Murder at the Marina

by Ellen Jacobson

  “Okay, no more talk about snakes,” Captain Dan said. “Well now, missy, have you seen the rest of the boat?”

  “Not yet. There are more important things to worry about, like who broke into the boat and why.”

  “Oh, that? That’s nothing, probably just some of the high school kids on a dare. I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it, Mrs. McGhie. Now, why don’t you have a look back here at the aft cabin.” The captain slapped Scooter on the shoulder. “We menfolk are gonna sort out the paperwork.”

  Scooter grinned. He seemed to be having fun watching my reaction to Captain Dan’s patronizing comment about my pretty little head. Not that I didn’t like being told that my head was pretty. Given the perpetual frizzy state of my mousy-brown hair, it didn’t happen very often. But somehow I didn’t think Captain Dan was complimenting my efforts at trying to tame my unruly locks with hair straighteners.

  “Go on,” Scooter said. “The aft cabin will be our bedroom. You’re going to love it. It’s really spacious.”

  “Aft?”

  “Just walk through the galley to the back of the boat. That’s what ‘aft’ means—toward the back or the stern.”

  I thought about giving the boat broker a piece of my mind but decided I might as well see if the burglars had rifled through the aft cabin too. I wasn’t buying his explanation that a bunch of high school kids had broken in on a dare. How many teenagers carry around bolt cutters?

  Scooter called after me, “Make sure you duck your head.”

  “Too late,” I said as my head smacked into a low ceiling. After making my way through a tiny door suitable for Hobbits, I found myself in a cabin with a full-size bed against one wall and a small seating area against the other. What I didn’t see were any walk-in closets or dressers. Yet another thing to add to the list of complaints about Marjorie Jane.

  The cabin was neat and tidy. Nothing was out of place. Had the intruders found what they were looking for in the main cabin, or had they been disturbed before they could search this part of the boat?

  I made my way back through the galley, remembering to duck my head this time. I could have sworn I felt someone swat me on the butt as I inched into the main cabin. Captain Dan winked at me.

  Unaware of the captain’s flirtations, Mr. Oblivious glanced at me and said, “There, doesn’t it look better?” The cushions were back in place and all the items that had been strewn about the cabin were piled on one of the couches.

  “I guess so. But it is a bit dark in here,” I said. I pointed at the small windows set high up on the cabin walls. “Maybe we could replace those with some large picture windows to let in more light. And I bet a light-colored wallpaper would do wonders for those walls. All this dark wood makes the place feel so old-fashioned, kind of like the paneled den my dad had in the basement.”

  Scooter’s eyes got wide. “Wallpaper...picture windows...,” he sputtered.

  Captain Dan chuckled. “Never mind about that just now, missy. Why don’t you have a look at the V-berth? Scooter, go on, show her the V-berth.”

  Scooter opened up a door at the front of the boat and showed me a room that was shaped like the letter V. Yep, V-berth—another highly original name. The room was taken up by a large raised platform topped with dark-green cushions. I bent down to get a better look at the pattern, when I realized that it wasn’t a pattern at all—it was mildew. Gross. There were two floor-to-ceiling cupboards flanking each side of the berth. I didn’t dare open them for fear of what bacterial cultures I might find growing inside.

  As I was brushing a cobweb away from my face, I heard Captain Dan whispering to Scooter, “Let the ladies have their way when it comes to decorating. Your life will be so much more peaceful.”

  “But picture windows, wallpaper...” He was still sputtering.

  “Y’all will have plenty of time to figure that all out. Maybe we should go ahead and sign these papers now.”

  “Captain Dan, what exactly do these papers say?” I asked as I closed the door to the V-berth.

  “You know, standard stuff. Just a few signatures and a couple of initials, then this gorgeous little lady will belong to y’all,” Captain Dan replied. He sat and put a folder on the table.

  “Scooter, don’t you think we should talk about this a bit more?”

