Murder Comes Ashore

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  The last time I’d commandeered a boat from Adrian’s garage, it was shot to splinters by gun traffickers. I was in it at the time. A shiver slid down my spine despite the day’s increasing heat. Adrian was livid afterward, claiming he’d have blamed himself if I hadn’t survived. He made me promise never to take another kayak from his house, a vow I pinky swore to uphold. Hence the shiny red canoe.

  A quarter mile down the beach, I slowed my pace, trying to look like I belonged. A handful of people in matching white shirts combed the beach, prodding metal rods into driftwood logs, cattails and thick grasses. My gray-and-black I’m in Witness Protection shirt stood out like a beacon.

  “Psst.”

  I jumped.

  “Psst.” A woman waved from the trees. Her yellow sun visor and matching fanny pack said less about her than the cat she had on a leash. “How’d you get here?”

  “Canoe.” I motioned over my shoulder.

  “Princess and I like to come and watch the sun rise.” She edged away from the trees to the sand. “When we headed home today, a caravan of white cars passed us, so we stayed to see what the fuss was about.”

  Princess was an overweight tabby whose orange fur lost the race against gray sometime in the 1990s, by the looks of her. The fact she walked here from anywhere was miraculous. One eye followed a crab near the water’s edge. The other eye honed in on me. I stepped closer to the woman with the leash. Wonky eyes freaked me out more than wild ponies, Chincoteague’s national treasure. If I ever found myself face to face with a wonky-eyed pony, I’d kill myself.

  A flash on the water caught my attention. The big ugly rig scientists used on occasions when they were lucky enough to secure a federal grant bobbed in the water a few hundred yards away.

  The woman waved her free hand toward the rig. “Binoculars. That’s the guy they hired to get rid of the sharks.”

  “How do you know he has binoculars?”

  She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Birders. Princess and I see that same flash of sun on glass everywhere. It’s going to ruin our eyes.”

  I gave the tabby another wayward glance. “That’s the marine biologist we ordered?”

  “James Trent from Key West, Florida.”

  Well done. “I’m Patience Price.”

  “Bernie Casper.” She didn’t offer her hand. I stuffed mine in my pockets. “I’ve seen you with that scary CIA fellow. And Adrian Davis. I hear you and Adrian were high school sweethearts.” The dreamy tone in her voice saddened me. That and the mostly dead cat on her leash.

  “Something like that.” I pictured “that scary CIA fellow” and chuckled. Is that what the island said about Sebastian? I needed to ask my mom for confirmation the next time I saw her.

  “And now you’re star-crossed lovers.”

  “No.” I bristled. “Adrian and I are friends. Kind of.” More than friends, but not lovers. “It’s complicated.”

  “Always is. Of course, Princess and I wouldn’t know. We moved here last summer. We enjoyed our vacation so much we didn’t want to leave.”

  “The island’s like that. Addictive.” I kept one eye on the crew in the distance. The beachcombers worked methodically over the sand, surf and grasses along the parking lot edges.

  “There aren’t many eligible bachelors, are there?” She looked longingly at her cat. “We might never find true love, but we have each other. Men don’t understand Princess and me. Men are mostly dog people, I think. Men who appreciate the stroke of a warm kitty are hard to find.”

  I stifled a giggle. “There are a whole slew of birders in town. I bet there’s a man in that bunch who’d appreciate your kitty.” My sense of humor stopped maturing somewhere around seventh grade.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Of course. Besides, no matter what life feels like in a single moment, there are always more things coming.” Until you’re dead. I refused to look at Princess.

  A sharp whistle blast spun my head in its direction. Fargas’s crew turned back toward their center point. From where I stood, it looked close to where Gigi found the ear.

  “I have something for your kitty.” Bernie dug in her giant patchwork bag and came out with a wrapped package. She smiled as if I’d given her the key to the universe. Her straight black hair danced around her cheeks in the wind, and steel-gray eyes beamed back at me. “It’s from Princess. We’d hoped to run into you sometime.”

  “You know I have a kitty?”

  “We know all the island kitties.”

  “Thank you.” The words sounded like a question.

