Murder on the Boardwalk (A Rosa Reed Mystery #2) - Lee Strauss Page 0,1
to it to her.
The highway wound along the coast. As Gloria chattered on about the funfair at the boardwalk, Rosa gazed at the gleaming sun. The ball of fire hung over the beach, and blue water rushed to the shore. The scene looked like a postcard picture. In the distance, she saw the Santa Bonita Pier. Bright red bars lined a giant Ferris wheel at the edge of the water.
Almost missing the exit, Gloria stomped on the brake and spun onto the ramp to guide them off the highway just in time.
“Gloria!” Rosa pressed a hand on the Bel Air’s sleek crocus-yellow dashboard. “For crying out loud!”
“Oh, chili-pop, honey.” Gloria glided around a bend that momentarily hid the ocean, then continued along a curvy road that led them down a steep decline. Rosa didn’t relax until they were level with the water.
Gloria managed to squeeze into a parking spot without scratching the paint. Rosa could only imagine how Clarence, Gloria’s older brother, took to the odd scuffs sure to appear on the Forrester vehicles.
Rosa reached for her satchel. Diego was awake and no worse for wear.
“Hi, sweetie,” Rosa cooed and reached in to pat him. “You’ve already had your first fair ride, poor thing.”
Gloria pretended offense, blowing loudly through lips thick with tangerine-colored lipstick. She led the way to the back of the gravel parking lot and down a short dirt path. Then, quite suddenly, the trail opened to more bright colors and tiny lights than Rosa had ever seen in one place. It was as though Christmas had come early and had exploded across the pier.
“It’s stunning!” Rosa said, stopping. Now that they were closer, she could see not only the brightly lit Ferris wheel set against the brilliant blue sky, but also several carnival game tents, a ride with spinning cars, and even a roller coaster! The salty air she’d become accustomed to in the last two weeks took on a new aroma with smells of buttered popcorn and warm sugar.
“It is, isn’t it?” Gloria grasped Rosa’s hand and pulled her toward the lights and the action.
“You’ll have to show me how it’s all done,” Rosa said while gazing around in awe. She slid her new Riviera sunglasses up onto her forehead to get a clearer view.
They walked onto the base of the pier, and only then could Rosa see most of the exciting ocean-side fair. A large platform sat inland and seemed to hold most of the amusement rides, including the giant roller coaster that made Rosa’s stomach turn upside down just watching it. The Ferris wheel turned its slow and steady circles at the farthest end of the pier. Along the boardwalk and pier, numerous game tents were busy with customers and “carnies” yelling, “Step right up! Be our next winner!”
As Rosa and Gloria meandered down the pier, the dings and clanks and shouts from the carnival games were soon drowned out by lively upbeat swing music.
“Is there a band here?” Rosa asked.
Gloria answered glibly, “Mick and the Beat Boys are playing tonight. They’re often here on weekends. Isn’t that neat?”
Rosa’s pulse jumped at the mention of the band’s name. The “Mick” in question was the nickname of Detective Miguel Belmonte. She groaned inwardly. So much for keeping her distance from the man.
Very few people knew of the short but intense romance she and Miguel Belmonte had shared eleven years ago. Eleven years. The four months they’d spent falling in love was just a blip now on Rosa’s timeline. Ancient history. But despite her best efforts, her body still reacted to the mention of his name.
“There’s an amphitheater just ahead, with a dance floor.” As Gloria led the way, a gaggle of ladies that Gloria recognized joined them. She called out hello and waved, and the gaggle moved toward them. Turning to Rosa, she added, “See, I told you we’d know people here.”
We seemed like the wrong pronoun, but as Gloria leaned for quick hugs, recognition dawned. A few were familiar to Rosa, and one was particularly familiar.
A lack of teachers during Rosa’s high school years in Santa Bonita had combined students of all ages in large classrooms. More times than Rosa could count, they had turned out the school lights and blacked out windows when an oil field was bombed, or a firebomb was discovered somewhere within California.
“You remember Marjorie, right?” Gloria said, motioning to a pretty girl in a green A-line dress with a black-and-white polka-dotted under layer. She wore her bright-red hair in