Ellen Jacobson
Dead in the Dinghy
A Mollie McGhie Sailing Mystery, #4
First published by Ellen Jacobson 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Ellen Jacobson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
www.ellenjacobsonauthor.com
First edition
ISBN: 978-1-951495-04-6
Editing by Beth Balmanno, By the Book
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
For all the cats out there who love nothing more than waking up their humans at the crack of dawn to demand their breakfast. There’s nothing quite like a furry alarm clock pawing at your face to get you going in the morning.
Contents
The Crew
1. Honey-Do Lists
2. Clause 72(c)
3. Opposable Thumbs
4. The Sacrificial M&M’S
5. Annoying Seagulls
6. Killer Dolphins
7. The Unicorns of the Sea
8. The Ghost of Coconut Carl
9. The R2-D2 Pencil Holder
10. Edward Scissorhands
11. Oreo Cookies and Milk
12. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
13. Magic Beans
14. Extra Ketchup
15. Road Hogs
16. Hairballs
Mollie’s Sailing Tips
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Ellen Jacobson
A Sneak Peek of Shooting by the Sea
The Crew
Mollie McGhie – When she isn’t investigating murders and learning how to sail, Mollie spends her time educating the public about UFOs and alien abduction.
Scooter McGhie – Mollie’s husband. Passionate about boats, he dreams about sailing around the world one day.
Mrs. Moto – Mollie and Scooter’s Japanese bobtail cat who has an uncanny talent for finding clues.
Jim Ferguson – Owner of the Sailor’s Corner Cafe.
Penny Chadwick – Runs the local sailing school and boat brokerage.
Olivia Peterson – World-famous sailor, YouTube celebrity, and artist.
Alan Simpson – Wedding photographer, YouTuber, and aspiring photojournalist.
Ned & Nancy Schneider – Owners of the Palm Tree Marina.
Thomas Sinclair – Runs a retreat for artists on Destiny Key.
Gregor Smirnov – Owner of art galleries around the world, including one in Coconut Cove.
Ben Moretti – A wannabe pirate who works at the marina.
Chief “Tiny” Dalton – Coconut Cove’s chief of police.
Anabel Dalton – Chief Dalton’s ex-wife; local artist known for her fanciful paintings.
Frick & Frack – The Dalton’s adorable Yorkshire terrier dogs.
Victoria Williams – Local artist known for her seascapes.
Melvin Rolle – Owner of Melvin’s Marine Emporium; originally from the Bahamas.
Sawyer Nichols – Local singer and artist who lives in a converted van.
Chief Archibald Tyler – Destiny Key’s chief of police.
Tanner – Barista at the cafe on Destiny Key.
Silas de Vries – Art collector who lives on Destiny Key.
1
Honey-Do Lists
What would you do if your husband decided to start a YouTube channel featuring your cat? Would you:
(a) Give him a honey-do list because clearly he has too much time on his hands;
(b) Search for a product to tame your frizzy hair in case you end up on camera;
(c) Worry that your cat was going to develop an over-sized ego; or
(d) Start sewing adorable cat costumes?
Option (a) was very tempting. I love creating to-do lists. Doing the tasks on them, not so much. That’s what makes honey-do lists so appealing—you get to assign chores to your hubby while you sit back, relax, and eat chocolate.
If only that was how it worked. Sigh. In reality, both Scooter and I had huge to-do lists already. Neither of us had time to chill out and eat chocolate. Okay, the part about not eating chocolate? A total lie. I always find time for chocolate. Having lots that needs to be done? That’s true. You see, we live on a dilapidated sailboat named Marjorie Jane. We’ve been spending lots of time and money fixing her up, but it seems like a never-ending battle. How that man is going to manage to find time between the boat and his telecommunications business to turn our cat into an internet sensation is beyond me.
There are days when Marjorie Jane makes me want to tear my hair out, which brings me to option (b)—my quest for a miracle product that will make my tresses smooth and silky so that I would be camera-ready. I can’t tell you how many jars, tubes, and bottles I’ve bought from hairdressers over the years. Nothing has worked so far. I probably should resign myself to my mousy-brown frizz. It does a halfway decent job of camouflaging my oddly shaped skull, the result of one too many crashes back in my roller derby days.
Our cat, Mrs. Moto, doesn’t have to worry about how she looks. She’s a gorgeous Japanese bobtail calico with glossy fur and black markings around her eyes that resemble glasses. While she loves being the center of attention, I wasn’t too worried about (c)—having to deal with a feline diva. So far, her ego seems to be in check, at least by cat standards. After all, don’t all cats already believe they’re the center of the universe since being told they were gods by the ancient Egyptians?
Option (d) was definitely going to happen. Mrs. Moto loved to dress up almost as much as I loved to dress her up. In fact, she had recently won the annual Coconut Cove pet costume competition. Her Princess Leia outfit had wowed the judges. I couldn’t wait to get my sewing machine out and make a little sailor suit for her. Scooter was enthusiastic about the idea. He thought it would be a great look for her debut video.
