by Rose Pressey
DEAD IN THE WATER
A Maggie P.I. Mystery
Rose Pressey
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form, (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, places, and brands are the product of the author’s imagination and not to be construed as real. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Maggie Thomas likes to think she’s tough and totally into this private eye thing. Sure she got off to a rocky start, but things aren’t so bad now. Until she discovers a couple dead guys. Plus, while at the scene of the crime her hot detective boyfriend Jake Jackson places her in handcuffs.
At least she has the help of her assistant Dorothy Raye who likes to kick butt while wearing her orthopedic shoes. Wielding her knitting needles is only one of Dorothy’s many talents. Maggie finds herself in big trouble this time. Will she find the killer before she ends up dead in the water?
Index
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
Chapter 1
I never dreamed my career would involve lounging by a pool, basking in the sunshine, and taking a dip in the cool refreshing water. While going undercover, I wore my red, one-piece swimsuit with the stylish cutouts along the sides, floppy straw sunhat, and giant black sunglasses the size of saucers. The dark shades matched the color of my hair, which I thought looked totally glamorous. I had a Hollywood starlet vibe. Yeah, in my dreams, but I digressed.
I kept my stare focused on the woman across the pool from me. See, my job wasn’t all fun and games. This was risky business. The woman probably wouldn’t attack me with her bottle of sunscreen, but nevertheless, something bad might happen. She had no idea that I was here specifically to watch her.
Even without my disguise, I wasn’t sure the woman would recognize me. As far as I knew she had no idea who I was, and I hoped to keep it that way. I’d been hired to catch her with her boyfriend. Her husband was convinced that she was cheating on him. And I was almost certain that he was right. I had a feeling that I was on the cusp of catching her in the act. Now all I had to do was sit back and wait.
I knew that she was meeting her lover today at the pool. More on how I knew later. Let’s just say I’d discovered this information using slightly questionable practices. Nothing illegal, but it might be frowned upon if she’d discovered me.
However, I’d been hired by my client to get to the bottom of this and that was exactly what I planned to do. Since this was a private club for members only I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this pool. I’d sneaked in a back entrance. My fingers were crossed that no one discovered what I’d done.
I hadn’t paid for a membership. Why would I pay for a membership when I only intended to be here this one time? I certainly couldn’t afford big bucks like that. I was lucky to make enough to pay the rent on my tiny apartment. My place might be small, but at least I had a view of the beach—well, if I stood outside and looked down a few blocks.
This might not be the most glamorous of cases, but it paid my bills and after recent events, I could definitely use some downtime and a less stressful assignment.
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. One of the club’s employees was walking toward me. My heart beat faster and I started to sweat even more. An unfriendly visit telling me to get lost was the last thing I needed right now.
What if they called the police? Thank goodness I had an inside connection with the Miami Police Department. I was currently dating the handsome Detective Jake Jackson. Not that we didn’t still have our squabbles, but nevertheless, we had fun together. Jake didn’t like when I got involved in criminal investigations. He felt like I could be putting myself in danger. I could handle myself and I didn’t like him butting into my business. Besides, how could I get into trouble with my orthopedic shoe-wearing, knitting needle-wielding, bingo-playing assistant Dorothy Raye hanging around?
Speaking of Dorothy, where was she? Just a few minutes ago I’d left her in the changing room. She’d promised to be right out. The employee was still headed toward me. Maybe I should hide. No, it was probably too late for that. Okay, I would just remain calm and act I was totally supposed to be here. I picked up my US Weekly magazine and pretended to be interested in what Kim Kardashian wore to the gym.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the man said as he approached.
Okay, this was it. I had to act like I belonged here.
“Yes?” I asked, not bothering to take off my sunglasses.
“Would you like something to drink?” He flashed a big smile.
Oh, this was good.
“Why, yes. Yes, I would. That would be fantastic. I’ll have a piña colada, please.”
“One piña colada coming right up,” he said with a smile.
As the smell of coconut lingered in the air and I waited on my fruity cocktail, I figured that my job was totally worth it today. Now the times that I was dodging bullets and jumping off exploding boats? That was a different story, but right now, I was loving it.
I needed to focus my attention on the woman again. After all, she was the reason all of this was possible. Wait, she was gone.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I surveyed the area, frantically looking for her. She was nowhere in sight. The bright yellow towel she’d been lounging on was gone. The straw tote bag she’d carried with the words ‘Beach, Please’ written on the front had disappeared too. I jumped up from my chair and rushed over to the changing area to see if she had slipped inside. A banging noise came from somewhere behind me, so I whipped around.
“Maggie,” a little voice whispered.