  Captain Dan opened up the folder and pulled out a stack of papers. “Well, little lady, I wouldn’t take too long. There’s a couple who are flying down from New York City tomorrow to see the boat and the phone’s been ringing off the hook. Lots of other people are interested in Marjorie Jane. If you don’t snap her up now, I can’t guarantee she’ll still be parked here on the lot. Um, I mean docked at the marina.”

  Scooter looked through the papers and then up at me with those cute little puppy-dog eyes. Okay, maybe he did need a new hobby to lift him out of his funk, but I wasn’t sure a boat was the best solution. Especially this dilapidated one.

  Captain Dan handed Scooter a pen. “And, it’s a heck of a price. You won’t find a better price on a boat like this anywhere. Captain Dan has the best deals in town, guaranteed!”

  Scooter hesitated. “I don’t think we can let this slip out of our fingers. You know we have the money from the sale of the business and from my uncle’s estate. Besides, I think it would be a nice way to honor my uncle’s memory. He always did enjoy sailing.”

  It was true; we did have some money in the bank, and his uncle always did talk fondly about his days sailing in the Caribbean. I suppose if you were going to have a midlife crisis, a sailboat was better than a bad toupee or a sports car.

  I sighed. “I guess it’s okay.”

  Scooter grinned from ear to ear. “It’s going to be great. Just imagine us out there on the water with dolphins frolicking alongside Marjorie Jane. Just the two of us.”

  The way he was talking about Marjorie Jane, it was more like the three of us. But who’s counting?

  “Fine. While you two do the paperwork, I’m going to go outside for some fresh air. It’s so stuffy in here.” I looked around the cabin again. “I really think some picture windows that we can open up to get a breeze in here would do a world of good.”

  Scooter turned red and sputtered again. I wondered what it was about windows that got him so worked up. Captain Dan distracted him by pointing to a spot that needed to be initialed.

  While Scooter was leafing through the paperwork, Captain Dan leaned back and looked me up and down. I was getting a little tired of how he leered at me. And Mr. Oblivious continued to be, well, oblivious. I knew his rather nerdy powers of concentration were what made him so successful in his line of work, but sometimes I wished he were able to pay attention to more than one thing at a time. Maybe it was a good thing we were getting this paperwork over and done with so we wouldn’t have to deal with Captain Dan much longer. And what made him so special that he could wear cowboy boots on the boat, but I wasn’t allowed to wear my flip-flops?

  “Come on by the patio later, around four,” Captain Dan said. “The marina hosts a barbecue every Friday. They’ll provide the hamburgers and hot dogs. All you have to do is bring a side dish or a dessert to share. It’ll be a good chance to meet some of the other cowboys and cowgirls who have boats here.”

  “We’ll bring dessert,” I said quickly. I always bring dessert to potlucks. Usually brownies. That way I know there’s going to be something decent to eat. One time somebody convinced me to bring a salad. Well, that turned out to be a colossal mistake. There were salads of every kind, but no brownies. Not even any chocolate chip cookies. No desserts at all. The worst potluck ever.

  I grabbed my purse off the table. “Since I don’t have time to go back to the cottage and make brownies, I’m going to see what I can find in town and meet you back here at the marina.”

  “Sure thing,” Scooter said while he continued signing papers and handing them back to Captain Dan. “Why don’t you pick up a bottle of wine while you’re out so we can celebrate?”

  I
looked around the cabin and sighed. I wasn’t sure one bottle of wine was enough to help me come to terms with the arrival of Marjorie Jane in our lives.

  I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO get back off the boat without breaking a leg or, at the very least, spraining an ankle. Okay, just do everything in reverse. Somehow, I managed to get both of my legs over the lifelines and was hanging on for dear life when a cat jumped up onto the boat, dashed past me, leaped back onto the dock, and darted off. I was so startled that I let go of the lifelines and ended up landing smack on my butt on the dock. Splinters in your butt are very awkward.

  “Are you all right, sugar?”

  I looked up and saw a woman, probably in her midthirties, staring down at me with concern. She was wearing a pink baseball hat with a long blonde ponytail pulled through the back and sporting a pink-and-white-striped T-shirt and pink shorts. Even her sneakers were pink. If I had to go out on a limb, I’d say pink was her favorite color.

