Scooter took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but…”
“Tell me what?” When he didn’t reply right away, I added, “Don’t forget that brownies are at stake here.”
Scooter smiled. “Okay, but don’t turn this into some sort of dark conspiracy that you need to investigate.”
“Me? Never.”
“Well, Suzanne called to arrange for the photographer to come out, and then she went on about how Darren was involved in all this poaching activity everyone’s been talking about.”
“Darren? Everyone I talk to says it’s Liam. Haven’t you heard about that flashy car of his?”
He shrugged. “I have, but it’s none of our business. Right?”
“I’d better clear the table,” I said, stacking the plates and utensils.
“Right?” Scooter asked as I walked inside. I came back out with a notebook and pen.
“Okay, time to make a list.”
Scooter sighed. “Don’t you have enough lists already?”
I opened up the notebook to a blank page. “Okay, the first person I need to speak with is Norm. There’s obviously no love lost between him and Melvin. Maybe Norm killed Darren in order to drive Melvin out of business? Melvin is already having to cancel fishing charters because he doesn’t have anyone to captain the boat.”
I underlined Norm’s name, then wrote Suzanne’s next to it. “I’ll also have to talk to his wife, but I’m afraid that’s going to be a tricky conversation.”
“Why? You think she’ll be evasive?”
“Well, that goes without saying. But what I’m really concerned about is that she’ll try to turn the conversation into a discussion about my fashion sense, or lack of one. Plus, that perfume she wears is quite overpowering.”
“Maybe I should have gotten you a bottle for Valentine’s Day,” Scooter said with a smile.
I wrinkled my nose. “No, you did just fine. You can never go wrong with chocolate.” I tapped my pen on the table. “Okay, next on the list is Liam. He’s an interesting suspect. I can think of two motives as to why he would have killed Darren. The first is the same as Norm—to drive Melvin out of business. The second is jealousy. He wanted Darren out of the picture so he could have Alejandra all to himself.”
Scooter scoffed. “Jealousy? Who would kill someone because of love? If a relationship doesn’t work out, you move on.”
“My, how logical you are, Mr. Spock.”
“Is he the pointy-eared guy?”
“You know he is. I love how you pretend not to know anything about any of the sci-fi shows I watch, yet you always happen to sit next to me when I have them on and pester me with a million questions. Admit it, you’re a sci-fi geek too.”
“The only reason I watch those shows is because you hide the remote from me.”
“Speaking of hiding things, do you remember that conversation between Darren and Ken in the boatyard the other day? I wonder what they were talking about. It almost seemed like Ken was scared of Darren.” I made a note on my list. “That will be easy. I’ll go talk with Leilani about downsizing and then slip a few questions into the conversation about Ken.”
“So you are seriously thinking about moving onto the boat!” Scooter said triumphantly.
“Calm down. It’s just a ruse. I have no interest in selling this cottage.”
Scooter grabbed my notebook from me and put it on the other side of the table. “Okay, enough of that. Let’s have dessert.”
“But you haven’t guessed the secret ingredient yet.”
“Oh, come on, I’ll never figure it out. It’s probably some exotic ingredient. Or a fancy French thing I can’t pronounce. In any event, it was delicious. I did eat every last bite.” He got a puzzled look on his face. “Hey, wait a minute. I ate every last bite. That never happens. Mrs. Moto is always at my feet demanding handouts. I haven’t seen her in a while. Where is she?”
“That’s a very good question.” As we walked into the house, I heard a rustling noise in the hallway and went to investigate. “Scooter, come here. I think I solved the mystery of the disappearing cat.”
I pointed at a box on the floor. Mrs. Moto had her head inside of it and was trying to knock it off. Scooter picked her up, pulled the box off, and handed her to me.
