Free Murder Makes Waves by Anne George Page A

the middle of the damn night. What time is it? Two? Three?”
    “It’s late,” Mary Alice admitted, “but I can’t go to sleep. Come on, let’s go down to the beach.”
    “Absolutely not. I’m going back to sleep.” I pulled the sheet over my head.
    “What’s the matter?” Haley mumbled.
    “Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?” Sister asked her.
    “Now?” Haley’s voice sounded confused. “What time is it?”
    “God knows. “I said, uncovering my head. “Go back to sleep, honey.”
    “Y’all are missing the Perseid meteor shower,” Sister said.
    “That’s not until August. Go away.”
    She did. I heard the bedroom door close, heard Haley’s breathing resume the pattern of sleep, heard the elevator door open and close. Shit! Sister didn’t have a bit of business going to the beach by herself in the middle of the night. Iscrambled out of bed, fumbled around in the dark for some clothes, and tiptoed from the room. Sister was sitting on the living room sofa reading a magazine.
    “Oh, good,” she said. “You changed your mind.”
    Ten minutes later, we were walking barefooted along the great shallow sea that is the Gulf of Mexico. There were no waves tonight, simply a curling of warm water around our ankles as our feet sank into the sand. Haze haloed the lights over the stile behind us.
    “Everybody on the sixth floor is awake,” I said, looking back toward the building where the four apartments were a streak of light across an otherwise dark building.
    “A sad night,” Sister said. “The people in the end apartment, the one next to Eddie and Laura, may be getting ready to go to work, though. They both work for Delta Airlines. He’s a pilot and she’s a flight attendant. Maybe vice versa. Anyway, they’re real nice. Remember I told you about them, Mouse? When they moved in back in the spring?”
    “They’re the ones with the teenage daughter?”
    “Uh huh. Jack and Tammy Berliner. Their daughter’s name is Sophie.”
    “And they fly out of Atlanta? That’s not exactly commuting distance.”
    “They’ve got a Cessna, I understand. And they don’t work every day. They’ll make a flight and then be off for a couple of days. It seems to be working out okay. Millicent says the move was mainly for Sophie and she thinks it’s done her good. She’s not quite as weird.” Sister stopped walking. “Oh, my. Poor Millicent.”
    We stood at the edge of the water. Beyond us, some flounder fishermen were shining their lanterns into the water. Above us, the stars wheeled hazily.
    “I hope he was good,” Sister said.
    “Who?”
    “The man Millicent was with last night.”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Maybe she just went to sleep like she said she did.”
    “I hope not. I hope she was with some strong, virile man who made love to her all night.”
    I was getting caught up in this. “A sweet and gentle man.”
    “I got a big one!” one of the flounderers shouted.
    “To each his own,” Sister said.
     
    The next morning, it was about nine o’clock when I woke up. Haley’s bed was empty. I put on my robe and went to see what was going on. Haley and Frances were sitting on the balcony drinking coffee and passing a pair of binoculars back and forth.
    “Good morning,” I said. “What are y’all looking at?”
    “Porpoises,” Haley looked up. “There’s a whole bunch of them out there. How’s your tailbone?”
    “Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Did your Aunt Sister get off to her writers’ conference?”
    “Bright eyed and bushy tailed. She’s been gone a long time,” Frances said. “She left you a Post-it on the refrigerator.”
    I headed into the kitchen, bleary eyed, amazed as always at my sister’s energy. She couldn’t have had more than three or four hours’ sleep and she was bright eyed and bushy tailed? I took the Post-it from the refrigerator. It said, “Patricia Anne, please take care of Fairchild.”
    Take care of Fairchild? What was I supposed