Skinny Dipping with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “What are you even talking about? That is so not tr—”

  “Trust Madame Freddie on this one. Grady is the nitro to your glycerin. You can’t handle it. I can’t handle it.”

  “Pfft,” I replied. “More like Grady couldn’t handle the awesome mature woman I’ve become, and he would, like, embarrass himself in uniform and become, like—”

  “Just stop,” Freddie said, putting his bejeweled hand up to my face. “It’s happening already. Look, I like having you back. I want you to come back more, but if you see Grady, God only knows what will happen. Then it will be another decade before I see you again.”

  “Huh.” I swirled my beer around in the bottle. “Are you … wait … even Joan from Delaware?”

  “Even Joan from Delaware.”

  “Huh.”

  I spent the next couple of hours raiding Freddie’s fridge for meat products before leaving to head back to camp. The beer’s happy effect had long since worn off, and I felt tired and headachy as I walked down the dock toward my boat.

  It was all too much.

  I knew coming home wasn’t a good idea. Despite Freddie’s big reveal regarding my social status, I had a good life back in Chicago, and, again, I knew a cute assistant DA who smiled at me a lot.

  It was time I smiled back.

  Yeah. I was going to smile so big, he wouldn’t know what hit him. Yeah. Good plan.

  Trust Madame Freddie.

  Please. I mean what did Freddie know anyway? He really needed to move to Chicago with me. There was more to the world than Otter Lake. I could show him. Yeah. That was an even better plan. And I never lost my cool anymore. I was the calmest, coolest, most collected person I knew. Granted, it turned out most of the people I knew were fake, but the argument was still there.

  I jumped in my mom’s boat, grasped the T-shaped lever on the pull cord starter and gave the rickety motor a good yank.

  Nothing.

  “Come on,” I muttered, giving it another pull as sweat trailed from the back of my neck down between my shoulder blades.

  He was probably right about staying away from Grady though. Not that I believed we were two exploding ships, but because the Grady years were over. I mean we had only hung out a few times. And sure, we’d had undeniable chemistry, but we were teenagers. All teenagers are … chemical.

  I yanked at the motor again.

  Still nothing.

  I swiped my bangs away from my forehead with the back of my hand. It was time to let the Otter Lake Erica from my childhood go completely. I wasn’t the kid with the dippy mom anymore. I wasn’t the kid who bit people on the shoulder. And I definitely wasn’t the girl who desperately followed Grady Forrester around trying to get his attention and then freaking out when I finally did.

  I yanked the pull cord again.

  Nothing.

  “Come on!” I hopped up and down in frustration.

  Just then a large hand slid up from the water over the lip of my boat.

  “Wah!”

  I jumped back, my foot landing awkwardly on a life jacket. Before I knew it, I was on my butt, dirty water from the floor of the boat seeping through my jean shorts.

  I struggled to my feet, eyes never leaving the hand. As I stood, I could see that those manly digits led up to a rippling forearm … and then to a bulging bicep.

  Oh, crap.

  I knew where that arm led.

  My heart fluttered in my chest, unable to catch a rhythm.

  Suddenly his wet, chiseled face appeared …

  My heart gave up trying to beat.

  … his free hand slicked back his hair, sending wet trails of water running over the planes of his nose, his lips …

  Shaky breath escaped my lips.

  “Erica Bloom,” Grady said, squinting his blue eyes against the sun. “Can I give you a hand?”

  Chapter Four

  It took me a second to shake off the slow-motion moment I was having in my head. No, I mean, yes … he was beautiful. So very beautiful. But I needed to get a hold of myself. I could handle this. Obviously the universe wasn’t on board with my staying-away-from-Grady plan, but it was okay. Everything was different now. I was different now. It was time for Grady to meet the new and improved Erica, Chicago Edition.

  I wiped a droplet of sweat from my nose before meeting Grady’s gaze. “Thank you for the offer—it’s lovely to see you by the way—but I’m fine.”