“Listen, little kitty, this is my Cap’n Crunch cereal.” He stroked the calico’s head. “You have very good taste.” She meowed in agreement, then tapped the box with her paw. “Yes, it’s empty,” Scooter said. “We’ll have to get some more. Wait a minute, is this—”
“Yep, you guessed it. That’s the secret ingredient—I used Cap’n Crunch in the breading on the chicken.”
* * *
The Tipsy Pirate was a favorite hangout among both locals and tourists. Visitors to the area loved to have their picture taken with the wooden statue of Coconut Carl, a pirate who’d plied the local waters and had been known for his love of plunder and women, but most of all for his love of rum.
Legend had it that he’d once donned a dress and put a coconut underneath in an attempt to disguise himself as a pregnant woman and evade capture. However, he was more than a little tipsy at the time and forgot to shave off his mustache and beard, which made his story a little less believable.
It was considered good luck to rub Coconut Carl’s belly while drinking a shot of rum. Tourists gobbled it up, while the residents politely hid their laughs. After all, they knew the legend was good for the local economy.
Despite differing views on the Tipsy Pirate’s kitschy mascot, everyone agreed that happy hour there was the place to be. The owners had converted an abandoned fish-processing plant into the local watering hole. A large wooden deck extended out the back over the water. The inside was decorated with fishing rods and lures hanging from the rafters, mounted fish on the walls, and a long bar made out of two old wooden rowboats.
“Thanks for the ride,” Melvin said to us. “After I got home from church, I just wanted to crawl back in bed and try to forget everything that had happened. I’m sure glad you came over and convinced me to get out of the house and do something tonight.” He waved at a couple of older men sitting in the corner. “I’m going to go catch up with my pals for a few minutes.”
“It’s really crowded tonight,” I said, glancing around to see if there were any empty tables. “We might have to sit up at the bar, and you know I hate that. Why do they have to make the barstools so high? I can barely climb up on them with my short legs.”
“Your little legs are in luck,” Scooter said. “Leilani is waving us over. Looks like they have some empty seats.”
“Perfect,” I said. “I can ask her and Ken about Darren.”
Scooter shook his head. “You mean downsizing, right?”
“Darren, downsizing—same thing. They both begin with D.”
“Here, sit next to me,” Leilani said, patting a seat between her and Alejandra. “We girls can catch up, while the guys get us some drinks.”
“I thought you weren’t going to come tonight,” I said to Alejandra.
“I wasn’t, but then I felt bad about making that thing up about looking at nail polish with Nancy. I decided I really should come out and support Ben and Liam. They’ve been working so hard getting their band together.” She toyed with her coaster. “As annoying as they can both be at times, they’re still my friends.”
A young woman wearing a tie-dyed tank top and purple leggings walked on stage and picked up the microphone. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to the Tipsy Pirate,” she said. “I hope you’re all having a good time. We’re Eye Patches and Peg Legs, and we’re delighted to be here this afternoon. So kick back, grab another drink, and we’ll play our first set soon.”
“What can I get everyone?” Scooter asked. He pointed at me. “Gin and tonic, right, my little panda bear?” I nodded. Leilani and Alejandra both asked for rum and cokes. Ken rose. “I’ll come with you and help carry the drinks back.”
Alejandra gi
ggled. “Panda bear? I thought he used to call you his little sweet potato?”
I sighed. Scooter always had the most ridiculous pet names for me. He rarely called me Mollie, and when he did it usually meant he had something serious to say, or he was in trouble.
“He started using panda bear after we won a trivia pub game. He was the only person who knew the Chinese call them giant bear cats. Scooter thought it was cute because my mom gave me panda bear pajamas for Christmas, and he claims that I’m always sneaking around like a cat investigating things.”
“I think it’s cute too,” Alejandra said.
“Well, I guess it’s better than having someone refer to you as a root vegetable.”
I watched as Ben and Liam walked up to the stage. There didn’t seem to be any of the tension I had seen the previous night. Ben got his guitar out of its case while Liam sat behind a drum set. A third guy picked up a bass. After conferring for a few minutes with the band, the woman sat down on a barstool at the front of the stage.
