Death of a Hot Chick

by Norma Huss

  After we left, I told Kaye, “Boats are not like horses.”

  “Now that qualifies as a cryptic statement if I ever heard one.”

  More professor-speak. “I mean, those charities that provide horseback riding to the handicapped. I’ve seen pictures. They have special lifts to get the riders up on the horse, then others walk along on each side to keep the kid from falling.”

  “I know that. Certainly the handicapped can board a boat.”

  “Not unless you have a wheelchair accessible gangplank like a huge tourist ship.” “A problem that can be overcome, I’m sure. But there’s one thing Mr. Joline is wrong about,” Kaye said. “Nicole gave you joint ownership of her boat. Let’s see what we can do legally about that.”

  “It’s too late now to go to the Court House. It closes at two.” Okay, I should have walked out of the meeting and gone myself. Why didn’t I? Maybe because Mr. Joline is too charismatic. But that idea of his, not remotely practical without a lot of expensive alterations and some boaters who were willing to accept the risk. At a guess, I’d say that would be about—none.

  ~ ~

  “Courage, little boat. Wes will fix you,” I murmured when I returned to Snapdragon. It would cost me. And I’d probably owe more after my courthouse visit on Monday. But I’d work ’til I paid Wes off and in my spare time, discover who killed Nicole Joline. Piece of cake.

  I locked up and walked through the hole in the fence between the two marinas. Everything at Bayside Marina was bigger, better, cleaner, and more expensive. That meant more money to hire extra help.

  All my jobs came through Slim, so I asked for him.

  “Not here today,” the manager said and added with an enormous wink, “He’s got a girl friend.”

  “Well, good.” For him, anyway. “So, I guess there’s no jobs today.” Bummer.

  “Yeah, there’s one. We got a rush job right after he left. And he’s gone for the weekend.” The manager eyed me. “Aren’t you the gal who helps him?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Okay, you can start the job. You’ll still be working on it when he comes back. Plenty for both of you.”

  I worked the rest of the afternoon on a job very much like the work Nicole hired me for on Snapdragon—only this one was a much larger vessel, an older sailboat. All the teak was deeply ridged. It needed a lot of sanding, with layers of teak oil each time. Everything was teak—the deck and all the interior. At the end of the day, I left Bayside Marina, tired, slightly richer, and happy. But when I reached Snapdragon, that mood changed.

  Lizzie, the self-appointed marina mother hen, sat on my deck box. “Who’s that guy I saw on your boat? I don’t like his looks. Not at all.” She stood. “He wouldn’t tell me his name.”

  “On my boat? On the deck, right? Not inside.”

  “Coming out the door. That’s inside.”

  “But the boat was locked.” I yanked at the door. “It’s still locked. Did he take anything?”

  “Don’t know. I mean, when he said he was a friend, I let it go. Just thought maybe you needed better-looking friends.”

  I twisted the combination dial. “What did he look like?”

  “He was wearing a bunch of sloppy clothes. You know, worn out stuff, hanging off his rear. Me, I’m not up on junk like that. Except he had a hat, pulled down over most of his face. I figure he didn’t want to be recognized.”

  “Sloppy clothes, hat over the face. Anything else? Tall maybe?” I asked, thinking of Brandon.

  “Nah, shrimpy little guy. Big shoes without shoe laces.”

  Not Brandon. I beckoned for Lizzie to follow me into Snapdragon. Hesitantly, I opened the door to the cabin and stepped back, aghast at the sight. Drawers pulled out and emptied all over the floor, cupboard doors ajar with the plastic dishes littering the counter. Definitely not the way I’d left it. I edged toward the curtain-covered entrance to the V-berth. It was even messier. I’d made a little headway cleaning it out and left neat piles, in a variety of categories. There were no piles left. Just one big mess.

  “No way!” After all the work. “The guy went through everything here.”

  “Gotta call the police, kiddo.”

  “And you’ll tell them what you saw?” I asked as I pulled out my cell phone.

  What would anyone want in my boat? There was nothing of value, nothing, not even enough food for two meals.

