Well Read, Then Dead (Read Em and Eat Mystery)

by Terrie Farley Moran

  Cady’s shoulders slumped momentarily, and then he decided to make the most of being the center of attention. He took a sip of coffee, broke the corner off a slice of corn bread and slathered it with honey butter.

  He took a bite and chewed for what seemed like forever. It was bread, for goodness’ sake, not an overcooked steak. He knew I wasn’t a patient woman, and yet he chewed on.

  Cady swallowed, took another sip of coffee and said, “Tell me about the cat.”

  I wasn’t used to him trying my patience, but I went along with this information “trade.”

  “She was hungry and bedraggled. Ryan said they found her next to Skully. She clawed and spit at anyone who came near until someone from Animal Rescue lured her into a carrier.”

  Bridgy jumped in. “She needs a checkup and we promised to take her to a vet. Do you know one we can use?”

  “Sure. Cynthia Mays, a block past John’s church, right before the drugstore.”

  Bridgy nodded at me to keep prodding Cady while she went to call the vet’s office.

  As soon as she moved away, Cady looked me directly in the eye.

  “I’m not sure why you think I’m totally gullible, but before I tell you even one word, you have to promise me that this whole idea of you and Miss Augusta ‘looking into’ Miss Delia’s murder is a farce you are playing to keep Augusta happy.”

  I folded my hands on the tabletop and tried to look like a prim and proper schoolgirl.

  “Honestly. All I’m trying to do is make sure that Miss Augusta is in the loop, so to speak, so that she doesn’t wind up hearing bad-to-worse news about Delia from some deputy’s aunt, or, God forbid, see an update on WINK news. It wouldn’t be good for her heart.”

  Cady looked concerned. “I didn’t know she had a heart condition.”

  Now I was stuck. Far as I knew she was healthy as a horse.

  “Well, she is nearly eighty. Can’t be too careful.”

  When he nodded in agreement, I felt less like a liar.

  Bridgy came back and thanked Cady profusely.

  “That vet’s staff is super nice. As soon as I explained the circumstances, the lady checked with the doctor and said we should bring Bow by as soon as we close up shop. She’ll not only give Bow the once-over, but she’ll send a report to Animal Rescue for us.”

  Cady’s version of what happened was much the same as Ryan’s. Cady was certain that an outsized high tide wave caught Skully off balance, knocked him down, and he whacked his head on the side of the rowboat.

  “Happens at high tide all the time.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to run. Tell Ophelia that her corn bread is outstanding.” And he made that hair-smoothing gesture as he hurried out the door.

  Bridgy looked at me.

  “So? Accident?”

  “Not a chance. What was Skully doing at the Point when we know he was always welcome at Tony’s boatyard? And didn’t we see his canoe at Tony’s night before last with our own eyes?” I shook my head. “There’s a lot more to this.”

  The door opened and hungry folks looking for lunch started to pile in.

  Business was booming as more and more snowbirds flocked to the island. Each day the number of customers increased. Creative as Ophie was in the kitchen, I missed our highly organized and never overwrought Miguel. After Ophie insisted, not once but twice, that a real cheeseburger could only be made with American cheddar, Bridgy got testy.

  “The customer asked for Swiss.”

  “That’s the second time in half an hour. Y’all know the customer’s not always right, in spite of that old saying. If they want Swiss, let ’em vacation in the Alps. Why are they here at the beach?”

  Each time, Bridgy took over the stove and fixed the Swiss Family Robinson Cheeseburger, biting her tongue and not telling Ophie we offer Swiss cheeseburgers and we intended to serve them. I like to think that’s what I would have told her; then again, maybe not.

  Still, during a particularly busy half hour, as we exchanged dishes at the pass-through, I had to giggle when Bridgy whispered, “I know the budget is tight, but do you think we could offer Miguel a raise when he comes back to work?”

  Just as the café was quieting down, Rowena came in for a takeout of sweet tea and Miss Marple Scones. While I packed up her order, she browsed the bookshelves and came back with a hardcover of We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson.

