Bodies in the Boatyard

by Ellen Jacobson

  “Humph. Store-bought brownies again?” Nancy asked, noticing the distinctive purple box from Penelope’s Sugar Shack I was holding. She shook her head and gave me one of her patent-pending tsk-tsk sounds. “You have crumbs on your shirt, dear.”

  I looked down at my top and saw a chocolate chip precariously balanced on my collar. If there hadn’t been any witnesses, I probably would have plucked it off and popped it into my mouth. No point wasting perfectly good chocolate.

  Nancy interrupted my thoughts about how to discreetly rescue the chocolate morsel. “How many brownies did you eat on the way to the marina this time?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, brushing the crumbs off my shirt and saying a silent farewell to the chocolate chip as it fell to the ground.

  “Last week, Penelope told me you bought two dozen brownies. When I opened the box, there were only twenty inside. That means four were unaccounted for.”

  “Wow, you’ve got some impressive math skills, Nancy. Must come in handy when you’re counting up all the quarters from the washing machines and dryers.” I gave her an appraising look. “How do I know you didn’t make off with the missing brownies? Everyone knows how much you love chocolate.”

  “Don’t change the subject, dear,” she said. As I started to place the box on the table, Nancy pointed at the bowls of pasta salad, coleslaw, and baked beans. “You know the rules. Only side dishes on this table. Desserts go over there. We wouldn’t want cross-contamination, would we?”

  “As much as I hate to say it, Nancy, I’m on the same page as you when it comes to this. Brownies and vegetables don’t go together.”

  As I put the box on the appropriate table, Nancy said, “For someone who’s always bragging about her homemade quadruple-chocolate brownies, you never seem to bring any.”

  “I just haven’t had time to bake lately,” I said. “I’ve been so busy with work since I’ve been promoted to investigative reporter.”

  “Ooh, did I hear that right? Are you really a reporter?” Leilani asked as she gingerly set a colorful straw tote bag down at the end of the table.

  “It’s not what you think, dear,” Nancy said. “She doesn’t work for a TV station or newspaper. It’s with some strange organization. What’s it called again, FLAKEOUT?”

  I sighed. Although I had become used to people making fun of my career, sometimes their derision was hard to take. “No, it’s FAROUT—the Federation for Alien Research, Outreach, and UFO Tracking.”

  Leilani’s eyes lit up. “That sounds fascinating. What kinds of things do you investigate?”

  Nancy rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you two talk about that somewhere else? I need to get everything organized.” She pointed at Leilani’s bag. “I assume this is for the potluck?”

  Leilani nodded and tried to unzip it with her bruised left hand. “Here, let me,” Nancy said. She opened the bag, pulled out a large plastic container, and placed it next to the coleslaw. “How did you manage to carry this down here with just one arm? Why didn’t that husband of yours help?” She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what’s with your generation. No sense of chivalry.”

  Leilani looked down at her cast. “He offered, but I told him I could manage.” She pointed over in the direction of the barbecue. “Besides, he’s busy helping Ned with the grill.” She smiled. “Your hubby is such a sweetheart. I saw him doting on Mrs. Moto earlier. That’s something he has in common with Ken—they’re both animal lovers.”

  Nancy pursed her lips. “Well, if Ned knew what was good for him, he’d spend less time with mangy creatures like that cat and more time concentrating on the marina. He was ten minutes late getting the grill set up.”

  “Relax, Nancy. No one will mind. We’re all here to have a good time,” I said. “Besides, it’s not like there’s a firm schedule for these types of things.”

  “Of course there is.” She pulled a small notepad out of the pocket of her neatly pressed Bermuda shorts. “According to this, I’m five minutes behind getting the buffet table set up. Now shoo, and let me get on with it.”

  Leilani and I managed to keep from bursting out laughing until we were out of earshot. After we stopped giggling, she said, “Now, tell me all about your job.”

  “I investigate UFO sightings, alien encounters, that sort of thing. You know, we actually had a case of alien abduction here at the marina when we first bought Marjorie Jane.”

