Skinny Dipping with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  Time stopped for a second.

  Be a good person.

  “Well, I think I’m going to take his advice, and let the whole thing drop.”

  “Really? That’s too bad. I mean you’re probably right. I don’t know why I even suggested it. This could mean real trouble for you,” she said as though I didn’t already know that. “I guess I just thought it could be kind of fun. Girl detectives on the case, you know?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I mean I totally respect Grady’s ability to get the job done. But Rhonda? Love the girl to death. I have a beer with her at least once a week, but it’s just … I don’t know,” she said, searching my eyes. When I gave her nothing, she opted for another track. “You know what? I’m going to be quiet now. I just hope the police are doing their jobs.”

  I had no idea what to say, so I settled for a nod.

  She nodded back. “But look, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Okay.”

  “Grady.” She gave me a small smile that could only be described as smitten. “We’ve been spending some time together. I wouldn’t call it dating necessarily, but, well, this is a small town. People talk. And I wanted to make sure I wasn’t stepping on anybody’s toes.”

  Her eyes flicked down to my feet and stayed there a moment before she flicked them back up, lower lip trapped sweetly between her teeth.

  Oh, God, why couldn’t she be the killer and just end this now?

  “Nope,” I said carefully. “My toes are great.”

  Now if I could only stop my face from twitching.

  “What a relief! I mean Grady is so sweet.”

  “Sweet? Really?”

  “Oh, yeah, he’s such a big puppy dog. And I get the feeling that he doesn’t have a disloyal bone in his body.”

  “Huh.”

  She paused. “Oh, great. I’ve done it again. You’re probably thinking about the social. He told me all about it.”

  Heat rolled up my neck to my face. “Did he now?”

  “Can I just say,” she said, placing her hand over her heart. “Actually forget say … I’d like to give you a hug. Can I give you a hug?” she asked, stepping forward.

  “No.”

  Candace froze mid-step, arms hovering straight out in front of her.

  “I mean, I think I’m getting sick.” I really was. Positively nauseous in fact.

  “You do look flushed.” She let her arms drop. “Well, Grady feels terrible about that night. He’d really like to apologize to you, but he’s not sure you’re ready to hear it.”

  I tried to focus on what she was saying, but it was hard to hear over the person screaming in my head.

  “It all happened a long time ago,” I said. “I don’t blame Grady.”

  “That’s what I said!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air before dropping them dramatically like a broken puppet. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sounds horrifying. And what were you, eighteen? Nineteen? But the moment I met you, I knew you were a pretty cool chick. There’s no way you’d be wallowing in some teenage prank. I mean give her a little credit, Grady.”

  “Yeah, give me a little credit, please,” I said, chuckling.

  A moment of awkward silence passed.

  “You know what?” I said suddenly. “I think maybe we should keep on investigating.”

  I was a terrible person.

  “Really?” Candace asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely!” I clapped my hands together with a loud crack. “Let’s go to your place and discuss. Any minute, the retreat will be crawling with women.”

  “Oh, I don’t think we should go to my place,” she said, looking down at her coffee, giving it a swirl. “That’s why I came here. I was out late last night, and the place is a mess. Plus I don’t have any snacks! I hate having guests over without snacks. Why don’t we have breakfast at the Dawg?”

  Three things. First, nobody has breakfast at the Dawg unless they want a coronary at forty. Second, I did not miss the I was out late comment, but I absolutely could not go there right now. And third, it seemed awfully suspicious that Candace didn’t want me in her place.

  Time to put the screws to her.

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” I said, suddenly overflowing with warmth and enthusiasm. “I don’t mind. I’d love to see what’s been done to the Millers’ old place. That’s where you’re renting, right?”

  “Right, but—”

  “Well, come on! Let’s go!”

  “You’re still in your pajamas.”

  “Right,” I said, pointing at her. “I’ll change quickly.”

  “I still don’t think—” Suddenly Candace’s phone began to trill the song “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.” “I’ve got to take this.”

  I’ll go get dressed, I mouthed. I casually walked around the corner of the hallway before I flattened my back against the wall to listen.

  A few moments passed before I heard Candace say, “Yes, sir. No, everything is on track.”

  If I wasn’t mistaken, she sounded nervous.

  “Absolutely, I look forward to your coming to the social. And yes, I am aware of how much the Raspberry cost.” She paused. “But these people, sir, when you meet them, you’ll understand. Everyone in Otter Lake is so nice and welcoming.”

  Images of Kit Kat, Tweety, Grandpa Day, among others, flitted through my mind. This girl certainly had an interesting way of looking at the world.

  “Yes, sir. I am aware of the stakes. Good-bye.”

  Crap! I needed to get dressed. I ran as quickly and quietly as I could down the hall and pulled on the first pair of jeans I could find, along with a T-shirt.

  A moment later I was shuffling back down the hall still fastening the top button of my jeans.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  “Oh, fine,” she said, but her voice didn’t sound fine. “Just work, you know. Change is always hard for small towns, and the company has a lot invested in this development.”

