Bodies in the Boatyard

by Ellen Jacobson

  “That sounds like a long way off,” I said. “I’m not even sure when we’ll be able to get back to working on the boat.”

  “I hope the chief wraps up the investigation soon.”

  “Well, if he stopped playing with markers and took me more seriously, he might stand a better chance.”

  * * *

  After dinner, the three of us walked down to the beach. “We really have to do something about getting her a new collar that she’ll actually keep on for more than two minutes,” I said. We watched Mrs. Moto tap a crab on its back tentatively before retreating to a safe distance.

  I breathed in the salt air and enjoyed the cooling breeze coming off the water. “It’s so peaceful here. Why would you ever want to sell the cottage? Just think—could you have made a meal like that on board the boat?”

  “Maybe you have a point,” he conceded. “Hey, you never did guess what the mystery ingredient was. That means I win.”

  “Win what? I don’t recall making a bet.”

  “Sure you did. Mrs. Moto can back me up. You agreed that if you couldn’t guess what I put in the dish, you would be in charge of cleaning the bathrooms for the next month, including her litter box.”

  “I never agreed to any such thing.”

  “Mrs. Moto, do you hear that? My little panda bear is trying to get out of a bet.” The calico darted up to us and deposited a shell at my feet. Then she meowed loudly. “See, she agrees with me,” he said.

  “I went to the store and got you cat food. Where’s the gratitude?”

  We sat on a piece of driftwood and watched Mrs. Moto play with her seashell. “So what was it?”

  “Cocoa powder. I thought for sure you could taste the chocolaty flavor. It’s a Mexican mole sauce. Alejandra gave me her mother’s recipe.”

  “Well, you’ll have to make that again. It’s a winner.”

  “She gave me some other recipes I want to try out. How does pozole sound?”

  “It sounds like something I can’t spell, but I’m game.” I pointed at a young man with spiky green hair and a clipboard who was approaching us. “He seems familiar,” I said. I waved at the green-haired man. “Is that you, Simon?”

  He looked in my direction and returned the wave. “Hey, Mollie. Fancy running into you here.” There were two other people with him—an older woman with short blonde hair and a young woman wearing a baseball cap. All three of them were sporting fluorescent orange T-shirts that glowed in the moonlight. As they neared us, I noticed that their shirts featured a cheerful sea turtle holding up a sign urging people to keep the sea plastic-free.

  Simon put his arm around the younger woman. “This is my girlfriend, Fiona. I told you about her at the FAROUT meeting.” I did a double take when I heard her name. Nope, a different Fiona than the one Liam had been seeing behind her husband’s back.

  Simon pointed at the older woman. “And this is Connie.” I shook their hands and introduced Scooter and Mrs. Moto. Scooter extended his hand. Mrs. Moto sniffed their shoes. “Mollie is the foremost expert on alien abduction in the whole state,” Simon said.

  “Are we talking little green men?” Connie asked dubiously.

  “Well, some are green, but not all of them,” Simon said.

  Fiona smiled. “It’s something they’re passionate about, just like we’re into wildlife conservation.”

  “Well, to each his own, I guess,” Connie said. “But we have more pressing problems here on Planet Earth to be concerned with.” She gestured at the sky. “Before we start worrying about what’s out there, we need to fix what’s broken down here.”

  “From looking at your T-shirts, I’m guessing you’re worried about sea turtles.”

  “You bet we are,” Fiona said. “Did you hear there’s a resort being planned for this area? They want to knock down those cottages and build a big hotel, swimming pool, restaurants, and a spa. It’s going to destroy the delicate ecosystem here.”

  The older woman chimed in. “Sea turtles come here every year to lay eggs. It’s hard enough to protect their nesting grounds as it is. We don’t have enough volunteers to monitor and patrol the area. Imagine all those tourists swarming on the beach, shining bright lights, disrupting nests, and killing baby turtles. It has to be stopped at all costs!”

