Poisoned by the Pier

by Ellen Jacobson

  I had asked one of the ladies at the marina why anyone would have a crazy oven setup like that, and she told me it was for when you were out at sea. When the waves tipped your boat from side to side, the oven tilted with the motion of the boat and stayed steady. “Gimbaled” is what she told me it was called. I have another name for it, one I won’t repeat here because my mother raised me right.

  Goodness. See what it had come to? I had been living on a sailboat for only a short period of time and had now started to cuss like an old, crusty sailor. But at least I reserved my swearing for times when I was alone—and provoked by kitchen appliances.

  Mrs. Moto batted at the crumpled-up wrappers on the sofa. One after another, she knocked them all on the floor. When I picked them up, I made the mistake of counting them. Whoa, that was a lot of chocolate. No wonder I had a bit of a tummy ache. Or maybe there really was a stomach flu going around.

  After I threw the wrappers in the trash, I scraped the half-baked, half-burned cake out of the pan and into a plastic bag. “I’m going to go toss this in the dumpster,” I said to my little calico fur ball. “You be a good girl and hold down the fort.”

  After dumping the trash, I walked back across the boatyard and spotted my friend, Penny Chadwick, the local boat broker and sailing school instructor. She was easy to pick out of any crowd—an attractive blonde always dressed head-to-toe in shades of her favorite color, pink. Today’s outfit consisted of coral-colored skinny-legged jeans and a loose fuchsia blouse. I imagine she would have appreciated the pink bow I wore in my Persian cat nightmare.

  Penny was standing by the sailboat next to ours, pointing out its features to a young couple. “I think you can get Mana Kai at a bargain price. Her current owners are quite eager to sell. Their circumstances have, um, changed, and the wife has had to move back to Hawaii,” she said with her adorable Texan twang. She caught sight of me and waved me over. “Mollie can tell you what a great boat this is. Isn’t that right, sugar?”

  “My idea of a great boat is one that has a dishwasher, freezer, and plenty of counter space,” I said. “Oh, and room for a Cuisinart would be heaven.”

  Penny laughed. “Okay, maybe Mollie isn’t the best person to talk to you about sailboats. They’re more her husband’s thing. But, admit it, you are beginning to like sailing, aren’t you, sugar?” she said as she put her arm around my shoulders. “This here is my star pupil in the weekly ladies’ sailing class. Here, let me introduce you. This is my client, Jeff Morgan, and his fiancée, Emily van der Byl.”

  As Jeff held out his hand to shake mine, I couldn’t help but notice his ears. Was it my imagination, or was one considerably smaller than the other? Did people have different-sized ears? I shook my head. What a ridiculous thought—probably the result of coming down from my sugar high. It was affecting my thinking. The rest of him seemed normal. A guy in his late twenties, average height, blond crew-cut hair, and pale-blue eyes. I’m sure his ears were normal too.

  Then I noticed Emily’s fingers. Not because they were weirdly shaped, but because they were beautifully manicured, and because she had a gorgeous emerald ring on her left hand. She looked normal too—probably also in her late twenties, tall and slender with dark hair in a messy bun on top of her head and sporting an adorable sundress.

  Jeff smiled as he saw me admiring her ring. “I surprised her with that on her birthday a few weeks ago. I know it’s not a traditional engagement ring, but I love how the color matches her eyes.” He put his arm around his fiancée’s waist. “It’s been a real whirlwind romance, hasn’t it, babe?”

  While he told me about the steps he had taken to keep his proposal a secret from Emily, I was entranced by his accent. He definitely wasn’t from Florida. Australian, maybe? Did they have a problem with mismatched ears down under? Stop thinking about his ears, I told myself, which caused me to think even more about his ears. That’s when I realized everyone was staring at me.

  “Why are you tugging on your earlobe?” Penny asked. “Do you have an ear infection?”

