“Oh, you don’t have to pay for that.”
“Hey, the reason you’re selling this stuff is because you need the money, remember?”
“A quarter isn’t going to break me.”
“Well, I’m not one for accepting charity, either, and I already did that by letting you guys cut my grass and shape up the yard last night.”
“Kathy bartered for your services,” Tori reminded her.
“Yeah, and I got the better part of the deal. What would I have been doing yesterday afternoon and this morning if I hadn’t gone over to the house with her?”
Tori nodded and considered mentioning what Kathy had said about the altercation between her father and Biggie Taylor the week before. Before she could say a word, Herb’s truck pulled into the drive and he parked beside the Dumpster.
“Yee-ha!” he called as he got out of the truck. He grabbed a couple of plastic grocery bags from the back of the pickup and hurried over to join the women. “I won! I won!”
“Won what?” Anissa asked.
“Scratch off.”
“How much?” Tori asked, hoping with all her heart it was enough to pay an electrician.
“Ten bucks.”
“Is that all?” she nearly wailed. “How much did you spend on tickets?”
“Ten bucks.”
“Then you didn’t win. You broke even,” Tori said with exasperation.
“It’s better than nothing,” he said, perturbed.
“Congratulations,” Anissa said, stifling a laugh.
“At least somebody’s happy,” he said and glared at Tori. Then his gaze shifted to Anissa. “We’re having egg salad for lunch. You want to stay?”
Anissa shook her head. “Oh, no. I just stopped by to say hi to Tori.”
Herb shrugged. “If you change your mind, there’ll be plenty. I always make enough for at least five sandwiches.” He turned for the house.
“He’s right. He doesn’t know how to make a small batch of egg salad, and it’s really good.”
“Thanks, anyway.”
“Well, would you consider another barter?”
“What do you mean?”
Tori glanced over to the tall lamppost that stood at the head of the dock. “I need an electrician. You said you could do electrical work.”
“The lights?” she asked.
Tori nodded.
Anissa walked over the pole and looked up. “Burned out bulbs or do you need new wiring?”
“I don’t know what it needs. It hasn’t worked for a while and we’ve lost customers because of it.”
“You got a ladder?”
“In the boathouse.”
“Let’s go get it.”
Tori looked from the bait shop to the house. There were no customers in sight, so she went inside, hung the sign Herb used when he needed a bathroom break that said Back in 5 minutes, and locked the door. Anissa followed her to the boathouse.
Like the table she and Kathy had retrieved earlier, the wooden ladder was covered in decades worth of dirt and spider webs. “Ick!” Tori complained.
Anissa shrugged. “When you work in construction, you get used to stuff like this.” She grabbed the ladder without help, and headed for the door. Tori doubted she could have carried it, but Anissa made the task look easy.
A minute later, Anissa had set the ladder up against the pole. “You steady it from the bottom. I don’t trust this old thing.”
“Of course,” Tori said.
If Anissa was afraid of anything, it didn’t show. She practically scampered up the ladder. She took her time examining the lamp, before she started back down the ladder. “The fixture’s shot.”
“What would it cost to get a new one?”
“A really good one? Six or seven hundred bucks.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Tori cried. Anissa shook her head. No wonder Herb hadn’t replaced the thing. “We haven’t got that kind of money.”
“You can get a cheapy for a couple hundred,” Anissa said.
Tori let out a shaky breath. “Where?”
“Might have to go to Rochester for one. Why don’t you google it?”
Tori nodded, feeling defeated. “Well, we have to have one. I’ll be going back to the city to get more of my stuff on Monday. If I can find something, I’ll buy it.”
“Why don’t I drive you to Rochester? We’ll buy a replacement lamp, and then go to your place. You can put your stuff in the back of my truck. You’d get more in it than that tiny clown car you drive.”
“Clown car?”
“It is a compact,” Anissa pointed out.
“It gets good mileage.”
“It’s a death trap,” Anissa said.
Tori sighed. Maybe it was. She looked at the canopy. Maybe they’d pull in some money with the yard sale, but she’d have to raise her prices and list the better stuff on Craigslist. She could use her credit card to buy the light fixture and figure out how to pay Anissa for her labor—as well as pay for her gas to and from Rochester.
“Okay. We’ll go Monday.”
“Fine.”
Tori nodded. Now she really felt she owed Anissa. “Did Kathy mention Biggie Taylor?”
Anissa laughed. “Sounds like a rapper.”
“I don’t know who he is, but one of Gramps’ customers said this guy Biggie Taylor and your father had an argument last weekend over on the bridge. Something about Biggie stealing your father’s bait.”
Anissa’s eyes narrowed. “No, she didn’t say anything.”
Tori let out a breath. “Kathy overheard the customer talking.” She was about to say with Gramps, but thought better of it, especially as he’d warned the guy not to say anything.
“Does your grandfather know this guy?”
“I don’t think so. But our competition across the bridge might. When Gramps comes back out, why don’t we take a walk over there? That way I can scope the place out, too.”
Anissa nodded, her expression somber. “All right.”
Tori dug into her pants pocket for the keys to the bait shop and unlocked the door. She took down the sign and came back outside just as a small fishing boat with a man and a woman onboard tied up to the dock.
