“What are they doing here?” I asked no one in particular.
I remembered my mom had hired Laurie to do some housekeeping for the cabins along with the cooking, so it was possible she was finishing up, but what was Harry doing here?
“I don’t know, but Laurie looks angry,” Tweety announced with the excitement of a boxing commentator.
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but agree. Laurie did look angry. She wasn’t yelling—we would have been able to hear her—but her arms were flailing.
“Laurie’s always angry. Now she should maybe learn to repress a little bit,” Kit Kat replied before leaning forward to slap my hip. “Move, Erica. I can’t see.”
I shuffled over to the side.
“We probably shouldn’t be spying on them,” I whispered, unable to peel my eyes away.
“You’re welcome to go back inside,” Kit Kat added. “But my guess is she’s just about to hit him, so you might want to wait.”
I scoffed. “Come on. We’re not kids anymore. Laurie’s not going to—”
“Whoa!” all three of us shouted at once.
Not only did Laurie hit Harry, she clocked him.
“Man down!” Both Kit Kat and Tweety were struggling to their feet.
I waved them back. The twins were always up for a fight, and I didn’t want this situation to turn into a Royal Rumble. “I’ll go.”
I jumped down the porch steps and ran over the best I could in my flip-flops. As I approached, Laurie disappeared down the stairs leading to the lake. Harry stayed on the ground, hand at his cheek.
“Hey!” I called out, trotting up to where Harry was sitting. “You all right?”
“Erica! What are you doing here?”
I didn’t answer right away. I thought it more polite to give him a moment to catch up.
“Oh ho ho, right. You live here.”
“My mom lives here,” I corrected.
“Right. Right. It all makes sense now,” he said, smiling and nodding. If I didn’t know Harry, I might have been concerned that Laurie’s whack had given him brain damage.
I offered him a hand up, but he waved me off. “I’m cool.”
“So what was that all about?” I asked, looking below to Laurie’s boat pulling away. I noticed another boat still tied to the dock. That had to be Harry’s.
“Nothing. Nothing,” he said, still smiling. “I was cruising by, and I saw Laurie’s boat and thought, Hey, I should totally go up there and give Laurie my grieving gift, but she didn’t want it.”
“Your grieving gift?”
Harry’s hand shot out, tossing a package at me. I fumbled with it a little before pinning it to my chest.
“Harry, is this a bag of weed?”
“Yup, the perfect grieving gift,” he said, nodding sagely. “It’s also good for dumping people. Take it from me. Your next dumpee will appreciate it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, tossing it back to Harry. “So Laurie decked you because you offered her weed?”
“Nah … yeah, kind of. You know, she’s probably just upset about Dickie.” His face turned sad.
I nodded. “How are you doing with everything?”
“Okay.” He folded his arms around his knees before adding, “Hey, do you want to make out or something?”
“Not really.”
He nodded. “Yeah, me neither. I kind of just want to smoke the weed.” He caressed the bag in his lap.
I gave him a smile, but said, “You know you can’t do that here, right? But should you be boating?”
“No, totally. I haven’t started yet. I’ll go home, tie off the boat, and then just float and look at the stars … think about what Dickie’s doing. If he’s in heaven, he’s probably rolling around in a bed of boobs right now.”
That was too much image for me to respond to.
“Yeah, he’d like that.” Harry struggled to his feet. “All right, see ya, Erica.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
I watched Harry stumble down the steps and push off in his boat before turning back to the lodge. Just then I heard Tweety yell something, but I couldn’t quite make out the words.
“What’s that?” I shouted back, straining to hear her response.
She yelled louder.
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“No, Tweety, I didn’t keep the weed,” I said, stomping back up to the retreat. “And, isn’t it time for you to go home?”
* * *
Three more days.
I blinked away the morning rays blasting through my bedroom window.
Two really.
Actually, maybe one and a half.
I just needed to get through today, and then I could take the early bus out tomorrow morning. The women would leave the following day. My mom could work that out with Lydia and cancel next week’s retreat.
I popped out of bed and stretched my arms high into the air, ignoring Caesar anchored to the floor by his rolls of fat.
This trip had given me lots to think about, but I could put all of that on hold until I was back in my safe little apartment in Chicago, eating something with lots of meat.
One day really.
I could do this.
I would lie low and say nothing.
And most important of all?
I would stay on the island.
Grady was the biggest problem. Seeing him did stir up all sorts of emotions. And all those emotions led straight to crazy Erica. I couldn’t handle both Grady and my mother. And I couldn’t embarrass myself in front of Grady if I didn’t see him. Thankfully, that really shouldn’t be too much of a problem. The Crime Unit had scoured the well site, and I had been questioned. So Grady had no reason to bring his police butt out here—especially considering it was probably still naked in bed with Candace.
I slammed the heels of my hands against my temples.
Gah! Where had that come from?
No, no, no. No naked Grady images in bed with Candace.
Why did I care?
It was ancient history.
I rolled my shoulders again and stretched my head from side to side.