  “We’re going to visit the lighthouse. Would you like to join us?”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m meeting Sebastian.”

  Her smile fell, either at the mention of his name or my pass on her offer. I thanked her again for the gift and headed down the beach toward the hoopla, moving as fast as possible without drawing too much attention. Fargas’s voice carried in the wind, commanding his troops. Sebastian moved in my direction before I recognized him among the distant figures.

  “How’d you get here?” A lilt of amusement in his tone told me I wasn’t under arrest. He stopped a foot away, successfully blocking my view of Fargas and his crew.

  I tapped my temple with one finger.

  His stance widened. Sebastian hooked his fingers into his back pockets, elbows out. I dipped my head for a peek through the little opening at his side. A woman lifted strands of hair into a big Ziploc bag.

  “Our victim’s a woman?”

  He turned his head over one shoulder. “Inconclusive. Also, not your victim.”

  “Right.”

  He dropped his arms, eliminating my peephole. “How’d you get past the guard booth?”

  “That hair was two feet long. The victim’s either a woman or a hippie.”

  He huffed. “Or it’s just hair on a beach. This is a federal case.”

  “Why is it a federal case?” I was open to any direction the conversation took. I had more questions than my mind could hold and getting information from Sebastian was like getting Mrs. Tucker’s malts up a straw. There was a good chance of a headache from all the effort, but it was always worth the trouble.

  He frowned. “Civilians aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “But I am here. You may as well let me help.”

  Sebastian pulled the sunglasses off his face and leaned forward. “No.”

  “Excuse me?” Was I sixteen? Was I his child? His property? “You can’t tell me I’m not allowed to help.”

  He’d produced his shiny Special Agent badge before I finished speaking.

  I guffawed.

  “While I’m certain you’d be an asset to the investigation, there’s nothing to investigate. It’s just an ear and some hair. I have this covered.” His stiff flat expression softened. “Please?”

  “What about the fingernails?” I tapped my foot in the sand.

  His face went slack. “Listen to me, boss. The last time you chased a lead you were attacked, shot at, bombed and nearly killed. Let me handle this. Alone. Go counsel some people—they all need it.” He lowered his voice. “There’s a woman with a stuffed cat on a leash watching us from the trees.”

  “Princess isn’t a stuffed cat. She made Freud a present.” I lifted the box between us.

  Sebastian scrubbed a giant hand over his face. “Don’t open that. Ever.”

  The team of white shirts loaded plastic bags into boxes and carried them to a line of matching white vehicles. About ten yards from us, a pair of seagulls swooped and dove into a patch of tall grass.

  “Look.” I smacked Sebastian’s arm.

  Sebastian turned to look and I darted past him. His footfalls kept pace with mine, allowing me to maintain the lead when he could easily have passed me. I wa
ded into the grasses, waving my arms overhead to keep the gulls at bay.

  “Told you I could help.” In a moment of gloating, I lost sight of the evidence. A seagull honked and dove at me. I jumped back on instinct and fell into the sand. A wilted reed of grass rammed up my nose and I screamed. Sneezing bug eggs and cooties, I scrambled to my feet and chased the offending bird across the sand. Two more birds joined him in the air and attacked. Whatever they all wanted, it was flesh colored and I wanted it too.

  Sebastian shoved two fingers in his lips and whistled. Fargas jogged toward me, a look of shock on his face. Yeah, yeah. How’d I get here? I pointed to the sky. “They’ve got something.”

  The birds circled in the air, stretching the thing in their beaks and flapping with vigor.

  “Should I shoot them?” Fargas called to Sebastian.

  A mob of birders appeared from the trees like magic. “No!”

  “What the hell?” Sebastian frowned.

  “They were probably here all night looking for owls or something.” I rolled my eyes.

  Fargas unholstered his side arm and the birders started closing in, cell phones at arm’s length, digitally capturing the chaos.

  “Do not shoot that bird!” A wild scream broke out above the other voices. A woman in hip waders and a dirty shirt charged Fargas.

  I tossed shells at the birds circling overhead. “I can’t hit them!” Frustration burst from my chest in a growl. “Stop!” I screamed at the birds.