  Leilani’s eyes lit up. “I heard about that. Wasn’t that all part of the mur—”

  I spied Scooter from the corner of my eye and interrupted before she could utter the word “murder.” My husband gets a little squeamish when it comes to stuff like this. Even the mere mention of homicides, blood, or corpses can drive him headlong into a bag of chocolate.

  “Yes, that’s the one. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to prove definitively that the abduction took place. I’m also in charge of community outreach.” I swallowed. “I actually have to give my first public lecture next week. I’m so nervous. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  Leilani smiled. “You seem so confident to me. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

  Scooter came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. “What will you be great at?” he asked.

  “My talk next week.”

  “Of course you’ll be great. You’ve been practicing for days. I only wish I didn’t have that conference call scheduled so I could go.”

  “I wish you could come too,” I said. “I could use the moral support.”

  “I’ll go,” Leilani offered.

  “Perfect. Now you’ll have a friendly face in the audience.” Scooter pointed at a table. “Come over and join us. Penny is telling me stories about sailing in bad weather, and Alejandra seems to be…well…wishing she weren’t the center of attention. She might need our help to change the topic of conversation.”

  We had become fond of Alejandra Lopez during our time in Coconut Cove. Not only was the young woman our favorite waitress at the Sailor’s Corner Cafe but she had also been sharing family recipes with us and giving us cooking tips.

  As we walked over to the table, Leilani told me about her job as a virtual assistant. Although the thought of answering emails, updating spreadsheets, and scheduling appointments didn’t sound all that appealing, I did like the fact that she didn’t have to change out of her pajamas to start work. All she needed was her laptop and an internet connection.

  When we got to the table, I saw that Alejandra was surrounded by three young men—Darren was sitting to her right, Liam to her left, and Ben was standing behind her. I noticed that the wannabe pirate had taken my advice and traded in his “booty” T-shirt for one that featured two cute dolphins diving through the water. What girl could resist dolphins?

  Liam was leaning back in his chair, his sunburned arms folded behind his head. “Maybe you could teach Ben a thing or two about manicures,” he said to Alejandra. “Just look at all that grease on his hands.”

  “I work for a living, that’s why they’re greasy,” Ben said gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  Liam pulled out his wallet and waved a wad of cash at Ben smugly. “I work for a living too, and I make a lot more money than you do. You haven’t changed at all since high school. Still scrounging around, trying to make ends meet.” He glanced over at Alejandra, then back at Ben. “And you don’t have a clue how to dress to impress the ladies.”

  Ben’s shoulders slumped. He looked down at his shirt, then walked to the other side of the table and sat next to Scooter.

  Alejandra gave him a smile. “I think you look great, Ben. Did I ever tell you that dolphins are my favorite animal?”

  Ben perked up, but before he could respond, Liam leaned in close to Alejandra. “Did you see my new car? How about you and I take her out for a spin after dinner and go for a moonlight stroll on the beach at Treasure Cove?”

  She pulled back. “Sorry, I can’t. I told Ned and Nancy I’d help them clea
n up after the barbecue.”

  “They don’t need your help. Look at them.” He pointed at Ned, who was taking hamburgers off the grill and placing them on a big platter that Nancy was holding. “They’ve got it all under control.”

  “Leave the girl alone,” Darren said, pushing his dreadlocks off his face. “She’s not interested.” He pulled his chair closer to hers. “I’ll stay and help you clean up.”

  Alejandra shrugged. “Sure, I guess. The more the merrier.”

  He beamed. “Great. Then you’ll be done quicker, and afterward we can go out for a stroll.”

  “Hey, if she’s going out with anyone, it’ll be with me, not you,” Liam said.

  Alejandra placed her cup on the table. “Stop it! I’m not going out with any of you.” She looked firmly at the squabbling duo. “It was bad enough having to put up with you two fighting over me in high school. Aren’t you guys ever going to grow up?”

