Death of a Hot Chick

by Norma Huss

  “So you’re stone-walling.”

  What could I say? “Yep. That’s it.” I looked at the dwindling pile of crabs. “You’ll have to finish those. I’m full.”

  “Not even one more?”

  “I saved enough room for my cup cake,” I said. It was my turn to watch him eat. He winked and whacked a crab claw. I remembered crab feasts on the shore from years past, when I was a teen and madly in love with Gregory. He was still too damned sexy. I waited my chance to jump up and help clear tables. Do anything. I sat back cross-legged on the blanket. I finished my drink and rubbed my sticky fingers in the sand.

  Suddenly, Gregory grabbed me in his arms. “Hey,” I yelled and pushed back, but he held on tight.

  “You need to wash those hands,” he said.

  “Nooooo.” But I knew I couldn’t stop him. Gregory ran into the water, slowing as it deepened. As I struggled, I realized the Scouts were following their leader. I wasn’t the only one due for a dunking. At thigh level he tossed me in and followed, taking me under with him.

  I fought my way up, stood and wiped the water from my eyes and squeezed out my hair. “You dirty dog, you,” I said. Then I spoiled it by giggling. I splashed him, and pushed myself backward trying to swim away from him. He charged, and I ducked underneath him, then pulled him down. Which was a mistake. A big one. He kissed me under the water. And I kissed back.

  Chapter 21

  Snapdragon looked more like a working boat, but it had the refrigerator, the ice maker, and the electric head of a party boat. The everyday living arrangements came up short. There was no hot shower, only a cold-water shower in the outside cockpit, planned for swimmers emerging from the bay. After I watched Gregory drive away, after I was satisfied that no one lurked beyond the dim dock lights, I pulled my shorts and top off, grabbed the soap, and turned on the water.

  “Brrrr.” I rinsed salt out of my hair, off my body. I pulled my toes apart and sprayed away gobs of sand. I stuck the nozzle inside my bra and shivered as the cold hit me. I sudsed my body quickly and sprayed. I grabbed the towel, wrapped it tight, and aimed the spray at my T and shorts.

  “No!” Abruptly I pulled the hose back and turned off the water

  “Nicole’s note,” I mumbled. It was in my shorts pocket. It had been immersed for how long? Was all of Nicole washed away? I slid my hand inside the pocket, carefully pulled the plastic bag out. The non-waterproof plastic bag. Nicole’s note wasn’t dripping, but it was completely wet. I pulled the sodden paper out. Unfolded it. There was barely any sign of Nicole’s angular script.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I took the paper inside, laid it on the sink drain board. Blotted it with paper towels. “So sorry,” I repeated.

  I should have left the note behind I told myself as I rubbed my skin dry. But I didn’t know Gregory would take me to a crab feast at the shore. How could I? I donned my pajamas and wrapped the towel around my head.

  “Blame Gregory,” I said aloud wondering if Nicole lurked nearby.

  Was that all I should blame Gregory for?

  He’d wanted to come inside. He must have heard the rumors of Pop’s loot, wanted to help me look. Why did everybody want to come inside my boat? Was the killer one of them?. Couldn’t be Gregory. But why did he want to search the boat?

  I’d almost invited him inside. He’d been sweet. Sweeter than I remembered back in high school. Even then, he drank. Not as much as he drank later, but too much. I’d told myself, “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Al had been sweeter. He’d taken Gregory home so often. We’d put him to bed, the two of us. My boyfriend’s friend, just helping him. Then he’d take me home. And after a while, we didn’t need Gregory any more. Al didn’t drink. I’d married him and found out what he did do. Not the ladies. I didn’t know about that until after he disappeared. But he wanted his little woman at home, taking care of hubby. He didn’t want me fooling around with commercial shipping. Too rough for his dear wife. My little sailboat would be enough for us. And finally, after I was completely isolated from old friends, he and my sailboat were gone, never to return.

  Someone from the Coast Guard told me, “The boat was burned to the water-line. No survivors.”

  I unwound the towel and combed my damp hair. Fluffed it, brushed it, toweled it again. “You don’t want to know any of that, do you Nicole?” I asked. She didn’t want to know anything about Gregory either. Not even that he wanted to come inside Snapdragon. “To help you look for Pop’s loot,” he’d said. How did he know about Pop’s loot?

