“Honey, thanks for being so patient today. I know how you feel about shopping. We met some interesting people though, that’s for sure. And how crazy was it running into Clifton Sterling of all people?”
“Definitely weird. But that Morgan seems like an alright guy.”
“I saw you talking to him again after I went into Ruby’s. Did he tell you that he’s a detective?”
“He did mention it, and I was glad he found my lighter. There must be a hole in my pocket or something. Can you pass the cheese?”
“Sure thing.” I popped a grape in my mouth and handed Hamm the cheese plate.
“He did have kind of an interesting request though. He said to let him know if we heard any strange noises or were awakened by a very loud motor in the middle of the night, particularly around 1:00. Apparently, there’s a small boat that’s been coming through the marina late at night. The two people on board use a double-dip hydraulic net to scoop up minnows. I had no idea minnow schools can cover the entire width of the marina. I also had no idea there was a black market for stolen minnows. Apparently, these ‘minnow bandits’ are selling their stolen fish illegally to fishing charter boat captains. The marina employees have been trying unsuccessfully to identify and capture these guys all last season, and they’re back at it already. I told him we’d keep our ears open.”
“Maybe we can help solve a mystery! That would be fun!”
“We don’t need to set up a spy camp or anything, and you probably shouldn’t even mention this to June. She would probably want to turn it into a full-scale, super-sleuth mission. I prefer to just relax and leave the detective work to the detective. He probably needs something to occupy his time, anyway. It must be a big adjustment moving from Chicago to Kelleys Island. I don’t think I could do it.”
“Well, at least the Caddy Shack has really good pizza. It can hold its own against Chicago-style any day!”
“Don’t remind me. I never did get mine today.”
“Oopsie. We’ll put it on our to-do list for tomorrow. I better go get ready for tonight. At least you can order something yummy at the Island House.”
“Yeah, this should be interesting.”
I left Hamm with the cheese plate then and went down to change my clothes for dinner. It was cooling down since the sun was getting lower in the sky, so I chose my black capris, a black-and-white striped tank top and a lightweight white sweater with a hood. Just for fun, I added my red patent-leather flip-flops.
Hamm wouldn’t give up his cargo shorts, but he changed into a cobalt blue Tommy Bahama button-down shirt. June arrived at the boat dock on foot, looking impressive in a white miniskirt and body-hugging navy blue top. She wore a turquoise scarf and turquoise flats that perfectly matched the new color streak in her hair. The turquoise ring on her index finger added a nice finishing touch to her outfit. She bounced on the balls of her feet, practically crackling with energy.
“Let’s walk to the Island House,” I suggested. Frankly, I had had about all I could take of bike riding for the day.
“Fine with me,” June agreed. At least I think that’s what she said. She had managed to hop aboard the boat and zero-in on the snack plate. Her mouth was full of crackers.
Hamm and I strolled leisurely hand-in-hand down Division Street toward the heart of downtown and the charming Island House Restaurant and Martini Bar. It was nice not to be in a hurry tonight. June walked just a few steps behind, stopping frequently to take casual photos with her iPhone. White picket fences surrounding the property wore mantles of purple clematis blooms and gave the setting both charm and a sense of intimacy. It was such a nice evening, I was glad we had agreed to meet the others at the outdoor bar.
“Hey, June...” I was about to tell her about the whole minnow bandit mystery, even though Hamm didn’t think it was a good idea. How could I keep such a bizarre little mystery from my best friend? She had dropped back and was stopped on the side of the road. She bent over, affectionately rubbing the ear of a tall, handsome stranger, who happened to be a German shepherd. Accompanying the friendly dog was an intimidating-looking man. I thought special-ops or sniper, but then, I was always running movie scenarios and play scripts through my mind, and this guy would most definitely have been the darkly handsome, unpredictable star of the show. June was acting like she knew the pair. I hoped so because otherwise she was getting pretty desperate to hook up with someone, and that didn’t seem like her even though I knew she wasn’t looking forward to being the fifth wheel at dinner and watching her ex-husband perform his great-catch act for the benefit of his new love interest.
I later learned that the stranger’s name was Michael (no last name) and his dog answers to Gunner. June had uncovered the mystery behind the man and his dog when she met him last summer while spending some leisure time at the lake in between assignments. Michael spends his days coming and going between the islands, Kelleys, Middle Bass, and South Bass, always walking with his dog in silence, always with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and always carrying a newspaper tucked under his arm. June couldn’t stand the fact that none of the locals knew much of anything about him, so she pursued him for an entire month, pulling out all the stops, using all of her investigative, journalistic, and flirtatious skills until he finally conceded to sit with her for an informal interview.
She never wrote a feature story or even published an editorial about Michael because for all of her in-depth questioning and expert interviewing skills, the only verifiable information she ever got was his name and the fact that he is ex-military and likes his privacy and his dog. She didn’t think of the time invested as a waste though because first of all, she wasn’t working on a paid assignment, and secondly, she liked him and respected his request to remain private. In the end, June relented, satisfied that at least Gunner had warmed up to her and always stopped for a bit of loving when she encountered him.
