by Janine Marie
Chapter Thirteen
Geranium Island
After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee the next morning, we set sail. Our friends Greg and Steph and Kevin and his son, Sam, in their power boats were still sound asleep when we left because it takes us much longer to get anywhere. We sail at an average of 6 knots, less if there is light wind, whereas the power boats go 18 to 20 knots, so it takes us three times longer, and that’s only if the wind is blowing the right direction. If, like today, it’s not, well, at least it’s a beautiful sunny day and it is windy, so we will enjoy the sail and get to the island in time for cocktails.
Katie and I tried to read our books, but Thomas was determined to race various other sailboats who had no idea they were racing us, so every time we got comfortable he either tacked or wanted the sails adjusted. Katie and I finally gave up on reading when he announced that he wanted us to hoist the Gennaker, a sail like a spinnaker but easier to sail with only three people, one being Katie, who is a reluctant sailor at best. It requires constant adjustments but is really fun to fly. Arriving at last, we were pleased to see that Kevin had positioned his boat on the dock in a way to ensure that we had a spot with the group.
Nonboaters do the same thing with their cars, like when someone parks their car mostly in one spot but partly in the next spot as well, thus making it impossible for anyone to park that spot. Kevin, his son Sam, and Greg each grabbed a line and walked Kevin’s boat back 5 feet, tied it off, then caught our lines. We were to have a late lunch, as we had missed a dock lunch with the group earlier. I moved our deck chairs to the dock, opened a bottle of white wine, handed Thomas a beer and some turkey dogs to BBQ, brought out some cut veggies and hummus, and voila, lunch on the dock. After lunch Katie and Sam went up the dock to the field to play some Frisbee. I cleaned up the lunch dishes, then went to join Steph and Kevin on the dock. “Where is Thomas?” I asked, sitting down.
“Where do you think?” Steph said, waving at their boat, where the engine cover was raised.
“Oh” I said knowingly. “a project is afoot.” Turning to Kevin I asked, “How do you resist?”
“What? And ruin my clothes mucking around with an engine? No, I’m no fool; I’d much rather sit here visiting with you two lovely ladies,” he said with a smile, then gallantly filled our glasses with the crisp white Sauvignon Blanc.
“So tell us about your new date,… she didn’t come?” I inquired, and we proceeded to analyze Kevin’s latest relationships until Greg and Thomas reappeared, very pleased with themselves for having resolved the engine problem, something about the impeller.
“For you, Janeva,” Greg said, handing me a set of elbow-length 1950s-style rubber gloves.
“But where is the bleach?” I replied, laughing and putting on the gloves. “Clearly my love of spray Clorox bleach has not gone unnoticed.”
“Some women use air freshener with nice pine or lemon smells, but not my Janeva: she goes for the ultra-clean bleach smell,” said Thomas.
“Well, I would rather have that than the cigarette smell our boat had last night when we returned. I can’t for the life of me figure out where the smell came from…. It was almost like someone had been on our boat,” said Greg, puzzled.
I sat up, immediately alert. “Really? I was convinced that someone had searched our boat, but nothing was missing.”
“Why did you think your boat had been searched, and do you know what they were looking for?” Greg asked.
“No idea what they were looking for, but I think it had to do with clothes or shoes.”
Groaning, Thomas interjected “Really, WHO would want to steal your shoes?”
Ignoring this obvious jibe, I continued to answer Greg’s question: “My hanging locker door was ajar, the settee throw cushions were not the right—it was like when you and Thomas go digging for tools and stuff in the storage bins.”
“And all that time I was sooo careful to put the throw pillows back just so!” interjected Thomas, again with sarcasm.
“Thomas, you’re not taking this seriously!” I scolded.
“Well, what does throw-pillow positioning have to do with shoes, and do you think there is a deranged cigarette-smoking Yacht Club member with a shoe fetish? This is a ridiculous conversation,” he continued.
