Bodies in the Boatyard

by Ellen Jacobson

  I took a deep breath and summoned up my courage to face Katy’s grandmother. Nancy Schneider and her husband, Ned, owned and managed the marina. They were close to retirement age, but they loved running their own business too much to consider selling it.

  While Nancy oversaw day-to-day operations with an iron fist, Ned was more easygoing, the type of guy who couldn’t even hurt a fly. Not that flies would get anywhere close to the marina office these days—word had gotten out about Nancy’s exceptional talents when it came to wielding a flyswatter.

  As I opened the screen door to the office, I saw a sign stuck in the middle of the carefully manicured flower bed that read “Gone Fishing with Norm’s Charters.” I reached over and spun it around to face the wall. Yes, it was a bit petty, but I should get some credit for not ripping it out of the ground and hurling it in the trash.

  “Why is that door ajar? Are you coming in or out?” a shrill voice yelled from inside.

  I stepped inside and quickly shut the door behind me. Nancy peered at me over her reading glasses. The look in her intense blue eyes caused me to stop slouching and stand at attention.

  “Yes, what can I do for you, Mollie?” She tapped her long, exquisitely manicured fingernails on the counter. I think she liked the slight intimidation factor her nails had on people. I’d seen large men cower when she jabbed her talons in their direction to emphasize her point. “You haven’t jammed quarters in the washing machine, too, have you?” she asked.

  “Huh? I have a perfectly good machine at home. Why would I need to do laundry here?” I asked. I felt guilty despite the fact that I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  A young woman approached the counter. “Nancy, for the last time, I’m really sorry.” She tucked her long glossy black hair behind her ears and straightened her shoulders. “But it wasn’t my fault that someone gave me a Bahamian quarter. They’re the same size. How was I supposed to know it would mess everything up?”

  “Well, dear, if it were me, I would look at the coins before I put them in the washing machine.” She pursed her lips, then added, “But that’s just me. I’m sure Mollie would agree, wouldn’t you?” I reluctantly nodded. I really didn’t want to get caught in a squabble over foreign coins. “You know Leilani, don’t you?” Nancy asked.

  The woman’s glittering necklace caught my eye. “Yes. I’ve seen you around the marina. You’re Mrs. Diamond,” I said.

  She cocked her head to one side. “No, it’s Mrs. Choi, actually. But it feels weird when someone calls me that. I always think they’re referring to my mother-in-law instead. Just call me Leilani.” She smiled. “I’d shake your hand, but…well…” She held up her right arm, which was encased in a cast that extended above her elbow.

  “Ouch. How did that happen?”

  Leilani grimaced. “I fell off the ladder trying to get on our boat. Fortunately, I only broke the one arm, but my other one still got pretty banged up.” She certainly did have a lot of bruises on her wrist.

  I thought about getting on and off Marjorie Jane at the dock. Sure, it was a pain, but I wasn’t convinced that a ladder would help. When I asked Leilani about it, she smiled.

  “No, we’ve got a ladder because we’re on the hard,” she said.

  “I know what you mean. I’m flabbergasted at how much it costs to have a boat. It seems like everyone is hard up at the marina.” I furrowed my brow. “Although I’m not sure how a ladder would help when it comes to paying the credit card bills. Unless, of course, you’re talking about climbing the corporate ladder.” I shuddered as I remembered my days working as a temp in cubicles for big companies. The thought of spreadsheets, dress codes, and only getting thirty minutes for lunch was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat.

  Leilani laughed. “No, we’re not hard up,” she said. “Our boat is out of the water and on the hard in the boatyard.” I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, and I guess my expression must have given me away because she added, “You know how the boats are propped up on jack stands?” I shook my head. “You know the metal stands they place around a boat’s keel to keep it from toppling over?”

  Nancy gave a dry chuckle. “You’ll have to excuse Mollie. She’s new to boats.”