  Fargas toppled into the sand beside me, crushed beneath the rampaging woman. Her giant binoculars bounced off his forehead and he went limp.

  “Aw, hell.” Sebastian groaned. He scooped a handful of rocks from the sand and pulled his arm back.

  A shower of feathers burst above me and a bird fell from the sky. The others squawked complaints, but headed out to sea. I ran for the grounded bird and yanked the skin from his beak. He flapped his wings and waddled in a daze across the sand.

  “You monster! You hit that bird with a rock! Murderer!” The woman climbed off Fargas and headed for Sebastian, who dropped his remaining rocks in favor of cuffs and badge. She raised her fists and Sebastian spun her around, cuffing her and reciting her rights.

  I flipped the fleshy prize in my hands, struggling to make sense of what the birds had worked so hard to keep. I tugged and squeezed the thing, looking past the damage done from multiple bird beaks. Realization dawned. My tummy lurched.

  “Ahh!” The scream that ripped loose from my chest was Oscar-worthy. I dropped the thing and ran in a tiny circle, unsure which way to go for bleach and a fast hand-removal surgery. I rubbed my palms over the seat of my pants until they hurt.

  Sebastian finished reading Waders her rights.

  A line of EMTs-turned-beachcombers surrounded Fargas. One checked his vitals. One followed the waddling bird and radioed the park ranger for assistance. We had two head injuries, six EMTs and no ambulance. I marched in big, knee-to-my-chest steps, trying not to think of the thing I would never forget. Ever. Ever. Ever.

  I covered my eyes with one hand. The one without lifelong cooties. With the other hand, I pointed to the item saved from the seagulls. “The victim is not a woman!”

  Chapter Four

  I paddled back to Adrian’s and returned his canoe. Sebastian had insisted I leave the crime scene and find something else to keep me busy. Like I was hindering his investigation instead of helping. I’d found that man’s penis without a matching white shirt or an invitation. My chin lifted a fraction as I slid into my car. Fargas’s crack team had left it for the birds.

  Tall bushy trees shaded Adrian’s driveway, leaving the interior of my Prius warm but not stifling. With the windows down and air-conditioning at full blast, I took a detour past the boat house I once called my office. Not much had changed since my last visit. My office remained sticks and charred rubble. I made a mental note to ask Adrian about his progress with his insurance company. Hopefully he had better luck with his than I had with mine. He owned the building. I’d only rented it for a month. Technically someone owed me a refund because the only time I spent there was cleaning up drive-by shootings and car bombs.

  I turned off Park Street into traffic. Chincoteague had lost swimming tourists to the sharks but gained a thousand looky-loos wearing binoculars. The sidewalks brimmed with families in hiking gear. Dads made bird calls into the wind and kids carried inflatable pink flamingos. Virginians were an entrepreneurial people. Water toys weren’t selling, but a little creative merchandising fixed that problem. Disguise them with a rubber band and a stick. Voila! Instant appeal to birding children who weren’t allowed to swim. Swim shops wouldn’t sit on stock all winter without a valiant effort to the contrary.

  A white sheep dog dragged its owner down Main Street at a sprint. The woman on the leash planted her feet and coaxed the mammoth white ox to slow down. The throng of tourists parted momentarily as she scooted past.

  “Heel. Stop. Wait,” the woman begged.

  The dog huffed, pulled and ignored her pleas until he’d reached his destination—a bright yellow fire hydrant, where he lifted a shaggy leg.

  I pulled up to the curb, climbed out and waved. “Hey, Missy.”

  The night cashier from Frontier Foods shot me an apologetic look. While the dog lowered his leg, sniffed the hydrant and tried for round two, Missy pressed her palms to her knees and panted. Her chest heaved and sank like she’d run a marathon. The dog woofed at me halfheartedly and headed for the next hydrant. I tagged along.

  “You got a new dog.” Her last dog disappeared during the summer. We’d met dozens of times while she came to terms with the loss. Despite her door-to-door efforts and a fortune spent on posters at FedEx, he never turned up. She cried her way around town for days, removing his picture from telephone poles. Mr. Tiptoes was a toy poodle. The giant she replaced him with was a literal change of pace.

