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by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

A big bang launched the Fourth of July. An overly anxious doofus in the neighborhood firing an actual cannon, at seven in the morning, was the entire neighborhood's wake up call. Miguel bolted upright when it went off, Sara didn't stir. Time to get up anyway, he decided, shaking Sara.
"Morning," he whispered.
"Morning, what time is it?"
"You didn't hear the seven a.m. cannon go off?"
"I guess I was out. I didn't hear a thing. A real cannon?" She asked.
"A real cannon, probably used to start races at the yacht club," said Miguel.
"And start the Fourth of July?" Sara groaned.
"We better get downstairs for the show and tell. We don't want anyone wondering if they should clap or not."
"Can you call someone to shower and dress me?" Sara begged.
"Afraid not, c'mon, you can do it. Doesn't breakfast sound good, bacon, eggs, sausages?" Miguel coaxed her.
"Stop it, I'm going to be sick, you know I don't eat bacon, asshole," Sara swore at him.
"Okay, maybe a little nap after the show?"
"At least start the shower for me, I'll be right there," Sara sat up.

Downstairs, a crowd was gathered around the buffet and TV as Miguel's face popped up on the screen for the third time in two days. This time he focused on the food and coffee, the show, he'd already seen. He hung around out of guilt since this was supposed to be all about him.
With the segment and applause over, Miguel wandered out to the veranda for his morning dose of caffeine and vitamin D. He was taken aback at how clean the beach was. The tents, tables, and umbrellas were gone. There wasn't an errant napkin in sight, and the sand had been raked. It looked like a Zen garden. Miguel mused, The rich are so orderly.
"Compared to last night, everything's looking shipshape this morning," Sara said, joining him.
"Isn't it, though?"
"Let's take a walk on the beach after coffee; it may be the only solitude we'll have today," Sara suggested.
I think she's actually warming up to this lifestyle, Miguel mused, happy to see Sara lowering her guard.
That sounds nice, I've had enough coffee anyway," said Miguel, anxious to score more goodwill any way he could.
They wandered off, down the stairs and across the lawn, spotting Cece coming out of the guest house.
"Morning, you're late," said Miguel, smiling.
"Quite the night, I'll tell you all about it later," Cece said heading toward the buffet. Miguel and Sara continued toward the beach.

Past the pool, where the lawn met the beach, Sara caught a flash of bright pink on otherwise pristine sand. Curious, she steered Miguel towards what turned out to be a small bundle of clothes: a girl's shorts, a crop top, and sandals.
"Somebody went skinny dipping last night," Miguel said casually.
"Looks that way, here's the footprints leading to the water," Sara pointed. "Clothes still here and no other footprints? What the hell?" Sara looked at him quizzically.
"Yeah, there's something wrong with this picture. Stay here, but don't touch anything. I'll get Aisha," said Miguel.

Aisha was deep in conversation with Hayden and Stacy, the couple from dinner the previous evening, in the living room.
"Sorry to interrupt. Sara and I were out for a walk on the beach; we found a bundle of what looked like women's clothing and footprints leading into the water. But no footprints came out of the water. It's very strange; I think you need to have a look," Miguel related to Aisha.
Aisha glanced at Hayden and then back at Miguel. "Show me," she said, rising from the sofa.

"What time did they finish cleaning the beach last night?" Miguel asked.
"As far as I know, around ten p.m.," said Aisha.
Miguel led her to where Sara was guarding the clothes.
"So it's fair to assume that whoever left the footprints did so after ten p.m.?" Miguel looked at Aisha.
"That would make sense," Aisha said.
"I don't recognize the clothes, do you, Sara?"
"No, none of it's particularly memorable," said Sara.
"Could someone have been strolling on the beach late last night, gone for a dip, let the current carry them down the beach, where they got out, walking home naked? Or could it be a Jaws situation?" Miguel decides to avoid the similarity in front of the women.
"We need to do a room check. We saw Cece on the way out. Has anyone seen Rachel or Alissa?" Miguel was starting to take charge.
"Check on the others? I'll stay here," Miguel directed.

Aisha and Sara went to the guest house and knocked on all the bedroom doors. Alissa answered, but Rachel didn't. Entering Rachel's room, they were confronted with a still-made bed. All her belongings seemed to be in order, no sign of a struggle or anything unusual. But no Rachel.

"Should we call the police? Is it like on television, where you have to wait forty-eight hours before they take a missing person report?" Sara asked Aisha.
"Normally, that's the rule, but this is a little different; a person missing under suspicious circumstances. We are going to notify the police. They may have already found, or may soon find, a floater, or a body with no ID, alive or dead," said Aisha.

Aisha had to let Hayden know what was going on, and she wanted an explanation of why, and by whom, Rachel Sperling had been invited. Hayden had a lot of pull in town. Being a personal friend of the chief of police, the most logical thing would be for Hayden to report Rachel missing, hoping he could convince the chief to extend a favor by keeping a lid on things thru the weekend.
"We need someone other than Miguel to watch the beach and clothing," said Sara.
"I'll get some staff down there".
"Okay, I'll go tell him what's happening," said Sara, on her way out the door.

