by Jill Winters
Hmm... she hadn't even gotten close to a conversation, much less asking him about Ted Schneider; maybe she was pussyfooting around too much. Maybe she needed a much more direct investigative approach. "Excuse me," she called, lifting her butt off the stool so the bartender would notice her over the tap. "Excuse me!" she called again, motioning to him with her finger.
"Yeah, lady, what?" he said impatiently, while he dunked some used glasses in a tub of grayish water, shook them out, and then put them on a drying rack. Ewww.
"I was just wondering..." she began, trying to position herself casually along the bar without actually touching anything. "Did you happen to know a man named Ted Schneider? He used to come in here sometimes. A big guy, tall, gray beard."
He nodded. "What about him?"
"Was he a regular?"
"Regular enough."
"Did he usually come in alone, or—"
"Hey, lady, what do I look like, friggin' Chuck Woolery? I'm not running a dating service here." He said that last part a little loudly for her taste, then headed to the other side of the bar, calling out, "Turk, another brewsky?"
Meanwhile, Billy swallowed tremulously as she noticed several of the Rusty Canoe's barflies staring at her.
"So you're looking for a date, huh?"
Startled, she turned and found a tall bald man right next to her. He wore trousers with long underwear and suspenders, and his smushed, sour face screamed, Elongated troll. Somehow he'd slithered up so close he was practically breathing on the top of her head. "No, no," Billy said, edging toward her left. (That side wasn't much better: a bucktoothed man with rabid freckles and a disconcerting resemblance to the kid from Problem Child.) "Just asking about a man," she said. Wait, that didn't come out right.
"Well, look no further," the tall one said, smiling and revealing a few less teeth than was ADA-recommended. "Your ship's come in."
A burst of laughter erupted at the bar, and someone let out a wolf whistle.
Almost grimacing, Billy said, "No, I meant I'm looking for some information. Did you by chance know a man named Ted Schneider?"
"Hold on there—I don't give any information till I get a slow dance."
What! Okay, that was so not happening. "I don't dance," Billy lied. "But thanks. So about Ted Schneider—"
"C'mon, one dance. One dance won't kill ya. I'm Willy, by the way," he said, and held out his hand to shake hers. Billy and Willy? It would almost be too precious if he didn't look like the crypt keeper on growth hormone.
"No, really," Billy insisted, "I... I sprained my ankle the other day, and it's still recuperating. But thanks. Now about this man—"
"Like I said, I don't bite the line unless you bait the hook."
More chortles and whistles. Okay, that was it. She'd tried. Forget it. She had no reason to think the troll even knew anything. "I said no," she reiterated for the last time, and turned around on her stool. She stretched up and looked over at Seth's table for the go signal. But Seth wasn't looking her way; he was talking to the waitress. Billy hoped at least he was getting somewhere... and she hoped he'd get there fast.
* * *
"Where's your date?" Leah asked, after setting down Seth's beer.
"My date? Oh, you mean my sister. She's over at the bar."
"So you were asking about some guy before?" Seth gave a description of Ted, and Leah recognized it right away.
"Did you know him well?"
Leah shook her head. "No, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. Never really hassled me. Well, except when he drank too much. Anyway, I never knew his name till I saw his picture in the paper—wait, you know he's dead, right?"
Seth tried to act surprised to see what more he could learn. "No, actually I didn't. How did he die?"
"Some kind of allergic reaction," she said with a shrug. "I read about it in the Gazette after it happened. It wasn't too detailed, just a little bit-piece about him."
"Ah, I see. What was that you said about Ted drinking too much?" Seth asked, because he suddenly remembered that Ted had been intoxicated at the jubilee. Or at least he'd seemed that way.
Leah nodded. "Yeah, that was the only thing. He was pretty decent, but sometimes when he drank, he didn't seem to know when to stop. And he didn't always hold his liquor too well."
"What do you mean?" Seth asked curiously.
"When Ted got drunk, he got—"
"Mean?"
"Stupid," she finished. "No, stupid's not the right word. Forgetful. Like he'd order the same thing twice, wouldn't remember he already ordered, or he'd ask me about the specials a million times."
