Olivia sighed. “All right, so maybe I’ve been poking around a bit, but I don’t see the harm in it. I’m not actively investigating, and even if I was, what—” She cut off and froze, a frown creasing her brow.
“What is it?” Jake asked.
“What did you say these boat tours were called?”
“I didn’t,” Jake replied. “Sebby was the one who organized this morning’s activities. I think he’s keen to get out on the open water and have some fun. You know what college kids are like. I suppose he’d prefer a party to everything else we’ve done so far on our trip. Why do you ask?”
Olivia nodded toward the cramped silver box which served as the reception building, just beside a gated portion of the dock. A window glimmered in the metal, the morning glare too bright to see inside, but the lettering on the chrome was clear enough to read.
Gomez Boating Tours – Explore the Keys at Your Leisure!
Jake grunted. “Gomez,” he said. “You want to tell me what happened yesterday in the restaurant? You know, when you almost toppled over then sprinted back to the table like you’d seen a real ghost?”
“Sprinted, pah.” Olivia threw out a quick laugh. “I haven’t sprinted in years. I’m past forty.”
“Yes, I forgot how the legs cease to work after thirty nine. Shall I get you a wheelchair?”
“It’s not that I can’t sprint, just that it’s not my style.” Chocolates were her style. Chocolates and light walking with Dodger – he gave her more than enough exercise. “Anyway, we’re getting wildly off-topic. Let me fill you in.”
They hung back as the others milled around outside the reception “box,” and Sebby went inside to organize their tour. Olivia filled Jake in on what she’d overheard, and, for the first time since the murder, his eyes lit up with that same intrigue he always displayed back in Chester.
She had him now, all right. Jake Morgan was on the case.
“She actually said that?” he asked.
“Yes. Highly doubtful that the bubbling filter in that aquarium mangled her words,” Olivia said. “Unless you’re suggesting I hear as well as I sprint.”
“I would never.” Jake squeezed her fingers. “And you sprint just fine. You just don’t want to. Unless you’re being chased by a homicidal maniac, of course.”
“Of course.”
Sebby appeared in the doorway, followed by a guy in a snappy uniform – white shorts and a matching shirt with an aquamarine stripe across the chest. Just above it, the tour logo sat against his breast. The guy was so tanned he’d reached walnut status, and his blonde hair had been bleached by the sun.
He was probably in his fifties, that or in his forties and the sun had aged him. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Craig and I’ll be your tour guide this sunny Florida morning. If you’ll follow me, we can set off on our journey,” he said and flashed teeth so white they should’ve rightfully blinded.
The crowd followed, Alphonsine and Alvira tittering to each other while Alberta lectured Dodger about behaving on the boat, him appearing sufficiently cowed.
Finally, the gate was opened and they creaked down the docks and onto a boat which easily kept the seven humans and the one dog. Everyone was settled and the boat set off with their host behind the wheel.
Olivia chewed her lip and sipped on a soda which’d been doled out from a fully stocked bar below deck. Everyone was happy, their faces turned to the sun, the wind whipping hair back, Dodger’s fluffy ears flopping along too. The Keys were breathtaking, and the beauty wasn’t lost on Olivia, but she had other concerns.
She got up, found her sea legs, then tottered over to the front and perched on the seat closest to the wheel and Craig, their guide. “Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied. “Olivia, right?”
They’d managed a few introductions shortly after they’d scuttled on board.
“That’s right. This is lovely,” she said. “You must love working here, right?”
A tiny frown flickered across his face, and he tipped his sunglasses down to shield his face. The smile swam into place. “Yes, it’s the best experience I’ve had in my life, now’s I think about it. Working in the Keys is food for the soul. The nature out here is unbelievable, and it’s nice to get to know new people every day.”
“And you like the Gomezes?” Olivia prompted.
He didn’t say a word but focused on their path through the waters near islands and stretches of sand.
