“Now, we don’t want your boat to be tacky. We want it to be romantic and classy,” she noted, stepping down the very red aisle of countless valentine’s candies, chocolates, decorations, and more.
“Well, what’s tacky and what’s classy?” he wondered, thinking that the splash of items on display all looked similar.
Cheryl rolled her eyes. “And this is exactly why I came along.” She walked over to one item that was a big red heart with a cartoon puppy dog in the center of it. “See this?”
“Looks cute,” he acknowledged.
“Cute, but tacky. No woman wants some big-eyed animal staring her down while she’s trying to feel romantic.”
Ben made an O with his mouth. “I think I’m starting to get it.”
“I think simple is better here.” She grabbed a small rustic looking pail from the shelf. It was decorated with a burlap fabric ribbon in a red bow. “Like this. I think we should go nostalgic.”
“It looks like a milking pail that a farmer would use.”
“Exactly. It smacks of nostalgia for the old cozy ways of farm life.”
Ben cocked an eyebrow. He would be the first to admit he was a huge fan of old westerns, but this? “Do modern couples look for the prairie life in their Valentine's celebration?” he joked.
Cheryl’s smile disappeared, and she scowled at him. “Of course. None of them would ever actually live on a farm, but they like the idea of it. Also, the little old farms in this area will have people in the mood for something like this,” she noted, holding the bucket up.
“So, a bucket?” he questioned.
“A bucket to hold the wine you’ll offer.”
Ben smiled, beginning to understand. “Ah, yes. I see.” He scanned other items. “Oh, and this.” He picked up a rugged looking wooden tray with side handles that reminded him of an egg crate, but just much shallower. “We tie some matching ribbon on the edges and can serve chocolates on it.”
“Or maybe cheese,” Cheryl enthused.
Ben snapped his fingers. “Of course! What a brilliant idea. It adds to the whole idea of a farm. Some fancy and rustic cheese to pair with the wine.”
“And some light crackers to go with it. The tourists will eat it up.”
“Eat what up?” a voice asked from behind them. The two friends turned to notice a tall man, almost as tall as the display shelves, standing before them in black slacks and a short black trench coat over a shirt and skinny tie. His hair was combed neatly to one side and his eyes twinkled with delight.
This was the infamous Leland Drouse who had come to town that past year to start developing a resort.
Ben unconsciously scowled, thinking of poor Hank. It was true they had no proof that Leland was pushing the old man out of town, but that didn’t mean Ben had to trust the guy.
Ben opened his mouth to tell the guy to mind his own business when Cheryl interrupted him. “Ben here is running a Love Boat during Valentine’s Day this year.”
“A Love Boat? That sounds nice. What exactly are you offering?”
Again, Cheryl answered for Ben. “He’s giving rides up and down the coast for couples. It’ll have wine and cheese.”
“It does seem like a lovely idea. Maybe I should get in on this business.”
“You wouldn’t be interested,” Ben muttered.
“Well, I don’t know about that. Why not let me decide for myself? Maybe, if all goes well, in future years you could launch the boat from the resort’s pier that I’m building.”
“The resort will have its own pier?” Cheryl asked, being polite.
“Oh yes. The hotel itself will be high up on the cliff over town.”
Ben nearly gagged to think of some monstrosity overlooking his sweet, little hometown. It would be an eyesore.
“There will be wooden stairs and an elevator down the cliffside right to a pier so people can go right out on the water.” He pointed at Ben. “Your little Love Boat idea would be the perfect addition for Valentine’s and maybe even year-round for honeymooners.”
“I bet,” Ben huffed.
The man slipped a hand into his inner coat pocket. “Tell you what. Why don’t you stop at my office and see me later today? We can talk about it and get you hired on as our official Love Boat man.” He produced a card from his pocket and practically shoved it into Ben’s hand.
Surprised, Ben cocked one confused eyebrow up, examining the card in his hand.
“I’ll be in most of the afternoon until around six. Don’t be afraid to come by. I’ll let me secretary know to simply usher you in.”
Ben was without words, unable to ask just why this successful businessman would suddenly and out of nowhere ask him to, “come up and see me.”
With that, the well-dressed man turned and walked off, a cheerful smile on his lips and a pinch of red in his cheeks from the winter air.
5
“Why, Ben, this is great news,” Cheryl proclaimed as they walked out of the grocery store with multiple bags full of items. Including the tray and bucket, they had a sack of ice, a few rolls of streamers for the sides of the boat, some elegant cardboard hearts, components to make an advertising sign, one bag packed full of cheese, and finally a large paper sack with bottles of wine.
“What is?” he wondered, huffing as he shifted the weight of the bags in his hands. Walking the few blocks back to the house was going to be a big pain, he realized. Cheryl had talked him into buying so much.