  “Says here she wrote ‘The Lottery.’ That was required reading in my high school. Chilling.” She shivered involuntarily. “This the same kind of story?”

  I told her I supposed that it was a different kind of chilling, but chilling all the same. “Give it a try. If you don’t like it, the library is always looking for these classic books. You can give it to Sally as a donation. She’ll put the Emporium on a bookplate.”

  Head librarian Sally Caldera was a savvy fund-raiser. If you donated a usable book to the library, she’d put a “dedicated by” sticker on the inside cover. If you owned a business, Sally would put the name of your business on the bookplate. And since she, and she alone, judged which books were acceptable, I found local merchants often asked me if this book or that would meet Sally’s criteria.

  Sure enough Rowena decided to try the Jackson book. I took her payment and went to offer a high chair to a couple coming in the door with an active toddler. The mother accepted gratefully.

  A few minutes later Bridgy was standing behind the register waving a book in hand. “Are we holding this for someone?”

  Rowena had forgotten her book. I told Bridgy to put it under the counter and if Rowena didn’t come back for it by closing, we’d drop it off on our way to the vet.

  Later that afternoon, I was sitting in the Heap-a-Jeep and I didn’t mind that Bridgy was in Rowena’s longer than I thought she should be, because Bow was purring softly in the carrier. I fancied she was getting used to me. When Bridgy came out of the Emporium, she was waving a length of blue ribbon exactly the color of Delia’s special dress.

  “Look what I found.”

  I grabbed the ribbon from her hand.

  “I love it! Bow, look what Auntie Bridgy found for you. When Doctor Mays gets you cleaned up, you’ll be such a pretty girl.”

  Of course I made the mistake of holding the ribbon in front of the carrier, and Bow took a swat at it, hitting the carrier doors and yowling her discontent.

  Bridgy ignored the cat. She was focused on Rowena.

  “You know what’s odd? Rowena was redoing her display of Skully’s shell jewelry. Besides the wire designs, she had a lot of his fishing line jewelry. I had no idea he’d sold her that, too.”

  “Lucky for her she arranged the consignment while Skully was still healthy enough to sign it. Now who knows?”

  But the mere mention of Skully jiggled loose the question I thought of earlier . Why was Skully mooring his boat at the Point, when he mostly used Tony’s landing, less than forty yards away?

  We turned north out of the parking lot, ready for Doctor Mays to give Bow her examination and spruce-up, so we could tie her new ribbon around her neck and let Augusta know she was fine and dandy. Of course, where Bow would live was another problem entirely.

  Chapter Twenty-two ||||||||||||||||||||

  The Island Veterinary Center was a melon-colored stucco building that fronted Estero Boulevard. Bright yellow shutters with cutouts of kittens and puppies added a warm and welcoming look. As soon as we got out of the car Bow perked up. She started to meow and tapped the carrier door as opposed to the forceful swatting she’d been doing from time to time.

  The waiting room was empty except for a grandmotherly type sitting behind the counter. She looked up from her computer monitor and gave us a friendly smile. I guess she pressed a button somewhere on her desk, because the door behind her opened and a tall African American woman came through. A black and gray striped blo
use tucked into a bright red skirt peeked out from under her crisp white medical coat. She gave us a generous smile but, intent on her patient, bent to the carrier immediately.

  “Bow, honey. I’m so sorry for what happened to Miss Delia and I apologize for being thoughtless. I expected you were with family, safe and sound. Poor kitty.”

  When she stood straight the doctor shook our hands. “I’m Cynthia Mays. Bow’s been my patient since Miss Delia rescued her. Tragedy, isn’t it?” She shook her head and then morphed back to veterinarian rather than potential friend.

  “Let’s get Bow into the examining room.”

  I handed her the carrier, and when we didn’t move, she motioned. “Come along.”

  Once inside, the doctor placed the carrier on a table, snapped on plastic gloves and opened the door slowly. She didn’t have to entice Bow, who walked right out and began sniffing the paper table covering.

