The Manatee Did It

by Kay Dew Shostak

  “But that’s what the police are doing, right?” I shrug and take a deep breath. “Once they realize Craig wasn’t on the docks and that his fingerprints don’t match, we’ll be out of the woods. I just want to forget this day ever happened.”

  “But honey,” Tamela says as she squeezes my arm, “he was on the docks. I saw him.”

  Chapter 9

  “No.” I shake my head. “No. He wasn’t down there. He came straight here. That’s what he said.”

  Tamela sighs. “We hurried over here so I could get a look at your husband, and I’m sorry to say I did see him on the docks today. But that doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything.”

  I sink onto the settee beside the staircase. “But why would he be down there? Why would he lie?”

  Lucy sits beside me. “That’s what we need to find out. First of all, however, I do know why Pierson Mantelle was here.” At lunch I not only found out Lucy is a mover and shaker on Sophia; she’s apparently an avid tennis player, and it shows in how controlled her actions are. Sitting on the edge of the couch, her knees are tucked together, the hem of her starched khaki skirt laying straight across them. Her arms are tanned, especially against the white of her shirt, and her short, blonde hair looks like she just came from the beauty shop, but I bet it always looks like this. She raises her hand and lowers her voice. “It’s all rather hush-hush, but the city is looking at selling the marina. Pierson represented a group that was interested in buying it.”

  Annie pulls her phone from her pocket. “Girls, we have to go. Adam is waiting for us.”

  “C’mon, Jewel,” Cherry says. She grabs my hand and pulls me up. “Five o’clock! It’s Pirate Punch time!”

  They bustle me through the door with them, everyone talking, but no one is answering my questions. Annie takes a break from leading our group to end up walking beside me. “Keep talking and thinking, ladies, I’ll fill Jewel in.” She leans down so I can hear her. “Adam is my son that works at the marina, remember? He’s got the lowdown on Pierson Mantelle, so we’re going to meet him at the Turtle Shell. Plus, it’s happy hour, and their Pirate Punch is to die for.”

  The weathered wood of the two-story Turtle Shell sits along the railroad tracks to the port. It frames a perfect view of the marina, the river, and the sunsets. Craig and I have already eaten here a couple times and watched the sun set on the water. Today, however, the ladies don’t head for the outside area but ask the hostess for a table inside, pointing to one in the back corner.

  “It is happy hour, right?” Cherry asks the hostess. The young woman smiles, nods, then asks, “Y’all want a round of the punch, Miss Annie?”

  Annie grins. “Sure. How’s your momma doing, Cherise? I saw her hobbling around on that scooter thing last week at the farmers market.”

  “Oh, Miss Annie, you know her. Can’t get her to stop for nothing. I’ll tell her you asked for her. That punch will be right out.” When she approaches the bar, the young woman turns back toward us and yells, “Miss Annie, did you see Adam is up here at the bar? I’ll tell him to come by and say hi.”

  As she darts into the kitchen to put in our order, the ladies all grin at each other. “That worked out better than we planned,” Tamela whispers. “No need for us to accidentally bump into him now. Everyone in the place heard that.”

  Annie shimmies her shoulders and beams. “I just knew we’d be really good at this detective stuff.”

  Okay, they seem to be enjoying this just a little too much. This already doesn’t feel real, and they are not helping me get my feet on solid ground.

  Lucy gets up and talks to some of the other diners in the restaurant while Annie and Tamela go to the restroom. That leaves me and Cherry alone at the table for a few minutes. She scoots over to sit beside me. “You look a bit stunned, honey. You okay?”

  “I am stunned. What in the world am I doing here when my husband is talking to the police? I know Tamela says she saw him on the dock, but that can’t be right. He wouldn’t just lie.”

  “Maybe he didn’t think it was important earlier. All I know is these ladies here know everything there is to know about Sophia Island, so I’d let them help. It’s a nice-sized town with a lot of tourists. The paper mills bring in a lot of folks, too, but all in all it’s just another Southern small town.” Her head lifts as our table mates and the waitress with her tray of pink drinks head our way. Out of the side of her mouth Cherry says, “Let them help you and your husband. I don’t think they can truly hurt anything.” She slides back into her seat.

