Deadman's Float

by Christy Barritt

  “What about the dog?” Serena asked, looking at Cassidy.

  Cassidy knelt down and rubbed the dog on his head. “I can call animal control to hold him until we locate his owner.”

  Despair washed through Serena. This poor dog could not be put in the dog pound. It seemed like an atrocity to even think about it. Sprinkles was just too good for that.

  “He can stay with me,” Serena announced.

  Cassidy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Don’t you have an ice cream route to do today?”

  “Sprinkles is a great dog. I’m sure he’ll stay in the ice cream truck without any problems.”

  “Sprinkles?”

  Serena shrugged. “It just seemed like an appropriate name.”

  As if to agree, Sprinkles barked up at her and wagged his tail.

  “I can see that. If you’re sure you’re okay with it, then you can keep the dog. If anybody calls about him, I’ll let you know. Sound good?”

  Serena smiled as she looked down at the dog. “Sounds great. Now, do you mind if I get back to my route?”

  “Go right ahead. I’ll call if we have any more questions.”

  Serena nodded and walked back to Elsa. She patted her leg again, and Sprinkles jumped into the truck beside her. She briefly wondered if this was against some kind of FDA standard, but she decided to ignore that question. All the ice cream in her freezers was prewrapped, so they should be fine.

  Sprinkles sat in the passenger seat beside her, staring out the window with his tongue wagging.

  “Are you thirsty, boy?”

  The dog barked back at her.

  Serena found a bowl left over from the time she’d done a special on banana splits. She took her bottle of water and poured some into the bowl. Sprinkles lapped at it until the container was dry.

  “All right, let’s get going,” Serena announced.

  She kind of liked having someone to talk to on her route. It beat talking to herself. She did that too, but people thought that was a little strange. Talking to Sprinkles was just another way of pretty much talking to herself but looking like she had more sanity intact.

  “Maybe if we ride around, we’ll find your owner.” She put the truck in Drive.

  Sprinkles barked, almost as if he understood what Serena had said.

  As she pulled onto the next street, she kept her eyes open for any sign of someone searching for a dog. This was another one of those streets that usually didn’t offer much business. But there were six houses down here, and a few of them were weekly vacation rentals, if Serena remembered correctly. Two of them were small cottages, two were midsize houses that were up on stilts, and two were newer builds, three stories high with swimming pools. It was an eclectic mix of everything here.

  Her neighborhood in Michigan, where she had grown up, had a homeowner’s association, and everything was always neat. All the houses had been uniform. Maybe some people liked how expected that was, but Serena much preferred the uniqueness of this area. There were so many personalities that fit together, even on the same street. She thought it was a good reflection of life.

  Then again, she did dress as a different character every day, so maybe that was just unique to her.

  Elsa seemed to be stuck on “Boom, Boom, Ain’t It Great to Be Crazy?” and the song played in a loop. Even though Serena kept hitting fast forward, she knew it did no good. Elsa played what she wanted to play. It had always been that way.

  Serena stuck her head out the window again and yelled her sales pitch to anybody who might be listening. “Ice cream sandwiches! One for one dollar or five for five dollars!”

  As Serena pulled up to one of the midsize houses, a man stepped out and waved her down. He was probably in his thirties, with a prematurely fading hairline, a sun-kissed nose, and a lean build.

  She stopped her truck and turned to him, putting on her sales lady smile. “Good day! Isn’t it lovely here in Lantern Beach?”

  She never got tired of saying that. Partly because the words were true. There was something about this island that she adored. She had to admit also that she’d practiced saying that line in the mirror over and over again, trying to perfect her sales pitch and smile.

  “Look at that dog,” he said. “He’s a cutie.”

  Almost as if Sprinkles understood, he trotted across the seat to the window and happily accepted a head pat from the man.

  “Do you, by any chance, recognize him?”

  The man squinted. “No, I can’t say I do. Is he lost?”

