Dead in the Dinghy

by Ellen Jacobson

  “Nah, I’m good. I can wait until later. I want to check out what I’ve shot so far.”

  After quickly getting ready, I opened the bunkhouse door. “Gosh, it’s foggy out there. But at least it stopped raining.” Mrs. Moto flew past me. “Hey, wait for me.”

  I could barely keep up with the calico as she ran toward the main house. She darted up on the porch, then sat on the welcome mat and pawed at the door, eager for her breakfast. As I started to turn the knob, she cocked her head to one side. Her ears flattened down and the fur on her back stood straight up.

  She jumped onto the porch railing, knocking a pair of reading glasses and one of Thomas’ cuff links on the ground. As I bent to pick them up, she yowled before leaping off and running toward the dinghy dock.

  “What about your breakfast?” I yelled after her. “You’re not the only one who’s hungry. We can look at the fish later.”

  As I walked down the dock, taking care not to slip, I saw her standing by the cleat where our dinghy had been tied off. It was nowhere to be seen. I groaned. “Don’t tell me it sank in the storm.”

  Mrs. Moto rubbed against my ankles while I thought about how much money it would cost to replace our dinghy. As I peered out into the fog, I could just about make out a shape bobbing in the water. Could that be our dinghy? How did it get out there?

  There was a line coming up from under the dock and toward the floating object. If I was lucky, the stern anchor had fallen overboard and the end of the line nearest to me was attached to it while the other end was attached to the dinghy. If that was the case, I could try to use the anchor line to pull the dinghy back toward me.

  I lay down on the dock to see if I could reach the line with my hand, but it was too far away. It probably also didn’t help that Mrs. Moto climbed onto my back while I was trying to get a hold of it.

  “Come on kitty, let’s find something to snag the line.” We walked to the end of the dock where I spotted an old rusty boat hook. That did the trick. I was able to snag the line and pull it close enough to me to be able to grab it with my hands. Then I stood and pulled what I hoped was our dinghy toward the dock.

  “Wow. This dinghy is heavier than I remember,” I said. “Maybe because it’s full of water from the storm.”

  I continued to pull on the line, hand over hand until the object came into view. “It is our dinghy,” I said to Mrs. Moto. Then I almost dropped the line in the water in shock. There was a reason why it was heavier than normal—Gregor was lying in it motionless, his arms and legs sprawled over the side. As I pulled the dinghy closer to the dock to tie it off, the fog cleared and I could see him clearly. So clearly that I could make out a dark red stain on the center of his Hello Kitty t-shirt. A dark red stain the color of blood.

  “I think he’s dead,” I said.

  Mrs. Moto meowed in agreement.

  5

  Annoying Seagulls

  After taking a deep breath to calm myself, I finished securing the dinghy to the dock. As I leaned over and felt for a pulse, I confirmed my suspicion—Gregor was dead. The wound on his chest sent chills down my spine. This wasn’t an accidental death. He had been stabbed.

  “Let’s go get help, Mrs. Moto,” I said.

  The calico yowled, then raced up the beach toward the house. I followed at a slower pace, pausing occasionally to stop and look back at the dock. Who could have killed Gregor, and why?

  As I neared Warlock’s Manor, Scooter and Thomas were standing on the veranda, the agitated cat running circles around them and meowing loudly. Scooter was still wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants he had borrowed the previous night. Thomas was already dressed for the day in one of his eccentric outfits—a dark blue button-down shirt, a tie with a pineapple print on it, a canary yellow vest, hot pink trousers with a yellow pinstripe, and his customary flip-flops.

  “How was your walk?” Thomas asked. He looked up at the sky. “Now that the storm has passed, it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

  I frowned. “It wasn’t exactly a walk.”

  “Everything okay?” Scooter asked before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You seem lost in thought.”

  “No, everything’s not—” I started to say.

