Murder at the Marina

by Ellen Jacobson

  “Look what you did,” she said, shaking her fist. She stared at the flower bed in dismay. “I just planted those, and now they’re ruined!”

  She glared at me over the top of her reading glasses without saying a word. I figured she was in her late fifties or early sixties, based on the wrinkles around her eyes and her laugh lines. Although in her case, I suspect they were more like frown lines. Unpleasant reminders of childhood popped into my head. My mom was the master of long, uncomfortable, silent stare-downs. Ultimately, I would confess to whatever it was that she thought I was guilty of, like polishing off the cookies she had been saving for her bridge group. Not that I ever did anything like that as a child, mind you. As the stare-down continued, I began to think that my mom was just an amateur compared to this woman.

  I wasn’t sure what made me more uncomfortable—her piercing blue eyes peeking out from underneath her immaculately coiffed hair, or how tightly she was gripping the broom handle. I averted my gaze and noticed she was wearing white capri pants and a navy-blue polo shirt with the Palm Tree Marina logo embroidered on it. A name tag that said “Nancy, Office Manager,” was pinned underneath.

  I’d read somewhere that if you use a person’s first name it defuses the tension. “This sure is a nice place you have here, Nancy,” I said. She continued to glare at me while increasing her death grip on the broom. I wondered who was going to crack first, the broom handle or me. Probably me.

  I decided to try a new tack. “Your cat’s awfully cute. What’s its name?” People love it when you ask about their pets.

  “That is not my cat,” she said. “Cats don’t have any business being here at the marina. Next time I see the owner of that vile creature, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.” Her eyes narrowed as she saw the mangled impatiens.

  “Um, sorry about the flowers, Nancy. I was just trying to get out of the way and stumbled. I’m a bit of a klutz.”

  She relaxed her grip on the broom slightly. “Humph. Well, accidents happen. Especially if you’re klutzy.” She inspected me up and down, pausing when she saw the rip in my jeans.

  I put my hand over the tear, trying to cover it up from her disapproving look. “Like I said, I’m klutzy. I ripped my jeans getting off our boat.”

  “Your boat? What’s your boat’s name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” Nancy said, tightening her grip on the broom again. I didn’t think the broom was going to live to see another day. “Did you dock here without getting permission first?”

  “No, the boat was already here,” I stammered. “We just bought her from Captain Dan. She’s the red boat on B Dock.”

  “You don’t mean that floating monstrosity, Marjorie Jane, do you?” I nodded, both in agreement to her question and with her assessment of Marjorie Jane as a monstrosity.

  Nancy started to sweep the area around the flower bed furiously. “That man, I swear, he’s always up to something. I’m going to wring his neck when I see him,” she muttered.

  “What do you mean, he’s always up to something?” I darted out of the way as Nancy swept the dirt back into the flower bed. She ignored me and kept sweeping.

  I tried again. “Listen, I just met a woman named Penny who told me that Marjorie Jane isn’t in the best shape. I’m worried that my husband bought a lemon. Do you think it’s possible that Captain Dan pulled a fast one on us?”

  Nancy snorted. “Whatever deal you made with Captain Dan is between you and him. I don’t want any part of it.”

  “Well, can you at least tell me a little bit about him? Scooter—that’s my husband—doesn’t really think things through before he buys something. He even bought a case of Elmer’s glue once because it was on sale. I asked him what he thought we were going to do with that many bottles of glue. He was at a loss for an answer but was still convinced it was a great deal. I’m worried that this is another one of his rash decisions. People have taken advantage of him before. I’d hate to think Captain Dan did the same thing.”

  Nancy stopped sweeping and looked at me with concern. “Oh, you poor thing. I know all about foolish husbands.” She paused before adding, “To be honest, I don’t really know too much about Captain Dan. He moved down to Coconut Cove about a year ago and opened a boat brokerage business at the marina. We lease him space for his office, and he keeps some of the boats he’s selling here at the marina. It’s purely a business arrangement.”

  She leaned the broom on the wall next to the office door. “Now, why don’t you come inside with me, and we’ll get you registered as Marjorie Jane’s new owners.”

