Ahoy!

by Maggie Seacroft

  “Guys. Guys. Guys and lady.” Richards was keen to get our attention over the hum of our bustling about. “I just wanted to say thanks for coming tonight and for embracing me in the group.”

  “Yeah, yeah, what do you want? A hug?” Sefton chuckled as he plunked himself down with a piece of pie.

  “Ha ha, no. I just… I’d like to make a toast. To Nat.” Richards continued.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and hoisted my glass along with the others. “To Nat,” we all said in unison and clinked glasses.

  After a moment of reflection, I cut the solemnity. “So, how do you all know each other?” I asked. I may have heard some of the links within the old gang in the past, but Tranmer was new to the poker game and I wondered how exactly he fit into the motley crew.

  Tranmer spoke up. “We all served in the navy together, more or less.”

  “Wasn’t Nat your CO?” Richards asked, then thrust a forkful of pie into his mouth, looked at me, and raised his eyebrows in delight.

  At his question, I noticed that the group became quiet and subtly shifted in their seats. If you didn’t know them or weren’t aware of the context, you might have missed that detail.

  “Yeah.” Jack was the only one to reply, and he was curt in doing so.

  “Say, you never told me your speciality,” I said towards the doctor, scraping my pie plate indelicately with the edge of my fork so I could get every last taste of the gooey cherry filling.

  “He’s a vet, kid. Lucky he didn’t have to shoot you with that cut on the head.” Junior smirked. “Great pie, by the way.”

  “Ha, ha. Seriously though?”

  Sefton interrupted. “You make house calls, Doc? I have this thing…” His voice trailed off and he started to roll up his pant leg, and I decided I’d ask those get-to-know-you questions of Stephen Richards another time.

  Jack looked agitated. “Ok, let’s get back to the cards. I’m still down a hundred bucks.”

  ✽✽✽

  When it came time to leave, though my pockets weren’t much heavier — I was only twenty bucks up — I felt richer for the experience and good stories I’d been told, even if only half of them were true. There was very little discussion of the gang’s time in the service. Some people are like that. Heck, those missions may even still be classified. I was surprised to learn, however, that Nat had been the CO for the gang. I added it to my list of things I never knew about the man and I wondered if that fact was connected in some way to his disappearance. I made a mental note to speak to Officer Handsome… Hagen about that.

  Speaking of Hagen, I didn’t consider my evening strolls with Pepper to be breaking my promise to him that I wouldn’t go out at night alone, so Pepper and I headed up Main Street for a walk before we turned in. I had no illusions that Pepper would defend me, much less bark if we were approached, but the point is that no one else knows what a goofy suck he can be.

  The walk was a festively decorated backdrop to the jumble of narrative in my mind. For weeks, a banner had been strung over the main intersection of town and, since then, twinkle lights had been added, taken out of the Christmas cache and strung to illuminate things for the well-publicized street dance coming up on the Fourth. A brief stop for a donut hole for my walking companion and we were on our way back to the marina. The stars were big and bright under a mostly moonless sky and I wondered if, somehow, Nat was looking at the same stars as we were.

  The lights were out at Aggie’s, which either indicated she was out on a date or had turned in early. The former was a safe bet. Lights were on in Bugsy’s place, but you couldn’t pay me to go back there, and so Pepper and I sat at one of the table and chair sets out in front of Aggie’s store and we soaked in the quiet of the dark night. Until it wasn’t so quiet any longer.

  That’s when I heard Bunny.

  CHAPTER 12

  It’s not as though I intended to eavesdrop. I mean, I don’t make a practice out of putting my ear to the wall or hiding around corners to surreptitiously get the dirt on people. But if I should happen to be at the right place at the right time, well then, I consider that a happy accident.

  The fact that Bunny didn’t see me sitting in the dark when she’d parked her car wasn’t my fault. And the fact that she had what amounted to a confidential chat with someone on Bluetooth, loud enough for me to hear, well that was just irresponsible. Her car pulled quietly into the marina and stopped. The sunroof was open, the driver was on the phone, and this is what I heard.