  The title to the boat!

  Where had I left it? My mind went blank. After it dried I put it away. Where? I’d had it in with my twelve dollars under the.... The silverware tray was upside down on the floor with nothing left in the drawer. The bills were gone. But, I’d shown the title to Officer Yarnell. No, last night I’d shown Nicole. It was in a book. But had I put it back? When did I show it to Gregory?

  I grabbed the bed cushions, yanked them off, tugged the wall board that hid the bedding, the pillow, and the book, without its title bookmark.

  “It’s gone!”

  I sank down on the bed cushion. No, that’s not where I left it. I....

  Reached in my pocket. The title, still there. I’d taken it to lunch, hoping to go on to the courthouse and—forgotten to remove it.

  “It’s here.”

  “What’s here?” Liz asked.

  “Something that I’m going to put in a safe-deposit box at the bank as soon as possible.”

  “But you’ll call the police?”

  “You bet,” I said, although I was sure if anything had been taken, it was nothing of value. Not to me. Not valuable like the title to Snapdragon.

  Chapter 5

  Early evening

  “Cheer up, kiddo. All is not lost.”

  I raised my chin from my cupped hands. “Hi Teddy,” I said.

  “Such enthusiasm, such an overabundance of energy.” Teddy climbed aboard Snapdragon and sat beside me on the deck box. “You know I cover the police station too.”

  “So you heard about my break-in?”

  “What? No. What happened? When?”

  “Earlier today. So, what were you going to tell me?”

  “First why did you call the police? It’s news,” she said, flashing her recorder from somewhere. “Tell me.”

  “Not news. Nothing taken. Combination changed since. Sorry to interrupt whatever brought you here. Besides my underabundance of energy.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded.

  She continued. “I was talking to Emily. You know Emily. Well, maybe you don’t. She’s the police office receptionist. Just back from vacation, so we gabbed a bit. Only thing she has on Nicole’s murder was a person of interest, which she figured was a hoot and a half—her actual words—because it was so ridiculous. I mean, just because a person discovers a body and reports it—”

  “Me? I’m the person of interest?” I stepped backward.

  “She figures the powers-that-be are inventing stuff. But they do know Nicole was seriously seeing some man. They just don’t know who. One would suppose that could be the way to go, right?”

  “Right. Anyone but me.”

  “Then Emily invited me back to the kitchen for cookies. Did you know they’ve updated the place a bit more? They took out the old range and put in a microwave which left room for a small fridge and one of those coffee makers that heats water for soup, hot chocolate—”

  “Hey, I’m not that familiar with the local police station. You’d think I was some kind of crook who spent my time there. Hasn’t writing news done anything about the way you ramble all around a subject?”

  Teddy shoved me, which nearly pushed me off the deck box. I shoved back, but not so hard that it did any more than nudge her.

  “So what else did you find out at the police station?” Or was this her cheer-Cyd stop of the day?

  “The police are looking for witnesses, which one would suspect. The cookies that the first responder donated were yummy. That’s the ambulance driver, or maybe it was a funeral home driver. Anyway the driver borrowed a body
bag from the police and thanked them with cookies. Obviously Kaye’s cookies from the school bake sale.”

  Like nobody else made desserts but Kaye, which I didn’t mention. “Uh, huh. Cookies. Then....”

  “Doug came in and snatched a couple. You, of course, know Officer Yarnell, our—”

  “Yes.”

  “This is the best part. He ignored me completely, but he warned Emily about talking to me. The quote was....” Teddy reached for her recorder.

  “Just tell me.”

  “He said, ‘You better look out for her.’ He meant me, but get this. I’m standing right there listening, and he acts like I’m invisible and tells Emily he didn’t want me to hear anything about Nicole Joline’s boat, or to visit my ‘friend Cyd Denlinger.’ ”

  “Which is why you came straight here.”

  “Naturally. So, what do you think? What does Nicole’s boat have to do with anything?”

  “Could be about the title. Could be about the gangster who used to own Snapdragon. Could be our friend Doug is remembering what a good detective you were back in third grade.”

