“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I lay down and rubbed at my grainy eyes. “What’s your lead?”
“We’ve been so focused on Laurie, being Dickie’s girlfriend and all, we forgot all about Tommy’s girlfriend.”
“Tommy has a girlfriend?”
“Shelley Michaels.”
“Oh, no freaking way.” I took a moment to try to picture it. I could see Tommy liking Shelley’s badass personality, but for a commitment phobic guy, Shelley was a little on the possessive side. Like “smashing headlights with a baseball bat” possessive side.
“She’ll know what’s going on.”
“That’s a really good idea, Freddie.” I sighed, then added, “I’m telling you, though, maybe it’s a stretch to think Grady’s involved, but there’s something off about that Candace.”
“Erica, everybody in Otter Lake has something a little off about them. So, really, she fits right in.”
“Bah. Anyway, stay by the phone. I’m going to call you back in a little bit.”
“Why? What are you g—”
I hung up.
A new plan had occurred to me while I was talking to Freddie. I just needed to find a way to ditch the Murder She Wrote Club staying in the cabins out back.
I got dressed in a hurry.
I’d decided my first course of action was to go to Tommy’s. As the twins had pointed out, I should probably have tried to talk to him in the first place before breaking into his house. I wasn’t about to beat myself up though. This detective thing had a learning curve.
I breathed in the cool, crisp morning air as I bounced across the water, closing my eyes briefly and turning my face to the sun.
Stupid Grady.
I didn’t need him.
All I needed was to see the expression on his face when I solved this whole murder thing.
Just to be safe, though, I’d stay away from him until that happened. For realsies this time.
I cut the engine and drifted towards Tommy’s property. He had two docks now—one tucked away, half-covered with trees, for his old boat, and a newer, longer one for his freshly bought monster. I was guessing he was still using his first boat for puttering around. His new speed demon had to be a gas-guzzler.
After a moment of indecision, I decided to tie off on the original dock. I didn’t want to give my mother’s little craft self-esteem issues.
The plan was to act like an old friend stopping by to see how Tommy was doing, but even I couldn’t deny that it seemed risky—for a whole lot of reasons. First, Tommy could be the murderer. I had no idea what his motive could be, but his half-packed suitcase seemed to indicate that either he was scared or guilty … or going on a trip, but that was too reasonable for this crazy lake. Second, Tommy was probably the figure we had seen standing on the porch. That meant he most likely knew it had been me breaking into his place, which probably wouldn’t make him happy. As a third and related point, he was, also, most likely, the person who had skewered my porch, as a warning to stay away. And now, here I was, walking up to his place, not following instructions at all.
I bit my lip.
Those were some pretty good reasons to go home and leave this to the police.
An image of Rhonda with her notepad flashed through my mind.
Yeah, I wasn’t going to leave this to the police.
Still, I didn’t have to be stupid about things. I pulled out my phone.
“What are you up to?” Freddie asked in his fake Southern accent. “I’m working.”
“I know. I know,” I said quickly, standing at the foot of the path leading up to Tommy’s place. “I just want you to listen. I’m going to talk to Tommy. If he tries to kill me, I want you to call 911.”
“What? No! First of all, you are not supposed to be investigating without me. I already missed cat-burglaring with the twins.”
“Well, I’m calling you, aren’t I? It’s like you’re here.”
“And what if he does attack you? Help will arrive just in time to cart your dead body away.”
I stepped over a rusted leg trap, giving it a grimace. “I don’t think Tommy’s the murderer. I just want—”
“Right, because Candace and Grady are the murderers.”
“That’s only one theory,” I muttered. “Look. I didn’t call for your input. Just keep your ears open for screaming.”
I slid my phone into the blousy front pocket of my shirt. I heard all sorts of muffled complaining, but I clamped my hand over the pocket, and carefully treaded my way up to the back porch.
I peeked in a window before knocking. It looked much the same as it had the other night, but grimier in the light of day.
Maybe Tommy had already left town.
I raised my hand to knock, throat tight, when I heard something.
It was a strange sound, kind of like groaning.
Was that…? No, couldn’t be.
Oh, God!
Ewww.I ducked down, so I wasn’t visible from the windows.
“What’s happening?” my pocket said.
“Shh,” I replied softly. “I think Tommy’s having sex.”
Tinny laughter rippled up to my ears.
“I’m going to go,” I whispered, already frog-walking my way to the stairs leading toward the dock.
“You can’t go! It could be a clue!” Freddie cried before changing voices. “Oh, no, not you, honeybee. Actually, yes, you. The universe sends clues all the time, but are you listening?” Regular Freddie voice returned in an angry whisper. “See? This is why you should have waited for me to finish work!”
“Really, Freddie? A sex clue? That’s how pornos start. Nope,” I said, foot on the first step. “I have no desire to spy on Tommy and Shelley having sex.”
“What if it isn’t Shelley?”
I grimaced. Frick! I frog-walked my way back to the side of the porch that the noises seemed to be coming from and eased myself down to the ground.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! You nasty f—”
I shut my eyes. I did not just hear that.
