by Dana Moss
“Someone slit his throat last night. Did you know that?”
He was lighting up his hand-rolled cigarette at that point, and he choked slightly, on the news or the smoke Taffy couldn’t be sure.
“I hear that’s a bad way to go. A little like drowning.”
Taffy was surprised at how he seemed to be taking this all in stride, and it made her suspicious.
“I know you didn’t stay at the hotel last night. Did you go back to the boat?”
He shook his head.
“Then where were you?
“I ain’t saying.” He leaned back against the bench and blew out a smoke ring.
Taffy pulled out her phone. It would be easier to just hand him over to Maria.
Then Einer added, “Because it ain’t proper to discuss in front of a lady. Such as yourself.”
Taffy paused before dialing. She waited for him to explain more. When he didn’t, she prompted him. “The police will insist you tell them where you were last night, otherwise you’re a suspect, too.”
He inhaled deeply on his cigarette. “I wasn’t on the boat last night.”
“Then where were you?”
“I used to be a navy man, Miss. I’ve got some old habits that are hard to dry up. I ain’t ashamed to admit it. Or maybe I am, since I don’t much want to. But when an old salt like me pulls into harbor, he’s got just one thing on his mind.”
“A good meal, a warm bed? Things looked pretty cushy on that boat. I’m sure you didn’t want for anything working with Blake.”
“Oh, he was a snake charmer all right. But it’s the old habit, see?”
“I don’t see. Tell me.”
He sighed, rested his hands on his knees, and then lifted one arm and pointed behind him down the street. “I went there last night.”
This street was full of businesses lodged in old houses at the edge of town and just a few blocks up from the commercial port.
“In one of those houses?” She turned back to him. “Which one? And why?”
One of his eyes opened wider and appraised her. “How long have you lived here?”
“About a year.”
He huffed. “I suppose you’d have no need to know of such things.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card. He handed it to her. On it, inscribed in flourishing script, was the name Mimi Townsend, with a byline that said, “At your sensual service. Massages and more. Discretion guaranteed.”
Einer nodded down at the card. “That’s where I was. I ain’t proud nor ashamed to admit it.” He sucked at his twisted tube of tobacco. “That there’s what used to be called a house of ill repute. There’s one in every port.”
Very little about Abandon surprised Taffy, but this did.
“And this… uh, Miss Townsend could confirm your… um, attendance last night?”
“I freely waive my discretion guarantee if it will help you solve what troubles you.”
Taffy looked back at the house Einer had pointed out. Then she tucked the card in her purse. Did Maria know about this place?
“It might not solve my trouble, but it might keep it from reaching you,” she said. “Do you mind answering a few of my questions?” If Einer really hadn’t been anywhere near the boat, Taffy was back to square one.
He shrugged. “If I can.”
“How long have you worked for Blake?”
“As long as he’s owned the Moonbeam. About 2 years and 3 months.”
“You came with the yacht, then?”
He nodded and started rolling a second cigarette. “Before that she belonged to an eccentric old chap. Name of Witty Snelldrive. Sold it to pay off some debts. Sold me, too, I guess.”
“You could leave if you wanted. Probably have to now.”
“The sea’s my home, and that boat’s my most recent wife. Until she tips me in the drink, I’m faithful.”
Taffy raised an eyebrow. “Apart from last night?”
“What happens in port, stays in port.” He put his fresh cigarette to his lips and then moved it away so he could lean over conspiratorially to say, “In case you didn’t know, there are some things boats can’t do for a fella.”
“Right. Well. You’ll have to talk to the police now. Either I can drop you off, or I can call them and they’ll pick you up.”
“Let me just finish this last puff, and I’ll go quietly with you.” He winked.
It didn’t look like he was going to run off on her so she sat with him and waited. And questioned.
“Were you aware of any bad blood between Blake and anyone else?”
