The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series

by Sharon Brubaker

  “Forget it,” Sylvia said.

  Chapter 3

  The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.

  Lucius Annaeus Seneca

  Despite the heat, Sylvia made Maureen a hot mug of strong tea and handed it to her. Maureen cradled it in her hands. She sipped the tea slowly and stared at nothing for several minutes. Sylvia knew exactly how Maureen felt. A light breeze blew in through the open French doors of the living room. When Sylvia saw Maureen shiver, she rushed over to close the doors. Sylvia thought Maureen looked as though she wanted to say something, but would not or could not. Sylvia waited patiently.

  “I think I told you yesterday, that we were having some troubles here,” Maureen said dully. “But, I never thought it might come to this,” she said, shaking her head.

  Sylvia had nodded before Maureen continued, “You know we have a lot of rockfish boats that use the marina, right?” she asked. “Well, it seems they have had some people extorting them for their fish and their profits.”

  “What?” Sylvia replied astounded. It sounded surreal – fish pirates! She almost laughed. “Fish pirates!” she returned astounded.

  “Yes,” Maureen agreed. “Fishing is big business here. Haven’t you seen the ads for the tournaments? They’re professional sportsmen. Also, the rockfish have become very popular at local restaurants. You know they advertise it everywhere. It’s a steady income for many people on the bay.”

  “I just never thought of anything like that,” Sylvia said. “But, why would George be involved. Why do you believe that these extortionists killed George?”

  “George was a knight errant,” Maureen said. “He was a friend to the fishermen. If he got wind of something illegal, I’m sure he tried to stop it. That has to be it!” she said. “We’ve had all kinds of things at the marina, boats on fire, fist fights, and even drunken boaters that fall off their boats and drown. But, we’ve never had a murder here!”

  The whole idea of pirates of fish seemed surreal to Sylvia. Pirates on the Chesapeake didn’t seem real at all –not these days. She knew there were pirates on the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays in the 17th and 18th centuries, and perhaps during the prohibition, but not now.

  “Skip,” Maureen stated. “Where is he?” she asked Sylvia.

  “Probably answering questions,” Sylvia told her. “It could be hours.”

  “Oh, no,” Maureen said. “I should go and find him.”

  “Why don’t you call him instead?” Sylvia suggested.

  “Okay,” Maureen agreed and sat back on the couch again. “Okay. That’s a good idea.”

  Sylvia pulled out her cell phone and called Skip. He didn’t answer her call and she left a message.

  “Probably, he’s still busy with the police,” Sylvia assured Maureen.

  “I don’t know,” Maureen sounded doubtful. “You think he’s okay, don’t you?” she asked with worry in her voice.

  “I think Skip’s fine,” Sylvia told her again. “It truly could be hours of questions. On the other hand, I am just in shock about this. Who knew that a marina had a dark side?”

  Maureen laughed ruefully. “Unfortunately, it’s everywhere,” she told Sylvia. “When I first knew Skip, we had a worker who was taking bribes for prime slips. That was an ugly mess, I can tell you,” she said to Sylvia. “We almost lost the marina. In fact, that’s how I met Skip. My former life was in marketing, and he was seeking an agency to bring the marina’s good name back,” she told Sylvia. “No one wants to believe that marinas aren’t more than places of fun,” she added with a slightly bitter note in her voice.

  Sylvia’s phone rang. The caller ID showed Skip and Sylvia handed the phone directly to Maureen.

  Maureen had a brief conversation with Skip asking how he was, and asking where he was. She also told him that Sylvia was taking care of her at the house. She hung up the phone with a relieved sigh.

  “He’s all right,” she told Sylvia with relief, “and still answering questions while they are gathering evidence,” she said to Sylvia.

  The doorbell rang and Sylvia went to answer it. Carol was outside and Sylvia invited her in. Her usual playful smile was gone, and Sylvia noticed that Carol had a strained look around her eyes. She came in and sat down with Maureen.

  “What’s the word?” Sylvia asked quietly.