  Doctor Mays said, “She’s looking for her treat. On wellness visits every patient gets a treat first thing. So when they have to come back, they remember the treat before they remember the prodding and poking.”

  Then she picked the cat up tenderly. “No treat yet, Miss Bow. Not until we’re sure it’s safe for you to eat.”

  I blushed, knowing we never thought it might not be safe when we gave Bow milk and bits of tuna back at the café. Still, she seemed none the worse for it, so we stood quietly by, amazed at how cooperative Bow was.

  We heard the doctor say, “Uh-oh.” Then she looked closer at Bow’s right flank and reached for a scissor. She snipped a chunk of hair and sealed it in a plastic baggie, writing a notation on the outside.

  Finally Doctor Mays opened a drawer, took out a cat treat and hand-fed it to Bow. I marveled. I’d be afraid she’d nip me. But then I’m not a veterinarian.

  “Bow seems okay physically. The only indication of possible trauma was some blood matted in her hair, but she has no injury so it’s not her blood. I bagged, signed and dated it for the sheriff’s office. Given what happened to Miss Delia . . .

  “Bow’s emotional well-being is another matter entirely.”

  Bridgy and I nodded mutely.

  “We’ll get her cleaned up and fed and then I’d like to keep her overnight as a precaution, and then, we’ll see. Have you given any thought as to where Bow will be living now that Miss Delia is . . . gone?”

  Bridgy and I exchanged a telling glance.

  “What?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “Miss Delia’s cousin, Miss Augusta Maddox, is allergic and can’t take Bow, but she’s looking for a friend or neighbor who can.”

  “I was wondering if either of you would be interested in giving Bow a home.”

  “We’d love to, but we live in an apartment,” I confessed mournfully.

  The doctor hit the foot pedal on the sink and put an ounce or so of water in a bowl for Bow. Then she slid the cat and the bowl in the carrier.

  “You stay right here, my sweetheart. Inga will be right in to get you cleaned and fed.”

  Doctor Mays ushered us out the door and into her office, where she explained what we already suspected. Bow was so used to the freedom of living in a house where she could come and go, wander through backyards and track fish among the mangroves, living in an apartment would be unsuitable.

  “Dangerous, even. Who knows what lengths she’d go to trying to get her freedom? We need another solution. Let me keep her a day or two while you scout out the perfect home. Otherwise, we’ll see if Animal Rescue has anyone on their list who lives in the right kind of house and is willing to love her.” The doctor emphasized the most important criteria.

  Before we left, we gave Doctor Mays our contact information along with the teal blue ribbon Bridgy bought at the Emporium. The doctor bade us good night and promised that Bow would be gorgeous the next time we saw her.

  On the way to Augusta’s house Bridgy and I worked out a plan. The way news spread around the island, Augusta may well have heard about Skully. We would tell her the happy news about Bow. If she mentioned Skully, we’d admit that Bow was with him. If she didn’t question, we wouldn’t say a word.

  A haggard-looking Augusta was already in her pajamas no matter that it was still daylight. Happy as she was that Bow was found and safe, she couldn’t shake the faded look of someone whose life had been irretrievably changed.

  “That Doctor Mays, she loves her animals. Just seeing her will do Bow a world of curing. But we got to find Bow a home.” She looked at us and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose . . . ?”

  I shook my head. “Apartment dwellers.”

  “Won’t work then. Apartment’ll kill her for sure. Watching a bird fly by the window, out she’ll try to go. I’m sure you’ll do your best to get someone to give her a happy home.”

  Doctor Mays, Augusta, everyone was holding us accountable for Bow’s safety and happiness.

  “Speaking of getting, you find them wreckers yet?”

  The past few days I’d barely had time to comb my hair, and I absolutely did not want Miss Augusta to know about my run-ins with Bucket Hat, so I smiled brightly and promised that my next stop was to scout out the research desk at the library, hoping to find anyone who’s showing interest in sunken galleons and the like.

  She leaned back and her shoulders relaxed. “Okay, then, I’ll hear from you shortly.”

  When we got in the Heap-a-Jeep, Bridgy checked the time on her phone.

