SHE WAS WATCHING MAYA PLAYING at the water’s edge with another little girl when a shadow fell over her. Letty looked up. It was Joe. But not no-nonsense spit-and-polish Detective Joe DeCurtis. This was Joe Sixpack, bare-chested, barefoot, dressed in gaudy floral board shorts, holding a small Yeti cooler.
“Hey,” he said, looking down at her. “Ava told me you guys were down here. Mind if I join you?”
She shrugged. “It’s a public beach.”
“Wow. Okay. Never mind.” He turned and began to trudge back toward the motel.
Letty regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. She glanced toward the beach, where Maya and the other little girl were busily drizzling wet sand on each other’s legs, and shrieking with delight.
“Joe!” she called.
He kept walking.
She jumped to her feet and ran after him. “Hey. Slow down!”
But he didn’t stop or slow down, so she sped up, caught him by the arm.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a bitchy thing to say. Come on back, please?”
“I’m good,” he said, his expression flat. “Wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It’s not an imposition.” She bit her lip. “Look, I’m kinda rusty at making new friends. Give me another chance, okay?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She pointed toward the beach blanket, actually one of the motel’s old floral bedspreads, where she’d set up camp. “Plenty of room.”
Joe followed her back to her spot and looked around. “Where’s Maya?”
“Down there by the water. She’s having a ball. Living her best life.”
He sat down and opened the cooler. “Beer or hard cider?”
“Don’t judge me, but I do enjoy a hard cider,” she said, and he handed her a can flecked with bits of crushed ice. She examined the label. “Three Daughters. Never heard of it.”
“It’s a local craft brewery. One of my high school buddies started a brewery. They’ve got a tasting room in downtown St. Pete. I work security there sometimes if they’re having a big event. It’s pretty good stuff.”
Letty popped the top and took a sip. “Nice and light. Very refreshing. Thanks.”
He leaned back on his elbows and looked out at the horizon. The beach was packed with sun worshippers, polka-dotted with bright-colored umbrellas and beach chairs. Music drifted from radios, and seagulls pecked at something in the sand. A cluster of older women, dressed in modest swimsuits, had set up nearby beneath a pop-up tent, and were playing cards.
“Not bad for March, huh?” he said, glancing over at her. “Looks like you’re turning into a real Floridian. Am I allowed to tell you that I like that bathing suit, or does that make me sound like a perv?”
She’d splurged and bought herself an inexpensive bikini from a surf shop a few blocks away. It was black with hot-pink piping, and showed off her deepening tan. But she felt suddenly self-conscious under the warmth of his gaze.
“Not too pervy,” she said finally. “Thanks.”
Joe nodded at Maya, who was dumping buckets of water into the moat of the castle Letty helped her build earlier in the afternoon. “Who’s Maya’s new friend?”
“Just a little girl who’s here with her parents, visiting her grandma,” Letty said, pointing at the women gathered under the tent. “I think her name’s Esme. I’m so glad that they’re playing together outside in the fresh air. It’s hard, you know? Maya’s either at work with me or Isabelle all week, or cooped up in our room. I feel guilty that I let her spend so much time watching television, or playing the little games I have on my phone.”
“Doesn’t seem to have hurt her,” Joe said. “You, on the other hand, look like someone who could use a night off. I’ve seen you running around the Surf. You’re like the Energizer Bunny. You never stop.”
“I’m grateful to have a job, grateful to your mom for letting me bring Maya to work with me,” Letty said. “Most nights, after dinner, I put Maya to bed and I’m so tired I fall asleep after maybe thirty minutes of trying to watch television.”
“But you’re taking a beach day today,” he pointed out.
“Seems almost criminal to be at the beach, yet not on the beach,” Letty said. “This weather is so amazing, I still can’t believe it’s winter in the rest of the country.”
“You mean, like, in New York?” He said it casually, but Letty heard the intent behind the question. She decided it was best not to evade the question.
“Yeah.”
“How long did you live there?” he asked.
