Death Over Spilt Chowder

by Wendy Meadows

  “Really, I’d much rather stay here for now. Dodger and I are tired,” Olivia said and lay back in her bed, the covers tucked under her chin. Light penetrated the lavender curtains shielding the glass doors which let out onto her personal patio and the pool and cabana area.

  “Tired? Why? We went to bed so early last night.”

  “Well, we went for a late night stroll and then a bit of a jog.”

  “A jog! I thought you didn’t do running,” Jake replied.

  “I never said I don’t do running, just sprinting is not my forte. Anyways, I’ll only be totally boring at breakfast, yawning all the time. You go ahead and enjoy yourselves, for heaven’s sake. We’re here to have fun, after all.”

  Jake sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders under his loose shirt. “I suppose. Oh well, if you insist. You get some rest, Olivia, we’ll talk later.”

  “Thanks, Rog.”

  He left then, clicking the bedroom door closed behind him, ever so gently, and Olivia counted to twenty. She flung back the covers and slipped out of bed, fully dressed, down to the shoes.

  “Ready, Dodgy?” she asked, excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach, spiting the nerves which threatened to take over. “We’re going on another adventure, and this one will probably be even more dangerous than the last.”

  Dodger perked up in his corner and ran to get his leash.

  Ten minutes later, they were out the back gate, which let out of the resort and onto the street, and were heading in the opposite direction of the Boating Tours.

  Last night, they’d run all the way back to the resort, and Olivia had been convinced that a cop cruiser would swing around the corner any minute. But it hadn’t. The streets had remained relatively quiet – no sirens, at least. Had George actually called the police? Or had he given it up as a bad job when they’d gotten away?

  Regardless of what’d gone down, Olivia wouldn’t be pigeonholed again. She’d go directly down to the station today and talk to Newman herself.

  “It’s simple,” she said to Dodger as they walked. “We’ll present ourselves to him and tell him everything we know. We’ll say we don’t want to get involved in the case, naturally, but that some information came to our attention while we were out and about.”

  Dodgy whimpered.

  “What are you worried about?” Olivia asked and flicked his leash lightly on his back. “It’s not like there’s a doggy prison. If anyone’s in trouble, it’s me.”

  Still, there was a definite droop to her doggy dearest’s ears – perhaps he thought she’d get in trouble and he’d be left on the sidewalk, hungry for a lunch he probably shouldn’t have. After all, Dodger had picked up a bit of weight since they’d come on holiday. Florida food was damn good, and Sebby had fattened him up with steak leftovers.

  They turned the corner and slowed as they approached the police station, its glass doors and the proud insignia on the front.

  “This is it,” Olivia whispered.

  Dodger whined again.

  “Oh, come on, doggo. You know, it will be fine. It always works out fine in the end, doesn’t it?” He gave her a look that carried far too much doubt for a Labrador. She bent and fluffed his ears, pecked him right between his eyes where snout met furry forehead. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

  They halted in front of the police station and Olivia squared her shoulders, turned her face to the warm sun basking the Keys in its golden rays, and nodded once. It would be a good day.

  Detective Newman would appreciate any information she had to give.

  She took a step toward the door, but the glass swung outward before she could reach it.

  Karen Gillen stepped out onto the sidewalk, her face pale and blotchy, redness spreading down her throat. She sniffled and hurried forward, but Olivia was too shocked to say a word.

  Or move out of the way.

  Karen whacked right into her, slammed her elbow into Olivia’s tote, and yelped. “Oh!”

  Dodger let out a warning bark and tugged on the end of his leash, then Olivia stumbled. “Sorry,” she managed. “Are you all right?”

  Karen backed up a step – thankfully, she hadn’t fallen either – and rubbed her elbow. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’m fine.” But tears streaked her cheeks, and she blotted them with the backs of her hands. “I mean, as fine as I can be given the cursed situation. I can’t believe I—” Her teary eyes focused on Olivia properly for the first time and she narrowed them. “Olivia, right?”