"I see..." Seth said, nodding pensively. What Leah was telling him only seemed to confirm the possibility that Ted, in his drunkenness, had simply gotten confused at the Dessert Jubilee, and accidentally eaten something he shouldn't. Still, Billy was convinced Ted's death was no accident, and Billy had always been bright and intuitive. Seth was skeptical, of course, but he had to admit there was a possibility that she was right. "Did he ever mention how he liked Churchill? Why he moved here? Or where he was from?" Seth said.
"No, he pretty much kept to himself," Leah replied. "But he hated rich people; I know that. I overheard him going off about it a couple of times. About how the rich thought they could buy everyone. That's why I could never understand why he liked that woman he always came in with."
"What woman?" Seth asked, his gaze sharpening.
"His girlfriend, I guess," Leah said.
Interesting. In all of Sally's gossipy rants about Ted Schneider, she'd never mentioned his having a girlfriend. Maybe the woman was from out of town. And more important, maybe she knew something about Ted's death. At least it was a place to start. "I don't suppose you know his girlfriend's name?" Seth asked. "Or where I could find her?"
Leah scratched her head with the eraser of her pencil. "Jeez, I don't have a clue. She was old, kind of the prissy type, looked like she came from money." Tilting her head, Leah smirked. "Boy, you sure are interested in some guy you don't even know," she said. "Let's talk about something else, like me."
This definitely seemed like a good time to give Billy the signal. When he glanced over at the bar, he saw her perched on her stool, looking around aimlessly. Her big eyes seemed to take in everything, but never linger too long in any one place. And damn... she was pretty.
As soon as Billy made eye contact with Seth, she couldn't hop off her stool fast enough. She scurried back to the table and slid into the booth just as the bartender called out, "Hey, Leah, we're not running a welcome wagon here!"
Rolling her eyes, Leah turned to go, but Seth stopped her. "Wait, can we have some fried calamari and steamed oysters over here?" After Leah left, Seth grinned boyishly at Billy and said, "I realized I was kind of hungry."
"Oysters?" she said, grinning back. "Just don't get any ideas."
His face darkened then. Now he was a man, not a boy, undoubtedly remembering that incredibly sexy encounter on his kitchen table, and Billys cheeks flamed as she recalled it, too. Then she sucked in a sharp breath and reined her sanity back in.
"So how did it go? Did you learn anything about Ted?" she asked. Seth told her what Leah had said about Ted Schneider having a girlfriend, and Billy mulled it over. Then she tapped the table-top as though she had a revelation. "Ow!"
"What happened?" Seth said, instantly concerned.
"Oh, nothing, I think I just got a splinter," she said, studying her finger, then shook off the thought. "Anyway—you know what we need to do?"
"What?" Seth asked, hoping that if she wasn't going to say, Fool around, she'd at least say, Eat. But he had the distinct feeling she was about to cook up another errand for them to run, and before his meal came.
In the meantime he used her splinter as an excuse to touch her. Taking her hand in his, he examined her finger, then rubbed it gently and said, "No splinter."
"Thanks," she said, smiling. She tried to pull her hand back, and Seth reluctantly let go.
"You said
, 'You know what we need to do,' " he reminded her.
"Oh, right," Billy said, remembering now. "Break into Ted Schneider's boat."
"What?" He almost choked on his beer, and as he set it back down he let out a laugh. "I know you're joking...." Yet the intense look in her pale blue eyes said that she was quite serious. "No, Billy. No, that's not a good idea."
"Why not?" she pleaded, sounding a little like a kid pleading with a babysitter to let her get away with something.
"You have to ask?"
"Come on, it's key, don't you see? If we want to find out who his girlfriend was, we need to find out more about who he was. Starting with looking around his boat. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner. That's where I've been going wrong here."
"Oh, is that where?"
"Seriously, Seth... please?" she said, smiling extra sweetly. She knew she could do it alone, but she didn't want to. Seth was her partner now, and anyway, it was creepy down by the water at night.
He shook his head again. "No way, that's a terrible idea. We don't even know what we're looking for—-we don't even know how to break into his boat. Oh, and on a side note, it's against the law."
