Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1)

by Maureen K. Howard

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We spent the rest of our time sipping our wine and savoring the last of our meal. Occasionally, one of us would suggest a strategy detail or a slight addition to the basic plan, but we couldn’t come up with any better alternative, so we decided to go with it, determined to make it happen.

  June and I left the patio and headed toward the marina and June’s houseboat. There was no turning back now. Mission “Find the Bad Guy” was officially under way. Once we got aboard Anchor Management, we set about making as much noise as we could, dropping cups and dishes into the sink, flinging notebooks, talking loudly and laughing as if we were having a grand old time. June strode fore to aft turning on all of the lights in the cabin. This was to make our whereabouts obvious to anyone who happened to be watching us.

  “So now what?” she asked, kicking aside a pile of magazines and a small recorder that had landed in front of the sink where she now stood with her arms crossed in front of her.

  “I say we pop in a DVD, microwave some popcorn, and wait.”

  “That’s the hardest part, just sitting around. What if no one shows up?” Inactivity had never been June’s strong suit.

  Soon, we were both caught up in our favorite movie, Thelma and Louise. For the next half hour, we shared popcorn and got inspired by Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis making tracks in their ’66 Thunderbird. But before Brad Pitt made his getaway with all the money, it was time to make our move. The night had finally turned that inky dark that only occurs far away from streetlights and convenience store neon signs. We changed into solid black shirts and pants. Knowing how I always get chilly in the night air, I also borrowed a black, hooded sweatshirt with the yacht club insignia embroidered tastefully on the front pocket. Lucky for me, June had stretchy black leggings in addition to her size-two jeans. We both wear size-eight shoes, and being the fashionista that she is, June had both short and tall black boots in her closet. I pulled the knee-high boots over the leggings and then admired my new look in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the door to the forward berth. I don’t mind saying that I looked pretty cool and mysterious. I conveniently had a tin of black shoe polish stashed in my bag. Sometimes, I had to give Hamm’s dress shoes a quick shine before an important engagement. After all these years, he was still fussy about the condition of his shoes. We dipped our fingers into the greasy stuff and smudged a bit under each eye. We pulled black ball caps over our hair and our ensembles were complete.

  “Stay low,” June whispered as we exited the boat and crept stealthily down the length of the dock, making our way to the little patch of trees and tall ornamental grass at the end. When we got to our hiding spot, we crouched down and held our breath for what seemed like hours. I took a quick peek at my watch and discovered only fifteen minutes had passed. In that time, we had seen only two cars and not one single person on foot.

  “This is lame. Let’s give it up. Once again, what were we thinking?”

  June shushed me for the second time in less than one hour. “Listen. I think I hear someone coming.”

  That someone was tall and dressed very much like the two of us, right down to the black ball cap. “I think it’s him, and he has something in his hand, a flashlight, I think.”

  I was certain it was the knock-off guy. We waited impatiently until the stranger had made it past our hiding place and halfway down the dock before untangling ourselves from the foliage, ready to follow. Before we even got to our feet, the perfectly groomed Clifton Sterling appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and he was walking very purposefully straight toward us.

  “What is he doing here?” June squeaked.

  It was my turn to shush her. He passed right by us without even a cursory glance and turned onto the dock.

  “I think he’s going to your boat. Maybe he left something aboard.”

  “There’s nothing of his left there. No. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

  Before June could call out a warning to her ex-husband, he had caught up to the mystery person. They both stopped right in front of June’s boat, and when the stranger in black turned toward Clifton, his eyes widened in surprised recognition. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his body language told me that he was agitated, perhaps even angry. Clifton took a solid hold on the person’s left arm. There was a brief struggle, and then the stranger swung around fiercely and smashed the flashlight across the back of Clifton’s head. He crumpled to the dock like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and the next sound we heard was the splash of his body as he was nudged by a black steel-tipped boot over the edge of the dock and into the cold water.