  Seemed like everyone had heard that rumor. But suddenly I said, “You needed money, Nicole. Did you find it?

  “Of course not. Forget I said that.”

  Why couldn’t I think straight? What if Finley killed her cousin? What if Gregory killed Nicole? Now they both knew that Lizzie wouldn’t be on her boat. But Finley knew more. She knew Lizzie hadn’t really seen anything. But Gregory? He’d talked to Lizzie. Found she’d be hidden somewhere, some time. Had she told him more?

  He had no motive to kill, at least none that I could see. He was only pushing a bit, trying to get inside Snapdragon. Not unexpected. Not after we’d sat on the back of my boat, our wet bodies wrapped in his blanket. Snuggling. Kissing. Twice. Then I’d pushed him away. “Time for you to leave,” I’d said. That’s when he asked to come inside.

  I took Nicole’s note, still completely damp and limp. I held it between my hands. “Okay, Nicole, I’m calling you. Are you on Snapdragon? Do you hear me?”

  No answer.

  Maybe the single hair I’d found still held her spirit. I got the plastic bag from its hiding place in the V-berth. I laid the hair across the note, then touched it gently with my finger. “Nicole?” I glanced at the corner. No dark, hazy lump growing into life. “Nicole?” I repeated.

  Still no answer.

  I put the strand of hair back in the plastic bag. Laid down and put the note on my forehead. I rubbed my ears and scratched my neck. Closed my eyes. Could I see Nicole? Could she hear my thoughts?

  No way. All that crazy stuff I did when I was little—convinced my sister. But it was a sham. Had I really seen things then? Or was it all my imagination?

  Nicole wasn’t my imagination.

  Forget Nicole. Forget ghosts. Think of the living. I spoke aloud. “I hardly know this Gregory who doesn’t drink. Doesn’t turn blotto by the evening’s end. Tastes of Coke and crab instead of beer.’

  He wasn’t the only one who had wanted to come inside Snapdragon. Others did too. The murder suspects.

  Those Scouts. They respected him. They really did.

  “He’s the same. But so different.”

  ~ ~

  Sunday, July 30

  I dropped my coins in the slot and pulled out the next-to-last Sunday Orbit from the box in front of the marina. Most of the front page was filled with kids and headlines like, “TAKE THAT VACATION BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS.” Several articles started and, after a couple of paragraphs, were continued inside. Nothing with Teddy Huertes’ byline. An index listing news items referred the reader to other inside pages. Definitely wasn’t a big news day.

  Where was Teddy’s article?

  A car pulled up beside me. Some kind of limousine with mirror windows. I tucked the paper under my arm and retreated two steps before I heard the tiny metallic whir of the electronic window winding down.

  “Ms. Denlinger?”

  A man I could barely see sat behind the car window

  “Who are you and why do you want to know?” I asked

  “My name doesn’t matter,” he said with a smile that definitely didn’t make me happy. “I have a message for you from Mr. Joline.”

  “Then my name doesn’t matter either.” I stepped back. I had seen him before, but when? And where?

  He repeated, a lot stronger, “Ms. Denlinger, I suggest you listen.”

  I glanced his way. He wasn’t holding a gun, at least not that I could see. His elbow jutted out as he rested his arm on the window
frame. “Just exactly why should I listen to you?” I asked.

  “You are trespassing on private property. Nicole Joline’s boat belongs to her father. You will be arrested and charged with a crime.”

  They couldn’t do that. He was trying to scare me. I took a deep breath, then added another for courage. “Whoever you are, my lawyer has the title, and it is registered in my name. Mr. Joline has no claim to Snapdragon.”

  “And you have the funds to prove that in court?” he asked with that wicked smile. “Does your lawyer know which judge he’d be appearing before?”

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “Just remember,” he said, then rolled up his window and zoomed away.

  I did the only thing I could think of. I turned tail and ran—back to Snapdragon. And on the way, I saw someone duck down behind a boat cart. Chester. Had to be.