  “Nothing yet,” Carol confirmed. “The investigation will take a while, Joe said.”

  “Oh,” Maureen moaned. “This will be terrible for our business. I’m sure people are leaving in droves, aren’t they?” she pointed her question in Carol’s direction.

  “Well,” Carol said slowly. “They are leaving as they can. The police are asking everyone and getting contact information from everyone at the marina. Skip’s trying to keep the boaters as calm as possible.”

  “I should be out there too,” Maureen said. She turned to Sylvia, “We’ll need to pick up our wedding plans later.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Sylvia told her. “Don’t worry,” she assured her. There was a blip of doubt in her voice and in her heart. She hoped Maureen did not pick up on it.

  Carol did, though. She gave Sylvia a quick, sharp look. She nodded briefly and then they stood simultaneously. They walked out to the chaos that still reigned at the marina. The ambulance was gone, but several police cars remained. There was a long line of cars waiting to exit the marina. The police stopped each car, interrogated the passengers before they let them go down the road.

  “I need to find Skip,” Maureen said, a little desperately. “Thank you, Sylvia, for coming down and helping.” She reached and gave Sylvia a hug. “I’ll…I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Thank you, Carol,” she told her and put her hand on Carol’s arm before she went off to find Skip.

  Carol and Sylvia moseyed back to Sylvia’s house. Neither spoke.

  Owen rushed out of the living room after the short excited bark from Percy alerted him they were home when they opened the kitchen door. Owen immediately took Sylvia in his arms. Percy danced around them until Carol knelt down to pet him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her hair.

  “It’s okay,” she said, slumping into his arms so that he had to hold her tighter. “I know you said that because you care.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I love you.”

  “Love you too,” she said and raised her face to him for a kiss.

  He held her tightly for a few minutes before he let her go and asked, “How are things at the marina?”

  “A mess,” Carol answered grimly, “Everything is complete chaos.”

  “I thought it might be,” Owen said. “I thought it best to stay out of the way. How are Maureen and Skip doing?”

  “Maureen is in shock,” Sylvia said, “and we didn’t see Skip. Maureen went to find him when we left. She’s concerned about the ramifications to their business.”

  “That makes sense,” he said.

  “Come on in here,” he said and he led them to the living room. “I knew you missed your brunch, so I thought I could try to make up for it.”

  On the buffet was a large pitcher filled with a tomato substance and bottle of vodka and a dish of shrimp and olives next to it.

  “Wow,” Carol said. “This is perfect.”

  “And, I’ll make you a superb omelet to go with it,” Owen promised. He made two Bloody Marys with shrimp and olives garnishing each tall glass. “I found mushrooms, onions, green peppers and some good cheese in the refrigerator. You ladies relax a bit and I’ll bring you brunch.”

  “I’m not arguing,” Sylvia told him. “Thank you,” she said to Owen as she settled onto the couch.

  Owen beamed. “Marian trained me well,” he commented.

  “She certainly did!” Carol told him, “And Sylvia and I are glad she did!” Carol raised her glass in a salute to Owen.

  He nodded with a rakish grin and exited to the kitchen with Percy on his heels.

  “Well, girlfriend,” Carol
commented to Sylvia, “you have about eleven weeks to plan this wedding. The shenanigans today have dropped us back a few days.”

  “I know,” Sylvia almost moaned. “I keep telling myself it will all work out, but will it?” she asked her friend.

  She looked down at her engagement ring. It was platinum vines with diamond leaves that graced a central diamond. It sparkled in the sunlight that shone through the French doors. On her middle finger, next to her engagement ring, was a thick gold ring with a repeating symbol that made its way around the band. A friend had called it the ‘flower of life.’ It had been a final, posthumous gift from her beloved grandmother. Inadvertently, Sylvia ran her thumb against the metals on the bottom of the two rings.

  “It will all work out,” Carol assured her. “Immediately after brunch, we’ll get online and start planning. But, first,” Carol ordered reaching for Sylvia’s empty glass, “another Bloody Mary is in order."