It didn’t matter what I had to do to make it happen, this was going to be a good day.
* * *
“Sweet Mother of God, I don’t want to die!”
A startled flock of birds rose up from the trees.
“You’re fine, Maria!” my mother called up to the woman clinging to the pole supporting the wooden platform. The rest of the women stood a short distance behind my mother, waiting their turns. “This is a trust exercise. Step out onto the rope and make your way to the other side toward Lydia. You need to trust in me! I won’t let you fall! You need to trust in yourself!”
I sighed and wiped a bit of sweat from my brow. This could take a while.
I stood at the other end of the course, holding the ropes for Lydia Morgan. The helmeted insurance agent beamed down at me and gave a friendly wave which I did my best to return. Yup, this could definitely take a while.
The course consisted of two pairs of parallel ropes—one pair for the feet, the other for hands—running between two suspended wooden platforms. The way this exercise ran, the women would start from either end, they would meet in the middle, take a brief moment of strength by staring deeply into each other’s eyes, and then continue their respective journeys to the other end. The entire time, my mother and I would guide them from below, holding on to the safety ropes that attached to their harnesses, just in case they fell or simply bailed. Thankfully, the device was designed in such a way that it didn’t take much strength on our part to guide them to the ground.
“I can’t do it! I can’t do it!”
“Trust in us, Maria! We won’t let you fall! This is your turning point of power! I can feel it!”
I shifted my weight back and forth. My hips were beginning to ache standing on the uneven ground. As a teenager I had begged my mother, over and over, to skip the ropes course, but she never wo
uld. I just couldn’t help but think there had to be a faster, less sweaty, way to build trust.
“One step, Maria! Just take one step!”
“Okay! For you, I’ll do it!”
“Don’t do it for me! Do it for you!” my mother shouted back.
Maria Franelli pointed one shaky toe toward the rope.
Finally.
I adjusted my grip, looked up to Lydia and nodded. She took a step.
“I caaan’t!” Maria screamed.
“Oh, for the love of God, come on!”
I started. Who had said that?
All eyes landed on me.
Oh … uh-oh.
Then all the women began to shout.
“She’s right!”
“Come on, Maria! You can do it!”
“Show that cheating bastard how strong you are!”
Maria’s hair had found every possible way out of her helmet, and black mascara ran in thick trails down her face. I had never not seen a woman eventually make it across with my mother’s encouragement, but she might be a first.
Then, almost in an instant, a different look came across her face. For a brief second, she looked stunned and then focused … superfocused.
She took a step … and then another.
I jumped to attention and gave Lydia another nod.
Lydia kept a good pace, but she was nowhere near as quick as Maria, who was now making a beeline across the rope.
Then just as suddenly she stopped.
“You’re doing beautifully, Maria! Don’t give up now!”
I looked again to Maria’s face. Her look stayed intent.
Realization dawned on me. She wasn’t focused on the course. She was focused on the woods behind me, like she was angling to get a better view.
“Oh my God,” she said in a daze. “Who is that? Tell me he’s the prize for making it across.”
I looked over my shoulder. Of course. Well, at least I wasn’t the only one he had that effect on.
All the women froze as Grady broke through the trees. His sheriff’s hat hid his face, just as it had that morning when I watched him crest the hill. He brushed a branch from his path.
Then bam!
He looked up just as he stepped into the full strength of the sun.
A chorus of women gasped in unison. His slow smile slid across his face at the sound, revealing his perfect white teeth.
I snorted. He so did that on purpose.
The women oohed then began murmuring in fast, hushed voices.
“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
“His thighs. Oh my God, would you look at his thighs?”
“Just once. Just once, I want to be arrested. Why do I never get arrested?”
“He’s walking over to Summer’s daughter.”
“You don’t think they’re together, do you?”
“She’s not in his league.”
“Nobody is in his league.”
“I’m standing right here!” I shouted.
The women startled.
“Well, good morning, ladies!” Grady called out, voice riddled with enjoyment.
They tittered while I rolled my eyes so violently something hurt deep in my head.
“Don’t let me disturb you,” he said, holding his hand up in a way that flexed his bicep. The women clutched each other for strength. “Please continue what you’re doing. I just need a few words with Erica.”
The women didn’t move.
“Ladies,” he said. “Please. If I’m interrupting, I’ll have to go.”
Well, that got them moving. Luckily, it also allowed me to look up and focus on Lydia instead of him. Not that it really mattered. I had already decided today was going to be a good day, no matter what.
I was ready for my do-over with Grady. Calm, cool Erica was back.
“Good morn—”
I cut him off. “Well, don’t you look all bright eyed and bushy tailed after your date.” Nope, Crazy Erica was apparently still in the building.
“I’m sorry?”
I cleared my throat. “I had the pleasure of meeting Candace last night. Sweet girl. Very … um, blond. A hugger too. You have to love a hugger.”
“Oh, right,” he said. I could hear the smile sliding back over his face.
I closed my eyes. “Why are you here? I … I really thought we left things in a good place yesterday.”