“Dorothy? Is that you?” I scowled.
“It’s me, come here,” she said.
“Where are you?” I asked, looking around for her.
“I’m in the dressing area to your right. Can you come in here right now?”
I stepped into that tiny space. Dorothy wore an oversized pink and lime green muumuu.
“What are you doing? We’re supposed to be at the pool. I’ve already lost track of Brigette.”
“I take sun damage seriously and I have no choice but to wear this.” She gestured toward the floral-print frock.
“Okay, fine. Wear that. Let’s go.” I picked up Dorothy’s pocketbook and handed it to her.
She shook her head. “There’s a problem. It’s not my color.”
“We don’t have
time to worry about the right color right now, Dorothy. Now pick up your flip-flops and let’s go.”
As I raced out of the dressing room I spotted the woman leaving the pool area. Thank goodness. The guy that she was supposed to meet here was now with her. I had to get to them right away. Now I wished I’d worn my shorts and a tank. I hadn’t expected that I would be chasing someone while wearing my swimsuit. Nonetheless, I had to do it. I grabbed up my sarong as I passed by the lounge chair. My flip-flops made a loud suction noise as I struggled to keep them on my feet while I ran across the concrete.
Once I exited the pool area and dashed around the corner of the building, I spotted the woman and her lover as they climbed into a slick black BMW. Unfortunately, there was no way that I would be able to talk to them because my car was all the way on the other side of this pool. In the parking area. Plus, I had to get Dorothy to come out of that dressing room. By the time I got all of that accomplished there would be no way to catch up with them. They’d be long gone.
This was definitely a kink in my plans. I hated when things went wrong. Now I would have to track the couple down all over again. I needed photographic proof they had been together. I released a deep breath and blew the hair out of my eyes. I guessed I should go get Dorothy now. It was just as well. Dorothy didn’t want to be here anyway.
When I stepped back through the pool’s gate I stopped in my tracks. Dorothy lounged on the chair wearing her yellow and white polka dot swimsuit. Apparently, she’d decided to ditch the muumuu. It looked as if she’d taken my piña colada as well. She sipped on the straw, acting as if nothing unusual had happened.
I marched over to her, crossing my arms in front of my chest. Peering down at her, I tapped my foot against the concrete. Her eyes remained closed. A couple seconds later she opened her eyes and jumped, spilling some of the drink.
Dorothy clutched her chest. “Maggie, you scared me. Don’t do that to an old lady.”
“You’re not that old,” I said. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Well, what does it look like I’m doing, Mags? I’m enjoying the pool.” She waved her hand. “Isn’t that why we came?”
“No, Dorothy, that’s not why we came.”
“Yes, it is, dear. You said we should act as if we’re enjoying the pool. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” She took another sip from the piña colada.
“Yes, but that was when Brigette was here. She’s gone now. And so will be my case if I don’t catch up to her.”
“Well, I thought you were going to get her.” Dorothy took a bite from the pineapple wedge that had garnished the cocktail.
I sighed. “I tried to catch her, but she took off in her car with lover boy.”
“Why didn’t you go after them?” She placed the half-eaten pineapple back on the rim of the glass.
“Because I had to come back here and get you so that we could get the car.” I picked up her tote bag.
“Oh, so now it’s all my fault?” Dorothy pouted.
I felt a headache coming on and it wasn’t from the sun. “All right, Dorothy, let’s pack up our things and head out. I have to come up with a different plan.”
“What do you mean let’s head out? I’m enjoying the pool.” She took the tote from my hands.
“I don’t have time to enjoy anything. I have to track down Brigette. I’ve got bills to pay.”
“Oh, bills, nonsense,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“Excuse me, miss,” the man said from over my shoulder.
For a second, I didn’t respond, but then I knew I had to say something. I peeked over my shoulder. The waiter was headed back toward us. Oh, no. Had he finally realized we weren’t supposed to be here?
“Dorothy, did he bring that drink to you?” I asked.
Dorothy flashed a sheepish smile. “Yes, I told him that I would take it and he could bring you another one.”
When he walked over to us he said, “Are you supposed to be here?”
I opened my mouth to speak. My first thought was to argue with him and act as if I was completely insulted that he would question our membership status. Then I realized it was probably too much trouble.
Instead, I said, “Come on, Dorothy, let’s get out of here.”
Dorothy jumped up from that lounge chair as if she’d just won the grand prize at bingo. She grabbed her muumuu and the tote bag and headed toward the rear exit gate. I rushed along behind her, glancing over my shoulder to see if the employee was following us. Thank goodness he wasn’t following us, but he was talking to another man. I was pretty sure they were planning a call to the police. What would Jake say if he was called out here because I was trespassing at a private club? He probably wouldn’t be too surprised.