  “You sure he’s going to stay there?” an older male voice asked.

  “Oh yeah, he thinks he’s hot stuff playing detective.” Bunny giggled.

  “Ok, good. Haven’t heard from him in a few days. Wanted to make sure everything was still ok,” the man said.

  “Oh, you can thank me for that. When he’s not playing detective, he’s distracted in… other ways… if you know what I mean.” She giggled again and I just about rolled my eyes out of their sockets.

  “Well, he’s gotta stay there for a while. Deal closes on the fifteenth, and I don’t want him screwing it up for me,” the man growled.

  “Oh, no worries, baby. He’s too busy trying to be a hero and prove that that woman here bumped off the old guy.” My jaw dropped when the thought crossed my mind that they were talking about me. No. Couldn’t be.

  “Good stuff. Oh, the new Hummer’s being delivered Friday, lots of, uh, room in it, ya know,” the man said, and visions of Bunny in the back seat of a gas-guzzling SUV with some old dude gave me the willies.

  “I can hardly wait to see it,” Bunny purred.

  “Hey, uh, Brad says that woman’s inheriting some big money,” the man continued.

  What? They were talking about me! I looked down at Pepper as if he would confirm it.

  “Yeah, I guess. But she’s fat. Not his type.”

  You bitch! I sucked in my stomach, wondered since when size four was considered fat, and told myself I’d go low-carb starting on Monday. Diets always start on Mondays.

  “As long as she’s got money. I’m sick of paying for his mistakes,” the man said. “Oh, dammit.”

  “What, honey?” Bunny lilted.

  “Oh, it’s starting to rain. Top’s down in the car,” the man grumbled, and I wondered how he expected anyone to feel bad for him and his high-class problems. “Look, just keep him occupied until the deal closes and you get the bonus. I might even let him come back after that.”

  “Oh-em-gee, Bobby, does that mean I have to stay here at this dump?” Bunny griped.

  “I’ll fly you back first class each time you’ve had enough,” the man said. He offered that up too easily and I figured it must be a business expense. “Bye, babe. I gotta go.”

  “Bye, Bobby,” Bunny said, and a bloop sounded as she disconnected and rolled the wheels of the Benz toward Bugsy’s cottage, otherwise known as the dump.

  I’m not going to lie to you, I seriously considered calling an Uber to take me and my animal entourage to the airport for a few one-way tickets out of crazy town. What was I supposed to do with this information anyway? I couldn’t forget that I’d heard it. I had to talk it over with someone who didn’t have four legs and a tail, and that eliminated both of my roommates.

  However, in the time Pepper and I had been walking, it looked as though the poker game had completely disbanded and the players were back on their respective boats, tucked into their comfy beds. Tranmer was staying with Jack Junior on Jack’s boat, the Fortune Cookie, and all the lights were off in that direction. On the very off chance that Aggie’d be returning, I texted her. Where are you?

  The deal with Ags and me was, if she was not “indisposed” on a date, she’d answer right away. Otherwise, she hoped your life and death situation could wait until morning. If it was truly life and death, we’d text 911 to the other. As of yet, we hadn’t had an occasion to use it. As soon as I saw the lights flick on in her place the next day, I made a beeline for my favourite stool and the cup of coffee I desperat
ely needed after the precious little sleep I’d gotten overnight.

  “Oh, so you’re not in a ditch somewhere,” I said as I stomped through the doorway of the store.

  “What’s up your butt?” she griped from the counter where she was just putting out the treats in the baked goods display case.

  “We have to talk,” I said, and the smell of coffee pulled me to the counter as though I were on a string.

  “What’s going on? You look like you haven’t had much sleep… You didn’t have another slumber party with Bugsy, did you?” she said, giving me a toothy smile and hopeful eyes.

  “No.” I shook my head. “We got trouble,” I said, plunking myself onto the chrome and vinyl stool at the counter and bracing myself to recount the story from the night before.

  “Sounds serious. Am I gonna need my coffee spiked this morning?” she asked, squinting her eyes and wrinkling her nose.

