Murder at the Marina

by Ellen Jacobson

  “I guess. But I really meant vegetables like broccoli and cauliflower. Like the ones on that list your doctor gave to you.”

  Scooter shuddered at hearing the names of two of the vegetables he’d least like to make an appearance on his dinner plate. He scooped up some of the baked beans. “Yum, these are delicious. I wonder who made these.”

  Sandy beamed. “I did. I’m glad you like them.”

  I took a bite and had to agree. “They’re fantastic. What’s your secret, Sandy?”

  “It’s an old family recipe. The trick is to add a touch of cocoa powder and some maple syrup. I bring them to all the potlucks we go to. They’re always a big hit.”

  “I can see why. Everything’s better with chocolate in it.” I batted Scooter’s fork out of the way when he tried to get the last of the baked beans on my plate. “Hands off, buster. These are all mine.”

  As I finished off the rest of my beans, I heard my phone buzzing. My boss, Brian Morrison, had sent me an email. I quickly scanned it between bites of my cheeseburger.

  “Scooter, you’ll never believe this! Brian says they’re down to two candidates for the promotion at work. It’s between me and Lola.”

  Scooter furrowed his brow. “Work? Promotion? What are you talking about?”

  I clenched my phone and glared at him. “How can you say that? I’ve told you a million times that I’m up for a promotion.”

  Sandy leaned over. “I know what you mean about having to constantly repeat yourself. Jack doesn’t listen to a word I say.”

  Scooter’s brow was still furrowed. If he kept this up, he was going to get a headache. “I always listen to what you say, Mollie. But since you don’t have a job, how can you be up for a promotion at work?”

  I looked at Sandy. “See, he called me by my name, rather than a vegetable. He knows he’s in trouble.” Then I turned to Scooter. “You know good and well that I have a job. I do important work for FAROUT.”

  Scooter leaned back in his chair. “Oh, that. I thought you meant a real job.”

  “You know what I was thinking I’d start making you for breakfast, Scooter?” I asked. “Oatmeal with broccoli and cauliflower on it.”

  Scooter blanched. “How about if we just stick to Froot Loops? I don’t want you to go to any trouble making a fancy breakfast for me.” He quickly added, “Of course the work you do for FAROUT is a real job.”

  Jack pushed his plate aside. “Well, at least your wife has a job. I can’t remember the last time Sandy worked for a living.”

  Sandy glared at Jack. The way she held her plastic fork made me think she was considering stabbing him in the hand. She scooped up some baked beans instead. Wise choice. When your husband is annoying, my philosophy is to eat chocolate. Or in this case, baked beans with cocoa in them.

  Captain Dan held up his bottle of beer. “You know what we need? A little toast. Here’s to Scooter and Mollie on the purchase of their new boat.”

  Scooter looked cautiously at me and raised his bottle. Sandy and I raised our wine glasses while Jack stared off into the distance.

  Our boat broker nudged Jack. “What’s wrong with you? You look as mean as a mama wasp. Come on, let’s congratulate these fine folks.” Jack grudgingly raised his bottle.

  After a few minutes of silent eating and drinking, Captain Dan leaned back and rubbed his belly. “That sure was some good grub, and the company wasn’t half-bad either.” Sandy gave a sudden yelp and fidgeted in her chair. I could have sworn that the captain had put his hand on her knee under the table. He pushed back his chair, stood, and looked at some kids building sandcastles on the beach.

  “Scooter, why don’t you take your missus out for a sunset stroll on the beach. Y’all can get a good view of the marina from there. While you’re off doing that, I’m going to pop by Marjorie Jane and leave a little boat-warming present for you on board.”

  Scooter got up from the table. “That’s awful nice of you.” He reached into his pocket. “I found another padlock on the boat. Here’s a spare key for it.”

  Captain Dan took the key, then shook Scooter’s hand heartily. He nodded at the rest of us. “Have a good night, y’all.”

