by K. E. Warner
“Sea air.” He smiled.
“What? Sea air, what?”
“Smells good and makes you hungry.”
“You love the ocean, don’t you? It seems to give you a unique energy. You look happy – maybe content.”
“My dad was in the navy. It was an exciting thing to hear where he’d been, his adventures all over the world. When he was home, we’d go fishing and there was no other time I was ever so happy. Once mom died, he left the navy to stay with me, but we didn’t go fishing often. He was busy trying to make a life for himself.”
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. One glance and he shoved it back in his pocket with more force than necessary. He stared out to open ocean.
Magda sensed a shift in his mood and tried to change the subject. “Hey. Boats have names, don’t they? What’s this one called?”
“Ah. Important question – guess that’ll teach me for inviting a hard-hitting investigative reporter out here with me. You didn’t see as we came aboard?”
She shook her head, a little embarrassed at her lack of observation.
“Okay, well, boat naming is an important tradition. It began about a thousand years ago when sailors named their boats after gods or goddesses, hoping to curry favour with them. Give your boat the wrong name and you risk being stranded at sea, or thrashed upon the rocks of a cape. As the tradition strengthened, people named their boats after saints, or monarchs, or lovers. It still comes with quite a ceremony, where dignitaries christen the boat with wine or champagne.”
“And so, what’s her name?”
“Well, I got her name from history. The Dutch word for beak, a reference to the sharp bow of a vessel, is ‘snauw’, which became snow.”
Magda turned and narrowed her eyes at him. Her stomach fluttered as she anticipated his next words.
“A ‘snow’ was a three-masted ship used for coastal patrols, trading, and privateering. She doesn’t have masts but I’m attached to the concept, so I called her Snowflake. A small bit of snow.”
Magda thought about the keyring. The one she intended to give to Raheem tonight if she didn’t have time to stop at the detachment before dinner. Those keys must be Chris’ boat keys, but why were they discovered near where they found Brian Belcher’s body?
“You’re too quiet. Did that story put you to sleep? I’m proud of that name.”
Magda gagged out her next words. “No, oh no. Not asleep. I was just thinking about seeing pictures of when the Duchess of Cambridge, Kate Middleton, christened a ship. I think it was called the Royal Princess. There must be a lot of thought going into naming. I mean a name is important. It’s a terrific name you came up with.” Her words sounded like babble to her ears and she couldn’t look at him, but sensed his eyes boring through her.
“Something’s up. I have a good intuition about people. What’s bugging you?”
“Nothing. Just realizing I have to get back soon. Meeting a friend for dinner.”
“Not that cop, I hope.” Her glare must have confirmed it for him. “Well, say hello to him for me.”
Without speaking, she helped him pull up the anchor, then packed the picnic basket and stored it back in the hull.
The ride home was quiet and as they cruised into the marina, he turned to her.
“Listen, Magda, I hope you enjoyed the day. I enjoyed your company. I’d like to call you, if you don’t mind. We’ll set something up for paddleboarding when my arm feels better?” He pulled out his phone, turning it on so they could exchange numbers. She could hear it buzzing with messages as he said, “I don’t need a ride back. Just going to stay on board for a bit.”
She pasted a smile on her face. “Thank you so much, Chris. I had fun – and I appreciate you letting me drive for a bit.” She pointed at the phone, still buzzing in his hand. “That phone will explode. You’re popular, aren’t you?”
She didn’t know if she would ever hear from him again, or if she wanted to, and she was certain she wouldn’t have reason to call him, but they exchanged numbers.
They didn’t speak again as they entered the marina and arrived at his berth. As they docked, she noticed a man a few stalls down, his chin buried in a windbreaker, his eyes covered in mirrored sunglasses. He walked over, took the rope from Chris, and secured the boat. Chris reached over and set the picnic basket on the dock before nodding at Magda.
Once on dry land, she headed down the dock and turned to wave at Chris. He wasn’t watching. Instead, he looked like a cartoon character gesticulating at the man. She watched his face contort and tried to keep from sprinting to the car to check on the keys in her glovebox.
Chapter twenty-four
Magda’s cell phone rang just as she reached her apartment.
“Hey there! Still on for dinner, I hope.”
Although exhausted, Magda craved the stable, predictable comfort of Raheem rather than being alone. “I’m looking forward to it. Seven o’clock? How does the Aqua Blue Angus sound? My treat.”
“I won’t say no to that deal. I’ll call them and see if I can talk my way into a reservation. I’ll text if it doesn’t work. See you soon.”
As she showered, she contemplated the afternoon. Chris was an enigma. She couldn’t reconcile why he intrigued her. On the one hand, he was curt, and bordered on rude, reckless, irresponsible, and selfish. On the other hand, he could be a gentleman, he was patient and attentive, and he had a pride of ownership of his boat.