  “We could rush over to the library with about twenty minutes to spare before closing time. We’re not likely to be able find out much in those few minutes. I say we visit Miguel.” As a practical matter she added, “The hospital stays open for visitors far later than the library.”

  It made sense. How much could I really find out in a few minutes, and besides, I was wondering if Miguel was still full of sparkle, or if his broken leg was starting to wear him down.

  We made a quick stop in the gift shop again and were surprised to find Miguel in bed instead of tearing around the room in his wheelchair or on crutches. Our balloons were still flying high, although now the three were a colorful bouquet, all tied to a cup hook someone had screwed into the wall several paint jobs ago.

  “¿Qué pasa? How is my kitchen?” His smile was less manic than yesterday, so I suspected the dosage of his pain meds had been reduced.

  Instead of answering, I dropped a fluffy toy cat right on the edge of his bed. It wasn’t quite as coal colored as Bow, but with a red ribbon tied cheerily around its neck, it was a sweet imitation. “Bow is fine. Sheriff’s deputies found her at the Point and she’s at the veterinarian right now.”

  Miguel’s head drooped and I noticed he pushed the cat off to the side.

  “What? I thought you’d be happy. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing wrong. I am pleased that Bow is safe. I wonder how you are managing in the kitchen. Ophie is an okay cook, but . . .”

  He didn’t need to worry about that right now. I swallowed the urge to tell him Ophie was driving us crazy. We both reassured him that the café was humming along, and we passed on greetings from some of the regulars.

  “Sally Caldera stopped in to ask if you wanted her to reserve any specific books to keep you entertained during your recovery. She’s so thoughtful. Any books you can think of?”

  Miguel stared out the window for a couple of minutes, ignoring us completely. He turned back to us, flapping his hand dismissively.

  “I’m tired. I need to rest.” And he closed his eyes, expecting, I suppose, that we would disappear before he opened them again. Finally, we did.

  In the elevator, I asked Bridgy what we’d done or said to upset him.

  “I don’t know. He’s probably starting to realize the long road ahead before his life is back to normal. Visiting hours won’t end for a while. I’d love to see Skully, if only we knew his real nam
e.” She took out her phone. “I’ll call Ryan.”

  “We know his name. He told Rowena, remember? Thomas Smallwood. Ryan said Skully was unconscious. If he still is, we could leave a gift at his bedside. Probably won’t get many visitors.” We got off the elevator and I led the way to the glass-walled gift shop.

  Instinctively I steered away from balloons and plush animals, knowing they wouldn’t have much appeal. On a shelf toward the back I found a wooden canoe filled with hard candies and wrapped in blue cellophane. Just the right touch.

  The receptionist directed us to a room on the second floor. A nurse was feeding an elderly man on one side of the white curtain partially drawn between two beds. Skully was lying in the other bed with his eyes closed. Coma? Sleep? We had no idea.

  I tiptoed across the room to his night table and began shifting things around so I could put the canoe where he could reach it. I was moving his tissue box when Skully opened his eyes.

  “Who?” His eyes swung from me to Bridgy and back again. “Oh, you two. From the café.” An almost-smile crossed his lips. I couldn’t be sure whether he was glad to see us, or pleased he was able to recognize us.

  I held out the canoe and he took it with the hand that wasn’t attached to tubes and wires. “Thank ye kindly. Nice of you to visit. Could you set it on the table?”

  Bridgy’s curiosity got the best of her, so she skipped all the niceties and went straight to what bothered her most. “You’re such an experienced sailor, how could you wind up unconscious on the beach inches from the water’s edge?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  He caught the puzzled look on our faces. “I don’t remember a dang thing after I went for supplies and loaded up the canoe in Tony’s boatyard.”

  Bridgy went all owly eyed. I opened my mouth and closed it again. I’m sure we both had the same thought. If Skully’s boat started out at Tony’s dock, how did it wind up beached at the Point? It was quicker and easier to walk from Tony’s to the Point than to row.

  I decided to try again. “You don’t remember anything?”