  “That’s right,” she said and stuck out her hand for a shake.

  Karen took it and gave it a wiggle. “Hi. Sorry, I’m not in the mood for a chat. I need to leave. I—”

  Olivia looked past her to the police station. “What did he say to you?” she asked. “Newman, I mean. He was pretty tough on me when I had my interview with him.”

  Karen shrugged. “Nothing,” she said, her voice warbled. She fished a crumpled Kleenex out of her pocket and pressed it to the tip of her pale nose. “Nothing at all. He – oh my goodness, I can’t help it. This is a disaster.”

  “What is?” Olivia asked. “Was there another accident?”

  “I – I – I just can’t believe that they think I’m the one who did this. I didn’t even know that drifter creature. I didn’t know anything. And now, and now—” Karen let out a wail and Dodger matched it with a howl of his own. “Why does all the bad stuff always happen to me? What have I done to deserve this? I’m a good person. A great person. I give to all those charities, haven’t you heard?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, that’s just ridiculous. This entire murder case is a charade. I shouldn’t even be in the Keys at this time of year.”

  Olivia waited for her anger to peter off, then tapped the woman on her forearm. “Are you saying they think you did this to Joseph?”

  “Who’s Joseph?”

  “The drifter.”

  “Oh right, right. Yes! Can you believe that? Apparently, the note they found on his body was from me. From me! And I didn’t write anything to him. I didn’t even know him, for heaven’s sake. They showed it to me and—” She cut off and swallowed a sob, straightened her spine, and checked her watch. “I – I have to go. I shouldn’t even be talking about this. I just – I can’t believe this would happen to me.”

  And with that, the socialite toddled off, shaking her blonde locks, muttering and tugging on the silver chain around her neck. Her high heels clicked on the concrete.

  Olivia stared after her, the cogs whirring in her brain.

  “Never mind Newman, Dodgy. We’ve got a new lead to follow.”

  The dog whined again. Even a meeting with a police officer was better than a new lead. It could only mean trouble.

  Chapter 10

  Olivia followed her suspect at a distance, her grip tight on Dodger’s leash. She stopped whenever Karen stopped, darted behind trees or benches, and hovered in front of stores when necessary.

  “Where is she going?” Olivia muttered. The way Karen had checked her watch had been suspicious, to say the least, and this new information about the note which’d been found on Joseph’s body disturbed her.

  Dodgy kept his peace, trotting along quietly down the Floridian streets, past stores and eventually the beachfront. They took a left and a right, the sun beating down on the back of Olivia’s neck and on Dodger’s tawny fur, but still the socialite didn’t stop.

  She did, however, glance back down the street – thankfully, Olivia had managed to dart behind a tree or a bus stop on each occasion.

  But before long, Karen turned off down a familiar road. One which led directly to the Garden Club. She hurried down the winding drive, tugging at her necklace, then disappeared into the lobby.

  Olivia didn’t follow her in, but stepped under the shade of one of the nearest trees instead. Insects hummed in the grass, and Dodger flopped down with a whine and buried his nose in his paws.

  “Oh, don’t be such a drama dog,” she whispered.
“If I hadn’t brought you out for the walk, I’d have been able to follow her in there.” Olivia narrowed her eyes at the front of the club, at its glass doors and the posters tacked up in the windows purporting the latest and greatest events being held in the garden or nearby.

  A fireworks show and an upcoming lobster cook-off. Hmm, wouldn’t that be delicious? But she wasn’t here for lobster, or fireworks – at least not in the traditional sense. If she could get a little closer, perhaps she’d catch a peek of what Karen was up to in there.

  As far as Olivia could recall, there was a small restaurant inside with a…terrace! Of course, she could circle around and check that out. Perhaps figure out what Karen was up to, if it wasn’t just hanging around at the club.

  Olivia stepped forward, but Dodgy didn’t budge, not even to wag his tail at her. He gave her a doleful look instead.