  Teddy grinned. “You think?”

  “Could be that all these years he has been secretly pining away for the touch of your lips on his.”

  She bopped me on the shoulder, and asked, “Can you believe it? Doug called me, ‘our favorite muck-raker.’ ”

  “Encouraging. Next he’ll call you his favorite muck-raker.”

  Teddy jumped up, doing a much better job of nearly pushing me off the deck box. “Try to do a friend a favor, and what does she do? Makes fun.” She stepped off the boat onto the dock.

  “See you,” I called after her. A good-cheer visit, definitely. She didn’t even ask any more about my break-in.

  Nicole had a boyfriend? I wondered who.

  ~ ~

  Late evening

  If there was ever a moment when I didn’t want to see Kaye, it was after a long, tiring, worrisome day. Without even saying, “Permission to come aboard,” she stepped through my door and let out a well-modulated shriek.

  “Yeah, it’s a mess, but I didn’t do it,” I told her. “Blame it on an uninvited intruder. Lizzie saw him leave my boat. Sounded like a bum, but it was somebody who knew the combination.”

  “I hope you’ve changed it. Don’t tell me you used the same one Nicole had.”

  “Yes, and yes. So, anyone who got the combination from Nicole....”

  “What did the intruder steal?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe he did get something, but I don’t know what. He didn’t get the title, which is the only thing I care about. And do you realize it’s too late for a visit?”

  Kaye passed me and peeked into the forward cabin. “What an unholy—”

  “Didn’t I just say it was a mess? You should have seen the neat piles I had before some unknown goon tossed the place.”

  “Everything in its place, I suppose?” Kaye said with her usual disdain for my organizational abilities.

  “It was almost this bad when I took over.”

  “You think the intruder wanted the title, but what if he didn’t? What if there are untold riches buried among this litter?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “No, think of it. Look at that room back there.”

  “You’re turned around. That room back there is actually in the front of the boat. You entered from the back.”

  “Semantics,” Kaye said. “Do you think Nicole might have hidden something valuable back, ah, that is, in the front, in that bedroom?”

  “She only had the boat for a few days. Did you say Nicole sort of won Snapdragon?”

  “No, she obtained it as collateral for an unpaid loan. If she’s lending money to others, you can hardly claim she was unable to refund your expenses.”

  “Hey, if I loaned somebody big bucks, I’d be broke too.”

  Kaye did the big-sister snort. “Let’s get busy. I’ll help you clean up.”

  I couldn’t turn down that offer. I pulled out two large trash bags and headed for the forward cabin. “I’ve got to do something about my title. Hide it somewhere.”

  Kaye took one of the bags. “Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up early. Since it’s Saturday, the bank will only be open until two. You need insurance and a safe-deposit box for the title. And then you can help me.”

  I plowed through a pile of crushed Pepsi cans. “Nope. Wes will be here.”

  “Wes?”

  “You know. The marina manager. He told us about Pop. He’s so eager to get rid of me, he put me on the top of his list for repairs.”

  Kaye picked up one can with two fingers, stared at it from all sides. “Excuse me? The boat needs repairs?”

  I snatched the can, dumped it into my bag. “A check-up, really. Like an auto tune-up. Wes is coming tomorrow, six sharp. I’m the designated gofer.”

  Kaye picked up another empty can. “I don’t suppose you had a neat pile of crushed cans. Did the intruder bring them?”

  “They were in a trash bag inside the deck box, waiting for a few more discards before I hauled them up to the recycling bin behind the office.”

  “Just a guess. Your intruder didn’t find what he wanted, so he showed his displeasure by dumping the cans inside,” Kaye said.

  “Gee thanks. Does that mean he’ll be back?”

  “No. He’ll look elsewhere. Actually, I need your help tomorrow. We’ll still have time. We’ll do the bank and your insurance first. Will you be through by ten?”

  Why was my sister so eager to help clear the aftermath of the robbery? Simple. She had some secret agenda. But she had offered a ride to the bank. And I really needed that insurance. “Not sure. I’ll call you when Wes leaves. Might take all morning. But the bank will still be open.”