  “Look who I found over at the bar,” Annie announces. “Adam, meet Sophia Island’s newest resident, Jewel Mantelle. Jewel, this is my oldest son, Adam. He was just having a beer at the bar, and I told him to join us for a minute. Is that okay with you ladies?”

  Having completed her performance, Annie retakes her seat beside me, making room for Adam on her other side. Lucy switches seats with Cherry to sit next to Adam, saying something about an air vent blowing on her hair. They are talking too loudly. Their eyes as they look at each other are too big and too full of meaning. They are just being—too everything.

  I’m not so sure I agree with Cherry’s thought that they can’t hurt anything.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mantelle,” Adam says. He reminds me of my son Chris, although Chris seems to be a few years younger. They both look like serious young men who like being outdoors.

  “Hello, Adam.” My mouth is so dry that I reach for my pink drink in its plastic cup and take a long pull from my straw. “Whoa, that’s really good,” I manage to get out before I start coughing. And laughing. Along with everyone else at the table.

  “Pirate Punch definitely has a punch,” Annie says. “You might better sip at it.” She folds her arms on the table and sinks down a bit. She twirls her finger at Cherry and Tamela, and they immediately start talking to each other, rather loudly, about some movie they’d recently seen.

  Annie then whispers, “Now, son, what is going on? Why was Pierson Mantelle here on Sophia?”

  Adam leans forward on his folded arms, too. “He was holding some meetings on his boat. Actually had Colby’s bring out food and containers of margaritas.”

  I whisper, “Like the one he was hit with?”

  “No, these were plastic jugs, almost like milk jugs. They use them to deliver drinks to boats. The one he was hit with was one of those big, heavy pitchers they have in Mexican restaurants.” He holds his hands out in a wide circle. “Big, thick glass, with a blue rim. He had glasses that matched, so I think the whole set was from his boat.”

  I take a sip of my drink, then with my hand still on my straw, I ask, “Did you see my husband on the docks?”

  Adam looks down, then at his mother, then at me. “I don’t know. I only saw a man with long sleeves on, a dress shirt. His head was in the shadows. I was helping the boat owner in the next slip, and as I walked by, I glanced onto the Mantelle boat. The only other thing is that there were some women on the boat. Y’all should be able to find out who from somebody at Colby’s, since they were taking food to the boat.”

  Lucy leans in closer. “Has Pierson been here on his boat often? Where’s he from?”

  Adam shrugs, then nods. “Occasionally. But, like, he never gets off it much that I know of. He has food delivered sometimes and walks around the docks a bit. He never stays more than one night.”

  Lucy writes a note on her napkin. “Let’s find out where his boat is registered. I have no idea where he lives now.” She grimaces and corrects herself. “Lived, I suppose.”

  Adam sighs and drops his head even lower. “Who would’ve ever imagined a murder at the marina? Two hurricanes back to back and now this? It’s like we’re cursed. All of us at the marina are pretty nervous about what’s going to happen. If I get laid off, I might have to leave Sophia and really don’t want to do that, but… ” He shrugs again, then sits back and finishes his beer. “I need to get home. Mom, the kids will want to know if you’re going to dinner at ch
urch tonight.”

  “Not tonight. We have too much to do with our case.” As her son stands up, she says, “Tell the kiddos I’ll come over tomorrow. Give Leesa a break.”

  He bends down to hug her, then moves around behind her. “Good luck, Mrs. Mantelle. It was nice to meet you.”

  “You, too, Adam.” Then I lower my voice. “Thanks.”

  The crowd in the restaurant has grown while we’ve been talking. As I look around, Lucy and Annie are whispering to my side. Cherry and Tamela are still discussing movies, although I get the feeling they’re making up stuff to say at this point. Annie motions for me to lean closer.

  “Lucy says Pierson had been talking to, and maybe working with, some of the councilmembers on selling the marina. Can you believe that?”

  Cherry leans toward us. “I know I’ve only lived here five years and we don’t own a boat, so all I ever do at the marina is watch the sunset, but how can someone just buy a marina? And how can a city just sell one?”

