Chapter Three

HER REAL NAME IS JOSEPHINE WALTERS, BUT EVERYONE knows her by Delphine “the Temptress of the Ocean” Lucerne. Delphine packs a quadruple threat. Not only can she act, sing, and dance, but she’s a professional swimmer. Glamorous can’t even begin to describe her beauty. What’s really great about her is that she has long dark hair, which is really rare for Hollywood starlets. Big studios always want their leading ladies to be blondes. Delphine changed that when she entered the movie studio system. Rumor has it she was a regular girl at a small five-and-dime store owned by her grandparents. Her parents died in a terrible car accident, and the only solace she could find was when she swam at the nearby public pool in her home of Youngstown, Ohio.

One day, a talent scout walked into the five-and-dime to pick up a pack of cigs and left declaring he’d found the next big star. Soon enough, the young, innocent Josephine Walters transformed into the glorious Delphine Lucerne.

“Wowza. Who would have thought the Temptress of the Ocean would be staying right here at Crossed Palms? She may be our biggest hotel guest yet,” I say. Then it dawns on me. “Wait a minute. Mr. Davenport is calling her a product. I don’t like that at all. She’s a human as far as I know. Why is Mr. Davenport doing that?”

The more I think of it the angrier I get. Walt gets up, pours a glass of water, and hands me the cup this time.

“That’s not very nice,” I say.

“You met him. Mr. Davenport is very particular. No one knows about Delphine starring in the film,” Walt says. “They’ve kept any mention of her name out of the papers in the hope of making the big reveal closer to the movie release. Since Baldwin Studios practically stole her from Powerhouse Productions, the whole studio is riding on this movie being their biggest seller. Or something like that. I don’t know a thing about Hollywood.”

I scratch my forehead.

“Is Mr. Davenport calling her a product because he wants to keep the mystery intact, or does he really think she’s an inanimate object? Because if he does, Mr. Davenport has got a lot to learn, and I intend to educate him every chance I get.”

I write down on my pad:

Examples of Products

* Yo-yos

* Cars

* The nifty watch in your pocket

* The stinky cigar you smoke

What Are Not Products

* Women

* Girls

* Humans

* And anyone whose name is Delphine Lucerne

“Now, wait a minute, Goldie. You are not to start any trouble. Mr. Davenport is a powerful man and it’s important we keep the mystery intact.”

Sometimes I wonder if Walt knows me. Discreet is my middle name. Well, actually, I don’t have a middle name.

“Walt, tomorrow is the big game. Will you have me watching the big game on the sidelines, or are you going to use your best-equipped player to strike the winning goal?”

I’m not sure if I’m using the right sports metaphors, but Walt has never been the type who likes sports. He’s a books guy. I think he gets what I’m saying.

“Delphine will arrive tomorrow with a cloak covering her face. She will be staying at the Alcove Suite. Only two hotel staff members will be allowed to tend to her personally. No other contact. That includes you, Goldie. No contact with Delphine.”

There’s no way I will miss out on the biggest news hitting St. Pascal. It’s not possible. Since I don’t want to add to Walt’s reluctance, I change the subject.

“If Delphine is the first product, what’s the second?”

Walt starts to sweat. I pray he doesn’t give me the name of Rock Hudson or Harry Belafonte or Dean Martin. Keeping Delphine under wraps will be hard enough, but add another Hollywood star to the mix and there’s bound to be chaos. I was here when the legendary rock band the Tigers stayed here at Crossed Palms, en route to their sold-out concert at the Coconut Grove Club. I spent most of my time wrangling their fans out from hiding in laundry baskets or janitor closets. It was a bit of a drag. I mean, I’m all for being a fan but it was a lot. I couldn’t bear to watch the Tigers constantly being bombarded. Of course, I also couldn’t help arranging an impromptu concert for the waitstaff. The Tigers loved it, though. They got to eat a home-cooked meal, courtesy of our incredibly talented chefs, in exchange for three songs. A win-win, if you ask me. Unfortunately, the fans got wind of the concert and infiltrated. Soon the kitchen was overrun with screaming young Tigerettes. Dad grounded me a week for that one.

“C’mon, Walter. I promise to leave Delphine alone and help in any way I can. You said it yourself: Crossed Palms doesn’t have enough manpower. Consider me the extra woman-power you’ve been dreaming about.”

Walt hesitates. He squints his eyes, rubs the sweat on the back of his neck. He then opens his desk drawer and pulls out an oversize yellow folder.

“The contents in this folder are never to be uttered, mentioned, speculated, or dreamt about. Agree?”

I fully commit by crossing my heart and hoping to die. Slowly but surely Walt opens the envelope and pulls out one photograph.

I whistle.

My eyes are practically blinded by the image: hundreds upon hundreds of diamonds assembled on what appears to be a cap of some sort. It’s the most brilliant, eye-catching thing I’ve ever seen. A crown that can be found only in fairy tales about mermaids who live in vast underwater worlds.

“What is it?” I say. I press my fingers to the photo as if the diamonds will materialize onto Walt’s desk.

“The Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. The crown jewel of the movie. A swim cap only befitting of the Temptress of the Ocean,” Walt says. “Dreamt up by the famous costume designer to the stars, Edna Blanchett. From what Mr. Davenport said, Edna Blanchett not only designed the cap but she oversaw that every individual diamond was secured in place using special tools, exactly to her and the studio’s liking. Days and days of work to create such a masterpiece. There are hundreds of individual diamonds on this cap worth more than a million dollars.”

