’s book into a bag. “You don’t want to cross her.” She winked.
“No, I suppose not,” Jane said.
Cora assumed she was joking, but she still felt a cold shiver. Psychics. Mermaids. Murder on the beach.
She handed the saleslady her book.
“Now, this is an interesting book,” she said.
“I thought so,” Cora replied.
“I had an uncle who swore he saw her,” the woman said as she swiped Cora’s card.
“Saw who?” Cora said.
“The mermaid, dear,” she said, looking at her above the top of her glasses.
Cora laughed.
“I’m serious,” the saleslady said, as she place Cora’s book into a bag. “Of course, it was a long time ago, before the storm took away a large chunk of our island. My uncle was not a man to invent stories. He said he saw her plain as day, swimming. Said he’s never seen such a beautiful creature and she glowed like an angel or fairy.” A wistful note came through in her voice.
Cora refrained from rolling her eyes. She was aware of things in this world that couldn’t be explained and she didn’t want to be the kind of person who was closed off to angels, for example. But mermaids? Mermaids were another matter.