Einer laughed again. “You met him. He had a knack for insulting people. Not sure if that would incite murderous revenge, but you might want to ask his wife.”
Wife?
“I didn’t know he was married.”
“Separated. Divorced by now, I guess. Never did see them happy together. Blake’s way with women didn’t seem to lead to long-term bliss. Your friend was starting to figure that out.”
“But you knew her? Blake’s wife?”
He shrugged. “He bought the boat while they were separating. I don’t make a point of really knowing anybody anymore. I could pick her out of a crowd is all.”
He stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and stretched his legs. “Just like I could pick you out of a crowd now. I don’t really know you, but I get a feeling about people. Blake and his ex? The rotten apples in the crate. You? The fresh, ripe one that’s just fallen from the tree. Like the one that hit Newton on his head.” He tapped his brow for emphasis.
It was some kind of compliment, so Taffy smiled. “You think I’ve got the potential to discover something akin to gravity?”
“My sense is you’ve got the stubbornness to discover something that gets overlooked by others.”
He glanced over at the curb. “Your land ship?”
She stood up, and they walked to her car together.
“Aren’t you even interested in what happened to your boss?”
He shrugged. “Moderately.”
“You’re not worried about a murderer being on the loose?”
“If I started worrying, I’d never stop.”
They got into the car. As Taffy started the ignition, she looked at Einer.
“Did Macy know about about Blake’s ex? What’s her name?”
Einer smiled as his look grew vague and distant. “Miss Veronica. That’s what she had me call her. And I really don’t know what your friend knew and didn’t know. I try to keep to myself, mind my own business, and try not to get involved in the business of others.”
“Even when the business is murder?”
He didn’t say anything to that. But before she pulled away from the curb, Einer tapped the leather console between them.
“Let me give you a bit of advice, Miss Newton. A tip. Listen closely to what that blowhard of a captain is saying. And what he’s not saying.”
“You mean Lorne?”
“And ask him about his camera.”
“What about it?”
Einer leaned back. “It’s all I can say.” And he meant it. They rode in silence the rest of the way.
* * *
Taffy dropped Einer at the police station. As he was walking in, she quickly dialed Maria’s number.
“Brought you a present. Look up in a second, and you’ll see it.”
There was a pause, and then Maria said, “Ah, interesting. Where’d you find him?”
“On Fell Street, up from the port. The main thing is, he’s no murderer.”
“What’s his alibi?”
Taffy cleared her throat. “Were you aware that there’s a brothel in Abandon?”
Maria laughed. “You mean Mimi’s Massages and More?”
“You know about it? Is that even allowed?”
“Of course not, at least not the assumptions we make about the ‘more,’ but her accounts are up-to-date, and she’s friends with the mayor, so the chief leaves her alone, for the most part.�
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Taffy mumbled. “And I thought I knew all of Abandon’s secrets.”
“That’s where Einer was? Sort of makes sense, I suppose. I’ll have to talk to Mimi too.”
“Want me to go over there?”
“No, I’ll take it from here. Let me take care of Einer first. You take care of your friends. I’ll call you later.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Taffy got home, opened her trunk to start hauling the groceries up the steps. She realized too late that she’d forgotten to drop off the bag of cat food at Ethan’s. She’d have to do that later.
The music was still blaring, but someone turned it down as Taffy entered the house. Macy took a bag of groceries from Taffy’s arms and said, “Cher called Luke while you were out.”
“What? Why?”
“I told him we were staying at your place in Oregon. I thought he’d be interested.”
“It’s none of his business. And my love life is none of yours.”
Macy looked at Cher and then said, “How can you say that? We already decided in high school that we’re going to have designer weddings, summer houses in the Hamptons, and name our firstborn children after the most exotic country we’ve ever visited.”
Taffy rolled her eyes and carried her bags to the kitchen. The girls followed her.
“That reminds me,” Cher said. “I have to plan a trip to India.”
