Dead in the Dinghy

by Ellen Jacobson

  Thomas rubbed his face. “I guess that could have been the case.”

  “Do me a favor and think back to that night,” I said. “You came downstairs to check on the generator. You went into the drawing room and looked out the bay window. That’s when you saw a woman that looked like Victoria, right?” He nodded. “Did you see her face?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “When you were in the drawing room, did you see anyone sleeping on one of the couches?” Thomas shook his head. I looked at Sawyer. “At the art presentation, Olivia told Ben and me that your allergies were bothering you and that you were snoring.”

  Sawyer’s face reddened. “Snoring? I don’t snore.”

  “Mollie snores sometimes, too,” Scooter said with a smile.

  “I don’t snore,” I said. “I purr. It’s like how woman don’t sweat, they glow. Anyway, it doesn’t matter whether you were snoring or purring, Sawyer. What matters is that Olivia said that she went to sleep in the drawing room that night because of the noise. But Thomas didn’t see her when he was in there.”

  “That’s because she was standing on the dock,” Thomas said slowly.

  “Correct. She arranged to meet Gregor that night to discuss his demand. Then she killed him with his own knife. She pushed him into the dinghy, then untied it from the dock, hoping it would float away somewhere into the mangroves where no one would see it. What she didn’t count on was the stern anchor falling out, catching on the bottom, and preventing it from drifting away.”

  “There’s no way I would have been that stupid,” Olivia scoffed. “You forget that I’m an experienced sailor. I would have made sure that the stern anchor wasn’t deployed.”

  “You had just killed someone. People make mistakes in the heat of the moment.” I leaned forward. “It’s understandable why you did what you did. Gregor wasn’t a nice man. He was threatening to expose your parents for what they were—second-rate artists who couldn’t cut it on their own, so they painted forgeries instead.”

  Olivia pounded the table with her fist. “My parents weren’t second rate!” She pointed at Thomas, Sawyer, and Anabel, each in turn. “Not like all of you. None of you has half the talent that they had. They could have made a name for themselves if it wasn’t for people like Gregor. He blackmailed them into painting forgeries. He ruined their lives and he ruined mine. Do you know what it’s like being an eighteen-year old-girl and seeing your parents arrested? He deserved to die! And so did that insipid woman, Victoria. A chimpanzee could have painted better than she did. I did her a favor by destroying her paintings.”

  Thomas lunged across the table and grabbed Olivia. “You killed my cousin,” he said, shaking her by the shoulders before collapsing back into his chair and sobbing.

  Chief Dalton rose to his feet and walked over to the young woman. “Olivia Peterson, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Gregor Smirnov and Victoria Williams.”

  After he read Olivia her rights and escorted her out of the bar, we all sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “Anyone want another drink?” Ben asked.

  After the waitress brought us over another round, I asked Thomas if he wouldn’t mind clearing up something. “When I was at Warlock’s Manor yesterday, I found a piece of Gregor’s cane in the fireplace. Were you trying to burn it?”

  Thomas ran his fingers through his hair. “You have to understand. I thought Victoria had killed Gregor. After I saw her that night…or at least, I thought I saw her, I went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. So I got dressed and went out for a walk before dawn. It was foggy out so I took a flashlight with me. Without realizing it, I found myself on the dock. That’s when I saw the bottom of Gregor’s cane. I picked it up, then shone the light out on the water.”

  “You saw Gregor in the dinghy, didn’t you?” I asked.

  Thomas sighed. “I did. That’s when I suspected Victoria.”

  I tapped Scooter’s arm. “Remember when we saw Jim at the Sailor’s Corner Cafe earlier this week and he slipped up and said something about Thomas discovering Gregor’s body?” Scooter nodded. “Then he tried to cover it up, saying that he meant Thomas had seen the body.” I turned back to Thomas. “You told Jim about it, didn’t you?”

  “Uh-huh. We fought about it. He thought I should go to the police, but I…” His voice trailed off.

  Anabel squeezed his hand. “You were trying to protect your cousin. She was family. We get it.”

  Scooter held up his glass. “Let’s make a toast. To Victoria. May she rest in peace.”

  * * *

  A couple of days after Olivia’s arrest at the Tipsy Pirate, Scooter, Mrs. Moto, and I were standing on the marina patio chatting with Penny when Nancy stuck her head out of the office door. “You have a package in here,” she barked. “It’s been sitting here for over five days. If it isn’t claimed by the end of the day, it’s going in the dumpster as per Section 27(d).”

  I rolled my eyes and handed the calico to Scooter. “I better go get it.”

  When I walked into the office, Nancy was on the phone explaining to someone how electricity was metered at the docks. On the other side of the room, Melvin was tacking something up on the bulletin board. When he saw me, he handed me a flier. “Check out this contest we’re running at the Marine Emporium in conjunction with one of our suppliers.”

  My jaw dropped as I looked at it. “The first prize is a brand new dinghy and an outboard engine.”

  “You and Scooter should enter,” he said. “You seem to be one lucky gal. I don’t know anyone else who could get away with half the stuff you do. That guy almost killed you at the nature reserve.”