Which brings me back to this whole hare-brained scheme of his to make Mrs. Moto a YouTube star. Why don’t you grab a beverage and some cookies, and I’ll tell you all about how he sprung this little surprise on me.
There we were, sipping our morning coffee in Marjorie Jane’s cockpit and watching the sun rise over the dusty boatyard. My stomach grumbled loudly. It does that on a regular basis, reminding me that it needs regular feedings. I wasn’t looking forward to breakfast—a piece of whole wheat toast with a poached egg. Yuck. Over the past few months, we had been trying to eat healthier, but there are only so many days in a row you can survive without sugar and bacon. Not necessarily together, but you know what I mean. So when Scooter suggested we go to the Sailor’s Corner Cafe, I was overjoyed. Thoughts of pancakes drenched in butter and syrup made me salivate.
When we arrived at the cafe, I started to walk toward my favorite booth by the window. Scooter grabbed my elbow. “No, not there. We’re going to the meeting room instead.”
“Why’s that?”
He steered me through the restaurant to a courtyard at the rear of the building. “You’ll see,” he said with a mysterious smile.
I clapped my hands together. “Ooh. A surprise! I love surprises.”
“That’s not what you said when I gave you Marjorie Jane for our tenth wedding anniversary.”
“Well, rundown sail
boats don’t usually top my list of things I want to be surprised with,” I said. “But I’m sure this one will be great.”
He smiled. “I think you’re going to love it.”
The scent of gardenias filled the air as we walked across the brick patio toward the meeting room. As Scooter put his hand on the door handle, I asked, “Should I close my eyes?”
He furrowed his brow. “Why? That would make it hard to see.”
“But it’s customary,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. “Then everyone yells, ‘Surprise!’ and you open your eyes in astonishment.”
“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. There are a couple of steps down into the room. You could trip.”
I opened my eyes and shrugged. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. At least let me guess what’s inside. Obviously, there’s a chocolate cake and—”
“It’s eight o’clock,” he interrupted. “Why would there be cake so early?”
“You’re the one who scheduled my little surprise for the morning. But that’s fine with me. Cake tastes just as good for breakfast as it does in the evening. Let’s see, what else will there be…” I tapped my finger against my lips. “Clowns,” I said decisively. “There are clowns inside too.”
“Clowns?” Scooter spluttered. “Why would there be clowns?”
“Oh, you’re good. Pretending like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” I squeezed his arm. “I almost believed you.”
“Honestly, I’m not pretending.” He pulled open the door. “We’re going to be late. Let’s head inside.”
As I entered the large room, I noted a distinct lack of decorative touches. A large screen was positioned at the front next to a podium and a small table with a laptop and a pitcher of water. Dotted around the room were round tables covered in plain white tablecloths, with notepads and pens at each place setting. No flowers, no streamers, no balloons, and not a single clown in sight.
Scooter pointed at a buffet at the side of the room. “Why don’t we grab a bite to eat before it starts?”
“Count me in,” I said. “Chocolate cake and coffee. The perfect way to start the day.” As I threaded my way through a group of young men talking about microphones and tripods, I wondered why there were people I didn’t know in attendance. Before I could ask about the invite list, Jim Ferguson, the owner of the Sailor’s Corner Cafe, pulled Scooter aside. Jim’s usual appearance always made me think of what Santa Claus would look like if he were on vacation in Florida. A bushy white beard, a portly physique, bright red cheeks, a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sandals.
While Scooter and Jim were deep in conversation—no doubt making sure all the arrangements for my surprise were in place—I surveyed the breakfast options. Miniature seemed to be the theme of the day. I piled mini quiches, mini pigs-in-a-blanket, mini waffles, and mini muffins onto my plate. Fortunately, the bacon strips were full-sized.
As I reached across the table for a mini doughnut, a familiar voice said, “Maybe you should save room for dessert.” I looked up and saw my friend, Penny Chadwick, holding a fruit kebab. As usual, she was dressed head-to-toe in her favorite color, pink. Even her long blond hair was pulled back with a pink bow.
“Only you would think fruit was a suitable dessert,” I said with a smile. “I’ll be having the chocolate cake instead.”
“It’s a little early for cake, don’t you think?” she asked with that adorable Texan twang of hers.
“You’re right. It is too early.” I pointed at Scooter, who was still talking with Jim. “He’s probably arranging for it to be brought out after everyone has had their breakfast.”
“He is?”
I leaned toward her and said in a low voice, “It’s okay. I know about the surprise party.”
“Surprise party?” Penny cocked her head to one side. “Wait a minute, is it your birthday today?”
“No, not until next month.”
“Then why would Scooter throw you a surprise party today?”