  I’m not a big fan of pink. Don’t get me wrong—I like girly things, like facials and diamonds. But pink? Ugh.

  She held out her hand—bright pink nail polish, of course—and helped me to my feet. I stood and heard a rip as my jeans caught on one of the rusty nails sticking out of the dock. Great. Just what I needed. Splinters in my butt, a rip in my jeans, and a stupid sailboat as an anniversary present. Could the day get any better?

  “They really need to do something about fixing these docks. Someone could get seriously hurt one of these days,” she said. She had a sweet-sounding drawl that was far more pleasant on the ears than Captain Dan’s.

  “Yeah, don’t I know it,” I said, brushing dirt off my rear end. “My name’s Mollie McGhie, by the way.”

  “And I’m Penny Chadwick.” She pointed at Marjorie Jane, who gently bobbed up and down in the water as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And why should she? She had just suckered someone into buying her. “What were you doing on Marjorie Jane?” she asked.

  “My husband decided to buy her for me as an anniversary present.”

  She furrowed her brow. “He bought this boat for you?”

  “Exactly!” I said. “Who buys their wife a boat for their anniversary when everyone knows diamonds are a girl’s best friend?”

  “Well, diamonds are nice,” she agreed. “But what I meant was, why did he buy this particular boat, especially when there are so many nicer ones available on the market?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. I guess when Captain Dan told him what a bargain it was and that there were lots of other people interested in her, he figured it was too good of a deal to pass up. Plus, he’s been wanting a boat for a while and when our anniversary came up, it probably seemed like the perfect excuse to take the plunge.”

  “Did Captain Dan really say other people were interested in the boat?” She bit her bottom lip. “Did you sign any papers yet?”

  I hesitated for a moment and then said, “My husband is signing them now.”

  A loud cheer erupted from Marjorie Jane. I heard Scooter yell, “Whoo-hoo! I own a boat!”

  I sighed. “I guess he’s finished signing them now.” Penny continued chewing on her lower lip and looked at Marjorie Jane. My stomach started to churn. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know if I should say,” she said.

  “Please, you have me worried. What’s the deal with this boat?” I asked. “My husband can be impulsive at times. I really would like to know what he’s gotten himself into this time.”

  “Well, you have to wonder why the previous owners are in such a big hurry to get rid of her. They’ve priced the boat to sell quickly.”

  “Where are they now? Maybe I can talk to them and find out what’s going on.”

  “Easier said than done. After they sailed the boat over here from Texas a few days ago, they skipped town right away. From what I understand, they gave Captain Dan power of attorney to sell the boat. I guess that’s what he’s doing now with your husband—completing a bill of sale and transferring the title over to his name on their behalf.”

  “But why did they leave town? Why didn’t they complete the sale themselves?”

  Penny shrugged. “Who knows?” Then she smiled slyly. “Wait until Ned and Nancy hear about this!”

  “Who are Ned and Nancy?”

  “The Schneiders? You haven’t met them yet?” I shook my head. “Oh, well, they own the marina. They were already pissed at Captain Dan about the previous owners. They’re going to be livid when they find out that he helped them by selling their boat.”

  “Why would they be so mad?”

  “When they brought Marjorie Jane into the marina, they rammed into one of the docks, causing a lot of damage. Captain Dan told them not to worry, that they were good for the money. They believed him and didn’t get a deposit or credit card details. Then the owners left in a hurry, leaving a big unpaid bill behind, which they blame Captain Dan for.”

  I rubbed my temples. I could feel a headache coming on.

  “Hey, it’ll be okay,” she said. “I’m sure your husband knows what he’s doing. Has he restored a boat before?”

  I laughed. “Scooter? Restore a boat? Not that I know of.”

  “I’m sure he’s an experienced sailor, at least. He must know a lot about boats.”

  “He used to sail on Lake Erie when he was a kid, but that’s quite a while ago now. Does that count?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “I suppose he might be a little rusty. And what about you? Do you have much experience on boats?”

