Murder at the Marina

by Ellen Jacobson

  “I do. You were my star pupil. Now, what about her dreams? Did she mention anything unusual?”

  “She sure did. I was saving the best for last. She says she has frequent nightmares. Last night she even dreamed that she was having a medical procedure in a dark metal room.”

  “Wow, this is amazing, Mollie. I’d have to agree with you. This is a clear-cut case of alien abduction. You write this up in a report, send it to the board of directors, and you’re a shoo-in to be the Federation for Alien Research, Outreach, and UFO Tracking’s investigative reporter! There’s nothing that Lola can do to top this.”

  After hanging up with Brian, I celebrated by eating my brownie. Not only was I going to beat out that vile redhead, but I was also going to use all my investigative skills to figure out who killed Captain Dan.

  I WAS IN SUCH A GOOD mood after my call, I practically skipped up the steps from the beach to the boardwalk. Scooter was flipping through some magazines at one of the patio tables. I sneaked up behind him, put my hands over his eyes, and said, “Guess who?”

  “Is that my little kohlrabi?” he asked as he pulled me onto his lap.

  “What happened to ‘sweet potato’? I don’t know that I want to be your little kohlrabi. They’re a really weird-looking vegetable.”

  “Your wish is my command, my little sweet potato.”

  “What are you looking at there?”

  “Oh, it’s a fascinating article on holding tanks. Doing something about our holding tank is on our project list. I was thinking that instead of a marine toilet, we might want to go with a composting toilet and get rid of the holding tank completely. What do you think?”

  “I don’t need to think about toilets. That’s what plumbers are for.” I opened up the box from Penelope’s Sugar Shack. “What happened to the rest of the brownies?”

  “Guilty,” Scooter said as he snagged another magazine from the stack.

  “Darn. I was hoping to nab another celebratory brownie.”

  “What are you celebrating?”

  I slipped off Scooter’s lap. “Long story. I’ll fill you in later. Suffice it to say, Lola is history.”

  MAYBE ONE BROWNIE WAS enough. Did I really need more celebratory chocolaty treats? Of course I did. I had a lot to celebrate. Besides, if I bought a chocolate bar at the marina store, it would give me a chance to question Nancy and Ned about Captain Dan’s murder.

  A bell rang as I opened the screen door. Nancy stepped out of the back room, holding a couple of large cans. “Hurry up, close that door. You’re letting flies in.” I shut it behind me, but not fast enough for Nancy. “Now look what you’ve done! There’s a fly next to my computer. Grab that flyswatter and get it.”

  “Um, I don’t see one.”

  Nancy pointed at the counter. “There. Right there. Are you blind?” All I saw were some large bars of chocolate next to a display of fishing lures.

  Nancy marched up to the counter, slammed the cans down, reached behind a vase of flowers, and pulled out a flyswatter. I stepped back. I had a feeling she could turn a flyswatter into a deadly weapon—not just against flies, but also against people who didn’t close screen doors quickly enough.

  “There. Got it,” Nancy said with satisfaction. She tucked the swatter back behind the vase and straightened up some brochures that had gone askew when she whacked the fly. “Good thing you’re here,” she said gruffly. “You forgot to sign one of the forms yesterday.”

  “I signed everything you asked me to. Maybe you forgot to give it to me.”

  Nancy pursed her lips. “I run a tight ship here. If you didn’t sign something, it’s because you forgot to, not because I didn’t give it to you to sign. Are we clear?”

  She didn’t wait for my answer. After placing the cans on a shelf, she walked behind the counter, adjusted her glasses, and pulled out a stack of papers from a file cabinet. She thumbed through them while I looked at the chocolate bars.

  “Those are homemade by a gal who lives in one of the old fishing cottages on Harbor Street,” Nancy said without looking up. “She makes all kinds. The dark chocolate butterscotch crunch is popular with the tourists.”

  Who was I to argue with tourists? I placed a bar next to the cash register.

  “Here you go. Put your initials here and sign at the bottom.” Nancy tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter while I scanned the form. The click-clack of her nails was distracting me from the finer points of what to do in the event of a fuel or oil spill.

