The chief arched one of his bushy eyebrows. “Well, I suggest you find one that she’ll wear, or keep her indoors.” He looked at his watch. “Before I go, what exactly did this charm look like?”
After I described it and answered a few more questions about where it was found, he walked toward the door. He put his hand on the doorknob, then looked back at me. “Mrs. McGhie, can I offer you a piece of advice?”
I nodded reluctantly. When someone asks you if they can offer advice, it’s usually not something you want to hear.
“If you really want to be an investigator”—he held his hand up—“and I’m not saying you should pursue that line of work, then you need to be objective. I noticed there were people you didn’t have on your suspect list. Now, maybe that’s because they’re friends of yours or because you think they’re too nice to have committed a crime, but you can’t rule people out for those reasons.”
“Friends of mine? Like who? Do you mean Ben and Penny?”
“I don’t mean anyone in particular,” he said. “But we can rule them out anyway. They were both playing Mexican dominoes late into the night with a group of people.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. It had never occurred to me that they would be involved, but it was good to hear that the police wouldn’t be harassing them with questions.
As if he could read my mind, the chief added, “I would also caution you not to characterize the questioning of individuals as harassment. There are things you aren’t aware of, information you’re not privy to.”
“Well, you could be a little nicer about how you ask questions,” I said.
The chief rubbed his face with his hands. “Maybe you should just stick to this alien stuff. You actually have people in Coconut Cove convinced it’s real.”
My eyes lit up. “Really? Like who?”
“Well, my ex-wife for one. She reads your newsletters.”
“Is she the one who does paintings of fairies?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yep, that’s her.” He pointed at Mrs. Moto. “Don’t forget that collar.”
After he left, I sat on the couch and considered what he had said. Was it possible I wasn’t as objective in this investigation as I had thought I was? Were there other people I should have on my suspect list?
9
STAGE FRIGHT
“Well, here goes nothing,” I said as I pulled into the parking lot of the community center. “I really wish I hadn’t had those cookies before we left. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do great,” Leilani said, unfastening her seat belt. As we walked toward the building, she added, “I heard about how you handled Norm when he was making fun of you for believing in aliens. You weren’t a shrinking violet. You put him in his place.”
“But that was in the heat of the moment. There were only a few people there. There are over fifty people signed up for this event.” I gulped. “Fifty!”
I pivoted and began walking back to the car. Leilani grabbed my arm. “Wrong way, Mollie. Take a deep breath. You can do this.” She steered me toward the entrance while I tried not to hyperventilate.
A young man with spiky orange hair and an alarming number of facial piercings greeted us at the door. He was wearing a bright green T-shirt with a picture of a spaceship beaming a human aboard and the words “Pick Me” printed underneath. I had purchased a shirt just like it at the FAROUT convention last year for Scooter, but for some reason he never wore it.
“Are you here for the talk?” he asked.
“We are,” Leilani said. She nudged me. “Well, actually, I’m here for the talk. This lady here is your speaker.”
“You’re Mollie?” he asked. “I’m Simon.” He took my hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m so honored to meet you! I read your recent article in the newsletter about the alien abduction case at that marina in Coconut Cove. Whatever happened to the victim?”
“Oh, it’s a long story,” I said. “Suffice it to say, other issues came up.”
“I want to hear more about that,” Simon said. “I hope you’re going to cover it in your lecture.”
Those cookies were making their presence seriously known in my stomach. “Do you mind if we go inside? I’d like to freshen up before we start.”
I pushed the door open and darted for the ladies’ room. When I came back out, a small crowd had gathered around the registration desk. Simon was handing out FAROUT brochures and answering questions. He waved me over.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea before we begin?” he asked. “One of the volunteers also brought some chocolate macaroons. I can get you a couple of those too.”