  “Come on, dawg, we hardly did any walking. We’ve got to—”

  The front doors of the garden club’s main building flew outward and Karen stumbled out onto the stone steps, clutching her pearls so tight her knuckles had whitened.

  Olivia took a hasty step back into the shade and didn’t move more than that.

  “Are you insane?” A man’s voice followed her, and then Albert himself. His bald pate glistened with sweat and his work clothing was clean this time – no grass stains in sight. “Did you really think I’d allow you to come back here? You’re all over the newspapers. So am I. If we’re seen together now—”

  “You’re not in half as much trouble as I am,” Karen said. “They found some note on the drifter’s body. And they say it’s from me. My handwriting. This is – come on, Albert. I know we haven’t known each other long, but this is the only place we can meet safely without people finding out.”

  “No.” He folded chubby arms across his chest.

  “But you never had a problem with it before. You – you were happy to help me out.”

  “Well, things have changed.”

  “Because of the drifter?” Karen asked and brushed shaking fingers across her forehead.

  “Not just that,” Albert said. “I know, Karen. I’m not an idiot. I know you did it.”

  “What?!” Karen tottered back on her high heels. “Have you lost your mind? How dare you accuse me of – you know nothing. You know nothing about me.”

  “I know you stole my knife.” Albert’s growl carried down the steps and right to the trees.

  Dodgy matched it with a low one of his own in his throat. Olivia bent slowly and placated him with a pat. “It’s almost time to leave, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Just a few seconds more.”

  Karen was still trapped in a mental breakdown, apparently. She trembled, and her mouth worked, her teeth clicked together and fell apart again. She pointed at Albert, who narrowed his eyes at her in turn.

  “I know you stole my knife and you used it to murder him. You wanted to frame me for this. All I can’t figure out is why you’d want to kill the man when you barely knew him, unless I count that time – yes, wait, that’s it! I remember now.”

  Karen shook her head, mute, horrified. “No, I—”

  “You ran into him on the terrace. He came up to the back doors and you freaked out because he got in the way of your sunlight or something and threatened him. I remember! That was before you and that buddy of yours broke into my office and stole my knife. You’re done, Gillen. You’re done. I’m going to tell Detective Newman all your sordid secrets, right now.” Albert spun on the heel of his thick work boot and stormed back into the main building.

  Karen choked out one more “no” then ran in after him.

  “Well,” Olivia breathed at last. “Well, that was interesting.”

  Dodger heaved himself to his paws. Apparently, it was time to go. For once, Olivia couldn’t have agreed more.

  Chapter 11

  Olivia sat on the lover’s seat in her hotel bedroom and slurped on the end of her straw – chocolate milkshake, thick and icy. It was hotter than the hottest day in Chester out there, with the kind of humidity that no amount of toweling could alleviate. Heavens, it was as if she was in a perpetual state of post-shower moistness, and the air-conditioning unit humming and clicking away above her head didn’t do diddly nutso to alleviate her discomfort.

  Dodger was outside on the tiny wooden porch which let out onto the pool, basking in the shade rather than the sun. The dog was insane. How he could handle it out there with that fur was beyond reason.

  Olivia shifted to call him in, but a knock at her hotel room door stalled her. “Who’s there?” she yelled.

  “Room service,” Jake replied. “And me too. Did you order a burger and fries?”

  “Maybe,” Olivia said and slipped off the sofa. She hurried to the door and let in a fancy-schmancy dressed waiter with a silver domed tray and Jake himself. The smells which drifted from underneath that cover made her mouth water right up.

  “Your order, ma’am,” the waiter said.

  Olivia fumbled around in the pockets of her cotton shorts, but Jake beat her to it, tipping the man with a couple bills more than she had on her. The waiter left them, and Olivia unmasked the food.

  A towering cheeseburger with relish and bacon and oh heavens, she could hardly contain herself. “Fries,” she said. “I haven’t eaten since this morning.” She’d ordered a milkshake the minute she’d got in from the scene at the garden club, but the burger only later, once the mental reasoning had worn a hole through her head and her stomach.

  “They smell great,” Jake replied.

