Murder at High Tide

one of her companions, Louisa gracefully stepped toward them, the hem of her stunning black evening dress flirting with the sand.
“Girls! There you are!” Aunt Louisa spread her arms wide apart.
Rosa hesitated, then briefly succumbed to the squeezing, despite the public setting.
With one hand still on Rosa’s shoulder, her aunt stepped back and appraised her with a long glance. “You do look pale, though, Rosa. We need to get you in the sun.”
Rosa grimaced inwardly. Affection mixed with criticism was Aunt Louisa’s way. Besides, she’d spent plenty of time in the sun, though she did concede to being a shade dweller. Her fair skin burned easily.
At least Aunt Louisa had stopped commenting on her accent. She was determined to, in her words, “make an American out of you again”.
“Gloria probably didn’t fill you in on the purpose of this event,” Aunt Louisa started. “It’s a fundraiser for one of my charities. I serve on several boards. This one is for the California Polio Research Foundation. You’ve heard of the March of Dimes that President Roosevelt instituted in the thirties? There’s a loose association with that.”
Aunt Louisa pointed to a large banner that hung over the buffet tables with the CPRF—California Polio Research Foundation—logo emblazoned on it. “I want you to meet some people who help with the charity.” She turned back to the lady still holding her martini. “This is Florence Adams, or ‘Flo’ as we like to call her. She was invaluable to me in planning this whole evening.”
Florence Adams, in a red crushed-satin party dress, handed the martini back to Aunt Louisa. Flicking her blonde ponytail over her shoulder, Flo smiled to reveal straight white teeth and a wide, expressive mouth. An attractive woman with tanned skin that crinkled slightly around the corners of her blue eyes, regarded Rosa.
“Hello, hello,” she said rather loudly. Her arms opened wide, and Rosa accepted the unsolicited hug. Miss Adams’ speech had a slight slur, and the smell of brandy on her breath was strong. “Your aunt has told me all about you. I hope—I hope your stay in Santa Bonita goes well. Are you here for very long?”
That was a question Rosa didn’t know how to answer. Her nuptials disaster had made Rosa desperate to escape London. She’d taken a leave of absence of an undetermined length from her job with the Metropolitan Police and booked a one-way flight.
Lifting a drink from a passing cocktail tray, Gloria handed Rosa the delicate crystal glass and answered for her. “She is going to stay for as long as she likes.” She launched into a faux London accent. “This poor copper needs a break, and I intend to make her enjoy every minute of it.”
Aunt Louisa interrupted two people seated at a nearby table who seemed deep in conversation. She put her hand on one of the young men, his khaki shorts exposing steel and leather leg braces.
“Please excuse me,” she said. “I’d like you to meet my niece. Rosa, this is Rod Jeffers. Rosa just arrived from London.”
“Great to meet you,” the young man said, nodding his head.
Aunt Louisa went on. “Rod works with us in public relations and is excellent with the press and any aspects of promoting our charity.”
Continuing her introductions, Rosa’s aunt motioned to the man Mr. Jeffers had been engaging with. “This is Raul Mendez, the treasurer of our little organization. But don’t think him a bore. He’s also a great bassist and is playing in the band we have here tonight.”
The young man smiled thinly as he stood and briefly took Rosa’s hand. “Welcome to Santa Bonita. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some food, ya know, before the band’s finished its break.” Mr. Mendez shuffled through the sand toward the makeshift stage in the distance.
Rosa continued to smile as she was put on display and introduced to her aunt’s many friends and acquaintances. She just hoped she could keep all the names straight, should she meet these people again after tonight.
Aunt Louisa waved an arm and shouted, “Shirley! Shirley!” She was loud enough that Rosa thought, perhaps, Florence Adams wasn’t the only one to have had a bit too much to drink. However, Rosa knew her aunt well enough to know that she would never get to a point where she was out of control. Control was far too important to her.
Shirley, a middle-aged woman with a thick waistline and round cheeks, turned at the sound of her name, and if Rosa’s instincts were right, forced a smile she didn’t feel.
“Rosa, this is Mrs. Shirley Philpott, Flo’s cousin and the wife of our chief medical examiner, Dr. Melvin Philpott.” Shirley nodded at Rosa. “Shirley, this is my niece, Rosa Reed, from England. You’ll get a kick out of her accent.”
Mrs. Philpott laughed at that. “Now, you must say something!”
“How do you do?” Rosa said politely.
“Oh, you’re right, Mrs. Forrester. She’s adorable. Come now, give me a hug!”
“Oh,” Rosa muttered as Mrs. Philpott, soft and doughy, almost squeezed the wind out of her.
Mrs. Philpott released her but held her shoulders with two strong hands. “Say something else.”
“I find your accent charming as well.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Philpott laughed. “Just like the Queen.”
Being a novelty conversation starter for her American family was becoming the norm for Rosa. If she wanted, she could revert to the American accent she’d picked up during her stay at the Forrester mansion during the war years. Having spent her impressionable teens under Aunt Louisa’s tutelage had left a deep and lasting mark. She just didn’t know if she wanted to. Her London heritage had a deep meaning for her.
An older, jovial man wearing dark-rimmed spectacles and a cream-colored three-piece suit joined them, and it was Mrs. Philpott’s turn to make introductions. “Honey, this is Louisa’s niece, Rosa. She has the most adorable accent. This is my husband, Dr. Philpott.”
Only in California could one get away with wearing a formal suit while barefooted, Rosa mused.
He extended his hand. “Your aunt tells me you