Page 9 of Murder on the Boardwalk

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Everybody says it. Have you ever heard of a surfer who hung around our section of beach and went by the nickname Zephyr? It would’ve been back in the late 1970s. He would’ve been older, maybe nineteen or twenty, possibly as old as twenty-four or so.”

Wally frowned and shook his head. “Zephyr? Never heard of him. Does this have anything to do with Jane Doe?”

“We got a tip that she was seen hanging out with a surfer named Zephyr during the week before her death.”

“Maybe they called him that because he ran the old arcade or hung out there a lot,” Wally suggested. “By the time I was born in 1982, the place had burned to the ground. But it’s worth asking some of the longtime residents about their recollection.”

“We’ll do that,” Lucien said with a nod. “We seem to be circling back to the same place with the same information.”

“Sorry. Wish I could be more help. I hope you find out who she was.”

“Me too,” echoed Lilly. “She deserves to get her name back. You know who might have some information for you?”

“No, who?”

“Tazzie Crossland. She lives over on Beacon Lane. She was fifteen years old back in 1978. That would make her sixty now. She used to hang out at the arcade. I know because, during the church picnic back in July, Tazzie kept talking about living her whole life in Pelican Pointe. She’s still living in the house where she grew up. She kept reminiscing about ‘the good ol’ days’ when she was a teenager. She told a group of us about her boyfriends. Maybe one of them could’ve been Zephyr.”

“This Tazzie would be about the same age as our Jane Doe, wouldn’t she?” Brogan pointed out as she keyed in the name on her iPhone.

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Thanks, Lilly. We’ll add her name to our list.”

“You have a list?”

“It’s actually more like an old census from 1970.”

“Tazzie would be in there then,” Lilly concluded. “You’d get around to her eventually.”

“But this way, we get to start with her.”

“I hope Tazzie has something for you,” Lilly said. “Just know that when you knock on her door, she’s liable to talk your ear off about anything and everything. If you really want to get her talking, get Jordan to make her a pecan pie. Tazzie loves Jordan’s pecan pies.”

“Should I bring coffee, too?”

Lilly chuckled. “Her favorite coffee is a caramel cappuccino. It’s okay if you don’t remember. Paula will.”

Paula Bretton owned the only coffee shop in town, The Perky Pelican, and had an uncanny ability to remember everyone’s order off the top of her head.

“It’s spooky the way Paula does that.”

“I know. Her daughter Chloe is the complete opposite. She never gets my order right.”

“Same here,” Brogan commiserated. “Don’t feel bad. I try not to go in there when Chloe’s behind the counter.”

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Wally noted. “Sorry to interrupt. But Marley will be calling about her car.”

“No, that’s okay,” Lucien said. “We have a couple more stops before we head home.”

“Good luck,” Wally called out as they started for the door.

Before they could exit, Lilly thought of something else. “Wait. If you can’t get a pie on short notice, talk gardening. Tazzie loves growing her own flowers and vegetables. You’ll be able to spot her house by her amazing garden in the front yard.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Lilly.”

Neither Brogan nor Lucien said anything else until they got back in the pickup.

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