“Looks like you might have some customers,” Anissa said.
“Hey, guys. Can I help you?” Tori called.
“Need to buy some spikes. You got any?” the guy asked, his gaze straying to Anissa.
“Sure. Come on into the shop.”
The man followed her into the shop, while the woman perused the yard sale items.
“Heard there was a murder here earlier this week,” the man said eagerly.
Tori frowned. “I’m afraid so. The police have asked us not to talk about it,” she fibbed. She had no desire to feed his curiosity.
“It was that black guy, Jackson, wasn’t it?”
Anissa suddenly appeared in the doorway, alerted by the man using her surname.
Tori nodded, and rang up the sale, but the man didn’t seem in a hurry to pay.
“I guess I’ve known the old guy about ten years.”
“Is that so?” Tori said neutrally.
“Poor guy was crazy.”
“Oh?”
He nodded, leaning against the counter, like he was getting ready to launch into a long story. “Everybody on the bay has been talking about it.”
“To the police?” Tori asked.
“Are you kidding? I told you the guy was crazy, and we’d be crazy to talk to the cops.”
“Why was he crazy?” Tori asked.
“He kept on and on about lights on the bay at night. Of course there are lights on the bay. It’s the law. Your boat has to have lights on it for safety, but he kept insisting it was something different, but he couldn’t say what.”
“You really should tell the police. I’d be glad to give you the lead detective’s name.”
The man shook his head, finally fishing for his wallet. “Nah, I don’t want to get involved.”
“I’m not worried. I live over in Salmon Creek.”
“How do you know the killer lives around here?” Anissa asked.
The guy’s head turned so fast he was in danger of whiplash. He eyed Anissa, his bravado dissipating He shrugged, then turned back and handed Tori a ten. She made change.
“Honey,” the woman called from outside. “Come look at this.”
The man picked up his foam container of bait and sidled past Anissa. She stepped inside. “Lights on the bay at night?” she repeated.
“He’s right. A boat is supposed to have a green light in the bow and a red one in the stern.”
“You sound like a regular sailor,” she commented.
“I took a boating safety course when I was ten and passed with flying colors,” Tori bragged.
Anissa merely scowled.
“Hello!” the woman outside called. “I’d like to buy some of your stuff.”
Tori walked around the counter and went outside to take care of her new customer.
The woman ended up dropping almost eighteen dollars, buying salt shakers, mixing bowls, a kitchen scale, crocheted potholders, an assortment of cooking utensils, and a number of mismatched bowls and plates. Tori was only too happy to pack the stuff into boxes and carry it to the boat where the woman’s impatient husband waited. As they were casting off—and starting what sounded like it might be a good argument—Tori rejoined Anissa.
“Now we have two unsubstantiated facts to check concerning my daddy’s death,” Anissa said.
“We?” Tori asked.
“Well, you did say you’d walk over the bridge with me.”
“I did. But I think we should also call Detective Osborn.”
Anissa glowered. “I don’t think that man gives a rat’s ass about finding my daddy’s killer.”
“It’s only been a couple of days,” Tori said reasonably.
“You might not be so patient if it was somebody you loved who’d been found dead,” Anissa said coldly.
Shame rushed through her, and Tori frowned. “I’m sorry, Anissa. I did lose someone this week, it wasn’t quite as sudden as your loss, but I have an inkling of what you’re going through. Maybe we can help each other get through our grief.”
Anissa nodded and sighed. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of wine back at my place. If you’ve got nothing better to do tonight, why don’t you come by and we’ll commiserate.”
“Sounds great.”
They heard the screen door to the house slam, and Herb came back out. He held half a sandwich in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. He joined them in front of the sale table. “Hey, looks like you sold a lot of stuff.”
“Yeah, and we’re going to need to sell a whole lot more to pay for a new light fixture for the dock,” Tori said. “Anissa had a look. We’re going to pick one up on Monday when we go into Rochester to get more of my stuff.”
“I’m glad your grandma’s junk can help pay for it. Goodness knows it wasn’t doing us any good.” He took a big bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “I made a bunch of sandwiches and left them in the fridge for you girls.”
Anissa frowned at the word ‘girls.’
“Thanks, Gramps. We’ll have them in a while. We’re going to put the ladder away and then take a walk across the bridge to check out the competition,” Tori said.
Herb raised an eyebrow, stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Don’t let Don tell you any fish tales about me,” he warned.
“I hadn’t planned on bringing up your name,” Tori said. “We’ll be back in a while.”
Herb polished off the last bite of his sandwich and entered the bait shop.
Tori helped Anissa carry the ladder back to the boathouse, then they crossed the parking area and headed for the road. “Remember when we used to go fishing on the bridge when we were kids?”
Anissa managed a smile. “As I recall, I was afraid of worms, and you had to bait my hook.”
“And now you’re braver than me by doing scary things like climbing ladders and doing electrical work.”
“Working construction, I’ve dealt with all kinds of nasty stuff. Petrified mice and rats; active wasp nests when ripping out drywall; black mold, termites, cockroaches. You name it, I’ve had to deal with it. But I still wouldn’t want to pick up a worm.”
