Poisoned by the Pier

by Ellen Jacobson

  I turned to Nancy, holding my cat up. “Of course you know Princess Leia. Everyone knows who she is. This long white senatorial gown is the outfit from the original Star Wars. Surely, you recognize the earmuff hairstyle?”

  The older woman shook her head, then straightened her papers on the podium. “You may exit the stage now. We’ll begin our deliberations.”

  While the judges added up their scores, Mrs. Moto and I were surrounded by members of the audience, all eager to see the Princess Leia costume up close and take pictures. Alan and Scooter filmed the crowd, while our calico basked in the adoration.

  “Attention: will all pet-costume competitors and their owners please return to the stage.”

  After Nancy made sure we were all neatly lined up, she opened the envelope that the judges had handed her. “In third place is Bob, the terrier who was dressed as Sherlock Holmes. In second place is Chloe, the chocolate Lab who was dressed up as a Hawaiian hula dancer.”

  “And now for the grand prize winner.” While Nancy paused for dramatic effect, Anabel reached out and squeezed my hand. “No matter how it turns out, I just wanted to say I’m glad we’ve become friends.” I squeezed her hand back and wished her and the Yorkies luck.

  “The dog taking home this year’s crown is…this can’t be right.” Nancy walked over to the judges and pointed at the results. After a lengthy consultation, she shook her head and returned to the podium. “This year’s winner of the Coconut Cove pet-costume competition isn’t a dog, it’s the feline, Mrs. Moto.”

  “Way to go!” Scooter shouted. Mrs. Moto leaped out of my arms and darted to the front of the stage. The kids in the audience ran up and took turns congratulating her and scratching her belly. I sighed in relief. After everything we had been through over the past week, beginning with Emily’s murder and ending with Scooter practically being accused of killing her, it was nice to have something finally go our way.

  * * *

  “Cupcakes for everyone,” Penelope said as she set three large purple boxes on the table. An impromptu gathering had broken out after the pet-costume competition. The group had laid out blankets on the grass and commandeered the picnic tables and grill by the waterfront. Ned was dishing up hamburgers and hot dogs, while Nancy scooped potato salad and coleslaw on plates. To everyone’s relief, there wasn’t a single rutabaga in sight.

  “Hey, those are for dessert,” Scooter said when I tried to peek into the pastry boxes.

  “So, what I hear you saying is that dessert is back on,” I said as I slid onto the bench next to him.

  “It is,” he said as he squeezed some ketchup onto his burger. After he took a bite, he added, “But in moderation. It’s possible I might have gone overboard with Rutamentals, but I still think my motivation was worthwhile. We really need to take better care of ourselves so we can Live Healthy, Live Long—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know—Live Strong.” I ate some potato salad. It had the perfect mix of mayo and mustard. “Why don’t we try to come up with an eating plan that works for both of us.” I waved my fork at him. “But I have two rules. One—we have to be able to eat dessert and french fries at least twice a week.” Scooter nodded. “And two—no rutabagas.”

  “What was the deal with all those rutabagas?” Penny asked as she sat down next to me.

  “I think you were one of the few people in Coconut Cove who didn’t get suckered into the Rutamentals diet,” I said.

  “There were some good aspects to it,” Scooter said.

  I smiled. “Wanda got sick from eating too many rutabagas. That certainly wasn’t good.”

  “I thought she had been poisoned,” Penny said.

  “She thought she had been too, but it turned out not to be the case,” I said. “You missed a lot while you were out of town.”

  “Where were you, anyway?” Ben asked.

  “In Miami looking at some boats,” she replied. “What else happened?” After I explained about how Jeff had plotted to kill Penelope so Emily would inherit all her father’s estate, she shook her head. “I always thought there was something off about him.”

  “I know,” I said. “His ears gave it away.”

  Penny laughed so hard that she almost choked on her hot dog. “His ears? Since when can you tell if someone is a murderer by their ears?”

  “What was wrong with his ears?” Ben asked.

