“Your mouth to the mayor’s ears.” Sherry stood and stretched her arms over her head. “Feels good to complete a task. I don’t like the feeling of an incomplete job hovering over me.”
“What are you looking at?” Marla asked.
“Patti’s printout.” Sherry sat back down. She reached for her phone beside her laptop. She clicked on her photo library.
“Was the article that good that you want a picture of it? Isn’t it in your computer, all typed up?” Marla asked.
“A picture’s worth a thousand words. The important issue at hand is, what should we do for dinner on your last night here?”
“I’m taking you out to dinner. You’ve been so kind to host me, I want to treat you to a seafood extravaganza. Lobster, shrimp, scallops, you name it, I’ll foot the bill. As long as you promise me one thing,” Marla said.
“Wow, that’s quite an offer. What’s the catch? Besides the fish, ha, ha.”
“Promise me you’ll find Crosby’s killer. It’s important to you, his ex-wife, his father, so, by association, it’s important to me.”
“You know I can’t promise I’ll find him or her.” Sherry’s voice softened. Her gaze shifted to her kitchen. Crosby had played a role in Sherry’s commitment to her time spent in that room. His encouragement at the inception of her interest in cooking held a special place in her heart. “I’ll try.”
“Now, how about we go find some dinner?”
* * *
“I’m going to spend the morning with Dad at the Ruggery. He’s picking me up any minute.” Marla threaded her arm through her jacket sleeve. “I’m all packed. I’ll call for a ride to the airport around four. Want to meet up at the store at noon for lunch? Want me to bring Chutney in with me?”
“Chutney can stay home. Eileen said she’d walk him this morning. I like your plan to meet up at noon. Don texted. He wants to come to your farewell lunch.”
Marla checked her hair in the front-hall mirror.
“Says he’s in town on business, but I suspect otherwise.”
“How sweet of him. He’s really trying to get on your good side.” Marla turned and faced her sister.
“Are you looking forward to going home?”
Marla lowered her gaze. “I’m ready to face our problems head-on, instead of avoiding them, yes. I’m looking forward to going home. If I keep repeating that phrase and visualizing contentment, good times lie ahead. That’s Amber’s advice.”
“Leave it to Amber to give sage advice. Hope she’s right.” Sherry picked up her phone and car keys.
“Where are you off to? Sunset Village?”
“Yes. A quick visit to have a word with Cap Diminsky, the writer of the marina fire articles.”
“What if you run into Lonnie? Won’t he be upset you’re visiting the person who may be one of his worst enemies?”
“They live in the same facility. I’m not responsible for that choice. If I see Lonnie, I’ll say a cordial hello and tell him the truth: that I’m there to see how the Community Garden board can be of assistance to the seniors. Not exactly the whole truth, but good enough to keep me honest.”
“Good luck and see you around lunchtime.”
On cue, a horn honked.
“Here’s Dad.” Marla patted Chutney on the head and let herself out.
Following her sister’s lead, Sherry added a second pat to Chutney’s head and made her way to her car, sending her father a wave as he pulled out of her driveway.
Sunset Village parking didn’t disappoint in terms of limited availability for visitors without handicap designation. On her way from her car to the main lobby, Sherry was slowed by a mini bus maneuvering close to the building entrance, which involved reversing, then inching forward, multiple times.
Once inside the building, Sherry had instant regret that she hadn’t called ahead to check the Sunset Village’s daily schedule. A cluster of seniors was gathered around a woman holding a clipboard. Sherry glanced over at the reception desk. The woman with the cane, who previously sat behind it, was putting on a puffy jacket.
“Are you here for the field trip?” she called to Sherry. “Please come sign a waiver.”
Sherry glanced around the room, hoping she could get some clarification of what was going on.
A man broke away from the gaggle of seniors and approached. “Sherry Oliveri. Are you moving in? You’re becoming a regular.”
“Hi, Lonnie. I think I picked a bad time to see about talking to the Village residents concerning their spring gardens. I should have called ahead.”
