12. Hattie

"Welcome to the Seaside Smoothies and Crabwalk Whispering Waves Workshop," Missy Livingston shouts out to the gathering of about thirty or so women sprawled out here on the sand beneath the Cottage House.

The sun blazes overhead, turning this June afternoon into a scorcher as we watch our fearless leader, with her caramel-colored hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her pink yoga attire shows off her skin that glows like a perfect café latte, and her lips are frosted as pink as a sugar cookie.

"Head to the tables in the back," Missy instructs as she points the way to a tent set up nearby with a table full of tall glasses of what looks like ground-up grass clippings.

"These aren't your average smoothies, ladies," she exclaims with far too much excitement over the grassy-looking concoctions. "They're a blend of locally sourced seaweed, a dash of organic spirulina, a sprinkle of kelp powder, and for that extra kick—a hint of fish oil. It's the taste of the ocean in a cup!"

Peggy grunts, "I'm not so sure that's a selling point, hon."

Clarabelle nods. "But if it makes us look like that, I'll drink a gallon."

"Who am I kidding?" Peggy snorts. "I'll drink two gallons a day if I can look half that good."

It's true. Missy is a stunner.

A few of the women grimace slightly at the mention of fish oil, but most nod along, and soon enough every last one of them is sipping cautiously at their green concoctions.

I myself have chosen to abstain until after I question my suspect. Who knows what effect locally sourced seaweed might have on my ability to pry into people's gray matter? If it's anything like liquor, it won't be pretty.

"Bottoms up, ladies!" Missy calls out with all the fervor of a drill sergeant. "It's time to get back on the sand. And it's time to get our bodies moving and our souls grooving!" Missy continues, seamlessly transitioning to the next part of her workshop. "It's time to do the crabwalk! This isn't just a physical exercise, it's a spiritual journey. As we move like the crabs, grounding ourselves to the earth and the water, we'll be connecting deeply with the healing energies of the ocean."

Missy waves her arms our way in an effort to garner our attention before leading the charge and demonstrating how to whisper positive affirmations to the waves while walking sideways like a crustacean on the run.

I'll admit, it's a bit mesmerizing just watching.

She demonstrates the crabwalk in slow motion, moving sideways with a grace that seems—well, natural if you had pinchers for fingers. "And as we move, let's whisper our affirmations to the waves, sending our deepest desires and fears into the vast expanse of the ocean blue, allowing the water to cleanse and rejuvenate our souls. It's a full body and spiritual detox! A priceless endeavor if ever there was one." And hopefully one they'll be shelling out the big bucks for a repeat soon enough.

Thought so.

Cricket and Rookie bound this way with two other four-footed cuties in tow, and, of course, Jolly Beary strapped to Rookie's back.

Hey, if it works, it works.

At least we won't have to spend an hour looking for the tiny teddy like we've done a time or twelve in the past.

Rookie and Cricket's two new acquaintances bark with glee as they play follow the leader. One is a majestic husky and the other is a playful chocolate lab that happens to be hot on their tails, and each one of them looks as if they're having a better body and spiritual detox than any hooman on the beach could ever hope for.

Cricket trots by and pauses to gawk at the sideways commotion. Would you look at this spectacle?

The shaggy husky stops cold long enough to wag her tongue at the melee. Hoomans can be so strange.

Rookie backtracks and barks. But they look so happy!

The chocolate lab gives a few quick sniffs toward the tent in the background. And those smoothies smell like fish guts. Yum!

The husky barks at the crab-walking crowd. I've seen many things, but this takes the biscuit. They can't walk straight and they're talking to the ocean. Why don't they just play fetch?

Believe me, I'd rather play fetch—or dig a hole to China, or fight over a bone—anything but walk sideways while slinging wishes into the sea or questioning a potential killer.

Oh, who are we kidding? I was born to track down killers—no matter how pretty or perky they might be.

Rookie hops toward the waves. Maybe we should try whispering to the waves ourselves? I'd whisper for endless treats and belly rubs!

The husky nods sagely. If whispering gets me more treats, I'm in. But first, let's see if any of those smoothies are left unattended! Who's up for fish guts?

The four of them dart for the smoothie tent. And right about now a sliver of shade does sound refreshing, sans fish oil smoothies.

The entire lot of us moves like a mob—a sideways-walking, ocean-talking mob that has imbibed a little too much seaweed. I cast a quick glance around at the crowd and, I'll admit, the sight is nothing short of bizarre. We all look as if we're spontaneously malfunctioning with our arms and legs moving awkwardly as we shuffle sideways, shouting into the wind.

I try my best to keep a straight face as I navigate through the sea of crab-walking women, making my way toward Missy. She's in full instructor mode with her voice carrying over the sound of the waves as she encourages her class to shout out their innermost desires at the top of their lungs.

"Remember, ladies, it's all about connecting with the ocean's energy," she calls out. "Let the waves hear your dreams! The time has come to unleash your deepest, darkest desires—and your deepest, darkest secrets, too."

I'm all for that.

I'm about to extract a deep, dark secret or two from Missy Livingston—and I'm wondering if they're the murderous kind.