After a quick visit, June left the duo and caught up with Hamm and me. I guess he wasn’t going to be June’s dinner partner after all.
It was a little before eight, and although the patio seating was quickly filling up, we were able to secure a spot on the comfy outdoor sectional couch in front of the unique propane fire top table. From our vantage point, we could see both the outdoor bar and the flower-lined street beyond the fence. I made myself comfortable and started to think about which of several specialty martinis I wanted to order when the sound of a dog bark diverted my attention toward the bar. There was Gunner, accepting attention from the hostess and several of the waiters and waitresses. I got the idea that this was a pretty common occurrence since Gunner was already lapping water from a big stainless steel dog bowl. Michael, on the other hand, was standing quietly at the bar alone. It almost seemed like he brought a personal space with him that had a Do Not Enter sign clearly displayed on it.
A waitress came out of the restaurant holding a large, steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee, which she placed in front of him without saying a word. Michael nodded his head and then returned his eyes to the newspaper he was reading. The next time I glanced in his direction, he was holding a red pen in his right hand and his coffee in his left. His attention was still focused downward on his reading material. No one joined him or spoke to him. I could see why June was so intrigued with this dark, handsome, mysterious stranger with the loyal, friendly dog. I tried to picture the two of them as a couple. They were polar opposites, yet it wasn’t that hard to do.
“What are you daydreaming about over there, Francie? Let me guess: chocolate martini versus cosmo.” Hamm raised his hand to get the attention of our waiter. Directing his comment to me, he said, “Since we never did make it to Caddy Shack for pizza, we better order some real food before we start in on drinks. The cheese snacks were good, but it’s time for something more substantial. I know your weakness for chocolate martinis, and I also know what happens if you’re not careful.”
I gave him an appreciative smile. “Well you do have a point. Besides, no one is going to h
ave to twist my arm to make me order something to eat. The hard part will be deciding what to have.”
The seat I had chosen was one facing the street with Hamm to my right and June to my left. I wanted to be next to my husband, of course, but I also needed to be within whispering distance of June so we could get in some good-natured gossip about all of the interesting people we saw walking up and down the main street. You never knew when you would see a pirate with a treasure chest full of candy and small toys, and it was good to be ready to embrace the moment. I caught a tootsie roll that rocketed straight at me and looked up just in time to see the handsome pirate tip his three-cornered hat in my direction before continuing on his merry way up the street.
I tossed the treat into my bag for later and retrieved my purse hook so I didn’t have to place my handbag on the germy ground. I also grabbed my reading glasses just in case one of the twins happened to text or call me. I was realizing more and more how much I missed them. This was the first summer that both of them were away; Ben had gotten an apprenticeship with an architect in Ann Arbor, and Beth had opted to spend her summer volunteering with a children’s theater group in Columbus before continuing her degree in music therapy at Ohio State University. I was starting to understand the day-to-day reality of empty-nest syndrome. Thank goodness for FaceTime. Not that I wasn’t enjoying the new freedom that comes with not having to be the responsible parent all the time. It was definitely an adjustment, but it was one I was quickly learning to embrace.
I was finally all settled when I realized I was famished, and my stomach was seriously growling as the tantalizing scent of exotic seasonings, sautéed onions and grilling meat began to fill the evening air.
We got down to the business of studying the menu. Without even glancing at the offerings, Hamm ordered the calamari appetizer. He gets it every time. The spicy, sweet Thai-version of this dish really is to die for, and it’s not offered in many restaurants in this area.
“I think I’ll go with the coconut shrimp.” It was a hard decision because the lobster mac and cheese was also calling my name. Loud.
There was no hesitation on June’s part whatsoever. She chose a lobster sandwich, which was really two buns, piled high with lobster and a side of clarified butter. Seriously. And this was just the first course. I couldn’t wait to see what she would order for her entrée.
While we waited for our food to arrive, we talked over all of the interesting things that had happened since we arrived. “Bingo!” June shouted, interrupting Hamm’s retelling of his chat with the detective. “Bingo, Bingo, Bingo!”
I looked in the direction of June’s open-mouthed stare. “Bingo” was our code word for something demanding immediate attention. Standing at the bar, in the same spot that Michael had occupied just a moment ago, was an older man dressed entirely in neon orange spandex. On his head, covering his grey dreadlocks, was a pink-and-blue striped stocking hat. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was wearing high heels and sipping a drink topped off with a miniature umbrella. I almost choked.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” I said, once I regained my composure. “People are pretty amazing. You’ve got to love a free spirit!”
Thankfully, just then, our food arrived and we directed our attention to the plates in front of us. My shrimp was prepared with just the right combination of sweetness and crunch, and Hamm was evidently pleased with his choice as always.
June looked up from her decadent selection and smiled. “Don’t underestimate the magical powers of this butter!” I think I gained three pounds just watching her eat it.