“Did I just hear that?”
I clamped my hand again over my phone and inched my way toward the open window.
I thought I might have recognized the voice, but it was hard to tell through all the grunting and slapping sounds.
I stopped, back pinned against the wall, head right under the window frame. I wasn’t tall enough to peek in, so I stood listening for a few minutes, hoping Tommy’s partner would give herself away.
At first, the noises sounded fairly typical and slightly nauseating. Then the slapping sound got louder.
“Ow! What are you doing?”
Slap. Slap. SLAP!
“OW!”
I looked quickly around for something to step on.
A lot of junk lay scattered over the fine bed of pine needles, but there was nothing of much use. Finally my eyes settled on a case of beer, filled with empty bottles. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but I didn’t have a lot of options.
I ignored Freddie’s pleas for information as I positioned the case under the window. I placed one foot on the soft cardboard, trying to distribute my weight evenly across the tiny round tops of three bottles. It felt okay. I gripped the window ledge and tested my stance before bringing up the other foot.
The slapping was coming rapid-fire now.
“What? Your girlfriend doesn’t like to slap you around?”
So it wasn’t Shelley in there!
It was now or never.
My hands pulled at the wood. I simply needed to peek over and—
“OW! Get off of me!”
Right before I could see who Tommy was yelling at, the window ledge gave way in my hands with a crack, and I fell backward in a loud clattering of glass.
A voice shouted from the window above me. “What the hell?”
I scrambled to get up, but suddenly Tommy’s face appeared.
“Erica Bloom!”
My pocket said, “Uh-oh.”
; Chapter Nine
“Hey Tommy,” I said, still on my butt.
“What are you doing?” he asked, before briefly looking behind him. I thought I heard a door slam.
“Um, I came by to see how you were doing.” It sounded even lamer out loud. “You know, after Dickie? Harry?”
Tommy looked at me for a second, then jumped back from the window. I struggled to my feet.
Time to go.
I started to make a run for my boat when I heard the back screen door slam.
I quickly decided to go around the other way.
I sprinted to the front of the cottage, feet slipping on the uneven ground, hoping Tommy would follow me—then I would have a head start back around to the lake.
I didn’t make it even to the front driveway before I felt Tommy’s hand clamp down on my arm.
I screamed.
“Oh my God, Erica!” my phone screamed back. “Is he killing you?”
Tommy yanked me around to face him.
“What are you doing here?” he shouted, eyes flashing.
“Tommy, seriously, I was just coming by to check on you,” I said, watching the growing beads of sweat on his upper lip. “And then I heard that … that you were busy.”
“So you spied on me?” he asked, face contorting in disbelief. “Like some sort of pervert?”
I chuckled slightly before gulping it back down.
“What’s so funny?”
I shrugged. “Well, I mean, of the two of us, one is definitely a pervert, but I’m not the one standing in my boxers.” I laughed, but he didn’t join me. Instead, he grabbed my arms, making me yelp.
“Why are you back in town?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you back in town?” he repeated, eyes darting around my face.
Suddenly, I was having trouble finding my voice. “To … uh … see my mother.”
His eyes were still frantically searching mine. “Why now? Right before the Raspberry Social? You hate the Raspberry Social.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” I was trying to sound glib, but I couldn’t hide my fear. “My mother needed me to help out with her insurance.”
Tommy’s grip stayed tight.
“You work for the police, don’t you?” He pulled me closer. “Back in Chicago.”
I tilted my face away from his stale beer breath. “No. I’m a stenographer. I—”
“What do you know?” he demanded.
I froze.
He shook me again, hard enough for my teeth to clack together. “What do you know!”
Suddenly a voice came yelling from my pocket. “She doesn’t know anything!”
Tommy dropped my arms and stared at my chest.
“If you don’t let her go, I’m calling the police!” Freddie’s muffled voice yelled.
Tommy’s eyes widened. “You’re wearing a wire?”
I waved my hands in front of my chest. “No. No. It’s Freddie. You remember Freddie.” I reached to take my phone out of my pocket, but Tommy wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes darted in crazy jumps around the forest.
“Tommy?” I asked carefully.
“Get out of here,” he said, backing up slowly toward the cottage.
He didn’t need to tell me twice.
I moved as quickly as I could through the junkyard of a lawn. I was almost back to the boat when I heard Tommy yell, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of this.”
I gave a quick thumbs-up into the air and jumped into my boat.
“Erica, are you still there?”
“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, “but I’m leaving now. I’m coming to your place.” I ended the call, and wiped the sweat off my hands before gripping the pull cord on the motor. I gave it a good yank. Black smoke plumed around my hands.
“No. No. No,” I muttered, yanking again. “Not today.”
Nothing.
“Argh!” I gave the motor a good kick, then fell backward on my butt.
Why? Did this many bad things happen to other people?
I took a breath and looked back up at Tommy’s cottage. For a split second, I thought I saw something move in the forest, but since it wasn’t coming at me with a chain saw, I decided to pay it no mind. Then the sound of an approaching boat forced my gaze back to the water.