  I wasn’t convinced that Nancy didn’t know more about Captain Dan, but I was relieved that she had finally let go of the broom. I followed her into the office, wiping my feet on the mat by the door first.

  Nancy sat behind a counter, adjusted her reading glasses, and tapped away on the computer keyboard. “It will be just a minute while I pull up the records, dear.”

  I thought I saw a faint smile when she called me “dear.” Maybe she wasn’t so scary after all. Turned out it was a short-lived feeling.

  “You didn’t track dirt into here, did you?” she barked, peeking over the counter at the gleaming pine floor.

  I gulped. “No, I wiped my feet on the mat.”

  “Good. We like to run a tidy ship. Being neat is a good thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Of course,” I said, while I thought about the fact that I hadn’t made the bed this morning and that the sink was full of dirty dishes.

  I looked around the room while she worked away on the computer. The wall behind Nancy was painted turquoise and had framed photographs of dolphins, tropical fish, and seashells on display. Nancy looked up from the computer. “Those are for sale if you’re interested. My daughter took them. We also have some guidebooks and nautical charts by the door. Those might come in handy, considering you just bought a boat.”

  I walked over to the shelves stocked with cereal, cans of soup, crackers, and other basic groceries that boaters might need. As I contemplated the mystery of canned artichoke hearts, the screen door opened.

  Nancy pursed her lips and glared at the entryway. “Is that you, Ned? Don’t just stand there letting all the flies in. Get in here and close that door.”

  A man wearing a matching navy-blue Palm Tree Marina polo shirt tucked into neatly pressed khaki pants entered and quickly shut the door. “What happened to the flower bed?” he asked tentatively, running his fingers through his gray hair.

  Nancy pointed at me. “That’s what happened.”

  He looked over at me and gave me a warm smile before turning back to Nancy, who was picking some papers off the printer. She stapled the pages together so firmly that I thought the stapler might break. She put the papers down and waved the hunk of metal at Ned angrily. “Her husband just bought that old boat, Marjorie Jane. Can you believe Captain Dan went and did that behind our back?”

  Ned stepped back to avoid being hit by the stapler. Nancy certainly had a way with office equipment and cleaning supplies. He rubbed his chin for a few moments. “But maybe that’s a good thing. We won’t have the hassle of trying to track down and deal with the previous owners any—”

  Nancy slammed the stapler down on the counter, cutting him off. “Never you mind about that. Shouldn’t you be setting up the tables for the barbecue?”

  Ned took that as his cue to leave, nodded at me, and scurried out the door.

  “I’ve got your paperwork for you.” Nancy motioned me over to the counter and explained the monthly rates and marina rules and regulations. She became quite animated when she got to section 8.1—pets must be on leashes at all times. I discreetly moved the stapler a safe distance away and filled in my details while Nancy quickly fired questions at me. “You don’t have a pet, do you? You do have a credit card, don’t you? Do you have loud parties at night?” I must have answered yes and no correctly, because she eventually handed me a copy of the papers and a credit card receipt.

  As I
opened the door, I noticed Ned setting up a folding table next to the grill, which reminded me that I needed to get brownies. I looked back at Nancy, who was busily tapping her perfectly manicured pink nails, each adorned with a white starfish, on the computer keyboard.

  “Do you happen to know a good bakery around here?” I asked.

  “Try Penelope’s Sugar Shack. It’s just off Main Street. Big purple awning. You can’t miss it.” She stared at the screen door, which I had left partially ajar. “Hurry up now and close the door on your way out. The last thing we need is more flies in here,” she said as she whacked one unfortunate victim on the counter. I’m surprised flies even dared to come into the office when Nancy was on duty. I don’t think I would unless I had to.

  As I walked across the patio, I noticed the cat that Nancy had chased out of the office sitting on top of one of the tables. Ned was scratching behind its ears to the accompaniment of a loud purr. He caught my eye and motioned me over.

  “Listen, don’t mind my wife. Her bark is worse than her bite. It’s just that she’s very, well, how should I put it...”

  “Organized?” I offered.

  “Yes, that’s a good description for it—organized.”

