People have long believed that the full moon brings out the crazies. Hospital waiting rooms are crowded. Emergency workers are busier. Crazy people emerge from padded rooms, intermixing with vampires, werewolves, and whatever else the moon conjures. At least, that’s what people think. Truth is, studies and even studies of studies don’t support these lunar perceptions. The moon doesn’t bring out the worst in people. Maybe, like the peacock’s hundred eyes, the full moon just gives us more light to see what has been there all along.
Though Rachel’s company made the party more enjoyable, my only agenda was to leave it. The warm effects of the alcohol and Rachel’s humor melted my tensions, but that wouldn’t last. I could never be relaxed in a room like this, filled with people, most of them strangers, some of them enemies, and all of them with ulterior motives. I was about to pull Rachel along toward the front door, her goal accomplished or not, but as soon as there was a lapse in conversation, she filled it.
“Holy juvenile delinquent,” Rachel sputtered out, staring at the entrance to the lobby. A scruffy-haired young man, who reminded me strangely of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, stood looking awkward and irritated. He wore a black jacket (clearly borrowed based on the dangling sleeves) over his black t-shirt, jeans, and dirty boots. “Thought he was in jail.”
“Friend of yours?” I prodded, taking another long sip of my drink.
Rachel shrugged. “That slimy bastard played a mean trick on me in school. Held my skirt up with a pencil as I walked clear down the hallway. Whole school saw my derrière and that jerk started callin’ me sweet cheeks.”
I chuckled a little, only because Rachel did, too, though I’m sure it wasn’t funny when it happened. “How embarrassing!”
“He got kicked out anyway,” she went on, “so I didn’t have to suffer him for long. Stupid boy nearly burned down the whole school.”
“How’d he do that?”
“Not sure,” she replied. “Started a fire in the chemistry lab, mixin’ the wrong chemicals together. I thought that was kinda funny, too. What would Ricky Wakefield be doin’ in the science lab after school? He barely made it to regular class. Wonder how he got invited.”
“He and Chris Kayne must be around the same age,” I reasoned.
Rachel grimaced. “Chris Kayne would never be friends with Ricky Wakefield.” Ricky Wakefield circled the room, without a word to anyone, and then left through the lobby.
Rachel continued, “Shame about Mrs. Love, the lady whose classroom he destroyed in the fire.” She pointed to a middle-aged man in the corner of the room, near the front windows. “That’s her husband over there stewin’ in the corner. She went in to Shawsburg Memorial Hospital for back surgery ‘bout two years ago. Never came out. Lost one of the few teachers at that danged school who actually taught anything.”
I shook my head, recalling my own teaching days, and how much I missed it. Coming to Tipee and starting a new life I thought would help me forget my old one. Truth was that it only made me miss it more.
“I don’t wanna talk about those scrubs anymore,” Rachel decided, taking a very liberal sip of my drink before I snatched it away from her. “Better get my girls in order.” She shoved her average breasts up – doing no good other than to make me laugh like crazy. She stood from her barstool and flicked her hips, bumping my leg. My dangling shoe dropped. Before I could reach it, someone kicked it like a hockey puck and sent it sliding into the crowd. My black high heel shoe disappeared into a sea of legs.
“Oh, Delilah, honey,” Rachel said, “please don’t embarrass me. Get it ‘fore anyone sees.” She shoved me off the barstool.
I edged though the crowd, belting out “excuse me’s” that mostly went unnoticed, until I hit a brick wall of suited shoulders. On the other side of the barricade, I spied my shoe, coming to a full stop at a set of blue Converses. If I could just reach in and grab it, I’d be set. No such luck. Mr. Converses got to it first.
I followed the legs upward. Chris Kayne held my shoe in his hand curiously. The crowd, which so easily ignored my whimpering “excuse me’s” now parted like the Red Sea. I reached for my shoe, but he pulled it back.
My desperation turned to irritation, particularly when he said, “How very Cinderella of you. Miss?” The suits and Lena Britt laughed, as if they suspected I sent my shoe careening over here on purpose (since I didn’t have big boobs to present, I suppose). I winced.
“Miss Not Interested.” The critical onlookers raised crooked eyebrows at me, now that I had unwittingly stolen Chris Kayne’s attention, and if looks could kill, I would have been dead about a dozen times over. I forced a nervous grin. “Well, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop this whole party, but I didn’t expect that when it happened, I’d have to go chasing after it. May I have my shoe, please?”
Chris Kayne handed me the shoe slowly, amused, and let me brace myself with his outstretched arm, as I hurriedly slipped it back on. His stare made me nervous, and when I get nervous, my mouth becomes like the Energizer Bunny.
“Did you know that that expression – waiting for the other shoe to drop – comes from the late 1800s, early 1900s and became common in large cities where people were crammed into cheap apartments? Noises carried from floor to floor, so when one shoe fell, everyone below heard it and waited for the other shoe to drop. Figuratively, it’s supposed to indicate that something undesirable is about to happen. I meant it strictly in the literal sense, as I’m sure nothing bad could ever happen at such a lovely party.”
Chris Kayne laughed. “Your renegade shoe reminds me of the saying, ‘If a woman rebels against high-heeled shoes, she should take care to do it in a very smart hat’.”
A grin stretched across my face. “Hate to disappoint you or George Bernard Shaw, but hats and shoes are really my aunts’ department.” I nodded over to my aunts and their flashy pinned hats as they cornered Lucius Kayne.
“You’re a Duffy?” he asked.
“Guilty.”
