Turtle Tribbles

by Maggie Toussaint

  Wow. Such drama in this group of scientists. And here I thought the center looked so tranquil and reflective. Instead, everyone avoided the dragon so they didn’t get canned. “I had no idea. What else can you tell me about her?”

  “Besides being hard on her staff, she, uh, has a thing for men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The sheriff’s probably getting hit on right now.”

  I stiffened instinctively. Minnie Lee’s remark sounded unprofessional. My impression of her dropped several notches. But Ike – how would he handle her making a pass at him? He must be used to that by now. Surely he wouldn’t be tempted.

  Loving someone made you vulnerable. I’d never expected to revisit teenaged insecurities again when it came to guys, but that’s exactly how I felt right this second.

  But my insecurities were private. “I don’t think she’s his type.”

  “You never know. I saw what happened when Selma’s ex-boyfriend visited. Dr. J gave Ozzie her phone number.”

  My brain went nuts trying to fit these tidbits into a decision matrix. Sounded like Jen, Selma, and Ozzie were in a twisted love triangle. Did Jen fixate on Selma’s ex-boyfriend, and he turned her down because he wanted Selma?

  I wasn’t sure Minnie Lee was a credible source for island shenanigans. Sure, she was friendly, but she could have an ax to grind against her new boss for booting her off the island. On the other hand, Minnie Lee could’ve gotten rid of Selma for another chance at an island job. I needed another source for corroboration. Otherwise, this was merely juicy gossip.

  Either way, I needed to get us back on track. “I’m sorry to hear of the discord, but I’d rather we focus on the data set. Here’s what I know about Selma’s notetaking system.”

  I showed her my notes on what Selma had recorded in the logbook that Wednesday. It didn’t take Minnie Lee long to catch on to the coding system, which gave me second thoughts about her helplessness. Was she posing as a dummy? It seemed Selma’s death could be related to other island troubles.

  “I heard Selma’s gear is missing,” I began slowly once we’d deciphered Selma’s shorthand. “Will you show me where it was stored?”

  Minnie Lee nodded and gestured for me to accompany her to the maintenance barn. “Selma loved lilac. She put purple hearts on everything. Sometimes she used stickers, but most times she used nail polish. And she got to where she rarely used her shovel anymore. She was crazy about a little hand rake from a gardening set she brought over. Said it was better for checking the nests. We knew what items were hers because she made a big deal out of claiming them.”

  “Nail polish can easily be removed. So can stickers,” I said as we entered a big barn. Several mowers and tractors were slotted at the far end. Nearer to us were several utility vehicles in various stages of repair. A soldier-straight array of tools lined the back wall.

  “But that’s the thing. I know these people because I’ve been here for two summers,” Minnie Lee said. “They’re decent folks. No one would take Selma’s gear. There’s no need. See for yourself. We have plenty of rakes, shovels, and other hardware.”

  I stepped forward to inspect the long row of tools. Which one of these implements had blunt force trauma written all over it? Any of them could be lethal. Did Ike’s deputies swab every tool for Selma’s DNA? If so, what would that tell us? We had no way of knowing if Selma touched these items recently.

  Worse, if Minnie Lee was to be believed, Jen Jernigan was a tyrant of a boss and a man stealer. Minnie Lee, who landed Selma’s job, was back on the island where she wanted to be. As for Selma’s ex-boyfriend Ozzie, it wasn’t clear if he’d snuck on the island after Selma said no. On top of that, a host of other people worked here, people who regularly came and went on the island. And the turtle egg thief was still at large.

  Selma had been dead for five days, and we weren’t close to solving her murder. We had to do better.

  Chapter 8

  Ike and I were sitting at a seaside pavilion on the island eating a picnic lunch of my homemade chicken wraps and the fresh blueberries I’d picked at the berry farm. With the tide ebbing and the breeze dying down, the overhead covering provided little respite from the June heat. My clothes clung to me like plastic wrap, but my thoughts spun with the information Minnie Lee planted in my head.