"We won't get caught," Billy protested, hoping that was true. Besides, it seemed that lawmen in Churchill were perpetually on vacation or out fishing.
"Anyway, what are we gonna find that'll point to Ted's killer? I mean, I know Deputy Trellis is kind of a dumb shit, but he must've at least checked out the boat."
"Yeah, but it was just mindless procedure to close the case—he didn't even know what to look for."
"And we do?"
"At least we have a lead. We know Ted was dating someone. Please, Seth? I'm not talking about damaging property or anything. But maybe... I don't know, if the boat is really this dilapidated old wreck, I'm thinking maybe it won't be that hard to get onto. It might not even be locked." She touched his shoulder, and despite the tingling electricity that traveled up her arm, she didn't let go, but squeezed him gently. "Please?"
Seth looked intently back at her, and finally released a sigh. Billy was looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes, searching his face, and there was a crackle there—an excitement—he could tell she liked this investigating... even though, when it came to the two of them, it was like the blind leading the blind.
But it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
Okay, that wasn't it. Really, he liked spending time with Billy... and he hoped she liked spending time with him, too. "Come on," she coaxed, tugging on his sleeve; his eyes dropped to where her hand clutched his shirt, and her palm slid off.
His eyes shot back up, meeting her expectant gaze. He wished she'd touch him again, and with more than her hand. "Okay," he finally said. "But no damaging property."
"Agreed."
"And if anyone comes, you run. I don't want you getting in trouble."
With wonder touching her smile, Billy said, "But what about you? If someone comes, I'm not gonna run off and forget about you."
"Don't worry about me. I have a way with the people in this town." She giggled, and Seth shook his head with exasperation. "Come on, let's go," he said, leaving a twenty on the table and sliding out of the booth. "Could you cancel that order?" he called to Leah on their way out the door.
As they left the Rusty Canoe behind, Seth felt an odd sense of ease, despite the crime they were about to commit, and despite how much he still ached to make love to Billy. There was just something about her. She was a calming, comforting presence, but an electric jolt of excitement, all at the same time. That was Billy... a sweet little spark of fire.
Chapter 18
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Seth whispered as thunder banged and cracked loudly overhead. By the time they'd left the Rusty Canoe, it had gone from drizzling to pouring-down rain, and violent bursts of light blazed through the black sky. "If you get struck by lightning, I'll never forgive myself."
"Don't worry; you're taller," Billy said glibly. "You'll be struck first."
"Yeah, thanks."
Billy grinned at him and scanned the marina to make sure no one was watching them as they broke onto Ted Schneider's boat—the SS Drifter. "Don't worry; this'll be fun," she whispered, and snapped on the flashlight they'd taken from Seth's glove compartment. Raindrops pummeled her face and plastered her hair to her head as she looked up at him. Gently Seth reached over to move a clump of wet hair out of her eyes. He kept his hand poised there for a moment before dropping it.
"Fine, since we're here," he said, grinning, "but your idea of fun needs work."
Seth went first, climbing up onto the deck of the boat and then holding out his hand to help Billy up. Just as she put her foot on the floorboards, a sonic boom of thunder hit. With a yelp she squeezed his hand and jumped forward. "Don't be scared," Seth said comfortingly, over wind and rain.
"Okay," Billy said. "I mean—I'm not."
"You know, we can still forget this whole thing and go home. It's pretty damn crazy, anyway. I mean, of all places during a thunderstorm, the ocean? Not smart."
"I know, but if we hurry, we'll be all right," Billy said. "We'll just take a quick look, and get the hell out of here, okay? I promise." Normally, fear of electrocution would be enough to keep her away, but she was too curious to turn back now. Not to mention that she had a vested personal interest in seeing this through.
Using the flashlight, they found the door that led to the main cabin, but it was sealed with a heavy padlock. "Locked," Seth said, turning back to Billy. Accidentally she shone the flashlight in his face, and he held his hand up to block the light. "Hey, put that down."
"Oh, sorry! Hmm. Well, let's break one of those windows," she suggested, motioning to the three glass portholes along the side of the cabin.