Rolling my eyes at him, I continued, “No. But someone did break into Lorenzo’s office yesterday morning, then last night when we were at dinner someone went through my hanging locker—well, shoes, anyway. I couldn’t tell if he went through yours or Katie’s as they are too messy to start with.”
Thomas interrupted me. “Two totally different events. Lorenzo’s office break-in was in all probability some druggie looking for the petty cash or, if you really want to go out on a limb, perhaps someone interested in their intellectual property. But I’m just asking—how could that possibly have anything to do with shoe rifling?”
I suddenly realized that I hadn’t told them about the financial crisis that Lorenzo’s company was facing; I was about to repeat the conversation I had had with Catherine and Frank the day before in my office, when Steph said something that completely distracted me. What she said was:
“Could whoever went through your closet and left the lingering cigar smell on our boat have been looking for that shoe Katie found, floating in the water beside the dock, the day Lorenzo was murdered?”
This statement dropped like a stone in a calm pool of water, sending ripples of surprise out from it. We all looked at each other in silence. “I had completely forgotten about that,” was all I could manage to say.
“Katie will know where the shoe is,” said Thomas logically. “But I really can’t imagine what significance a shoe can have,” he added.
“Where is Katie?” I asked looking around. “Last time I saw her she was doing cartwheels, handsprings, and back walkovers in the field” I added, looking in that direction
“Well, let’s go find her,” said Kevin jumping up and marching down the dock, leaving the rest of us to chase after him. At the top of the ramp Kevin, again in his take-charge manner, said, “Let’s spread out, she can’t be far.”
“I’ll take the back field,” said Steph, heading off that way.
The rest of us followed suit, going in different directions. “Rendezvous back here in 20 min,” yelled Kevin, as he headed toward the coffee shop, Thomas to walk the docks, and I went to walk up the street of the small village of Cedar Grove. Clearly whoever did the naming of this area just looked around and picked the first two things he saw: geraniums as in naming of Geranium Island, and cedar trees for the village of Cedar Grove. I had to laugh to myself. As I quickly walked passed one of my favorite stores, “Island Treasures,” I couldn’t help glancing in the window because they always had such cute stuff. The residents of Geranium Island are very crafty, or maybe I should say artsy—okay, let’s settle for talented. From hand-crafted driftwood salad bowls and dishes to pottery, art, clothing, etc., I almost always fell in love with some knick-knack whenever I went into that store. But not today. Right now we had to find Katie and get to the bottom of the Shoe Mystery. There had to be something about that shoe. Otherwise, why had our boats been searched?
Well, Katie was not in the corner grocery, nor had she been, according to the checkout clerk. Looking at my watch I realized that 17 minutes had passed and I had better head back to Kevin’s rendezvous. Past experience had taught me that the abuse I would face if I was late wasn’t worth it, and I was sure one of the group would have found Katie.
“What, no Katie?!” I asked in surprise, looking around at the concerned faces of the group.
“We hoped you had found her!” said Thomas with distress.
“Where could she be? How could she disappear on this small island?” I exclaimed. I was trying to stay calm, but that feeling of fear and dread, that something might really have happened to her, was starting to overwhelm me.
Thomas, who knows me better than anyone else, said to me in his stern CEO tone, “Don’
t panic, stay calm: we need to think right now.”
It worked, even though that tone irritated me, since I’m not one of his employees and this wasn’t a work crisis, it was about his daughter.
“Ok, what do you propose we do?” I snarled, looking around frantically. “We just searched for her!”
“True, and now we are going to search again. She is a smart girl and I can’t believe she would just wander off with someone with out telling us. Plus, look around. This place is packed with tourists. She would have screamed if she had been grabbed or forcibly taken,” Thomas said logically.
“Oh my God,… the ferry!” Kevin whispered.