Fortunately, I’m not fond of coconut, so it was easy to pass on the macaroons, which my upset tummy thanked me for. I took my cup of coffee and made my way to the front of the room, nodding nervously at the people sitting in folding chairs. I put my purse on the table next to the lectern and pulled out my key chain. I stroked the tiny Wookiee doll attached to it for good luck, just in case rubbing Coconut Carl’s belly hadn’t been enough to help me get through the evening.
“Everyone, take your seats, please,” Simon said. “It gives me great pleasure to introduce our speaker tonight, Mollie McGhie, who’s going to talk about alien abduction. Mollie is not only an investigative reporter for FAROUT but also lives on a sailboat and has plans to sail around the world with her husband. Maybe they’ll even explore the Bermuda Triangle.” Several people oohed and aahed. Simon smiled at me. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to answer questions about their planned voyage at the end of her talk.”
Leilani smiled at me from the front row and gave me a thumbs-up sign. I narrowed my eyes. Did Scooter have her on his payroll? Was she the one spreading rumors about Scooter and me circumnavigating the globe on our boat?
Fortunately, thoughts about Marjorie Jane sinking in the Bermuda Triangle distracted me from speaking to a large crowd. After explaining the signs that indicated that someone had been abducted, giving evasive answers to questions about sailing, and blushing at the loud applause at the end, I joined Simon and Leilani at the refreshment table.
“You did a fantastic job,” Leilani said. She fished a tea bag out of her cup and tossed it in the trash. “I didn’t realize that sleepwalking and bruises were signs that you had been abducted.”
“Sounds like we’ve got another convert.” Simon handed her a membership form. “You should join FAROUT.”
“I’ll think about it. Right now, I belong to a lot of organizations, mostly to do with sea life conservation. I don’t know if I can commit to another one just now.”
“Ooh…sea life conservation. My girlfriend’s really into that. She leads scuba diving tours and does underwater photography in her spare time. How did you get into it?”
“It’s kind of the same for me. My husband got me into it. He’s a marine biologist. He works at the Gulf Coast Turtle Sanctuary, and he’s an adjunct professor at the community college.” Leilani took a sip of her tea and smiled. “Some friends set us up on a blind date. I thought he was really smart and cute, and the next thing you know, I started volunteering at the same organization. I really enjoyed working with the nesting habitat project with him, and in no time at all, we got married.”
“How long were you dating before you got engaged?” I asked, wishing they had something to eat other than macaroons. Maybe I could convince Leilani to grab a bite to eat before we headed back to the marina.
Leilani blushed. “Only six months. It was love at first sight. My parents objected to us getting married so quickly. They said we didn’t have time to really get to know one another, but they were wrong. I couldn’t be happier.”
“Did they warm up to him after that?” I asked.
“Oh yes, especially once they found out he had a doctorate. They were very impressed by that.”
“Same for me and my girlfriend—love at first sight,” Simon said. “So what other organizations do you guys belong to? Maybe we’r
e all part of the same ones.”
“Well, there’s the Florida Turtle Trust, the Waterways Protection Society, and the Coastal Environment Action Group.”
“The Coastal Environment Action Group?” Simon frowned. “Aren’t they the ones who were responsible for sabotaging those boats in the Florida Keys last year?”
“Why did they do that?” I asked.
“There was a group of fishermen who were taking lobster out of season. They had already been investigated and fined by the authorities, but apparently that wasn’t good enough. These people are really hard-core. The-ends-justify-the-means type of group. They’ll do anything to send a message.”
Leilani shook her head. “That was all hyped up by the press. It’s run by a group of scientists who wouldn’t hurt a fly. In fact, they’d go out of their way to save a fly. Well, maybe not a fly, but dolphins and whales and that sort of thing.”
Simon pursed his lips. “Well, that’s not what my girlfriend says, but—”
My stomach growled loudly, interrupting his thought. “Leilani, do you mind if we get going? I’m starving. I really need to get something to eat.”
