The bag of wine slipped out of Ben’s hand and crashed down the side of the boat, disappearing into the ocean.
6
“Oh my, gosh! What happened?” Cheryl cried, running down the hill toward the scene of cop cars and flashing lights along the pier, her long red hair flying out behind her in the wind.
Ben sat on a pier side bench just outside of the cordoned-off crime scene, his head in his hands. Seeing Cheryl coming, he stood up.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt?” she asked, touching his arm and looking over him like a mother checking their child who’d just fallen down.
“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered. It was a lie. While he was completely physically okay, the image of Hank’s dead body—that bloody kitchen knife protruding from his chest—was seared into his mind for good.
“I saw all the lights down here and I was so worried something had happened to you,” she admitted, stepping forward and embracing him in a tight hug. Ben let out a little squeak as she pressed the air out of his lungs.
“Oh, sorry,” she apologized.
“No, it’s fine,” he said with a forced smile. Even with the horrible situation around them, some small deep-rooted part of him leaped for joy that she’d just hugged him.
“So, what is going on? Something with your boat?” she questioned, looking toward the crime scene. Nearly half of the local force was there, looking over every inch of the area for clues to what could have possibly happened.
“It’s Hank. He’s dead.”
Cheryl gasped loudly, throwing a hand up to her mouth. “Dead? You can’t be serious.”
“Unfortunately, I am.”
“How?” she asked, her eyes large and bewildered. She slumped down onto the bench.
Ben took a seat next to her and instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. What was he doing? Was he really holding her? “I was going to load up the boat with all the stuff you helped me buy,” Ben explained.
Cheryl’s white face went even paler. “Y-You found him?”
He nodded, swallowing hard and hoping to shove that horrible image of the dead body away. “I did.”
“That’s horrific. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, leaning in and hugging him again.
This time, he didn’t hesitate to hug her back. “He was stabbed. He had this big old knife sticking out of his chest.”
Pulling away, she looked him right in the eye. “You mean he was murdered?”
“That’s the way it looks,” he sighed, leaning back against the bench and tilting his head toward the sky. A dusting of snowflakes danced on his nose.
“For heaven’s sake, who would murder poor old Hank? What did he ever do to anyone?” she practically yelled.
“I don’t know, but I have an idea,” he admitted.
Cheryl leaned in close, placing a hand on his chest. “Who?”
Ben opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a shouting voice. “Benjamin,” the police chief boomed from behind the police tape. His eyes were piercing into them as he stepped out and walked up to them.
Cheryl pulled her hand away from Ben’s chest and slid away to the other side of the bench under the cop’s watchful eye. Why had she done that? Could it be true that she and Grey were in some sort of relationship?
“Yes, Grey?” Ben asked, standing up from the bench.
“You found the body?” he asked, his eyes darting between them suspiciously.
“Well, yeah. You were the first responder on the scene after I called. I already told you that.”
“I’m just clarifying.” He put up a hand for Ben to stay calm. “Now, what exactly were you doing when you found him?”
Ben rolled his eyes, having already answered these questions. Why was Grey going through all this a second time?
“Don’t sass a police officer. Do you want to be arrested?” he threatened.
Ben blinked a few times caught off guard. Was he serious? There had been plenty of occasions where Grey had jokingly threatened to take Ben down to the station. This time didn’t sound like joking. In fact, Grey sounded downright furious.
Ben glanced down at Cheryl and then back at the chief. Could it be that he had made Grey jealous? Grey Masterson of all people jealous of Benjamin Winter? It seemed like the world was turned topsy-turvy for a second.
“Answer the question,” the officer demanded.
“I was carrying a bag full of wine onto the boat. As I’ve told you already, Cheryl was helping me turn it into a Love Boat for the upcoming Valentine’s Day festival.”
“Were you here at all today, Cheryl?” he demanded to know, turning his piercing gaze on her.
“Me? No. I haven’t been to the waterfront at all today.”
The wrinkles around Grey’s eyes tightened. “Are you sure?”
Cheryl tilted her head, unamused with the line of questions. “Yes, I’m sure, Grey. I think I would remember my own day.”
He smacked his lips, satisfied for now. “And you were loading up the boat when you found him?” Grey asked Ben.
“That’s right. I was so shocked I dropped the whole thing overboard.”
“A likely story.”
Cheryl was instantly on her feet, standing next to Ben. “I don’t think I like what you’re implying, Grey.”
“Me? I’m not implying anything. I’m simply asking a few questions.”