  Fiona touched Connie lightly on her arm. “Hey, you’re beginning to sound like Ken Choi.”

  She took a deep breath. “While I don’t agree with his methods, at least he’s making a stand. All we’re doing is filling out forms.”

  Simon shook his head. “Some might call his methods ecoterrorism.”

  Connie folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know where you’ve heard that, but it’s just not true.”

  “It’s not just what I’ve heard, it’s what I’ve seen,” Simon said through clenched teeth. “And I don’t want my girlfriend caught up in—”

  Fiona seized his arm. “Enough, you two. Let’s not lose sight of what’s important here—the turtles. We did a great job today talking to people about endangered species and handing out educational materials. So no more talk about Ken, okay?” Fiona stared at both of them until they mumbled their agreement.

  “We actually live in one of those cottages,” I said, trying to steer the conversation toward more neutral grounds. “What can you tell us about this proposed development?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t sell, no matter how much they offer you,” Connie said. “They’ll do anything to con you out of your property.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?” Scooter asked.

  “Norm and Suzanne Thomas. He’s orchestrating the deal through a shell company, and she’s buying up the property. It isn’t the first time they’ve done it. Remember what happened last year?”

  Simon and Fiona nodded.

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” I said. “She posted a listing of our house on her website and put an advertisement in the window of her office. If she were planning on having a shell company buy it, why would she do all that? Why wouldn’t she just present an offer from the shell company?”

  “If you just had one offer, you might not accept it,” Connie said. “So she pretends to be offering it to other buyers, but if anyone shows any real interest she doesn’t return their calls. She’s even gone so far as to have people pretend to be potential buyers and go to view the property. Then she tells you that the highest offer came from the shell company. You think she did her best to drive up the price, and you happily accept it.”

  “Wow, that sounds really complicated.”

  “She’s perfected her scheme over the years,” Fiona said. “She goes to a lot of trouble to make it all seem legit. She has professional photographs taken, puts listings on her website—”

  Connie interrupted. “Coconut Cove isn’t the first place she’s done this at, and it probably won’t be the last. No matter what it takes, she needs to be stopped.”

  “But wouldn’t people get suspicious if the same company kept making offers on neighboring properties?” I asked.

  “She sets up a number of them so it seems like a different one each time,” Connie said. “She’s also been known to get family members to buy properties, then transfer them to her later. Like I said, you should stay away from her. She’s a cold-hearted—”

  “You do realize she’s dead, don’t you?” Scooter asked before she could specify exactly what kind of cold-hearted person she had been.

  Fiona frowned. “No, I didn’t.”

  Connie shot her fist up in the air. “That means the resort won’t go ahead! Wait until Ken hears about this. He’ll be over the moon. Remember how he was saying just last week that the only way we could stop this development would be over her cold, dead body?”

  “Connie, come on, show some respect. The woman is dead. And besides, Ken didn’t mean it literally,” Fiona said. “We should probably head back now. It was nice to meet the two of you.” She bent down and stroked Mrs. Moto’s back. “Sorry, I meant the three of you.”


  I scooped the cat up in my arms. “Everyone loves you, don’t they?” As we walked back home, I asked Scooter what he thought about Ken.

  “He seems like a nice guy. Bright, obviously, and passionate about the work he does.”

  “Yeah, but do you think he could have killed Suzanne?”

  “How could he have? You’re the one who told me he had an alibi. Wasn’t he at a conservation meeting? Now come on. I’ll race you back. Last one there has to wash the dishes.”

  13

  SNOWBIRDS

  The next day, I headed over to Melvin’s Marine Emporium. It was a weekday morning, so I was spared Chad’s cheerful greeting when I entered. He was probably acing some sort of math test at school at this moment and trying to convince Tiffany to go out with him.

  I had swung by the marina first to get an update on when we could get back aboard Marjorie Jane. I almost hated to admit it, but she looked kind of lonely behind the police barricade.