Macy pouted. “I don’t even want to go to Cambodia or Cameroon, but I really want a daughter named Cami or a son named Cam.”
“Do you hear yourselves?” Having freed up her arms by setting the bags on the counter, she could now gesticulate her incredulity.
Macy ignored her question—and Taffy’s flailing arms—and looked at her seriously. “Have you already been to Ireland, Taffy? It’s not all that exotic, but we all agreed it was a really pretty name for a girl. Or Paris.” She looked at Cher. “Which is technically a city, but we’d let that slip through, wouldn’t we?”
“Sure,” Cher said, nodding.
Taffy shook her head. “I don’t have my life all figured out like that anymore. And besides, if I had a child, the father would have to agree on the name.”
“I hear Luke went to China last year on business. You could change the ‘i’ to a ‘y,’ and that would be cool.”
Macy’s eyes sparkled. “It really would.”
“Ethan. My boyfriend’s name is Ethan.”
“Boyfriend for now, you mean. Luke will wait. At least I think he will.”
“Can you both please stop? We have more important things to worry about. For one thing, Einer has an alibi. So he didn’t kill Blake.”
They looked caught off guard for all of a split second.
Then Cher’s face brightened. “Luke said he wanted you to call him. We said we’d pass on the message. You should really call him back. Just to be polite.”
Taffy rolled her eyes again as she started putting things away.
Macy looked in the bags. “Oooh, now we all of the ingredients we need for chocolate martinis!”
“Let the mixology begin,” Cher said, heading to the parlor to pull out the crystal glasses that had been left with the house when Taffy had moved in. “Turn on your party playlist, Macy,” she called from the other room.
Taffy sighed. Was there any point in fighting this right now?
“Starting tomorrow—,” she started to say, but then she had to raise her voice when some loud rap music started belching from Macy’s phone to the speakers. “Tomorrow”—she said above the din—“we are going to come up with a plan to get you two off the hook and back to the Big Apple.”
“But for now—” Macy said, pouring three shots, handing one to Taffy, and sliding her arm around her shoulder. “We are going to pretend we are going to focus on the bright side, add a few sparkles and bling, and get a little delirious before we get serious.”
They clinked glasses and downed their shots. Taffy realized that sometimes you just had to stop fighting the current. You had to go with the flow. She extended her empty shot glass for a refill.
* * *
By ten o’clock, Taffy, Macy, and Cher were in their silky pajamas with music blaring and empty cocktail glasses scattered about the living room. Taffy had already told them there was no way they were going to drive around town in her convertible, in their pajamas, with the music turned up, so now Cher was angling to build a campfire in the backyard and roast marshmallows, since finding a stash in Taffy’s pantry.
“We’ll make s’mores. Like when we were kids!”
“We never made them, Macy. Those were other kids. Kids who camped and rode bikes down dusty lanes. We rode horses and ate caviar on crackers.”
“Then it’s even more critical that we do it now. We can’t miss out on something so quaint!”
She opened the kitchen door to head out to the backyard. In her inebriated state, she nearly tripped over something smooth and sleek darting into the kitchen.
“That cat again!” Cher said, pointing.
He’d found his way back from Ethan’s? The cat door flapped behind Midnight, and he dashed up the stairs. Taffy was sure he’d end up in Cher’s room.
“What’s going on?” Macy stumbled in to the kitchen wearing the diamond tiara.
The marshmallows had tumbled from Cher’s hand and scattered across the back porch, and so Taffy was picking them up while Cher was stuffing as many into her cheeks as she could.
About this time, the doorbell rang. It was hard to register above the din of music, but a moment later Maria walked into the kitchen and stood at the open door leading to the back porch.
By this time, Macy was also on her knees, with her baby doll negligee slipping off one shoulder as Cher stuffed marshmallows into her mouth, and they were both giggling hysterically and trying not to choke. Taffy had forgotten about Midnight and given up trying to recover any marshmallows and was now taking photos of Macy and Cher in their compromising positions.
