Skinny Dipping with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “I’ve got to call Grady and tell him,” I said, reaching for my phone. “His family’s been going crazy.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll there, missy,” Freddie said, placing his hand on my arm. “I saw Tommy’s mother this morning when I docked at the marina. She looked just fine. Chatting up a storm, in fact, with Mr. Armstrong about the new line of snowmobiles he has coming in for fall. So really, if Grady’s worried, he might want to try talking to his family, because I’m guessing Tommy let his mom know he’s okay.”

  “But Grady said…” I was trying to remember what Grady had said. Actually, he hadn’t said much. I had just assumed. “It still doesn’t seem right. I think—”

  “Listen. We’re the ones who have being doing all the work. We deserve the first look.” Freddie put one finger on the laptop’s touchpad and slowly dragged the arrow over to the e-mail icon.

  “I don’t know, Freddie.”

  “Besides,” he said with a small shrug, “I think we’ve already established that Grady’s not exactly telling you everything about everything these days.”

  Dimples flashed before my eyes. “Open it.”

  Freddie double-tapped the pad. “I doubt he left anything incriminating around anyway. But, then again, it is Tommy we’re talking about.”

  We scanned the messages in his in-box. There looked to be about five thousand from Shelley. All in caps. All with an overuse of exclamation marks.

  “Wait, what’s that one,” Freddie said, pointing at the screen. “James Jones? That’s a fake name if I ever heard one.”

  This is the last e-mail you will be receiving from me. I assure you our business arrangement is concluded. Should you go to the police with your wild, unfounded accusations, or mention our involvement to anyone, you will regret it. I look forward to never hearing from you again.

  “Now, that’s interesting,” Freddie said, leaning back.

  “What do you think it means?”

  He blew a thin ribbon of air through his lips before answering. “Well, this is most likely the person that Tommy got the money from, right?”

  “Right. But what do we do?” I asked. “Now do we call Grady? Should I tell Candace Tommy’s squatting here?”

  “No and no,” Freddie said, eyes suddenly flashing. He whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Lucy, do I have an idea for you.”

  * * *

  “You’re judging me again.”

  “I didn’t say anything!” I protested.

  “I can feel it in your eyes,” Freddie said without removing his own from the computer screen. “And I’m doing all this to save your butt!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, walking over to his beer fridge to see what might be hiding inside. “It’s just kind of creepy that you know how to do this.”

  “I told you. I have never done this before. I looked into it, so I that I’d know how to protect myself,” he said, tapping the adhesive tape over his Webcam. “I don’t want anyone spying on me … unless I want them spying on me.”

  “This has to be illegal.”

  “I think we crossed that bridge with the break and enter.”

  “Candace knew we were going to the cabin,” I said. “Oh, shoot, that reminds me.” I grabbed my own cell and called up a number. “Voice mail … Hey Candace. Just so you know, there’s really no reason for you to go out to the cabin. Nobody was there except for the raccoons. An entire family is now living inside, and they have these creepy little hands, and there’s at least—”

  Freddie distracted me with frantic waving.

  “Too much detail is a dead giveaway for lying,” he whispered.

  “Um.” I bit my lip. “So don’t go to the cabin.”

  I almost hung up, but again Freddie waved his hand in the air.

  “Oh! But I wouldn’t turn the alarm back on either because of all the raccoons … you don’t need to know how many. Bye.”

  Freddie sighed. “Well, that didn’t sound at all suspicious.”

  I said nothing, just plopped myself down on the edge of the computer desk.

  “We should practice in advance next time.”

  I shook my head. “I really am starting to wonder if we’re bad people.”

  “Well, stop it. No good can come from wondering. Plus your wondering is getting loud, and it’s making it hard for me to hack into Tommy’s computer so that we can spy on him with his Webcam.” He squinted at the computer, typed a few more keys, and then said, “Bingo!”

  “It could not have been that easy.”

  “Oh, but it was.”

