13. Hattie

Within seconds of being prompted to unleash dark secrets and desires, a mighty roar evicts from my fellow sand dwellers right here on the beach below the country club. And soon all sorts of wild things are shouted into the clear blue sea—some of them are far saltier than the water.

It's clear that Missy has a talent for convincing people to step out of their comfort zones. Though I suspect today's heat might have a little to do with that as well. The thermometer is about to crest triple digits, and I'm pretty sure heat-inspired delirium has long since set in.

I glance to my left and spot the ladies from my book club, aka murder club. Chevy is here, of course, whipping her blonde ponytail side to side as she crabwalks with the best of them.

Tipper Luxemburg is here as well, her brassy blonde locks scattered over the top of her head in a messy bun that looks as if it's about to unravel with her very next step.

Hillary and Kick are present, too. Hillary Pepperwood, aka Hilly, is a feisty redhead—and at the moment her face is equally as crimson as her locks, which is a tad concerning. And lastly, there's Kick Lawson, a brunette with a pixie cut who just gave birth to her fourth child a few weeks back, or at least I think it was her fourth. It might have been her fifth or eighth. Pumping out the little people seems to be something she excels at.

I watch as Tipper closes her eyes and continues to move sideways with surprising agility. "I affirm that my hair will always look perfect, even in this beachy breeze," she shouts so loud a couple of seagulls caw back at her as if responding.

Kick nods her way, slightly out of sync with her crabwalking. "I send forth a wish for a never-ending supply of chocolate that doesn't affect my waistline! Just because I had the baby doesn't mean my cravings have gone away."

A light bout of laughter breaks out among us.

A woman from the back raises a hand. "I ask that the universe makes my mother-in-law magically understand boundaries—and respects them." Preferably from the other side of the planet—or another planet entirely.

"Hear, hear," Kick says and another bout of laughter ensues.

"I've got one," a younger woman says as she nods to the sea. "I affirm that my cat will become Insta Pictures famous. We can do it, Mr. Whiskers!"

More laughter ensues.

Hey? Should Cricket and Rookie be Insta Pictures famous? I bet the free world would love Jolly Beary, too. Ooh, and maybe we'll get sponsored by some big pet food brand that sends us lots and lots of free pet food. Both Killion and I would be on board with that. My checking account might even cheer the endeavor.

"May my WI-FI never falter during binge-watching weekends," a voice from the back calls out, albeit a bit strained from the effort.

And then one after another, sort of like a barrage of rocket fire, women shout out their deepest, darkest desires to the unflinching Atlantic. Each affirmation is unique and personal—and on occasion far too personal. Yet, they all share a common thread of hope and a touch of humor. And underneath that humor, there seems to be a genuine sincerity.

I guess it goes to show that even among a group of women, who seemingly have it all, there are still desires that have gone unmet.

Missy pulls off to the side to admire the waves while encouraging the class to keep bobbing along.

This is it.

I don't waste a moment as I crabwalk my way over to the perky ponytail-wielding woman in pink.

"Hey, Missy," I pant. "How are you holding up?" I cringe a little. "I know that Jane was your friend."

"She was." Ironically. She frowns at the thought. "It's tough to think that I'll never see her again." She sighs, her eyes following the class as they move along the shoreline. "Jane was more than just a friend, she was a part of this community. It's just hard to believe she's gone."

"I agree." I nod sympathetically. "Jane was well-loved around here. It's a big loss for everyone. I feel terrible about what happened, and right here on the club grounds no less."

Her eyes glow amber as they narrow in on mine. "Hattie, don't you dare beat yourself up over it. Clearly, it was an accident. I mean, there were electrical wires near water, for Pete's sake. If anything, whoever arranged for those wires to be out here should be on the hook."

I cringe once again and she gasps.

"Oh goodness, that's not what I meant." The last thing I want is for poor Hattie to be traumatized by the fact she may have caused this. She sighs my way. "Look, I'm a firm believer that not one of us leaves this planet unless it is their time." Unless, of course, there was an accident, or they were taken off the planet by a crazed maniac, or someone who felt totally justified removing Jane from the planet. Heaven knows there's no shortage of those people.

My mouth falls open.

Is she implying she's one of those people?

"But life goes on, right?" She manages a pained smile. "We have to keep moving, keep living. That's what this class is all about. Finding healing, even when things get tough."

"Indeed," I say, studying her features for a sign of guilt. "I heard the sheriff's department is investigating this, you know, just in case it wasn't an accident."

She blinks my way. "You mean like someone lured her out that way?" Her eyes keep widening, and I'm half-afraid her eyeballs are going to bounce right out of her skull.

"I suppose." I shrug as I say it. "Come to think of it, Jane did seem a little tense last night. I mean, she didn't look like she was having the best night."

Her chin hikes up a notch. That's funny. She sighs with the thought. That little witch looked like she was having the best time last night. The best time making me miserable.

"Honestly"—she shrugs—"I think you might be right. In fact, I know you are. I overheard her and that dentist having a rather spirited discussion about something. Jane stalked off looking more than a little irritated. I wonder what that was about." Although if it's anything like the argument the two of us had, then I know exactly what it was about—and why it would lead to murder.

Now it's my eyes that are about to bounce right out of my skull.

A horrid groan comes from the crowd. We turn that way just as a sudden rustle of unease begins to ripple through the group.

One woman stops cold, mid-crabwalk, and looks around frantically. "Oh no, not now," she mutters, her face contorting in all sorts of uncomfortable directions.

Another woman nearby clutches at her stomach. "I think those smoothies were a bit too effective!"

Effective?

Peggy and Clarabelle begin clutching at one another as well.

"Oh, for goodness' sakes." Peggy swats her bestie on the arm. "Now we're gonna have to crabwalk our way to the nearest little girls' room."

Clarabelle quickly surveys the crowd. "Honey, by the looks of things, we're going to have one serious footrace on our hands."

They dart off in a blur as panic quickly spreads like wildfire among the group.

"I need a bathroom, like, right now," cries another woman, trying to stand up and losing her balance in the process.

"Where's the nearest restroom?" someone else calls out, her voice tinged with desperation.

"Ladies, stay calm," Missy calls out. "I'm sure there are plenty of restrooms to accommodate you all."

"Actually." I wince at the crowd. "There's always been somewhat of a shortage when it comes to the women's facilities," I say lower than a whisper. "But this might be the wrong time to bring that up."

A sense of urgency takes over as the women do their best to scramble up the sand, and believe me, they're not walking sideways—they're sort of tiptoeing while holding their bowels together with their arms.

A chorus of groans and panicked screams fill the air.

"I'm not going to make it," Tipper cries.

"Why did I have two of those smoothies?" Kick pants as if she's about to pass out.

"Move, move, move!" Hillary pushes them both to the side as she does her best to barrel past the crowd.

And just like that, there's a descent into chaos. I watch in horror as the entire group makes a mad dash toward the restrooms. Sand goes flying, and the smoothie tent is all but knocked over in the stampede—as it probably should be.

As every last one of them hustles past us, Missy looks at me with horror and disbelief.

"I did not see this coming." She gasps and straightens. "I think I'd better head to the little girls' room myself." I certainly didn't see that coming either.

She zips off and I thank my lucky smoothie-drinking stars that I chose to abstain from the fish gut delight.

I make my way back to the Cottage House and waiting for me on the counter is another pink box with my name on it.

It looks as if my mystery admirer has struck again.

And a chill runs up my spine because of it.