  I felt my face grow warm. Did they know what I had been thinking? “Uh, no,” I said. “Just noticing that I forgot to put earrings on today.” I turned to Emily and Jeff and smiled brightly. “Getting jewelry for a special occasion, like your birthday or an engagement, is so romantic,” I said, remembering the decidedly unromantic sailboat Scooter had given me on our wedding anniversary. Fortunately, he’d redeemed himself later by giving me a lovely necklace with a diamond lighthouse pendant.

  “So, what are you up to today?” Penny asked.

  “I’m trying to bake a cake for the competition tomorrow. Emphasis on trying.”

  Jeff’s eyes lit up. “I’m taking part too. Once we finish viewing boats, I’ve got to get back and finish up my entry.”

  Emily put her arm through Jeff’s. “Wait until you see his creation. The man is a master when it comes to icing and sugar art. His cakes are so gorgeous you almost hate to eat them. Not that it stops me. Cake is my favorite dessert. If I see one, I can’t help myself. I have to take a bite.”

  Jeff laughed. “That’s why baking is such a good hobby for me. I have an adoring fan club already built in. She has a real artistic flair—not only does she dress like a fashion plate, she also knows a beautiful cake when she sees one.”

  I nodded politely. Even though Jeff’s cake might be artistic, mine was going to be the showstopper. Jaws were going to drop when folks got a load of my masterpiece.

  “I do love fashion and cake,” she said. “It drove my father to despair. He had hoped I’d have a head for accounting and go into the family business.”

  “What about your siblings? Can’t one of them take over?”

  “I’m an only child,” she said with a wistful smile. “I guess you could also say I’m an orphan as well, since both of my parents have passed on. It’s a good thing Jeff has a head for money. He’s helping me manage my father’s estate.” She held out her hand and admired her ring. “I still can’t believe how lucky I am.”

  “Oh no,” Penny said, glancing toward the entrance of the boatyard. “I can’t seem to get rid of him.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked, putting my hand over my eyes to shade them from the bright sun. I saw a familiar gray-clad man walking toward us. “Do you mean Alan Simpson?”

  “He’s been pestering me for weeks. He wants me to hire him to take photographs of boats I have for sale. At first I humored him because he bought a sailboat from me, but then he ended up selling it a week later. He said his mom worried about him falling overboard and drowning. Lately he’s been talking about getting a golf cart instead,” Penny said. “I keep telling him that I’m perfectly capable of taking my own photos, but he goes on and on about how he’s a professional and that if I want to be taken seriously, I should enlist his help.”

  “Just because some of your pictures have been featured in a small-town newspaper doesn’t make you a great photographer,” Jeff said, glancing over at Alan.

  “Do you know him?” Penny asked.

  Jeff frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, not personally. I’ve just seen him around town.”

  Penny turned to his fiancée. “What about you, Emily?”

  The young woman suddenly seemed absorbed in polishing her sunglasses. “Me? Why would I know him? I’m not even from Coconut Cove.”

  “Where are you from?” I asked.

  “Do you know Destiny Key?”

  “Is that the island north of here?”

  Emily nodded. “It’s a great location. Close enough to the big cities on the Gulf Coast, yet remote at the same time. The only way on and off the island is by ferry, and that only runs a few times a week.” She glanced in Alan’s direction and exchanged a look with Jeff before putting her sunglasses back on.

  “Didn’t you say you had a boat to show us that’s in a slip at the marina?” Jeff looked at his watch. “Maybe we should head over there now. I’ve got to get back and put the final touches on my cake.”
r />   Alan waved tentatively as he approached the group. Emily grabbed Jeff’s hand. “Why don’t we meet Penny at the marina office? I could use a cold soda before we see more boats.” They hurried away before Penny could respond, giving Alan the perfect opportunity to try to convince Penny to hire him. Or at least that’s what I think he was doing. His mumbling made it hard to understand what he was saying.

  As I turned toward my own boat, I thought about Jeff and Emily’s reaction to Alan. Although people often avoided Alan when they saw him coming—even I had thought he was a bit odd when I first met him—the young couple had said they didn’t know him. If that was the case, what was up with their hasty departure?