  I grabbed June’s shoulder. She was still frozen to her spot, staring wide-eyed at the unfolding scene. “Snap out of it!” I hissed into her ear.

  We sprinted toward the spot that just moments ago Clifton had occupied. My raised hand was clutching a can of pepper spray, and June’s fists of fury were clenched in front of her, ready to pounce.

  The dark figure in front of the houseboat turned resolutely toward us. A feeble moonbeam illuminated the face of Sirena Divine.

  “Well, hello, ladies. I must admit I’m a little surprised. I thought you two were inside having a little movie night. Instead, I see you were out playing super spy again. No matter, as long as we’re all together now.”

  “What is going on, Sirena?” I shrieked. “We need to get Clifton out of the water! He’s going to drown.”

  “That’s the point, darling. Why don’t we all go aboard and have a little chat. I can see you haven’t put all the pieces together yet.” She bent down and called out in an unholy voice that sent a shiver down my spine, “Hey, Cliff, say hello to Hammond when you get to the other side!”

  The blood in my veins turned into frozen sludge. Please don’t let this be happening!

  Sirena straightened up and raised her right hand toward us. What I had thought was a flashlight turned out to be a small black gun with a silver handle. Slowly, she pointed it steadily at us, and in a sickeningly sweet voice, invited us to join her on June’s boat.

  When we got inside, Sirena kept the gun pointed squarely at us and hissed, “Sit down and don’t say a single word. Now!”

  We slumped on the couch, terrified at the transformation that had turned our gracious new friend into this cold, steely-eyed stranger who was now maniacally rifling through the fridge and cupboards, flinging everything we hadn’t thrown earlier across the room.

  “Well come on, ladies. Aren’t you going to at least offer me a glass of wine so we can chat civilly before I have to kill you? Oh wait, I almost forgot, we already drank your bottle of Pinot Grigio at the shop earlier today. Thanks for that by the way. I grabbed it as an afterthought on my way out of here the other night. It turned out to be a pretty good wine. And what was the translation of its name again? Oh, I remember, ‘Here’s Tomorrow.’ Well you won’t have to worry about that now.”

  For once, neither of us became mute with terror. Adrenaline and the instinct to survive set us both into instant action. June and I started shooting questions at our captor. “What is going on, Sirena? Have you gone crazy?”

  “We need to help Clifton and find the knock-off guy!”

  “We have to clear Hamm’s name and solve the mystery of the fire at Ruby’s. Why are you here?”

  “And what’s with the gun and the threats? We didn’t do anything! The real criminal is still out there somewhere.”

  “Oh, where to start with the questions?” Sirena’s calmness now was the exact opposite of her agitated state just moments earlier. “You ladies have it all wrong, some detectives you turned out to be. I guess if I had realized you were so naive and stupid, I wouldn’t have deemed it necessary to bother with getting rid of you.”

  She bent down and opened the cupboard under the sink. Never moving her gun away from its targets, she retrieved a bottle of red wine that June had stashed there for emergencies. She stood and poured out three servings into red solo cups that she foun
d in the same cupboard, intended for the same purpose.

  “Here, have a little drink with me while I explain. Then, unfortunately for you, we have to get back to the business of getting you both out of the picture. It’s too bad really, you seem like you might have been kind of fun.”

  I held out my shaking hand to take the drink being offered and June did the same. Neither of us could stop staring wide-eyed at Sirena as she paced feverishly back and forth in the tight cabin quarters. She had a disconnected look as she stepped over, around, and on all of the debris cluttering the small space.

  “Listen, Sirena, we have got to get out of here. You don’t understand…”

  She cut me off mid-sentence. “My name is not Sirena! God, how I hate that name. And it is not me who doesn’t understand, it is you two bumbling morons!”

  She stopped abruptly, set her drink on the counter, and put her hands on her hips. She spoke now through clenched teeth, enunciating every word. “My name is Senora. Sirena is dead. Could you really not tell the difference? Sirena was my twin, and I took care of her just like I’m about to take care of both of you. She was a do-gooder, always interfering in other people’s business, just like you. It’s no surprise you all hit it off.”