  “I know I am.” I nodded and watched while Aggie pulled a bottle of liqueur from below the counter. She handed me a coffee the color of sand, and it smelled like Irish cream. I took a big first sip.

  “Should I sit down?”

  “You’d better,” I said and nodded.

  “Ok, shoot.” She plopped down on the stool beside me.

  I sighed. “Bunny,” I started, not knowing where to go with this and hoping I could do better than one-word sentences.

  “What about her?”

  “Ok,” I said, composing myself.

  “Ok?”

  “Last night, I overheard her speaking with someone.”

  “Oh, so you were eavesdropping?”

  “I just happened to be there. Well, here actually. Right outside with Pepper, when she rolled up and had the conversation on speakerphone.”

  “What conversation?” Ags said and took a sip of the Irishy creamy goodness.

  I paused for a minute. Though it’d kept me up through the wee hours of the morning, I still couldn’t decide if I was madder for Bugsy that he’d been manipulated into thinking I had something to do with Nat’s disappearance - or madder at Bugsy for believing that crap.

  “Where do I begin? Ok. She was talking to some older guy named Bobby, I’m guessing it’s Bugsy’s dad.”

  “Makes sense. Bob Beedle owns the place,” Aggie said and took another sip of her spiked java.

  “They… I mean he and Bunny… seem to have some sort of arrangement, whereby she is to keep him… Bugsy… here and out of the father’s hair until some deal can complete, on the fifteenth.” I turned to Aggie. “Based on what the brother said, I’m thinking it’s a land deal.”

  “Ok, well that does seem a little shady,” Ags conceded.

  “There’s more,” I said.

  She shook her head. “Girl, there always is.”

  I looked at her a little insulted. It’s not as though I was behind this little scheme. “Anyway,” I went on, “in addition to using her double Ds to pacify him, she’s got his mind occupied on another topic.”

  “Which is?”

  “Me,” I said.

  “What?” Ags asked with a contorted face she’d never have made if she could see herself.

  “I’m a distraction. She’s got him thinking I’m responsible for what’s happened to Nat. This way, he forgets about pestering his old man to get transferred back home.”

  “What!” Ags started to get up as though she were going to track down Bunny and skin her alive.

  “Just chill out for a minute,” I said and put my hand on Aggie’s forearm.

  Ags looked angry and she rarely looks angry because she says it gives her wrinkles. “No. I don’t believe it. He can’t seriously think that,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Wanna bet? Don’t you see? That’s why it seems like he’s always around. And why I found him on my boat last Tuesday, and that’s why he sent Officer Hagen to see me,” I said, looking into my empty cup wishing I’d had a refill. “And that’s why Hagen said Bugsy was an even bigger armchair detective than I am. He’s probably pointed the finger at me already. Hagen just doesn’t want to start World War Three.”

  Ags shook her head. “That piece of—”

  I held up my finger as I made my next point. “And the other night, when I was at Bugsy’s place, he was asking me questions about Nat and how I felt about things and what I planned to do with the boat and money, like he was fishing for details.”

  “And what’d you say?” Aggie asked.

  “I changed the subject.” I shrugged. “You know how I feel about the whole Nat situation.”

  Ags let out a big sigh. “What are you gonna do? Tell him?”

  “I don’t know.” In those sleepless hours from the night before, I’d experienced the gamut of emotions. First came self-pity. I felt I’d been let down by God or karma or whatever you believe in. For some reason, I thought that in this card game of life, in exchange for Nat, I had been dealt a friend in Bugsy.

  A part of me had thought that the omnipresence of the blue-eyed, dimpled one was a sign that he cared or just felt something for me. It hadn’t dawned on me at the time that the something he felt was suspicion. That he was bluffing the whole time. The next feeling I cultivated was anger. I could have marched into that cottage the night before and insisted Bunny reveal her hand. But then what? All that would do is show I’m an eavesdropper and a sore loser. No, this deserved strategy and a little gamesmanship. I finally decided to turn the tables on Bugsy.

  “I’m thinking of leading ole Bugsy a little further down this trail, just to show him how absurd he’s been.” I turned to Ags. “Will you help?”