I squinted my eyes. I didn’t recognize the boat, per se, but the police insignia on its side was pretty unmistakable.
Great. Maybe Freddie had called the police … or maybe I had just been a really bad person in a previous life … like Vlad the Impaler bad.
I yanked the cord again, but halfheartedly. I knew whose side it was on.
Grady cut his motor, allowing the boat to drift the last few feet toward mine.
No hint of a smile played across his lips today.
Well, two could play that game. Seriously, what business did he have being upset with me? I was the injured party … or, at least, the very confused party.
“Erica,” he called out, tipping his hat back, “why are you here?”
“Why am I here?” I asked with a scoff. “Why are you here?”
“You want to know why I’m here?” he asked, making a smacking sound with his lips. “Let’s see.” He leaned forward on his hands, gripping the steering wheel—kind of looked like he was strangling it. Best not read too much into that. “We got a call. Mr. Connelly across the lake,” he said with a jab of his thumb, “was stargazing with his telescope the other night when he saw three women—two older, one younger—creeping around Tommy’s property in the middle of the night when Tommy wasn’t home. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I looked skyward. “Pfft. No.”
I glanced over to see Grady close his eyes and shake his head. “I’m getting a little tired of that pfft.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “First, everybody knows Mr. Connelly wasn’t stargazing. He was spying on people with his friend Jack Daniel’s, hoping to catch couples having sex, so I don’t see how you can take anything he says seriously.”
“Erica, I don’t think you get how serious this could be for you.”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “What I can’t seem to get is how far all of this has gone. It’s crazy, and the minute Harry wakes up—”
“It’s not looking like Harry is going to wake up. At least not any time soon.”
“Oh, no.” All the breath escaped from my lungs. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, it is. Now do you see why you can’t be snooping around Tommy’s—” Suddenly Grady’s brow creased. “Wait … you’re not … you’re not seeing Tommy, are you?”
I felt like I had been slapped in the face with a cold washcloth. I stared at Grady. For half a second, he actually looked vulnerable, like he was pretty upset by the idea. Suddenly my brain felt really hot. Thoughts spun so quickly, it was hard for me to catch just one. Like he had any business caring about who I was seeing? When he was out having drinks with Candace? And wait … Tommy? He actually thought I’d see Tommy? This was all too ridiculous. “No, I’m not sleeping with your cousin! Not that it’s any of your business.”
A flash of relief crossed his face. “Okay, I get that we should probably talk about last night, but first, if you’re not seeing Tommy, what are you doing here?”
“Not that I’m admitting I was here the other night, but if I was, it might be because your cousin knows something about what happened with Dickie and Harry. In fact, he’s acting a little crazy. Right now, he’s probably hiding in a corner surrounded by guns.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, making his forearms ripple. “Tommy has never worried about anything in his entire life.”
“Exactly!” I yelled before grabbing the pull cord to the boat’s motor, giving it another pull. More black smoke rose into the air.
“Stop that,” Grady said, moving to tie our boats together. “There’s obviously something wrong with your engine. Let me take a look at it already.”
“It’
s fine,” I said, yanking again. It gave me nothing in return but smoke. I stayed bent over, hand on the cord. I turned to look at Grady again, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. “And did you know your cousin is planning a little vacation? Tell me, when has Tommy ever left the lake?”
Grady stopped working on the knot to look at me.
Ha! Satisfied tingles ran over my arms. There’s something you didn’t know, Sheriff!
“Erica, I can’t even begin to explain what a bad idea it is for you—a current person of interest—to be investigating this case,” he said, trying to pin me with his eyes. “And seriously, would you stop yanking that damn cord! Let me look at it!”
I ignored him and kept yanking.
Suddenly he was behind me trying to get at the engine. I turned so that we were standing chest to chest and gave him a solid push back.
“Hey!” he shouted, stumbling a mere step backward before moving even closer. I could feel the heat from his body wash over mine. We stared furiously at each other.
He broke first. “You know what?” he said, throwing up his hands. “I give up! I give up trying to apologize. I give up trying to stop you from being arrested. Erica Bloom listens to no one! Especially not me! You win.”
Emotions battled in my head. It was hard to think with him standing so close.
I barely managed a scowl before I turned back to the engine.
I felt his hand on my shoulder. “But I will not let you pull that damn cord one more time until I check it out.”
A lot of things happened pretty quickly after that.
Grady angled to get in between me and the motor, just as I yanked the cord one last time.
The engine roared to life.
Sparks flew around us, and then a Whomph! of flame shot into the air.
Grady’s arm clamped around my waist and hauled me into the air.
Next thing I knew I was underwater.
Chapter Ten
BOOM!
I flailed my arms and legs, trying to find the surface.
I struggled into the air and blinked my eyes open. It took me a second to process all the flames and smoke.
“My boat.”
I turned to see Grady treading water, his face frozen with shock.
“My boat,” he said again slowly before looking at me. “You blew up my boat.”
Skinny Dipping with Murder Page 12