  Ben was working on an outboard engine at the other end of the yard. After wiping grease off his hands onto his T-shirt, he told me that there hadn’t been any update as to when we’d be able to access our boat.

  According to my aspiring-musician and wannabe-pirate friend, Norm had been there earlier in the morning, enraged that he couldn’t get on his boat either. He had complained bitterly about the revenue it was costing him. Each day he couldn’t work on the boat meant another day’s delay getting her launched again and going out on charter trips. Ben wasn’t too impressed that Norm was more focused on making money than on the loss of his wife.

  With time on my hands, I decided to swing by Melvin’s to look at bottom paint. Scooter was busy with work again, which meant that I could focus entirely on the different color options available without being distracted by the latest three-for-one offer that they were running on something we didn’t need. I definitely knew we wouldn’t be doing Smurf-colored paint again. Despite my lack of fashion sense, even I knew that a bright blue keel and a red hull wasn’t a good color combination.

  As I examined paint chip samples, I saw Penny walking past a display of fishing tackle boxes. “Hey there,” she cried out cheerfully. As usual, she was dressed head to toe in her favorite color. Today’s outfit consisted of bright-pink sandals, a ballerina-pink skirt, and a floral-patterned top in shades of fuchsia and salmon-pink. “Come meet Alan. He just bought a boat from me, and I’m showing him all that Coconut Cove has to offer.”

  Her client’s dress sense was more muted—dark-gray shorts and a light-gray polo shirt with a yacht club insignia on it—which went perfectly with his bland features. He kept his eyes focused on the ground and mumbled hello when Penny introduced us.

  Turns out Alan already knew all about me. “So, you’re the gal who found the bodies in the boatyard,” he said in a quiet, monotone voice. He held up his camera and shyly asked if he could take my picture.

  I sensed a glimmer of excitement as he listened to my account of the two murders. For a brief moment he made eye contact, then looked away. He continued to ask questions, inching closer to me as I described the murder scenes while at the same time flinching as the details got gorier. He made me think of a timid little mouse who desperately wanted that piece of cheese despite the fact that it was sitting on a lethal trap.

  I had been constantly bombarded with questions everywhere I went in town. Printing up some fliers with all the relevant facts to hand out was starting to seem like a good idea. It got old repeating the same story over and over again. So far, I had managed to stay one step ahead of the reporter from the local newspaper and hoped to keep it that way.

  “So, if you had to pick one restaurant for Alan to try, which would it be—the Sailor’s Corner Cafe, that new Thai place, or Alligator Chuck’s barbecue joint?” Penny asked.

  “Oh, that’s a tough one. Why pick one? Go to the cafe for breakfast, Alligator Chuck’s for lunch, and have some Thai food for dinner,” I said diplomatically. “Scooter and I have done that before.”

  “That’s a lot of eating out,” Penny said.

  “I know, but sometimes we’re just too busy or too lazy to cook. We’re probably going to have to cut back on going out, considering how much money we seem to be spending here at Melvin’s.”

  Alan chewed on his fingernails and mumbled something.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  He shuffled toward me. “Do you ever order stuff online? There are some discount sites where you can get good deals, probably better than some of the prices here.”

  “We have,” I said. “But we like supporting local businesses when we can. At least, that’s the rationale we use when we eat out.”

  “As a local business owner, I’d have to echo that sentiment,” Penny said. She turned to Alan. “You do get a discount at Melvin’s for a limited period of time since you bought a boat from me. Plus, the poor guy has been through so much lately that anything we can do to support him is a good thing.”

  While Penny filled Alan in on more of the details regarding the loss of Melvin’s wife and nephew, I spotted Liam pulling up in front of the store in his sports car. Norm got out of the passenger side and marched toward the door. Liam pulled him back before he could open it. The two of them got into a lively discussion. Norm kept gesticulating wildly at the store while Liam tried to cajole him back to the car.

