I rolled my eyes.
“Has it occurred to you that if she and Grady are seeing each other that she’s not the other woman? You are.”
I felt like somebody had just dumped the entire lake over my head.
It hadn’t occurred to me. Not even a little bit.
“Oh my God, Freddie!”
He nodded. “I know!”
“It is just like Darwin said! I’m devolving. Soon I’ll grow hair on my knuckles!”
“Wait … Darwin said what?”
Thoughts were racing. “I’ve been … not very nice to Candace!”
“I know!”
What was happening to me? The other woman? Oh no, no, no.
Freddie leaned forward. “You might want to think about signing up for a retreat,” he said with a knowing look in his eye.
My jaw dropped.
He leaned back again. “I’m just saying.”
This was all too much. I looked around the bar, I guess looking for answers, but, again, the looks the other patrons were giving me were not reassuring. “Freddie, this can’t be … I can’t be…”
“Human?” he asked. “Just admit you’re jealous. You’ll feel better. And maybe then you won’t have to go to your crazy place.”
I shook my head for a bit, not knowing what to say. Finally I muttered, “Well, this is terrible.”
Freddie nodded. “Very terrible … wait, why?” he asked with suspicious eyebrows.
“Well, you’ve put me in a very awkward position.”
He looked at me sideways. “I’ve put you in a what now?”
“Awkward position!” I shouted. “Now I have to be friends with a murderer.”
That earned me a few stares, but Freddie narrowed his eyes. “What are you going on about?”
“I can’t be that mean girl,” I said, shaking my head. “So I have to befriend Candace. Although … it’s going to be really hard taking down a friend with murder charges.” I took another sip of beer. “I now see what Rhonda has been going through.”
Freddie turned his head even farther sideways. “Again, I’m really starting to worry about you.”
“Me too,” I said, nodding big. “Because of you I have to cozy up to a murderer!”
Freddie then leaned forward while looking side to side. “Keep your voice down. Dating Grady does not make her a murderer. It makes her … female.”
I leaned forward to join him in whispering. “I should know, right? But you heard Shelley. Tommy just starting sleeping with someone. No one in town would touch Shelley’s man. It has to be Candace.”
“So she’s sleeping with Grady and Tommy?”
“Obviously. As her friend, I’ll need to have a talk with her about that.”
“Erica…” Freddie began but then stopped and took another approach. “Okay, are you sure this isn’t all just because you’re jealous?”
“And the hugging. I’ll have to have a talk with her about the hugging … Wait! What did you say?” I snapped my focus back to Freddie. “No! It’s not just because I’m jealous.”
“So you admit it! You are jealous!” he said. Suddenly an enormous smile spread over his face. “Did you see what I did just there? I got you to confess. I’m starting to think I really am good at this.” He rubbed his arms. “Tingles are running all over my body.”
I slapped the table with my hand. Freddie jolted.
“For the record,” I said, biting out the words, “Candace gave me a bad feeling before I knew she was dating Grady.”
“That’s because she doesn’t have people issues.”
I buried my face into my hands and mumbled, “People issues aside, I still think she might be the murderer.”
“Based on what?”
I glanced back at the bar. Candace had a pitcher and glasses in her hands.
“Based on the fact that she just came to town,” I whispered furiously. “That people who work for corporations are always evil, and—”
“Here we go, guys,” Candace said, putting everything on the table.
“Thank you, Candace,” Freddie said, carefully pronouncing every word. “You are so nice.”
I reslumped in my chair, letting my arms dangle over the sides. I was so confused. And suddenly my brain felt warm and thick.
She waved off his compliment before turning her attention to me. “Erica, I’m so glad I ran into you. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
I perked up. “And I’ve been so wanting to talk to you,” I said with a big smile.
“Um…” Candace looked to Freddie.
Freddie laughed nervously. Okay, maybe the smile was too big. I needed to practice.
“Of course. No, actually, I completely understand,” she said. “I know things have been hard for you lately.” She paused as I narrowed my eyes. “I want to help.”
I covered my surprise by raising the glass of beer she had poured me. “Help how?”
“You’re looking into Dickie’s death, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, I want to help.”
I struggled to sit up in an adult position. “Wait … what?”
“I want to help,” she said, nodding her head. Her blond waves rippled. “I’ve got a lot at stake. This development is the biggest opportunity of my career, and if the police don’t catch whoever killed Dickie and hurt Harry, well, everything I have worked for will be gone.”
I said nothing. I simply searched her eyes. I looked hard for the lie but couldn’t find it … yet.
“So I was thinking we could work together on this … like partners,” she said, smiling back and forth between Freddie and me.
Freddie laughed, covering a spray of beer from his mouth with his palm.
“I mean, I know I’m not a detective or anything, but—”
“It’s very kind of you to offer,” I said, cutting her off. I know I had just resolved to befriend her, but I couldn’t investigate my new friend for murder with my new friend as my partner. “But I already have a partner … Freddie.”