  “Really? It looks like you’re having engine trouble.” He planted his large hands on the edge of the boat and began to push himself up, muscles rolling over his shoulders.

  It was all happening too fast.

  Before I knew it, those shoulders rose up, revealing honeyed pecs … then the first two bumps of his six-pack.

  Alarm bells rang in my head.

  He was going to mount my vessel!

  The last thing this situation needed was a better view of Grady’s half-naked body.

  “No! Put your chest away!” I shouted, thrusting out my palms in a stop gesture. Then I froze, turned my palms in, and let them drop. “I mean, I’m fine. Really,” I said with an attempt at a breezy laugh.

  I turned and gave another yank on the pull cord, allowing myself a second to close my eyes and regroup. Apparently the Chicago Edition of Erica Bloom still had a few kinks to work out. Yup, this cool, confident thing felt a little unstable.

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  Grady had lowered himself back into the water but left his arms crossed over the edge, his head cocked adorably to one side. The sun caught the droplets of water on his skin, nearly blinding me. I squeezed my eyes shut. What was wrong with me?

  It was this place.

  I was de-evolving. All my baser instincts were coming out. I needed to get out of here before it got any worse.

  “I was going to come by and see you later,” he called to my back. “Make sure you’re okay after what happened.”

  I turned, nodded quickly at his bobbing form, then swiveled back to the engine.

  “Actually, I’d wanted to see you yesterday. I’d heard you were in town, and I thought maybe we could catch up.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I did not like just how much I liked the way those words sounded coming out of his mouth. But wait, he’d been visiting in uniform? Coincidence, or had he done that for my benefit? “Oh, that’s sweet, but…”

  “It’s been what?” he said, tossing a wet flop of hair from his eyes. “Five … six years?”

  “Eight. Almost eight.” I inhaled deeply through my nose.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “You seem tense.”

  “Completely! I mean, I’m fine.” I could hear the nervous laughter coming out of my mouth, but I just couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  “I think I know what’s going on.”

  My eyebrows jerked up in question.

  “Well, aside from Dickie … there’s the social.” He pursed his lips before saying, “You know, I always wanted to explain what happened. You left town so quickly afterward.”

  The social again. Why was everybody always bringing up the freaking social? I yanked at the motor in hard, rapid bursts. “I was off to school,” I muttered quickly. “You knew that.”

  “You know, I never got a chance to tell you my side of things. You didn’t even say good-bye,” he said, cocking his head again.

  “Oh … well, good-bye. And now hello again,” I said, chuckling painfully. “And good-bye once more.” I mentally slapped myself on the forehead.

  “I know you never were one to talk about your feelings—”

  I cut him off with something that sounded a little like a shout. His eyes widened. I stopped to take a breath before saying, “I just think that night is one of those memories in life that is better left untouched. You know, it’s like when a dog has an accident indoors, and even though you clean it up, he keeps going back to that spot, over and over, to give it another sniff. I don’t want to be that dog. Do you want to be that do
g?”

  Grady blinked his eyes slowly a few times before saying, “I … I’m not sure.”

  I pressed my lips tightly together. Panic fluttered in my chest. This was exactly what I didn’t want. All these emotions. Explanations. I didn’t need to know why any of it happened the way it did. It was done. And it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

  I glanced at the water. Maybe I could outswim him.

  “I was thinking that I could hitch a ride with you to the retreat—”

  “Nope. I don’t th—”

  “I need to talk to your mother.”

  “Nope … wait. What?”

  “About the well.”

  My yanking arm collapsed to my side. I turned to face him. “The well? What about the well?”

  He propped himself more comfortably on the edge of the boat. “Oh, you know, routine stuff, like when was the last time she checked to make sure it was secure. When the cover was last replaced. That kind of thing.”

  I stepped back and crossed my arms across the sweat-drenched fabric of my tank top. “My mother’s not in trouble, is she?” I said quickly. “Because she’s already having some difficulty with her ins—”

  “Slow down,” he said, body still rising and falling with the water. “Nobody’s accusing anyone of anything. I just want to be thorough.”