We all turned as one to look at the slow-moving line of cars off to the left of where we were standing, at the end of the main street of Cedar Grove. Cedar Grove is one of those picturesque villages that consists of one main street that starts at the ferry dock, lined with shops mostly of the tourist variety but including a coffee shop, pub, and diner, and ending at the corner grocery. The marina is mid-town, in a small bay, with the ferry dock on the left and a park on the right with a gazebo in the field where community events and picnics are held. The main dock ramp comes up to this field, then there is a picturesque path that wraps around to the ferry dock where the cars were loading on the ferry!
“We have to stop the ferry!” I cried and started to run toward the dock.
“Wait!! You’ll never get there in time!” Kevin yelled after me. Stopping and almost in tears, I had to admit he was right. “We need to call the police and have the ferry searched at the other side. Thomas where is your phone?!” I demanded.
“Hold on and calm down, Janeva,” said Greg in his professional doctor voice. “We don’t even know that Katie is on that ferry. She could have found a friend and gone to their boat, or be in a store. Did you check them all?”
“Of course not, there wasn’t time,” I snapped.
Thomas put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me into a hug. “Janeva. Take a deep breath. We will search again, this time look everywhere. We have 40 minutes until the ferry reaches the dock on the other side, so let’s split up and meet back here in 30 minutes. That way we will still have time to call the police if we haven’t found her.”
A half hour later, we met up at the rendezvous, a sad and shocked group.
Thomas had his phone out and was about to dial when—
“Janeva, Thomas—it’s Katie!…. There she is!” yelled Steph, pointing up the street.
We all turned and, yes, there she was walking down the street, smiling and chatting to Tiffany.
I ran up to her and hugged and hugged her again. “Where have you been, we have been searching the whole island for you!” I demanded.
“Mom, what’s wrong? I was only with Tiff, “ replied Katie, looking bewildered.
“I’m so sorry, Janeva,” said Tiffany, looking very confused. “We saw Katie on the lawn and she walked up to the store with us.”
Cody had just walked up behind them, his arms full of bags.
“Katie, of course it’s okay for you to be with Tiffany and Cody, but it’s not okay for you to go off without letting your mother and me know where you are going!” scolded Thomas.
At the emotion in his words and the reprimand, Katie immediately broke into tears. I hugged her even tighter. “Your father is right. You had us running all over the island; we were just about to call the police.”
“The police!” Tiffany and Katie said in unison.
“Yes, young lady,” Kevin jumped in. “We thought you had been abducted and were on the ferry in some car!”
“Abducted on Geranium Island?” said Cody in surprise.
“I know we overreacted, but after Lorenzo’s murder, the break-in at his office, and our boats being searched last night…,” I replied, still hugging Katie.
“Mom, you’re squishing me, she whined, and wriggled free, only to be hugged by her dad.
“When did you guys get here?” Greg asked Tiffany and Cody. Looking at her watch, Tiffany answered, “I don’t know; about 45 minutes ago.”
“And you’ve already managed to buy that much stuff?” said Steph, shaking her head.
“Tiff can out-shop anyone!” Cody replied.
“Cody—that’s not true,” Tiffany pouted. “We were here a few weeks ago and I ordered the cutest stuff for our guest bathroom. The store just called this morning to say it was ready.”
Looking at the bags, Steph said, “‘Island Treasures’—I love the stuff from that store. What did you get?”
Rolling his eyes as Tiffany started to dig through the bags, Kevin ordered us all back to the dock if we were going to unpack bags.
Later, I followed Katie topside (on deck) after our family meeting and a reestablishment of the rules. I had to laugh as I looked at all Tiffany’s purchases, spread out before her.
Steph was oohing and ahhing over a handmade soap-dish in the shape of a rowboat painted blue, with oars, and a matching toothbrush holder made to look like a lighthouse, matching blue and white towels, bath mats, and then there were the clothes. Oh how I wish I had Tiffany’s shopping budget. On second thought, even if I did, really, where would I put everything?
“Okay, enough about clothes…. What about the shoe that started this all?” boomed Kevin.
Turning to Katie I asked, “Honey, do you remember that shoe you found in Princes Louisa?”