“Chris Kayne.” He poked his hand out, and I shook it.
“I know. I’ve been told you are to Tipee what the meow is to the cat.”
Chris chuckled. “Surely, it’s the Duffys who hold that distinction, but I’m rather embarrassed to say that I don’t remember you-”
“Delilah Duffy. I’m new to the island, technically,” I explained, as he followed me back to the bar, much to the dismay of his circle, who disbanded like disappointed playmates. “My father is Chuck Duffy, Charlie’s eldest son. I grew up in Wilmington, moved back here a few months ago to reopen my Great Aunt’s bookstore.”
Chris’ eyes lit up. “Beach Read? You reopened Beach Read?”
I nodded, a little taken back by his excitement. He put his hand on my shoulder to hold me still, and smiled.
“I have two favorite places on this island, Miss Duffy,” he said, “Beach Read is one of them. Laura Duffy single-handedly saved me from many a boring summer. If I wasn’t in my lab or out collecting samples, I was at Beach Read.”
I gave him a curious look. “Lab? Samples?”
He shrugged. “Yes, my nerdy reputation has been solidified in Tipee for a long time.”
I chuckled. He dropped his hand, and stuck them both in his pockets. I moved closer toward the bar.
Chris went on, “Laura Duffy introduced me to my two favorite books.”
We neared Rachel’s perch, where she straightened her back and widened her smile like a kid on Christmas morning when she eyed what I’d brought for her. I felt a bit like Santa Claus, especially considering the overfull pressure in my stomach from eating too many shrimp.
“Frankenstein,” Chris continued, “and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
“Both dark experiments gone wrong.” I grinned.
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for science, both the real and fictional kinds.”
I smiled, and then remembered the mermaid fountain outside. “What dark arts ruined your gorgeous fountain?”
Chris sighed. “I’m surprised you noticed. We’ve had people cleaning that up for a couple days now.”
“Do the police have any leads?”
“Didn’t alert them,” Chris returned. “The police have more important matters to attend to.”
I frowned. “Hard to imagine anyone wanting to destroy such a gorgeous sculpture.”
“With a little sand blasting, I’m sure she will recover.”
“Chris Kayne, this is my cousin, Rachel Duffy-Saintly.”
“You might remember me from school,” Rachel pointed out, her voice two octaves higher than normal.
“Of course, I remember you, Rachel,” Chris returned. Rachel’s cheeks reddened.
“This is my cousin, Delilah,” Rachel noted oddly, “she’s kinda a celebrity ‘round here, too, you know. Almost got herself murdered, twice. But, she did solve a murder and a crime spree. Got herself whacked on the head pretty good and proper, though. We ain’t entirely convinced that she’s recovered from that, but I say she’s always been a tad bit crazy anyway.” Rachel laughed.
“Speaking of crazy, nervous talking is a family trait,” I cut in.
“Well, it ain’t like there’s much else that’s happened ‘round here,” Rachel defended, “until now.” Her cherry red smile eased up on her cheeks. “This town’s certainly more excitin’ with you here.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Chris countered gently. “Tipee may seem small and boring, but it’s a lot like the ocean. On the surface, everything’s moving along like normal, but underneath, there’s a whole world we don’t see.”
“That so?” Rachel urged, picking up my drink and sipping it seductively through the red straw. “As Grandma likes to say, you got dirt, then spill it.”
“Most of these people are my father’s clients, and if you need my father, then chances are you’re guilty of something. Let’s just say that there’s enough drama in this room for any soap opera,” he finished, turning around to the bar, “but that doesn’t interest me.”
“Why don’t you tell us more about what you do, Chris?” I urged. Rachel cast me a disapproving glance, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear about Tipee Island’s legal or illegal practices. I’d had enough of that.
“I wouldn’t want to bore you,” he said.
“Oh, please,” Rachel cooed.
“Well, most recently, I interned at Pfizer in New York,” he explained. “We were experimenting with ways to trick the human body at a cellular level.”
“For what purpose?” I asked.
“Cancer treatments. You see, normally when a person contracts an illness, the body detects the abnormal cells by their foreign markers. This is how the body fights disease. Cancer cells aren’t marked. Therefore the body doesn’t know how to identify the cells in order to fight them. Our team was researching ways to mark the cells to trick the body into annihilating the cancer. You wouldn’t believe the amazing advancements being done. In our lifetime, we will see the cure for cancer, and a plethora of other so-called terminal illnesses.”
Rachel breathed out heavily. “I think I just had a mental orgasm.”
“Um, that’s incredible,” I cut in quickly. “I hope you’re right.”
“If anyone would know, it’d be you,” Rachel flattered. “You’re so gifted when it comes to the human body.” Rachel reached up and tugged slightly at Chris Kayne’s tie. She giggled and slid her tongue over her lips. Chris liked the attention. The generational gap between them and me suddenly felt like the Grand Canyon, and though I appreciate shameless flirting as much as the next girl, I was torn between trying to maintain appropriateness and bailing on them altogether.
“So, what are your plans?” I asked.
“Oxford in a few weeks,” he answered. “I’ve been offered a fellowship to study there. I’ll complete another doctorate-”
“You collect degrees like normal people get new shoes. What’s Oxford got that you can’t get here in America?” Rachel cooed, waving me away behind Chris’ back. “Ya know, I hear European girls don’t believe in shavin’. They’re probably like a bunch of sasquatches over there.”
I gulped down the rest of my drink. The other shoe had fallen, after all. I melded into the crowd, ready to hide out in the bathroom.