“Five or six years.” She needed to shut down this line of questioning. “Hey, what’s going to happen with Ben Dover and his stepmom? Are they still in jail?”
“They’re still there, and I don’t see either one of ’em getting out anytime soon,” Joe said. “That story about going to visit her kids was bullshit. When we popped the lock on the trunk of that Impala we found an electronic credit card skimmer and boxes of credit card blanks. Those two are bad news.”
“Did you tell Ava about what you found?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, taking a swig of beer. “She says she’s learned her lesson now, but she always says that. The problem is, in her mind she’s a hard-nosed, take-no-prisoners businesswoman. She can’t stand the idea of having an empty room for even one night.”
Letty thought about the gun Ava had hidden in the front-office cash drawer and wondered if Joe was aware that he had a pistol-packing mama. And just how much did he know about her own complicated situation?
“But the reality is my mom is a pushover. Which is why all these sad-sack hard-luck losers are attracted to her like flies to honey.”
“You mean people like me?” she asked.
His face flushed. “That’s not what I meant. You didn’t show up here looking for a handout, or to rip her off. I was thinking about her shitbird ex-boyfriend.”
“The unhandy handyman,” Letty said.
“The one who set up a scam business out of one of the rooms right here at the Murmuring Surf, right under my nose.” He scowled. “Chuck and Rooney, the dynamic duo of rip-off artists.”
Letty almost choked on her hard cider. “Rooney? Did you say the other guy’s name was Rooney?”
Rooney. Tanya’s ex-boyfriend. That Rooney?
“Yeah. Chuck was just a boozer and a loser, up until he met up with Rooney, who, it turned out, was a hard-core criminal.”
“What kind of ‘business’ were they into?”
“Precious metals. It’s a classic Florida scam, because they preyed on retirees or people desperate to make a buck. They’d set up in motels around here, including the Murmuring Surf, and run ads about paying top dollar for estate jewelry and gold coins. Some old lady would bring in her mother’s wedding ring, or a bunch of old coins or the sterling silver tea set they never used. They’d make a big show of weighing it—of course the scales were rigged. And maybe they’d tell somebody her diamond was worthless—flawed, but they’d buy it for the weight of the gold in the ring. Pennies on the dollar.”
“How did Chuck hook up with this Rooney guy?”
“Where else? A bar. I only figured out what they were up to after one of our guests came to me and said she was afraid she’d been ripped off. She’d decided to sell a watch she’d inherited. Begged me not to tell her husband because she was embarrassed. After I looked into it, we set up a sting. We got a female undercover agent to sell them a ring we’d had a certified gemologist appraise at fourteen thousand dollars. They offered her two hundred and eighty dollars. We had the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, the sheriff’s office, St. Pete Police, several different agencies involved, because these other two had been working this scam all over the state.”
“There were three of them? I thought you said it was just Chuck and Rooney,” Letty said.
“They had a woman working with them. A redhead, and she was a knockout. They used her as window dressing, to gain the trust of these old ladies. Because how could a sweet-faced girl like her possibly rip them off?
“Rooney and the woman were staying right up there in unit six,” Joe went on. “Our undercover agent said she saw thousands and thousands of dollars in cash, boxes and boxes of gold and silver coins when she went to the room to sell the ring. But when the raid went down, the room had been cleaned out. Rooney and Chuck were long gone. Along with all the money and jewelry and coins. The only person arrested was their female accomplice.”
Letty felt sick. “The female accomplice was arrested? Do you remember her name?”
Joe screwed up his face as he thought about it. “Something with a T. Teresa? Or maybe Tammy?”
“What was she charged with?”
“Fraud. Her lawyer worked out some kind of deal with the district attorney’s office. I don’t even know if she did time.”
“What about the two men?”
He shrugged. “Gone. Mom had pretty much figured out that Chuck was a loser, although she didn’t know he was a criminal loser. She’d kicked him out of her apartment, but was letting him stay in that room where you’re living now, if you can believe it. I’ve got no idea what happened to Rooney.”
“Kind of a funny name, Rooney.”
“I think his first name was Declan, but everybody just called him Rooney. Even his wife.”