  3

  MINIATURE CROP CIRCLES

  Thanks to a friend’s generous offer to let me use her family’s spacious, well-equipped kitchen, I had finally managed to finish my entry for the cake competition. I was in a great mood—my cake looked amazing, my friend had fed me pizza before I left (mercifully free of rutabaga extract), and now I was out for an evening stroll with Scooter and Mrs. Moto.

  Yes, that’s right. Our cat goes for walks with us on a leash just like a dog.

  Oops. I probably shouldn’t have compared her to a dog. She would be so insulted. Let’s keep that between us, okay? If she asks, tell her we were talking about the fact that she’s no ordinary cat. After all, how many cats do you know who find important clues that lead to solving murder mysteries?

  As the three of us meandered along one of the pathways in the waterfront park, I pointed at a grassy area next to a clump of oak trees. “I think that’s where the booth will be.”

  “Uh-huh,” Scooter mumbled without glancing up from his phone.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Sure…something about your tooth.”

  “No, not my tooth, my booth! The FAROUT booth.”

  He continued to stare at the screen. “Uh-huh. Your tooth is far out.”

  “No, not that kind of ‘far out.’” I yanked the phone out of his hand. “FAROUT, as in the Federation for Alien Research, Outreach, and UFO Tracking.” I cocked my head. “You know, the organization I work for.”

  Sometimes, Scooter had to be reminded that I had an important job, just as important as his. He spent his days on conference calls, staring at really boring spreadsheets, and reading all sorts of technical documents. I had to stifle a yawn every time I peeked at his computer. It was possibly even more boring than watching golf on TV.

  My job was far more interesting. Investigating UFO sightings, interviewing people about alien abductions, and educating the public about our extraterrestrial neighbors—now, that was fascinating work. Sure, I didn’t get paid, but as the saying went, “Volunteering ain’t for sissies.”

  Scooter tried to grab his phone back. “Enough work, already,” I said, shoving it into my purse. “We’re here to relax and have a good time.” I squeezed his hand. “And you definitely need to relax.”

  “It’s hard to relax when you’re dealing with a contract dispute. Losing all those business records in that fire didn’t help either.” He held up his hand. “Don’t say it.”

  “Say what?” I asked.

  “You were going to say something about how you can’t believe I run my own consulting company and deal with technology every day, yet some of my important documents weren’t backed up.”

  “Nope, I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to tell you how adorable you look with those new tortoise-shell glasses of yours.”

  “You realize they’re the same exact frames I had before, just with stronger lenses, right?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’m very observant. I noticed the stronger lenses right away.”

  Scooter smirked. “You noticed that my prescription had changed from looking at the lenses?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. After all, I’m an investigative reporter for FAROUT. Noticing small details is a critical part of my job. Remember how I discovered that miniature crop circle in Mrs. MacDougal’s garden? Everyone else thinks crop circles have to be huge, but there are miniature ones out there. However, you have to be observant enough to notice them.” I tapped my chest. “That’s where I come in.”

  “I remember. She’ll never look at her rose bushes the same way again,” he said with a smile. “But I still don’t think you can tell that my lenses are different.” He took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, and sighed. “Just one more sign of getting older. My eyes are getting worse. Next thing you know, I’ll be wearing hearing aids.” Then he patted his imaginary beer belly. “But at least I can do something about this.”

  I reached up and gave him a hug. “You look great to me. I’m sure Mrs. Moto would agree too.” I bent down to scoop her up, but all I saw was the end of a leash without our calico attached to it. “Now where did she go?” I asked. It used to be that she’d mysteriously lose all her collars. Getting her a pretty, rhinestone-encrusted collar had put a stop to that. But lately, she had been doing a regular Houdini and getting off her leash when we weren’t paying attention.