He gave me a look that clearly spoke the fact that he too was now questioning my sanity, but said, “I need to ask you something—it’s not about the social—and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”
I inhaled deeply. “Of course,” I said, forcing a smile. I kept my eyes on the women above me, but I wasn’t really seeing them anymore. “What can I help you with?”
“How do I put this,” he said before pausing. “I’m just going to ask it.”
“Please do.”
“Erica Bloom, are you a serial killer?”
Chapter Five
“Uh, I think you’re supposed to keep a hold of that rope.”
I stared into Grady’s face, not moving.
He motioned his eyes from me over to the rope dangling midair.
I quickly grabbed it. “You’re joking, right?” I asked, not quite able to tear my gaze from his face. There was something serious there that I did not like at all.
He sighed. “Bad joke for an even worse situation. Harry Drummond was in an accident last night.”
A cold rush swept over my body despite the morning heat. “He’s not…”
“He’s in a coma over at St. Elizabeth.”
I exhaled until my chest felt still and empty. “Oh, no, poor Harry.” I was a little surprised by how sad I felt. I mean, Harry wasn’t a big part of my life, but he was endearing in his own way. “What happened? Can I see him?”
Grady swallowed before answering. “The hospital isn’t allowing anyone but family to see him at the moment. And as for what happened, I can’t give you any details right now.”
“Why not?” I asked and glanced back and forth from him to Lydia’s form up above. She and Maria were holding hands, now at the halfway point. Unfortunately, this also meant my mother was directly across from us, listening to every word.
“Is there someone who can take over for you?” Grady looked around to the other women. They were still all looking at him with dumb smiles on their faces. He gave them a group nod.
“Believe me. There’s no one,” I said, shaking my head. “And what are you talking about? What does Harry’s accident have to do with me?”
“Yes, what does Harry’s accident have to do with my daughter?” my mother asked sharply. “You know, my brother is a very influential lawyer. Should I call him?”
Both Grady and I looked over at my mother. Her already large eyes had widened to near-hysterical proportions.
“Mom, I thought you guys weren’t speaking, and … and, this is crazy. You don’t need to call Uncle Jack.”
Grady cleared his throat. “You might want to call Uncle Jack.”
My eyes flashed back to his. He was serious.
My mother was about to speak, but luckily, the women above were parting ways, and we began to sidestep in opposite directions.
Grady waited until we were a few steps over before he resumed speaking.
“Did I say Harry was in an accident?”
I nodded.
“Well, it may not have been an accident.”
A new rush of chills raced over my damp skin. “Okay.” I did not like where this conversation was headed. My eyes darted over Grady’s face.
“And it seems as far as Dickie is concerned,” he said before taking a breath, “it looks like he may have been stabbed before he fell into the well, but we don’t have the murder weapon.” He studied my face for a moment. “You’re sure you saw a weenie skewer?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, my mind sussing out all this new information. “You mean it wasn’t at the scene?”
He shook h
is head no.
“So somebody got down into the well and pulled it … pulled it out of his body … in the time it took for me to run to the retreat and get you?”
“Yeah, sounds kind of implausible,” Grady said. “It would have made more sense for the murderer to stab him, keep the weapon, and push him into the well.”
“But I saw the skewer!”
“So you say.” His tone was neutral, but I did not like what those words implied.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Yoo-hoo!” a voice from above called down. “Did I hear you say something was wrong with the retreat’s well? If so, as your insurance provider—”
My gaze flipped up. “Oh, no, Ms. Morgan, Officer—”
“Sheriff,” Grady corrected.
“Pfft,” I replied, not sparing him a glance.
“Why do you keep pffting my credentials?” he asked quickly, eyes darting around to the other women. “I am a real cop, you know.”
“I know. You have the uniform and everything,” I said, shaking my head before turning my face back skyward. “Sorry, Ms. Morgan … Lydia,” I corrected. “Grady here is just looking for … directions.”
“Oh, okay,” Lydia called down. “Thanks for the support, Dr. Bloom.”
“Dr. Bloom?”
I felt my cheeks flush. I gave him a sideways look, and said through my teeth, “Grady, you have caused enough horribleness in my life for one man. Just leave it alone.”
Our eyes met and warred for a bit before he shook his head in defeat.
“I don’t want to know anything that’s going on with this,” he said, waving his hands around the retreat. “You’re already in enough trouble.”
“But the missing skewer alone can’t implicate me in all this mess. That’s really circumstantial. Or inconclusive. Or something like that. You have got to have more than that to go on before you even consider me to be a suspect.”
“We do.”
Before I could stop it my jaw dropped again. “You do?”
“Fingerprints.”
“Fingerprints?”
“We found your fingerprints on a bag of weed Harry had in his possession.” My brain was clicking all the pieces together before Grady even finished speaking.
“I can explain that,” I said quickly. “You know my prints are only in the system as a job requirement for the courthouse, and as for last night, I only touched—”
Skinny Dipping with Murder Page 7