  Darren pushed back his chair. He pointed angrily at Liam. “See what you did? We were having a perfectly friendly conversation until you got involved.”

  Liam rose and advanced toward Darren. “Want to see friendly? What do you say we head down to the beach and talk about this man to man?”

  As the two of them lunged toward each other, Scooter pulled Darren back. Ben did the same with the other young man.

  “Hey, what’s going on here?” Norm strode over to the table. “What did I tell you about getting into fights, Liam? It’s bad for business.” He gestured at the far side of the patio. “I’ve got some potential customers lined up over there. What are they going to think if they see their charter boat captain punching some guy’s lights out?”

  “But—” Liam started to say.

  “I don’t want to hear your buts. Now, the hamburgers are done,” Norm said. “I suggest you go over there, fix yourself a plate, and eat it as far away from here as possible.”

  Liam looked down at the ground and muttered something. “What was that?” Norm asked.

  “Nothing,” he spat out, and stormed over to the grill.

  Norm turned to Darren. “And you. I should have known you’d be involved. You’re as bad as your uncle.”

  “Leave my uncle out of this!”

  “Tell that old man to head back to the Bahamas. Things were a lot more peaceful here when he wasn’t around.”

  “Seriously, after all that he’s been through, how can you say something like that?” Darren asked, his voice dripping with venom. He grabbed his soda can from the table. “I seem to have lost my appetite.” He turned to Alejandra. “Sorry about what happened. I’ll make it up to you later.”

  She nodded. Ben sat down in the chair next to her. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You know how guys get when there’s a pretty girl involved.” He reached behind his head and tightened his ponytail. Then he stared at his hands. “Do you really mind the grease? I scrub them after work, but I just can’t seem to get it off completely.”

  Alejandra gave him a gentle smile. “They’re fine, Ben. You work hard. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Ben brightened up. “Cool. Now that they’re gone, what do you say to heading over to the Tipsy Pirate later?”

  Alejandra shook her head. “Sorry, Ben. Like I said, I’m not really interested in dating anyone at this time. I’ve got too much going on with waitressing, my business classes, and trying to get my nail salon off the ground.”

  “How’s that going?” I asked.

  “Really well,” she said, seeming relieved to be talking about something other than her love life. “I’m looking into the licensing requirements and checking out a few potential sites in town. It’ll be a while yet before I can quit waitressing, but one of these days.”

  “You’ll do it, sugar,” Penny said. “You’re determined, hardworking, and smart. Look at me. I’m only in my thirties and I run two businesses now—the sailing school and the boat brokerage. No reason you can’t do the same. I bet in ten years’ time you’ll own half the town.”

  “Well, I’m not too sure about that. Norm seems to own half the town. I’m surprised he hasn’t run for mayor yet.”

  “Thank goodness he hasn’t,” Penny said. “I’m not sure Coconut Cove could cope with his style of leadership.”

  * * *

  “Here, kitty, kitty,” I called out as we neared the boatyard. “I wonder where she got to,” I said to Scooter. “She must be starving. She didn’t stick around the patio long enough to get her usual handouts from people.”

  “Well, with all that commotion going on with the guys fighting, you really can’t blame her. It’s much more peaceful back here.”

  The place was deserted. Although a few people lived in the boatyard while they were working on their boats, like Ken and Leilani, Ben had told me that most of the boat owners were locals who went home each night.

  We picked our way through the yard, walking around piles of wood, metal jack stands, toolboxes, and a couple of dinghies.

  I saw lightning out of the corner of my eye. A few seconds later, a large clap of thunder startled me. As we neared the section where our boat, Norm’s boat, and the Chois’ boat were located, the overhead lights flickered, then went out.

  “Looks like a power outage,” I said.

  I heard a crashing noise, followed by the sounds of someone in pain.

  “Scooter, was that you?”

  “Yes, I tripped over something.”

  I retraced my steps. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Here, help me up,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “I’m not so sure you’re fine. You’re favoring your right leg.”

