No More Time

by Suzanne Trauth

  Then footsteps receded as Sam walked away from us, moved onto the dock, and disappeared. I waited a couple of minutes in case he changed his mind and reappeared. Jackson had closed his eyes, his breathing even. He was falling asleep. I nudged him gently.

  “Wha—?” He sat up.

  “The coast is clear.”

  He yawned. “That was fun.”

  Seriously? “We can go now.”

  “Great. ’Cause I’m starved. Nothing but frozen dinners here.” Jackson hauled himself out of the captain’s chair and stretched. “Vinnie kept the bar stocked. Food? Not so much.”

  I shuddered, a tingling running down my arms. It wasn’t the cool night air. “Vinnie didn’t cook, did he?”

  “Nah. In the old days, when we were out on the JV between charters, if I didn’t fix something for us, we’d go hungry. Once he didn’t eat for twenty-four hours because—”

  I yanked on Jackson’s arm. “I think I know where Vinnie stashed the book.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Let’s go.” I darted to the door of the lower deck. I was operating on instincts that had proven fairly reliable in previous investigations.

  “We searched all over down there. You said it yourself. The book is not in the cabin,” he complained.

  “Come on, Jackson. Man up,” I said.

  He reluctantly unlocked the door. I hurried down the stairs and tripped on the bottom step. “Oof,” I said as I fell forward.

  Jackson caught me from behind.

  “If Vinnie didn’t cook—”

  “Never,” Jackson said firmly.

  “Then why does he have a set of cookbooks stashed in the cupboard?” I asked.

  “What cookbooks?”

  “You looked in the appliances and cupboards on the right side. I took the left,” I explained.

  Jackson flipped on the light in the galley.

  “I didn’t think anything of it. Lots of people have cookbooks they never use, so I didn’t open them. But if Vinnie never used the books, one might make a great hiding place.”

  “How? I don’t get it?” Jackson scratched his head. “I’m sooo over this book thing.”

  I walked to the cabinets I’d examined earlier. The last one on the left had a lower shelf of mixers and bottles of booze. The shelf on top had a collection of gourmet cookbooks. I knew them, all written by a French chef. I planned to buy a set for the Windjammer, but Henry would not be thrilled: too chichi for him. I dragged a chair from the dining table and clambered up. There were six books. I opened the first and fanned the pages. Nothing. The second and third were equally empty. Maybe my bright idea was just that. Then I removed book number four from the shelf. It was heavier than the others. My pulse zipped from zero to sixty. I opened it slowly, hesitant. There it was. A small black book embedded in pages that had been cut out to accommodate Vinnie’s prized possession. “Aha!” I crowed triumphantly.

  Jackson’s mouth dropped open. “Yo, Dodie. You are good.”

  I replaced the cookbook and climbed off the chair.

  “So what’s in the book?” Jackson asked impatiently, hanging over my shoulder.

  The cover was blank, the first page had nothing but dates: April 1– September 1. “That was the week before Vinnie died,” I said. I turned the first page. It was a list of names. I flipped through the pages. More names. And addresses.

  “Who are they?” asked Jackson.

  “I don’t know. They were important to Vinnie.” The list stopped halfway through the book—I estimated a hundred names. “Let’s get out of here before Sam comes back.” I stuffed the black book into my bag.

  “What’re you going to do with it?” Jackson flicked off lights and locked the door.

  “Figure out what they all have in common.”

  “How will you do that?” Jackson asked, baffled.

  “I have a secret weapon.”

  15

  As we raced down the dock, I formulated my plan. Both Jackson and I needed to eat, so a quick stop at the Sandbar for takeout would work. Then home to study the black book and contact Pauli. He would no doubt have some theories on how to translate Vinnie’s list into usable intel. At least I hoped so. I hadn’t heard from Bill, though I knew he was busy rescuing his beloved BMW. I wanted to share my findings with him…Vinnie’s address, my trip to the warehouse, the black book…but I knew he’d insist I speak with the Candle Beach police. I wasn’t ready to surrender to them yet.

  We were about to enter the restaurant when my cell pinged. Lola: where are u? come to hotel …cast pool party…drinks and food…whole Etonville gang here. some night! I wasn’t up for an ELT cast party, especially one that featured folks in bathing suits. Yet, the whole Etonville gang meant that Pauli would be present and we needed to talk. In person was even better than by phone.

  “I’m in,” Jackson said when he heard the invitation.

  “Don’t you have to get up early?” I asked.

  “Sounds like a good party.”

  Jackson hated to miss a good party. While we discussed his social life, my cell rang. “Dodie?”

  “Bill! Where have you been?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “I’ve been worried sick.”

  “You would not believe this. I have my car back.” He was so excited it was touching.

  “You what?” I played along.

  “It’s a long story and I want to tell you everything. Where are you?” he asked.

  “On the boardwalk. I’ll be home in ten.”

  “No, I’ll come to you,” he said.

  Ever the good sport, and being in a terrific mood, he agreed to join the festivities at the Windward Hotel. I offered to skip the cast party. Bill insisted we attend. I’d have to find a moment to pull Pauli aside…

  * * * *

  “Whoa!” Jackson ducked as a tsunami of water splashed out of the pool and onto the table and chairs where he, Lola, Carol, Edna, Penny, and I were sitting. “Crazy, dude,” he said to Romeo who surfaced, grinning, after his cannonball dive. The hotel management had graciously set up a banquet table for pizza and a portable bar, making the atmosphere decidedly convivial.