“Sorry, I’m not trying to pry,” she said and took a sip of her soda. “I just happen to be friends with the Gomezes and I was concerned about them, that’s all.”
“Concerned? Why?”
“Well, I don’t know if you heard, but there was a murder near here the other night, and Belinda and George just happened to be there. I was too. It was pretty horrible. Ugh, thinking about it gives me the shakes.”
Craig nodded briskly. “I heard. And if it makes you sick to think about it, then you shouldn’t.”
“Quite right, quite right, it’s just – well, I haven’t heard from either Belinda or George since it’s happened and I’m just worried, that’s all. Have you seen either of them over the course of the past day or two?” Was the questioning too formal?
Craig was quiet for a long time, the only sounds were the engine, the muted chatter from the others at the stern of the boat, and the water lapping against the hull. “Yes, they’re fine,” he said. “I see Belinda every day – she takes people out on tours too. In fact, she’s probably on the water right now. If you’d arrived a half hour earlier, you would’ve gotten her as your tour guide.”
“Oh, well that’s good news.” Olivia slurped some soda again. She searched for a way to bring up the victim, scouring her mind.
“You’re good friends with her?” Craig asked.
“Good enough,” Olivia replied.
“Then you should probably call her up, she’s – well, shoot, you’ll know then that the guy that was killed, that dirty dude with the scraggly, scarecrow hair, came around here to see her quite often. I’m sure she’ll have told you. Not sure what kinda relationship they had, but it must’ve been something close to friendship, poor sucker.”
“Yeah,” Olivia replied. Guilt swirled through her belly at the lie, but the excitement of yet another clue quashed it quick as a flash. The only issue with lying about it was now she couldn’t ask the guy what he’d seen without being caught out. “That’s why I was worried she took it hard.”
“Well, I’ll tell her that you wanted to know how she was doing. Tell her to give you a call,” Craig said. “Would that work for ya?”
Oh heavens, no, that wouldn’t work for her. Then Belinda would know Olivia had been snooping around asking questions, and that she’d lied about how well they were acquainted. She cast around for a way out and latched onto her excuse. “No, that’s quite all right. I really don’t want to crowd her too much. I’ll pop by tomorrow again and see if she’s available for a chat. I don’t want to pressure her after what happened, you know? She needs her space. I think we all do after this.”
“Death’s a bad business, all right,” Craig said as the sun caught the lenses of his glasses so they became opaque; the devilish look in the eyes behind them was plain. “A bad business.”
For once, Olivia wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. A bad business? Did that mean business was involved in the murder? Or that Craig knew more than he let on?
Olivia scanned the ocean and the gorgeous blue waters, but none of it put her mind at ease.
If she didn’t find out how the Gomezes were involved in this murder, she’d surely go crazy.
The information, the truth, was right at her fingertips, if she could just reach out and grasp it before it slipped away.
Chapter 8
The boat tour had been a lovely treat, and the chocolates they’d munched on afterward had been even better. They’d already planned on hiring out a little cooking school’s kitchen to make some chocolates later in
the week, and dinner, man, Olivia hadn’t ever tasted lobster that succulent or that tasty in years. Not since she’d gone down to Maine for a festival.
Now? Well, now, the nigh stretched ahead of her and she perched on the edge of her queen-sized bed in her personal resort room, Dodger at the end of her bed. Everyone had retired to their rooms – the three A’s had opted to stay in a shared one, simply because they were the best of friends, by now, almost sisters, though their ages varied widely.
Jake was pooped – Olivia could make out the throaty rumble of his snores from next door. And Sebby had made friends with some girl down by the pool that evening and had opted to spend the evening chatting with her at the cabana.
“Now, it’s just you and me, Dodgy. You and me, or is it you and I?” Olivia asked.
The doggy lurched upward with a whine and trotted over to her. He lay down on her feet and puffed his lips.
“Tired? Or just hot?” Olivia asked.
He thumped his tail against the rug in response.
