Skinny Dipping with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “Oh, shut up, Caesar,” I mumbled.

  Multiple heads snapped up in unison, mouths making round Os of horror.

  “Right.” I clapped my hands together. “Who wants to see their cabin?”

  * * *

  I spent the rest of the evening at the campfire meet and greet listening to horrible ex-husband stories and fighting off flashbacks of Dickie’s dead body. Afterward I went to bed, fell straight asleep, and didn’t have a single dream worth remembering.

  In the morning, I hustled out of bed and out the door before anyone could spot me. The retreat always kicked off with a nature hike, so my psychological expertise wouldn’t be required, and I desperately needed to talk to someone sane. I ran down the retreat steps, jumped into my mom’s aging boat, and headed out across the lake.

  Early-morning mist hovered low over the water, but the already too hot sun promised to burn it off in short order.

  As I glided over the glassy surface, I felt my shoulders relax.

  Despite all of the craziness residing in Otter Lake, I couldn’t deny its beauty. At just over a thousand acres, most people would consider it a mid-sized lake—nothing special—but for those who lived here, it was just right. I leaned with the boat as I curved its body around a familiar finger of land stretching out into the water.

  I also couldn’t deny there was something calming about the fact that not much ever seemed to change here. The cottages kept their original charm. The forests still bulged green. And the people never seemed to move.

  Yup, everything was exactly how I left it … except … except for the gigantic raspberry now towering over the town pavilion like Godzilla over Tokyo.

  I slowed the boat.

  I couldn’t let my jaw drag that low and steer at the same time.

  Yup, it really was a giant raspberry.

  My eyes tracked over the enormous red construction with the happy cartoon face.

  What the hell was that thing?

  Obviously it had something to do with the social, but while this particular town festival had always been important to the people of Otter Lake, it wasn’t radiation-monster-raspberry important.

  I spent a few minutes digesting the enormity of the berry before I drove on.

  Minutes later I pulled the boat up to Freddie’s dock. Freddie had been my best friend back in the day … actually, come to think of it, he probably still was my closest friend, and his cottage, if you could call it that, was the nicest on the lake. When we were kids, Freddie lived there with a team of rotating nannies while his parents, originally from Hong Kong, jet-setted around the globe as real estate speculators.

  He opened his door wearing a purple headscarf and a blousy pirate shirt tucked into billowing, multicolored skirts.

  Yup, given how things were going that seemed about right.

  “Well, look who the beaver dragged in,” he said, making room for me to step inside.

  I closed my eyes to enjoy the cool air of Freddie’s air-conditioning before I said, “Huh.”

  “What?” Freddie asked.

  “It’s funny. When I was walking up the path to your house I thought I knew what my first question would be, but now I’ve changed my mind.”

  “What was your first question?”

  “Why is there a giant raspberry threatening to destroy Otter Lake?”

  He nodded. “Now what’s your first question?”

  “Why are you dressed like Captain Hook’s wife?”

  It had been eight years since I’d seen Freddie too, but we still texted every now and then. The great thing about Freddie, though, was that I always felt comfortable around him. Time didn’t matter.

  He waved me in with an arm covered in bangles. “Come in. I’m working.”

  “As what? A circus performer?” I asked, following the swishing skirts down the bamboo hallway. “That can’t be right. Circus performers leave their houses. Actually, I don’t think they even have houses.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t given up my career as Otter Lake’s one homosexual hermit,” he replied, leading me to the office which I knew contained an enormous desk that faced the lake. “And you look good, by the way. I like the bangs and ponytail thing. Oh, and I’m not in the circus. Well, not really.”

  “Then what are you in?”

  “Follow me, and all shall be revealed.” He rustled farther down the hall, swirling his fingers in the air, leading me along. “And the berry? That’s Candace’s doing. She tries so hard, that girl, but on that one, she may have missed the mark. Gotta love her for trying though.”

  “Who’s Candace?”

  “Where do I even begin?” he said with a sigh. “A lot has changed since you were last home, Erica. Candace is the PR person working for the developer who would like to turn Otter Lake into a luxury cottage site for the rich and famous. She’s nice. You’d like her.” He smiled at me over his shoulder. “I even like her, which is surprising given that I’m days away from tying myself to a tree at the construction site. I mean, I’m Otter Lake’s rich people. We don’t need more. I don’t like the idea of competing with other socialites.”

  I frowned. “Why is it when people say ‘you’d like her,’ I automatically don’t like that person?”

  “Because you’ve got people issues,” he said with implied obviousness. “Anyway, they’ve been focusing on snapping up properties by Hunter’s Corners—you know, for the sunset value. In fact, they’ve already started to build on Ackerman’s old property, but everyone’s pretty worried that they have plans for the entire lake. In fact, rumor has it surveyors were sizing up Snake Island the other day, so you guys may not be the only island dwellers anymore. They’ll probably have to change the name though,” he added, crinkling his brow in thought. “Didn’t your mother tell you any of this?”

  “Nope. She’s on her own island in every sense.”

  He nodded. “Anyway, the raspberry is the developer’s way of reassuring the fine citizens of Otter Lake that change is good.”