  This day was not starting well. I returned to Snapdragon and with shaking hands, poured myself a glass of juice. Two of them. Mr. Joline couldn’t have me arrested, could he? Did I need money to prove that someone was harassing me? That he’d made threats that some judge would rule his way? That I needed lots of money to keep my boat?

  I locked my door, and the ports. That man—I’d seen him before. Where.... Of course, he was Mr. Joline’s shadow man, Rolf. The same man that Finley said was creepy, the one that Nicole didn’t like. And, the same one that Kaye said didn’t kill Nicole, unless it was on orders from Mr. Joline.

  That made sense. Was he a new suspect? At least, a new suspect for Kaye, because he sure threatened me on Mr. Joline’s orders.

  It took me a while to calm down. Finally, I unfolded the newspaper again. Still nothing on the front page. A bunch of vacation ideas, like Teddy said. There was a banner across the top of the front page. “YEAR-ROUND VACATION LIVING - See Today’s LIVING in Section E,” it said. Was that Teddy’s article?

  I thumbed through and pulled out Section E, and there it was. A full page of pictures with a subhead of, “Think You Want To Vacation 24/7? Think Again.” Top right was the picture of Podunk, Lizzie’s boat. Reba had captured all the everyday mess of living. The cockpit contained the small table, the two folding chairs, a pile of boxes, and something drying on the life line.

  I scanned the article until I found it. Teddy had included our names. A note was added at the end “Both these women were on their boats the night Nicole Joline’s body was found at Smith Harbor Marina. Although Podunk was the closer of the two boats, it was Ms. Denlinger who found the body and gave the police a full statement.”

  Was that line enough of a lure to bring the killer to the marina? If he were paranoid, maybe.

  I glanced at the rest of the page. At top left, a family of six crowded around the doorway of a travel trailer. The bottom half of the page was filled with small pictures including Snapdragon along with pictures of a tent, a cabana-type building by the water, and a small cabin in the trees. Did someone live in all those places? And, what did that have to do with taking the kids on vacation before school starts?

  The article was continued on the next page. I turned the sheet.

  Okay, there was the lure that would trap the killer.

  A map of the marina showed where Nicole’s body was found, and where Snapdragon and Podunk were in relation to where I’d found Nicole. Plain as could be. The killer would look at that and wonder why I’d found a body, and Lizzie hadn’t.

  ~ ~

  I’d finished my lunch of the next-to-last banana and a handful of Finley’s mints when my cell phone rang. It was Kaye. “Dad’s on the way. Just giving you a fair warning,” was all she said before she clicked off.

  Why? Why the warning? Kaye was no help at all. Our mother agreeably smiled her way through life, getting absolutely everything she wanted. Dad, was considerably more confrontational. I only had a few minutes to consider what he might be raving about this morning, and making sure I didn’t add to his list of complaints.

  I brushed my hair, stashed my garbage, but the boat was a mess, not at all coordinated. The top sparkled, but dirty streaks ran down the side. Junk in the V-berth which I couldn’t help. I’d inherited that mess. If Dad learned that Kaye had alerted me, he’d go off on that. So, I did what any well-trained survivor would do. I ran a bucket of water, grabbed all my cleaning supplies, and started scrubbing. It was all work I needed to do sometime anyway. I knew perfectly well that nothing I’d even thought of would affect my father in the slightest.

  And I was right.

  Dad came on board, told me I was his favorite youngest daughter, and that, although my hair was a little short, it shone in the sun like a halo.

  Then he shattered my suspense.

  “Put the bucket away, sweetie,” he said. “We’re taking this lovely lady to her new slip. I understand there’s a problem here, but never fear. This joint is a run-down mess. You don’t need it.”

  “That’s great. Except, not today.”

  “Of course, today,” he said, and grabbed one of the lines. “These yours or the marinas?”

  “Dad, not today. There’s something going on and I have to be here.”

  “You mean because Pop’s getting out of jail and coming to repossess your boat? He’ll never find you.”

  “Dad, drop that line,” I yelled. “I’ll leave tomorrow, not today. I’m going to use every one of the pre-paid minutes right here. Besides, I’m....”

  “And that’s the third reason you’re leaving here. My baby girl is not going to get involved in murder. Kaye shouldn’t either, but she screamed at me. I can hardly cart off both of you.”

