The Manatee Did It

by Kay Dew Shostak

  Besides, going back inside that house is not an option.

  I’m glad to be meeting my friends at Pavers as I’ve not been there yet. It’s off Centre Street, and while there is some indoor seating, mostly it’s known for its garden area. Pavers are those stones used in gardens and patios, and at the restaurant, mostly known for their crepes, they form a wide open patio interspersed with chairs, fire pits, and small gardens. I don’t know why we haven’t tried it except that there are so many restaurants here and so little time.

  Lights in the trees, music, and the smell of food draw me in.

  “Girl! You did come!” Annie shouts. She holds a hand out and up to me. “I’d get up and hug you, but this couch is just too low. Sit right there!”

  Annie’s natural exuberance has been lubricated by alcohol. She’s all smiles and bright eyes, along with being louder than usual. But she’s so charming, who cares? Annie has on leggings and a long, flowy, olive-colored shirt with tight arms and a low-cut front. She’s wearing a thick gold necklace with her usual collection of bracelets, and in the light from the fire pit in front of her, she looks like a queen. Sitting beside her is Ray Barnette. He has his arm tucked inside her elbow. On the side Annie directed me to, Lucy and another lady I don’t know are seated on two wide, cushioned chairs.

  Lucy jumps up from her seat to hug me. “Oh, Jewel, you just missed meeting Davis! He drove in from Atlanta today and was too exhausted to stay. But this is Aunt Jean. She’s been wanting to meet you!” Lucy and Jean resemble each other in that they are both petite and blonde. Lucy looks more like her aunt than her mother, Birdie, but they all look like family. Jean is obviously Birdie’s much younger sister.

  “So you’re Jewel Mantelle, new owner of the Mantelle Mansion,” Jean says as she looks me up and down. She pats the cushion of Lucy’s chair. “Come sit here. Lucy can move down now that Davis finally left and there’s no need to keep him behind her protective wall.”

  “Aunt Jean, be nice,” Lucy says with a swat at her aunt’s knee. However, she does move down to the chair I’m standing next to, which makes a place for me between her and her aunt.

  Annie practically heehaws as she wags a finger at Jean. “Your jealousy is showing, Jean. You know you’re too old for Davis.”

  “Pshaw, I’m only ten or so years older than my dear niece here. And for a piece of Davis Reynolds, I’d lie about my age.”

  “Like you don’t lie about your age already,” Lucy says with an eye roll. “Ignore her, Jewel. Why didn’t you come to Florida Friday? We had you a seat and everything.”

  “That seems like a million years ago,” I say. “I did come downtown, but then I ran into Officer Greyson—oh, yes.” As a waitress appears asking if I’d like a drink, I stop and look around. “Wine, I guess. White, pinot grigio?” She walks off, and I proceed to tell them all about what Greyson said. They frown and nod at the mention of Detective Johnson. I skip the part about Charlotte’s Peeping-Tom hallway at Bellington Manor Inn and move on to my conversation with Craig. I of course neglect to share the more intimate, and disappointing, parts.

  “Where is Craig?” Ray asks. “Why didn’t he come with you?”

  “He had some work to catch up on,” I say with a tight smile. Everyone catches the awkwardness, and Lucy pats my knee.

  Ray takes his arm from around Annie and leans forward. “You said he came clean, so I’m hoping he told you about the laptop.”

  “Yes, but who took it in the first place?” I ask.

  “Exactly! Ray won’t tell us!” Annie exclaims. “Says it’s personal and he promised not to tell.”

  Lucy shushes Annie, then turns to me. “He says it has nothing to do with the murder and that it was all a mistake.”

  “Just doing a favor for an old friend,” he says as he leans back and nods at the waitress bringing my drink. When she leaves, he speaks in a low voice. “Believe you me, this marina debacle is what caused Pierson Mantelle to lose his life.”

  Sitting my glass of wine on the table in front of me, I return his focus. “So, Mr. Barnette, are you still up for the marina job?”