  Once in the office, Freddie spun his slightly hefty form, and lowered himself into the chair in front of the computer. He typed a few keys then announced, “I’m back, my pretties. Let Madame Freddie reveal all the secrets of the universe to you.”

  I plunked myself on the corner of the computer desk and leaned over to see what was happening.

  “Stay out of the frame,” Freddie hissed from behind a ringed hand. “You’ll ruin the mystique.”

  “Maybe I should come back later.”

  “Don’t even think about it. You are going to tell me all about Dickie. I can’t believe you discovered his … well … his body,” he whispered, turning down the corners of his mouth and widening his eyes in exaggerated horror. “This will only take a second.”

  “You can reveal all the secrets of the universe in a second?”

  “Watch me.”

  I scooted back on the desk. From my angle, I could see at least one person was chatting with Freddie, but I couldn’t make out the type.

  “I told you he’d do it again,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “No. No. Now you listen to Madame Freddie. Once a cheater, always a cheater. I can see his energy, love.” Freddie stopped talking, closed his eyes and placed his fingertips on his forehead. “I can see it, and it’s spreading … spreading and sputtering like a dirty ol’ shower head.”

  He cracked an eye open to read the screen.

  “No. No. Don’t you be sad, sugar.”

  “You’re Southern now too?” I whispered.

  Freddie shot me a glare.

  “That’s right. There’s someone just around the corner for you. He’s tall and dark and everything we have both dreamed about.”

  “Don’t forget to tell her he’s a billionaire with an S and M room.”

  “That’s right. That’s right,” Freddie said, ignoring me. “You come back any time now, honey pie.” Freddie clicked another key and spun his chair to face me. “So? What do you think?”

  “About you be
ing an online psychic?” I replied. I took a moment to really give it some thought. “Strangely fitting.”

  “I know, right?”

  We stared at each other for a moment.

  “I feel like we should hug or something.”

  I wrinkled my brow. “I know, but I really don’t want to.”

  “Me neither,” he said, nodding quickly. “And I say that with love. Speaking of intimacy issues, though, how did it go with your mother?”

  I gave him the rundown of everything that had transpired since I had arrived. Well, almost everything.

  “Insurance fraud. Discovering impaled bodies. You really need to visit more often.” Freddie got up and walked over to the beer fridge fitted into the built-in mahogany shelves behind the desk. He held up a bottle to me, but I waved him off. He twisted the cap and took a swig. “So are you traumatized?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. Dickie wasn’t a great guy, and he definitely was a pervert.” Freddie nodded his head in agreement. “But I’ve known him forever. It wasn’t nice what I saw. I want to unsee it.”

  “I hear you. It’s sad, but also it’s hard to really feel bad for the guy. He was such a jerk in high school. Remember that time they locked me up in that cage thingy on wheels with all the dodge balls? And then rolled me out to the parking lot?”

  “I remember.”

  “But then you came to find me,” he said, crossing his hands over his heart, “and we put all the balls in Tommy’s truck.”

  I smiled at the memory. “Yeah, they all rolled out onto him when he opened the door.”

  “I think Tommy was always just a little bit afraid of you. Must have been the bite back in the first grade.” Suddenly he slapped the desk. “You know who you were like? Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer! Always making sure Santa found a place for the misfit toys … a place for everyone but you.”

  I furrowed my brow.

  “What? Rudolph’s cool,” he said. “And you know, in some ways, those three, now two, have just gotten worse. Lately, they’ve been tearing up the lake with Tommy’s new boat. Totally obnoxious stuff.”

  “Really?” I suddenly remembered my senior class standing on the gymnasium stage for graduation. I bet none of us imagined our futures turning out quite like they had. “That’s so sad on a lot of levels.”

  “Yup,” Freddie replied. His eyes were distant for a moment before snapping back into focus. “And what about Grady? Was he there?”

  “Grady who?”

  “That’s cute. Grady who.” He smiled over the spout of his beer. “You know, Grady? The Grady who is the prototype for the teenaged boy every girl dreams about? The Grady you could never seem to shake? The Grady who may or may not have shot JFK? Whoops, I’m getting my conspiracy theories confused. I meant the Grady who may or not have been responsible for that night?”

  “Oh, that Grady,” I muttered.

  “So he was there.”

  I sighed heavily through my nose. “I didn’t talk to him.”

  “Good,” Freddie said, again slapping the desk.

  “Why are we even talking about him?” I asked. “That was a lifetime ago. I’ve dated plenty since then. I have built a whole new life for myself back in Chicago. I have a fabulous job, more friends than I can count—”

  Suddenly Freddie made a face.

  “What? What is that face?”

  “Erica, you don’t have to lie to me about the friends situation.”

  I straightened. “What are you talking about?

  “It’s okay. I’m not even sure it’s your fault. And look at me. I’m no better. Why do you think I’m still living in Otter Lake? It changes you. We’re not like the rest of the world,” he said, shaking his head. “Here, everybody knows my name. I can’t go into town without at least one person shouting, Hey, it’s the Gay Guy! How’s it going, Gay Guy?”

  “That’s messed up, Freddie.”