We were just finishing up our yummy hors d’oeuvres when Clifton and Sirena arrived. Heads turned. People stared at the beautiful couple. I couldn’t help but think of Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. Except for the tattoo. Sirena’s low-cut, clingy tank top revealed more than her fabulous figure. An intricately executed scorpion decorated her chest above her heart. Its tail curled provocatively up and to the right. I had no idea where its head was. Sirena seemed oblivious to the attention; Clifton, on the other hand, was basking in it. I seriously thought he might take a bow, or worse yet, make a speech. Thankfully, he did neither. He plopped into the seat across from me, reached across the table, and absent-mindedly popped the last of my shrimp into his mouth. June stopped mid-greeting and stared agape at Clifton.
“Francie, quick! Grab the EpiPen in your purse!”
“What’s the matter?” Sirena was frantically looking from Clifton to June to me. I was rummaging in the bottom of my voluminous handbag, where sure enough, I located the EpiPen I had stashed there months ago in case one of my kids had an allergic reaction to something sometime. How June knew it was in there was beyond me. She grabbed it from my hand and reached across the table to stab the gasping man across from me.
So much for Jay Gatsby. Clifton was furiously scratching the ugly red hives that had blossomed on his cheeks and neck. His lips were swollen and his eyes had all but disappeared. At least he was breathing.
“Should we call the EMS?” Sirena seemed genuinely concerned about her companion’s welfare.
“He’ll be fine.” June explained to Sirena that her ex-husband was plagued with a plethora of allergies, “literally from soup to nuts.” The island’s little medical clinic would likely have provided him with the exact same treatment.
“I had no idea Cliff’s allergies were that bad,” Sirena remarked. “Frankly, he never even mentioned the fact he had them.”
Go figure, I thought.
“I knew allergies could be severe, and sometimes even fatal, but I’ve never seen anything come on so quickly. Maybe I should invest in one of those EpiPens myself.”
“Probably not a bad idea,” June answered. “Not only does Clifton’s vanity keep him from advertising his flaws, but he also has some issues with impulse control. Just saying.”
Chapter Nine
When Clifton could speak again, he humbly thanked both June and me for saving him from death, if not embarrassment. I could see it was an effort for him to speak through his slightly less bulbous lips, and after that, he sat quietly like a chastised schoolboy for a long time while we chatted with Sirena. I begrudgingly admitted to myself that I liked her.
Hamm asked her about the travails of starting up a new business on a little island. “The logistics alone of getting your merchandise over from the mainland must have been a daunting task, especially doing it all on your own.”
Sirena leaned in close to Hamm and replied, “Everyone on the island has been so welcoming and helpful. I got a lot of especially good advice from a local lady, Ruby Burns. She and her husband, Roger, gave me contact numbers for merchants and vendors on all of the islands as well as on the mainland. They were so nice especially considering I’m in direct competition with her business. They seemed to know everything about everyone. The only thing Ruby had a hard time with was remembering my name. She has a beautiful gift shop here. Do you know her?”
The conversation was taking a dangerous turn toward the topic of shopping. Hamm needed a diversionary tactic. Quickly he asked, “How about drinks? This round is on me. I think Cliff could use a nice glass of bourbon about now. I know what Francie wants. June, how about you?”
I looked suspiciously at my husband. Was he being nice to June? I wondered if he was trying to impress Sirena. Oh, well. I was having a good time and wasn’t about to spoil the mood. Getting into the spirit, I asked Sirena, “Have you tried the chocolate martini, the Diva? I don’t know how they do it, but you won’t find a better one anywhere. Ever.”
Sirena answered me quickly. “I hear they’re fabulous, but I’m a one cocktail kind of girl. Vodka martini, dry, with a lemon.”
“That sounds refreshing and it’s hard to mess up a good martini, but you should try the chocolate martini at least once. You won’t be sorry.”
“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Sirena answered politely.
“I’ll have a Jack Daniels over ice.” We all tu
rned to the newcomer who had just placed his order. He wasn’t butting in as we all assumed; the waiter just happened to be standing right behind Hammond.
“Hey, it’s you!” Hammond and the man said simultaneously. Then they both laughed. I recognized him as the runner, or detective as the case may be, I met talking to my husband outside Ruby’s Treasure Chest earlier in the evening, and he was every bit as handsome as the first time I saw him.
“I see you survived your shopping expedition.”
“I did. But we never did make it over to Caddy Shack for pizza.”
“Well, if you’re hungry, this place makes the best hamburgers on the planet. And trust me, I know my burgers.”
“Thanks, Jack. I’ll survive. I’ve given up many meals over the years because of shopping diversions. Jack Morgan, you remember my wife, Francesca. And this is June, her friend. And this...”
Jack interrupted. “Oh, I know these two. Sirena is a neighbor, and I met Mr. Sterling the first day he arrived on the island. We had a little chat about his treating our rural roads like the Indy 500.” Clifton shrugged in reply. He was already looking much better, but didn’t seem to want to take the risk of talking out loud.
Hamm stood and shook Jack’s hand. “Please join us, Jack. You can’t be all bad since you just ordered the same drink I was about to.”
So there we were. A nice even six. Our drinks arrived and we settled into friendly conversation. June and Super-Hunk, I mean Jack, quickly discovered they had absolutely nothing in common—nothing, that is, except some invisible connection linking their gazes.
Hamm raised his glass and toasted. “Here’s to a relaxing, long weekend with no agenda and no worries.”
Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) Page 5