  Lucy picks up her drink, but before putting the straw in her mouth, she says, “That’s what a lot of folks want to know.” She opines with raised eyebrows, “Not a lot of answers around here lately.”

  Annie’s phone buzzes. She reads it, then looks at me. “Aiden says he’s taking your husband home in about five minutes.”

  Cherry toasts me with her punch. “Well, that’s good news. They didn’t arrest him.”

  “Of course they didn’t arrest him,” I say with a small laugh, but with a sinking stomach, I realize I should have been worried about that. I stand up. “I need to go home. Be there when Craig gets there. I’m sure he’s got everything figured out. How much do I owe?”

  All four ladies shake their heads at me. “We’ve got it,” Annie says. “You just go on home.”

  I push my chair in and thank them all. “I really appreciate it, ladies. Hope you solve the mystery. I’m just glad Craig is out of it. They wouldn’t have let him leave if he wasn’t, right?” They all smile and give me the thumbs-up. As I head toward the front door, I decide I should stop in the restroom before walking home. When I abruptly turn, I see all those smiles and lifted thumbs at the table have turned to frowns and shaking heads.

  Never mind the restroom. I need to get home.

  Chapter 10

  When I walk through our open gate, there’s a woman coming around the corner of our house.

  “Can I help you?” I ask. I can’t believe that we’ve had no company in the last month, but now someone’s waiting for me every time I return.

  The woman looks about my age, maybe older, though I’m not that good at guessing ages. She’s wearing a black jersey dress with three-quarter sleeves; big, dark sunglasses; and black wedge sandals. Her black hair is pulled back into a ponytail that swishes as she walks toward me. I’ve noticed people in Florida wear sunglasses even when the sun is going down. I’m not sure what that’s about.

  As we reach each other she holds out her hand. Our hands meet, and she says, “Hello, Mrs. Mantelle? I’m Leigh Anne.” She places her free hand over our entwined hands and presses. “Leigh Anne Mantelle.”

  “Oh! Oh, so you’re related to my husband. I’ve not met any of the family, but I’d heard there were quite a few of you around. I’m Jewel. Won’t you come in?” I pull my hand away from hers and hold my other hand out toward the front steps.

  “I’d love to.” She strides up the stairs, then waits for me. When I shove in the door with my hip, I notice I’m getting a little sore on that hip. I rub it as she rushes past me.

  “My, it’s quite full, isn’t it?” She turns to me as she whips off her sunglasses. Only her hands tell her age, as her face and neck are quite smooth. I believe she’s had some surgical help, but I’m not good at spotting that either. Her eyes, a fabulous moss green, stare at me and hold my attention. I really do have to start using face cream more religiously. She breaks her gaze to look around again; then she sighs. “I haven’t been in here in, oh, probably decades. Cora sure took being a hermit to heart with all this junk.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is quite full. No idea if any of it is good enough to keep. Do you live near here?”

  She laughs as she folds her sunglasses and tucks them into a little black purse. “Oh my word! No, not at all. We live in Ponte Vedra.”

  She says that like I should know that living in Ponte Vedra means something. People do that when you move to a new place, assume you make all the correct assumptions based only on their well-enunciated words. So I ignore it. Then I remember the dead man, Pierson Mantelle. “Oh, did you hear? I mean about what happened with that Mr. Mantelle at the marina?”

  She draws in a breath but before she can speak, her eyes go distant and she collapses onto the settee behind her. Luckily, it would be hard to collapse in this packed room and hit the floor.

  “Oh no! Mrs. Mantelle? Leigh Anne, are you okay? Let me get you some water.”

  I rush off to get a bottle of water, and as I come back with it, the front door flies open. Craig bellows, “They told me to not leave—” He stops when he follows my eyes to our company.

  “Craig, this is Leigh Anne Mantelle.”

  The woman gathers herself and sits up a little straighter, then holds out her manicured hand. Craig hesitates with another quick glance at me before walking over and taking her hand for just a moment.

  “Hello,” she says, staring into his face. “I believe we are cousins by marriage.”