  “Naw, whole thing can’t happen now. Not with everyone knowing everything. This kind of plan has to be kept quiet until things are figured out so the facts don’t get thrown out of proportion and such. You know how folks get. Plus, I’m not sure we could’ve controlled York like we wanted to. I’ve done some more studying on the marinas they’ve bought down south, and in a year or two the towns seem to lose all control. Part of my thinking was that I could control the growth, only do what was good for Sophia. I may sound and act like a good ol’ boy from the country, but I’m a lot smarter than I look.” He winks and reaches his arm around Annie to squeeze her. “I keep trying to convince this girl here she could do worse.”

  Annie giggles, and Jean mutters, “Oh my lord,” under her breath.

  “So who do you think benefitted the most from Pierson’s death? Or do you think it was someone acting in anger over the deal falling apart?” I ask so only our little group can hear.

  Jean clears her throat. “Well, look who just showed up.” Lucy’s aunt has lifted her head high, and in the firelight I can see her full head of hair is more gray than blonde.

  At a low table like ours, closer to the restaurant’s guitar player, a seated group is welcoming more guests who just arrived. The guests are the very people I’d watched earlier through a hidden spy hole in an old house. Heat floods my face even though no one here knows. I recognize Frank Bellingham, his wife, and Leigh Anne Mantelle in her short, white dress. The other woman with them has luxurious auburn hair, which catches flashes of the fire. Her black dress is conservative, in a wrap style that emphasizes her shape. She’s wearing very nice black high heels. Pumps with a red sole, I notice, as she takes a seat.

  “Who’s that? The one in the black dress.”

  “Saundra York, Pierson’s wife,” Ray says. “Guess her last name is Mantelle, but from what I know she never used it. I mean, if you’re a York, why not stay a York?” He looks at me. “No offense, Mrs. Mantelle.”

  “None taken. She sure is beautiful.”

  Annie exclaims, “Don’t that beat all!” She quickly looks from us and lowers her voice. “Don’t that beat all to have a wife what looks like that and you gotta have floozies on the side? I will never understand that. Never!”

  Jean smirks. “Doesn’t look to me like she’d be all that fun in the dark. I mean, once you turn off the lights, looks don’t matter.”

  Lucy rolls her eyes at her aunt as she stands up. “I haven’t offered my condolences, so I’m going to go do it right now, see if I can pick up any vibes from the widow and the bereaved mother. Law, that dress of Leigh Anne’s is clear up to her, well, you know what. Anyone else want to come?”

  Annie and Ray shake their heads and take another sip of their drinks. Jean considers, then says, “No, I’m mighty comfortable here. Besides, I need to talk to Jewel.”

  Lucy makes her way across the patio. She’s wearing high wedge sandals and a long, striped wrap shirt over dark leggings. She makes her way across, stopping to speak with virtually every table. “That niece of mine is a born politician,” Jean says. “So, Jewel, your house. Tell me about it. What do you plan to do with it? What kind of shape is it in? Can I come see it? Is it haunted?” She ends her barrage of questions with an intense stare.

  “Well, I don’t think it’s haunted, but then I don’t have a good feel for that kind of thing. It’s creaky and kind of noisy sometimes, but I assume that’s how all old houses are. As for plans, we don’t have any. It’s not in awful shape, but it sure is full of stuff. We don’t know enough to know if it’s good stuff or not. And, of course, you’re more than welcome to come see it. Hopefully Craig will get this whole murder thing behind us when he talks to Officer Greyson tomorrow.”

  Annie holds up her glass. “Let’s toast to that. However, we’re not really any closer to finding out who murdered Pierson. So much for being detectives.
Of course, Aiden says the police aren’t any further ahead either. That’s why Detective Johnson is coming back from vacation early.”

  I shift my focus to Annie’s beau. “Ray, when you were on the boat with Pierson, what happened? Did he say anything?”

  Ray shrugs. “Like I told the police, he was real disgruntled. Agitated. Didn’t say why exactly, except he couldn’t wait to get done here.”

  “Here?” I ask. “You mean his business that day?”

  The big man shakes his head and rubs his beard with the hand not wrapped around Annie. “No, he actually said he hated Sophia and that he wanted this whole thing to be over. He planned on never sailing his boat back to this island for the rest of his life. That turned me off real bad, as I think this is God’s favorite place on earth.”