  “Meh.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I may be exaggerating a little bit.”

  “That’s still terrible.” I recrossed my arms over my chest. “And not to take away from any of it, but that’s your experience. Not mine. I have made a life for myself in Chicago. I run. I play Ultimate Frisbee twice a week in the summer. My teammates call me the Enforcer.”

  “Of course they do.”

  I squinted my eyes at him in warning but moved on. “In the winters, well, I was going to a book club, but they kicked me out for not reading the books.” Suddenly I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Every second Thursday I go out for drinks with the other clerks from work. And I plan to renew my gym membership and join a spin class in the fall.”

  “What about dating?”

  “I date. All the time!” My cheeks suddenly felt hot. “Not a lot of second dates, but that’s just because I haven’t met the right guy, and—”

  “And all these friends of yours?”

  “What about them?”

  “Name one.”

  Faces and names rattled through my brain, but they were all from work and were really more like friendly acquaintances. Huh, this was weird. I hadn’t spent much time thinking about the lack of people in my life. I did work a lot. Maybe too much, but I had friends. I just couldn’t think of any of them right now. Whatever the case, I liked my life in Chicago. It was calm, predictable, drama-free. I liked my job. I liked my Ultimate Frisbee team. I really liked the new cable package I just subscribed to that had all those shows I never got around to watching. Huh, that was a lot of likes. Clearly, I needed to give this some more thought later, but in the meantime, I wasn’t about to give Freddie the satisfaction of winning this argument.

  “Sophie Myers,” I blurted out. “You’ve seen her. She’s on my Facebook.”

  “Oh, Erica,” he said, shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “It’s time you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “I’m Sophie Myers.”

  “What?”

  “I’m Sophie Myers.”

  Gears slowly turned in my brain. “You … catfished me?”

  “I did.”

  “Why? Why would you do that?” I suddenly found myself leaning into the beer fridge grasping at bottles. Apparently, I was thirsty after all.

  “I felt bad for you.”

  “Wait,” I said, slowly pointing a finger at him. “Are you … are you Brandi from Montreal?”

  “And Dave from Pittsburgh,” he said. Freddie studied the beer bottle in his hand before tipping the top toward me. “And Mike from Chicago.”

  “I can’t believe this.” I slammed shut the door of the fridge with the side of my knee. “I … I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

  He grimaced. “I know. It’s weird and creepy. But before I found my calling as Madame Freddie, Conduit to the Stars, I got bored a lot. Besides, you know they say that if you have less than a hundred friends, you probably aren’t real. I was validating your existence.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said quickly. “But this brings up the much bigger issue of why you need to stay away from Grady.”

  I took a sip of my beer, trying to process how everything I thought I knew about myself was being questioned in less than two days of being home. “Wait. We’re not done with this whole catfishing thing, but, out of curiosity, why do you think I need to stay away from Grady?”

  “Listen. That night at the Raspberry Social, it was a strange and epic night.” He leaned back in his chair and took on the faraway look of a storyteller.

  I kicked his seat, throwing him off balance enough that he had to grab the desk with his free hand. “Okay, first, stop that,” I said. “Second, you weren’t even there! You had a cold!”

  He nodded. “More’s the pity. And let me tell you, the social’s been a real snoozefest ever since you left. It’s like everybody goes expecting something to happen, but it never does. Well, there was that o
ne time Kelly Winterburn had a little too much to drink.” Freddie smiled. “She tried to get up onto the stage to dance with the band, but fell off and landed on the tart table.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “But the point is, even though I wasn’t there, I know the legend, and it worked on many levels. It had a peculiar brilliance, but we’re getting off track. For you, it was not great. Well, the end was great … when you totally lost it, and you were all like, Fine! You want a show! Here’s a—”

  “What? I did not say that! Who are you getting this from?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You and Grady are like two ships meeting in the night,” he said sagely. “Ships that collide and then explode and all the passengers die. Betsy learned that the hard way. It shouldn’t happen. You’re both young and hot … but riddled with issues.”

  “I’m not riddled with issues,” I said, slumping back onto the desk.

  He sighed. “Here, look at it this way. Your mom, well, she brings a whole lot of crazy to the world. And as her daughter you had to absorb a lot of that crazy, like radiation.”

  “I am nothing like my mother.”

  “That’s it, right there. Exactly,” he said, pointing at me. “You never wanted to be like your mother. So you kept all the crazy in. Like a pressure cooker. And that’s really hard in Otter Lake.”

  “I did n—”

  “Let me finish,” Freddie said, jumping to his feet. “I’ve so got this now. So you’re walking around all pressure cooker like, and it’s fine. Every now and then you’d let out a little steam like when Tommy was picking on somebody, but for the most part you keep a lid on all of your bubbly emotions. Then Grady comes along”—Freddie smacked his hands together—“and POW!”

  “Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “Pow?”

  Freddie held one finger up. “That’s probably why you’re not going on any second dates back in the Windy City. You’re afraid of what might come out if you let your guard down.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I’m sorry, Erica, but sometimes watching you around him was like watching an episode of I Love Lucy. You could never be sure what might happen. And as for Grady, well, he’s just too pretty for his own good.”