  “I know,” I said. “If it hadn’t been for that young family saving the day, I might not be here.”

  “Exactly,” Melvin said, tapping his finger on the flier. “Maybe your luck will extend to winning a dinghy and outboard.”

  “What’s this about almost getting killed, dear?” Nancy asked as she smacked her fly swatter on the counter.

  “Remember Chief Tyler’s henchman?”

  The older woman nodded.

  “Well, he sent one of them after me to keep me from nosing into his business.”

  “But he didn’t have anything to do with Gregor and Victoria’s murders,” she said.

  I shook my head. “No, he was worried that I knew too much about potting soil.”

  “You never struck me as being someone who had a green thumb,” Nancy said.

  “I don’t. But Michael, the guy who owns Warlock’s Manor, is a master gardener. Apparently, they have an annual flower competition on Destiny Key. Michael always wins, which makes Chief Tyler’s wife livid. She told him to do something about it, in no uncertain terms.”

  “That seems a bit extreme to have sent someone kill you over a flower competition,” Melvin said.

  “I know,” I said. “But everyone keeps telling me what a strange place Destiny Key is.”

  “Aren’t you worried that he’s still going to come after you?” the older man asked.

  “No. It turns out that some of the more powerful residents of Destiny Key are no long enamored with Chief Tyler. They feel that he’s drawing too much attention to the island and interacting too much with folks from the mainland. Apparently, he’s been ‘taken care of.’ And before you ask, I’m not sure what that means, but I’ve been assured that he won’t be bothering me or anyone else again.”

  “How do you know all this?” Nancy asked.

  “Thomas spoke to Michael yesterday to catch him up on everything that happened while he was in Europe.” I leaned forward on the counter. “Anyway, we saw Chief Tyler stealing some sacks from Michael’s garden shed and putting them in his vehicle. Turns out it was magic potting soil.”

  “Magic soil,” Nancy scoffed. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”

  “I just know what Thomas told me. It’s one part mushroom compost, one part peat moss, one part pine bark, and one part magic pixie dust.” I smiled as I recalle
d the glitter I had seen when the potting soil spilled out in our dinghy. “Purple magic pixie dust,” I added.

  “He’s pulling your leg, dear. There’s no such thing as pixie dust.” She reached under the counter and pulled out a cardboard box. After I signed and initialed a four-page release form, she handed the package to me.

  When I walked back outside, I saw Mrs. Moto sprawled on a table, purring loudly while Penny scratched her belly. “What did you get?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t order anything,” I said. “It’s addressed to Scooter.”

  I set the box on the table and started to tear it open. Scooter grabbed it away from me. “Hey, that doesn’t have your name on it.”

  “I thought we didn’t have any secrets between us,” I said with a smile.

  “It’s a surprise. You can open it on your birthday.”

  “But that’s not for ages. I can’t wait that long.” I pointed at the cat, who was using her claws and teeth to rip the tape. “I don’t think Mrs. Moto can either.”

  Scooter grinned. “All right. Go on and open it.”

  “There’s t-shirts in here,” I said once I got the box open.

  He pulled out a large navy blue shirt and held it up against his chest. “This one is for me.”

  “What does that say?” Penny asked as she leaned forward. “I’m not in charge. Ask the admiral,” she read out loud. “That’s funny. I see there’s an arrow pointing to the right. I bet you have one in here for Mollie that says she’s the admiral. When you stand next to her, your t-shirt points at her.”

  “Not exactly,” Scooter said, handing me a woman’s version of the t-shirt.

  “It says the same thing—‘I’m not in charge. Ask the admiral.’ But my arrow’s pointing to the left,” I said.

  “Ta-da,” Scooter said as he pulled out a tiny t-shirt. He picked up Mrs. Moto, pulled it over her head and front paws. Then he held her up. “See, it says, ‘Ask me. I’m the admiral.’”

  The calico meowed loudly.

  “I think she likes it,” Penny said.

  “Yep,” I said. “But we’re going to have to make sure being an admiral doesn’t go to her head. First YouTube, then commanding a ship.” I scratched Mrs. Moto behind the ears. “What’s next for you, kitty-cat? World domination?”

  She replied by hacking up a hairball on the table.

  Penny burst out laughing. “The admiral has spoken.”

  Scooter put his arm around me and kissed my forehead. “Happy early birthday,” he said. “I hope you like your present.”

  “I love it,” I said. “I think they’ll be the perfect crew shirts for all of us to wear when we go sailing to the Bahamas.”

  Scooter pulled back and looked me in the eye. “The Bahamas? Did I hear that right?”

  “Yep. What do you say? Should we head off to the Bahamas after Christmas?” I held up my hand. “I’m not saying we’re going to sail around the world, just the Bahamas. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he said, shaking my hand before picking up Mrs. Moto and whispering in her ear. “Did you hear that? We’re going to the Bahamas!”

  * * *

  Thanks for reading Dead in the Dinghy! I hope you enjoyed it. If you want to find out what happens next with Mollie, check out the latest book in the series - Shooting by the Sea. You can find a sneak peek of Shooting by the Sea at the end of this book. Spoiler alert - you’ll be humming Elvis tunes after you’re done reading!