  “Hey. Patience.” She squeezed her side. “This is Thor. He’s. My. New.” She stumbled along, gasping for air.

  “Brontosaurus?”

  “Ha!” She grabbed the leash with both hands and edged near the curb. At the next parking meter, she looped the handle over the top. “There!” She clapped weakly and sat on the sidewalk. The dog pulled and chewed on the leash but couldn’t move the meter. He tugged so hard he gagged and coughed up something gross.

  “I can’t lose a dog the size of a Clydesdale, now can I?”

  “Losing Mr. Tiptoes wasn’t your fault.” I thought she understood. We’d spent hours talking it through.

  Thor gave us an irritated look. A tuft of shaggy hair covered both his eyes. His giant tongue lolled to the side and hung to his knees.

  “He’s a great dog. Sees everything.” Pride filled the words. “He’s getting much better at walking on the leash. He used to drag me.”

  I looked from her bright red face to Thor licking the road behind her.

  “I’m glad you’re happy. You look great. Dog training is an effective way to stay in shape and bond with your new guy here.”

  “Do you know Melinda Crown?” Missy stretched to her feet and nodded to the nearby shops. Melinda held the door for Gigi as they left the bakery three doors down. Mother and daughter wore matching Chincoteague Chargers shirts. Supporting local schools—a mom’s lifelong charge. Missy waved them over.

  “I do. It’s nice to see you again, Melinda.” I smiled as she and Gigi approached.

  Gigi pointed at me. “Ee-aw!”

  “Isn’t she adorable?” Missy said. “I bet she misses the beach. I can’t wait for that marine biologist to figure out what’s going on with those sharks. Thor needs ocean time. Dogs love swimming.” She petted Thor’s head.

  Woof!

  “Gigi asks about the beach nonstop,” Melinda said. We barely get home and she’s ready to go back. We filled her
baby pool and sandbox this morning, but she knows what she’s missing.” She looked at me. “Have you heard anything else...about the sharks?”

  “No. Nothing.” I didn’t think she wanted the latest beach news. If Gigi had found what I found, she’d need a lifetime of therapy. “I saw the old science rig in the water today, but I haven’t met Mr. Trent yet.”

  “I hear he’s cute.” Melinda turned to Missy.

  “Not as cute as the two men fighting over Patience’s attention, I bet.”

  Uh-oh.

  “I heard you rescued Adrian from the wrath of Karen Holsten last night.” A sly smile spread over Missy’s face. Thor circled the parking meter, looking for an escape.

  Gigi wrestled in Melinda’s arms until she placed the child on the sidewalk. She toddled up to the big white beast and cooed. He dropped to her feet. “Dee!” She clapped and squealed in delight.

  “Gigi loves dogs.”

  “You should come by some time. They could play in the yard. I make a mean glass of sweet tea. Hey! Why not now?” Missy looked from Melinda to me. “Maybe we can get the scoop on that tall, dark stranger who followed Patience home to Chincoteague.”

  “He didn’t follow me.” I scanned the area, hoping Sebastian wasn’t nearby.

  “Have you seen him in board shorts?” Melinda covered her mouth with one hand. “Don’t tell my husband I said that. I barely looked. I’m not sure what came over me.”

  I had a good idea. I’d seen him in board shorts.

  “I’d better go,” I said. “I need to visit my parents and do some things.” No decent lies came to mind, and seeing my parents was a good idea. Mom hadn’t been herself the last two times I spoke with her. I turned away from the girls with a wave, but they were wrapped up in conversation.

  “I’ve seen Adrian in football pants and nothing else. That’s a beautiful sight.” Missy stage-sighed.

  I ducked into my parent’s shop, the Purple Pony, before the image of Adrian after a high school football game took root. I never saw him after college games, but in high school the view was spectacular. We celebrated in the locker room showers. His teammates covered for us. If his coach ever suspected, he didn’t let on. As a teen, I’d thought the coach was clueless. As an adult, I wondered if he didn’t want to know. Knowing would have meant losing his star player in a guaranteed expulsion. My cheeks heated to stroke level. I made supremely idiotic decisions when love was involved.