  “Could Jen have been in a love triangle with Selma and Ozzie?” I asked Ike.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Why do you ask?”

  “As soon as you and Jen left the office, Minnie Lee ratted out her boss. She said Jen showed an interest in Selma’s ex-boyfriend.”

  “Jen seems like a woman with a more discriminating palette.”

  “She gave you her number, didn’t she?” Oops. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Didn’t want him to know I was channeling my teenaged self. Or that I had doubts about him.

  Ike stilled. He raised his eyes slowly to mine. “What if she did?”

  “I wouldn’t like that.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t like it if a guy gave you his number either.”

  He’d avoided answering the question. I chewed my lip to keep more insecurities from tumbling out. I knew he liked me. I knew he wanted us to move in together. I knew I loved him.

  “I wish you could say it,” I whispered to my plate.

  After a silence that went on forever and a few seconds, Ike answered. “You know what I wish? I wish you’d leave crime detection to me.”

  That he’d dismissed my wish so easily rankled. My retort came out hot. “Selma was getting proof for me to run a story. I owe her.”

  “These people aren’t what they seem. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but I will. Meanwhile, I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

  I popped out of my seat to pace the pavilion. “I don’t appreciate you telling me what to do. Crime investigation is like journalism. It involves asking a lot of questions to different people who are connected to the subject matter. Then it’s a matter of stringing the facts together into a plausible story.”

  “Except journalists don’t carry weapons for self-defense. Someone killed this young woman, Linds. I don’t want you in harm’s way.”

  “I’m careful. Besides, people like me. They open up to me.”

  “One of them is a killer.”

  “You don’t understand.” My voice cracked with emotion. “I need to do this.”

  “Where’s this coming from?” he asked, still sitting and eating. “Why are you upset?”

  I shrieked in frustration and hurried away from him. It was embarrassing to lose control like this. I’d just learned how to live again, after surviving a lonely existence in Atlanta. I wanted him to admit I could make a contribution. To admit I mattered. I didn’t want my wings clipped.

  He vaulted from his seat and crossed to me. “What’s really wrong?”

  The faster I blinked, the faster the tears flowed. I tried to answer, but words failed me. Miserable, I turned from him and let it out. Moments later, his arms encircled me, and he stroked my back. “Easy, gal. I’ve got ya.”

  Despite the heat, I nestled into the comfort he offered, needing him. Needing us to finally be honest with each other. He kept stroking my back, rubbing my shoulders, and making quieting sounds. Finally, the outburst quieted, and I felt like even more of a fool.

  Between sniffles, I thanked him. He lifted my chin and looked me square in the eye. “What’s this about?”

  I thought we were about enjoying each other’s company and committing to a future, but I wasn’t certain of his understanding of our relationship. “I need clarification. About us.”

  “I threw her number away.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’m dating you.”

  That was good, but it wasn’t enough. “Ike, why should I move in with you?”

  Despite the heat, his silence chilled me. I wished I could stuff the genie back in the bottle, but I’d asked the question. Now I had to live with his answer.

  “Don�
��t box me in a corner,” Ike said. “Annette did that, and I’ll never be another woman’s property again.”

  “Forget your ex-wife. I’m a different person, one whose life is based on words. I love you. Is the feeling mutual?”

  Ike raked his fingers through his hair. “I care for you. But the L-word. Annette flung it at me every time she wanted something.”

  A motor rumbled in the distance. Buzz was returning in the four-seater Gator. I didn’t have much time to say my piece.

  “You’re a good guy, Ike Harper, a guy I want to spend time with,” I said, laying my heart bare. “I think we have a future together, but I can’t move in with you without you saying those words. Our commitment level feels unbalanced.”

  His jaw clenched then his mouth flapped soundlessly, as if he was working the rust off his heart. I waited and waited some more.

  Footsteps on the deck planking brought me back to reality. We were on the island and no longer alone. Buzz was our ride to the ferry dock.

