Murder Comes Ashore

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  I made one last loop around the island and swung the cart up an alley. I popped out at Misty Park. The old underused park brimmed with cookouts. Birders brought new life to areas of the island untouched by locals. Too tired and confused to ask more questions, I parked and walked the tall grass at the edge of the park, admiring a new construction.

  In the space where an old boathouse existed for decades, until it blew up, a new building stood. Pristine windows reflected activity in the park behind me. Little blue-and-white decals boasted the windows’ energy efficiency. The new place was a hardy little white cube with clapboard siding and deep blue shutters. The roof had vertical metal slats that matched the shutters. I could practically hear raindrops bouncing off the metal during a summer storm. The new office was perfect.

  A shadow near the back of the building moved. I held my breath and prayed it wasn’t a pony.

  “Hello?” I gripped my phone in one hand and considered 911. The families enjoying the park might witness a murder. Mine or the pony’s, I wasn’t sure. “Hello?” I raised my voice and dialed Sebastian. My thumb hovered over the green call button. “Answer me or I’m calling the sheriff.” Please don’t be a killer or a pony.

  Karen Holsten stepped out, pulling the strap on her giant leather hobo over one shoulder. Her dark wash jeans and black tunic looked contrived on the woman I’d only ever seen in pastels.

  I scoffed. “What are you dressed up for? Is it Halloween already?” I narrowed my eyes on her bag. “Why are you lurking around this place? Beau finally come to his senses and kick you out?”

  “Funny.” She didn’t look amused. “Is there a law against admiring a new building in this town? Adrian Davis better keep you far away from this one. I hear you’re not having a good week if you haven’t blown something up.” She wiggled her fingers in the air and sashayed away, swinging her tiny hips and flaunting her infant-sized waist.

  Yep. I hated her.

  Once she’d disappeared in her Saab, I stood on the new doorstep and pressed a palm against the pretty blue door. A set of rectangular windows ran across the top at eye level, but it was hard to see inside. The aluminum was cold and smooth against my palm. I couldn’t resist trying the metal knob, which turned under my hand. The door swung easily on its hinges, welcoming me inside. The switch beside the door had a dimmer. Fancy. The giant room smelled of sawdust. Rough wooden sub-flooring echoed under my feet. White electrical wires ran through exposed wall beams around the perimeter. Hanging lightbulbs screwed directly into sockets in the exposed rafters. I climbed a step ladder and twisted a lightbulb on. With no walls to break apart the space, the room felt large. I imagined variations of furniture and wall art. The possibilities for my new office were endless.

  The back door opened onto a white vinyl deck with four folding lawn chairs. A blue cooler and a tool belt lay against the wall. A big box filled with trash sat beside the door. Disposable coffee cups dotted the top. I made a mental note. Bring the workers apple fritters in the morning. A little hibachi between two chairs nearly went unnoticed. I lifted the lid and found matches. My tummy growled.

  I jumped when my phone buzzed to life and scanned the area for Sheriff Fargas. I wouldn’t put it past Karen to go directly to the police station to turn me in for breaking and entering. Did it count if the door was unlocked?

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. It’s Melinda. I’ve meant to call you since the school thing. I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t know they’d go off topic. Please don’t think I had anything to do with it.”

  “I never considered it.” I pushed a stick through the hibachi ashes. “Just another day in the life.” I laughed and she sighed.

  “Okay. Then we’re good?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I also want to thank you for giving Claire my number. I’m having a great time planning this dinner for Adrian. Missy and I’ve made lunch plans twice a week to go over details. It’s nice having a purpose beyond diapers.”

  “What are you doing right now?” I asked on a whim.

  “Watching Gigi chase fireflies. The boys are with their dad at the football game.”

  “I’m on the deck of my new office. You guys want to come over for s’mores or a hotdog? I can make a trip to the grocery store and meet you here in half an hour.” I really wanted to show off the place and I wasn’t ready to leave. I walked through the building again, looking for safety hazards. The workers kept a tight ship. No nails or power tools lying around.

  “We’d love to. Stay put, though. I have everything we need in my kitchen.”

  Ten minutes later, Melinda oohed and ahhed with me over the big empty room. We opened the only closed door and admired the unfinished bathroom. None of these things distracted Gigi from the handful of fireflies lifting up from the lawn in a beautiful reverse cascade. They floated in the air just beyond her reach and fascinated her. Her belly laughs and toddler giggles enchanted me as she ran big goofy circles through the grass, hoping to catch one.

  We turned a box upside down and dragged it onto the deck to serve as our dinner table. I arranged the picnic gear and Melinda stayed on the front step watching Gigi.

  “You guys didn’t want to see the game?” I called through the open back door and empty space between us.

  “Gigi hates being still. She’d never last in the bleachers.”

  I adjusted the grate on the tiny grill and dumped in the charcoal. I held the lighter fluid in the fading light and squinted at the directions. Contrary to local opinion, I’d never made a fire. I pointed the bottle at the briquettes and squeezed. So far so good. Matches, I understood. I pinched one off and dragged it over the black strip on the box. Instantly a little orange flame flickered to life, sending fingers of sulfur into the air.