“She’s got a great voice,” Leilani said. “We heard her last week.”
“Did you know she lives in a van?” Alejandra asked as Ken passed us our drinks. “I can’t imagine living in such a small space.”
“Living on a boat can’t be much different,” I said, squeezing a lime into my drink.
Alejandra considered that. “I guess you’re right. Either way, you have to downsize.” I tried to ask about my other D topic, but before I could utter Darren’s name, she shushed me when the band began to play. She was right—the young woman had a great voice, and the band was surprisingly good.
While they took a break between sets, Alejandra told us some more about van living. Then she turned to Leilani. “I have to ask. Why in the world did you move onto your boat?”
She thought about it for a minute. “A lot of reasons, really. We wanted to lead a simpler life and not get caught up in that whole competing-with-the-Joneses mentality. You know, having a new car, a big house, expensive clothes. When I look at my parents, sure, they have lots of nice things, but I’m not convinced those things make them happy. They actually encouraged us to go simple now, while we’re young.”
“Did you have a house before you got the boat?” Alejandra asked.
“Yes, a two-bedroom townhouse.”
“You must have had to get rid of a lot of stuff,” Alejandra said.
Leilani smiled. “Oh yes. Anything you want to know about selling your stuff online and at yard sales, I can fill you in. But at least we didn’t have thirty, forty years of stuff to get rid of.” She turned to me. “Do you know Louise?”
“Sure, I take sailing lessons with her.”
“Well, she and her husband sold their place when they retired. It was so hard for her to get rid of everything. She told me that when she looked through a box of presents her kids had made for her over the years, she broke down in tears. In the end, she couldn’t bear to part with everything, so they got a storage unit. She figures after they’ve been cruising for a while, if she doesn’t miss what they’ve put in storage, then she can get rid of it. But if things don’t work out, and they decide to move back on land, she’ll still have her prized possessions.”
“Sounds sensible,” I said.
“Do you think that’s what you’ll do?” Leilani asked me.
“Huh?”
“When you sell your cottage.”
“What, when did this happen?” Alejandra asked.
“It hasn’t. It’s just another one of Scooter’s crazy ideas, like buying a boat. It’s never going to happen.”
“Well, you did buy a boat,” Alejandra pointed out.
“Okay, it’s like the time he wanted to…wait, we ended up doing that.” I put my head in my hands.
“Would it be so bad?” Leilani asked. “What is it about living on a boat that puts you off? Is it getting rid of your stuff?”
“No, it’s not that so much. We did a bit of downsizing before we moved to Coconut Cove. Sure, there’s some things I can’t imagine living without, like my collection of boots, but it’s more the thought of living in such a small, cramped space. For example, I made a nice lunch today, and there were dishes everywhere. I can’t imagine making a meal like that in the tiny galley that Marjorie Jane has.”
“Maybe you need a bigger boat,” Alejandra suggested with a smile.
“Don’t you dare let Scooter hear you say that,” I said.
“To be fair, it does take some getting used to,” Leilani said. “But it is possible to live in a relatively small space.”
The band started playing again before I had a chance to change the subject away from downsizing and toward the murder investigation. While the singer paused to take a drink of water, the doors to the bar swung open.
“I told you not to trust Liam with the accounts,” a shrill voice rang out. I watched as Suzanne stood in the entrance, jabbing her finger in Norm’s chest. “He failed algebra in high school. Did you really think he would know the difference between an asset and a liability?”
Norm brushed her hand away. She continued, oblivious to the fact that the room had gone silent and everyone was watching her. “The real liability here is Liam. I really think I should call Xander and persuade him to move back here and help you with the business.”
“For the last time, Xander is your son, not mine. Liam is going to be the one who inherits, not Xander.”
Suzanne’s jaw dropped as she watched him storm off to the bar. Then she looked around the room, her eyes lighting on the band. She waved at the singer, the gold charms on her bracelet flashing in the overhead light. “Can you sing something by Jimmy Buffett, dear?”