“Lonnie, they need your snack preference.” A man wearing a plaid, newsboy cap put his hand on Lonnie’s shoulder.
Sherry noted it was the same man who’d aggravated Lonnie during his cooking class.
“I know what you like, but I also know you’ll blame me if they get it wrong,” the man said.
“Excuse me, Sherry. I need to take care of this earth-shattering matter. Snack preferences.” Lonnie backed away, leaving Sherry and Plaid-Hat Man facing each other.
“You’re the woman from Lonnie’s cooking demonstration who said she judged the recent cookie bake-off.”
“And you’re the man who has a continuing running banter with Lonnie Currier.”
The man let loose a chuckle that knocked his cap askew. “That describes our relationship to perfection. The young people might label us frenemies.”
“Cap, I’m here. I was delayed driving behind a funeral procession. I never thought I’d get here on time. Where’s Lonnie?” Rachel’s gaze passed over Sherry. “Sherry? Surprised to see you here.”
“Uh, hi, Rachel.” Sherry turned her attention back to the man next to her. “Are you Cap Diminsky?”
“One and the same. I know you’re Sherry Oliveri, cook extraordinaire. You prickled Lonnie’s hide the other day at his cooking class, and I am forever grateful for the entertainment that provided me.”
“Ma’am, I need you to sign a waiver. The bus leaves in three minutes. Your help is fully appreciated, but we have to file the paperwork in case of emergency.” A clipboard was waved in Sherry’s face. “The Augustin Earthspace and Rescue Center doesn’t provide food to anyone besides the residents at this time of year, so I hope you brought a midmorning snack. If not, I should be able to beg one from Betsey.” The woman with the cane tipped her head in the direction of a rotund woman in a tent dress. “She could use to lose a few pounds, her doctor told me. We’ll only be gone two hours, so you probably won’t need a snack anyway. I just have to be mindful of our residents’ requirements. Many need to eat five small meals a day.”
“See what we’re put through here? They do all our thinking for us. We just have to show up.” Cap sighed.
“Looking out for your best interests is what we do best, Cap. You know you love us.” The woman blew an air kiss with her free hand.
Sherry’s head swiveled from person to person as the conversation progressed. She realized, all at once, that she had found Cap by happenstance, she unexpectantly was going on a field trip, she was standing next to the ex-wife of a murdered man, and she was being forced to sign away any right to sue if a mishap occurred on the trip. Sherry put her autograph on the waiver and handed the clipboard back to the woman in charge.
Cap extended his hand. “Sherry, let me formally introduce myself. Cap Diminsky. Nice to meet you. We’ll be spending the next two hours together, it appears.”
“Nice to meet you, Cap. I haven’t been to the Augustin Rescue Center in years.”
“It’s remarkable. You’ll love it. I’ve been numerous times.
“Have you lived at Sunset Village long?” Sherry asked.
“This is my third year. At first, I thought I was being put here to wither away but have come to realize it’s not a bad place after all. Three square meals a day and lots of activities, and I have made plenty of lifelong friends. Not sure they could get rid of me even if they wanted to.”
“All aboard, folks,” the driver bellowed f
rom outside the double doors.
“I told Lonnie I’d sit with him, but you’re much easier on the eyes, so let’s continue this conversation on the bus. We can be seat neighbors. Besides, he has Rachel. She comes on all our field trips.”
“Okay. Looks like I’m going on a field trip.” Sherry tucked her purse under her arm and followed Cap to the bus. Once aboard, she settled in next to the man.
“Do you volunteer at the Village much?” Cap asked. “I’ve only seen you once, besides today: at Lonnie’s cooking class, which was odd in itself, because you’re such an accomplished cook. Why would you be taking one of his classes?”
“Testing the waters. On volunteering here, I mean. Not on cooking. My time is somewhat limited right now, but in the future, I’d love to. I had an idea about using some of my Community Garden interns to teach gardening classes in the meantime.”
“Not teach cooking?” Cap asked.
He and Sherry adjusted their seat belts as the bus lurched forward.