  “Hang on a minute,” Scooter said. He scooped Mrs. Moto up and held her in his arms. “What’s gotten into you? You keep screaming like you haven’t been fed in weeks.” He turned to me. “You did feed her, right?”

  “Actually, I didn’t have a chance.”

  “We’ll have to remedy that, won’t we my little admiral?” Scooter cooed. Mrs. Moto squirmed out of his arms and ran toward the dock. “The kitchen’s back here,” he yelled after her.

  “Maybe she doesn’t like ham,” Thomas suggested.

  “No, she loves ham,” Scooter said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. It’s like she’s on some sort of mission.”

  “She is,” I said.

  “Huh? What kind of mission?” Scooter asked.

  “Well, I’m not quite sure how to put this,” I said.

  Scooter pushed his glasses up on his nose. “What’s going on?”

  I took a deep breath. “Gregor is dead.”

  Thomas gasped. “Dead?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Dead in our dinghy.”

  “But…but how?” Thomas asked. “Was it a heart attack?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “A stroke?”

  I shook my head.

  Thomas continued listing potential causes of death for men over the age of sixty. I suspected that he had a lot of medical sites bookmarked on his computer.

  When he ran out of possible explanations related to natural death, Scooter asked, “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

  I pointed at the porch swing. “You might want to sit down.”

  “I think I know where this going,” Scooter said as he sat at one end of the swing.

  Thomas continued to stand, his gaze darting back and forth between Scooter and me.

  “I think Gregor was murdered.” I paused to gauge Thomas’ reaction. He had been pretty vocal in his dislike of Gregor. How did he feel about his demise? Then I had a chilling thought—what if Thomas had been the one to stab him?

  “Are you sure it wasn’t a heart attack or stroke?” the artist asked in a quiet voice.

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  “How sure?” Thomas asked.

  I was about to tell him about the blood, when I noticed Scooter’s ashen face. A description of how Gregor had died was going to be too much for him to handle. Normally, in situations like this, I would give him some chocolate, but all my M&M’S were at the bottom of the sea.

  “Maybe I should show you instead,” I suggested to Thomas. “Scooter, why don’t you wait here?”

  “Okay,” both of them said at the same time. Scooter looked relieved. Thomas looked apprehensive.

  As we walked down the beach, I asked, “Are you sure you want to see this?”

  Thomas paused and straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be fine. I’ve taken first aid courses before.”

  “Uh, this isn’t quite the same thing,” I said.

  He nodded slowly, then continued toward the dock. Mrs. Moto met us halfway. She gave a plaintive meow before escorting us the rest of the way.

  After Thomas looked at the body, he said, “You’re right. This wasn’t a heart attack.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “Maybe we should go back and call the authorities.”

  Thomas ignored me, continuing to stare at Gregor, his expression alternating between shock and something that almost looked like relief.

  “Let’s go back to the house, okay?” I said. “Does Destiny Key have its own police force?”

  Thomas tore his gaze away from the dinghy. “Um, yeah. They do. The chief of police is actually Michael’s cousin.” I looked at him blankly. “Michael is the guy who owns Warlock’s Manor. I’ll give the chief a call.” He reached into his pocket and pulled his cell phone
out. “Cell service is still down. I’ll have to try him on the VHF.”

  As we walked back down the beach, I asked if he knew if Gregor had any relatives in the area.

  Thomas shrugged. “I have no idea. My only interactions with him had to do with the art world.”

  “It seemed like there was some bad blood between the two of you.”

  He gave a wry laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.” Then he gave me an appraising look. “Wait, you don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”

  I held my hands up. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m just curious about him is all. No one seemed happy to see him when he arrived last night. Except maybe Victoria, and I’m not even sure about that.”

  “I don’t know why she put up with him,” Thomas said bitterly. “He was emotionally abusive to her.”

  “So you knew they were seeing each other?” I asked.

  “Yes. She confided in me once after they’d had a big fight. But she begged me to keep it to myself. I shouldn’t have. I’ve known men like that before. I should have made sure she got help.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But at least she’s free of him now.”