Dorothy and I dashed down the sidewalk until we finally made it to my car. When we lunged inside I cranked the engine, pulling away from that curb probably a little faster than I should have.
“Well, that was a close one,” Dorothy said after releasing a big breath. She studied her fuchsia-polished fingernails, ignoring the evil eye I shot her way.
“No kidding. You’re the one who was lounging there and took the drink from the employee.”
She scoffed. “You ordered the drink.”
As we drove along, Dorothy started singing along to Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off. It only took a few seconds of me listening until I glanced over at her. She noticed me watching her.
She stopped singing. “What? You don’t like my voice? I thought I sounded pretty good.”
“Oh, you sound good,” I said. “It’s not that.”
She frowned. “What is it exactly?”
“What do you think the chorus words are to that song?” I asked.
“‘’Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play, and the bakers gonna bake, bake, bake, bake, bake,’” she sang.
I laughed as I pulled up to a red light. “That’s not what she’s singing.”
Dorothy scoffed. “Oh, no? What is she singing?”
“‘And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate,’” I said.
“Oh, that’s impossible,” she said.
“No, seriously. It’s what she sings. Why would she talk about bakers?”
“Maybe she doesn’t like baked goods. She could be on a low-carb diet,” Dorothy said, pulling out her knitting needles.
“You don’t have to stop singing,” I said.
“Oh, no, if I get it wrong, I’m not going to sing it.”
Ugh. Me and my big mouth. I should’ve just kept quiet. As long as Dorothy was happy to sing the wrong words then what did I care? Still, it was funny. I snickered to myself as she continued furiously knitting.
“I bet there are plenty of songs that you get the lyrics wrong,” she said.
“Maybe,” I said. “I’ll give you that.”
“Like that one ABBA song where you always say, ‘Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tangerine’ and it’s really ‘feel the beat from the tambourine.’”
“‘Tangerine’ and ‘tambourine’ sound alike.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
Chapter 2
I’d inherited the Thomas Private Investigation Agency from my uncle Griffin Thomas. Sadly, he’d passed away a while back, and in his will he had insisted that I take over his business. Since I’d had nothing else exciting going on in my life I’d taken the plunge—even though I had no experience with this profession. I was winging it and learning as I went. In hindsight perhaps I should have researched a bit more before jumping right in the deep end.
However, as bad as I was at being a private eye, I was still hanging on and managing to scrape by—just barely. I supposed I was a lot like my uncle. Dorothy reminded me of that little detail often. Sometimes I did things a bit unconventionally, but I managed to get things done. It wasn’t always the best way and sometimes it might be questionable behavior, but it worked out in the end. So far.
Taking over the agency was how I’d met Dorothy Raye. She had been Uncle Grif
fin’s assistant, and now she was mine. For better or for worse. We were much more than co-workers now. We’d become friends over the course of a short time. Although Dorothy would tell me not to get all mushy. I knew she loved me though. Even if she tried to act tough. I had no problem telling her I loved her.
After the failed pool visit, Dorothy and I arrived back at the office. I parked my red Ford Focus in the small parking lot adjacent to the office. Feeling a bit like the deflated beach ball that Dorothy carried in her arms, we headed for the tiny cramped space.
“Why did you bring a beach ball again?” I asked.
“In case we wanted to play in the water,” Dorothy said.
“What’s next, a game of Marco Polo?”
“Oh, you,” she said with a wave of her hand.
Sometimes I complained about the tiny office space, but honestly, it wasn’t so bad. It was plenty for us and served its purpose well. Plus, that sliver of a beach view from the tiny window made it kind of fabulous. All I had to do was stand at the window, lean my head to the right, and squint just a little, then I could see the water. It was gorgeous.
When I unlocked the door, Dorothy rushed through, immediately heading over to her desk so that she could pick up where she’d left off with her knitting project. She had a stash of yarn in the drawer, along with peppermint candies, and probably not one thing related to private investigating. Of course she reminded me all the time that she was just the receptionist and hadn’t signed up for anything else.
I still hadn’t had a chance to get new furniture, but at least I had the old stuff that Uncle Griffith had had for years. A couple of desks, a couple of metal folding chairs, and a somewhat nice leather chair where clients could sit. At least I was almost certain it was leather.
I pulled white shorts and a pink tank top on over my swimsuit. Dorothy had reluctantly slipped the muumuu over her head again. Once at my desk I released a deep sigh and plopped my bag down on top. Then I flopped down in the chair. The metal groaned with the action.
“You’re going to break that chair,” Dorothy said.