  This shocks me. “What? But his wife wanted our house! That was the whole deal with Craig giving him the house for the condo and the job at the marina.”

  Ray tips up his glass to dislodge ice into his open mouth. As he crunches it he says, “If that’s all true, I guess I was never really in the running for the job. Maybe as a backup, or to grease the wheels since I am on the commission. That jackass sure played me.” He huffs and shakes his head. “Pardon the language, ladies.” Annie pats his knee.

  Jean flicks her hand at me. She taps my arm and with a shift of her eyes directs my attention across the patio to where Lucy stands next to Saundra York. That red-soled designer shoe shines like a beacon along with her big watch and jeweled fingers. Jean’s graveled voice matches her cynically arched eyebrow. “Really? She wants to live in your house?”

  “Well, that’s what Craig said Pierson told him.” With us still staring, Lucy turns and heads back to us.

  “I’m ready to go,” she says when she reaches our table. “Aunt Jean, you ready?”

  “Sure, but how are things over there?”

  Lucy sniffs, not in sadness I realize, but in anger. She shifts her hips and tips her head down to us. “It’s cold over there. Very cold. Asking about funeral details was as worthwhile as if I’d asked when the next high tide is. Scratch that, that’s general knowledge for folks here. I never met Pierson Mantelle, but I can’t help but feel sorry for him with two such, uh, well, women in his life. Let’s go.” She flips around and starts across the patio. This time she doesn’t acknowledge anyone; she’s just hell-bent on getting to her destination. Jean frowns at all of us, tells me she’ll talk to me soon, and then she hurries off after her niece.

  “Guess it’s time for me to go home, too,” Ray says as he pushes himself up to the edge of the couch. “Sure will be a long drive. Wish I had a place to stay right here on the island.” He waggles his eyebrows at Annie.

  She slaps his leg. “And a frog wishes it had wings so it wouldn’t bump its behind on the ground when it hops. Help me up out of this thing.”

  When we are all standing, I look around at the table. “I never paid my bill. Do we pay on the way out?”

  Ray winks at me. “I got it. Told the waitress to put it on my tab. I’ll settle up on the way out.” He waves away my thanks, then tries one more pass at Annie, which she rebuffs.

  She pushes his chest, but her hand lingers for a minute. “You go home. My car is toward Jewel’s house, so we’re going to go out this way and walk together.” He leans forward for a kiss, but she ignores him and points me toward a back gate.

  We step between the small bushes onto the sidewalk, and I nudge her. “He seems awful sweet on you.”

  “Yeah, and I like him, but, well, I’ve just never seen a man that don’t want to be king when he finally gets a queen. And I’m too old to deal with a king. But I don’t want to talk about all that.” We walk side by side away from Pavers, and as the sounds drop off, we turn into a small parking lot on our left. We step into deeper shadows, but with a push of a button, the interior of Annie’s car lights up. “Get in and I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I’m okay. It’s only a couple blocks. Not even a couple from here. I’m in no hurry.”

  Annie leans against the car. “You seem sad, honey. What’s going on?”

  I join her, leaning on her car with a sigh. “Nothing really. Craig and I are just not connecting. At least when he’s on the road I can pretend we do.” I try to laugh, but it comes out more like another sigh.

  Annie give me a lopsided smile. “Being married is tough. My husband and I were good together, but we always had the kids around so I don’t know how we’d have done without buffers or distractions. Not sure what it would’ve been like being together twenty-four seven.” She inhales. “That’s a lot of together.”

  “Talk about marriage being tough, what about Pierson and his wife?” I try to think of a way to mention what I heard through the bookcase at Bellington Manor. “Pierson’s wife sure doesn’t seem to be very broken up about her husband’s death. You know, I overheard her being quite flippant about it. Something like him getting himself killed caused a lot of problems.”

  Annie swings her head toward me. “Overheard? Where would you overhear something like that?”

