Whitley, the longtime general manager, stood waiting under the flower-lined porte-cochère wearing a bright coral sportscoat. His vivid jackets made him easy to find by his staff and guests alike. He crossed to the squad car.
Another message crackled through Blue’s radio. The call was canceled.
Blue got out of the car to confirm with Whitley.
“Officer Blumenthal.” Whitley extended his hand. “Thank you for coming, but the matter has been resolved. It was a few spirited teens and a dare to call the police. I hope we could leave it at that? The chief agreed, given the circumstances of high-profile parents. Again, my apologies.”
Blue dragged a hand over his jaw. Sometimes Crown Island operated on another level. “Was anyone harmed?”
“No. It was a prank, the lad’s father explained. These kids are thirteen, and I believe they’ve learned their lesson. May we leave it at that?”
“Since the chief has agreed, it’s above my rank.” Blue shook his hand. “I’ll note it in the report.”
Blue turned to leave, but Whitley touched his arm. “If you have a few minutes, it would be helpful if they saw you here. Would you walk with me? Seeing you would drive the point home.”
“I’m sure it would.” Blue had his radio in case he was needed elsewhere.
“This way,” Whitley said.
They set out along the perimeter of the hotel grounds, following the gravel path that curved past the gardens and the pool terrace.
“How is your occupancy since the renovation?”
“Fortunately, the hotel is full. Maileah did an excellent job with our marketing and promotions.”
“The local businesses appreciate that, too.” Blue knew Jo was busier this season, which was why she promoted Candy to assistant manager.
There he went again, thinking about Jo. Blue flexed his jaw.
The Majestic was in high season. Families spread across the beach on loungers under striped umbrellas. On the hotel property, the pool area had few open seats. People chatted in and around the pool, sipping drinks and watching while kids played in the shallow end.
“Let’s pause by the private villa pool,” Whitley said, walking a little farther down the path.
Blue understood. They passed the spa entrance where a couple in white terrycloth robes were emerging.
It was the kind of scene that made Crown Island feel like a place where nothing bad could happen. Blue knew better than to trust that feeling. Still, this had been a welcome change from his Chicago beat.
“We’re almost there,” Whitley said. “We won’t disturb them. I think your presence will be enough.”
Blue kept his dark sunglasses on, concealing his observations. He saw a family with two young teen boys sitting on a patio overlooking the villa pool. The boys hung their heads, their behavior having been caught and corrected.
When the boys saw Blue, their eyes widened. Fear flickered across their faces. He also recognized the father standing slightly to one side, also in sunglasses.
The man touched the brim of his baseball cap in appreciation.
Blue gave a slight nod. Those kids wouldn’t forget this day.
He and Whitley lingered a little longer until they were sure they’d made an impression before continuing their walk.
The breeze picked up, carrying the scents of salt air, sunscreen, and the garden’s plumeria.
Once they were on the backside of the hotel property, Whitley asked, “Now that that’s done, how is your mother, Blue? Ella told me you had to rush to Chicago to help her.”
Blue told him the short version. As he spoke, he took off his sunglasses to clean them as they walked toward the front. He’d known Whitley since his first week on Crown Island, and he didn’t have any secrets from him.
The older man had been one of the first people to make him feel at home when Blue arrived on the island feeling out of place. He’d bought Blue dinner at the hotel restaurant, introduced him to locals, and treated him like an equal despite their obvious differences.
Blue learned a lot about kindness and good manners by watching Whitley, who missed little of what went on in the hotel yet treated guests and staff with respect.