  Halfway through their second Bloody Mary, Joe stopped by. He looked stressed and barely returned Carol’s hug and kiss on the cheek. He sat beside her with a sigh and loosened his tie. Owen handed him a cold beer.

  “Thanks,” he said. He looked at their questioning faces. “I can’t tell you a lot,” he said. “We’ve started to collect evidence and have questioned numerous people. I need some time to look at the facts and mull things over. I have the feeling this investigation will take a while.”

  “You still have your ‘cop face’ on,” Carol told him. “Relax now, you’re among friends.” She rubbed his arm steadily.

  Sylvia looked at Joe. She had noticed that in the last year, sometimes his eyes had a cold, steely look. It was much different from the warm and wonderful Joe she knew. That look must be what Carol was referring too. She guessed he had to put on a tough exterior with his job as a detective. She knew he had incredible integrity and his work was impeccable. He was sipping at the cold beer and Sylvia noticed the hard look was slowly fading from his face as he began to respond to Carol’s ministrations.

  “Welcome back,” Carol murmured.

  Her comment was so soft that Sylvia only barely caught the words. Joe smiled at Carol and squeezed her hand. Sylvia had noticed in the past few months that Joe had brought a surprising change to Carol. She was still funny, blunt with her words and full of chutzpah, but Joe brought out a softer side that Sylvia had not seen before. Sylvia loved how her friend became a mellow puddle around Joe. They made an excellent pair.

  “How are your wedding plans coming?” Joe asked, breaking Sylvia out of her daydream.

  Sylvia grimaced as Carol answered, “They’ll be getting married at the marina, but they need to find a spot for the reception,” she told him. “Once that’s done, they can order invitations. Things will fall into place if we stick to a strict schedule. It's a shame about the murder at the marina. Maureen, Sylvia and I were planning on quite a day.”

  Sylvia nodded sadly. ‘This wedding stuff is overwhelming enough,” she said. “But, poor Maureen and Skip,” she commented, “I’m hoping they’re all right.”

  “Give them a few hours for things to settle and then call them,” Carol advised, “but, back to the wedding plans a minute,” Carol ordered. “Sylvia, you’ll need to find a band or a D.J. for the reception. I think I know where you could find an outstanding bluegrass ensemble that would play for you,” she said looking slyly at Joe.

  “Oh, Joe!” Sylvia breathed. “Would you? Could you? That would be so much fun, wouldn’t it Owen?” as she turned to face him.

  “It would be great!” Owen returned enthusiastically. “Can you handle being a groomsman and entertainer?” he asked Joe.

  The light returned to Joe’s eyes as he answered, “I think I can handle it,” he told them. “I’ll ask the boys in the band, but I think it would be just fine. Let me know the date and we’ll put it on the band’s calendar.”

  “One more problem solved and one more thing checked off the list,” Carol crowed triumphantly.

  After Carol and Joe had left in the late afternoon, Sylvia and Owen went for a swim in the bay. The heat of the day had built to where the water felt refreshing and cool. The bay was relatively shallow and at low tide Sylvia and Owen could walk out past their neighbor’s pier and the water reached to Sylvia’s breasts. As the tide came in, it would lift them off their feet. They paddled about with nylon rafts to keep them afloat. A blue heron was sitting on the pier staring intently at the water, waiting for a fish. Further down the bay, they could watch terns diving for insects in the water, and a bald eagle soared high in the sky, it’s snowy, white head silhouetted against the deepening blue sky. There was a lull in the boat traffic when dusk began to fall on the bay. The light on the water changed from blue to gray to varying shades of pink and mauve as it caught the colors of the sun setting in the western sky. Boats meandered through the water heading towards their evening moorings. It was as though they were savoring the last bit of their day on the water. The lights on the boats were tiny beacons in the oncoming dusk. Sylvia and Owen walked into shore in the last dregs of evening light. They showered after their swim and went out to relax on the deck. Sylvia lit several candles and they watched the night gently turn from dusk to dark. Lights blinked lazily across the bay like a firefly’s secret code.

