A Place Called Paradise - Honey Perkel

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wants us all to help get the bad guy.”

      “Who’s he?” Lulu cautiously asked, suspecting that Halley had also been summoned by Bernard.

      “Lucille, you know.”

      “And who’s the bad guy?” Lulu asked.

      “Not sure. I’m working on it. But I think he’s close by.”

      This nine year old was working on it? What did that mean?

      Lulu stepped closer to Halley and asked, “What did you think of the storm last night? Did you get scared, Halley Bee?”

      “Didn’t notice any storm last night,” the girl replied, her eyes suddenly averting Lulu’s. “I would’ve known if there’d been one.”

      “Didn’t notice a storm? Oh, yes ... yes, there was a storm. Around midnight,” Lulu insisted. “Well, maybe you slept through it.”

      “I don’t sleep.” The girl stated emphatically.

      “Oh, well …” Lulu had no doubt there was a sudden storm last night. The entire cottage had quivered with the force of the wind and rain. Either the girl had slept through it, or she was lying her purple little head off.

      Filled with renewed enthusiasm, Halley asked, “May I come in and see your cat?”

      “Sure.”

      “Great. Give me a sec, and I’ll grab Buckley. He loves to socialize!”

      Lulu and Molly

      “Is there a market nearby?” Lulu was standing in The Gull Cottage Motel’s office. Opposite her, stood Molly Spencer, her golden retriever stretched out at her feet.

      “Just a few blocks from here on Avenue U. Nice little market.” Molly was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Signaling Lulu Bean to wait, she answered the phone. It was a quick call — someone asking about room rates and if there were vacancies for later in the month. Then Molly turned back to Lulu.

      “I just wanted to say that a Continental Breakfast is set up in the lobby every morning. Six until nine. Donuts. Juice. Coffee. I also need to tell you that candles aren’t allowed in the cottages.” She spoke nervously, shuddering at the mere thought.

      Lulu stared at Molly. Donuts, yes, but no candles? Did Bernard know about this? Was there also a moratorium on burning sage? Incense? Ghost hunting? This might be a problem.

      “It’s a personal issue I have,” Molly added.

      “Anything else I should avoid?” Lulu didn’t care that her voice sounded a bit edgy.

      “Just read the rules posted on the back of your door. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

      Lulu thought for a moment. “Is there a good restaurant in town?”

      “Annie Rose’s across the street. On the spendy side, but well worth the extra cost.”

      “Thank you.” Lulu was feeling guilty for her negative attitude about the candles. Rules were rules. She would figure something out so she could burn the candles. If she needed to burn them at all. With any luck, candles wouldn’t be in the equation. With any luck at all.

      “I understand some strange things have been happening in Seaside. Plumbing problems, weather changes. What do you think’s going on?” Lulu asked.

      Molly responded. “The experts say global warming. That might explain the weather, but there’s something else happening here.”

      Fear was slowly consuming her. Molly guessed there was a lot she didn’t know, but what she had already experienced made her afraid for her family, for the whole town. She couldn’t imagine Seaside being destroyed.

      They were interrupted by a loud cry in the small alcove behind the office.

      “I’m sorry.” Molly gave a slight smile. “Looks like someone has awakened from her nap.” She stepped away from the desk and returned moments later with a baby in her arms.

      “She’s beautiful!” Lulu exclaimed. The baby’s cobalt blue eyes were her strongest, most amazing feature. Eyes that were the same as Molly Spencer’s. The same as Bernard’s. And the jet-black hair and long fingers. There was no doubt that this child resembled the ghost.

      Still riveted by the baby’s beauty, Lulu could only whisper, “She’s enchanting. How old is she?”

      “She was a year old yesterday.” Molly beamed.

      “You and your husband must be very proud.”

      “Yes, well, Scott isn’t Hope Amelia’s father. He and I just got married eight months ago. After my first husband died.”

      “I’m sorry.” Lulu said.

      “He was killed in an accident.”

      “What does your husband do?”

      “Scott is an attorney. He moved here from Seattle just before we got married. He has an office over on Roosevelt Street and helps me here on weekends.”

      Lulu changed the subject. “What do you know of Halley Bee Rice?”

      “The little girl in cottage number five? Seems like a nice kid. Precocious. Odd at times. She and her mother are staying for the summer.”

      “Have you ever caught her in a lie or had any trouble with her?”

      “With Halley? Heavens, no. There’s been no trouble with her or her mother. Why?”

      “No reason.”

      “The child is afraid of the dark. Told me she sees things. Her mother sleeps with her. They have the lights on all night.”

      “I see.” Lulu said, thoughtfully. Maybe the kid really didn’t sleep. If she had been awake, she would have heard the storm last night.

      “I’m sorry about the candles. I could see you were upset.”

      As she moved towards the office door, Lulu called back to Molly, “No problem. I’ll see you later. ”

      Molly watched as Lulu left the motel. She knew why Lulu Bean was here — Bernard had told her. He’d talked to her as he did most every night, standing at the foot of her bed. An apparition. A friend. Family. He was watching over them now. Watching over the town he loved. And he had called in the troops, individuals who had lost loved ones to help save this beautiful place called Paradise.

      Molly hoped things weren’t as bad as she feared they might be, but she had seen the worried lines on her cousin Bernard’s face each night. She had witnessed the dark shadows on the wall that had taken her breath away. The strange. The bizarre. She was seeing it all. And last night ... her nightmares were returning.

      A Walk Into Town

      As Lulu made her way towards Broadway, she passed dozens of old beach houses that must have seen one hundred summers come and go. They’d survived treacherous winter storms and baked under the boiling summer sun, were painted and scraped and painted again in order to attract the yearly tourists. Their sprawling front porches were laden with pots of geraniums and nasturtiums, American flags, and white wicker lawn chairs. Small town, USA.

      Each house was fronted by a thick, green lawn and bountiful blooms. Picturesque. Perfect. Gardens that never die. She knew all about this phenomenon. Bernard had described everything.

      The warm sea air touched Lulu’s face and ran through her hair as she made her way along the wide boardwalk. Passersby smiled their morning greeting, walked their dogs, and pushed baby strollers. A Norman Rockwell scene.

      Down on the beach, joggers ran up the shoreline. Kites flew. No one knew of the terrors that lurked below the surface of the town, the ocean, even in the air they breathed. No one knew that the beach town was on the brink of disaster.

      Seaside

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