  As he ambled across the patio, I saw Penny come up and grab his arm. Captain Dan stopped and tried to remove her hand. She tightened her grip on his arm and spoke to him in an agitated manner. Whatever she was saying appeared to be making him angry. His eyes narrowed and he pushed her away from him. The others at the table were busy talking about injector valves on diesel engines, which was not a conversation I wanted to be a part of. I decided it was time to do a little bit of investigating.

  “Here, why don’t I throw all of this in the trash,” I offered, gathering up the paper plates, utensils, and cups.

  “Thanks,” Scooter said absentmindedly, and turned back to his conversation with Jack and Sandy.

  I headed toward the trash can and hid behind some potted palm trees so I could listen to Captain Dan and Penny’s conversation.

  “You promised me that we’d be partners in the boat brokerage,” Penny said.

  “I never did any such thing,” Captain Dan said.

  “Yes, you did. And you owe me, especially after I lost all that money I put into your last business.”

  “It was an investment. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. If you can’t stand the heat, you should get out of the kitchen, as my mama always said.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You knew when you put that money up that it was a risk.”

  “You told me it was a sure thing. Otherwise, I would have never given you the money.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, darlin’. It’s not my problem, is it?”

  “I’m going to make it your problem. You better watch your back, Bob. It isn’t just me who’s livid. Ned and Nancy are pretty hot under the collar. And wait until those new marks of yours find out what you sold them.”

  He shook Penny by the shoulders. “You better not say anything, you hear me?” He pushed her back, turned, and stormed off. Penny chewed on her nails while she watched him walk away.

  I was left with two questions—why did Penny call Captain Dan “Bob,” and who were these new marks she was referring to?

  CHAPTER 4

  UNEXPLAINED LIGHTS

  WHEN I GOT BACK TO the table, Scooter, Jack, and Sandy were engrossed in conversation. “You wouldn’t believe it—there was oil everywhere, even on Sandy’s T-shirt and hair!” Jack chuckled. “Yep, those were the good old days, weren’t they, honey?”

  He leaned over to Sandy, smiled softly, and rubbed her hand. Sandy looked at him in surprise, then pulled her hand away. Jack’s smile faded, and his eyes got steely.

  “But those days were a long time ago,” Jack said bitterly. Sandy blushed while Scooter did his best to pretend that things weren’t incredibly uncomfortable.

  “So, Scooter, what about that stroll on the beach?” I asked.

  He looked at me with relief. “Yes. That would be great.”

  “See you guys tomorrow,” Scooter said as we walked toward the boardwalk.

  I glanced back and saw Jack staring angrily off into space while Sandy rubbed her hands together anxiously.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. One minute we were talking about changing oil filters and the next minute they were, well, you saw it.”

  “Do you think there’s something going on between Sandy and Captain Dan?”

  “What?” Scooter asked incredulously.

  “Didn’t you see how Captain Dan kept flirting with Sandy? I even think he had his hand on her knee at one point during dinner.”

  “I think you’re reading things wrong. Before you came back to the table, Jack was telling me that he and Sandy were high school sweethearts. They’ve been married for over thirty years.”

  “Just because you’ve been married a long time doesn’t mean you’re happy.”

  Scooter puzzled over this while we walked down t
he wooden steps from the boardwalk that led to the beach. “I can’t imagine not being as happily married to you after thirty years as I am now. These past ten years have been wonderful.” He added with a smirk, “Even if you do hog the covers at night.”

  “That’s not true! You steal them during the night and wake me up. All I’m doing is getting back my rightful share.”

  “Anyway, we won’t need covers once we sail Marjorie Jane to the tropics. It’ll be too warm at night.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m still not convinced that we should keep this boat. Do you really think we’re cut out to be boat owners?”

  “Of course we are. It’ll be fun—something we can do together. Don’t let Penny mess with your head.”

  “I don’t know. There’s something fishy going on between Penny and Captain Dan. I happened to overhear them talking, and based on that conversation, I think our boat broker is a pretty shady character.”

  “You happened to overhear? Isn’t that another way of saying you eavesdropped?” Scooter asked. “Kind of like the time you told me you happened to open a padlock without a key while you were holding bolt cutters in your hand?”