After the band resumed playing, she joined Norm at a table next to the one where Melvin was sitting with his buddies. Suzanne waved a waitress over, then whispered something to her husband. Norm scowled and pushed his chair away from hers, bumping into Melvin.
“Oh, I think this is going to get ugly,” I muttered.
“What’s that?” Alejandra asked.
I pointed at Melvin, who had risen to his feet and was towering over Norm. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the noise of the band, but his meaning seemed quite clear by the way he slammed his fist down on the table.
As the singer belted out the last of the lyrics to “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” Norm stood and lunged at Melvin. By the time she got to the final note, the entire audience was staring at the fight breaking out, not at her. Once the music stopped, Melvin’s voice could be clearly heard.
“I know it was you, Norm. You killed Darren. And if you think you’re going to get away with it, you’ve got another thing coming. You strut around town like you’re the top dog here, but you’re nothing but a liar and a cheat. We all know what your nephew really gets up to when he’s out on one of your boats. You can be sure that the fish and wildlife warden is going to hear about that!”
Norm threw a punch, landing it on Melvin’s right cheek. Melvin staggered backward, his face flushed and his hands balled into fists. Before he could strike, two of Melvin’s buddies pulled him away. Suzanne grabbed Norm’s arm.
“It’s not worth it, darling. Let it go.” She added in a stage whisper that everyone could still hear. “This kind of thing won’t look good if you want to become mayor.”
Norm pulled his arm away. “Fine, let’s go.”
As they walked toward the door, Melvin yelled out, “And don’t think I don’t know about your role in that property deal, either. You and your wife are both going to end up in jail.”
* * *
Everyone at our table was dumbstruck after watching the drama between Norm and Melvin unfold. Leilani attempted to lighten the mood by telling us about what it was like to grow up in Hawaii, which was fascinating. Scooter tried to impress us with some random trivia about the Aloha State, which was a tad boring. And Alejandra told us the secret to making a great tamale, which made me wonder what we were going to have for dinner.
Finally, we
all decided to call it a night. While Scooter went over to see if Melvin wanted a ride back, I took a detour to pay a visit to the statue of Coconut Carl. I waited my turn while a couple of young guys downed shots of rum and rubbed Carl’s belly. From the way they were watching a group of attractive young women seated at the bar, I was pretty sure they were trying to enlist Carl’s help in successfully chatting them up.
It was times like this that made me so glad I was married. The thought of having to ever dive back into the dating scene made me shudder.
When it was my turn, I put my hand on the pirate’s stomach and whispered in his ear. “Coconut Carl, here’s the thing. I’ve got to give a speech at the FAROUT meeting this week, and I’m scared to death. I hate speaking in public. What if they boo me off the stage? What if I forget what I’m supposed to say?”
“Ahem, are you almost through?” I turned and saw a tourist holding up his phone. “I want to get a picture of my wife.” A woman stood next to him, grinning from ear to ear and holding two shot glasses in her hands.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I said. I turned back to Carl. “So, do we have a deal? I’ll rub your tummy, and you’ll help me out with the speech. I don’t really like rum, but I figure that part is just an old wives’ tale, right?” I looked Carl in the eye and rubbed my hand on his midsection three times in a clockwise direction. I stepped back. “He’s all yours.”
As I was about to join Scooter at the car, I saw Ben and Liam standing on the deck, engrossed in conversation. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to pop outside and have a quick look at the view over the water. And if I happened to overhear anything that could shed some light on the murder investigation, well, that would just be a bonus.
I leaned over the railing and watched fish searching for the morsels of food that people tossed into the water for them. The guys were so caught up in what they were discussing that they didn’t notice me.
“Come on, tell me the truth, man,” Ben said. “Did you get Darren involved in poaching?”
Bodies in the Boatyard Page 7