  “Pfft.”

  His eyebrows furrowed in a very coplike expression. “I’m sorry? Did you just say pfft?”

  I wasn’t exactly sure why I had made that sound. I certainly didn’t intend to make that sound.

  “Pfft.” Or that one.

  “Again,” he said with a point. “I distinctly heard a pfft.”

  I rolled my eyes to the sky. “Must be all the water in your ears.”

  God, what was I doing? That sounded angry. I wasn’t angry at Grady, was I? I did a quick body check. Clenched fists. Gritted teeth. Uh-oh. Maybe I wasn’t mad. But I was something. This all was headed in a very bad direction.

  He smiled. “Same ol’ Erica.”

  Heat rolled up from my chest to my face. “Okay, you know what? Something has been bothering me. And it’s not that I’m interested because I’m really not,” I said, with probably too much hand waving. That seemed to be my new thing. “But how exactly did you get to be sheriff?”

  He tilted his head and flashed me another grin. “What exactly are you implying?”

  “See!” I pointed at his lips. “You know exactly what I mean. The Grady Forrester I knew was not exactly Mr. Responsible. In fact, when I think of the Grady Forrester I knew, I think of beer, pickup trucks, snowmobiles—”

  “All good things.”

  “I think of speeding, womanizing”—I was on a roll now. Maybe too much of a roll because I didn’t see where I was headed—“hockey brawls, stupid-guy high fives, and immature practical jokes that, I guess, are supposed to be funny, but are actually pretty cruel and deserve a kick in the n—”

  “And there it is.” Grady’s hands once again clutched the side of my boat. “We are going to hash this out once and for all.” There were those pecs coming aboard again. “I don’t think you really know all that happened that night.”

  I grasped for the pull cord and desperately resumed yanking. “I don’t need to. I have a pretty clear recollection of that night, and I don’t need to know what little misunderstanding happened before the main event.”

  “Erica—”

  “Stop!” I paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Once I was sure I had myself under control, I said, “Seriously. It doesn’t bother me. Nobody but you really saw anything anyway.”

  “Exactly, and I—”

  “In fact.” I jabbed a finger toward Grady’s face, making his eyes go wide. Uh-oh. Not done freaking out. “The only thing that bothers me is that people keep bringing it up!” I felt some spittle hit my chin. Wow, really not done. “And you know what’s even worse than people bringing it up?”

  Grady quickly shook his head no.

  “People feeling bad for me! Because then I start thinking, hey, maybe they have a reason to feel bad for me.” I tapped my finger to my chin. “I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself. But if everyone else is feeling sorry for me, then maybe there is something to feel sorry about. And really,” I said, chuckling, “I’m awesome!” I snapped my mouth shut, swallowed then tagged on a casual, “You know?”

  Nothing like shouting, I’m awesome!, to your ex-something like a crazy person to get the point across that you’re awesome.

  This just wasn’t working. Freddie might have been on to something with the whole POW! thing. It was really time to go.

  “Erica, I’d still like t—”

  I cut him off by giving the pull cord one last, hard yank. Finally, with an eruption of black smoke, the engine roared to life.

  I shot a look back to Grady. One leg had already straddled the boat.

  “You need to get off, Grady.”

  He froze. Half in, half out of the boat. “You can’t leave yet, Erica.”

  I revved the engine. “Get off my boat, Grady. You’re good. I’m good. It’s all good. And I’m leaving.”

  “You can’t—”

  I pushed the motor into the water. My mother’s loyal little boat jumped forward. Then it slammed back.

  A loud crack sounded behind me.

  “You’re still tied to the dock.”

  I looked back. A wooden post lay in the water attached to my boat by rope. I looked over to Grady, treading water a few feet away … chuckling.

  “Gah!”

  I pushed the throttle again and took off across the lake, the trailing dock post bouncing on the waves behind me.