  I shook my head. “How else was I supposed to get into the storage shed behind that grumpy old man’s house? You knew as well as I did that he stole my bike and locked it up in there. The police didn’t take me seriously, so I had to take matters into my own hands. And I was right, wasn’t I? My bike was there. Honestly, are you ever going to let that go?”

  Scooter laughed. “Probably not. You’re too cute when you get all worked up.”

  “Humph. Anyway, Penny was complaining angrily to Captain Dan about how he had conned her out of some money and—get this—she called him Bob. I don’t think Dan is his real name!”

  “Sure it is. He gave me a business card.” Scooter fished in his wallet and handed it to me. “See? Right there. Captain Dan Thomas. There’s even a little anchor logo next to his name that proves he’s a certified captain.”

  “Uh, yeah. You do know anyone can get business cards printed up, don’t you? And how do you know he’s a certified captain anyway? How does this prove anything? Besides, he wore those cowboy boots of his on the boat. I thought you told me you always had to take your shoes off. Wouldn’t a legitimate boat broker know that?”

  Scooter chewed on his lower lip. “Um, I’m not sure what that was about. It’s a bit strange, but I’m sure he had a good reason. Maybe they’re orthopedic cowboy boots?”

  I decided not to press Scooter on Captain Dan or Marjorie Jane. I needed to figure out another approach to get him to sell her.

  I slipped off my flip-flops and walked down the beach, relishing the feel of the warm sand between my toes. The sun was beginning to set, its waning light glistening on the water between the boats moored in the cove.

  After a few minutes, Scooter caught up with me and handed me a sand dollar. “I thought you might like this for your collection.”

  I tucked it into my purse. I’d started collecting seashells when we moved to Florida. I’d found a number of pretty specimens, but this was my first sand dollar.

  “I think your shells are going to look great on the boat. You should start thinking about how you want to decorate. A nautical theme might be nice. But no picture windows or wallpaper, right?”

  As far as I was concerned, my seashell collection was staying right where it was—in a basket by our bed at our cottage. I was about to make that clear when I noticed red and green lights flashing on the water and moving toward the far end of the beach.

  Scooter was walking along the beach, his eyes downcast, scanning for more shells. I ran over to him and grasped his arm. “Do you see that?” By the time he looked up, the lights had vanished.

  “See what?”

  “Those lights. They were there for a few seconds, and now they’re gone. I wonder if it was a—”

  Scooter put his finger on my lips. “No, it wasn’t what you think it was.”

  “It was. I swear it was. After all, I’ve got a lot of experience with this kind of thing because of my work with FAROUT.”

  Scooter rolled his eyes at the mention of FAROUT.

  “Stop with the eye-rolling. I wish you’d take my work more seriously.”

  “But it’s not work. It’s some organization you volunteer for. You don’t even get paid for all the hours you put into it.”

  “Just because I don’t get paid doesn’t mean I don’t do important work.” I stomped my foot on the ground for emphasis. Unfortunately, the emphasis part of it didn’t work. I just ended up kicking sand everywhere.

  “I know, I know,” Scooter said soothingly after he wiped sand off his shorts. “Your work is important. I should take it more seriously. I really do hope you get that promotion. You deserve it far more than Lola.” He took my hand. “Come on, let’s find a place to sit for a while.”

  As we walked down the beach, I kept glancing over my shoulder to see if the lights reappeared. If they were what I thought they were, then the Palm Tree Marina and Coconut Cove could make the national news.

  LATER THAT NIGHT, AS we walked across the patio toward the dock, I stopped to check the buffet table. Sure enough, all the brownies I’d brought were gone, but there were plenty of salads left. We waved good-night to a couple of stragglers who were having a nightcap before heading back to their boats. I saw Mrs. Moto chasing a lizard near one of the palm trees. After she trapped it under a paw, she looked at me and meowed. “Good girl,” I said. “You sure are cute, aren’t you, with those black markings around your eyes?”