Tilting his head, he said, "We agreed—no damaging property."
"Oh, right... well, what about the lock? Can you break that?" Before Seth could be a goody-goody about that one, too, she said, "Come on, a rusty old lock doesn't constitute 'property.' "
"Okay, let me just find something," he said, taking the flashlight from her and shining it around until he found a thick iron shard lying on the deck. He bent to pick it up, then returned the flashlight to Billy, who was just taking it all in as rain beat her back and thunder shook her nerves. "Get back," he called.
Then he banged hard on the lock. Once, twice, three times, and it gave. Old and rusty, just like Ted's favorite bar—perfect. "You did it!" Billy said excitedly as Seth pulled the remnants of the shattered lock off of the latch and led the way into the cabin.
The interior of Ted's boat was the calm during the storm. Rattling thunder seemed far less ominous, and flashes of lightning were less daunting through small porthole windows.
"So where should we start?" Seth asked, plowing his fingers through his wet hair.
"I-I'm not sure," Billy replied through chattering teeth. Suddenly she became acutely aware of her sopping-wet blue jeans, which clung to her body, and her drenched, battered jacket that looked dark green instead of light. "I guess we should just look around and see if we can find something that will point us in the direction of Ted's girlfriend. Let's just hope there's something here that gives us a clue who she is." Along the wall was a long, deep shelf that held various supplies. Rope, first-aid kit, pocket knife, and—
"Fabulous!" Billy snatched a flashlight off the shelf. She flipped it on and flooded the space between she and Seth with even more light. "Here," she said, handing Ted's flashlight to Seth. "We can split up."
"Okay," he said, "but be careful."
As Seth looked around the main room, Billy ducked down another step to the blackened bedroom quarters. It was a bit claustrophobic, with a double bed that barely fit, and not much space to walk around. The mattress was thin, the sheets were rumpled, and the room smelled like a cross between halibut and mildew—or maybe halibut with mildew—but she was hardly an expert on fishy stenches.
Ted's girlfriend—whoever she was—h
ad been a good sport to go along with these accommodations.
Rain thumped rhythmically on the metallic roof of the boat, and thunder rumbled through the sky. "Have you found anything?" Billy called out as she reached over to the shelf beside Ted's bed and picked up a small leather-covered box. Then she sat down on the bed, hearing the springs squeak and snap.
"Just some fishing gear," Seth called back, "some hooch... a hunting magazine..."
"Oh, God!" Billy yelped, and tossed the box onto the bed the moment she realized its contents. A shudder ran through her, and Seth called out to her.
"Are you all right? What did you find?" he asked, coming to her.
"Hold me!" Billy said in a tinny little voice, coiling her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek into the wetness of his chest.
"What happened, sweetheart?" he asked gently.
"Nails," she mumbled.
"Huh?"
Inhaling a sharp breath, Billy said, "Apparently Ted kept his clipped finger and toenails in a box by his bed. And I touched them!"
With relief, Seth laughed. "Oh, man, you really had me worried for a second." He tightened his arms around her, and Billy couldn't resist snuggling into him for a few moments. "Hey, what's that?" he said suddenly, pulling out of her embrace and walking past her, toward the bed.
Billy turned and saw that the flashlight she'd carelessly tossed on the bed was casting light directly on a book. Seth reached over to pick it up and read the title aloud: "Puss in Boots."
His eyebrows quirked in silent question, and Billy shrugged. She leaned down to grab the flashlight, then held it over the book as Seth flipped it open. There was a yellow Post-it note stuck to the first page, with feminine handwriting scrawled across it. Meet me at TRC at nine-thirty, Billy read, thinking that TRC obviously stood for the Rusty Canoe. Then it clicked. "His girlfriend—oh, of course!"
Suddenly a loud crack of thunder, like an oak tree splitting down the middle, shattered the air and shook the boat. Billy jumped, and Seth plowed his hands through his hair. "Jesus."
"Oh, my God, we've gotta go," she said hurriedly, retracing their steps to the deck. "We've gotta get out of here before lightning strikes the boat!"