But, if he cared so much for his boat, how could he lose the keys?
The thought refocused her attention on the keys attached to the snowflake. They must be his. She should have asked. She should have shown him. But what if they were evidence? She couldn’t just hand them over to him. Those keys may link him to Brian’s murder.
Murder? Was Chris capable of murder? She thought back to the events last fall and realized, yes, anyone is capable of murder. Not anyone would commit a murder, but anyone could commit one.
And what about his black eye? And whatever was wrong with his arm? He was a fighter, that was clear. As a journalist, and more generally as a friend, she tried hard to observe without judgment. That was tough with Chris.
She looked forward to seeing Raheem, wondering if she should share her thoughts. Pulling on leggings and a black cotton sweater, she tried some deep breathing, aware that Raheem, like Chris, could pick up on her discomfort. They were alike in that way. Also, both were intelligent and had a gentleness that didn’t always come naturally to the men she knew. She was also sensitive to the fact both men appreciated her company; perhaps it was the reason the two didn’t get along.
When Raheem arrived to pick her up, he looked like a man on a mission. Dressed in a grey shirt and black blazer with dark grey pants, his hair combed back to frame his face, he handed Magda a box that couldn’t contain the sweet scent of roses.
“Thank-you, Raheem. Red or white?”
“Both.” His face light up as she opened the box and inhaled.
“Come in while I put these in water. What time is the reservation?”
“Seven-fifteen. We have a few minutes.” He stepped inside and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter while she pulled out a crystal vase, filled it with water, and added a teaspoon of sugar. He grinned like a lovestruck teen as she sliced the ends from the roses and placed them in the vase, as if each stem had a pre-ordained spot. When she finished, the effect looked like a rose candy cane.
“Beautiful.” He wasn’t looking at the flowers.
Magda ignored the compliment, but blushed and placed the vase on the dining table. “Okay, done. Let’s go.”
He followed her to the door and froze as he walked by the darkened living room. She looked to see what caught his eye and saw the snowflake emitting a fluorescent white-green aura. She hadn’t realized it would glow. Raheem’s forehead wrinkled as he stepped into the living room towards the end table.
“What’s this fancy thing for? Wouldn’t take you to be the type to have a large glow-in-the-d
ark fluorescent key-chain.” He picked it up. “Bet it even floats. Oh. They’re boat keys.”
In that second, Magda decided she couldn’t tell Raheem everything, not yet, so she modified the story. “Elaine found them on the beach. I think I know who owns them though, so I’ll return them.” She felt her stomach bubble up. A lie by omission. Well, maybe an outright lie as she didn’t intend on returning them. Not immediately.
Her answer must have satisfied him as he shrugged, setting them back down. She winced as she bit the inside of her lip, and he followed her to the door.
“Okay, great. I’m starving. I’ll probably order everything on the menu. Bring your wallet.” He grabbed her hand and winked, and they headed to the restaurant.
The evening was one of smiles and laughter. Magda relaxed with conversation topics focused on summer tourism, the spot prawn catch for the year, and whale sightings in front of the resort. They made their way through soup, steak, and shrimp skewers without a hitch.
“Dessert?” He held up both hands, fingers crossed.
“Berry crumble and vanilla ice cream?”
He nodded and laughed. “It's one of my favourite things about you Magda, your appetite.”
“Well, I think I’m more hungry than usual today.”
His eyebrows raised. “Oh?”
The evening had been so lovely, and she chose not to elaborate. “Just spent some time on the water today. I think being near the ocean, smelling that air makes me hungry.”
Raheem seemed to miss the nuance in her words and didn’t pursue it further. Unfortunately, he moved to a related topic.
“So, your new friend from The Buck spent the night in jail.”
The joy drained from her face and she gasped. “My new friend? Who would that be? Oh - from The Buck?” She forced an awkward chortle from her chest to hide her discomfort. “You mean Chris Ducharme. Is he my friend?”
“Well, I hope that’s the worst of it – that he’s your friend, I mean.”
Magda rolled her eyes at him, hoping her gesture was dismissive enough to make Raheem feel comfortable. She took a sip of water and asked, “What was he in jail for?”
“Put some biker in the hospital last night. But while he accomplished that dubious feat, a lead pipe broke the storefront of Moxy’s Clothing. Not sure how, but he was released without charges. I doubt the clothing store is happy about that. I think the owners want to see everyone involved charged. It was odd to see the guy get off.”
His stare burned her face, but her expression remained blank as he continued.
“It seems someone had him released, no questions asked.”
Magda pressed her lips together, unsure how much to respond. She had no intention of ruining the evening.
“Must be nice to have friends in influential places.” She was desperate to change the subject and hoped the spaghetti she was about to throw at Raheem’s mental wall would stick. “On another note, I spoke with Donna yesterday, and she doesn’t have any idea why Alice wanted to meet with Brian Belcher. Especially without Dave. She mentioned Dave doesn’t trust the man. Maybe he doesn’t like Brian because Alice does.”