  I actually thought scary was a better description, but organized seemed more polite. The cat nudged Ned’s hand, reminding him that his primary duty should be ear-scratching, not chatting with people.

  “Sorry about that, Mrs. Moto,” Ned said. “Only a few more scratches, then I have to get back to work.”

  “Mrs. Moto is an interesting-looking cat.” I stroked her white fur while she purred approvingly. “I love the black rings around her eyes. And her black-and-orange patches remind me of a calico cat I used to have when I was growing up. Except my cat had a fluffy white tail, while this one doesn’t have much of a tail at all.”

  “That’s because she’s a Japanese bobtail. I think it’s kind of cute, like a rabbit’s tail.” Mrs. Moto meowed in agreement. “She’s such a sweet cat. Aren’t you, Mrs. Moto?” Ned gave the cat one last scratch on her head, picked her up, and set her on the patio. “Time for you to run along now before Nancy catches you out here.”

  Ned turned to me. “Do me a favor, will you? Don’t let Nancy know that you saw me out here petting Mrs. Moto. I think she gets jealous when I pay attention to her.”

  “No problem. Your secret is safe with me.”

  I watched the calico scamper down the dock while Ned returned to setting up tables on the patio. My phone beeped. Another text from my mom.

  I thought you said Marjorie Jane was a redhead. She has blonde hair in the picture you sent.

  I checked the picture. Sure enough, Penny was in the corner at the front of the boat. She must have thought that Penny was Marjorie Jane. I sent her a quick text before heading over to Penelope’s Sugar Shack.

  That’s Penny. Gotta go. Need brownies.

  BY THE TIME I GOT BACK to the marina, the barbecue had already started. I put my box of brownies down on one of the tables. I saw lots of different types of salads, but no desserts. People sure were going to be glad I stopped by the bakery.

  I saw Scooter walking down the dock toward the patio. I waved at him but he didn’t notice. He kept stopping and admiring each one of the sailboats along the way. It was bad enough that he’d paid more attention to Marjorie Jane than to me, but now he was paying more attention to all sorts of other sailboats as well. He was so lost in his daydreams that he bumped into me at the end of the dock.

  “There you are. I was wondering what happened to you. Great news—I finished signing all the paperwork, and Marjorie Jane is officially ours!” He grinned. It was a cute grin, and I really hated to crush his spirit, but he needed to know about Penny’s offer.

  “I know. I heard you cheering earlier when I was speaking with this lady named Penny. She seems to think Captain Dan did a number on us. Marjorie Jane needs a lot of work. She’s a major fixer-upper. It might be a little too much for us, don’t you think?”

  “Penny, you said? She doesn’t happen to be the sailing school instructor, does she?”

  “Yes, that’s her. Why?”

  “Captain Dan warned me about her. He said she’s been dying to get her hands on Marjorie Jane and will say or do anything to warn prospective buyers off.”

  “But she sounded quite sincere and she even offered to buy the boat off us.”

  “Well, there you go then. I bet she would offer a really low price and we’d lose money on the deal. No, I trust Captain Dan. Everything is going to be fine, you’ll see.” Scooter glanced at the patio. “There he is now. Let’s go say hi. I’m sure he’ll put your mind at ease.”

  Captain Dan waved us over. “Glad you could make it!” He turned to the couple standing next to him. “Let me introduce you. This here is Scooter and Mollie McGhie. They’re the proud new owners of Marjorie Jane. And this here is Jack Holt. Just look at those freckles on him. He looks like he swallowed a quarter and broke out in pennies.” Captain Dan playfully punched Jack in the arm as though they were best buddies.

  Jack pulled up the sleeve of his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt and rubbed his arm before shaking hands with us. “Why would you buy Marjorie Jane?” he asked in disbelief. He took the words right out of my mouth. Why would anyone buy that boat? Or any boat, for that matter.

  Scooter beamed. “I bet you’re jealous, Jack, that I snapped her up. Captain Dan’s been telling me that his phone has been ringing off the hook with people wanting to buy her.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows at the bearded man. “Your phone’s been ringing off the hook?”