  “It’s okay. I twisted my ankle a little bit. Just need to walk it off.” I watched him hobble in the direction of our boat.

  “I guess you won’t be playing basketball with the guys this week,” I said.

  “Stop worrying. It’s nothing.” He glanced up at the sky. “Come on, let’s find that cat and get out of here before it starts pouring.”

  I got a flashlight out of my purse and illuminated our path. When we got to Marjorie Jane, the light caught a pair of green eyes staring down at us from the deck. The feline yawned, then stretched her front paws in front of her lazily.

  “Are you ready to go home?” I asked.

  Scooter climbed partway up the ladder, wincing in pain, and lifted her down to me. “I’m just going to gather a few things off the boat. Why don’t you get her ready to go?”

  As I tried to hold on to Mrs. Moto while digging in my bag for her harness and leash, a lizard dashed in front of me. The cat squirmed and jumped out of my arms. I sighed as she ran under the boat in pursuit and then into the wooded area at the back of the boatyard.

  “Why do you always have to chase things?” I yelled after her. “Just leave that poor lizard alone. It won’t be nearly as tasty as one of the cans of Frisky Feline’s gourmet delicacies I have waiting for you back at home. Just think, tasty morsels of fish in a savory cream sauce. Sure, it smells disgusting, but the label promises a rich, hearty taste you can’t resist.”

  No response. Maybe I shouldn’t have added in that part about how it stunk. I walked carefully toward the edge of the wooded area. I heard a rustling sound to my right. When I pointed my flashlight in that direction, I saw a large object covered in a blue tarp with an overturned paint can lying beside it. Mrs. Moto stood with her back arched next to it, hissing loudly.

  “Did that lizard fight back?” I asked her.

  She nudged the tarp with one of her paws and yowled.

  “What is it, kitty?” I pulled back the tarp, expecting to see a lizard. Instead, I saw Darren, his dreadlocks covered in a mixture of blood and paint. It didn’t look like he would be going on any moonlight strolls with a pretty girl on the beach ever again.

  4

  THE MOST ANNOYING EYEBROWS EVER

  “Where is she?” I asked impatiently. “She said she would be here at nine and it�
��s already nine thirty.”

  “Stop pacing, my little panda bear. She’ll be here when she gets here. Why don’t I make you another mocha while we wait?”

  “Fine,” I snapped. “I don’t even know why she’s coming, anyway. I never agreed to sell the cottage and move onto Marjorie Jane.”

  “I told you, I tried to cancel, but she didn’t answer her phone, and for some reason it didn’t go to voicemail.” He ruffled my hair. “You look like you could use some extra chocolate in this one.”

  I nodded and passed my mug to him. “Sorry I bit your head off. I didn’t sleep well. I kept having nightmares about finding Darren underneath that tarp. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I also had dreams about cans of paint flying around trying to knock me off the boat.”

  “Flying paint cans?” Scooter asked as he turned the espresso machine on.

  I shuddered. “Like those flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. They always creeped me out when I was a child.” I sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter.

  “That does sound bad.” Scooter foamed up some milk. “You want full-fat milk, right?”

  “Is there any other kind?” I asked.

  “Not according to Mrs. Moto. She turns up her nose when I try to give her skim,” Scooter said. “We’re lucky she can tolerate milk, unlike most cats. Can you imagine if we had to tell her no? We’d have to wear earplugs because she’d scream so much.”

  “Remember when we told her to stop sharpening her claws on the couch?” I asked.

  Scooter sighed. “Yep. That’s when she added the armchair to her list of feline-approved scratching posts.”

  I inhaled the smell of coffee and chocolate as Scooter placed my mug on the counter. But even the tantalizing aroma couldn’t help me forget my nightmare. “At least the paint cans didn’t have bushy eyebrows like Chief Dalton. I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep again if I had a dream about those. I wonder if there’s some sort of class about how to read eyebrows. If he ever lost the power of speech, he could communicate solely with them, like some sort of sign language.”