  * * *

  The short boat ride did nothing to improve my mood. Thankfully, the retreat looked deserted as I climbed the lodge’s stairs. Okay, what had happened with Grady wasn’t great. Certainly not how I had imagined it. But I could regroup. It was a one-off type of deal. I wasn’t mad at Grady. I didn’t care about this social. It was this place.

  I needed a new approach. It was now time to avoid everyone and everything. Just hunker down and wait this trip out. It was just too soon. I had thought eight years was too long. But obviously it was too short. I loved my mother, and Freddie too for that matter, with all of his alter egos, but I needed to love them from a distance.

  I made it halfway to my bedroom when I heard a loud thunk.

  What the heck was that?

  Thunk!

  It came from the kitchen.

  I backpedaled slowly and craned my head to peek in.

  Laurie Day stood behind the rustic wooden island slamming a heavy cleaver down on a whole pile of plucked chicken carcasses.

  I froze. Part of me felt I should really go talk to her. She was grieving after all. I should express my condolences. The other part of me, however, did not like the way she was throwing that meat cleaver around.

  I turned away slowly, deciding this really wasn’t my place. After all, I barely knew her in high school. And how could I possibly relate to someone who would sleep with Dickie—God rest his soul—let alone comfort her about his death? Besides, she probably wanted to be alone.

  I didn’t even make it a step down the hallway before I heard, “Erica?”

  Condolences it would have to be.

  I turned back to the kitchen. “Laurie. Hi. You shouldn’t be here. How are you … honey?” I asked in an unnaturally soft voice. Freddie was right. Maybe I did have issues. Expressing condolences felt about as natural to me as a third leg.

  Laurie’s lean muscled arm slammed the cleaver down on the meat block again. I jumped … just a little.

  She had always been tall and slender, but never soft. Nope, Laurie was all gristle. Every muscle in her body formed a hard edge that looked a little dangerous. Today, in a green fatigue tank top, she looked downright terrifying.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked with my careful, “please don’t hurt me” voice. “Because you look a little upset
.”

  “Upset?” she asked, chuckling. “Upset? Why would I be upset? Just because I invested thirteen years in that asshat and have nothing to show for it?” she asked, pointing the cleaver at me. “Do I have a ring? Do I get the dress? No, I get a dead Dickie on a hot-dog stick.” She banged the chicken three more times. Bits of raw flesh flew about the kitchen. Maybe my mom was on to something with her whole veganism thing.

  I had no idea what to say next, but I felt like I had to say something. “Laurie—”

  “This is all Tommy’s fault.” Her eyes fixed onto mine.

  “Tommy?”

  She dropped the cleaver onto the counter and cracked the knuckles on each of her fists. “He always ruins everything for everyone. He always did.”

  My eyes quickly ran over Laurie’s face. She was distracted, talking more to herself than me.

  “You mean because of the pranks and stuff?”

  Her eyes focused back on mine. She pinned me for a moment in her glare before looking back down at the chicken. “I don’t know what I mean. I’m just upset.”

  “Laurie, I’m sure what happened to Dickie was an accident,” I said cautiously. “I’m not sure why he was wandering around the island with a skewer, but it was just a horrible accident.”

  She licked her lips. “Right.”

  “Laurie, if you know something about what happened—”

  “No. I know it was an accident. I’m just in shock,” she said, laying the cleaver down and taking a breath. She then planted both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “So was this the homecoming you were expecting?”

  “It’s fine,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’m just sorry for what you’re going through.”

  She picked up the cleaver again. This time her hand was shaking. “And it isn’t over yet.”

  * * *

  I spent the rest of the afternoon lying facedown on my bed listening to Laurie bang around the kitchen.

  A couple more days. I just needed to get through a couple more days.

  I must have fallen asleep, because when I rolled over, the sun lay low on the horizon. I ran a hand over my face. I could hear the animated chatter of women in the front room. I looked to the frog clock hanging on my wall. His fishing poles told me I had missed supper, which explained the grumbling in my stomach, so it was either face the women or starve in my room.