Maria cleared her throat and said, “I thought the sleepover plans were a joke.”
Taffy stood up, quickly tucking her phone into the hem of her boxer short pajama bottoms, but it just fell out and bounced off a stray marshmallow. This made Macy and Cher giggle even more, and the two of them were tumbling over each other until Cher started choking and finally spitting out the mush in her mouth.
“Um…” said Taffy. “We were just…”
“Taking the situation more seriously, I see.” Maria arched an eyebrow.
“Well… We just took a small break from doing that. But we have been. Truly.” Taffy hiccuped.
Maria lifted up a nearly empty bottles of Crème de Cacao.
“A little liquid regression therapy?”
They all followed Maria back to the kitchen. As the giggling subsided, Cher sneezed, sending some white bits flying across the counter. Macy surrendered to a fit of giggles again. When she started to settle down, she took the tiara off and perched it on Maria’s head, slightly askew.
“Definitely adds a little je ne sais quoi.”
“Definitely,” echoed Cher as she reached for a kitchen towel, which she used to blow her nose. The music continued to rap wildly in the background.
“Right,” Taffy said, thinking it was time to muster a bit of control and decorum. “Maria, I’m guessing you’re here for a reason?”
“I am.” Maria set the tiara down on the counter but seemed to encounter a sticky spot. She grabbed a kitchen towel for herself.
Taffy went to turn the music off. They all followed her into the living room, where she grabbed two throw blankets from the basket behind the couch and handed them to the girls. She pulled one of Ethan’s flannel shirts that he’d left hanging by the front door over her lacy tank top. Everyone sat down on the couches and chairs gathered around the messy, bottle-and-glasses-strewn coffee table.
Trying to get serious, Taffy said to Maria, “Okay, what’s the latest?” All three of them stared at her.
Maria pointed t
o her own forehead, but Taffy saw nothing amiss.
“Marshmallow,” Cher said, pointing to a spot at her own hairline. “You’ve got some here,” she said to Taffy. “I apologize in advance if it has my spit on it.”
Taffy reach up and pulled a clump of stickiness from her hair. Ugh. She didn’t know what to do with it, so she tucked it in the pocket of the flannel shirt.
“Normally, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your fun,” Maria started to say. Taffy could hear the veiled criticism in her voice. “But I thought you’d all like to know that we’ve tracked down Blake’s ex-wife, Veronica Holbrook Reese, and she’s flying out tomorrow to identify the body.”
Macy’s hand went to her throat. Maria watched her closely.
“Do you know her, Macy?” Maria asked. “Does she know about you?”
Macy shook her head. “Blake mentioned an ex-wife once or twice. But he said he had nothing to do with her anymore.”
Maria said, “Apparently, they weren’t officially divorced yet.”
Cher gasped. “But he was about to propose to Macy!”
“Was the present Mrs. Reese aware of that? Because she’s acting like the grief-stricken wife.”
Macy looked surprised. Taffy didn’t think she was faking it.
Macy then blurted. “I don’t want to meet her.”
“My guess is she won’t want to meet you either, so you might want to keep yourselves busy elsewhere tomorrow.” She looked at Taffy when she said this. “I’m not yet sure what other evidence she’ll bring forward.”
Taffy leaned forward. “Evidence?”
“She said she has some critical information for us.”
“Isn’t she a suspect too?” Cher asked, crossing her arms. “She should be.”
Maria gave her an appraising look. “She wasn’t anywhere near Abandon the night of the murder. She has a sound alibi.”
“I think Blake once told me she lives in New York now,” Macy offered.
Maria said, “She had some sort of business dealing in San Francisco recently, so she’s flying up from there. That’s all I know. I’ll find out more tomorrow.” Maria glanced around the room at the pajama party mess. “I thought you all might want to lay low for the day so as not to stir up unnecessary trouble.” She looked at Taffy as she said this.