“Well,” Olivia muttered, “this is hardly a pickle, but it’s hardly a pudding either. I’m desperate for something to keep my mind occupied, or rather, some time to think about everything that’s happened. What about you?”
More tail thumping.
“How’s about a walk?”
The tail thumping warped to light speed.
“Good. Fetch me your leash and we’ll get out of here, Dodgy dear.”
He scrambled up, this time with oodles of enthusiasm, and trotted to the door where she’d hung his leash on one of the handy hooks on its face. The doggy gripped the end of the leash in his teeth, almost gingerly, then backed up, still wagging his golden tail. The length of nylon popped off the hook and he ran it over to Olivia, triumph in his every paw-step.
“That’s my boy.” Olivia took it from him and ruffled the soft, velvety fur between his ears. “Thank you, Dodgy.”
They made quick work of getting the notoriously excitable pup into his leash, then Olivia got up and they walked over to the glass sliding door which let out onto the pool and cabana area.
It’d taken quite some research to find a pet-friendly place in the Keys, one that had enough space for their party of six and a pup, but it’d been worth it. There were other dogs here too, and some of them were out with their owners for a stroll in the garden, now. They all greeted Dodger, wagging and sniffing.
Olivia led her doggo to the exit, and they came out onto the street, which was adjacent to the ocean on its far side. They walked along, Dodger’s paws padding, his nails clicking on the ‘crete, and Olivia’s gaze on the stars above, the gibbous moon.
Why would Belinda have hung around with Joseph? Two of the guests now had a tenuous connection to the murder in her mind, and Karen? She might not have known Joseph, but the way she’d spoken in the Keys Bar and Grill the other day had awakened suspicion in Olivia’s mind.
In Jake’s too. That had to mean something, right?
Olivia let her feet take her wherever they wanted, but the direction was pretty obvious from the start – she was headed toward the Gomez’s Boating Tours building.
She wouldn’t break in, no, of course not – she wasn’t that crazy! But where was the harm in having a look around? If Joseph had been seen there a few days before his death, it was worth some investigation. Or just contemplation.
Perhaps she’d wind up realizing something just from hanging around outside it.
“Now, that’s some mental arithmetic. Goodness, I have to stop trying to fool myself. I’m investigating this and that’s the bottom line,” Olivia said.
Dodger thwacked his tail against her leg a few times.
“And there’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Is there, Dodger?” She paused and stroked his back again.
Olivia had been consumed with the need to investigate ever since that first murder. Perhaps it was because she’d experienced so many lies in her life, in losing a husband who’d loved her at first, then promptly picked up and left.
A part of her had an emptiness that needed filling, and every case she helped solve patched it up a little bit. Was that so wrong?
“Probably,” she muttered and set off walking again.
Olivia put the soul-searching out of mind and focused on the walk, the night, the silence in the streets but for the distant twirl of music on the air and an occasional burst of laughter from a home she passed.
Finally, they neared the dock and the Boating Tours building.
Olivia faltered, eyes wide. “The lights are still on, Dodgy,” she whispered and held her watch up to the light of a lamppost and squinted. “Past ten at night and the place is still lit up like a Christmas tree. Why would that be, do you think?”
Dodger didn’t reply, for once keeping his silence. She appreciated that about him. It was as if he knew when to be silent, when not to make their presence known. Dodger had fast become one of her favorite investigating buddies. He’d helped her in cases previously.
Olivia shrank back into the shadows off the sidewalk and drew closer to the chromed out box building, keeping perpendicular to the road.
They stopped opposite it, hidden by the darkness outside of the penumbra surrounding a pool of light beneath one of the streetlamps.
“There,” Olivia said. “Oh, there’s nothing going on. Maybe they just keep their lights on at night for security purposes.” Which kind of made sense and didn’t at once – it wasn’t as if they had any physical items to steal, apart from the boat that was behind the gated section of the dock.