  “Well, there’s no way you can get on a boat without a ladder or steps of some kind,” Leilani said. “We’re on a catamaran, so we don’t have as far to climb. Only about five feet, but I’m living proof that you can still do a lot of damage from that distance. Some of the other boats in the boatyard have a ten-foot drop.”

  “The boatyard can be a dangerous place,” Nancy said. She pointed at a series of binders on a shelf behind the counter. “That’s why we have so many safety rules and regulations in place. People complain about them. I don’t know why they don’t realize that they’re for their own good.”

  “Nancy, it wasn’t a safety issue. It was pure clumsiness on my part. A dog barked and it startled me. I lost my grip, and well…you know what happened next.” Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “I’d better go get my clothes out of the dryer,” Leilani said hastily.

  “That’s probably a good idea, dear,” Nancy said.

  “By the way, who’s Mrs. Diamond?” Leilani asked me as she reached out to open the door.

  “Oh, that’s you. At least, that’s what I used to call you, on account of your diamond necklace. I saw your husband give it to you over a romantic dinner at Chez Poisson a few months ago. We were sitting a couple of tables away.”

  The young woman smiled. “Oh, that was such a magical night. Ken really outdid himself with my birthday present this year.” I put my fingers to my own necklace—a lighthouse pendant with a small diamond representing its beacon. Scooter had outdone himself as well when he’d given it to me as a belated anniversary gift. Far better than any dilapidated sailboat.

  “Enough talk about jewelry,” Nancy snapped. Leilani slipped out the door while I turned back to the counter. “Why exactly are you here?” she demanded.

  “It’s about our emergency haul-out,” I said. “What happened? Scooter called, told you about the leak, and arranged to get lifted out of the water and taken to the boatyard. But when we got there, Norm cut in front of us, and they hauled him out instead.”

  Nancy seemed puzzled. “What emergency haul-out? This is the first I’m hearing about it. I’m in charge of the schedule and any exceptions.”

  “But Scooter said he talked to you.”

  “Are you saying I forgot a conversation with your husband?”

  “It doesn’t really matter. The important thing is to get Marjorie Jane out of the water before she sinks. Now, when can we—”

  The door swung open and Ned rushed in, dripping wet. “Mollie, there you are,” he said, gasping for breath. “I’m so sorry about what happened. It’s all my fault. I was heading down to tell the guys at the Travelift about your emergency when I tripped and fell in the water.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “I tried to call, but I’m afraid this didn’t survive.”

  “What were you doing making haul-out arrangements?” Nancy asked.

  “The phone rang. You were in the back,” Ned said as he wrung out his shirt.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “Probably just a few bruises and scrapes.”

  Nancy reached under the counter and pulled out a rag. “Here, wipe yourself off,” she said gruffly. “Then you should go upstairs and change out of those clothes.”

  As Ned tried to get water out of his ear, Nancy made a call to the Travelift crew. “Okay, they can haul you out in about a half hour. You’re lucky. We only have one spot left in the boatyard.” She handed me a form and a pen. “Fill this out.”

  “Can’t this wait, Nancy?” I asked. “I really want to go back and give Scooter an update.”

  “It will just take a minute.” She eyed Ned. “If this had been filled out before someone arranged for an emergency haul-out, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  Ned threw the ra
g on the counter. “You and your organization, Nancy. I’m getting sick to death of it.” He stormed out of the office, the screen door slamming behind him, leaving me wondering what had happened to the normally mild-mannered Ned.

  * * *

  “Are you sure those straps are strong enough to hold Marjorie Jane?” I asked. “She must weigh a ton.”

  “Eleven and three-quarters, to be exact,” Scooter said.

  “You’re such a nerd.”

  My dorky husband smiled as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth. “You didn’t seem to complain when we won fifty dollars at that pub trivia contest. And all because I knew that Isotelus trilobite is Ohio’s official state fossil.”