  “Y’all finished here?” Buzz asked cheerfully.

  I turned to Buzz. “I believe we are.” Quickly I stowed our lunch in the cooler, despite Ike scowling at me.

  Once again, Ike climbed in the backseat, and I had my choice of locations. I clambered in beside him, which I hoped he took as a show of support. But he didn’t reach for my hand, and I didn’t reach for his.

  My thoughts churned all the way to the boat. We’d reached an impasse. Would our relationship survive? From the stern set of Ike’s jaw, he wouldn’t change his stance. Past events had seared his heart. He had my empathy up to a point. I had to protect my heart too.

  I couldn’t bear to think of breaking up with Ike. To see him every day for the rest of my life and know we weren’t a couple. No killer had come after me on this trip, thanks to Ike’s presence. I risked a glance at him again. Tension radiated in unrelenting waves from his body, his spine rigid beside me in the vehicle.

  We’d come this far together. Was it the end of the line for us?

  Chapter 9

  “I need some time,” Ike said when he dropped me off at home. “Stay out of trouble.”

  Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded and let myself out of his Jeep. He’d been so quiet all the way back that I didn’t know what to think. “Stay out of trouble” didn’t mean he was dumping me. But still, I’d managed to stun him, and from his immediate withdrawal, I’d hit a nerve.

  One day passed without a word from him and then another.

  I kept busy so I didn’t obsess about Ike. I filled the newspaper with fresh copy, kept the house clean. The shower grout sparkled, the silver service gleamed. At some point, I should move out of my parents’ house on River Road, but they were divorced and headed in different directions. Mama to seminary, and Daddy on cruises with his lady friend Trish.

  Right now, it suited everyone for me to housesit until they decided what to do with this place. But I kept thinking about the property Daddy set aside for me at mid-county. I’d recently paid to have that lot bush hogged and had several pines removed. If I built there, Ike couldn’t easily cruise by my house to see if I was home.

  I didn’t like this separation at all. I picked up the phone almost hourly that first day to call him. But he needed time. I loved him enough to give him the time he needed.

  ~*~

  “He’s acting like a jerk,” Cousin Janey said the following Thursday evening. “You should hand Ike his walking papers.”

  At Janey’s arrival, I’d stopped trimming, weeding, and edging everything in the yard and offered her a Chardonnay. We sat on the front porch steps. “I don’t own him. His ex-wife tore his heart out and stomped on it.”

  “Patsy from the salon has been over at the jail every day since y’all broke up.”

  Irritation flashed. “We didn’t breakup. We had a discussion, and he said he needed time.”

  “Still. His truck isn’t here in the mornings. His sister spends her evenings with Jimmy at the bar. People know there’s a rift between you.”

  “Ike and I will be fine,” I insisted. “I have to believe he misses me as much as I miss him.”

  Janie let those words die in the breeze. “Are you going to the bonfire kickoff of the festival tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “He’ll be there.”

  “So what?” I frowned at my sharp tone. “I’m not chasing after Ike. If that’s what he expects, forget it. Enough about me. What’s this I hear about you and the bail bondsman?”

  “Junior Curtis is an interesting man.” Janey smiled and sipped her wine. “I’ve shown him property all over the county, but he hasn’t decided on a location.”

  “By my count, y’all have had four lunch dates.”

  “Now who’s listening to the county grapevine?”

  “I’m delighted for you, but what about his alleged mob ties?”

  Her lips quirked. “Not true.”

  “But the limos from Florida?”

  “That’s a secret, but he isn’t dirty. He’s actually a nice guy.”

  “He kissed you yet?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You like it?”

  “Maybe.”

  My cousin glowed like the fireflies on the lawn. Whatever Junior Curtis was, he was good for her. “Be careful.”

  “I will. And I asked him to snoop around in your Turtle Girl case because he has friends in low places. He didn’t want to at first, for fear of crossing Ike, but he says there’s a network of captains who routinely take charters to the island and keep the passage off the books.”