  Back when we were at the cabin, Freddie used his phone to send an e-mail to Tommy. An e-mail with an attachment program that we then opened. The program linked Tommy’s laptop to Freddie’s home computer, allowing us to spy on Tommy through his Webcam without his ever knowing. We then put the laptop back exactly where we found it under the sleeping bag. We figured that eventually Tommy would come back to the cabin and turn on his computer, allowing us to see what he was up to. If Candace discovered the laptop before Tommy returned, everything would be ruined.

  I stared at the screen. “Why is it all black though?”

  “I’m going to give you a moment to think that through.”

  “Oh, his laptop isn’t on,” I said, then slapped Freddie on the shoulder. “Stop being so snarky.”

  “Sorry, the brilliance of my plan is going to my head. I feel like a James Bond villain.”

  We both looked back to the blank screen.

  “This is a bit of a letdown,” Freddie said, biting off the edge of a fingernail.

  I went back to rummage in the fridge. “I guess there’s nothing to do but wait.”

  “Not exactly. I have to work,” Freddie said. “But I’ll leave the window open.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “Nah … actually no,” he said, snapping his fingers. “You can help me.”

  “Help you!” I shouted, popping up from the fridge. “Did you not hear me on the phone? I’m a terrible liar. I think fortune-telling is out for me.”

  Freddie pulled his Madame F turban down on his head. “Listen. It’s hard to keep things fresh, and you owe me. It’ll be great.” He grabbed me by the shoulders and plunked me into a chair in front of the computer. “Now don’t say anything, and try to look like you’re in a vegetative state.”

  Two hours and seventeen minutes later, I didn’t have to try anymore to look like I was in a vegetative state.

  At first, it was pretty interesting being Madame F’s ward, Katianna. Freddie kind of pulled together a story as he went along. Apparently I had suffered a traumatic head injury after jumping off a bridge with my star-crossed lover, who, sadly, didn’t survive. I was now brain-dead, which made me the perfect conduit to the other side. But now my butt hurt, and I wanted a drink of water.

  “I sense your great-aunt,” Freddie said, voice now sounding half Southern, half Hungarian. “She is near. Bring her to me, Katianna.”

  I tried to keep my eyes dead and forward, but I noticed the black box in the lower corner of the computer screen come to life.

  Tommy’s computer!

  Freddie hadn’t noticed it. He was swaying back and forth, summoning someone’s great-aunt, which probably meant his eyes were closed. I didn’t want to ruin his gig, but this was important.

  “Freddie,” I murmured out of the corner of my mouth.

  “Great-aunt Sonya,” he called out, voice swelling. “Where did you put the Christmas turkey platter?”

  Oh, for God’s sake.

  The computer chimed. Freddie’s client had written something. I looked at him sideways. He was peeking through one eye.

  “The large turkey platter,” he added, face tilted to the ceiling. “Not the small one!”

  I kicked him with the side of my shoe. He kicked me back.

  The computer chimed again.

  Freddie once more peeked at the computer then added, “The one with the woodland fruit motif!”

&nbs
p; My eyes shot to the lower screen.

  Tommy’s face!

  All right, enough was enough.

  Besides, Freddie’s Eastern European ghost voice was getting to me.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Yes, Aunt Sonya, use this vessel to speak your truth.”

  “Um, Freddie.”

  “Yes, Aunt Sonya,” he said with warning. “You had better know where the platter is or get back to the other side.”

  I motioned to the lower corner of the screen with my eyes.

  “Oh!” Freddie jumped. “We have to go!”

  The computer chimed again.

  “Try the cupboard in the basement.” Freddie fumbled to close the psychic chat window. Silence fell over us as Tommy’s unsuspecting face filled the screen. He looked tired, and maybe a little scared.

  “Oh, this feels wrong, wrong, wrong,” I whispered, pinning my hands between my legs.

  “You don’t have to whisper,” Freddie said, but he was kind of whispering too. “Do you want to turn it off?”