  I shrugged. “Okay, so it comes in handy from time to time.” I watched as the operator, who was sitting in a cab attached to the side of the large marine hoist, pulled on some levers. Marjorie Jane slowly rose out of the water, then dangled in the middle of a large metal frame. “But seriously, what would happen if the straps did break?”

  Scooter ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t even want to think about it. We’ve had enough bad luck today.” He looked around. “Where’s Mrs. Moto?”

  “Ben’s got her. He’ll meet us in the boatyard.”

  The operator reversed the Travelift, backing onto a concrete pad. He hopped out of the cab and grabbed a power washer. “This is going to take a while,” he said. “See all these barnacles? When’s the last time you cleaned the bottom?”

  “We just bought her a few months ago. This will be the first time we’ve done it,” Scooter said.

  After quite a bit of blasting with water and scraping by hand, the operator stepped back and surveyed his work. “That’ll have to do. Looks like you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you. Most of the bottom paint is gone, and these might be blisters here.” He chuckled. “Reckon you’ll be spending a long time in the boatyard.”

  Before he climbed back into the cab, I collared him. “Exactly what happened earlier with The Codfather?”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Norm pulled in front of us. We told his nephew that we had a leak and needed to get hauled out, but he acted like he couldn’t care less. Didn’t you hear us yelling at you that we had an emergency? Then right after that, Liam had a few words with you, maybe slipped you a little something, and next thing you know, they’re getting hauled out and not us.”

  He pulled his arm away. “Listen, lady. I don’t know what you’re implying, but it was a scheduling snafu. Take it up with Nancy.”

  “Just let it go,” Scooter said. “Come on, let’s walk behind and make sure nothing happens.” We watched as the Travelift slowly made its way down the road, Marjorie Jane swaying gently in the slings as the operator turned into the boatyard.

  There were around twenty boats arranged in a U shape around a workshop in the center, all propped up with metal stands and wooden blocks. It looked precarious, to say the least. One stiff breeze coming through this place and I could imagine them all toppling over like dominoes.

  My heart sank when I realized the Travelift was headed toward the only empty space in the yard, right between a catamaran named Mana Kai and my archenemy, The Codfather. After the operator and his assistant positioned Marjorie Jane in her spot and propped her up off the ground on jack stands, they unfastened the straps and left us to our own devices.

  “Hey, you’re that broad who believes in little green men, aren’t you?” a nasally voice called out. I glanced up and saw Norm leaning over the side of his boat holding a beer can. “What’s the name of your boat, ET?” The obnoxious man snickered at his own joke, took a big swig, then burped loudly. He pointed at Scooter. “Want one?” he asked, holding up his can.

  “No, I’m good,” Scooter said. “Besides, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Norm guffawed. “You can say that again. ET doesn’t look like she’ll be flying off into outer space anytime soon.”

  “Her name isn’t ET,” I said indignantly. “It’s Marjorie Jane. And she’s a fine boat.” No one was allowed to say disparaging things about our boat except me.

  “How would you know? Women don’t have any place on boats. They’re bad luck.” He added with a smirk, “Unless, of course, they’re paying customers. But that’s where I draw the line. Women certainly shouldn’t be in the boatyard. They don’t have a clue about how to fix anything on a boat.”

  “I have just as much right to be on this boat as my husband does. And I can fix anything that he can.”

  “Oh yeah? Are you going to be the one who paints the bottom?” he asked doubtfully.

  “I am. It’s my project.”

  Scooter’s mouth fell open. I had been doing my best to avoid boat projects ever since we’d got this wreck. Now here I was volunteering to lead one. I stepped back and stared at Marjorie Jane. I had never seen her out of the water before. The bottom half looked massive. I hadn’t painted anything since kindergarten, and that was with finger paints. How in the world was I going to manage this?

  “Hah, I don’t think you’ll last two hours.” Norm crushed his empty beer can with one hand, then tossed it on the ground. “Make that two minutes.”

  “Well, I will. You’ll see.”