  Hmm, invested enough to kill?

  “Are you okay?”

  I realized during my inner monologue my eyebrow had gone up quite high with my suspicions. “Fine. Fine. Ready to go?”

  “Oh, I can’t now.”

  “Really?” I asked, working hard to keep my eyebrow down.

  “My boss suddenly wants all of the financials for the last couple of months, and I have a million things to do before the social. I shouldn’t even be here now,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “But I figured all work and no play…”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “And to top it off, one of the properties we purchased—a hunting cabin just outside of town—something tripped the alarm.” She poked at her phone. “It happens all the time. Seriously, like once a week. There’s a family of raccoons living under the floor, but we have to have alarms at all of our properties, and I have to go check them out when they go off. Due diligence, insurance, and all that.”

  “Which cabin?”

  “The one off the dirt road near Hunter’s Corners.”

  “That’s not too far from Freddie’s place,” I said, suddenly feeling very savvy. Missing people. Cabin outside of town. It could be nothing … or … it could be something. “We could check it out for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. What if it’s not a raccoon? I mean it probably is, but … oh, that’s why you’re going,” she said, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “You’re investigating. I want to come.”

  I pouted my lower lip. “But you’re so busy.”

  “I am,” she said with sad eyes.

  “And it’s probably raccoons.”

  “It is,” she said with resignation. “But, you know what? This is a bad idea. Just in case something happens, I don’t want to put you in any danger, and I don’t want to get myself fired.”

  I began walking to the door. “You’re probably right.”

 
“You agreed to that very quickly,” she said, taking a step toward me, unable to resist the polite pressure of being shown out. “You’re still planning on going, aren’t you?”

  I put up my fingers in what I thought was a scout’s promise, but it might have been the Vulcan “Live Long and Prosper” sign.

  “I would probably do the same thing.” Candace sighed. “But don’t break an ankle or anything. And while the alarm should be off now, if you trip it, call me.”

  I nodded.

  “I still have to head over there myself once I take care of some paperwork just so I can say that I did.” She looked like the saddest little yellow duckling ever as she made her way to the door. “And call Grady if anyone is there. Don’t be a hero.”

  “Your concern has been noted,” I said, nodding sharply.

  She smiled, popping her dimples back into place. “You’re pretty funny, you know that?”

  “I’m glad somebody thinks so.”

  For a second, I thought I saw what Freddie liked so much about her, but they do say that sociopaths are often charming.

  I shut the door behind Candace and made a beeline for my mother’s old flip phone. Mine was still a little wet from the boat explosion.

  “Freddie, I got us a hot lead.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Why’d you have to pick today to go traipsing through the woods?”

  Freddie’s overcoat flapped in front of me. Underneath he wore a T-shirt, basketball shorts, and the same Doc Martens he used to wear back in high school. “It’s cold, rainy, and the mosquitoes are brutal.”

  “I didn’t pick it,” I said, stepping over a tree root. “We’re following a lead.”

  “A stupid lead.”

  I had filled Freddie in on everything that had happened since I left him at the bar the night before. He had listened, but without much enthusiasm.

  “Are you okay?”

  He made a huffing sound. “Finally, she asks about me.”

  I stopped walking and flipped a piece of hair out of my face. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the book,” he said, still walking, swatting away branches with limp arms.

  “What’s wrong with the book?”

  Finally he stopped. “Writing is hard! I have writer’s block!”

  “You only started yesterday,” I reasoned. “How can you have writer’s block?”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, resuming his steps. “You’re not an artist.”

  I scrambled over a slippery log trying to catch up. “Well, maybe today will inspire you.”

  “Madame F doesn’t think so.”

  “Freddie, you’re Madame F.”

  “Exactly.”

  We walked the final bit in silence. Obviously, I did not know how to feed Freddie’s artistic soul, but at least he was here, grumpy or not. Then something else occurred to me. Maybe the book thing wasn’t the only problem.

  “Um, I feel like it’s possible I owe you an apology for last night.” I hated apologizing, but given my behavior at the Dawg, maybe it was warranted.

  “Forget it. Blowups are bound to happen between us,” Freddie replied, waving the thought off. “The way I see it, there are some really good people in the world, and then there’s people like us. You’re a mean and very cheap drunk, and I hide behind friends in bar fights. It’s part of what makes us work.”

  We came to the edge of the clearing. The rundown cabin stood a few feet ahead. I slowed down, but Freddie kept plowing forward.

  “What are you doing?” I shout-whispered.

  He turned. “I’m going up to the cabin.”

  I was still hidden behind a tree while Freddie stood on what I imagined was supposed to be the front lawn. “What if somebody’s in there?”

  “I am so not in the mood for this today,” he said, planting his hands on his hips. “I’m going up there and knocking, like any normal person would do when greeting a family of raccoons.”

  “Don’t you think we should watch it for a bit?”

  “If somebody’s in there, they’ve already heard us,” he said, raising his voice nearly to a shout. “Now come on.”