Miguel became absorbed in thought while he waited. Whoever owned the clothes either chose not to come back for them, or couldn't. Which was more likely? Impossible to say.
He recalled Rachel talking to Rookwood on the beach last night. Was he the last person to see her? He saw Sara crossing the lawn.
"Remember Rachel and Hayden talking on the beach last night? Did you get the sense they were arguing?" Miguel asked when she got closer.
"Not at all," she replied.
"Same here, it seems so odd, what did they have to say to each other that required stepping away from everyone?
"No idea, honey. Some staff guys are to come down and guard the beach. Aisha is phoning the police in case they've come across an unidentified body," said Sara.
"Ha! Maybe Rachel wants people to believe she's been eaten by a shark. Is that a possibility?"
"She didn't act or talk like a depressed or irrational person, quite the opposite from what I could see," said Miguel.
"Did you see her after we spotted her on the beach?" Sara asked.
"No, I was with you, remember?" said Miguel.
"Where are those guys? I don't want to waste the day playing Baywatch," Miguel grumbled.
"Now you're the one sounding suicidal, relax; help is on its way," said Sara.

Five minutes later, two porters arrived with orange traffic cones, stakes, and security tape. They surrounded the footprints and clothes with stakes and security tape. The cones were used to create a path over the lawn for the rare stray pedestrian.
"We got it from here," said one.
"Appreciate it," said Miguel, heading for the house.

Crossing the lawn toward the main house, Miguel was surprised so few people were out on the veranda. He recognized the remaining house guests: Alissa, Cece, and the Goodmans, but not Aisha. He finally spotted Aisha in the house, again, sitting on a sofa in the great room with Hayden. Not wanting to interrupt, Miguel and Sara gave a wave and headed into the kitchen for a bottle of water before returning outside for updating on any news.

Sitting alone on the veranda, Cece looked distressed.
"You okay?" Miguel asked.
"Not really. Rachel's suddenly missing, and I can't help but wonder, WTF."
"She was in a great mood yesterday, didn't seem like anything was bothering her, and now this? Not the weekend I was expecting," Cece said.
"I agree, a weekend in the Hamptons, and I didn't bring a thing to wear for a missing person investigation. What's wrong with me?" Sara was seldom sarcastic, but when she was, Miguel knew to be on his guard.
"Look, it's probably nothing, we just misinterpreted some vague clues and jumped to conclusions," Miguel said.
"Maybe she met someone and got on a boat?" Sara said, sounding unconvinced. Miguel had to agree; it was unlikely, not impossible, but not likely.
Alissa joined their table, and Cece asked if there was anything new and what she knew about Rachel and her background.
"I met her for the first time yesterday. I know nothing about her, and there's no news inside either," Alissa said.
Cece and Sara, speculating about abductions and mass murders.

"Anything new?" Miguel kept asking anyone who came within earshot.
"We're waiting to see what Aisha decides, but I hope she realizes they need to call the police," said Alissa.
"Maybe Rachel took off with someone from the party last night, and the footprints and the clothes have nothing to do with her. Or, maybe the clothes and footprints aren't even connected," someone said hopefully.
"All very mysterious. Either way, I don't see anyone being in a party mood today unless Rachel shows up real soon," said Alissa.
"That's for sure," said Cece.

In the house, away from the guests, Aisha confronted Hayden.
"What the hell were you thinking, Hayden?" Aisha looked at him with daggers.
"It was a five-day party, I didn't see any harm in having some late-night company available," Hayden retorted.
"You were the last person to see Rachel before she vanished into thin air. Doesn't that make you a little nervous, that you may be a suspect?" Aisha glared.
"Suspect of what?" Hayden asked.
"I don't know what's up with you lately; you're becoming increasingly reckless. The Hayden of fifteen years ago would have never exposed himself to this risk." Aisha was getting warmed up now. "Think of the reputational damage to the organization if she's found dead."
"If she's dead, I can assure you, I didn't kill her. I was at the house all night, playing poker, wondering where she was." Hayden shot back.
"Oh, I feel so much better now," Aisha sneered at him.
"I have a tableful of witnesses," Hayden said calmly.

Aisha stewed silently over the work she had put into Miguel Angelo's coming-out party, now being undone by Hayden's childish act of indulgence.
"If you hadn't invited her, she wouldn't have disappeared, would she? Now we have to get the police out here, you understand that at least, right?" Aisha insisted.
"The chief is on his way," Hayden replied.

The weekend was becoming just another manifestation of Hayden's mental decline. To Aisha's eyes, there were signs everywhere. He was seventy-eight years old, and lately, he was acting like a horny twenty-year-old, rather than the suave art market genius she remembered. Rookwood would never acknowledge his transgressions. Her resulting feeling of helplessness was utterly unacceptable to her. Hayden was forcing her hand; she had to act before his reputation crumbled, bringing the whole enterprise crashing down on top of her. Aisha couldn't let that happen.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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