  “Whaaaat?” I shot to the edge of my seat while June sank farther back into the cushions.

  “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, Sirena, but knock it off. We’re fishing Clifton’s waterlogged Armani ass out of that water and calling Detective Morgan right now!”

  The last thing I saw before being sucked into total oblivion was the lovely Sirena Divine whirling toward me with the half-empty wine bottle.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I didn’t know if I was out for ten minutes or ten hours, but when I tried to open my eyes, they felt as if burning needles were piercing my retinas. My ribs were sore and my head was throbbing. Something warm and sticky was congealing in my hair above my left ear. I was lying on a hard surface and a chilly breeze was sliding over my sore cheeks.

  Very slowly, the blurred images around me began to take shape. June was at the helm of her houseboat, standing very stiff and looking very nervous. The hatch above the galley table was open, and the breeze I felt on my face was increasing in intensity. Wait. The boat was moving! But that was impossible. Although it was seaworthy, June’s houseboat had never left the dock, at least not under her power. She used the boat strictly as a summertime getaway, a place to kick back, relax, and enjoy leisure times at the dock with her friends. She couldn’t actually drive the thing to save her life. I must still be dreaming.

  The gun in Sirena’s hand, though, was very, very, real. Wait. What had she told us? That wasn’t Sirena. What did she say her name was? I was confused, but regardless of the madwoman’s name, her gun was pressing into June’s side, which explained why she looked so uncomfortable. I was trying not to move or make any noise so I could clear my head and take stock of the situation, but after a few minutes of conscious effort, I could no longer tolerate keeping still on the cold, galley floor. I raised my hand, feeling for broken ribs, and then gingerly touched the egg-sized lump on my head. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes, my mouth was as dry as the sand on the beach, and my nose itched. Concentrating, I stretched my legs out slowly in front of me, trying not to attract attention, but needing to get the blood flowing again. Cautiously, I flexed my ankles and pointed my toes.

  Sirena’s unnaturally low monotone voice halted my progress.

  “I see you’re finally up from your little siesta, Francesca. Stand up. Now.”

  The gun, which was now pointed dead center at my belly, got my immediate attention. I swallowed fiercely, trying to keep the stinging bile from making its way up my esophagus, and put all of my remaining energy into rearranging my posture into an upright position. My immediate surroundings swirled around me like a 70’s psychedelic funhouse; voices were assaulting my ears, bouncing off the walls of some invisible tunnel; and when I tried to speak, all I could manage was a pathetic scratchy, squeak which sounded more like an abandoned kitten than a woman in charge of her own destiny. I finally managed to pull myself up to a sitting position, clinging to the edge of the galley bench seat for support. It took every ounce of concentration to hold my bobble-head still and focus my eyes on my best friend, trying to eliminate the crazy lady from my line of sight.

  June caught my gaze as I painfully whispered, “June, what in God’s name is happening here?”

  Her ghost-white face was streaked with tears, mascara, and shoe polish. “I think this might be the final act, Francie. This is not Sirena, and there is no hero waiting in the wings. Just do what she says, and maybe we will have a chance to get out of this alive.”

  “Shut up! Just shut up, you two drama queens!” Sirena’s evil incarnation whirled around and stalked out of the cabin. Through the open sliding glass door, I saw her holding on to the rail and looking up into the dark starless night.

  Directing her voice back toward us in the cabin, she commanded, “Stop here, June.” Senora’s order left no room for discussion or compromise. June pulled back on the throttle and gave me a fearful glance. Senora ducked her head back inside for a second, then instructed in a voice as cold as ice, “All right, all hands on deck, girls. And I mean now!”