Olivia kept her eyes wide in the dark, then shrugged. “Ah, well, I guess that’s—”
Belinda strode into view in the brightly lit window and Olivia clicked her teeth together, silencing her whisper. Belinda’s mousy brown hair was a mess, greasy, stringy even, and her cheeks were ruddy. Dark rings dominated the space beneath her eyes.
She was a pretty woman on the edge, pretty but plain. In a strange sense, her distress relieved Olivia – perhaps that meant she’d truly cared about Joseph. It didn’t exonerate her, however.
Belinda lifted a handbag from the back of a chair and slung the strap over her shoulder, then took two steps forward.
George appeared, placed a hand on her arm and stopped her. His face was contorted with anger, reddened and wrinkled, nothing like the charm he’d exuded at the dinner crawl the other evening.
“Goodness,” Olivia whispered.
George said something, or shouted it – she couldn’t make it out – and Belinda jerked back and spat a reply. The argument grew heated and fear curdled in Olivia’s belly. Goodness, was she about to witness another murder?
Please no, not like this. One investigation a week is enough.
George picked up a manila folder off the table and tossed it to one side. Papers fluttered to the floor. He spun on his heel and marched for the exit, then flung the door open and stormed out into the street, grumbling under his breath. Belinda remained behind, tears streaming down her cheeks, her head bowed.
“Idiot,” George grunted and crossed the street toward, well, right toward Olivia and Dodger. “Why can’t she see—?” He halted in the middle of the street and squinted into the dark, right at the spot where Olivia and Dodger stood.
They didn’t dare move. They didn’t dare breathe. Thankfully, she’d worn her black jacket.
Dodger let out a thunderous bark.
I take it all back. I take back the part about him never barking when it’s important. Oh heavens!
“Who’s that?!” George charged toward them and Dodger went absolutely mad.
He jerked onto the end of his leash and barked like crazy, growling at George the minute he came near the vignette of light beneath the lamppost.
“Dodgy, stop,” Olivia said and tugged lightly on the leash. “Dodger, stop that, right this minute!”
The dog finally calmed himself, but the damage had already been done.
“You,” George said. “I know you! You’re that
woman who was at the dinner the other night. You’re—” He clicked his fingers as if the name was on the tip of his tongue, yet evaded him.
“Olivia,” she managed. “I was just taking a walk with my dog. How are you this evening, Mr. Gomez?” Gosh, pity it’d come out a little squeak. That wasn’t suspicious at all.
“A walk? You just so happen to be taking a walk at this time of night? Here? Right outside my business? Please, how dumb do you think I am? You’re snooping.”
“Why on earth would I snoop?” Olivia asked. “What would I have to snoop about?”
“I know you were here earlier. I saw you go out on one of our boats and Craig told me you were asking weird questions about Belinda.” The man stomped closer and Dodger released a tight growl, the hair on his back rising at the threat. George put up his hands, but the anger in him hadn’t dissipated. “You’re a sneak and I’m not going to stand for it. You were at the house when it happened. You were – you are a suspect. I’m calling the cops.”
“There’s no need to do that,” Olivia said. “We were just going for a walk and we’re going to keep on walking, all right?”
“No, it’s not all right,” George replied. “Stay right there!” He spun on his heel and jogged back toward the front of the Boating Tours building. If ever there was a time to high-tail it outta here, this was it.
“Quick, Dodgy. Run!”
They took off, shouts following down the streets, and turned a corner, losing themselves in the streets which would hopefully lead them back to the resort.
This was definitely a pickle. A juicy one, and Olivia was about to take a massive bite of it.
Chapter 9
“Are you sure about this?” Jake asked. “I feel terrible leaving you behind, darlin’. Alberta chose the place – apparently, they have the best brunch you’ll ever eat. Croissants, bagels, cream cheese, scrambled eggs, fried or poached, and bacon. And ham! I’m sure there are sweet options too.”
Death Over Spilt Chowder Page 4