  Craig shrugs a bit and lifts his hand at the water I’ve just given her. “Think I’ll get something to drink, too.” He walks out of the room.

  I sit down, a little off guard at how short Craig acted, but then again, he did just come from the police station. I wait while Leigh Anne takes a long drink.

  “Thank you. I needed that.” She looks toward the kitchen, obviously waiting for Craig to return, so I wait, too. When he comes back with a tumbler of some sort of brown liquor on ice, he sits across the room from us on a formal side chair.

  Our guest tilts her head up gently in a questioning mode. “So you were at the police station?”

  Craig’s head snaps toward me, and he glares. I squawk, “I didn’t say that!” I look at her. “I didn’t tell you that.”

  She softly laughs. “Why would I need you to tell me anything? I was born here. I know more about what’s going on in Sophia Island than you’ll ever know.” She looks back at Craig, and her voice takes on a hard edge as she says, “Isn’t that right, C. J.?”

  He shifts in his chair and downs the rest of his drink.

  She suddenly stands and, with her hands on her slim hips, declares, “Honestly, every time I come back here, I remember why we moved away. It’s such a tacky little town, don’t you think? Pirates? Turtle Shells? Honestly.” She flutters her hand in dismissal as she stalks toward the front door, slowly examining everything around her. “And you being saddled with this, this house. Poor things.”

  Neither Craig nor I move. All our energy has drained out of us. There is nothing at all left to make us stand, say goodbye, or even care that Leigh Anne is leaving. It’s like I’m watching her on the television, and all that’s left to do is to turn it off.

  She turns to face us as she pulls out her sunglasses, unfolds them, and places them on her face. She continues with her over-the-top soliloquy. “Only something dreadfully important could make me come back to my godforsaken hometown. Only something like the murder of my son.”

  My mouth drops open, and Craig springs from his chair. Leigh Anne flips around, ponytail flying out, and opens the front door. She’s gone before Craig gets to the edge of the old carpet. Before I even stand up.

  I join Craig on the porch, and we watch her stalk down the sidewalk, through the gate, and get into the low-slung car she’d parked on the street.

  As she roars off, lethargy settles back over me. I sink onto a window ledge beside the door. “This is a mess. What did the police say?”

  “Not to leave town.” He looks around at me. “I’m star
ving. What is there to eat?”

  I lean over my knees and hug my legs. I don’t want to eat. I lift my head and force out the question. “Were you on the docks this afternoon? Did you go to Pierson Mantelle’s boat?”

  He pushes his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and jingles his car keys. He’s already jogging down the front steps when he says, “We’ll talk when I get back with some dinner.”

  I watch him leave just as I watched Mrs. Mantelle leave.

  I don’t know what to think about either one of them right now.

  Chapter 11

  “I put your salad in the fridge. You’d already gone up to bed when I got back last night,” Craig says to me as I creep down the long staircase the next morning. At his voice, I straighten up, tighten the belt on my robe, and walk faster. I’m still mad.

  “So you’re home. You know, I probably wasn’t asleep when you got home, even though it took you hours to find some dinner. You could’ve come upstairs.”

  He leans back on the couch as he sips his coffee. “I was fine down here.”

  I sit on the chair next to his end of the couch. Blankets and pillows are piled on the other end, where he spent the night. My anger seeps away, and I can’t hide the sadness in my voice. “I thought we weren’t going to start this here? You sleeping on the couch or in the guest room.”

  He shrugs, not even looking at me, so I get up and make myself a cup of coffee. From the kitchen I say, “So you didn’t tell me about the police station.”

  “Listen, it’s not a big deal…” His voice drags off, and then he’s quiet. When I come back into the living room, he’s scooted up to the edge of the couch and turned toward the chair I was in, his elbows planted on his knees. Craig is a runner, but his build doesn’t look like a runner’s. He’s square, and his legs are short. He looks more like a wrestler. Anyway, he’s attractive and healthy-looking. His dark hair has only a few gray strands in it, and his smile can light up a room. We’ve not had much to smile about lately, though. My coffee cup on the side table, I sit in the chair and show I’m listening.