  June slouched out of the captain’s chair, terror emanating from her every pore, stepped over to where I stood on shaking legs, and slid her arm protectively around me to help me finally get my balance. At that moment, I offered up a silent prayer in thanksgiving for the friend I knew would die trying to save me. The boat bobbed gently from side to side in the dark water, which wasn’t helping the fact I was still wobbly and disoriented. After helping me straighten up, we clung to one another, and together, we walked the short distance out onto the deck where our captor was waiting. Finally, I regained my ability to speak.

  “What have you done to Sirena, you witch?”

  “She’s dead. I told you. She couldn’t keep her interfering nose out of my affairs, so I did what had to be done. I made sure she was in Ruby’s shop when it burnt.” There was not even a hint of remorse in her voice.

  I grabbed June’s hand instinctively. We stood in shocked silence for a second then, in unison, let out a sigh of disbelief, “Noooo!”

  Anger boosted my courage to confront her. “How could you? She was your sister. Why would you do these horrible things?”

  “Why? For what was coming to me. For what I deserved. For the money that should have been mine. Sirena always had it so easy. She was the golden child, loved by everyone, and everything she touched turned into a success. I had to scratch and claw for every scrap, and no one ever appreciated me, not even my geriatric husband. I had to tolerate that idiot until he died of natural causes, so I could finally enjoy the fortune I had earned. Even after he was dead and buried, I had to fight and scrape to get any of Jerry’s estate. It all should have been mine. I’m the one who smiled at his side, kept track of all his pills, cleaned the drool off his chin, and worst of all, put up with his ridiculous friends.

  “But no. It was unbelievable. He cut me out of his will in the end and left everything: his money, his house, his four cars, and all of his assets to his buddies who shared his bizarre fascination. Seriously? The Naked Jugglers’ Foundation? I wasted ten years of my life just to have it all yanked away by those morons. Thankfully, I discovered one important oversight on the part of his legal counsel. My dear hubby’s treasured coin collection somehow didn’t get itemized or catalogued with his other assets. It just would have ended up being auctioned off by those flipping fools anyway.”

  We needed to keep her talking until we could come up with something resembling a counter attack. June asked, “What about the guy in black who keeps trying to kill us? And didn’t he try to blow you up as well? Obviously he wasn’t successful, but he can’t be your loyal partner.”

  “Oh, you’ve met my friend, Kenneth. He doesn’t look like a brain trust, but he does have a few redeeming qu
alities. He agreed to help me steal Jerry’s coin stash before the error could be discovered, and it wound up for sale, or worse yet, donated to the juggling jerk-offs. Overmayer has some pretty solid connections out East. He knows some professionals who could help us liquidate the coins into lovely, spendable cash, and the rest, as they say, is history. With the backing of my new friends, I invested in a booming business moving very authentic-looking designer merchandise all over the Midwest.”

  June and I were both incredulous. She was first to ask the question that was foremost on my mind. “You were the one selling all those knock-offs? But how?”

  I was slowly regaining my focus. My adrenaline had caught up with my fear and anger, and the creative juices were starting to flow again. I had spotted my purse wedged between a chair and a table leg just inside the cabin door. It must have landed there while I was being knocked out and kicked around. I angled my body so I was partially behind June, and while she kept the crazy lady engaged in conversation, I carefully stretched my right leg through the open cabin door. I finally looped my toe under the shoulder strap and painstakingly nudged the bag, willing it to move a little closer to the door.

  “So, you were really willing to kill not only your husband, but even your own twin sister, just to get rich? Was it worth it, Senora?”

  “Oh, it was worth it. Profits were just starting to roll in on a regular basis. I was already pushing my wares in tourist towns up and down Lake Michigan. I was working from my home base in Chicago. Once I had that market under control, it was time to expand into Lake Erie. I could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Little Miss Perfect had unknowingly laid the groundwork for me with her new little island boutique. And for once, I was actually glad that we were identical in appearance. I was delighted when I saw her beautiful tattoo. How convenient for me. It’s an exact mirror image of my own.”