  Alan had crept up to the window and was snapping pictures. Norm caught him out of the corner of his eye, slammed his hand against the window, then pressed his face against the glass and glared at him. The photographer jumped back in surprise.

  “I wonder what that’s about?” I asked. “Why do you think Liam is trying to keep Norm from coming inside the store?”

  “I’m pretty sure I know,” Penny said. “Did you hear about Norm’s boat? The one at the public docks?”

  “What happened?” a quiet voice asked. Alan had managed to creep back toward us unobserved and was standing next to Penny, clutching his camera.

  “Well, someone vandalized it the night that Suzanne was murdered,” Penny said. “They slashed seat cushions, overturned coolers, broke fishing rods, used bolt cutters to break the padlocks on the lockers, and then threw everything they found in there into the water.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Alan asked.

  “Thankfully not.”

  Alan fidgeted with the strap on his camera bag, then asked, “Do they think that lady’s murder and the vandalism are connected?”

  Penny shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but there was a can of spray paint on the deck.”

  “What kind of message did they leave?” Alan asked, his eyes shining with excitement. “Was it like the one left by Suzanne’s body?”

  Penny shook her head. “No, there wasn’t a message.”

  “Oh, that’s disappointing.” He chewed on his finger for a moment. “I bet the murderer thought Norm was going to be on the boat and was planning on killing him and leaving a message before he had to flee the scene.”

  “Or it was just high school kids messing around,” Penny said dryly.

  While Alan considered this less-than-exciting possibility, the front door swung open and Norm charged toward Melvin’s office. “Get out here, you coward!” he yelled. “You’re going to pay for what you did!”

  Melvin came out of his office clenching his fists. “If you don’t leave my store at once, I’m going to call the police.” He looked at Liam. “Get your uncle out of here before he causes trouble.”

  Norm lunged at Melvin, but before he could land a punch, Liam pulled him back. “Don’t. You’ll just make things worse. There are witnesses.”

  Norm glared at the small crowd that had gathered to watch.

  Melvin crossed his arms. “You should listen to the boy, Norm.”

  “If anyone is going to listen, it’s going to be you,” the other man spit out. “How dare you do that to my boat? You’re going to pay!”

  By this point, Liam had lost all control of his uncle. Norm grabbed Melvi
n by his shirt. “You vandalized my boat! Do you know how much damage you’ve done? I’ve got one boat stuck in the yard, and now the other one is out of commission. Do you know how much business I’m losing?”

  Melvin shoved Norm backward. “You? You’ve got four boats, two of which are still operational. Remember when I used to have four boats? That was until all your dirty tricks caused me to lose all of them except Nassau Royale. Finally, you’re getting a taste of your own medicine. Whoever did it should get a medal!”

  Norm scoffed. “A medal? That’s rich.” He leaned against one of the display cases. He seemed calmer, but I was worried that it was only a temporary reprieve. “So how’d you do it?” he asked coldly. “Did you kill my wife, then destroy my boat? Or was it the other way around?”

  “Do you really think I would have killed Suzanne?” Melvin asked. “She was your wife. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Besides, I was at the Tipsy Pirate when it happened. I couldn’t have done it.”

  “Got anyone to back you up?”

  “Ask anyone,” Melvin said. “How about you? Got anyone to back up your alibi the night of Darren’s murder?”

  “Yeah, my wife. Except now she’s dead.”

  “I wouldn’t have believed a word she said.” Melvin walked over to Norm, clutched his arm, and slowly said, “You killed that boy.”

  Norm stared down at the floor for a beat, then punched Melvin in the gut.

  “Would someone like to explain to me what’s going on here?” a deep voice boomed out.

  The crowd scattered at the sight of Chief Dalton. Officer Moore ushered us outside while the chief dealt with Melvin and Norm.

  “Can we stop by the public docks, Penny?” Alan asked. “I’d love to get some shots of the boat that was vandalized.”