“Well, I spoke with Anne Belcher again, and she came clean about talking to Alice. She said Alice was expecting to pick up a package from Brian, but claims not to know what it was. Still no sign of Dan Belcher either. I’m hoping he doesn’t wash up on a beach somewhere.”
He drummed his fingers on the table as the waiter set dessert between them. Magda shoveled scoops of ice cream in her mouth to fill the silence. His suggestion made her wonder if the keys had washed up on the beach, rather than being misplaced as she thought at first. They could have fallen from the boat.
Or been in someone’s pocket, she thought. “And in all of this, Sonja Bearns murder remains a mystery. Two murders within such proximity of time and place is an incredible coincidence.”
Magda shuddered and took a large bite of the crumble. She was taking an enormous gamble hanging on to those keys. As Raheem dug into the dessert, she considered it a sign. He wasn’t being more inquisitive, so she wouldn’t share any more information – for the time being. She would have to talk to Chris. At least to see if the keys belonged to him and where he may have lost them.
“It was a great night, Raheem. I’m glad we agreed to do this.” She wiped her lips with the napkin and placed it on the table. The tension between the two of them had diminished somewhat, but the last few minutes made Magda uncomfortable again.
Raheem looked at her, brown eyes drooping at the corners. “You’re ready to go?”
Smiling, she pulled out her wallet and looked around for the waiter. “I have an early morning. Do you mind if I just head home?”
“I hoped we could spend a little more time together. Maybe a walk on the boardwalk?”
“I would love that, but I’m really exhausted.”
All true, but her day wasn’t over yet. She had one more thing to do.
Chapter twenty-Five
Magda kicked off her shoes and poured a glass of wine before grabbing her cell phone. Tucked into the couch, she cradled the phone and scripted her words with care before dialing the number. It was late, but Chris would likely be up partying.
The ambient background noise of a bar droned with thumps of base and indiscernible chatter when he answered.
“Magda. What a lovely surprise.” Not quite slurred words, but definitely relaxed.
The sounds of clinking glasses, clicking billiard balls, and staccato laughter diminished as she imagined him stepping outside.
“Hi, Chris. Sorry to call so late. Hope I’m not taking you from something.” She modulated her voice attempting to sound carefree.
“Nope. Not at all, just didn’t expect to hear from you this evening. I’m at The Buck with friends. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I just realized a funny coincidence. I was out for dinner with friends yesterday, and one of them found a set of keys.”
Silence.
“I just wondered if you had lost any keys lately.”
“What makes you wonder that?” He sounded as if his tongue filled his mouth as the words tripped out.
“Oh, my friend described them to me.” She picked up the snowflake and the tingle of the keys on the end of the ring made her pause. “She mentioned the keyring had a large snowflake attached. The snowflake was white, but she thought it had a light green tinge. Like a glow-in-the-dark toy.”
The phone was quiet and she began a silent count, waiting for Chris to fill the void. She reached an uncomfortable nine before his next words.
“Where did she find these keys?”
He took the bait. If they were his, hearing about the keyring would be enough for him. Knowing where they were discovered wouldn’t help him recognize them. But if something else was going on, where the keys were found might be important.
“Somewhere in the sand. Near the sculptures. Are they yours? It struck me that a snowflake keychain would be appropriate for a boat named Snowflake.”
“Not mine. I guess it’s a common charm for a keyring, though. What friend did you say? I can ask around. Give me your friend’s address and I can share it if I find the owner.”
His voice had deepened and it scared her. The keys slipped from her hand hit the floor with a jangle. “I didn’t say which friend, but that’s okay. I think she’ll turn them in to the police. She may have already turned them in.” Magda wished she’d taken them to the detachment - or at least told Raheem the truth. “Chris I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll talk to you later this week.”
She hung up before he could extend the conversation. What to do now? She’d take them in to the detachment and Raheem would be furious when he found out. Tough luck for her, this was important. She’d swallow her pride and hand them over first thing in the morning.
She adjusted her pillow and put her head down. As she closed her eyes she was still trying to determine a course of action for the morning.
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Inky blackness greeted her when her eyes popped open. The only thing visible was the clock on the dresser as it flashed 3:03 in sickly neon green. She cocked her head to a sound coming from outside her room. It sounded as though a cat was trying to get into the apartment, its nails scraping a wall.
She flicked on the light. The noise stopped. Her ears strained against the silence for a few more moments. She flicked the light off, cuddling down into the blankets.
Ten minutes later she gave up trying to get back to sleep.
“I should get a cat,” she mused out loud before shuffling through the books on her nightstand. She pulled out the latest Gillian Flynn, and stumbled to the kitchen for a glass of water.