  “Uh-oh. Gigi finally noticed the kids on the swings in the park.” Melinda sounded exasperated.

  “Well. They may have swings, but we’ll have toasted marshmallows in a few minutes.” I dropped the match into the grill and my world lit up.

  Whoosh!

  My eyes batted against the brilliant yellow spots. I pressed my palms against my face and stumbled back, profanity spurting from my lips.

  “Patience!” Melinda’s voice was beside me. “Sit.”

  I slunk to the ground and prayed I wasn’t blind.

  I could hear Melinda move away, and then her footfalls drew near and something cool and wet touched my cheek. “Press this to your eyes. Stop grinding your palms against them. Can you stand?”

  I nodded and obeyed.

  “Come on.” She led me by my elbow through the building and spoke aloud. “Where the boathouse was. Yep. It’s unlocked. We’re leaving the fire. She needs to see a doctor.” I assumed she was on the phone or had lost her mind. Gigi babbled endlessly at her side.

  I stumbled over my feet a few times before bumping into something. Melinda shoved me aside. A car door opened. “Watch your head.”

  I ducked and slid in with my eyes closed. Mostly because they wouldn’t open again. “I think my eyelashes melted together.”

  “I think you’re as red as a lobster and missing your eyebrows. What is it with you and fire?” Buckles snapped and doors shut. “My husband’s on his way to make sure the fire’s out. It should be contained in the grill until he gets here. You need to see someone now.”

  The car wheeled away from the curb, tossing me into the door. “What did you say?”

  “About what?” Melinda asked.

 
“The fire. You said ‘What’s with you and fire?’”

  “Sorry. I’m crabby. The worst injury I’ve dealt with fit under a Band-Aid.” The car swerved and bounced over something.

  “Karen Holsten said something similar when I got there tonight. I caught her lurking in the bushes.”

  “Karen was there?” The car stopped abruptly, knocking forward before resting back. “We’re at the ER. I’m waving to an orderly. He’s wheeling a chair this way.” Karen’s door popped open, dinged, and slammed shut. A moment later, my door opened. Melinda pulled me to my feet. “This is Patience Price. She lit a fire in a grill and it went up like an atom bomb...” Something pressed against the back of my legs, knocking me off balance. “Sit. I’ll park the car and come and check on you in two minutes. Who should I call?”

  “No one unless they admit me.”

  The chair rolled away with me in it. A man assured me I was in good hands. Rolling through the automatic doors, I listened for familiar sounds. Voices. Televisions. Shuffling papers. Everything seemed right. Aside from the fact my eyes were melted shut.

  “This way, Jeff.” A woman’s voice redirected our path.

  “The doctor’s on her way. Can I get you anything?” The woman again.

  “A mirror?”

  She giggled. “Here she is now.”

  “Ah, we meet again.”

  The familiar voice prompted a smile on my sore face. “How have you been, Dr. Marshall?” Her strong New England accent was the only one at our hospital as far as I knew.

  “Good, unlike you. Another fire?” Paper shifted. “And this chart says you were here last week for a neck injury.” She pressed something cool to my back—a stethoscope, I assumed. “Breathe.” Her hands sought my pulse and she slipped a blood pressure cuff over my arm.

  “Well, your vitals look good.” A pen scratched on paper. “Have I told you I met someone?” Her cool hands worked over my chin, jaw and cheeks. “The skin here is irritated, not burnt. Let go of the cloth.”

  I dropped my hands into my lap and she removed the cool compress Melinda had given me for my eyes. Dr. Marshall had healed me a few times in the past three months. She was beautiful in the intimidating way that kept good men at bay. Also, her long hours at work and her clinical approach to romance made dating rough.

  “Stand up. Do you feel the bed here? Go on.” She helped me onto the examination table. “Lie back. I met him at a conference on the mainland where I spoke about skin cell regeneration and he broadcast the event in a podcast. He’s a network engineer. Computers. Very smart. He’s fun, handsome and far enough away not to care about my long hours. We can’t get together often anyway, thanks to the commute.”

  She snapped on a pair of gloves and squirted something against my eyes. The world appeared blurry, but visible again. Dr. Marshall pried each lid open wide and dropped something onto each eyeball. I blinked like a maniac.

  “Follow this light. Good. How many fingers?”

  “Two.”

  “Good. Any pain when you follow the light?”

  “No.”

  She pulled a sample pack of Tylenol from her doctor-coat pocket. “Take these for discomfort. Use as needed. Rest. You know the drill.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. This visit’s on me. Get a ride home. Don’t drive. Oh, and stay away from fire.”

  She walked out of the exam room on the click clack of heels and I stared at the ceiling. My phone rang. I blinked at the blurry number on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Melinda called the station. How are you?” Sebastian.

  Relief washed through me. “Red.”