I’ve never seen anything quite like this. A swim cap covered in sparkling jewels. It’s fantastical and so over-the-top, exactly what movie magic is all about. How can one person envision such a thing and find a way of creating it? Whoever this Edna Blanchett is, she must be a genius. Now I understand why Mr. Davenport is so worried. One sneak peek at this cap and the Crossed Palms will swarm with potential sticky fingers. It’s one thing to take care of a Hollywood superstar; it’s quite another to secure a priceless piece of art.

“Where will the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau reside while they are filming? In the vault?” I ask. The vault is Crossed Palms’s very own secured room where guests can store their valuables. I’ve never seen the inside of the vault, but I hope this changes very soon.

Walt closes the folder and shakes his head.

“Any good house detective will tell you that the less people who are aware of information, the less the risk becomes of the news leaking to the public. You’ve seen the picture of the cap. You know more than most.”

I can’t believe Walt is about to hold out on me, on his only assistant! How am I supposed to do my job if he insists on taking this path of not sharing information with me? It’s not fair. Besides, how will I learn to be a house detective?

“I think it’s way past your break time,” he says as he places the folder back inside his desk drawer. “Now I’ve got to do my rounds. C’mon.”

“You can’t be serious?”

He leads me toward the door.

“I’m sorry, Goldie. I can’t let you get involved. Mr. Davenport will be eager to place blame if something goes wrong and I won’t have him do so with you.”

“What if I am as quiet and still as a mouse? I can be a stealthy house detective, sneaking in and out of the shadows with no trace.” I lean my body up against the wall and act nonchalant while a couple of hotel guests walk past. Walt greets them and they nod hello.

“See?” I say. “They didn’t even notice me!”

Walt keeps walking.

“They did notice you. They decided not to pay any mind to the strange girl pressed against the wall.”

Sometimes Walt fails to use his imagination. I’m sure he had one back in Michigan somewhere.

“Please, please, please, Walt. You need me. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle this and Mr. Davenport and the delivery of the products. Help me help you.”

“You’re not going to stop asking, are you?” Walt wrings his hands a bit. He knows he needs me; he just doesn’t quite see it as clearly as I do. Crossed Palms is my life. I’ve also learned a lot from watching my dad, and I want to make sure we keep it running as smoothly as possible. “Persistent, that’s my middle name,” I say.

“I thought you didn’t have a middle name? Oh, never mind. I’m probably going to regret this. Be here no later than five in the morning.”

“Yes! I’m on the case. You will not regret this. I swear to you and all the jewels found on that—”

Before I can say the word cap Walt presses his finger against my lips. Oops.

“Cap,” I whisper. “I promise. I will be here. Quiet as a mouse, cunning as a fox.”

Walt shakes his head. And with that, he walks off to begin his rounds, making sure the hotel is free of any drama. While he does that, I head to the parking lot to finish up my shift.

I can’t wait to share the news with Mom and Cheryl. They won’t believe it. The Temptress of the Ocean will be here! This is major. And wait until they hear about the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. Mom is simply going to flip. She loves everything Hollywood and sparkly.

Oh. Wait a minute. I’m not supposed to tell anyone about Delphine Lucerne or the lavish cap. This is going to be tricky. The biggest news that has ever landed right on my lap, and I’m forced to keep my lips sealed.

Well, the key to being a good house detective is to know when to divulge information and to whom. As my grandmother used to say, intelligence is better than money but you have to spend it wisely. The smart thing in this situation would be to keep this stuff to myself. This is going to be a true test of my willpower. Walt expects me to keep his secret. Mr. Davenport is ready to blow a gasket at the first sign of failure. I can’t let Walt down. Quiet as a mouse. If you really think about it, mice are not that quiet. We used to have a mouse in my mom’s apartment, and I couldn’t sleep with the constant scratching and pitter-patter of its little feet. Not quiet. And where there’s one mouse there are usually more. An army of mice! How squeaky and cute it would be! But I digress.

“Welcome to the Crossed Palms Resort, where your every wish is at your fingertips,” I say to the man dressed in a nice linen suit. He calmly waits for his guest to step out of the car. She, too, is wearing linen, a pretty dress perfectly suited for Florida.

“Thank you so much,” she says to me.

“You’re welcome.”

The man in the linen suit hands me the keys to his car while the bellhop pulls out the couple’s luggage. Then Mr. Linen offers his hand to Miss Linen, and they walk together toward the entrance of the Crossed Palms. On their way in, they run into a couple of swamp monsters with seaweed dripping from their necks and hair. Miss Linen giggles at the sight.

I drive the car to the parking lot, this time holding off revving the engine too much. I wonder what life is like for Delphine Lucerne. She went from working the register of a store to gracing the cover of Life magazine. Whenever she steps outside, hundreds of reporters document her every move, while fans crave every little piece of her. To a fan, Delphine’s life seems glamorous, but I’ve seen what fame can do to a person. Take the Tigers. The boys in the band just wanted to eat home-cooked chicken noodle soup with a grilled cheese sandwich, the type of meal their parents made when they were feeling under the weather. But a simple ask became a whole production.

Does Delphine feel the same way? Does she think about her hometown? Does she wish to be like the woman in the linen suit, freely laughing at scary costumes without having a cloak covering her smile? Delphine’s life must feel like being in a bowl of water, like a goldfish. Everyone staring at you, tapping on the glass, when the only thing you want to do is swim.

Regardless of her circumstances, I will make sure to treat Delphine with the utmost respect. Just because she’s on the cover of every magazine out there doesn’t mean she doesn’t want hot soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, just like everyone else. Tomorrow, Delphine Lucerne will get the Crossed Palms Resort treatment. We treat every guest like family.

I continue parking cars and thinking about the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau, Delphine, and tomorrow until it’s time to punch out.