“Duh. That’s what would make it so surprising,” I said. “I have to say, he’s been really clever about it. If you look around the room, you wouldn’t think it’s a party.”
“That’s because it isn’t—”
A voice over the speakers interrupted Penny. “Could everyone please take their seats?” A young woman with neon blue cropped hair and ruddy skin was standing at the podium. “We’re going to start the presentation in a few minutes.”
“Who’s that?” I asked, balancing my plate while I poured a cup of coffee.
“She’s the guest speaker,” Penny replied. “She flew down from New York City yesterday.”
“Guest speaker? That’s kind of an odd touch for a party.”
“I think you might have your wires crossed.” After Penny selected an herbal tea, she said, “It looks like Scooter snagged a table up front. Come on, let’s sit down. I don’t want to miss anything.”
After taking our seats, the lights dimmed. Pictures of sailboats flashed across the screen, accompanied by upbeat music, before fading to a shot of the speaker at the helm of the boat and the words, “Olivia Peterson. Sailor. Artist. YouTuber.” Everyone broke into applause as the lights came back on. Everyone except me. I was too busy deciding which miniature breakfast item to eat first.
“Welcome, everyone,” the blue-haired woman said. “When Alan Simpson asked me to give a presentation, he thought five, maybe ten people would register.” She pointed at a short man standing in the corner holding a camera. He wasn’t hard to miss with his obviously-from-a-bottle chestnut hair. “Alan, it looks like you were wrong. Look at this crowd. What a great turnout.” She pointed at the audience. “Give yourselves a hand, everyone!”
While everyone clapped, I looked around the room. Why didn’t I know half of the people Scooter had invited to my party? And why had he asked Alan to organize a guest speaker? Before I could find out what was going on, she continued. “I’m sure you all already know a bit about me and my background, but just in case you don’t, let me give you a little intro. My name is Olivia Peterson. I recently finished circumnavigating the globe on my sailboat, the Anastasia.”
As the room broke out into applause again, Scooter leaned over and whispered, “Isn’t she amazing? That could be us one day.”
“Circumnavigating? Yeah, right,” I said as I dusted crumbs off my shirt. “Let’s just concentrate on successfully sailing in the Coconut Cove Regatta this weekend before we make grand plans to take our boat any further afield.”
“Shush,” Penny said. “I can’t hear her.”
The young woman smiled and held up her hands. “Thank you, but you should be applauding yourselves, not me. You’re the ones taking the first step toward being a creative entrepreneur by setting up your own YouTube channel.” She motioned at Alan. He approached the podium, held his camera up, and panned the room from left to right. “By the way, Alan is going to be taking some B-roll footage during today’s session, which I’ll be using in my next video.”
I frowned. I was okay with pictures of my party, but videos made me uncomfortable, especially since my hair was having an extra unruly day. There’s nothing worse than seeing frizzy hair in motion.
Olivia grabbed a portable microphone, then walked over to our table. “Before we dive into my presentation, why don’t we go around the room and do some introductions? Please tell us your name and what kind of videos you want to create.”
I blinked rapidly. This was starting to seem less and less like a surprise party. Unless it was meant to be a really bad surprise party. When Olivia held the microphone in front of my husband, my fears were confirmed.
He stood and adjusted his tortoiseshell glasses. “Hi. My name is Scooter McGhie. My wife, Mollie, and I are starting a YouTube channel featuring our cat, Mrs. Moto.”
I cleared my throat before asking, “We are?”
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Scooter said, his dark brown puppy dog eyes sparkling with excitement. He picked up a large envelope from th
e table, opened it up, pulled out a stack of glossy photographs, then handed one to Olivia.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, holding it up for the audience to see. “She’s so adorable.”
I grabbed one of the photos. “Are these head shots of Mrs. Moto?”
“They turned out nicely, didn’t they?” Scooter said with a huge grin plastered on his face.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed. My husband certainly had surprised me, just not in the way I had hoped.
While I contemplated Scooter’s new fascination with cat videos, Olivia continued with introductions.
As Penny explained how she wanted to leverage YouTube to drive business to her sailing school and boat brokerage, I grabbed the last piece of bacon from Scooter’s plate. He was so absorbed in looking at the pictures of our cat that he didn’t even notice.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Olivia said to Penny. “I have a number of friends who use their channels to generate new business leads. The trick is to post interesting content, not just advertisements for your business.”
“I thought I’d start with filming the Coconut Cove Regatta,” Penny said. “People might enjoy watching footage of the sailing races, as well as the other regatta events we have planned to celebrate the Fourth of July.”
Olivia nodded. “Great idea. The regatta sounds like a lot of fun.”
“There’s always room for a famous circumnavigator on my boat,” Penny said. “We’d love to have you on board.”
“I wish I could join you, but I already have plans for the holiday weekend. I’ll be at an artists’ retreat on Destiny Key.”
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