  He huffed. “I talked to Karen Holsten. Melinda told me you found her lurking before the incident. I put her in the interrogation room and threatened her with a bunch of crimes. Some weren’t even real. She’s waiting for her one phone call right now.”

  “Did you arrest her?” My voice hit an all-time high.

  “No. I will if you want to press charges. She admitted to tampering with the grill. There was already a ton of starter fluid in there before you added yours. She didn’t expect you to show up. She thought it’d be funny if word spread about another fire at your office. She’s devious and apparently stupid. She could’ve burnt the whole place down or permanently injured the person who lit the fire.” Frustration soaked each word. “She should be arrested for arson.”

  Were there charges for adding lighter fluid to a cold grill? “Wait. If you didn’t arrest her, why’s she waiting for a phone call? Why doesn’t she leave?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know. I’m watching her through the two-way mirror and she hasn’t even tried her cell phone. After she admitted her crimes, she asked for her phone call. I walked out. When I shut the door behind me, she stayed.”

  “She’s not the brightest. How long will you leave her there?”

  “I’m not going back. She’s free to go. No one told her to stay or not to use her phone. Do you want to press charges?”

  “No. I’ll get her back.” So many possibilities.

  “I have to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “’Kay. Are you coming to get me?”

  A commotion in the lobby distracted me from his answer. My parents rushed into the little exam room like banshees, bringing with them a dizzying wave of bleach and antiseptic.

  “Melinda called.” Mom hugged my head to her chest, smashing my hand and cell into her bosom. Dad hovered behind her.

  “Gotta go.” I scraped the phone from my ear and disconnected.

  “How do you feel?” Dad spoke each word like a sentence.

  “I burned the eyebrows off my face. Other than not-so-pretty, I’m fine.” Albeit little disappointed Sebastian couldn’t spare enough time to pick me up.

  “Darling, you’re always pretty.” Mom hugged me again. “Come on. We’re here to drive you home and tuck you into bed. We promised Sebastian we’d look after you until he gets there.”

  Jeez. How many phone calls took place on my behalf while I was here?

  I scanned blurry faces in the lobby. “Did you see Melinda?”

  “We sent her home. She said she’d call and check on you tomorrow.”

  They loaded me into the passenger seat of their blue-and-white love bus. Dad buckled my seat belt for me and climbed in back. Mom took the wheel.

  “Our stint in the slammer gave us a new perspective.” The bus rolled forward at a crawl. “We hated knowing you could be hurt or sad and we wouldn’t know. We vowed to keep a closer eye on you if we got out.”

  Oh boy.

  “Yep. We signed up for the free CPR and first aid courses at the community center.” Dad patted my shoulder.

  Because keeping an eye on me required medical training. “Awesome.”

  “Can we get you anything on the way home?” Mom turned onto Main Street and a lady with a walker pulled ahead of us.

  “You can drive the speed limit. I won’t break.”

  “You hurt your neck last week. What if we had an accident with you in the car?” Mom decreased our speed by another mile per hour.

  I blinked long and slow. “I need a T-shirt that says ‘My Life is Bananas.’”

  Mom stroked my hair with one hand and steered with the other. “Ah, honey. You need to take better care of your chakras. Have you read the feng shui book I left on your table?”

  I rested my forehead on the cool glass of the window and counted to ten.

&nb
sp; Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sebastian relieved my parents of babysitting duty around eleven. He retrieved the Pony Cart and offered me a sponge bath, which I regretfully declined. He then requested a sponge bath for himself as reward for retrieval of my cart, which I also declined. Regretfully. Until I decided whether my night with Sebastian was a mistake, I’d stick to only bathing myself.

  The skin on my face was pulled tight enough to make Hollywood jealous, and my eyes looked like day two following a face lift. I slept in a Zorro-like ice mask. Mom kept it in her refrigerator and promised it alleviated puffiness. She further promised the herbs infused inside the mask healed and rejuvenated. Her mask was my new best friend.

  I awoke feeling amazing, despite my recent ER visit, snapped the mask off my eyes and followed the intoxicating scent of morning coffee to my kitchen. Adrian smiled from the couch. “Morning, sunshine. I get the day shift.” He raised a mug in a Cheers-style greeting.

  I ignored him and shoved a mug under the Keurig. I tossed the little eye mask into my freezer for later.

  “Paper says you tried to burn my new building down last night.” He shook the newspaper in his hand. “They’re calling you the Crazy Counselor of Chincoteague.”

  I scoffed and shuffled to the couch. “Lies.”

  “You’re right. They nailed Karen for her involvement and made you a hero for not having her arrested. This election is officially locked.”

  I squinted at him. “She needs punishing.”

  “Agreed. Any new leads on the case?” Adrian swung his feet onto my lap and I shoved them off.

  “Yeah. I think Jennie McIntyre’s guilty of more than resume fixing. Some birders saw a woman arguing with Mr. Trent on his rig. Another birder saw a woman loading white containers onto a little white boat. I have a hunch Mark was framed. I’m making another trip to Jennie’s office before she leaves town.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Adrian’s voice hitched with alarm.