  “No,” I said. “I still care about me, and me not going to prison, but I wanted to say that out loud, so the universe knows, that I know, this is bad.”

  “’Cause that makes you a less bad person?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m not sure it works that way,” Freddie answered. “Wait. Why is he looking like that?” he asked with a point.

  Tommy’s eyes weren’t focused on his screen, but to the side of it, at something in the cabin. Then he pushed the computer off his legs, and we were left with a view of the battered couch.

  “Turn up the volume,” I said, waving at the keyboard.

  Freddie fiddled with some speakers, and we both leaned forward.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I heard Tommy’s distant voice say.

  Silence.

  “Who’s he talking to?” I whispered.

  Freddie shushed me, but then whispered, “I can’t tell, but the voice is definitely female.”

  We turned back to the computer.

  “She’s going to kill us.”

  Tommy’s voice was barely audible. I stopped breathing to hear better.

  “She killed Dickie. Then tried to kill Harry. We’re next. She doesn’t want anyone knowing about the money.”

  Freddie and I exchanged Oh my God eyes.

  “This is all Dickie’s fault. He probably tried to blackmail her for more money. Did he tell you anything?”

  Hairs stood up on the back of my neck. There was only one person Dickie would have been talking to outside of the boys. I mouthed the name Laurie.

  Freddie nodded.

  “She has to suspect I’m running from her. This is the last place she’ll look for me.”

  I knew it! There was only one female in town that I knew who had boat money. I turned to Freddie and mouthed, Candace.

  Freddie didn’t nod this time, but I knew by the look on his face, he was thinking the same thing.

  “I’ll get the rest of the money tomorrow. Then we should both get out of town.”

  Silence.

  We jumped as Tommy’s face suddenly appeared back in front of us.

  “I need to calm the hell down,” Tommy muttered.

  “What’s he doing?” I asked, still whispering.

  Freddie shook his head.

  Then Tommy slid the laptop away from him, down his legs. Then he grabbed the waistband of his pants with one hand, and slid the other hand—

  “Oh my God!” My hands flew to cover my eyes. “Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn it off!”

  Freddie made a grab for the mouse.

  I hit the floor, sending my wheeled office chair spinning.

  “No!” Freddie screamed.

  “Freddie? Freddie? Are you okay?”

  Silence.

  “Freddie! Did you get out in time?”

  I looked up to his face. The heels of his hands were pressed deeply into his eye sockets. “I’ll never unsee it. Never.” He then pushed away from the desk, still in his chair, and rolled toward the fridge. “Move!”

  I shuffled out of the way.

  He opened the little door and pulled out a beer.

  I struggled to get off the floor and back into my chair. My legs felt wobbly from all the adrenaline.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” Freddie said, twisting off the cap of the beer.

  “Now do you believe me?”

  He took a long sip then said in a shaky voice, “That doesn’t mean it was Candace.”

  “We know, now, it’s not Laurie because that had to be who Tommy was talking to! And whatever this is,” I said with emphasis, “it has to do with money and blackmail. Candace is the only person who makes even a little bit of sense.”

  “Why? Why would she have given money to those three?”

  Thoughts shuffled quickly through my mind.

  “You said that the guys were being more obnoxious than usual?” I asked, speaking my half-formed thought.

  “Yeah.”

  “What if they were doing that—not because they’re immature jerks, but because Candace was paying them.”

  “And why would Candace pay them to do that? She wants the lake to be attractive to potential customers. She—”

  Freddie stopped talking and looked at me. “You think she’s trying to get the old-timers to move out. Sell their properties.”

  I nodded. “It kind of makes sense. And you heard Tommy say that Dickie was probably blackmailing her for more money, hence the murder.”

  “I’m not sure hence the murder is something anyone should ever say. It’s like saying therefore I kicked the puppy or understandably the old lady was cross-checked.”

  “Stop it. You know what I mean.”