“Wife?” Letty said. “He was married to the female accomplice?”
“So she claimed,” Joe said.
Letty took another sip of the hard cider, but it had grown warm and now, she thought, had turned her stomach sour. She emptied the rest into the sand.
“How long ago did all this happen?” she asked.
“Let me think.” He opened the cooler and offered her another drink, but she shook her head. “No thanks.”
“Maybe five years ago?” he said finally. “None of the money or coins or jewelry was ever recovered.”
Maya rushed toward them, her face alight with joy. Her little pink sun hat was askew, her arms and legs and tummy were coated in the sugar-fine white sand, and she was toting the plastic bucket Ava had given her, water sloshing over the sides as she ran.
“Letty, Letty,” she said, when she reached the blanket. She held the bucket out triumphantly. “We catched a fishy!”
“That’s a beautiful minnow,” Joe said, admiring Maya’s catch. “It’s a greenback. See how its back is green, but when it swims, you catch a flash of the silver on its underbelly?”
Maya peered into the bucket and nodded. “Her name is Minnie. I’m gonna keep her. Okay, Letty?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Letty said. “I don’t think Miss Ava allows pets, does she, Joe?”
“Afraid not,” Joe said. “But even if she did, a minnow is a fish, and a fish can’t live in a little bucket like this. They have to be able to swim in the ocean with fresh water moving through their gills, because that’s where they get oxygen to breathe.”
“Really?” Letty glanced over at him. “I didn’t know that. Must be a Florida thing.”
Joe laughed. “Not a Florida thing. More like a high school biology thing.”
“Oh yeah. High school. Mine was in a hick town in West Virginia, and probably only five percent of my graduating class went on to college,” Letty said. “And our biology teacher really was a perv.” She scowled at the memory of Mr. Parker, trying to corner her after class, using the ruse of “helping” her pass her midterm exam.
“I think we need to put Minnie back in the water, Maya,” Joe said, his tone gentle.
“Noooo,” Maya wailed. “It’s mine minnow. I catched her.”
Letty reached out and touched her niece’s hand. “Joe’s right, sweetie. Let’s put her back in the water. It’ll be fun to see her swim away with all her friends!”
Maya’s lower lip began to quiver. “I don’t want to.” She pressed the bucket tightly to her chest.
Joe stood up. “Maya,” he said impatiently. “If we don’t put the minnow back in the water, it can’t breathe. It’ll die. You don’t want Minnie to die, do you?”
Letty winced at the harshness of his response. He couldn’t know about Tanya. Couldn’t know what Letty herself didn’t know—whether or not Maya had witnessed her mother’s murder.
The child’s reaction was instant. Her face crumpled as she dissolved into tears. “My mommy died,” she whispered. “She’s in heaven and she can’t come back anymore.”
“I’m so sorry,” Joe said, looking over at Letty. He knelt down beside the sobbing child. “Come on, Maya. I’ll help you put the minnow back in the water. And then we’ll build a fort. Okay? Like, a cowboys and Indians fort.”
“I’ll help too,” Letty said, scrambling to her feet. She used a towel to dab the snot and sand from the little girl’s face.
“Okay,” Maya said reluctantly. She put her face to the edge of the bucket. “Bye, Minnie.”
“You coming to the cookout tonight?” Joe asked hours later, as they walked up toward the motel from the beach. He had the cooler and beach blanket tucked under one arm, with Maya asleep on his shoulder.
“There’s a cookout?” Letty asked, struggling to keep up with his pace.
“Oh yeah. It’s a Murmuring Surf tradition. The Doughertys always did a Sunday-night cookout for their guests during the season, so Mom just kept it going. We provide the main course. Tonight we’re doing barbecued chicken. All the guests bring a side dish. And their own beverage. Afterward, everybody meets in the rec room for bingo. I’m telling you, it’s a big night.”
“Wish I could,” Letty said. “But I need to get Maya hosed off and into bed. You saw how she wore herself out this afternoon.”
