Sunshine Beach (5 page)

“No, of course not,” Avery said. “I've asked Chase and Jeff to keep an eye open for potential projects, and I'm planning to check out the beach communities within driving distance of Bella Flora, but I don't know that we're going to have much of a choice,” Avery said. “And who knows, maybe if we renovated the hotel, Renée and her sister could reach some sort of agreement. Maybe then they could sell it and be done with it.”

“God, I just keep thinking what it must have felt like living so close to the place where such a horrible thing happened,” Nikki said. “Renée's always seemed so upbeat and positive. I would have never guessed she had such a tragedy in her past.”

“No,” Maddie said. “A lot of wounds aren't at all visible.” Weren't they all a walking testimonial to that?

“Well, all we're going to do today is take a look,” Avery said. “There's no harm in that.”

They were within hailing distance of the Don CeSar when Kyra angled the stroller toward the dunes she'd pointed out earlier. The catamaran's hardware clanged against the metal mast with a hollow ring, and the sea oats that surrounded the dunes swayed gently as they made their way through the softer sand.

Kyra extracted Dustin from the stroller, handed him into Maddie's arms, then retrieved her video camera from her backpack. Hefting it onto her shoulder, she led Maddie, Avery, and Nikki between the dunes. They stopped in front of the low concrete wall for several long moments trying to absorb what lay before them.

Maddie shivered slightly. Instinctively they moved closer together as they followed Kyra through the opening in the low concrete wall.

Maddie took in the drifts of sand and refuse that covered the gouged concrete pool deck and piled high against the corners of the L-shaped building. The scarred trash-filled pool gaped at them openmouthed. Brown-skirted palm trees, bulging bushes, and flowering vines had woven themselves into a thick green wall that blotted out the neighboring properties. The encroaching vegetation clung to the building and had taken root in the cracked concrete. The ends of a tarp that covered most of the building's flat roof snapped against its restraints like a sail against the wind. The sky was still blue and the sun still shone, but its angle cast long shadows across the abandoned property. It felt as if they'd stepped from one world into another.

“I can't decide if this is just sad or creepy,” Avery said, though Maddie could see her eyeing the low-slung building, as if applying a mental tape measure.

“I don't think you have to choose,” Nikki said. “It's both.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “I thought Bella Flora looked bad when we first saw her, but she had great bones. Renée was right. This looks like a teardown to me.”

There was the crunch of feet on gritty concrete and they looked up to see John Franklin approaching from the rear of the property. The Realtor leaned heavily on his cane, placing it carefully before each step.

“I wish you all could have seen the property in its heyday,” he said when he'd reached them. “I lifeguarded here on weekends in the winter when it was filled with snowbirds and over the summer break for the local beach club members. My platform was right there.” He pointed to a spot midway between the deep and shallow ends. “I used to give water skiing lessons out in the Gulf on weekends.”

Maddie followed his gaze out over the low wall to the beach and the body of water beyond.

“The kids would run on and off the beach all day.” An almost shy smile twisted Franklin's lips. “The teenagers used to hang out over there under that stand of palms.” He nodded toward the clump of cabbage palms on the edge of the low wall, but his eyes were far away. “I kissed Renée there for the very first time.”

Maddie's heart twisted at the affection in his voice. Once she'd believed she and Steve were in it for the long haul.

He led them past the listing covered patio that ran the length of the building to the double glass entrance doors. There he pulled a large ring of keys from his pocket and fit one into the lock. After a bit of jiggling he managed to push open the door.

What once must have been a bright sunlit space was dark and dank, smelling of ancient wet towels and bathing suits trapped in an airless space for far too long. Nikki gagged. A hand flew to her throat. She wasn't the only one swallowing hard in an effort to hold on to breakfast. Trying to breathe through her mouth, Maddie took in the long rectangular space. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and clung to pretty much every available surface and fixture while dust bunnies (a far-too-delicate term given their size) covered the baseboards and climbed the corners.

“The terrazzo's not too bad,” Avery said eyeing the gouged and filthy mottled floor.

“I'm assuming from your tone that's a good thing?” Nikki said.

“Well, it can be repaired and refinished. And it is original.” Avery did a 360 taking in the decor.