  “Nice nails, Nancy,” I said. “The navy-blue color matches your shirt perfectly. And I really like the tiny white anchors on each tip. Where do you get them done?”

  Nancy stretched out her hands and admired the artwork. “I do them myself. It’s my Friday night ritual. I sit down in front of the television, watch my favorite shows, and give myself a manicure.”

  “You painted on those anchors yourself? I would have thought you’d need a nail salon to get that done.”

  Nancy warmed up to the subject. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. They’re press-on nails. They’re so simple to use. And if one falls off, you just press another one on.” She looked down at my short, unpolished nails with disdain. “You might want to think about doing the same.”

  I took out my wallet to distract her from my nails. “How much do I owe you for the chocolate?”

  After giving me my change, Nancy pushed the chocolate bar toward me. “Aren’t you going to try some of it now? You might like it so much that you’ll want to buy another one.”

  You don’t have to ask me twice to eat chocolate. I tore open the wrapper and popped a square in my mouth. “Oh, that’s delicious. I might need another bar.”

  Nancy watched as I broke another piece off. She reminded me of one of those cats that would stare at your tuna sandwich, slowly inching forward until it could steal a hunk off your plate. I was worried Nancy was going to grab the chocolate bar and stab my hand in the process with her nails. “Here, do you want—” She snatched the square out of my fingers before I could finish my sentence.

  The situation reminded me that I might be kitty-sitting Mrs. Moto sometime in the future when Sandy and Jack rescheduled their trip. “Do you have any cat treats?”

  The question brought a scowl to Nancy’s face. “Of course I don’t have any cat treats,” she snapped. “What does this look like, some sort of pet store?”

  I handed her another square of chocolate. Somehow, she managed to keep scowling even while eating chocolate. I didn’t think that was possible.

  “Nancy, I have a few questions.”

  “Electricity and water are included in the monthly slip fee,” she said. “If you need quarters for the washing machine and dryer, come see me.”

  “Good to know, but what I really wanted to ask was what you thought about Captain Dan’s murder. You know everyone at the marina. Who do you think could have done it?”

  “That sounds like a question you should be asking Chief Dalton, not me.” I waved a square of chocolate in front of her as an enticement. She seized it and shrugged. “Could have been anybody. He didn’t have a lot of friends, and he sure made a lot of enemies.”

  “You and Ned had some issues with him, didn’t you? I’m sure the chief has asked you where you were between six and eight.”

  Nancy took the chocolate bar from me and broke off not one, but two squares. “Like I said, I was doing my nails last night. Ned and I were both in our apartment all night.”

  I pulled the chocolate bar toward me. “Captain Dan sure was a real smooth talker, wasn’t he? I mean, look at Scooter. He managed to talk him into buying Marjorie Jane. I’m sure he pulled the wool over lots of people’s eyes.”

  “Well, that’s true. He sure suckered Jack in once.” I nodded encouragingly and pushed the bar back to her. She took another square. “He sold him a whole bunch of anchor chain. Convinced him it was stainless steel, the best money could buy. Turns out it was a bunch of junk. Most of it was rusted out. It wasn�
�t worth anything. Boy, Jack sure was mad. Captain Dan refused to give him his money back. He said that he sold the chain as is, and that Jack knew what he was getting into.”

  “Do you think that’s all Jack was mad about? It looked like Captain Dan was awfully flirtatious with Sandy at the barbecue last night.”

  “He was like that with all the women. I bet Sandy played that up to make Jack jealous. They’ve been having difficulties for a few years.”

  I thought about this while I savored some more chocolate. “You could be right. Sandy mentioned that she thought Captain Dan and Penny were an item. Did you know anything about that?”

  “When Penny first moved up here from Texas, they seemed to get along well, but then it was like things went sour between them. Can’t quite picture them romantically involved.”

  “Maybe things got real sour. I heard them arguing last night, and Sandy said she saw them have a big fight last week.”

  “Well, they did have a pretty big argument a couple of days ago. I could see them waving their arms. But I couldn't hear anything.”