“Why, Leland’s offer, of course. That’s big news.”
Ben swallowed, holding back a groan at the fact she had brought it up again. “How is it big news?” he asked instead.
She blinked a few times as if she didn’t understand why he was upset. “Because you’re always trying to get into business endeavors. This time you have a huge opportunity to actually turn it into something.”
Ben’s shoes slipped on the ice of the sidewalk for a second, but he managed to catch himself. “I don’t see how,” he shot back.
Cheryl paused, turning to look him in the eye.
He stooped in place, almost slipping again. “Ack,” he grunted.
“Come on, Ben. As long as we’ve known each you’ve been looking for a big break.”
“I know that,” he complained, wishing she would keep walking so he wouldn’t have to continue standing there with all the heavy bags. She only had one bag and it was full of the light stuff. “And a big break will still come.”
She sighed, her breath coming out in a pillar of steam. “Darn it, Ben. This is your big chance. There isn’t a bigger businessman in town than Leland Drouse.”
“Exactly,” Ben huffed, starting to walk again. He was afraid he’d drop the bags and break all the bottles of wine. “He is a big businessman and I don’t trust him. We already suspect he may have something to do with Hank leaving town. Why would I suddenly turn around and start working for him?”
Cheryl began to follow him, shrugging. “Because, it would be your first consistent paying job in years, most likely.”
Ben stopped again, turning to glare angrily at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded to know.
Sighing, she rolled her eyes as if to say, oh brother. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, really. What was that sort of comment supposed to mean?” he barked, his own selfish pride bubbling to the surface. He knew, even now, that it was a childish reaction. Unfortunately, it was hard to pull back once his blood got pumping.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I promise,” she said, taking a step back.
“What then?” he asked, calming his voice only slightly.
“I know you have trouble being told what to do, being under anyone else but yourself when it comes to working. There isn’t anything wrong with that. My own dad refused to ever sell his carpet laying business to a bigger corporation, or merge with one because he liked setting his own schedule and his own business parameters.”
“See?”
&n
bsp; “He also stagnated in that work, never really progressing. All I’m saying is maybe this is a good chance for you to learn about business from someone who knows what they’re doing?”
“Someone who takes advantage of our friends and neighbors. Someone who wants to turn our beautiful little tourist town into an eyesore.”
“If not him, then someone else. Change happens, Ben. You can’t keep things the same forever.”
“And why not?” he asked, immediately feeling stupid.
“Because, that isn’t how life works, okay?” she groaned unhappily. “Seriously, sometimes I’m not sure why I bother even trying to help you.” shoving the bags in her hands into his arms, she threw up her arms in the air. “Here. Just take these down to the boat yourself. You clearly know what you’re doing without me. Good luck.” Turning her back to him, she began to march down the road.
Ben froze in place, feeling his stomach sinking inside of him. “I-I’m sorry,” he blurted out, instantly feeling horrible for yelling at his old friend and long-time crush.
“Are you?” she called back, waving him off.
Ben opened his mouth to call after her, to make her stop. He even wanted to run down to her and get on his knees and apologize for being so childish. Unfortunately, without dropping all the bags and breaking the contents, that wasn’t a viable option.
As he watched her disappear over the hill into the neighborhood, he felt like he might cry but shoved it down and continued onward toward the waterfront, trying to forget the whole horrible ordeal.
“Oh, crap,” Ben exclaimed, nearly dropping one of the bags as he was passing the local park. All the play equipment was covered in a blanket of fresh snow and none of the sidewalks through the park had been cleared, otherwise, it would have been much easier to cut through to the waterfront.
As it was, he was stuck walking around on the icy pavement and had nearly dropped something almost ten times now. It was only a matter of time before one of the bottles of wine shattered on the concrete, or the mini cheese wheels went rolling off in all directions.
The sound of a vehicle approaching made Ben stiffen. He knew he probably looked like an idiot trying to juggle all the bags at once. Maybe doing this whole Love Boat thing at all was one gigantic mistake.
Much like his conversation with Cheryl that morning. Why had he gotten so defensive when she was just offering some honest advice? If he ever planned on having a chance with her, he couldn’t very well yell at her whenever he felt bad about himself.
He decided then and there he would need to make a big apology later that day.
“Hey, Ben. Do you need a ride?” a voice came out of an open car window of the vehicle that had just pulled up along the side of the road.
Turning, he was all too unhappy to see Grey leaning out of his police cruiser, a big cheesy grin on his face with a sucker stick hanging out of his mouth like a candy cigarette. The twinkle in his eye made it look like he was enjoying the sight of Ben struggling a little too much. “Hi, Grey,” he said quickly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of helping him.
