Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) by Dane McCaslin

while, contemplating a call for my go-to sugar fix and some strong tea. I didn’t have the energy to get up and walk to the nearest phone, though. Everything that had happened since I’d arrived had worn me out. I felt like one of the limp dishrags drying in the kitchen.
    The kitchen! I flashed back to the sight of kitchen staff huddled around Ellie in intense silence, waiting to hear what my cousin would say. I glanced over to where Ellie sat, Maria still hovering over her like a concerned mother hen guarding an injured chick. Making up my mind, I rose to my feet and headed in their direction.
    Ellie’s eyes were swollen, her face streaked with tears and sand. She must’ve gotten awfully close to Emmy’s body as it lay in the surf, moving gently in the water. I groaned; my aunt was going to hold this over my head for as long as I lived.
    ‘Hey, Ellie,’ I said gently, reaching over to wipe some of the grit from her cheeks. ‘It’s OK, I promise.’ I had no idea if it would be OK or not but I had to say something. I glanced up at Maria who stood there with wide eyes. ‘Could you get us some hot tea, Maria? And maybe something to munch on? Get enough for the three of us.’ She nodded and left, giving Ellie a final pat on the shoulder.
    With Maria off on her errand, I squatted down next to Ellie, looking up into her face. She looked absolutely done in, worse even than when we’d gotten stuck in the middle of a stream that had risen quicker than we’d expected. We’d been about eight years old, stranded on a sandbar and bellowing for our mamas. When at last our fathers found us, huddled together, shivering and crying, we’d both been on the verge of hysterics.
    Ellie seemed to have left me, moving somewhere near the polar opposite of her earlier hysteria, sitting in stunned silence and not speaking. I was worried, wondering if I should call for help. It’s safe to say that I was startled when she finally spoke, her voice low and gravelly from weeping.
    ‘I knew something would happen and it has. I could have prevented this, AJ.’ With that, she began to weep again, large tears slipping from her eyes and sliding down her face. I reached up and held her in my arms, rocking her slightly back and forth, trying to give her comfort. I felt my own eyes begin to sting. Keeping Ellie with me no longer seemed like such a great idea.
    As we sat drinking the tea that Maria brought, I turned the events of the day over and over in my head. I knew there had to be a connection between the three deaths, but what it was, for the life of me, I couldn’t see. I prayed with all my heart that this would end soon; I didn’t want to see one more body as long as I lived.

Chapter Eleven
    To my great disappointment, Detective Baird never came back. I suppose he went down to the beach, looking for clues and all that other jazz that detectives do whenever a suspicious death occurs. Emmy’s death, in my book, was certainly suspicious. What I couldn’t figure out was why someone would be out to get Emmy, would be so angry that they’d feel the need to get rid of her. It certainly was strange.  But the Miramar was fast becoming a magnet for strange occurrences.
    I put Ellie to sleep in my bed, opting to take the couch and be near the phone in case something else happened during the night. I could hear her tossing and muttering occasionally, but she stayed asleep for the most part and awakened me around seven the following morning.
    I ordered breakfast for us, not wanting to face the rest of the staff just then. It had occurred to me some time during the night that I was now ‘acting’ concierge. I’d need to double-check with the resort manager – I’d met him briefly on that very first day – and see what he wanted me to do. In the meantime, Ellie and I needed nourishment, and I needed to figure out what I would wear; I hadn’t brought too many formal work clothes with me to San Blanco, having been assured by Emmy that the