  Captain Dan nodded. “Sure has. Captain Dan is the number one boat broker in all of Coconut Cove.” He inched over to the woman standing next to Jack, draped his arm around her shoulder, and winked. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  Jack stared at him. “That’s my wife, Sandy.” I wasn’t sure if he was introducing her to us or reminding Captain Dan whose wife she was. Sandy brushed her curly, silver hair behind her ears and smiled at us.

  The captain gave Sandy’s shoulder a squeeze and looked over at us. “She’s as cute as a calico kitten, isn’t she?” Sandy blushed, unaware that her husband’s stare had turned into a glare. She looked at Captain Dan wistfully when he took his arm off her shoulder.

  He reached into a cooler, pulled out a couple of beers, and offered one to Scooter. “Anyone else want one?”

  A young man tapped Captain Dan on the shoulder. He had a scruffy beard and long, greasy, brown hair tied back in a ponytail. When I saw the tattered shorts he was wearing, I self-consciously put my hand over the tear in my jeans, wishing I had been able to change before the barbecue. But while I was embarrassed by my ripped clothing, he seemed unfazed. I wondered if wearing a bright orange T-shirt that said “Trust Me, I’m a Pirate” and a leather cord with a skull-and-crossbones pendant around your neck was the latest in sailor chic. I really hoped not, because I didn’t think it was a look that Scooter could pull off.

  “I’ll take one of those,” he said, holding out a rather grimy-looking hand.

  “I can always count on you to show up when there’s free beer.” Captain Dan sneered as he handed him a bottle. “This is Ben Moretti. He lives on a sailboat out on one of the mooring balls. It’s cheaper out there than getting a slip on the docks. You’re always trying to save a buck, aren’t you, Ben?”

  Ben took a large swig of beer. “You know good and well why I’m broke.” He nodded at us, pushed past the captain, and walked toward the barbecue.

  Our boat broker shook his head. “Well, somebody’s a little touchy, aren’t they? Oh, I see Nancy and Ned over there. I need to have a word with them. I’ll catch y’all later.”

  Sandy gazed after Captain Dan longingly. Jack grabbed her by the elbow. “It looks like the hamburgers and hot dogs are done. Why don’t we go over and get some food, Sandy?”

  Sandy pulled her arm away from Jack and took mine instead. “Sure thing. Mollie and I will meet you g
uys over at the barbecue.”

  AFTER LOADING MY PLATE up with a cheeseburger and all the fixings, I checked out the buffet table, where everyone had placed their contributions. I bypassed the healthy-looking salads, opting instead for a large helping of baked beans and some corn on the cob. I snagged a brownie while I was at it too.

  Captain Dan sidled up to me. “You sure are a sweet little thing, just like those brownies. Go on and pass me one of those, darlin’.”

  I reluctantly put one on his plate. “Are you originally from Texas, Captain Dan?”

  “Sure am. Texan, through and through.”

  “You look so familiar. Did you ever spend time in Cleveland? Scooter and I lived there before we moved down here. Maybe we ran into each other up there?”

  “Nope, never been to Cleveland.”

  “What brought you to Coconut Cove?”

  “Um...I just wanted a change of scenery.” He winked at me. “I heard the ladies are real purty out here.”

  I was officially creeped out. I changed the subject. “Have you always been a boat broker? It seems like an interesting job.” It didn’t really seem that interesting, but one thing I’ve learned in my line of work is that people love to talk about themselves and what they do.

  “I’ve always been in sales,” Captain Dan said. He hesitated, then pointed across the patio. “Look, the gang’s got a table over there.” While he hurried off, I put another brownie on my plate.

  “THERE’S MY LITTLE SWEET potato.” Scooter pulled out a chair next to him for me.

  Sandy cocked her head. “Sweet potato?”

  “I think Scooter has a hard time remembering my name,” I said. “He’s always calling me these strange pet names. Lately, they’ve all been related to vegetables, which is odd because Scooter isn’t really a big fan of vegetables.”

  Scooter pointed at his plate. “That’s not fair. I’ve got some baked beans right here. Those are vegetables, aren’t they?”