“Pretty sure you could get Isabelle to stay with her. These days she thinks she’s too cool to hang out with all the oldsters for an entire night,” Joe said.
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so. I’m not really a guest, am I?”
“You’d be my guest,” Joe said. “But okay, I won’t press it.”
They’d reached a rusty iron gate that separated the public beach from the Murmuring Surf property. Joe turned on a spigot and they rinsed the sand from their feet; then he walked Letty to her unit.
“Here,” she said, reaching out her arms for the drowsy little girl. “I can take her now. Thanks for helping out today.”
“Not a problem,” he said, lowering his voice. “And I’m sorry again about the dead-minnow thing. I mean, I know you told me about her mom, but it didn’t occur to me…”
“It’s okay,” Letty reassured him, retrieving the room key from her beach bag. “She’s four. You saw how she was, five minutes later, splashing in the waves. She was completely over it.”
“And what about you? Her mother was your sister, right?”
“Half sister,” she said. “I mean, we called ourselves sisters, and we were. But no, I’m not over her.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I ever will be.”
She got Maya showered and into pajamas, and fixed her a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. By six o’clock, she willingly allowed herself to be tucked into bed with Ellie clutched in her arms.
Once the child was asleep, Letty poured herself a glass of wine and took a seat on the metal lawn chair in the breezeway outside her room, leaving the door open in case her niece awoke.
A soft breeze rustled a pale pink hibiscus in a nearby flower bed and carried the scent of burning charcoal and the sound of laughter, coming from the rec room beside the pool. Letty turned her chair sideways, so she could see the sky turning a vivid orange.
Sunsets had quickly become her favorite time of day here, a time to pause and be still, but tonight there would be no stillness. She looked down again at the torn magazine page, the one she’d found in Tanya’s go-bag the night her sister was murdered. She ran her fingers over the colorful photo of the Murmuring Surf, and pondered its significance.
Rooney. Tanya’s “boyfriend,” who she claimed had abandoned her, left her high and dry five years ago in Atlanta, with nothing but her car and the clothes on her back. Rooney was the name of the con man who’d bilked old ladies. Right here at the Murmuring Surf. And he’d had an accomplice, a charming redhead, whom he’d abandoned when the law closed in. Joe said he couldn’t remember her name, but it had been five years ago, and her name “might” have started with a T.
This could not be a coincidence. There were no coincidences where Tanya was concerned. Her beautiful, lovable, charming half sister lied with effortless ease. She was a chameleon who could go from redhead to blonde, victim to criminal, in the blink of an eye. And now those lies had drawn Letty right back here, to the scene of the crime.
The question was why.
“Hey.” His voice startled her. She turned around. Joe DeCurtis was holding an overflowing paper plate, covered with foil.
“Hey yourself,” she said. She quickly tucked the magazine page into the pocket of her shorts.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“No. Just enjoying what I can see of the sunset.”
He held out the paper plate. “Ava insisted. You gotta eat, right?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Letty said. “There’s a tantalizing bag of microwave popcorn inside with my name on it.”
“Popcorn for dinner?”
“And wine,” she said, holding up her glass.
“I’ve got a much better idea.”
He pulled up a nearby metal side table and placed the plate on top, removing the foil with a dramatic flourish.
“Chicken DeCurtis,” he said, pointing to a slightly charred chicken breast glistening under a coat of reddish-orange sauce. “Arlene’s baked beans. Alice Sheehan’s macaroni and cheese. Trudi Maples’s coleslaw. And the pièce de résistance, day-old store-bought rolls from Oscar Jensen.”
Her stomach growled, loudly and unmistakably.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”
“Hear what?” He cupped a hand to his ear. “I didn’t hear nothing.”
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. She sensed he was waiting for something. Like an invitation to join her. Part of her desperately wanted to let down her guard, invite him to stay and share a glass of wine. But to what end? Better not to encourage him.
“Thanks for this,” she said, gesturing at the plate. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m just going to put it inside for now, because it’s still a little early for dinner for me.”
The last thing she saw as she closed the door to her room was the baffled, hurt look on his face.