  “Have some. I’ll never finish them all on my own.” Olivia carried the tray to the coffee table and set it down beside the copies of tropical magazines featuring fun resort and Keys-related activities. Everything in this place was an advert for something else.

  Olivia tucked into her burger, totally shameless in the face of the hunger gnawing at her stomach lining.

  Jake munched on chips, thoughtful, studying Dodger’s outline through the gauzy curtain which hung in front of the glass doors to the porch. “Where were you this morning?” he asked between bites. “I knocked but there wasn’t an answer, and don’t you dare lie and say you were sleeping in Olivia Cloud. I know you better than that.”

  He did. Owning the Choc-A-Block Shoppe had ingrained that early rising habit right into her. She despised waking up at the crack of dawn, but she did it, regardless. “Hmph.” That was all she could manage around a mouthful of sesame-studded roll, tender beefy patty, melted, tangy cheese and the crunch of bacon. Divine.

  Jake hoovered another five fries, but kept his gaze fixed on her. “Spill it,” he said.

  Olivia swallowed, paused and considered it. She wouldn’t lie to him. Jake had helped her out on too many cases already. If she trusted anyone – apart from the ever-loyal and somewhat lazy Dodger – it was him.

  She gave Jake the abridged version of today’s events, then waited.

  Her friend, her boyfriend, technically, mulled all of it over in silence, chewing fries instead of making comment. “Well,” he said, at last. “The plot thickens. Albert Reed believes Karen is the murderer because of the theft of some knife.”

  “He accused her of stealing it. Her and a buddy, whoever that might be,” Olivia said, “but it didn’t sound to me like he had any solid evidence that she’d actually stolen it. It was an accusation, and Karen totally froze up. In truth, it makes me suspect her even more, especially after what I heard in the restaurant the day after Joseph’s murder.” She reminded him of that conversation just as briefly.

  Jake licked the salt off his fingertips and didn’t say a word. Truthfully, he didn’t have to.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Olivia said, “that I shouldn’t get involved, but there’s something here, Jake, and I can’t walk away from it now. Karen was tense today, entirely different from the day after the murder, and I’m sure Albert’s hiding something too. I just wish we knew more about Joseph. More about who he was and how he was actually
connected to all these people.”

  “That is the first step,” Jake muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “In any investigation, it’s got to be the first step. Knowing who the victim was is how you make connections to who could’ve murdered them. Not that I’m saying we should—”

  “So,” Olivia said, cutting right across him before he could rob her of the opportunity to convince him further, “so, if we knew more about Joseph, we could make better deductions about the people who might’ve been out to get him.”

  “Correct, but—”

  “And we know one person who did connect quite closely with Joseph before his death.”

  Jake’s brow wrinkled up, his complaints forgotten. “We do?”

  “Of course, we do.” Olivia’s slow smile had nothing to do with her full belly. “Come with me and I’ll show you exactly who I’m talking about.”

  Chapter 12

  Gomez Boating Tours – Explore the Keys at Your Leisure!

  The lettering was too jaunty for Olivia’s tastes, particularly on a day as humid as today. Jake stood beside her, his hands on his hips, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as if he’d come across a tough problem to solve. They hadn’t managed to convince Dodger to come along – he was determined to laze on the porch, likely until sundown.

  “I’ve never been this hot,” Olivia muttered. “Or this intrigued. What are we waiting for?”

  “Nothing, nothing. I just think it’s strange that there’s no one out on the water today,” Jake replied and nodded to the dock beyond, where boats bobbed in the water. “It seems like the perfect weather for a boat trip.”

  Olivia couldn’t agree with that. It seemed like perfectly horrendous weather for any type of outdoor activity. She set off toward the front of the chromed out building, swiping sweat from her brow.

  She knocked once on the front door, then entered.

  The interior of the boating tours building wasn’t particularly messy or orderly. It was nondescript. An image of a boat bearing the Gomez name sat framed against a lemon yellow wall, and the reception desk at the front was empty, made of chrome as well.