  Sylvia’s phone jangled, breaking up the evening’s peace. It was her mother calling about the day’s progress on wedding plans.

  “Oh, Mom,” Sylvia said with a catch in her voice. The impact of George’s death was catching up with her. “Oh, Mom,” she said sadly, “It’s been quite a day.”

  “What happened?” her mother asked concerned.

  Sylvia told her mother about George’s murder.

  “Oh, my God!” Mary cried, “How horrible!”

  She asked many questions, many of which Sylvia could not answer. Her mom expressed the same sentiment as Owen had that she was glad that Sylvia had not found the body. Sylvia repressed a small sigh. Sylvia changed the subject to the wedding after promising to let her mother know when the services would take place for George. Sylvia told her mother about Carol’s thoughts to find a place for the reception as soon as possible so that they could find wedding invitations and get them so they could be expressed shipped to Sylvia. Carol warned Sylvia that the invitations should be going out in the next couple of weeks. Her mother agreed with Carol’s ideas and her timeline.

  “Why don’t you check with the Yacht Club for the reception?” her mother suggested. “Perhaps Owen can rent a slip for the day and you can sail off into the sunset for your honeymoon?”

  Sylvia had put her cell phone on speaker and Owen chimed in enthusiastically, “That would be perfect! I love that idea, Mom!”

  “And I would like guests to light the wish lanterns as we leave the reception,” Sylvia informed them. She told her mother to check out the wish lanterns online.

  “But, Mom, we’re not members of the yacht club,” Sylvia reminded her, sobering a bit after her initial euphoria at the idea.

  “I don’t think you need to be a member to have a reception there,” Mary told them. “We’ve attended many functions from private parties, art shows, and wedding receptions. I’ll tell you what, I’ll call tomorrow and find out more information and let you know what they say. Would that work?”

  “That would help a lot, Mom,” Sylvia told her gratefully. “And, I will call Maureen to find out more about George’s services and let you know.”

  “So, we’ll talk tomorrow,” her mother confirmed.

  When they ended the conversation, Owen took Sylvia’s hand in his and kissed it gently. “Hmm,” he murmured, “Sailing off into the sunset sounds idyllic.”

  He continued to hold her hand, but got up from his chair next to her and proceeded to kiss her lightly from her fingertips and up her bare arm. The light kisses tickled and Sylvia started to giggle. Owen worked his way up her arm to her neck and behind her ear where she protested with a giggling “Stop! Stop!”

  He stopped momentaril
y to softly ask, “Why?”

  She regretfully looked into his eyes before answering, “I need to call Maureen,” she told him.

  “Okay,” he whispered, disappointment clearly in his voice, and gave her a light kiss on the lips. “I,” he said emphatically, “will go online and continue boat shopping. We’ll pick up this later,” he told her with a promise in his eyes.

  A little breathless from the kisses, Sylvia dialed Maureen’s number.

  Chapter 4

  Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.

  Khalil Gibran

  The voice that answered the phone sounded worn and weary. “Hello,” Maureen’s voice came across the phone.

  “Maureen?” Sylvia asked, not quite recognizing the voice at first. “It’s Sylvia, Maureen.”

  “Oh, Sylvia,” Maureen replied. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized again, “we’ve been caught up in funeral arrangements for,” her voice caught in her throat and she sounded as if she would break apart, “for George,” she finished slowly.

  “Maureen!” Sylvia scolded, “Stop apologizing! What’s going on with the funeral arrangements? How are you?” she asked.

  “I’m actually horrible,” Maureen answered honestly. “We are helping George’s family and paying for his funeral,” she told Sylvia. “The police want to do an autopsy before his burial,” she said, “of course, so that complicates the arrangements.”

  “What or when are the funeral arrangements?” Sylvia asked gently.

  Maureen sighed resignedly, “This coming weekend. It’s sure to be crowded, so we’re having a viewing Friday and Saturday with the service and burial on Saturday at eleven.

  “Okay,” Sylvia said before she asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

  Maureen paused, “No, I don’t think so,” she replied slowly. “Thank you, though.”