  “Didn’t you notice how one was misshapen and much larger than the other one? I couldn’t take my eyes off it.”

  Ben shrugged. “Sounds like cauliflower ear.”

  “Huh? Do you get that from eating too much cauliflower? Oh my gosh, what are the side effects of eating too many rutabagas? What’s going to happen to Scooter? He ate a lot of them. Is one of his ears going to start growing?”

  “Well, they do say your ears keep growing as you get older, like your nose, feet, and hands,” Ben said. “But cauliflower ear comes from getting hit. Rugby’s big down under. The guys get knocked around, and their ears get damaged.”

  Scooter sighed. “So, in addition to turning fifty and getting a beer belly and gray hair, now I have to worry about my nose, feet, and hands getting bigger?”

  “Don’t forget about the hair that will start growing uncontrollably from your ears,” Penny added with a chuckle. “On a more serious note, how did you get Jeff to admit to what he had done?”

  “That was easy. He was really full of himself, a real Mr. Know-It-All. I knew he would want to brag about how clever he was. Alan was happy to help. He set up a hidden camera in the sports pavilion and monitored everything from outside. I called Jeff and told him that I wanted to meet, set a time, then just sat back and listened to him confess.”

  “I still think you should have told me what you were up to,” Scooter said. “Things might not have gone as smoothly as you planned. He could have turned on you.”

  “But he didn’t,” I said, giving Scooter a quick kiss on the cheek. “Everything worked out okay.”

  Penelope walked over to the table and opened the boxes. “Are you guys ready for a cupcake?”

  “Me! Me! Can I have one of the chocolate ones?” I asked. After she passed me one on a napkin, I thanked her. Then I looked back and forth between the baker and the Texan sitting to my right. “What are the odds that the two of you would have the same name?”

  Penny’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Hers is Penelope and mine is Penny.”

  “Isn’t Penny short for Penelope?” Scooter asked.

  “Nope. It’s just plain Penny. My mom found a penny on the sidewalk after the doctor told her that she was pregnant with me. You know the saying—‘Find a penny, pick it up, and all the day, you’ll have good luck.’ She had been trying for years, so she took it as a sign that her luck had finally changed. When I was born, she named me Penny.”

  “That’s sweet,” I said. “Although it is a bit confusing at times having a Penelope and a Penny in the same town.”

  Ben wadded up his napkin on his plate and held out his hand for a cupcake. After Penelope doled out a few more to us (yes, I nabbed a second chocolate one), she walked over to the other table before we ate more than our share.

  “What else did I miss?” Penny asked.

  “A lot of family drama,” Ben said as he wiped frosting off his mouth. “Turns out Penelope and Emily were sisters, and Wanda was Emily’s aunt. There’s some bad blood there.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” I watched as Penelope sat down on the picnic blanket next to Wanda and offered her a cupcake. “Penelope is too sweet of a person. I don’t think she can stay angry with anyone for long or hold a grudge. Who knows, maybe the two of them might become friends over time.”

  “Penelope sure did dodge a bullet when Emily ate that cake instead of her,” Ben said. “What was that stuff he put on it called again?”

  “Gelsemium,” I said. “Because Jeff was a pharmaceutical sales rep, he knew about the dangers of herbal medicines, especially if someone had a preexisting health condition
. Thanks to the interviews Alan did on behalf of Emily, he knew Penelope had a heart condition. When he saw that bottle of gelsemium, he grabbed it and waited for the right opportunity to use it.”

  “And that was at the cake competition,” Penny said.

  “That’s right. Unfortunately, Emily sneaked back to the sports pavilion to cut another slice of Jeff’s cake while he was occupied watching the fire. Then she took the other slice out to the fishing pier and ate it. She had the same heart condition as her half sister, and the gelsemium ended up killing her.”

  Everyone was silent for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts.

  “I’ve got more hot dogs and burgers,” Ned called out from the grill. “Come and get ’em.” Penny and Ben grabbed their plates and excused themselves. Scooter convinced me to skip seconds as part of our new approach to eating in moderation.