  I moved out from behind the tree. This still didn’t feel right, but Freddie was already knocking on the door.

  “Hello? Mr. Raccoon? We’re here to have a few words with you about an alarm?”

  Suddenly I noticed a smile on Freddie’s face.

  “Are you having fun now?” I asked, joining him on the shaky porch.

  “Okay, maybe this is better than being at home with my artistic demons.” He chuckled. “Hello? Mr. Raccoon? Good times.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Glad you think so. I—WAH!”

  A loud thump sounded inside.

  I clutched Freddie’s arm. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Somebody might be inside after all.”

  “What do we do?” I asked, but I was already subconsciously pulling Freddie back with me toward the forest.

  “We’re going to look in the window,” he said with the slightest quaver in his voice.

  “You’re nuts!” I let go of his arm and jumped off the porch. “Come on!”

  “We are never going to figure out what’s going on if we run away every time we actually run into someone!” He looked at the window but didn’t actually move toward it.

  “You’re forgetting Grandpa Day nearly shot you in the head!”

  “Stop it!” he spat. “You’re freaking me out!”

  “Good!”

  He brushed me off with a hand then took a step toward the window.

  “Freddie,” I said, running up the porch stairs before deciding against it and running back down. “Think about it. If they’re friendly, why haven’t they come to the door? They have to have heard everything we’ve been saying. Now get away from there.”

  He swatted again in my direction.

  I was wringing my hands. Literally wringing my hands. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want Freddie to die. Grady was right all along. I should have list—

  “Raccoons.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “A whole family of them. I think they were sleeping, and we woke them up.”

  As the adrenaline seeped away, I was surprised to find that I was actually a little disappointed. I really thought we might have been on to something.

  “Wait a minute,” Freddie called out, still peering in the window. “There might be something going on here after all.”

  “What do you mean?” I ran up the stairs to stand beside Freddie.

  “That sleeping bag over there on that scary old couch.” He pointed at the glass. “That looks kind of new. And … is that a laptop I see peeking out underneath it?”

  “Holy crap! I’m going in.” I scurried over to the door and turned the knob. It didn’t open, but it felt loose. I gave it a shove with my shoulder.

  “Now who’s the reckless one?” Freddie asked, but he joined me at the door, and we pushed it together. It gave.

  Five angry raccoons turned on us and hissed.

  “Uh-oh,” I said, once again grabbing Freddie’s arm.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said slowly. “Raccoons can smell fear.”

  “All that does is make me more afraid.”

  “And they can smell it.”

  We huddled together for a moment.

  “What do we do?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know. It’s your turn,” Freddie said, giving me a small slap on the arm. “Raccoons freak me out with their masks and creepy little human hands.”

  “I’m not feeling it,” I said.

  Freddie gave me a push forward. “Fake it until you make it.”

  All the raccoons hissed again. One of them got up on its hindquarters.

  “Begone!” I shouted, waving my arms in a circle. “Begone!”

  The raccoons started.

  “Begone?” Freddie barked. “Really? Begone? You’re too much.”


  Freddie’s delight in my raccoon-whispering proved distressing for the furry beasts. They scattered through a side door leading toward the back of the cabin.

  “Well, that takes care of that,” I said, slapping my hands together. “Do you think we triggered the alarm again?” I looked around, trying to spot it.

  Freddie pointed to a bashed-up keypad, dangling from the wall. “I think we’re good.”

  I walked over to the laptop and pulled it out from underneath the sleeping bag.

  Both Freddie and I sat on the couch.

  “Can you even get Internet out here?”

  “Yup, another perk from the development company,” Freddie said. “Free wireless for six months.”

  As we waited for the computer to load up, I asked, “So are people really upset about the development or are they just looking for something to talk about?”

  “Oh, they pretty much believe Satan is behind it,” he answered, shuffling around, trying to stay afloat on the sinking sofa. “Everybody loves Candace, but nobody wants the type of change her company’s bringing in.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “It’s hard to stop progress though,” Freddie added. “There are a lot of seniors on the lake, and taxes are going up. They need to sell, and nobody’s going to beat the development company’s prices. It’s already started happening. Of course, there’s a few holdouts, but even they’re starting to reconsider. The lake isn’t what it used to be.”

  “How so, wise one?”

  He gave me an unimpressed slow blink with his eyes, but answered anyway. “Their way of life is dying. The younger generation around here is full of bums. Myself probably included.” Freddie suddenly looked puzzled like he had never considered this before. “It’s like nobody wants to work or grow up. They just want to buzz around the lake and act like idiots. If anything, it’s getting worse as they get older. It’s kind of sad. Grady’s like the most mature person of our generation.”

  “Wow,” I said, stunned. “That is sad.”

  Freddie sighed. “Now I’m sad.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be.”

  We both turned back to the computer.

  “Jackpot!”

  The screensaver was a picture of Tommy pretending to do something to his boat that was probably illegal in at least a few states.