  “I found him wandering around the next street over. I’m hoping I might find his owner.”

  He glanced up and down the lane. “I think all the houses here were full this past week. I know a couple of families were staying at that yellow house.” He nodded to the big three-story residence across the street. “I’m trying to remember if I saw a dog with them.”

  “While I’m here, I guess it can’t hurt to ask around, right?”

  “No, I guess it can’t.”

  “Before I do that, would you like something?”

  “I’m not feeling like an ice cream sandwich, but I will have a Bomb Pop. Do you have any of those?”

  “I sure do.” Serena climbed into the back, handed him the popsicle, and he paid.

  Then she put her truck in Drive again. But, instead of heading down the road, she pulled into the driveway across the street. This wasn’t on her schedule. If she didn’t bring in a certain amount of money per week, it was hard to pay her bills. The island had experienced a blackout a couple weeks ago, so she was still playing catchup.

  Despite those hang-ups, she climbed out of the truck and approached the big, yellow house. Sprinkles followed on her heels. As they walked toward the stairs, the man who’d just bought the Bomb Pop jogged to catch up with her.

  “Need some help?” he asked. “I’m assuming you’re looking for the dog’s owner.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t really need help, but she supposed the man was just trying to be nice. “Sure.”

  “I have to admit, I’m kind of curious about what the inside of this house looks like. The people who were staying here last week had a tendency to stay up late blaring music and playing in the pool.”

  “The good news is you should have some new neighbors checking in later today, right?”

  “That’s right. I’m here for two weeks myself—just me and my surfboard. It’s a beautiful place to find some Zen.”

  “It is,” she said. “I’m Serena, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Lawrence Hollingshead. My friends call me Lawie.”

  They climbed the front steps to the place. Like many of the homes in the area, it was raised high on stilts to avoid damage from the floodwaters that were common to the area. Decks stretched around each story of the house, and Serena knew that the sunset views had to be astounding.

  She rang the doorbell, but no one answered. There were no cars in the driveway either, so there was a good chance last week’s renters had already gone. This place could very well be empty right now, waiting for the cleaning crew between visitors.

  “Wouldn’t it be horrible if someone left to go home and didn’t realize they’d forgotten their dog?” Serena frowned at the thought of it. People’s pets became like family to them.

  “If that was the case, then they weren’t very good dog owners.” Lawrence shrugged. “But it still seems sad. Poor guy.” He rubbed the dog’s head as they lingered in front of the door.

  “You didn’t see the family leave?” Serena clarified.

  “I didn’t,” he said, his voice having a touch of surfer twang. “But I’ve been at the beach for most of the morning.”

  “Let me make sure that nobody’s in the back.” Serena started around the deck, double-checking that this place was clear.

  As she reached the back of the house, she glanced down at the swimming pool below.

  She gasped.

  A man was in the pool.

  Floating facedown.
>
  And looking very dead.

  Chapter Two

  Serena saw the disbelief in Cassidy’s gaze as the police chief stared at her as they stood on the deck where Serena had first spotted the dead body.

  “So you just happened to wander up onto the deck of this house and just happened to see the dead body in the pool?” Cassidy asked.

  “That’s correct.” Serena hugged Sprinkles closer. She’d never thought of herself as one to need a comfort blanket, but right now she could use all the puppy love she could get.

  Still looking a touch perplexed, Cassidy looked back at Lawrence. “And who are you again?”

  The man’s face looked paler than it had earlier. “I’m Lawrence Hollingshead. I’m staying across the street. When Serena told me about the dog, I thought I would try to help her find the owner. Never expected this.”

  “Chief, look what I found,” Officer Braden Dillinger called from the pool deck below.

  Serena glanced down at what he held . . . a shoe.

  A shoe that matched the one Sprinkles had been carrying earlier.

  Serena held her dog even closer.