Tori laughed.
They paused at the center of the bridge, where it had been bumped out to accommodate people fishing so that they wouldn’t block the wooden deck that acted as a sidewalk. In the water were the dinner-plate sized lotus leaves. Any time now, the water would be filled with the delicate white flowers. Some people who’d bought bait didn’t heed the no-littering signs and foam containers floated among the leaves as well. Slobs, Tori thought.
They rested their arms on the railing and looked out over the bay. “I love it here,” Tori said. “I want to live here forever.”
Anissa laughed. “Now you sound like Kathy.”
“Yeah, but she’s loved it here for two days. I’ve loved it here all my life. How about you?”
Anissa’s gaze was focused on the water below them. “I guess I love it here, too. I was happy when I lived here. I can’t say I’ve felt that way for most of the rest of my life.”
“My Gramps wants to sell the place. He says I can stay here until he sells it, but I guess I’ll eventually have to go back to Rochester. But not until I find another job and put some money in the bank. My boyfriend left and I just can’t hack the rent in my place by myself right now.”
“I’ll bet it’ll be hard to sell a bait-and-tackle shop. Your grandpa’s place could be on the market for years,” Anissa said. “That would give you some time to regroup.”
Tori managed a wry laugh. “I can but hope.” She pushed away from the railing and they began walking once again.
Like Cannon’s Bait & Tackle, the Bayside Live Bait & Marina was a squat building, but its façade was clad in vertical wood siding that was painted a drab brown. A hulking ice machine sat outside, filled with cubes and blocks, and signs tacked on the front of the building promised bait, boats for rent, dock space, accommodations, a gas pump, and a launch, where boats came and went all day.
“You don’t have a launch, do you?” Anissa asked.
“No, Gramps never had the money to invest in one. Everybody has to use this one—or the ones up at the point—to get their boats in the water, which is too bad. A lot of guys with boats don’t want to pay for a slip. They might only launch their boats a couple of times a year. This guy makes money every time they use his launch. Sometimes there’re as many as twenty pickups and trailers lining the hill. My Gramps doesn’t charge as much as he does for a slip. I’ll bet he hasn’t changed his prices in years.”
“Then shouldn’t all his slips be spoken for?” Anissa asked.
“You’d think.” Tori took a deep breath to gather her courage and entered the bait shop. It was well lit with walls painted a light yellow. The entire back wall was filled with fishing lures and other tackle—far more than Cannon’s had to offer. Two older good old boys dressed in jeans, flannel shirts, and orange life vests stood at the counter. Was the man behind it the owner or an employee? Of course, their conversation had stopped in mid-sentence when the women arrived.
“Can I help you girls?” the counterman said.
“Why do men insist on calling me a girl? I haven’t been a girl in almost twenty years,” Anissa bristled.
The guy ignored her mild rebuke, turning his gaze to Tori.
“We were wondering if you’d seen Biggie Taylor around?” she asked.
The counterman frowned. “Now what would a couple of nice girls like you want with a thug like that?”
“Don’t let Biggie hear you call him that,” said one of the customers. “He’ll cold cock you.”
The counterman shrugged. “Not if he ever want
s to rent a boat off me again.”
“He’s a thug?” Anissa asked. “Does he go around threatening people? Maybe steal their bait? Maybe kills them.”
“Whoa—whoa!” said the same customer, “I’m getting out of here.”
“I’ll join you,” said his friend, and the two of them hurried out the door.
“Tell me more about this thug,” Anissa insisted.
“Why do you want to know?” The counterman asked.
“Because word is he wasn’t very nice to my daddy last week. Now my daddy’s dead.”
“I’m real sorry about that, ma’am. Jackson was a good customer of mine.”
Tori frowned. She’d thought he’d been Gramps’s good customer.
“What can you tell me about Mr. Taylor?” Anissa asked.
Counterman shrugged. “He comes to fish on the bridge just about every Saturday during the summer. Sometimes he rents a boat, but only when he’s flush—which isn’t often.”
“I’m sorry; what’s your name?” Tori asked.
“Don Newton. And you are?”
“Tori,” she said succinctly, unwilling to give her surname. So, he was Bayside’s owner. “We heard that last weekend Mr. Taylor stole Mr. Johnson’s bait, or at least that they had words about it.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. As I said, he’s little more than a thug. Not at all like the rest of my customers,” he hurriedly explained.
“Do you think he could have killed my daddy?” Anissa asked.
Newton shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a big difference between being a bully and being a killer. I admit I don’t like Biggie, but he’s always paid his way with me.”
“So, you’re not afraid of this guy—like your customers are.”
“I’ve got a semi-automatic sitting under the counter. Anybody messes with me and I’ll have no problem exercising my second amendment rights.” His expression was as hard as his voice.
“What do you know about Lucinda Bloomfield?” Anissa asked.
“That bitch? She’d like to see all of us around here go out of business. She doesn’t like trade.” He said the word as though it was offensive.
“Why do you say that?” Tori asked.
“She’s as hard-assed as her old man ever was.”
“And just what has she done to give her this reputation?”
With Baited Breath Page 11