  “Yes. And I want to discuss a volunteer opportunity with you.”

  “Kaye, I need paying jobs, not a freebie.”

  “No problem. I just need your opinion on boats. Only a couple of hours all together. Surely you can do that. Let’s say, an hour tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see.” I should have known who she’d choose for a committee member.

  At least Kaye pitched in to help. “You said you had organized piles. What kind do you want?”

  “Trash, recyclable, and usable.”

  Kaye didn’t answer, just poked an armful of cans into a bag.

  After an hour, I called a halt. “I’m beat. Call it a night?”

  Kaye rolled her shoulders, then rubbed her arms. “Definitely.”

  “And, you’re right, I’ve got to get insurance. I hope the same company will take me on. They had to pay out on Honey.” I pulled the title out of my pocket and smoothed the folded paper. “I have to store this somewhere. I mean, I can’t be carrying it around. And I need copies.”

  “Definitely,” Kaye repeated.

  “The former owner was named Chester Foltz.”

  “Yes, we determined that already,” Kaye said, then poked the paper. “But he got the boat from somebody else.”

  “The gangster.”

  “Okay, what’s this gangster story?”

  “You were here. You heard Wes. That’s why he wants Snapdragon out of here by the end of July.”

  “I just naturally figured Wes for a crabby old man telling ridiculous stories.”

  “Nope.”

  Kaye turned the title over, then over again, like she’d find some secret that wasn’t there. “Arthur Estep is a gangster?”

  “Guess so. He’s called Pop, according to Wes.”

  “Oooh, let me think,” Kaye bit her lip and closed her eyes. After a long moment, her eyes popped open. “I remember the trial. He’s a bad one. And he’s getting out?”

  “It’s my boat.”

  “I’d better take your title home for safekeeping. Call me when you’re through with the repair work. I’ll find a lawyer. I’ll research it tonight on the web.”

  Kaye snatched the title, waved, and was gone.

  “Hey,” I yelled, but Kaye
kept going. All of a sudden my little boat had become poison. Why? Because Snapdragon once belonged to a scary guy? Because my boat had been ransacked? Maybe not for the title. The intruder couldn’t take it because it wasn’t there. But, did he take away some other prize?

  Or not? I hadn’t thought of the can dumping as retaliation. Maybe Kaye was right.

  Was something hidden? Where hadn’t anyone looked? What wasn’t messed up?

  I had pulled the seat out and opened the bed earlier. Now I took it apart, yanked everything off: the sheets, pillows, cushions underneath, and those behind. I rubbed my hands over every inch I couldn’t see. Felt underneath the top.

  Nothing but dirt and dust balls.

  Anywhere else to look? I glanced around the cabin. Every drawer had been opened, every shelf swept clean, and the V-berth was a disaster zone.

  There must be something about the boat.

  “What is it, Nicole? Is there a secret?” I asked aloud, but no one answered.

  ~ ~

  Saturday, July 22, 6:21 a.m.

  Six, he’d said six sharp. Why had I rushed? My supplies were lined up: tool kit, teak oil, buffing compound—but nothing to repair an ailing engine. Finally I heard the clunk of the boat cart with the wobbly wheel. Wes had arrived.

  “See you’re ready,” he said and started off-loading his tools. “What’s she need again?”

  “Filters for one thing. Don’t know what else.”

  Wes pulled the cabin sole hatch open and got on his knees to look into the engine. “They expect you to be a contortionist,” he muttered. He squatted and moved around, poking and rubbing with his rag. “Okay, hand me that Phillips head screw driver, and not the....”

  I handed him the screw driver, trying not to listen to his description of anything metric. He kept muttering, swearing, and asking for things.

  “Three quarter inch wrench,” he said.

  I scrounged among his tools, handed him what he needed and waited for further instructions. He replaced hose clamps, removed screws to clean and oil before replacing them. “One of these hoses might give you problems in a few months,” he said. “Want a new one now?”

  “Um, no. Not right now.” However, I added a mental note to my check list. Something else to consider if I couldn’t sell Snapdragon.