  So much for that line of questioning. Just then Ben opened the door. He headed to the coolers in the back, grabbed a six-pack of beer and a bag of potato chips, and put them on the counter.

  Nancy shook her head. “I can’t give you any more credit, Ben. You’ve got to pay in cash from now on.”

  Ben pulled out his wallet and thrust a few bills at Nancy. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the money for both this and for what I already owe you.”

  While he was collecting his change from Nancy, I noticed that his wallet was crammed full of bills. Several even looked like hundreds. He snapped his wallet shut and stuck it back in the pocket of his cutoff jean shorts. He nodded at both of us and walked outside to the patio.

  “Nice to see Ben has some money for a change,” Nancy said, shutting the cash drawer firmly.

  I went to corral the last square of chocolate, but it was gone. Nancy wiped chocolate off her fingers with a napkin, crumpled up the bright-pink wrapper, and threw both in the trash. “Want another one?”

  After giving Nancy money for another dark chocolate butterscotch crunch bar, I was tucking it into my purse when the wrapper caught my eye. I turned to Nancy. “Weren’t your nails pink yesterday before you redid your manicure?”

  Nancy peered at me over her glasses. “Were they? I don’t remember. Close the door. You’re going to let flies in.”

  BEN WAVED ME OVER WHEN I came out of the office. He held up a can of beer. “Want one?”

  “Uh, no thanks. It’s a little early for me.”

  He chuckled. “It’s always five o’clock somewhere.”

  “Have you seen Scooter?” I asked.

  “He went up to Melvin’s Marine Emporium to get a catalog,” he said after taking a sip of beer.

  I noticed Ben was wearing another pirate-themed T-shirt. This one let me know that drinking rum before noon made you a pirate. I had the feeling this was Ben’s personal motto. He drained his can, then patted the chair next to him. “Come on, have a seat. I could use the company.”

  “I guess the events of last night have hit everyone hard,” I said, assuming that was the reason he was cracking open another beer. “I still can’t believe Captain Dan was murdered on our boat.” I pulled out a chocolate bar from my purse. “Want some?”

  “No thanks,” he said, much to my relief. “Not sure chocolate goes all that well with beer.”

  I almost unwrapped the bar, but decided I should save it for later in case there were any other chocolate emergencies. “You know, I’ve talked to a few people, and it doesn’t sound like too many folks are broken up by Captain Dan’s death,” I said, reluctantly tucking the chocolate back in my purse. “I was surprised. I thought the marina would be a tight-knit community. What about you? Were you and Captain Dan on friendly terms?”

  Ben’s eyes widened. “What exactly are you implying? I didn’t have anything to do with his death. Not that I could have anyway.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, noticing Ben reaching for a third beer. I thought about the brownie and chocolate I’d eaten earlier. I guess we all have our own vices.

  “I keep my boat out in the mooring field. You need a dinghy to get back and forth from your boat to the marina. When I headed back to my boat after the barbecue, my outboard engine was acting up. It ended up dying on me. I was lucky to have made it back to my boat, especially as I didn’t have any oars on board.” He added sheepishly, “I dropped them in the water last week. I wasn’t able to get the motor fixed until this morning, when Jack came out to help me.”

  “I didn’t see you leave the barbecue. What time did you head back to your boat?”

  “I don’t know. I guess around six-thirty. I don’t really pay much attention to things like that.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to get a slip rather than have to go back and forth on your dinghy?”

  “It would, but the rates are practically double. I’ve been out of work for a while and things are getting tight.”

  I thought about all the money I had seen in Ben’s wallet. It didn’t seem like things were too tight. “What kind of work do you do, when you’re not out pirating?”

  Ben smiled. “Pirating would be more fun, but it doesn’t pay as well. I work on boats. I’d been doing some work for Captain Dan. He bought old boats, fixed them up, and sold them, but that didn’t work out.”

  It sounded like all those home improvement shows I liked to watch. “Have you ever put picture windows in a boat? I was thinking that’s just what we need to brighten up Marjorie Jane. It’s really dark down below.”