  “Dad, look at me. I’m screaming. I’m staying right here. I have plans. Go home.”

  “You’re a pussy cat,” he said and flipped the line off the cleat.. “I don’t hear any screaming.”

  So I let out a top-of-the-line shriek.

  Dad jumped back and dropped the line, fortunately, not in the water. I yelled, as loud as I could, “Pick up that line. Give it to me. Go home.” He didn’t move, so I grabbed the line, looped it back over the cleat, and turned to face him again. “Dad, what is it with you? Do you like being yelled at? Do you understand I’m nobody’s baby girl? And I have plans, like I said.”

  Dad shook his head, but he was far from bewildered. He assumed the face of extreme woe and voiced his usual complaint. “This younger generation. What is the world coming to?”

  I’d won, for the time being, so I could be magnanimous. “Thanks anyway, Dad. I assume you’re talking about Granny’s slips. I do appreciate that you arranged one for me.” Assuming that he had.

  “Tomorrow? For sure?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow. Snapdragon and I will be all yours.

  He chuckled. “That’s my girl. Good to see you getting out, meeting new people.”

  “Ah, yeah.” Except, that wasn’t exactly my plan. He’d never leave if I told him Kaye and I had a date with a killer.

  Chapter 22

  Finley met me at Lizzie’s boat well before full dark. Teddy came ten minutes later. “I just talked to Doug Yarnell,” she said. “He’s a block away. Incognito, I’d say. No police car. No uniform. He’s wearing a T-shirt and a baseball cap.”

  “Teddy, you left us with the definite impression that you’d arranged everything with Doug. You didn’t.”

  “Hey, you guys took care of it—a lot better than I could. I did try.”

  “I brought turkey wraps,” Finley said. “Want one?”

  Give it up, I decided. Besides, I was hungry. “Thanks,” I said and took a wrap.

  Teddy didn’t. She’d already eaten. She did tell us that Doug would cruise by the marina every half hour before she opened her computer and started pecking at the keyboard.

  “Did you see Kaye’s car?” I asked.

  Teddy didn’t look up, but she nodded. “I couldn’t see her until I walked right up to the window and tapped. Does she have those mirror windows?”

  “No. She taped tissue paper inside.”

  “Shade
s of the grade school detectives,” Teddy mumbled. I knew exactly what she meant. Kaye had always been the one to come up with something innovative—but not always workable.

  Finley gathered the cards and said, “Let’s change games. How about Spit?”

  “Too noisy, and you know it.”

  “Back to rummy then.” She dealt cards.

  Before I took my cards, I checked the curtains over the windows. All closed. “You couldn’t see us from outside, could you Teddy?” I asked. Teddy shook her head. “Could you hear the radio?” Teddy shook her head again.

  “Come on, play cards,” Finley said.

  “Sure.” The radio was Kaye’s. We’d tried the TV earlier and discovered it had lousy reception. I turned the music up a tad. Cards could be so boring. Especially when one was waiting for a killer. “Lizzie doesn’t have a single book or magazine.”

  “Cards, okay?” Finley had never been a fan of small talk.

  I sat and picked up the cards spread in front of me. “More rummy,” I mumbled as I arranged my hand.

  After what seemed like two hours, my cell phone vibrated. A glance told me it was only thirty minutes.

  “Yes?” I said in a hushed voice.

  “Officer Yarnell here. I’m parked near the marina office. Nothing going on. Just checking in. I’ll drive by again in half an hour.”

  “Is that Doug?” Teddy asked. At my nod, she grabbed the phone. “Why did you call Cyd?” she asked. “Why not me?” After a brief interval, she said, “If you say so,” and returned my phone. “He hung up. He’ll call Finley next time.”

  “So why did he call Cyd instead of you?” Finley asked.

  “Something about the press and private citizens.”

  “Exactly what did he say?” I added, “Since it’s all clear at the moment you can talk. ”

  Teddy ignored the question and returned to her computer screen. She pushed a few buttons, then began to type.

  Finley said, “I can guess. The police have a policy against fraternizing with the enemy, which in this case, is the media.”