  We turned down the dock toward Marjorie Jane’s berth. I tripped over an empty beer bottle and grabbed Scooter’s arm to steady myself. The bottle reminded me of how angry Ben had been at Captain Dan, although not angry enough to refuse an offer of a free beer. I wondered why Ben was so short of money. Had the Texan conned him like he had Penny?

  By the time I reached the boat, Scooter was already in the cockpit. “Can you hand me a flashlight?” he asked as he pushed back the hatch. “It looks like Captain Dan didn’t lock up the boat. I want to have a look around here and see if I can find the padlock.”

  I reached into my purse and found the flashlight tucked beside the sand dollar and other shells we had collected on the beach. I climbed onto the boat and handed it to him. “Do you think someone broke in again?”

  Scooter shook his head. “No. You heard what Captain Dan said. That was probably just some kids. I don’t think they’d come here twice. Captain Dan probably forgot to put the padlock back on.” He pointed the flashlight around the interior of the boat while I climbed down the ladder into the main cabin.

  “Be careful. There’s something on the floor there next to your foot. Don’t trip on it.”

  I squinted in the dark. “Isn’t that one of those winch handles you were showing me earlier?”

  Scooter poked his head down. “I think so. Hang on a minute; I can’t see very well from up here.”

  While Scooter made his way down the ladder, I turned on the overhead light. Nothing happened. I moved over to the galley and tried the light in there. Nothing again.

  “One more reason to sell Marjorie Jane. The lights don’t work.”

  Scooter rolled his eyes. Or at least I think he rolled his eyes. It was hard to tell in the dark.

  “Here, I’ll trade you,” I said as I handed him the winch handle and plucked the flashlight out of his hand. As I pointed the light around the main cabin, I noticed a pool of liquid on the floor near the V-berth. I walked over and pulled open the door. That’s when I saw a foot hanging off the mildew-patterned cushions. And not just any foot, but a foot wearing a red cowboy boot.

  “Uh, Scooter. We’ve got another problem.”

  “Don’t worry about the lights. I’m sure it will be an easy fix,” he said while he examined the winch handle.

  “This is a far bigger problem. I found Captain Dan in the V-berth—and I think he’s dead.”

&nb
sp; CHAPTER 5

  EMERGENCY CHOCOLATE

  “DID YOU JUST SAY CAPTAIN Dan is dead? Are you sure?” Scooter asked as he stepped toward me, clutching the winch handle in his hand.

  “Of course I’m sure,” I said.

  “But how do you know?”

  “Just trust me on this. You really don’t want me to describe what I saw.” Scooter took a few more cautious steps. I pointed the flashlight down on the floor near the V-berth. “Watch out—you’re going to get blood on your shoes.”

  “Blood?” he asked in a shaky voice.

  I shined the flashlight directly at Scooter. He just stood there with his mouth open, staring in horror at the floor. “I think that might be blood on the winch handle too,” I said.

  He gasped and dropped the handle on the table. He was never very good with blood. Every time Scooter cut his finger, he would close his eyes and scream for me to bandage it up quickly so he didn’t have to see the blood. Don’t even get me started on the time he cut open his forehead and needed stitches.

  “Why don’t you go sit down on the couch? I’ll call the police.” I dug my cell phone out of my purse and dialed 911. While I was talking to the dispatcher, I pointed the light at Scooter. He was looking rather pale. I ended the call and sat next to him. “They’ll be here in just a few minutes. In the meantime, we’re supposed to sit tight.”

  I pulled a Hershey’s bar out of my purse and broke off a piece. “Here, have some. It’ll make you feel better.” I always keep a supply of chocolate handy for emergencies. Scooter nodded, ate the chocolate, then put his head between his hands. I squeezed his arm and passed him a few more pieces of chocolate.

  “It’ll be okay, Scooter. Why don’t I get you something to drink?” I cautiously made my way back to the galley to get a bottle of water. Waving the flashlight from side to side, I hoped I wouldn’t run across any more unpleasant surprises. I stopped in my tracks when the narrow beam of light illuminated a shiny object on the floor. Praying it wasn’t something else covered in blood, I bent down and shined the flashlight directly on it. To my relief, it was just a pink fingernail. I picked it up to examine it more closely.