  “Picture windows?” he asked with disbelief. Then he laughed. “Oh, I get it—you’re pulling my leg.” I decided not to mention the wallpaper. Ben’s eyes lit up. “Hey, are you guys looking to have anything done on your boat? It sure does need a lot of work, doesn’t it?”

  What was I doing thinking about making improvements to Marjorie Jane like picture windows and wallpaper? Someone had been murdered on the boat. We needed to get rid of her, not fix her up. Obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Just as I was about to tell Ben that I wanted to sell the boat, Ned walked over to the table and pointed at the empty beer cans. “Where’d you get the money for the beer? Next month’s mooring fees are going to be due soon.”

  Ben raised his can in a mock toast to Ned. “No, it won’t be a problem. I already settled up with Nancy for last month, and I’ve got stuff in the pipeline. I picked up a few gigs at the Tipsy Pirate. Plus, Scooter and Mollie might hire me to do some work on their boat.” He tried to high-five me, but fortunately Mrs. Moto jumped onto my lap and saved me from inadvertently committing us to having Ben work on a boat I hoped to sell.

  “Well, hello there, you pretty little thing,” I said.

  “Don’t let Nancy see that cat,” Ned cautioned. As he walked toward the office, he said over his shoulder, “You better not be joking about coming up with that money, Ben.”

  Ben reached over and gave the calico a scratch on her head. She purred loudly in response. “She’s a sweet cat, isn’t she? Did you know Jack and Sandy are selling their boat and looking for a new home for her? She seems to like you. Maybe you should take her. She’s a great boat cat.”

  Mrs. Moto looked at me and blinked slowly. I think she was trying to tell me something. What she didn’t know was that it wasn’t me she had to convince. It was Scooter. I turned back to Ben. “Yes, Sandy told me that earlier over coffee. I was surprised that they listed their boat with Captain Dan. Jack didn’t act all that friendly toward him.”

  “That’s true. Jack didn’t want to use Captain Dan, but when he heard that he’d managed to offload Marjorie Jane onto you and Scooter, he had second thoughts. He figured if Captain Dan could sell that boat, he could sell anything.” Ben started putting his empty cans into a plastic bag.

  “He did seem like a smooth-talking salesman. He sure fooled Scooter.”

  Ben turned
bright red. “Um, that’s not what I meant. I meant to say Jack was impressed that Captain Dan sold Marjorie Jane so quickly, not that he pulled one over on Scooter.”

  He got up and grabbed the plastic bag. “Uh...gotta go, Mollie. You’ll talk to Scooter about working on your boat, won’t you?”

  “Wait, Ben. You forgot a full one.”

  “You can have it,” he shouted as he ran over to the dinghy dock.

  Hmm. Ben giving away beer? Such a difference from yesterday, when he was happy to take a free beer from Captain Dan.

  CHAPTER 7

  NOSEBLEEDS

  “THANK YOU, SIR,” I heard someone say behind me. “We’ll be in touch if we need any more information.” I turned and saw Chief Dalton ushering a man out of the lounge next to the office. He caught sight of me, walked back inside, and shut the door. He wasn’t going to get away from me that easily.

  I seized my purse and Ben’s beer and pushed the door open. Mrs. Moto ran in and jumped on the windowsill. The chief wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He was stealthier than I would have guessed. There was a kitchenette at the back of the lounge. I decided to tuck Ben’s beer in the fridge and give it back to him later. I turned to close the door and saw the chief standing behind it rubbing his nose.

  “Oh, there you are,” I said. “What are you doing hiding back there?”

  “I went to get my briefcase off the table when you smacked into me with the door.” At least, I think that’s what he said. It’s hard to understand someone when they’re pressing a napkin to their face.

  “Is your nose bleeding?”

  “Yes,” he said. He arched one of his bushy eyebrows, then the other. Good. He still had full range of movement of the furry caterpillars adorning his forehead. He couldn’t be too badly hurt.

  “You should really sit down,” I said. He raised his eyebrows again. “You might be more comfortable sitting while I give you my report.”

  He furrowed his brow as though he didn’t understand what I was saying. Blood loss will do that to you.