Ancient rattan sofas and chairs with shredded vinyl cushions were arranged around brightly colored coffee tables. Mushroom-shaped table lamps and multiarmed floor lamps wore coats of dust. A Ping-Pong table sagged in front of the beachside plate glass. Old wooden card tables and chairs overlooked the covered porch and pool.

“It's like a midcentury time capsule,” Avery said. “Deirdre would have a field day with this place.” She swallowed and turned away.

“Those doors lead back to the locker rooms and sauna and massage rooms,” John said pointing to the two openings in the back wall. “You can access them from outside, too, so you didn't have to go through the lobby.”

A front desk took up the L near the entrance. Behind it a built-in wooden cubby still held keys on dangling plastic holders. A large sun-shaped clock with faded multicolored rays hung on the equally faded turquoise wall, its large black hands stuck at 12:05. A soda fountain straight out of
Happy Days
occupied the opposite corner complete with chrome stools with ripped vinyl seats, a mirrored back wall, and a vintage Coca-Cola sign. The Realtor ran a hand over the gold-flecked Formica countertop, then slid open the round-edged commercial cooler behind the fountain. “This was always stocked with ice cream sandwiches. It was kind of a help yourself on the honor system.

“The kitchen's through there.” He opened the door to a small but utilitarian kitchen. “The dining room is this way.”

A space too short to be called a hallway opened to the glass-walled dining room, which sat maybe sixty. Here the
tables were white Formica and the low-backed chairs were wicker with vinyl cushions that had once been bright lime and yellow. The lone interior wall and the corners between the sections of glass were papered in what looked like a lattice pattern, no doubt intended to give the room a gazebo-like feel. That paper now hung in strips; the plasterboard behind it was blotched with almost as many water stains as the sagging roof.

John inhaled slowly, and from the beatific smile on his long face it was clear the scent in his nostrils was pure nostalgia and not present-day reality. His eyes were clouded with memory.

Doubling back, he led them through the changing rooms, which were lined with wooden lockers and cubbies as well as the saunas and massage room. Dustin climbed up on an antique scale, his weight barely tilting the bar that held the weights. Maddie, Avery, and Nikki abandoned subtlety to pinch their noses shut. Kyra, who couldn't spare the free hand from her zoom lens, appeared to be holding her breath.

They left the building more quickly than they'd entered, dragging in lungfuls of fresh salt air as the Realtor locked the doors behind them. Without fanfare he led them back along the concrete walkway. Maddie held tight to Dustin's hand, careful not to let him get too close to the jungle-height grasses and bushes, afraid of what might be living in or slithering through them.

The cottages were built of cinder block and looked far more utilitarian than whimsical despite the once-bright colors they'd been painted and the signs carved with beachy monikers. The units were locked, the windows boarded up. Roofs were swathed in a patchwork of tarps. Tropical vegetation had grown around, between, and up cottage walls.

Maddie turned, trying to get her bearings. “Is that Pass-a-Grille Way behind that wall of trees?”

“Yes,” John said. “And that's Thirty-first Avenue beyond
all that overgrowth.” He pointed to their right. “That's where guests parked their cars. There's a public beach access at the end of it.”

He turned, taking the pathway that bisected the cottages and explaining the mix of one- and two-bedroom units, how they'd been situated and landscaped to provide maximum privacy in a space that was decidedly minimal. At the Happy Crab, which didn't look at all happy, he inserted a key into the lock and jiggled it. As he put his shoulder to the door, they heard the sound of small things scurrying inside.

“I hope to hell they're running and hiding and not getting ready to jump us,” Nikki muttered. “I don't do rodents.”

“I'm with you on that one,” Maddie said as the Realtor finally managed to unstick the swollen wood door. Settling Dustin on her hip, she squinched her eyes partly shut so as not to see any small rodent bodies or scurrying cockroaches and followed Nikki and Avery inside.

The cottage smelled as bad, or possibly worse, than the main building, having less room for the smells to dissipate. It had its own small living room with one large window, a small eat-in kitchenette, and a profusely tiled bathroom. The front door had a jalousie window inset. Living room and bedroom windows were fitted with air conditioners and short blackout curtains. The floors appeared to be the same sand-colored terrazzo as the main building; it was hard to be sure given the layers of sand and grit that covered them. The furnishings hadn't fared any better and were coated in layers of dirt, dust, and grime. Signs of water damage were everywhere.