  I hefted my wine glass, noticed it was empty, and set it down. “Why would they do that?”

  “Income declaration on their end and privacy of the charter clients.”

  Secrets. That was progress. “What did he find out?”

  “First is that head honcho woman. Dr. Jen Jernigan. She uses a certain retired fisherman exclusively to run her back and forth to the island. You may have seen his shrimp peddling truck all over the county. Junior says she pays for his services in a nontraditional way.”

  Janie’s crude hand gesture clued me in. The guy was twice our age and more than twice Jen’s weight. I did not need that image in my head. “Too much information.”

  “Also, the victim’s ex-boyfriend uses the same skipper for secret trips to the island. Junior says Ozzie has made regular visits since mid-May. He usually rides over late Friday and returns early Saturday morning.”

  Interesting, but was it relevant? “What about the turtle egg thief?”

  “Junior couldn’t get any traction on that. Folks are close-mouthed about this person, though it seems a certain segment of the population knows what’s going on.”

  Dusk thickened, but my thoughts centered on the new data. “How so?”

  “I believe he’s selling them turtle eggs.”

  It was a guy! Junior was amazing. I only hoped Janey wasn’t trading sex with Junior for information. “We should follow him around.”

  Janey shook her head. “Probably not a good idea. Junior already went to Ike with his suspicions on the turtle egg guy.”

  “We don’t know if the turtle egg thief and the killer are the same person. Those clandestine trips to the island intrigue me. We could stake out the charter captain. That would be easy. He docks at mid-county, and my lot there has a good vantage point of the docks.”

  “Bad idea. Didn’t Ike tell you to butt out of his investigations?”

  “You know what?” I vaulted to my feet. “I’m flippin’ tired of waiting for Ike Harper to make up his mind. I need to take action. And I have Bailey. She’ll protect me. The weekend’s coming, and I’ll bet the secret travel network will be hopping.”

  Janey downed the rest of her wine. “No way are you taking this spy adventure alone. I’m coming too.”

  “What about your daughter?”

  “She’s on vacation in Florida with her other grandparents. I’m free as a bird.”

  My eyebrows arched.
“And you want to spend your time with me instead of the hunky bail bondsman?”

  “He shouldn’t think I’m on speed dial to answer his every call.”

  “Thatta girl. Now who has a tent we can borrow for tomorrow night?”

  “I’ll ask Junior.”

  Chapter 10

  With Junior’s help, the tent went up quickly. The campsite was soon ready for our stakeout, but I had no idea how the tiny portable stovetop worked. Junior provided it, saying it was a bad idea for us to have an open fire if we were spying on the dock.

  I tried not to ogle Cousin Janey and Junior as he said goodbye. Pretending to inspect the stove, I had a clear shot of them in my peripheral vision. From the way Junior crowded her close to his SUV, the way she let him smooth her hair back from her shoulder, I was pretty certain the attraction between them worked both ways. Funny though, last fall when we were dealing with Junior for Daddy’s bail, Janey wanted nothing to do with this man. She wouldn’t even step foot in his bail bonds office.

  The tide had turned, that was for danged sure.

  My cousin returned before I figured out how the little camp stove worked. Her light and ready smile spoke volumes. “Don’t say a word,” she cautioned.

  “Can’t help it. You and Junior are an item.”

  “We are. Which is why I arranged for my daughter to be away. Then I got cold feet and glommed onto your stakeout. Junior knows I chickened out. I like him. But I don’t know nearly enough about him. At my age, it can’t just be about attraction. I need to know if he has a criminal record, or if he’s still sleeping with Angie out at The Oaks Motel.”

  “Have you asked him about Angie?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You’re usually direct.”

  “With you. But not with men. I’ve had guys show an interest in me since the divorce. There’s something about our crazy relative lineage that positively excites men. It’s like they believe we’re tornados in the sack or something. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I’m a plain jane with an average amount of passion.”