“I can’t teach cooking because it puts my amateur status for cooking competitions in jeopardy. Rules say I can’t receive pay for any cooking-related activity. I could volunteer in the kitchen, of course.”
Lonnie, in the seat in front of Sherry, tilted back his head and rocked the rest.
“Not eavesdropping, are you, old boy?” Cap leaned forward and tapped the top of Lonnie’s head.
“Nothing you could say would interest me. Except if you said you were moving out of Sunset. Sherry, on the other hand, is quite an interesting person,” Lonnie replied.
“Oh, please. You’d be lost without me,” Cap said.
Sherry cringed. She lowered her voice. “I have to say, I read an article or two you wrote about the marina fire and the Currier family. Must be awkward now, living in such close proximity to someone about whom you penned an inflammatory article. Am I speaking out of turn? There does seem to be a certain amount of animosity between you two.”
“Lonnie’s a feisty old sea dog,” Cap said. “I was a journalist whose job it was to write about current events. His family happened to be in the eye of the storm during the period after the big fire. How do you know Lonnie and his family?”
Before Sherry could respond, the loudspeaker over the windshield blared out a crackle and a screech. “Good morning, everyone who signed up to visit the Augustin Earthspace and Rescue Center.”
“And one who didn’t,” Sherry whispered.
A man in the front row of seats raised a mic over his head. “As usual, I’m your tour guide.”
“Who’s that?” Sherry asked Cap.
“Tommy. Even though his father, a former resident here, passed away last year, he’s grown attached to the rest of us. He leads most of our field trips,” Lonnie explained.
“We’ll be arriving at the Rescue Center in a few minutes. If the driver wouldn’t mind slowing the bus down, I want to point out the beautiful Augustin Harbor on your left. The two scenic properties, the marina and the wildlife center, are neighbors. Not such a terrible detour that the bus must circumnavigate the marina property due to improvements being made to the roads approaching the harbor. I’ll use this time to point out a few of the historical facts about the marina, as we’ll be offering a field trip to the Historical Society next month to see their upcoming Marina fire exhibit. I hope to pique your interest in attending.”
“Oh no, is this a setup? Are you behind this, Cap?” Lonnie craned his neck backward to look at him.
“As much as you’d like to believe you were responsible, it wasn’t you who put the marina on the map. The place existed long before you were dockmaster,” Cap said.
Lonnie lowered himself into his seat a little.
“Take a look at the view, folks. Another reason why Augustin is an extraordinary place to live. Am I right?”
Clapping resounded throughout the small bus. The bus slowed to a crawl.
“See that man walking out of the dockmaster shed? That’s Vitis Costa, the marina dockmaster.” Tommy pointed out the window. “Interesting fact: Vitis eats his lunch every day in the neighboring Earthspace courtyard. On rainy days, he eats inside the animal enclosure wing while watching the rescued raptors get fed. A bit early for lunch now, so I don’t think we’ll see him at Earthspace.” Tommy chuckled.
“I never took my lunch hour anywhere but the clubhouse, with my walkie-talkie in hand,” Lonnie said.
“Vitis is out of his office during his lunch hour,” Sherry said to herself. “Interesting. Crosby was killed sometime around that time of day.” She put up her hand.
“I guess we’re taking questions. Yes, ma’am?” Tommy asked.
“How do boats come and go if the dockmaster is out?” Sherry asked.
Lonnie raised his hand. “I’ll tell you. There’s a way to schedule the boat traffic to provide gaps in the activity. Isn’t always popular with the boaters, but the dockmaster needs a moment off every now and then.”
“Thank you for that insight, Mr. Currier. I don’t want to burden you with questions about your past, but I appreciate anything you wouldn’t mind discussing.”
“That’s it.” Lonnie’s tone shut down the possibility of further sharing.
Vitis waved to the onlookers, as if he were a feature on a celebrity tour. He walked down the dock to the location where Don’s boat had been docked.
“Is that Crosby’s boat?” Lonnie asked.
In the seat next to Lonnie, Rachel tipped forward with her finger up to her lips.