“Well, get on with it then,” Ben snapped, agreeing with Cheryl. He didn’t appreciate the way he was being treated. He didn’t know if it was simply because Cheryl was acting close with him or if Grey was simply in total police mode because of the murder investigation, but the chief was being much ruder than usual—which was saying something for him.
If anything, it sort of scared Ben.
Grey wrinkled his nose in a sneer. “Did you touch the body at all after finding it?”
“What? No! Why would I touch a murdered person?”
“Maybe if you wanted to make sure he was dead?”
Ben hesitated. “I suppose that makes sense, but I was too shocked to do anything like that. Besides, he looked pretty dead to me, what with a knife in his chest and all.”
“I see.”
“After getting my bearings, I instantly left the boat and called emergency services. That is when you showed up.”
“Yes, I understand,” Grey continued, placing his gloved hands behind his back and rocking on his heels. “Now, one more question for you and then you can go.”
Ben sighed. “What?”
“Where were you this morning between the hours of seven and ten?”
Instinctively, Ben checked his wristwatch. It was only ten now. “Well, I was here with you the past twenty minutes.”
“Don’t get smart, Ben. It doesn’t suit you.”
Ben clenched his hands into tight fists. “If you must know—”
“He was with me,” Cheryl interrupted.
Grey’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “You two were together?”
“That’s right. I was helping him shop for the items for his boat.”
“Like I already told you,” he informed him, holding back a smirk of pride, knowing it would only cause trouble.
“But that isn’t all,” Grey insisted, holding up one finger. “You also came down here to the docks.”
“Yeah, sure, I did, but I was back up to the house at ten after seven. You saw me yourself.”
“That I did, but it still leaves those ten minutes unaccounted for.”
Ben let out a low sigh, a growl in the back of his throat. “Yes. I was down here helping Hank load up his truck.”
“Which leads me to deduce that you were the last one to see him alive.”
“Except for the killer, of course,” Cheryl added, defending Ben.
He was honestly surprised by her sudden sense of loyalty to him.
Grey’s eyelids fell to half-mast, unamused with the assumption. “Yes, except for the killer, of course.”
Cheryl wrapped one arm
around Ben’s. “Are you done with your questions, Grey? I’m sure Ben would like to get home and rest after this whole ordeal.”
Grey’s nostrils visibly flared, but he conceded. “That’s all for now, yes, but make sure you keep a phone nearby. I’ll have follow-up questions, you can guarantee it.”
With that, he spun on his heel and marched back toward the crime scene.
Cheryl squeezed Ben’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go home. You look like you could use some rest.”
7
“Here you go. This should help warm you up,” Cheryl said, handing off a fresh cup of coffee to Ben. It was the fancy stuff that cost twenty-bucks a bag instead of the usual cheap sludge she made for the residents each morning.
“Thanks,” Ben said, sliding further down into the floral-patterned couch in the living room. An oversized doily sat behind his head and his feet were in a hot bath. He felt sort of like a king with the way Cheryl was treating him.
She’d brought him right in, taken his coat, and ordered him to change into some more comfortable clothes. He’d obeyed, running upstairs to slip on a fresh undershirt, a form-fitting sweater, and a pair of black track pants. Upon coming downstairs, she’d had a hot footbath ready for him with Epsom salts.
She claimed it would help draw out the negative feelings he was having.
That was another thing he enjoyed about Cheryl. She had a mild new age streak that was refreshing compared to many of the more traditional beliefs held by many locals. Nothing wrong with it, he just liked the breath of fresh air.
Finally, she’d gotten him a blanket and a coffee. It was odd, but it almost felt like they were in a relationship—boyfriend and girlfriend and all that.
He’d instantly shaken off any notions like that, not wanting to jump to conclusions or get his hopes up. He was just happy to spend time with her, be friends with her.
Of course, the idea of her dating Grey was not his favorite and left a bad taste in his mouth.
They hadn’t talked about the murder or Grey’s strange jealous behavior at all on their walk back to the house, which Ben was overly grateful for. However, now as Cheryl took a seat next to him on the couch, he had a distinct feeling that she was about to broach the subject again.
“Look, I’m sorry about Grey,” she said as if she were responsible for a grown man’s actions.
“Why are you apologizing? It isn’t your fault he was being awful.”
She gave a timid shrug with one shoulder. “Sometimes, I think it is,” she admitted.