Leilani shrugged and mumbled goodbye to Simon. As we walked out the door, I remembered that I had left my purse by the lectern. Simon intercepted me as I went up front to get it. “How much do you know about your friend and her husband?” he whispered. “No matter what she says, the people who run the Coastal Environment Action Group are into some scary stuff. I’d be careful if I were you.”
Leilani called out, “Are you ready, Mollie? It’s starting to rain outside.” I pulled the car keys out of my bag and looked at my lucky Wookiee charm. I knew many members of FAROUT were prone to conspiracy theories. Maybe Simon was reading more into the group Ken belonged to than there really was. Or maybe Leilani and Ken were mixed up in something more serious.
* * *
I chowed down on a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake on our way back to the marina. Leilani swore she wasn’t hungry after eating macaroons at the FAROUT meeting, but I did notice that she helped herself to a number of my fries.
“So, what did you think of Simon?” I asked, hoping to maneuver the conversation toward the topic of the Coastal Environment Action Group.
“Nice guy,” she said, pilfering another fry. “Although I can’t say I liked all those piercings he had on his face. Looks painful.”
“It was quite a coincidence that his girlfriend and Ken have so much in common. Maybe you’ll run into her and Simon at some conservation meetings in the future.”
Leilani angled the air-conditioning vent toward her. “Maybe. Although Ken hasn’t been going to as many of those lately as he used to.”
“Does that have anything to do with the sabotage Simon was talking about?”
Leilani frowned. “Like I said before, that’s just someone trying to stir things up. Look, he cares about poaching and its effect on sea life populations, but he would never stoop to something like that. He’s an environmentalist, not an ecoterrorist.”
I stopped at an intersection and reached down to grab a fry, only to find that Leilani was holding the bag in her hand.
She popped one in her mouth, then stared at me earnestly. “Ken focuses more on educating the public about the dangers of big companies and developers. Their whole focus is on making money. They don’t care what damage they do to the environment. They’ll say or do anything to get around zoning laws and regulations, including trying to tarnish the reputation of people like my husband.” She crumpled up the french fry container and shoved it into the paper bag forcefully.
As we neared the entrance to the marina, I saw Liam standing on the corner having a heated discussion with a woman. He was leaning forward and jabbing his finger in the air repeatedly. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him backward, then ran across the street, her flowery dress flapping in the breeze behind her.
Liam stared at her retreating back, his face contorted with rage. She tried to open her car but dropped the keys on the pavement. She leaned against the car and put her head in her hands. Liam crossed the street, picked up her keys, and handed them to her. She looked at him tenderly as he wiped away a tear on her face.
“What was that about?” I asked as the light changed. I made a right turn into the marina parking lot and pulled into a spot.
“I don’t know,” Leilani said. “I think that was Fiona Anderson. She and her husband live in the Tropical Breeze condos.”
“She’s married?” I adjusted the rearview mirror to have a better look. Liam was holding the door open as she got into the car. “They seem kind of cozy.”
Leilani twisted in her seat to have a look. “Maybe there’s an innocent explanation.”
“Or maybe he’s a bit of a player. Did you notice how he was all over Alejandra at the marina potluck?”
Leilani grinned. “He didn’t have much luck, did he?” She grabbed her purse and the paper bag with her good arm. “Thanks for the ride. The FAROUT meeting was really interesting.”
“So, do you think you’re going to join?”
“I’ll think about it,” she replied. “Maybe when things calm down at work. I picked up a new client this week. He’s really demanding, and I’ve got a huge database project to complete over the next few weeks.” She opened the car door. “Hey, Ben should be done with the teak tomorrow. You’ll have to stop by and have a look. He’s done a great job.”
“Will do. I have to be out here anyway. Lots more work to do on the bottom.”
I watched as she tossed the bag into the trash, then made her way down the path toward the boatyard. As I backed out of my parking spot a horn sounded. I slammed on the brakes. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a dark SUV zip past me toward the back of the parking lot.