  “Of course! You’re the Thelma to my Louise, the Ethel to my Lucy,” she said. “Of course, I’ll help.”

  “Hey, who said you get to be Lucy?” I protested through a smile and Aggie refilled our mugs with Irish coffee, while we planned Bugsy’s trip down the rabbit hole.

  ✽✽✽

  And so, for the next few days, I used my ill-gotten information to toy with Bugsy. It was ironic that making myself even more of a distraction for him had become my own distraction from thoughts of Nat and the disappointment I felt in Bugsy and things in general.

  For the next three days, Aggie and I engaged in the sport of Bugsy baiting. Whenever he walked into her store, I would whisper something to Ags and leave abruptly, except for those occasions when, of course, I wanted Bugsy to accidentally on purpose overhear some snippet of news he could misinterpret. Like the time I openly discussed an article on polygraphs and told Ags I’d never take one, or the day over coffee I asked her if she wanted to go new car shopping with me. I’d let Bugsy’s mind make the tenuous, dangerous links it wanted to.

  I even had a make-believe fight with Ags so Bugsy would commiserate with her. He conveyed to her some of his concerns about my character and, in true good friend fashion, she repeated the entire conversation to me. Word for word. One day, the schmuck even followed me to the hardware store, where I convinced Mr. Swarts to let me leave through the back door —a move that must have put Bugsy’s mind in a tailspin.

  After the fourth day, Bugsy looked exhausted from all the jumping to conclusions he’d been doing. I expected to hear from Officer Hagen, and I was not disappointed.

  ✽✽✽

  When Hagen came a-knocking on my stern door that Sunday, for the first time, I was ready. My clothes were clean and pressed, I had rid myself of all traces of paint, grime, and grit, and on top of all that, I was having a good hair day.

  “Hello. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I said, looking from Hagen to Bugsy with a phony smile for at least one of them.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute, please?” Hagen asked. Bugsy looked practically overcome with smugness as he lingered a few steps behind the officer.

  “Sure. Pull up a chair.” I gestured to the seating arrangement on the aft deck where I proceeded to crank open the umbrella to block the noon sun. The heat was going to be on one of us, and it wasn’t going to me, brother.

  “Just give
me a moment, please,” I said and ducked inside the interior of my boat and returned with a pitcher of lemonade and a few chilled glasses on a tray. I poured a glass for Hagen and one for myself. I did not pour one for Bugsy, nor did I acknowledge him. I took a long, languorous sip. “What’s up, gents?” I asked as if I didn’t know what was coming my way.

  “Alex, I’m here in an unofficial capacity,” Hagen began.

  Bugsy jumped on the man immediately. ”What? I thought you—"

  “Take it easy,” Hagen said and held up a hand for the eager Beedle to cool his heels.

  “Mr. Beedle here thinks—"

  “I know what he thinks.” I looked at Bugsy then Hagen and smiled coyly. “He thinks I had something to do with what happened to Nat,” I said coolly and batted my eyelashes for no other reason than the fact that I’d taken the time to apply mascara that day.

  “Well, did you?” Bugsy asked plainly.

  I took another sip of my lemonade, put my glass down on the table, and rolled my eyes at Bugsy before directing my attention to the officer. “Hagen, this man is nuttier than Chinese chicken,” I said matter-of-factly, leaned back in my chair, and clasped my interlaced fingers around the knees of my tan linen pants. “Did he tell you that he broke into my boat to spy on me?”

  Hagen gave Bugsy a surprised look. “Noooooo, he did not.”

  “Listen—" Bugsy spoke lowly as he leaned across the table toward me, tilting his head to peer at me around the pole of the umbrella.

  “Don’t you talk to me!” I snapped back when I locked eyes with him.

  “Hagen, am I an official suspect?” I asked, sweetening my tone once I’d shifted my gaze.

  “No.” He took a sip of the lemonade I’d poured for him. “As a matter of fact, you’ve been cleared.”

  “What!” Bugsy was beside himself. “Even after everything I told you?”

  “Yeah, I want to straighten this up right now.” Hagen moaned like he was settling an argument on the playground.