  Part of her knew she should leave right now, that as soon as Cassidy cleared her to go, she should. But the other part of her needed answers. She needed to know what happened to the man. There had been blood on the shoe Sprinkles found. That seemed to indicate that there was more to this than an accident. In Serena’s unstudied estimation, at least.

  “Did you ever speak to your neighbors who were staying here?” Cassidy asked Lawrence.

  “No, I didn’t. We would nod and say hello to each other when we passed. Then again, I’m not even 100 percent sure that guy was one of the people renting this place. There were probably fifteen people in this house, so many that it was hard to tell one person from another. I’m guessing the rest of the crew left early this morning while I was at the beach.”

  “Today is checkout day so that is a possibility,” Cassidy said. “Maybe we can ID him from his prints, or, if we’re lucky, he’ll have a driver’s license on him. We’ll call the management company also and find out the name and contact info of the person listed on the rental agreement.”

  Serena glanced down. Another officer pulled the dead body out of the water. As he did, a faint red line appeared in the water and then on the cement beside the pool.

  A gunshot wound? Serena didn’t think so. The rip in the man’s shirt seemed to indicate a knife had sliced it. More blood seeped through the man’s clothing, seeming to indicate the wound was deep.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be seeing this.” Cassidy moved in front of Serena to block her view.

  The woman had always treated Serena like a younger sister. But, deep down inside, Serena knew the two of them had a connection. Cassidy had actually owned Elsa before she’d sold the ice cream truck to Serena.

  “I’ll be fine,” Serena said.

  “I don’t think we need anything else from you. You can go, and we’ll call you if any questions pop up.” Cassidy turned her gaze to the man beside Serena. “Lawrence, I’m going to need some contact information from you as well.”

  Lawrence nodded, still looking pale, but he rattled off what she needed.

  With one more glance at the scene, Serena stepped away. Maybe it was better if she didn’t keep looking for Sprinkles’ owner. Besides, his owner could be the dead guy.

  And if he wasn’t . . .?

  Serena leaned down and rubbed the dog’s head.

  Right now, Sprinkles felt safer with Serena. And Serena felt safer with Sprinkles.

  An hour later, Serena barged into the newspaper office, which also happened to be the home of Ernestine Sanders, the Lantern Beach Outlook editor. In small towns like this, real estate came at a premium, and it was more economical to run the online paper from her home.

  “The story is mine,” Serena announced.

  “Story?” Ernestine looked up from the desk she’d set up in an old sunroom and stared at Serena, purple glasses perched on the end of her nose.

  The woman was in her early sixties with salt-and-pepper hair that was cut in a neat bob. Her face was smooth and relatively wrinkle free, and she favored wearing linen pants with flowy shirts.

  “There was a dead body found at one of the vacation rental houses here on the island. He was in the pool, and he had some kind of wound in his chest.”

  As if to affirm her story, Sprinkles barked beside her.

  “A dog?” Ernestine’s gaze went from Sprinkles back up to Serena, her eyes widening with confusion.

  “It would take too long to explain right now. Can I please cover this investigation?” Sometimes Ernestine liked to keep the big stories for herself and made Serena simply do the footwork for her.

  Ernestine frowned. “There’s something I think you need to know.”

  “Okay. But first, can I? Please?” All she wanted was an answer.

  “No, it’s actually—”

  “I can’t tell you how much I want to do this. I was close to this crime scene, Ernestine. I can follow the story.”

  “Serena, I’m trying to tell you that—”

  The next instant, Serena saw somebody walk toward them from the other room. Her entire body tensed. She had halfway expected it to be Clemson, Earnestine’s “friend” and the town’s doctor/medical examiner. Everybody knew there was more between the two than simple friendship.

  But, instead, a strange man stood there. He was on the shorter side, but fairly broad, with wire-frame glasses and short, light-brown hair. He had a bit of a nerd vibe, but not necessarily in a bad way. More like, in a smart way.

  “Who are you?” Serena blurted, still eyeing him.