  “Want to make a little wager?”

  Scooter whispered in my ear, “That’s enough, Mollie, you’ve made your point.”

  I put my fingers on his lips to shush him, then turned back to Norm. “Sure,” I said. “If I paint this bottom, then you have to name your boat ET.”

  “You’re on. And if you lose, you have to paint the bottom of my boat.”

  “Deal.”

  Norm grinned. “See those paint cans down there under my boat? You’ll need those when you lose.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Guess I’ll call Liam and tell him he can cross the bottom paint job off his list.”

  “That’s one guy you don’t want to make angry,” a voice said behind us. I turned and saw Leilani struggling to carry a laundry bag with one hand.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” Scooter said. He took the bag from her. “Where to?”

  “Right here,” she said, pointing at the catamaran. “Looks like we’re neighbors. Did I hear that right? You made a bet with Norm about bottom painting?”

  I put my head in my hands. “I guess so. Sometimes I’m a little…”

  “Impulsive?” Scooter suggested gently. He glanced at Leilani and smiled. “Sometimes it gets her in trouble, but it is one of her best qualities. It’s probably why we have so much fun together.”

  I walked over and picked up a paint can. “These are heavy.”

  “Twenty-three pounds, to be exact,” Scooter said. “The anti-fouling chemicals they add to the paint to keep stuff from growing on the bottom add about nine pounds. So a can of that is much heavier than your average house paint.”

  “You’re just hoping that will come up in a trivia contest, aren’t you?” I asked with a smile.

  “Not only are they heavy, they’re also expensive,” Leilani said. “They’re having a sale at Melvin’s right now. You might want to get some before the price goes back up.”

  “Why don’t I take this bag up onto your boat? It’s going to be hard enough for you to climb up with that cast as it is,” Scooter offered.

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. I see my husband over there. He can take care of it.” I looked over and saw a young man with dark hair carrying a briefcase. “He just got back from giving a lecture about sea turtle nesting patterns at the community college.” She looked at him proudly. “Ken’s a marine biologist. We met right after he finished his PhD.” She waved at him with her good arm, then frowned. “I wonder what’s going on.”

  Her husband had set his briefcase on the ground and was standing stiffly while a young man with dreadlocks gripped his shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

  “Hey, isn’t that one of the guys from last night?” I asked Scooter.

  “Yeah, I think so.”


  “Do you know Darren?” Leilani asked.

  “No, we haven’t been formally introduced,” I said.

  “He’s normally a nice guy. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him,” she said. She watched anxiously as Darren jabbed her husband in the chest. He gave Ken a mock salute, then walked toward the entrance to the boatyard. Ken clenched his fists, then caught sight of Leilani. He gave her a weak smile before picking up his briefcase and coming to join us.

  “What was that about?” Leilani asked after giving him a kiss.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  “Babe, don’t worry—” Ken’s phone beeped. I watched the color drain from his face as he read a text message. He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “It’s nothing,” he said with a note of finality.

  But I wasn’t so sure it was nothing, especially when I spied Darren standing by the workshop, holding his phone, watching Ken, and looking very pleased with himself.

  3

  THE DATING GAME

  Mrs. Moto padded alongside me as we made our way down the boardwalk at the marina. When we neared the stairs that led down to the beach, she stopped, crouched down, and slowly inched toward the top step.

  “I bet you want to go and harass those seagulls, don’t you?”

  She gazed up at me and made a chirping noise.

  “Okay, but don’t stay too long. Otherwise, you’ll miss out on all the bits of hamburgers and hot dogs that people ‘accidentally’ drop on the ground for you.”

  She meowed in agreement, then sneaked down the stairs. Both the calico and I looked forward to the potluck and barbecue that the marina hosted every Friday night. Ned and Nancy provided the meat, and everyone else brought a side dish or dessert to share. I walked toward the buffet table, occasionally pausing to chat with some of the friends we’d made since owning Marjorie Jane.