  Grab a copy at your favorite retailer at books2read.com/sea.

  For updates from me about my current projects, new releases, sales and promotions, and other fun stuff, you can sign up for my newsletter at ellenjacobsonauthor.com/newsletter

  Mollie’s Sailing Tips

  I asked Mollie if she wouldn’t mind sharing some thoughts on the name of her boat and what would be involved if she and Scooter decided to rename her. Here’s what she had to say.

  HOW TO RENAME YOUR BOAT

  When Scooter presented me with a sailboat named Marjorie Jane for our tenth wedding anniversary, let’s just say that I didn’t exactly jump for joy. It wasn’t the diamond necklace I had been hoping for. But over time, she’s grown on me. Part of that has to do with the fact that I’ve learned how to sail and love it. The other part of it is because I’ve invested a lot of sweat, time, money, and tears into fixing her up. When you’ve invested so much of yourself into a project, you either end up loving it or hating it. While I wouldn’t say that I love Marjorie Jane—at least not out loud—I would say that I’m fond of her.

  But what I’m still not crazy about is her name. Marjorie and Jane are perfectly fine names. I know people with those names and they’re really nice ladies. But it’s not the name I would have chosen. Scooter and I have been discussing whether or not we should rename her. We’re having a little bit of a debate about what to call her. I’m partial to Millennium Falcon, Battlestar Galactica, Enterprise, or Firefly. Scooter wants to go with something a little less exciting like Freedom, North Star, or Endless Summer. Mrs. Moto has also chimed in with her suggestions—Cat’s Meow, Cat Tales, or her personal favorite, Admiral Moto.

  We’re still not sure whether we will rename our boat or not, or if we can even agree on a name, but in the meantime, I’ve been researching how you go about it.

  Turns out that there’s a ceremony you need to go through to ensure that you don’t have bad luck. Sailors can be a pretty superstitious bunch. It actually sounds like a lot of fun because you basically throw a party, and who doesn’t love a good party?

  * * *

  Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea, keeps a book (the Ledger of the Deep) with the names of all the boats in the world. He’s one of those gods you don’t want to cross. Go ahead and rename your boat without consulting him and bad things will happen. Your boat could be swallowed up the sea, you could have a fire down below, you could collide with another boat, or someone could be injured.

  You need to consider the best day of the week for the renaming ceremony. Fridays are generally considered to be bad luck by sailors and Thursdays are often avoided because that’s Thor’s day and you don’t want to mess with the Norse god of storms and thunder.

  Step 1 – Call upon Poseidon to give your boat his blessing.

  Step 2 – Offer thanks to Poseidon for protecting your boat in the past.

  Step 3 – Remove all vestiges of your boat’s old name.

  Step 4 – Pour wine, champagne, or sparkling cider in the water from east to west.

  Step 5 – Rededicate your boat with her new name to Poseidon by laying a branch of green leaves at the bow and breaking a bottle of wine, champagne, or sparkling cider across the bow. Say, “I name this ship _______, and may she bring fair wind and good fortune to all who sail on her.”

  Step 6 – Share the rest of the wine, champagne, or sparkling cider with your guests while standing at the bow of your boat.

  Step 7 – Take everyone out for a maiden sail knowing that the god of the sea is looking out for you. Be sure to stop by Penelope’s Sugar Shack first and pick up some brownies and cookies to feed your guests.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you so much for reading my book! If you enjoyed it, I’d be grateful if you would consider leaving a short review on the site where you purchased it. Reviews help other readers find my books and encourage me to keep writing.

  My experiences buying my first sailboat with my husband in New Zealand (followed by our second sailboat in the States), learning how to sail, and living aboard our boats inspired me to write the Mollie McGhie Sailing Mysteries. You might say that there’s a little bit of Mollie in me.

  One of the things I like about being a writer is weaving in my own experiences into my books. You may have noticed the references to hurricanes throughout Dead in the Dinghy. Living on a sailboat in Florida means that we’re always keeping an eye out on the weather, especially during hurricane season.

  While I was writing Dead in the Dinghy, Hurricane Dorian was barreli
ng through the Bahamas. We have many happy memories of our time sailing in these beautiful islands and it was absolutely awful to see the devastation that Dorian brought to this wonderful country and its people. Having Melvin refer to his past experiences losing loved ones to hurricanes was a nod to this tragic event.

  I want to thank my husband, Scott Jacobson, and my good friends, Duwan Dunn and Greg Sifford, for reading earlier drafts and providing insightful and thoughtful feedback, as well as for their unfailing support and encouragement. Many thanks as well to my editor, Beth Balmanno of By the Book, who was a pleasure to work with on this project.

  If you would like updates on new releases, my current projects, sales and promotions, and other fun stuff, you can sign up for my newsletter at ellenjacobsonauthor.com/newsletter

  About the Author

  Ellen Jacobson is a chocolate obsessed cat lover who writes cozy mysteries and romantic comedies. After living on a sailboat for many years, she now travels around in a teeny-tiny camper with her husband and an imaginary cat named Simon.