  “Speaking of Victoria,” I said, pointing at the house. She was standing on the veranda with Anabel. Both of the women were holding mugs, reminding me that I hadn’t had my morning coffee. With all the adrenaline coursing through my body as a result of finding Gregor, I hadn’t needed my usual caffeine fix.

  “I better go break the news to her,” Thomas said. “Then I’ll try to get a hold of Chief Tyler.”

  I sat on the porch swing next to Scooter. The color had returned to his face. Mrs. Moto was curled up in his lap, purring loudly as he stroked her.

  “So it really is mur…” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘murder’ out loud.

  I nodded as I reached over to scratch the calico’s head. We sat in silence for a few moments watching as Thomas explained to Victoria what had happened. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Then she pulled away and rubbed her eyes.

  “I need to see him,” she said.

  “You don’t want to see him like that,” Thomas said.

  She flapped her hands in the air. “I need to make sure he’s dead.”

  “Trust me. You don’t want to do this,” Thomas said.

  Anabel grabbed Victoria’s hand. “Why don’t we go inside and have some more coffee?”

  Victoria shook her head. “I don’t want coffee. I want to see Gregor.” She walked down the veranda steps shakily.

  Anabel rushed over to her. “At least let me come with you,” she said, putting her hand through Victoria’s arm.

  “Mollie, why don’t you go with them?” Thomas said. “I really need to call the chief.”

  I rose and walked over to the two women. Victoria’s face looked drawn and she was shivering despite the warmth of the sun. I put my hand through Victoria’s other arm so that Anabel and I could help steady her as we walked down the beach.

  When we reached the dinghy, the grieving woman inhaled sharply. She fell to her knees, mumbling Gregor’s name in between sobs. Anabel tried to help her to her feet, but she shook her off.

  “Why don’t we give her a minute?” I suggested.

  While we waited, some seagulls circled overhead. Looking at the bright sun and blue sky, it was hard to believe that there had been such a violent storm the previous night, let alone a murder.

  “You ready for that coffee?” Anabel asked Victoria gently.

  Victoria clasped her hands in front of her and closed her eyes as if in prayer. Then she rose to her feet. Her foot caught on the boat hook, causing her to lose her balance. I quickly grabbed her to keep her from falling in the water.

  “I’m fine,” she said, brushing me off. “I need a few minutes to myself. I’m going to walk along the beach.”

  After watching to make sure she got to the end of the dock safely, Anabel turned to me. “Do you know what she told me this morning? Gregor proposed to her last night. She was so happy. They were planning on being married at Christmastime.”

  “Why would she agree to marry him?” I asked. “Thomas told me that he was emotionally abusive to her.”

  “You got me,” Anabel said. “I couldn’t believe it when I realized that he was who she had been seeing. Gregor was always bragging about how he was some sort of international playboy.”

  I snorted. “Him?”

  “He was rich. Some women find that attractive. He once showed me pictures of him with a beautiful model on his arm at an art show in New York City. Compared to that young woman, Victoria is, well…”

  “Older?” I suggested.

  “Let’s just say that she didn’t seem like his type. But maybe that’s why she liked him. She might have felt good that he chose her over a younger woman.”

  “But that might have also made her insecure,” I said. “She’d always be worried that he was going to ditch her.”

  “And he did the other night when he sent her that text.”

  “But he claimed that it was a lovers’ tiff,” I said.

  “I wonder how many times he did that to her before,” Anabel mused.

  “How long had they been dating?”

  “I’m not sure,” Anabel said. “That’s a good question. She first mentioned that she was seeing someone a few weeks ago when we were having lunch, but it might have started before then.”

  “If it was just a few weeks ago, that would have been a quick engagement. I didn’t notice a ring on Victoria’s finger.”