“No, no,” Freddie said, clearing his throat. “I think it’s a great idea. You know, when I’m working, Candace can be the Cagney to your Lacey. The Starsky to your Hutch. The Barney to your Andy Griffith. I’ll let you two decide who’s Barney, but I think it’s kind of a no-brainer.”
“We get it, Freddie,” I said. “Again, thanks, Candace, really. But I think I work better on my own.”
“I don’t think so,” Freddie jumped in. “I mean you’ve got all the women at the camp working on the case. What’s one more?”
Candace, again, looked back and forth between the two of us. “If Erica doesn’t want to…”
It was then a thought occurred to me. “Wait … you know, maybe it is a good idea.”
“Really?”
My brain was working fast now, beer-slicked fast. Maybe with my getting close to Candace, I could get into the cottage she was staying at—do one of those covert searches you see on TV when the suspect is in the other room.
“Really,” I said, ignoring the concerned look on Freddie’s face. “Great idea. Freddie’s right. I could use another friend.”
“Cool,” Candace said, once again giving her dimples a workout. “So what’s our first move?”
“Hmm, I’m not exactly sure,” I said, the alcohol telling me it was a good idea to scratch my chin to make it look like my brilliant plan had just now occurred to me. “Maybe we should meet at your place in the morning to discuss it.”
“Okay, but—”
The bar doors burst open.
Alpha Team moved in quickly, followed by Beta.
“Erica! Time to go!”
“Huh?”
“You’ve got to get out of here!” a woman I was pretty sure I had never seen before yelled. She waved like she was trying to roll me out the door with her hand.
I got to my feet.
“Your mother’s getting Red to fire up the pontoon.”
I didn’t move.
&n
bsp; “Quickly! The heat is on!”
I took a few steps forward. Obviously it was time for another discussion about the need for subtlety in a small town. But before I could get a word out, Maria Franelli had grabbed me by one arm while Lydia Morgan grabbed the other.
The beer was making it hard to resist.
“I’ll come to your place in the morning,” I called back to Candace.
She nodded.
“And I’ll talk to you later,” I shouted at Freddie.
Then the women dragged me out of the bar and into the night.
Chapter Twelve
It was hard to make any sense of what the women were saying on the way back to the retreat given the beer, their excited chatter, and the pontoon’s motor, but the ancient-looking cop boat tied under the retreat’s dock light gave me some idea that it wasn’t good.
“What do we do?” one of the ladies yelled.
“Do you want to make a run for it, Erica?” Lydia asked, grabbing my arm. “I know people.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What people, exactly, do you know?”
“People,” she said gravely.
“You’re an insurance agent.”
“Exactly.”
I slowly turned my head to break the intense gaze we had going on, in order to look to someone else for answers. “I still don’t understand what’s happened.”
Red cut the pontoon’s engine, and we drifted toward the dock. Two figures stood waiting. The distinctive silhouettes of Rhonda and Grady.
“Say nothing, Erica,” my mother said sharply, pushing her way through the crowd. “Your uncle said to say nothing.”
“You actually got a hold of him?” I asked.
My mother’s eyes flashed to mine. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because the last time you two spoke you called him a soulless money maggot?”
“I don’t see what that matters,” she replied. “He’s family. Anyway, he can’t get away right now, but he’ll come out if he needs to.”
Something big had obviously happened, but despite their constant talking, none of the women seemed particularly keen to fill me in on what had transpired.
I stood and elbowed my way through the women to jump from the pontoon onto the dock.
“Rhonda, Grady,” I said, making eye contact with each. “Can one of you tell me what is going on?”
Grady crossed his arms over his chest and nodded for Rhonda to go ahead.
“Erica Bloom, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
I took a deep breath through my nose. Playing good suspect to Rhonda’s cop seemed the fastest way to find out what was happening.
“Go for it,” I said, ignoring the women filling up the dock around me.
“Perhaps we could do this somewhere more private,” Grady suggested.
“No. Let’s do it here.” I turned to look at the women. “Why don’t you all go on ahead. I’m sure this won’t take long.”
The women looked at me like I had canceled Christmas, but I guess the expression on my face said I wasn’t negotiating. They slowly made their way to the steps—all of them, except my mother.
“Grady Forrester, haven’t you caused enough trouble for my daughter in one lifetime?”
Grady smiled. “Yes, ma’am. That has been pointed out to me before.”
My mother planted her hands on her hips and flashed her eyes to his boat in invitation for him to leave.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s either here or at the station.”
She snorted.
“We’ll be happy to leave just as soon as Erica answers a few questions.”
“Well, none of it is on the record,” my mother said, stepping behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“Right,” Rhonda said, snapping her notebook shut.
Grady gave Rhonda a quick swat on the arm. She started, then reopened her book. “We’re not reporters,” Grady said, angling his face in a way that suggested he was ducking and weaving my mother’s glare. “Saying it’s off the record doesn’t … that’s not questioning … that’s … never mind.”
“And just so we’re all clear,” my mother said. “If Erica did murder someone, it’s all your fault.” She ended with a vicious point at Grady.
“Mom, thanks, but I don’t think that’s helping,” I said, suddenly feeling tired. “I didn’t kill anyone, so I’m not afraid to answer a few questions.” I looked to Rhonda. “Maybe we could just get on with this?”