“You look like you’ve got an armful,” he noted, chewing on the sucker stick.
“You noticed that, huh?” Ben said sarcastically.
“Why don’t you hop in. I’ll give you a ride to wherever it is your going.”
“I’m good,” he lied, turning to walk away. The instant he did, he lost his grip on the plastic handle of one of the bags. Two mini wheels of cheese went bouncing out, rolling like race cars toward the nearest snow bank.
“You sure? It looks like you’re struggling,” Grey pointed out, laughing out loud.
Ben wanted to growl, to scream at him to get away, but as he watched the cheese wheels disappear into the snow, he knew he would be an idiot to refuse help. “Fine. I would like a ride, yes,” he gave in, waddling over to the car as Grey leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door.
Ben practically tossed the bags in and then ran to get the wayward cheese.
“Where you headed?” he called out.
“Down to the docks, I guess,” Ben said, digging the cheese wheels out of the snow bank and standing up.
“Ah, decking out your new boat? The one you stole from Hank?”
“I didn’t steal anything,” he insisted, tossing the cheese into one of the bags. “By the way, were you able to figure out why he was leaving?”
Grey sighed, dropping the class clown act for a moment. “Unfortunately, not. He was nowhere near the docks when I finally made it down there. I drove up and down all the main roads and checked all the exits leading out of town. Not a sign of him.”
Ben finally climbed into the car and shut the door. “Odd. I wonder where he went.”
“Ah, I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. He can’t stay away from his hometown forever.”
“I guess not.”
“So, what’s with the bags? Doing a little late Christmas shopping?” Grey joked once Ben was buckled in the car. “Because, you know the holidays have been over for two months, right?”
“Ha, ha, very funny, Grey. You’ll make a great dad someday.” Ben groaned at the police chief’s joke as they pulled out onto the road.
Grey smirked wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe sooner than you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“Oh, you know. I’ve been sort of seeing Cheryl for a while now,” he noted, bobbing his head back and forth and smiling like a loon.
“Seeing Cheryl?” Ben practically screamed. There couldn’t be any way that was true. Sure, he’d been over at the boarding house quite a bit. He and Cheryl spent a lot of time together going to the movie, dinner, out for coffee, the works. That didn’t mean they’d been dating, did it?
Or maybe it did, Ben realized. His mouth went bone dry and his stomach took on a sour feeling.
Grey had known about Ben’s fancy for Cheryl ever since high school, and he’d never once hesitated to try and get in between them, just as Ben and she were getting close. However, Ben always assumed it was simply another way to annoy him—not to steal her away.
Could it be true? Could the police chief and Cheryl really have gotten so close?
Was marriage really on the horizon?
Ben wanted to lean out the window and throw up right then and there.
“Come on, Ben. You know Cheryl and I have been a couple. We’re going out multiple times a week, and I know for a fact that you’ve seen me hanging out at the boarding house,” he teased.
“I’m not blind,” Ben snapped.
“Yes, sir. Pretty soon, I might be living right under that same roof with you guys,” he beamed proudly finally pulling up on the waterfront.
“Just dandy,” Ben complained, opening the door and grabbing his bags out as fast as humanly possible.
“Well, good luck with the boat. I’ll be seeing you around,” he paused, giving a smile and a wink, “roommate.”
Ben slammed the door so hard the snow that had collected on the roof of the car tumbled off in a clump. Grey gave a little wave and drove off. “Jerk,” he spat, wishing he could give the car the finger. Luckily, he didn’t have a hand free.
Shifting the weight of the bags, he waddled over to the shack and pushed his way inside, setting them all down in the corner. He didn’t want to chance trying to board the boat with his arms full and figured he could do it one bag at a time. He didn’t fancy falling into chilly ocean waters.
The little shack was freezing cold, the tiny wood burner in the corner devoid of any flames. A cot in the corner sat as a reminder that Hank had lived here until just that same morning. Ben hoped the old codger would find his way back to town soon, even if it meant giving up the boat.
Picking up the bag of wine first, he opened the back door of the shanty which revealed the boat bobbing in the water just on the other side. “Here we go,” Ben announced, stepping out onto the boat and feeling it move under his weight.
>
A brush of cold wind hit his face as he moved along the edge toward the top hatch. He figured the couples could either sit out on the deck or snuggle up down below.
Opening the hatch, Ben was about to step down in when his heart stopped in his chest.
His throat clutched up and he wanted to scream upon seeing the sight just below. Laying in the bottom of the boat with his eyes wide open and staring up into the sky was Hank with a kitchen knife sticking out of the middle of his chest.
Moored in Murder Page 3
