by Ami Diane
But a niggling question kept resurfacing. Why the fake gold? Why the money?
The pawnshop owner had said Arlene mentioned taking the money to the marina. But why? Was there another ingredient down there to help her with her elixir?
And then it came to Libby like a lone firefly in the darkness. She shot up, apologized to the Norwegian Forest cat, then retrieved her keys from inside the house. In no more than two minutes, she was at the bottom of Cottage Grove Lane, turning onto the road that hugged the bay, heading towards town.
She pulled into the parking lot for the marina. Overhead, seagulls called, and something metal clanged against metal as she walked to the docks. The water smelled differently here than on the beach, fishier without being putrid. The harbor stretched on either side, full of boats of all sizes and shapes.
Libby wandered the docks, searching. Then she spotted it. A sailboat with the name, Bluebirds Fly and knew it was the one.
Gingerly, she hopped the gap over the water to the deck when she couldn’t see a gangway. She really hoped her hunch was right, otherwise, she was on some stranger’s boat.
“How did you find me?” Marge’s spiky head emerged from below deck, her expression full of shock mixed with delight at seeing Libby.
“You told me about your bucket list.”
The older woman’s eyes widened, her forehead wrinkling in admiration.
Libby strode forward on unsteady feet. The deck beneath her rose and fell as they sat on the edge of the boat, overlooking the water. Her stomach was already gurgling as her inner ear went haywire with this new sensation.
She stroked the rich wood. “One of your dreams had been to sail the coast together.” Her eyes fell to the dark waters, and she wondered what lurked beneath her reflection. “She was dying, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Libby didn’t ask why Marge hadn’t told her. She didn’t need to know.
Marge stared wistfully at the flaccid sails. “I didn’t know about the boat. Only that the cancer had spread, and she was running out of time. She’d mentioned a surprise, a last adventure before she died. I had no clue it was this.”
“The elixir didn’t work?”
“No, but she was close. She needed more time.” A slow breath left the woman’s lungs. “If anyone could’ve made it work, it was Arlene. She never gave up, but I also think she knew she was going to get beat by the clock and wanted to enjoy her last steps on earth.”
The sound of the water lapping at the hull filled the silence. In the end, there was never enough time.
“I slept last night,” Libby said. “All the way through. First time since my mother died.”
Marge shielded her eyes and studied Libby. “That’s great, Red.”
Two murders. Libby had helped solve two murders. If she could do that, maybe she could find her mother’s killer. Her confidence buoying, she voiced this thought aloud to Marge.
The older woman squinted into the breeze. “But weren’t you wrong about the killer?”
“Was I?”
“Yeah, you thought it was Stacy.”
“Well, I was partially right. She did break into my place, and she did threaten Mr. Waters.”
“But you said she was for sure the killer.”
“I don’t recall saying that.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“Well, who can really know for sure in these matters who said what.”
Marge’s mouth puckered. After a long while, she said, “I’ll help, you know. Help you find out what happened to your mom.”
“Really?” Libby marveled at the woman beside her, at her fortitude and compassion. Her throat tightened. “Thank you.”
A few minutes later, they stretched and stood—as well as any two clumsy people who didn’t have their sea legs could stand. Marge’s bones creaked and cracked from the effort while Libby groaned away another bout of nausea.
The apothecary surveyed the sailboat and its mooring line still tied to the cleat. “Want to go for a spin?”
“Isn’t that what you say if it’s a car?”
“No idea. Do you want to or not?”
“Sure.” Libby ignored the way her stomach somersaulted at this word.
Marge began to free up the boat.
“I’m no sailor,” Libby said, “but I’m pretty sure there are docking procedures you have to follow. Don’t you have to get clearance from a harbormaster or something?”
Marge seemed to have chosen that moment to go deaf as she continued to putter around.
Libby’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “A small point that I probably should have clarified before agreeing to go out on the water with you, but you do know how to sail, right?”
The older potionist harrumphed. “Who needs to know how to sail when I’ve got this?” She produced a vial of green-blue potion.
“What’s that?”
Marge unscrewed the top, ignoring Libby’s whimpering protests.
“No, absolutely not. No potions. We sail like normal people.” Libby dived for the vial, but the old woman was surprisingly agile.
With a vicious grin, Marge squeezed two drops onto the deck. There was a small percussive wave that hit Libby’s chest, like the flutter of a firework, only without the sound or pretty light show.
Suddenly, the ship lurched. A wind whipped up from nowhere and puffed the sails so taut that Libby could swear she heard them ripping.
The sailboat shot out across the water, much faster than the sails could account for, like some unseen force was pushing the hull. The boat flew up the wake caused by a nearby cargo ship. When it hit the crest, it became airborne then dropped with a bone-jarring crash back onto the water.
Libby dug her fingers into the railing as she saw her life flash before her eyes. Tears caused by the wind pulled across her face, and her cheeks flapped.
In half the time it should’ve taken, Bluebirds Fly reached the mouth of the bay. The water became rougher, and Libby caught sight of the ocean horizon through the watery slits in her eyes.
Shooting out of the bay like a cannon, they tore across the open waters of the Pacific Ocean, towards a beautiful sunset while all the while, Libby cursed her new friend.
THE END
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Here is my other series:
Traveling Town Mystery #1:
Pancakes and Poison
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Ami Diane
TRAVELING TOWN MYSTERIES
#1 Pancakes and Poison
#2 The Body in the Boat
#3 Christmas Corpse
#4 Phantoms and Phonographs
PET POTIONS MYSTERIES
#1 Potent Potions