  “Do you think she’s bothering him?” my husband asked, pointing at Chief Dalton, who was sitting under a tree next to Anabel. The two Yorkies were sleeping in their doggie bed, and, much to my surprise, Mrs. Moto was dozing in the chief’s lap while he stroked her.

  “Can you pass me that hot dog you didn’t finish?” I asked. “She’s probably hungry. I’ll go take her a snack.”

  All three of the critters woke up when I approached. The smell of grilled meat will do that to you. I knelt on the grass and handed out the treats. “One at a time,” I said. “Frack, you’re first. Now Frick. Okay, Mrs. Moto, now it’s your turn.” After the last piece was given out and my hands had been thoroughly licked clean by their tongues, I scratched the calico’s head. “Are you bothering the chief and Anabel?”

  “She’s fine,” the burly man said gruffly. “For some reason, Frick and Frack have taken a liking to her.”

  “Admit it, Tiny, you have too,” Anabel said.

  “Why exactly is your nickname Tiny?” I asked.

  The chief raised one of his bushy eyebrows. “No comment.” Then he turned to Anabel. “It’s our little secret, right?”

  “No comment,” she replied with a smile. As she adjusted Frick’s and Frack’s fairy wings, she congratulated me on Mrs. Moto’s costume and taking the top prize. Then she wagged her finger at me playfully. “But wait until you see what I have lined up for next year’s costumes. We’re going to take back the crown.”

  Alan walked toward us, his chestnut hair glimmering in the sunlight. “Can you all sit next to each other with the dogs and cat in the front?” he asked, holding up his camera.

  After he was finished, the chief cleared his throat. “Good job,” he said. “Both of you.”

  Anabel leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Tiny rarely offers any praise. You two must have really impressed him.”

  I knew I should have left when the going was good, but I couldn’t help myself. “It was actually the three of us. If Mrs. Moto hadn’t found Wanda’s journal, then I never would have followed the clues that led to discovering the tragic Van der Byl family history and uncovering Jeff’s role in trying to make sure Emily inherited everything.”

  Mrs. Moto meowed in agreement while the chief scowled.

  * * *

  After the picnic, both Scooter and I were stuffed, despite not having seconds. Mrs. Moto, on the other hand, yowled until her dinner was served. After she gobbled down all her Frisky Feline Ocean’s Delight, the three of us sat in the cockpit and watched the sun go down over the boatyard.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” I said to Scooter. “I signed us up for the Fourth of July regatta with the Coconut Crew. It’s going to be great. We’ll race up to Destiny Key and anchor overnight. Then there are shorter races and activities during the weekend, followed by a race back to Coconut Cove.”

  Scooter’s mouth fell open. “Really, that’s something you want to do? Even after Naut Guilty and The Codfather II crashed into each other?”

  “What are the chances something like that could happen again? Statistically, it’s not possible.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use mathematically based logic before,” he said with a chuckle. “If you want to talk statistics, what are the chances you would have found five dead bodies since we’ve moved to Coconut Cove?”

  “Okay, you may have a point.” I toyed with my necklace while I considered what he said. After a few moments, I slapped my hands on my thighs. “You know what, math gives me a headache. Let’s not think about statistics. Let’s just go for it. Owning a boat has been your dream, and I loved racing on Pretty in Pink. It’ll be fun to do some more sailing.”

  “The Fourth of July.” Scooter chewed on his lip. “That’s a little over three months away. Do you think we’ll be ready by then? We’ve got a lot of boat projects left on our list.”

  “We’ll have to be. The deposit was nonrefundable. Anyway, I’ve already checked one thing off the list—I sorted out our insurance policy. After what happened to Mike, I want to make sure that we’re covered for racing.” I held up my hands. “Not that we’re going to crash into anyone, of course.”

  He nodded. “Okay, let’s buckle down and get it done.”