  “I’m really having trouble with this,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “Candace is a nice person, and I can’t help but think your feelings for Grady are pushing you to the wrong conclusion.”

  “Swear to God,” I said, slapping one hand over my heart and putting the other in the air. “This has nothing to do with me being jealous.”

  “Are you sure? The universe is listening.” Freddie rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. I fought the urge to look up too.

  “Okay, then,” I said, “who do you think Tommy was talking about?”

  “I don’t know, but this evidence is circumstantial at best.”

  I loudly blew some air out of my lips.

  “And,” Freddie said, “at the risk of not having my pitchfork ready for the lynch mob party to Candace’s, we didn’t actually see who Tommy was talking to.”

  I threw my hands up. “Haven’t you ever heard of … that … razor thingy?”

  “Occam’s?”

  I snapped my fingers. “Yes.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  I ignored Freddie as he laughed at his own joke.

  “This looks like a duck,” I said, counting off my fingers. “Quacks like a duck, and … does something else like a duck.”

  “Please stop trying to explain this to me. It’s painful.” Freddie tapped the desk with the top of his beer bottle. “I hear what you’re saying. I’m just not ready to convict Candace based on what we saw tonight.”

  I slumped back into my chair. “You used to be more fun,” I said halfheartedly.

  He was right. I knew he was right. The evidence was circumstantial at best. And accusing someone of being a murderer was a pretty big deal. Chicago Erica wouldn’t do it. We needed to be responsible about this. We needed to be levelheaded. We needed to put our petty jealousies aside and—

  “What we need is a trap!” Freddie suddenly shouted.

  I smiled as a little tear came to my eye.

  “Freddie, you are the absolute best friend a girl could ever have.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  After our initial enthusiasm wore off, we discovered devising a trap was harder than it had first seemed. We knew we were in trouble when we found ourselves discussing the merits of moving o
ur deliberations to a cave outfitted with one of those swiveling blackboards and our Internet search for the Acme Corporation resulted in nothing useful.

  After an hour or two, we decided to call it a day.

  As I drove Freddie’s extra boat back to the retreat, I went over the next steps in my mind. Even if we didn’t have a plan, at the very least, we had a direction. And while Freddie wasn’t convinced of Candace’s guilt, I was. There had always been something just a little off about those dimples.

  I felt a surprising calm come over me.

  Maybe it was the night wind brushing the hair from my face. Maybe it was being at the helm of a speedboat that cost more than a house. But, whatever it was, I was a woman on a mission. And it was time to take my life back.

  I slowed the engine as I approached the retreat. With the twinkling lights of the lodge peeking through the trees, it actually felt kind of homey. For once, I didn’t feel like my shoulders were hunched so high my head was at risk of disappearing. And that too was good because my first job was to face the women and shut them down.

  I pulled the boat in and tied it to the dock.

  I stood for a moment taking in the lodge above.

  My mother was right. They were good women. They had lent me support, and it had felt good.

  I breathed in the cool night air, tinged with the scent of campfire smoke.

  Yes, I was growing as a person. In a short period of time, they had taught me a great deal … but now it was time to get serious. When Freddie and I came up with a trap—which I had no doubt we would—I couldn’t risk the women mucking it up with their good intentions and thirst for cozy adventure.

  I trucked up the stairs full of purpose. I would be kind but firm. Grateful but resolved. Apologetic but uncompromising.

  I rested my hand on the heavy handle of the lodge’s door.

  I was captain of my own ship.

  I pushed into the entryway, and my jaw dropped.

  I was captain of a dinghy.

  The women, however, they … they had rebuilt the Titanic.

  Pushpins and string traced complicated patterns over maps covering one wall of the common room. Another wall showcased black-and-white photos of people, only half of whom I recognized.

  The women, meanwhile, buzzed around stacks of papers teetering on chairs and tables, each in turn holding out a mug to be refilled from the pitcher that sloshed with iced tea in my mother’s grip.