After my heart stopped racing, I continued reversing, making sure to keep an eye out behind me. As I put the car into forward, I looked behind me again. Someone wearing a dark hooded top got out of the vehicle and pushed through the brush that separated the parking lot from the boatyard.
I couldn’t imagine ever being in such a hurry that I’d walk through there at night. Not only would you get scraped by the thorny bushes, but you could never be sure if a snake or rabid raccoon were lying in wait. Any sensible person would take the well-lit path instead. Unless, of course, you didn’t want to be seen. Was that how the murderer had sneaked into the boatyard the night of Darren’s death?
10
HOW NOT TO CLIMB A LADDER
I decided to go to the boatyard early while Scooter slept in. He had been tossing and turning all night, worrying about the latest deal his company was doing. After taking a quick shower, brushing my teeth, and running a comb through my hair, I gave him a kiss on the forehead. He mumbled something that sounded like “more Cap’n Crunch”—probably a reference to the fact that we were still out of his favorite cereal.
Mrs. Moto lifted her head and blinked slowly at me, in that way that felines do to let you know you’ve been deemed worthy of being allowed to be part of their lives, as long as you keep their litter box clean and food bowl topped up.
She meowed softly, which I took to mean that I should pick up more cat food at the grocery store along with Scooter’s box of crunchy nuggets. I scratched her on the head as she nestled back into the crook of her second-favorite human’s arm. Of course, I was her number one human. That just went without saying.
Since Scooter wasn’t up to make me my morning coffee, I swung by Penelope’s. I chose a couple of pains au chocolat fresh out of the oven to go with my cinnamon spice mocha. While I waited for my coffee, I noticed a large poster advertising the upcoming annual Coconut Cove Boating Festival. It promised all sorts of exciting activities—sailboat races, concerts, a parade, and a pet-costume competition.
Hmm…I wondered if I could get Mrs. Moto to wear a Sherlock Holmes outfit. Or maybe dress her up as Miss Marple. No, that would probably be a mistake. Miss Marple was always knitting something. I could just
imagine the mischief she would get into if one of the props were a ball of yarn. Who was I kidding? We couldn’t even get her to keep a collar on. Wearing an adorable detective-themed costume was never going to fly.
Next to the poster was a sign-up form for a cake contest that would be taking place during the festival. I scrawled my name down. I was confident that my fudge chocolate cake was going to win first prize. Then I noticed who was on the panel of judges—Nancy. Knowing her, she’d probably accuse me of trying to poison someone with my home baking.
The sun was just coming up by the time I parked next to Marjorie Jane. I decided to sit in the cockpit and watch the sunrise while having my breakfast. I clutched my coffee cup and pastry bag in one hand and slowly climbed up the ladder, holding on with my other hand. When I neared the top, I reached up to grab the railing on deck in order to hoist myself up the final stretch.
Instead of feeling something metal as expected, my fingers encountered a damp and slightly squishy object. I jerked my hand back, then started to fall backward. I quickly seized the ladder with my other hand, causing my cup and pastries to plummet to the ground.
I cautiously peeked over the side of the deck to see what the dampness and squishiness were all about. Three tree frogs stood stock-still staring at me before making their escape via some overhanging branches. I breathed a sigh of relief. Tree frogs were a far better outcome than some of the other scenarios that had played through my head.
Unfortunately, my early morning wildlife encounter had resulted in a tragedy. I gazed down at my coffee cup sitting in a puddle of cinnamon-chocolaty goodness. This was not a great start to the morning. On the plus side, the pains au chocolat had come through unscathed, but they definitely needed caffeine to accompany them.
After tossing the empty cup in the trash, I trudged back up the rungs. This time I had learned my lesson—two hands for the ladder. I didn’t have a pail and rope to hoist my pastry bag up as Ben had suggested, so I did the next best thing and tucked the bag inside my shirt. Sure, it looked a little strange, but the boatyard was deserted at this hour of the morning.
Bodies in the Boatyard Page 12