Ben sincerely resented Cheryl’s thought process in this situation. No woman should ever feel like they needed to take accountability for a man’s actions, no matter what their relationship might be. However, he knew calling her out on it wouldn’t help in the immediate future and decided to set her at ease instead. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” he admitted. “Grey has a big murder investigation on his hands now. That’s enough to set anyone off.”
“I don’t know. I can’t help but feel like there was something I did that might have pushed him over the edge a little—made him lash out at you,” she said, slumping slightly in her seat and gripping her hands together.
“It isn’t your fault how someone else acts. The only person you can be in charge of is yourself.” As the words left his mouth, he realized he sounded like his own mother who had passed away before he’d even graduated. He was positive she’d had this same conversation with him many years earlier when he had felt responsible for his alcoholic dad’s actions.
It wasn’t his job to control his father any more than it was Cheryl’s job to control Grey.
She was quiet, as if afraid to continue the subject. Maybe it was true that their relationship had gotten more serious and she didn’t want to hurt Ben. However, on the other hand, maybe Grey was imagining things were more advanced than they actually were.
There was only one way to find out.
Ben had spent the past fifteen years, ever since he’d met Cheryl freshman year, wondering if a relationship was possible between them. He’d never broached the subject because he enjoyed being friends.
However, if she really was in a relationship with Grey, he felt he needed to know once and for all. “You know, Grey said something that surprised me earlier.”
She looked up from her clasped hands in her lap. “He did? When?”
“Well, he spotted me walking down the street with all the bags in my arms.”
Cheryl bit her lips, a look of shame in her eyes. “Yeah, sorry about leaving you high and dry like that.”
“No, no. I totally deserved it. I was a big jerk. Acted like a real baby.” He sipped the coffee, hoping his apology was acceptable.
“Well, sometimes I think I should just keep my big mouth shut.”
Ben furrowed his brow. Setting the mug down on the coffee table, he grabbed Cheryl’s hands. “No, not at all. Your blatant honesty is what makes you so refreshing. I like that about you.”
She looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked. “You do?”
“Yep. Sometimes, a guy just needs to hear the truth,” he admitted, feeling his face growing warm. It was a combination of embarrassment for how he’d acted earlier and excitement at holding her hand. She hadn’t pulled away from him. Why would she? He told himself.
“You know, Ben, the only reason I even say things like that is because I believe in you.”
“You do?”
“You bet. You’re an idea man. You’re passionate about life, about doing something that is meaningful to you. I admire that.”
Ben chuckled. “Why? You’re the one running the successful boarding house.”
“I only took over because it was an easy way to fill my time and make some money. It isn’t as if this were my dream job or anything.”
He leaned in closer. “What is your dream job?” he wondered.
“Honestly? I don’t have one. You, on the other hand, are always taking risks—shooting for the moon. I just want to see you finally succeed in something and be happy.”
Ben was taken aback, not sure how to respond. “Why do you care about my happiness?”
“We’ve been close friends since high school, I thought,” she pointed out.
“That’s true,” he agreed with a smile. “I’m really glad we are friends.”
Cheryl straightened up. “So, what is this about Grey picking you up? We got sidetracked,” she pointed out.
“Oh, yeah. That.” His heart began to beat in his throat. Did he dare share what Grey had said? He’d already brought it up. “Well, he implied you guys might be getting engaged soon,” he spilled the beans, the words practically falling out of his mouth.
“He said what?” she almost screamed, jumping up to her feet and beginning to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace with a TV above it. “I can’t believe the nerve of that guy.”
Ben fought the overwhelming urge to smile, even laugh, at her reaction. It was better than he could have asked for.
Just as he’d hoped, Grey was full of himself as usual.
“So, that isn’t true?” Ben asked, wanting further details.
“Of course, it isn’t,” she insisted, stopping in place and looking at Ben.
“Well, he said you’ve guys have been going on a lot of dates. I mean, you two do go out a lot.”
“As friends. We are hanging out as friends,” she demanded, her voice in a growing rage.
“Well, Grey doesn’t seem to know that.”
“Oh, yes he does.” She pointed a finger at Ben, almost poking him in the chest. “I’ve told him this already when he’s made unwanted advances.”
This time, Ben couldn’t help but smile a little.
“I said I only think of him as a friend and have no intention of ever going beyond that with him.” She began pacing again, her jaw set and a growl escaping from between her teeth.
“It might explain why he was acting so irrational this morning.”
“That jerk. I was worried that I was s
pending too much time with him. Leading him on.”
“How would you be leading him on if you specifically told him you weren’t interested in dating him?” Ben wondered, already knowing the answer.
Moored in Murder Page 4