  I only shrug, and Annie squints her eyes at me. “Aiden hasn’t mentioned them talking to the wife, but surely they did, right? It sounds like her family has a lot of clout, though. Maybe they were able to put off the police just like the girlfriend’s family.” She shakes her head. “Wonder what that group said to set Lucy off like that. She was downright mad. The whole thing doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  For a moment we look up through the long, graceful tree limbs draped in moss. Then I go back to our earlier conversation. “So Ray wouldn’t say who took the laptop? That’s just odd, isn’t it? Someone broke into our home and no one thinks anything of it? And, wait.” I turn to face her. “It was someone who knew about the window not locking. Who would know that?”

  “Oh yeah. I’d forgotten that,” she says. The light inside her car has gone out again, but our eyes have adjusted to the dim corner lot. The moon is still low in the sky, providing soft light. Annie crosses her arms, and her voice takes on a more determined tone. “One thing I know for sure is that I’m going to have to get better at taking notes to be a detective. There are too many things to remember and, don’t tell anyone, but my memory isn’t what it used to be.” She ends with a nudge of her elbow at me.

  On the sidewalk, we hear footsteps and look up to see Frank Bellington striding along in a hurry. Behind him, in no hurry but looking over her shoulder, comes his wife. Several paces behind her are Leigh Anne and her daughter-in-law, Saundra. Frank’s light green shirt stands out in the gloom, as does his wife’s light skirt and Leigh Anne’s dress. Frank turns the corner, obviously headed home. When his wife arrives at the corner she calls for him to slow down, but he ignores her. She beckons for the women behind her to hurry up. They don’t. She says something to them about having a drink before bed, then dashes ahead to catch up with her husband. Leigh Anne and Saundra make their way around the corner and head back to the manor house as well, though they take their own sweet time.

  Annie and I don’t speak until they are well out of sight, but then I stand up straight and step away from the car. “Have a good night, Annie. We’ll let you know how things go with Officer Greyson in the morning.” I am already halfway across the parking lot by the time Annie has once again clicked her key and lit her corner of the parking lot.

  If that crew in front of me is going to have a nightcap, I think I should be there to hear it.

  Chapter 29

  Sticking to the shadows, I follow the four toward Bellington Manor House. I cross the street before we get to the front entrance so that I am nowhere near the lamp post beside the sign for the inn. Their shoes on the wooden front steps seem loud in the stillness, but then again, I am listening extra hard. My flat sandals don’t make a sound as I scurry across the intersection and paste myself against the tall bushes where Charlotte and I walked earlier. I never imagined just how good a choice my navy dress would be for night prowling. I dart ins
ide the garden with just a glance to my right to make sure the lights in Charlotte’s cottage are out.

  The bugs and frogs in the garden stop talking with my incursion into their domain. I remember it happening earlier, too, so it doesn’t freak me out that much. Even so, the property seems way, way too quiet. I finally let out my breath when I reach the side door and clasp my hand around the old metal knob. Just the few weeks in our old, cantankerous house have taught me a fine appreciation for knowing hardware tricks.

  “And so,” I mutter under my breath as I attempt to open the door, “Charlotte pulled up and then twisted hard to the left to get around this lock.” But my hand still clasps a locked door. I try again. And again. Little variations on my pull and twist match small prayers for the nightcaps to extend into more than one. I’m sweating, and the perspiration makes it harder to twist the knob.

  Wiping my hand on my dress, I take a deep breath and blow it out with the words, “One more time.” This time, with me doing the exact same thing as the last dozen tries, the door swings open. I bustle in and close the door behind me. Down the little dark hall I hurry, remembering to check the kitchen before I cross the doorway. This time the kitchen lights are also out, so the laundry hallway before me is even darker. I’ve been here before, so it’s not as scary.

  Working so hard on the door makes me feel triumphant, so it’s not until I reach to lower the piece of wallpaper that I really think about what I’m doing—sneaking, or some might say breaking and entering—into a stranger’s house. But then I hear voices and, well, I am already here…

  Leigh Anne is sitting on the same couch as she was earlier, but this time she’s alone. On the opposite side of the room, in my full view, Saundra has kicked off her designer pumps and has her feet propped up on the ottoman in front of her chair. She holds a drink in her hand. I can’t see if the owners of the inn are in the room, but I get the feeling they are not.