“Of course I do, Mom,” she retorted, like I had asked her something that was clearly obvious.
“Great,” I replied, refusing to be dragged into an argument. She was clearly still upset about our earlier reaction to her wandering off with Tiffany. “Where is it?”
“In my room,” she replied blandly.
“At home or on the boat?” I persevered.
“Here.”
“Really?” I replied, surprised because I hadn’t seen it when I looked in her room. But I was clever enough not to say that. Instead I asked, “Could you run and get it? We would like to have a look at it.”
She shrugged and went off to get the shoe.
When she returned, it was clear to me why I hadn’t seen the shoe. The white shoe was covered—and I mean every inch of it was covered—with glitter glue and colored felt pen doodles, and the opening of the shoe, where your foot would normally go in, was full of felt pens and other colored ballpoint pens. Put on her desktop with all her other crafts, miscellaneous toys, and stuffed animals, I could see how both our intruder and I had missed it. When she handed it to me I took out the pens, giving them back to her and asking her to put them in her room. I turned the shoe around and looked inside and under it, but it just looked like a ordinary, if highly decorated, shoe to me. At this point I had to hand it over to Thomas, who was hovering above me, wanting his turn to discover what mysteries the shoe might hold.
The shoe was dutifully passed around to Kevin then Greg, Steph, Cody, Tiffany, Sam, and to Katie, who had been filled in by now as to why we were SO interested in her shoe, then finally back to me. Anyone watching would have smiled or laughed to themselves as they saw seven adults and two teenagers, sitting on folding chairs on the dock or boatside, and even on the raised edge of the dock, playing a strange “pass the glittering shoe” game, each person more eager than the last to get his or her hands on the shoe. As we got more desperate we started to dismantle the shoe, which was no small task. After the sole was lifted out and showed no secret compartment, like some Nike shoes have for pedometer inserts, we realized that a more determined approach was required.
As Kevin, Sam, Greg, Cody Katie, and Tiffany went off in search of tools that might help us dismantle the shoe, Steph and I went off to our own boats—to make bruschetta and tortilla chips with dip in Steph’s case, and strawberry-banana blender drinks in mine. I made the first batch as virgin non-alcoholic drinks for Katie and Sam, who had been coaxed away from his video games for now to join us.
Chapter Fourteen
Dismantling a Shoe
The shoe dismantle
ment was temporarily halted as appetizers and drinks were consumed, while the discussion was all about what a shoe could possibly hide.
“It must be drugs,” suggested Kevin.
“Really. And how much could you store in a shoe, Dad?” retorted Sam.
“I don’t know—coke or crack? You don’t need much of that to make the shoe valuable.”
“A secret message,” suggested Katie.
“Perhaps it’s a prototype shoe,” suggested Steph.
“Looks ordinary to me,” responded her husband Greg, as he turned the shoe around and held it up to the light. As he stared at the bottom he said, “What about electronics?”
“Yes, a flash drive!” agreed Thomas. “We need to be very careful dismantling this shoe.”
And so the discussion went, until the food was cleared away, drinks refilled, and we were able to convince Tiffany and Cody to join us for dinner. I love to cook and always make way too much food, so I usually had to find a creative way to reuse any leftovers in a new recipe as my family doesn’t eat leftovers. I know, “Eye Roll,” but it’s really my own fault as I keep cooking up new things. Actually, I enjoy the challenge of turning leftover ribs into pulled pork for burritos, or leftover chicken into chicken pot pie, etc.
I took out the pre-marinated steaks to get them to room temperature and made a béchamel sauce (Katie’s favorite) with garlic and tarragon from my herb garden for the homemade pasta (Thomas’s favorite) that I had made at home and bought with us. I boiled the pasta water, turning it down to a simmer until just before we were ready to eat, since homemade pasta only takes 3 to 4 minutes to cook. I went up top to see how Steph’s salad and garlic bread were coming along. Kevin, as usual, was providing the wine. He has an amazing wine cellar.