  Part of her felt protective of Ernestine. The woman had agoraphobia and rarely left her house. That meant that Clemson and Serena were two of the few people she regularly interacted with. Strangely enough, Elsa’s first owner—not Cassidy but the person before her—had actually been Ernestine’s best friend.

  “Serena, if you would let me talk . . .” Ernestine stared at her, obviously used to her antics.

  Serena realized that she had been blathering and maybe even a touch rude. She started to defend herself but instead clamped her mouth shut. She should stop while she was ahead.

  “Serena, this is my nephew, Webster Newsome.”

  Serena glanced at the man as he nodded at her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He was probably her age or a few years older. Twenty-six max.

  “Nice to meet you, Webster,” Serena said, getting the formalities out of the way.

  “You too.” His voice sounded deeper than Serena had expected.

  “Webster is . . . the new newspaper editor.”

  Serena blanched, certain she hadn’t heard correctly. “New editor? What do you mean? You’re the editor.”

  “I think it’s time for me to hang up my hat and retire,” Ernestine said. “We need some new blood.”

  “So you hired this guy?” Serena blurted. “He doesn’t know anything about the island.”

  “Serena—” Ernestine started, her eyelids drooping with possible exhaustion.

  “I’m serious. How can someone be editor here if they’re not even familiar with how this place operates?”

  “Need I remind you that you were new here at one time too?” Ernestine’s eyebrows shot up as she waited for Serena’s response.

  Serena crossed her arms, not ready to agree with Ernestine yet. Instead, she turned toward the newcomer. “What does he even know about the newspaper business?”

  “I actually interned at The New York Times, and I worked full-time as a reporter for three years in DC. I later became an assistant editor in Richmond for two years, and then I decided I was ready for a change.”

  Serena tried to think of something snappy to say, but his résumé was impressive . . . unfortunately. “Well, I guess that’s a good start. But that doesn’t mean you know anything about managing the island newspaper. We have a delicate ecosystem here,
and I’m not talking about our marshes or wetlands.”

  “Serena,” Ernestine warned.

  “What? I’m sorry. But I had no idea. I figured you were going to be the editor forever and you would eventually hand the reins over to—” Serena stopped herself, feeling her cheeks flush.

  Had she been about to say herself? On a conscious level, she hadn’t even realized that was a possibility. But, maybe, in the back of her mind, she’d assumed that one day Ernestine would let the newspaper’s only reporter take over. It just made sense in the grand scheme of things.

  Serena hadn’t even had a clue that Ernestine had a nephew. The woman had never mentioned him.

  “Look.” Webster shifted, his expression full of what appeared to be well-practiced diplomacy. “I know this is coming as a surprise to you—”

  Serena narrowed her eyes. “To say the least.”

  “But I promise you that I’m going to do my best to keep the torch going that my aunt has carried for so many years.”

  “And I’m going to be here to help him and to show him the ropes.” Ernestine stood and put her arm around Webster. “I was hoping that you might be also.”

  Show him the ropes? That sounded awful. She could show him how to hang himself with a rope—professionally speaking, of course.

  They waited for her response.

  Serena shifted, feeling like she didn’t have a choice. “I guess, but . . .”

  Ernestine and Webster both stared at her, waiting for her to finish that thought.

  Sprinkles barked up at her as if he understood.

  Finally, Serena sighed. “It’s not like I really have any say in this. But I really want to cover this murder. Can you give me that, at least?”

  “I think this would be a great chance for you and Webster to get to know each other.” Ernestine offered a satisfied nod. “So, yes, you can cover the murder. With Webster.”

  Serena narrowed her eyes and stared at the man. She didn’t even know him, and yet he already felt like an enemy. He was in her territory, intruding on a space she’d earned the right to.

  She leaned down and rubbed Sprinkles’ head. She herself felt a bit like a dog letting out a soft, warning growl to let someone know this turf had been claimed.