Kyra shot video of all of it and them. Dustin sneezed and clung to her neck. For the first time Maddie could remember, he did not ask to be put down.

Outside, Franklin locked the door behind them. “Excuse me for just a moment,” he said moving toward the northern end of the walkway, which appeared to end at a huge hibiscus bush.

“What do you think?” Maddie asked as they huddled outside the Not-So-Happy Crab.

“It's interesting,” Avery said. “I mean, all the buildings were pretty utilitarian in the first place and they're in horrible shape, but it's a prime example of mid-twentieth-century architecture. And anything midcentury modern is really hot right now.”

“You're kidding, right?” Nikki whispered even though the Realtor couldn't possibly overhear them. “This place would be perfect for a remake of
Psycho
. But only
after
they fumigated.”

“The fact that it's seriously in need of attention could work in our favor,” Avery said. “They've only just managed to keep it from falling down.”

“Renée wants it to fall down,” Kyra pointed out.

“But she might change her mind if it were renovated and made attractive to a buyer,” Avery said, her enthusiasm apparent. “This is an incredibly valuable piece of property that no one is making a penny from.” She shot a glance at John, who'd come to a stop at the end of the walkway. “Plus it's barely a mile from Bella Flora.”

“I don't know,” Nikki said. “We'd need to put together a renovation and production budget before we could even consider soliciting sponsorships or funding of any kind. And I don't have any confidence that Renée would give her permission even if we could find the money. Or be able to talk her sister into it.”

“And I'm not sure she should,” Maddie said, setting Dustin on his feet. “She can't even bring herself to set foot on the property. I doubt she'll open herself up to the kind of attention that could surround a renovation here.”

“Dawn!” Dustin pointed toward the Realtor and began to toddle toward him. They followed him to where John stood staring at a two-bedroom unit set apart from the others. Largely obscured by the overgrown hibiscus, its faded
blue paint was chipped and peeling. Unlike the other units, it had no sign. Its door was padlocked and hurricane shutters had been pulled down over its windows. The other units had looked deserted; Maddie thought this one looked downright desolate.

“This is where Renée and her family lived after the war while her father was helping to run the hotel.” John's voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the rustle of nearby palms. “She was the one who found him.” They stood in silence for a time before John seemed to rouse himself.

“Would you like to see the hotel brought back, John?” Avery asked.

His shrug was anything but casual. “I don't know,” he said finally. “In almost any other case I'd rather see something restored and enjoyed than torn down. But this isn't your usual situation. Renée has always wanted to make it disappear, though I doubt even that would ease the hurt and loss. Annelise was only five when it happened and she's never gotten over it.” He lowered his voice so that Dustin wouldn't overhear him “Annelise is convinced that her mother didn't do it, that an intruder killed their father and abducted her mother, even though there's never been any evidence to support that.”

He sighed and turned his back on the cottage. “But then what child wants to believe their mother could kill their father and then run away and leave them behind?” He ran a hand over his face. “We've had offers to sell the property ‘as is,' but Annelise has refused them all. Their grandparents' will left the property to them equally and stipulates that they have to agree.”

“But why leave it to rot?” Maddie wondered aloud. “What does that accomplish?”

“At first I think Annelise just wanted to preserve the time before her life fell apart,” John said. “Then I think she convinced herself that there might be clues to what happened that night that would clear her mother's name and explain
what really happened.” He shook his head sadly. “She's become quite addicted to
Forensic Files
and
Cold Case
and the like and has been trying to get the case reopened for a decade. But then, she's never been a big fan of reality. She's always been somewhat . . . fragile.”

Kyra stopped shooting. Slinging the video camera over one shoulder, she bent to pick up Dustin, who'd been eyeing a brightly colored butterfly.

“I think the Sunshine Hotel could be a great project for the new
Do Over
,” Avery said. “Would you ask Renée and her sister to at least let us present a plan and a budget for their consideration?”