  I shook my head. “No. Marjorie Jane is the first sailboat I’ve ever been on.”

  “Goodness gracious,” she said. She paced back and forth on the dock. “Listen, sugar, there’s no way Captain Dan will let you out of this deal. I’ve known him for a while and with him, all sales are final.” She paused for a moment. “But considering you and your husband’s lack of sailing experience, not to mention lack of experience restoring older boats, I might be able to do you a favor and take her off your hands. I was thinking of getting another boat anyway. I always thought fixing a boat up would be fun. Marjorie Jane might be too much for the two of you to cope with.”

  “Really?” I said enthusiastically. “I’d love to get rid of this piece of junk.”

  She smiled. “Well, talk it over with your husband and let me know what you think. I run the sailing school here at the marina. You can find me on my boat, Pretty in Pink, on D Dock or just ask for me at the marina office.”

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate your help. I’ll give it a while before I talk with him about it. I think he’s a little too excited right now to see reason.” I reached into my bag and grabbed my phone. “Before you leave, let me take a picture of you with what hopefully will be your new boat, and not ours.” Penny stepped over to the front of the boat and smiled while I snapped a photo.

  “Hope to see you later, Mollie,” she said over her shoulder as she walked down the dock.

  I turned, looked at Marjorie Jane for what I hoped was the last time, and went in search of brownies. And wine. Scooter thought the wine would be for celebrating getting Marjorie Jane. I hoped it would be for celebrating getting rid of her.

  CHAPTER 3

  MY LITTLE SWEET POTATO

  AS I MADE MY WAY BACK down the dock, I tried to figure out the best way to convince Scooter that we should sell Marjorie Jane to Penny. Once he had his heart set on something, it was hard to get him to change his mind. I thought about pointing out all the things that were wrong with the boat and what a huge project it would be to restore her. Nope, that probably wouldn’t work. Scooter is one of those guys who loves the idea of fixing things up. Unfortunately, he’s not one of those guys who’s good at fixing things up. Just ask me about the time he tried to install a garage door opener at our old house. On second thought, don’t. I ended up having to park on the street for almost a year. It’s possible I might still be a little bitter about that.

  I reached the end of the dock
and stepped onto the brick patio area in the center of the marina. It really was a lovely spot. People were sitting at tables underneath large umbrellas. Some were chatting, others were reading, and a family with small children was enjoying ice-cream cones.

  At the back of the patio, nestled among some palm trees, were a few buildings painted in the bright, cheerful colors common in this part of Florida. I was pondering which was my favorite color when my phone beeped, alerting me to yet another text from my mom. She must have sent a dozen last night wanting to know who Marjorie Jane was and asking why Scooter was too cheap to get me diamonds for our anniversary.

  I really didn’t want to deal with responding to her just then. My mom doesn’t get the whole concept of texting and the fact that it’s supposed to be a quick, shorthand way of communicating. One time I texted LOL to her. She was perplexed for a week. I figured it was easier to send her a picture of Marjorie Jane. No words. No chance of getting drawn into a long round of back-and-forth texts. I attached the picture, clicked Send, and chucked my phone back into my purse.

  Enough thinking about Scooter, Marjorie Jane, and my mom. I really needed to get focused on my mission at hand—brownies. Normally, I bake my own award-winning, gooey, quadruple-chocolate brownies, but I didn’t have enough time to make them before the barbecue. I decided to pop into the marina office and see if they knew of a good bakery in town.

  The office was located in a small two-story wooden building. The white trim and shutters were freshly painted and contrasted nicely with the bright yellow clapboards. As I stopped to admire the colorful flower beds in front of the office, the screen door flew open and a ball of fur streaked past me, followed closely by a woman brandishing a broom.

  “If I see you in here again, you’ll be sorry, you mangy cat!” she yelled, waving the broom back and forth for emphasis. I jumped back quickly to avoid getting clobbered. Unfortunately, I stepped straight into the flower bed, crushing some purple impatiens under my flip-flop.