She nodded. “Okay, Ms. Bloom, let’s start with something easy. Where were you tonight?”
“I was having drinks at the Dawg with friends.” As the words came out of my mouth, I realized how wrong, wrong, wrong, they were, but my brain was too slow to stop them.
Hurt filled Rhonda’s eyes.
“Right,” she said. “The Dawg.” She made a note in her book, pressing the pen with a lot more force than necessary.
“Rhonda, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I—”
She held up a hand.
I was a terrible person.
“Why don’t we move on to the real reason we’re here, Rhonda.” Grady put a hand on her shoulder, flashing me a look reserved only for the worst sort of people.
Rhonda cleared her throat. “Okay, Ms. Bloom, where were you last night?”
“Here,” I said stiffly. “Remember, Grady? I was right here.” I pointed at the dock. “And then we were in there.” I pointed to the water. “And then you were all—”
“I remember,” Grady said, cutting me off with a lazy smile before snapping his face back to that of a law enforcement professional. “But that was early in the evening. What about after?”
“I joined the ladies for some therapy, and then I went to bed.”
“Have you ever seen this flyer?” Rhonda cut in, handing me the same Raspberry Social leaflet she had the last time.
I smacked my lips together sharply before saying, “Yes, Rhonda, you showed it to me the other day.”
“Interesting,” she said, narrowing her eyes on my face. “Ms. Bloom, what do you know about the illegal bonfire set in the middle of town square last night?”
I looked from her to Grady as alarm bells sounded in my head. “Nothing. I mean, Coach Waters said there was some sort of rumor about me and a bonfire, but he didn’t go into detail.”
Rhonda’s face tilted down toward her notebook, but her eyes peered up at me from underneath her brow bone. “Would it surprise you to know that we have several reports of a woman, matching your description, starting a bonfire last night at approximately three A.M. with stacks of these flyers.” She rattled the paper. “The arsonist then proceeded to run through the square, naked, shouting…” She paused to flip back through her notepad. “‘I’ll show you raspberries! Come see the raspberries!’”
I looked at my mother. Her dropped jaw said everything I was feeling.
“Yes, it would surprise me,” I said, trying not to stammer. “It would surprise me very much. Who said it was me?”
“Aaron Cummings for one.”
“Seriously? Mr. Cummings?” Mr. Cummings ran the local bait and tackle shop, was about sixty years old, and had been nearly blind since birth. “You’re taking Mr. Cummings’s word for it?”
“The witness considers himself to be an expert in female anatomy and reported that … that, quote, the cans were not as nice as he remembered from the social, but they did bear a certain resemblance to Boobsie Bloom’s. He went further to say that if you were willing to put them in a lineup, he’s sure he could identify them clearly.” Rhonda looked up from her notes again. “So?”
“So what?”
“Are you willing?”
“To do what?
“Be in a lineup?”
“No, I will not be in a boobs lineup!” I felt something like pain explode deep in my brain. It was probably an aneurysm. It was this lake. The lake was the real killer.
Rhonda made a tsking sound, and clicked her pen again. “Note, suspe
ct was uncooperative when asked to appear in a voluntary lineup.”
I looked at Grady. The barest hint of a smile touched his lips.
“I think we’ve probably got all we need for now, Rhonda,” he said, directing her by the shoulders toward the boat. Then he added, “I’ll be right there. I want a word alone with Erica.”
Grady watched Rhonda step into the creaky vessel, then turned back to face me. He brought a hand up to his forehead and massaged it a few times before he spoke.
“So, you were at the Dawg minding your own business?”
“I was.” I said it firmly but found it difficult to meet his eyes.
“We also have reports of two gangs of women, from this resort, asking a lot of questions around town. I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?”
“Hey, this is America,” I said, throwing my arms wide. “No law against asking questions.”
He took a quick step toward me. I tried to back up, but my mother wasn’t moving. “I don’t think you get how much worse you are making this for yourself.”
I held his gaze this time, even though the intensity of it was making me sweat.
“I did it!” my mother suddenly screamed.
Grady and I jumped. He recovered first. “Thank you … but that really isn’t necessary, Ms. Bloom,” he said, looking to my mother. “Do you think I could have a moment alone with Erica?”
“What for?”
I put a hand on hers. “Mom, it’s fine.”
I felt her mouth move close to my ear. “Okay, but remember, honey, I love you,” she whispered. “Even if you are going to be the death of me.”
She then turned and stomped toward the stairs, managing to look like an angry butterfly.
My eyes moved back to Grady. Maybe it was the fact that my brain still felt a little buzzy, but before I could stop myself, I said, “So … I was thinking that maybe we should talk.”
What was I doing? I hated talking. But there was the whole last-night thing. Then the boat thing. The Candace thing. That was a big thing. There was even the social thing, but we could strike that from the list if there wasn’t time. In fact, all the things were just starting to build up … and soon they might tumble down.
“Seriously?” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Now you want to talk?”
Skinny Dipping with Murder Page 15