Sherry squinted, which helped bring the boat’s stern into focus. Rachel’s Way.
“So embarrassing,” Rachel said in a loud whisper. “He said he’d change the name before I took possession. Guess he didn’t get around to it, or didn’t care to.”
Sherry bent forward and wedged her head between the seats in front of her row. “I couldn’t help overhearing Lonnie say that’s your boat, Rachel.” She sensed Cap’s glare in her peripheral vision. She glanced at him and he gave her a mild headshake.
“Yes, you heard correctly. It’s getting winterized for storage. Before we separated, he bought me the boat, which I enjoyed for years. It was registered in his name. When it came time to divide our possessions, I thought he’d be nice and give it to me, no strings attached. That wasn’t the case. Turned out he was selling the boat right out from under me. To your friend Don Johnstone.”
“Excuse me, would you mind keeping your voices down? They don’t pay me enough for a doctor’s visit to treat a case of laryngitis I might get from trying to speak over you.” Tommy let loose a hearty laugh.
“Sorry,” Rachel called out.
Sherry sat back and pondered the name of the boat Crosby was in the midst of changing to Sweet Revenge. Was that Rachel’s idea or Crosby’s? And who was the owner seeking revenge against?
“The spit of land the marina is located on was an Indian settlement up until the late sixteen hundreds,” Tommy continued. “Oysters, clams, mussels, and many varieties of fish were abundant in the shallow waters that edge up to the wetlands, once dominant in the area. Along came European settlers and out went the Native American way of life. The wetlands eventually succumbed to development, before the discovery of how vital their health was to the success of every local and migratory species of flora and fauna was made. The Augustin Marina was born in the nineteen twenties, and the area became a haven for the wealthy sportsmen and -women who summered in the area.”
Through the partition between the seats, Sherry heard Lonnie humming. He must know every aspect of the marina’s story.
Sherry positioned her hand alongside her mouth to steer her comment in Cap’s direction. “Is the fire going to be mentioned?” Sherry whispered.
“I asked that it not be brought up. I found out what the narrative would be today and made sure no mention would be made,” Cap said. “Took me by surprise when the old guy jumped in to comment on an aspect of the dockmaster job. That’s a first. He doesn’t talk much about those days.”
“Seems like there’s admiration between you two—delivered in a backhanded fashion, but still admiration. So, you two do like each other after all. At least, you’re looking out for his feelings.”
“We have a million reasons not to want to spend a minute together. In the end, we have more in common than we have differences. He’s a cranky old son of a gun, but, after his wife passed away, we nearly lost him. He spiraled so low, he was almost impossible to revive. But he’s back, as ornery as ever, and that’s how I like him. You know, I even wrote his wife’s obituary for him.”
“But they didn’t even live together. Why would he be so broken up by her passing?” Sherry asked.
“It wasn’t his choice to live apart. Ivy said that was the only way she’d remain married to him. He had no choice.”
“And Crosby’s death? How did that impact Lonnie?”
Cap opened his mouth to respond.
“Folks, we’re here. Please don’t leave any belongings on the bus.”
Cap closed his mouth. The passengers stood. Rachel took Lonnie’s arm and guided him to the aisle, followed by Sherry and Cap. Once off the bus, the group proceeded to the small theater inside the educational building.
An hour and a half later, the group had learned how to care for an injured red-tailed Hawk and start tomato plants from last year’s crop. The demonstrations were fast-paced and comprehensive, designed to keep minds active and engaged. And designed to keep conversation to a minimum. Throughout the trip, Sherry observed Rachel never leaving Lonnie’s side. Cap made an effort to check in with his Village mate a few times, only to have their interaction interrupted by the lecturer.
“Double-check that you have everything you brought with you before we board the bus,” Tommy said as the Villagers formed a line to exit the building.
“They treat us like we’re in elementary school,” Lonnie complained.
“Sometimes you act like you are,” Cap replied.
After the last passenger took his seat, the door shut and the bus rolled away.
“Mind if I ask you a personal question?” Sherry asked Cap.
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