  I put my hands on my hips. “If she wants to go for walks with us, she’s going to have to start playing by the rules, and that means wearing her harness and her leash.”

  Scooter laughed. “Playing by the rules…you’re hardly one to talk.”

  “Well, sometimes rules are stupid. Those ones you don’t have to obey. But I’m worried that if Nancy sees Mrs. Moto running around loose in the park, she’ll report her.”

  “But she lets her run around off-leash at the marina,” Scooter said. “I wonder why she’s never put a stop to that, considering she and Ned own the place.”

  “She barely tolerates that,” I said. “And that’s only because her grandkids love chasing Mrs. Moto around the patio area and playing hide-and-seek with her. She can’t say no to them. Tell you what—let’s split up and find her. You head that way,” I said, pointing toward a long pier, which extended out over the water. “She could be there watching the guys fishing and hoping for a handout. I’ll go over and check out the playground. You know how she enjoys going down the slide.”

  After searching for our elusive cat for a good quarter of an hour, I heard a voice over the loudspeaker. “Over here, my little Milk Dud!” You’d think I’d be embarrassed, but after ten years of marriage, I was used to being called some truly bizarre pet names by my husband in public. He even called me by a pet name during our wedding vows. You should have seen the minister’s face.

  Scooter was standing on a stage that had been set up next to the waterfront for the festival. The way he was holding the microphone and announcing my arrival reminded me of a game show host. “Here she comes, our next contestant, my little Milk Dud!” People broke out into mock applause as I neared the stage. He could be a real goofball at times. Fortunately, he was an adorable goofball.

  After taking a mock bow, I noticed Mrs. Moto in the first row of folding chairs set up in front of the stage. She was cuddled up in Emily’s lap and purring loudly while the young woman rubbed her belly.

  Jeff was seated next to his fiancée. “I’m not sure you’re going to get your cat back,” he said. “I should probably get Emily one to keep her company after we’re married, given how much I travel for work.”

  “Or a puppy,” I suggested as a terrier streaked past me, closely followed by a chocolate Labrador retriever, a German shepherd, and two Yorkies. Mrs. Moto wasn’t the only one flouting the leash laws.

  “What’s going on?” Scooter asked. “Nancy just kicked me off the stage.”

  I glanced at the impeccably dressed older woman standing behind the podium. Despite the breeze, not a strand of her hair was out of place. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. She’s giving a briefing on the festival.”

  “Quick, let’s get out of here before she sees us,” he said as he scooped Mrs. Moto off Emily’s lap.

  “Settle down, everyone, so we can commence on time.” Nancy winced at the feedback that came through the speakers. Her hu
sband, Ned, hurried to the control panel, adjusted a few dials, and then gave her a thumbs-up. She peered over her reading glasses at everyone milling about and chatting with one another. “Take your seats,” she said firmly. When she didn’t get a response, she barked, “Sit!”

  Scooter and I quickly planted our butts in the chairs next to Emily and Jeff. The dogs all cowered on the ground.

  “Do I have to sit through this?” Scooter whispered to me. “I don’t have anything to do with the festival. Why don’t I meet you later?”

  “It shouldn’t take long,” I said. “Besides, you can’t get up now. Nancy would have a fit if you disturbed her presentation.”

  “Fine,” he said, as he tried to grab my bag. “I’ll just get my phone and answer a few emails.”

  I pulled it back. “You know better than to go through a woman’s purse. I’ll get it for you.” I tilted my bag so he couldn’t see the package of M&M’S that his phone was nestled under. I pulled it out and handed it to him, wishing there was a way I could sneak a few chunks of chocolate into my mouth without Scooter noticing.

  “Quiet down, people,” Nancy said. “You don’t want to get a detention slip, do you?” I wasn’t entirely sure she was joking. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Nancy Schneider. I’m the chair of the Coconut Cove Boating Festival Organizing Committee. This evening, I’m going to go through the festival schedule, explain how each event is organized, and detail the rules and regulations that everyone needs to follow.”