  “He didn’t give her one. She said it was a spontaneous proposal, but that he promised he’d give her a ring soon. He was planning on having one designed for her by an artist in Paris. It was going to be a large ruby with emeralds on either side. From the way she described the ring, it sounded like the ruby was going to be the size of a walnut.”

  I looked down at my own diamond engagement ring and wedding band and smiled as I thought back to when Scooter and I had decided to get married. There was still some disagreement as to who had proposed to whom, but we both had agreed as to the type of wedding we wanted—small and slightly quirky. It did turn out that our idea of quirky differed. For some reason, Scooter drew the line at a Star Wars theme.

  “Why don’t we go get some coffee?” Anabel asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  One of the seagulls landed in the dinghy. “Shoo,” I said, tugging on the line to scare it off. “Get out of there.”

  That one flew away, only to be replaced by two others. I jumped up and down, waving my hands wildly to scare them off.

  “I think I better stay here before this turns into some kind of Hitchcock movie,” I said.

  “You mean like The Birds?” Anabel asked.

  “Uh-huh. Ned showed that at the marina last week. Gave me nightmares. The last thing we need is a gang of birds attacking us. Why don’t you go back to the house and find out if Thomas got hold of the chief of police and when he’ll be here?”

  “Okay,” she said. As she turned to leave, she looked back at Gregor, then quietly said, “Good riddance.”

  * * *

  I’m not sure why the seagulls thought the scene of a murder was so fascinating, but every time I scared one off, more swooped down to check things out. It was time to call in reinforcements. I saw Scooter and Mrs. Moto halfway down the beach and hurried over to them.

  “I need to borrow the admiral for a while,” I said to Scooter.

  He was kneeling on the sand videoing the calico while she chased a crab. He looked up at me. “Why’s that?”

  “There are some seagulls I want to introduce her to.” I explained how a large crowd of them was gathering by the dinghy. “She’s always been good at chasing birds away.”

  “Ooh. That would be a fun to film.” He paused as he remembered exactly what was in the dinghy. “Wait a minute, maybe it wouldn’t be that much fun.”

  “I’m also going to need your phone. I want to take s
ome pictures of Gregor’s, um, body.”

  “Not on my phone, you’re not.” Scooter clutched his cell close to him. “Why are you getting involved, anyway? Thomas said he was calling the police.”

  “I’m not getting involved. I’m just documenting the scene.” I peered over my shoulder at the dock. There was a lone seagull sitting on one of the posts. “I promise not to drop your phone in the water.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t want pictures of a, um…” He tried to keep from saying ‘dead body’ out loud, but couldn’t find a suitable euphemism.

  “Recently departed person?” I suggested.

  He nodded.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll email the photos to me and delete them before I return it.” I held out my hand. He reluctantly put the phone in it.

  “Now, where did that cat go?” Scooter asked.

  Hearing a splashing sound behind me, I turned to look at the water and saw the calico happily paddling along the shoreline. “Oh my gosh, she’s swimming again.”

  “Do you think she actually likes that?” Scooter asked.

  “Well, it’s not like last night when she might have just been trying to escape from the dinghy. She voluntarily went in the water this time.”

  “That’s the strangest thing. I didn’t know cats liked to swim.” He grabbed the phone back from me. “I’ve got to get this on camera. Mrs. Moto’s fans are going to love this.”

  “Fans? She has fans?”

  “Uh-huh. And a fan club. They’re called the Kalico Kittens.”

  “How many members are there?”

  “Well, just three right now,” he admitted. “But once we launch the YouTube channel, it’s going to explode. I’m going to set up an online shop with all sorts of merchandise with the Kalico Kittens logo on it.”

  The conversation reminded me of Gregor’s Hello Kitty t-shirt and the need to get back to defend the dinghy from the birds. “Here kitty, kitty,” I called out. “Come with mama and let’s go chase some birds.”

  The admiral swam back to shore, shook water off her fur, then promptly plopped down on the beach and rolled over.