  Mrs. Moto crawled into my lap and curled up in a ball. “I was thinking I should make her a little sailor’s costume, complete with a captain’s hat.”

  Scooter smiled. “Why don’t you make three? That way the crew of Marjorie Jane can have matching outfits.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I have another surprise for you.” I reached into a bag sitting on the bench next to me and pulled out a box. “Ta-da!”

  “What is it? Is that cereal?”

  “Yep. Since you’re off Rutamentals, I figured it was time you got back to your regular diet. I know you used to eat Cap’n Crunch, but I got you Lucky Charms this time. After everything that happened with your business, I figured you could use a little luck.”

  Scooter sighed. “About that. I was thinking it might be time for a career change. I’ve got a few ideas in mind.”

  “Whatever you want to do, I’m behind you one hundred percent.” I leaned against Scooter’s chest and looked out at the boats in the yard. Soon we’d be leaving this place, putting Marjorie Jane back into the water where she belonged and taking her out sailing. What could possibly go wrong?

  * * *

  I hope you enjoyed reading Poisoned by the Pier! To find out what Mollie and Scooter get up to next, check out the next book in the series - Dead in the Dinghy. You can grab a copy at your favorite retailer at books2read.com/deadinthedinghy. Spoiler alert: you’ll want to binge watch cute cat videos after you’ve finished reading. You can find a sneak peek of Dead in the Dinghy at the end of this book.

  MOLLIE’S SAILING TIPS

  I asked Mollie if she would share some tips on how to cook aboard a sailboat. “Sure,” she said with a smile. “That’s simple. My number one tip is to go out to eat instead. There are lots of great places in Coconut Cove that will cook or bake for you—Alligator Chuck’s BBQ Joint, the Sailor’s Corner Cafe, the Tipsy Pirate, the Thai place, or Penelope’s Sugar Shack.”

  After explaining that our readers might not always be anchored near Coconut Cove or another town and might have to cook on board their boats at least some of the time, she offered this tip: “Avoid any recipes that include rutabagas.” Then she laughed so hard that she snorted her coffee through her nose.

  “Sorry,” she said after she composed herself. “Every time I think about rutabagas I get a serious case of the giggles. Can you believe everyone was so crazy about that Rutamentals diet?”

  At this point, Mrs. Moto crawled onto Mollie’s lap and demanded attention. After rubbing her belly for a few minutes, she said, “In all seriousness, cooking on a boat has its challenges. I’ve been fortunate enough to be connected to shore power while we’ve been living aboard Marjorie Jane which means I don’t have to worry about having enough energy to use our appliances. I’m also have a grocery store nearby, so I can stock up on supplies whenever I need to.”

  She took a cautious sip of coffee, then
continued, “But we’re planning to go sailing for the first time during the Coconut Cove regatta which means I’ll have to learn how to cook while at anchor. And if that goes well, we may go on longer trips. The ladies at the marina have been fantastic sharing their cooking tips and tricks which I’ll be happy to pass on to you.”

  Mollie’s Tips for Cooking on a Sailboat

  1 – Limited Power

  Once you’re disconnected from shore power and leave the marina, you have to monitor your energy consumption. You won’t be able to run the electrical appliances that you did on shore without an inverter. And you also have to be careful that you don’t drain your batteries. Instead of running a coffee maker, you might use French press. Rather than using your Cuisinart to mix and knead dough, you do it by hand. Grill bread under the broiler or brown it in a skillet rather than using a toaster. Reheat leftovers in a pot on the stove, not a microwave. You get the idea.

  Some boats can produce their own electricity with solar panels and wind generators, but we’re not so lucky on Marjorie Jane. Just one more thing to add to the never-ending boat project list. Sigh.

  2 – Limited Water

  The same constraints apply to water. Even if you have a watermaker—a sort of magical contraption that turns salt water into fresh water—you still need to keep an eye on your water consumption. The tanks on your boat can only hold so much water, they could end up leaking, the water could go bad, and watermakers tend to break at the most inconvenient times.