  “Behave yourself or I’m going to issue you a 10-7,” Edna yelled to Romeo, teasing.

  Lola sipped her wine. “What’s that?”

  “Out of Service.” Edna gathered stray, wet hairs and jammed them back into her bun.

  “Some performance tonight,” I said to her and raised my wineglass in a salute.

  Lola, Carol, Jackson, and Penny joined me.

  “Walter loved the audience response,” Lola said.

  I glanced at Edna, who winked and grinned.

  “But you know Walter. He’s one part overconfident and two parts anxious.”

  “There’s a rumor that Maddy wanted to disqualify Sound of Music for that stunt,” Penny said.

  “Well, it was over the top,” Carol giggled. “I’ve heard of audience participation but…”

  “You see that guy in the house who tried to sing along with them?” Penny cackled. “Talk about NT.” She bit into a slice of pizza. “No talent.”

  “If they disqualify Sound of Music, they might also have to eliminate Arsenic,” I said.

  “Dodie has a point,” Carol agreed.

  “No way. The ELT never left the stage. As long as you’re onstage it’s legit,” Penny asserted.

  I wondered…

  The Banger sisters and Mildred glided past on inflatable rafts, holding hands to form a single float, oblivious to Romeo’s antics. “Whee!” one sister cried, as the group float twirled in a circle. They reminded me of synchronized swimmers in an Esther Williams movie I watched with my mom one rainy day.

  We applauded their efforts. Vernon, beer in hand, had dumped his hearing aids and opted for an inflatable recliner. Very high tech! He paddled by. �
��Going to rain tomorrow,” he warned us.

  It was nice to see everyone so relaxed, enjoying themselves. It had been a stressful week. Tonight’s pizza-beer-wine banquet was just what the thespian doctor ordered. As a bonus, they didn’t have to be concerned about performing tomorrow night. Only waiting backstage to see if their number was called when the awards were announced. “Where’s Walter?” I took a bite from my slice of pepperoni pizza.

  “He and Abby left to get something to eat on the boardwalk. They’ll be here later,” Lola said.

  Jackson rose to get a refill on his drink, Carol went into her hotel room to detach Pauli from his computer, and Edna scooted to the edge of the pool to dangle her legs in the water.

  Lola leaned toward me. “Jackson’s not too upset about the arrest.”

  “I think he’s confident now that he has this high-end lawyer. Still, they found the murder weapon in his backpack.”

  “Oh no! They did?” Lola choked on her wine.

  Oops. I let that cat out of the bag. “That’s between us,” I said in a hurry.

  “Got it.” Lola hesitated. “What was it?”

  “An ice pick. Vinnie had a punctured aorta.”

  “Dodie, that’s awful.” Lola was genuinely concerned.

  “I know. But there’s more…”

  Across the patio, Jackson waggled his beer at us—really at Lola—offering to get more drinks. I shook my head. She raised her glass in thanks. I noticed the interaction and made an executive decision.

  “Lola, hate to break the news, but I discovered that Jackson’s spoken for.”

  “He’s what?” Lola cried.

  “Pauli found the engagement photo in an Iowa newspaper,” I said gently.

  Lola moaned. “All this time he seemed so…”

  “Available?”

  Lola narrowed her eyes. “That’s it. I’m swearing off men.”

  I’d believe it when I see it. “Tammy Littleton.”

  “What’s she look like?” Lola asked tentatively.

  “According to Pauli, awesome,” I said.

  Lola pulled her hair into a topknot, slipped off her beach cover-up, and sashayed to the pool to drown her disappointment. Forty-five minutes since I spoke with Bill. What was—

  “Bill!” Lola gestured to him from the diving board where she was testing its springiness.

  He stood on the walkway leading to the patio and opened the gate. Bill looked sexy at any time of the day with his former-football-player physique—flat belly and pumped-up pecs.

  But now, tanned and tranquil, his upper arms testing the limits of his tight white T-shirt, his hair neatly combed… Yowza. He waved to Lola, and to the pool folks in general, accepted a beer from Jackson, and cut across the patio to my table.

  I pulled out a chair. “Hey, stranger.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed, then sat down beside me and took a long pull on his beer. “I missed you today.”

  My heart did a flip-flop. “Me, too. Can’t believe you got your BMW back. Thought by now it would be chopped into individual parts.”

  “I was lucky.”

  “I’ll say.” I smiled at him. “So…the state theft unit rescued your baby?”

  “Something like that.” His eyes glittered.

  Geez. He was enjoying this moment. “In good condition?”

  “Yep. A number of small scratches. Nothing like the last time you drove it,” he added wryly.

  During the run of Bye, Bye, Birdie. I decided to ignore his dig. “So no chop shop.”

  “Luxury autos are warehoused and shipped out. Africa is a popular destination,” he said.

  “Warehoused?” How much longer could I play this game? “In Philadelphia?”

  “Nope. Right here in Jersey.”

  “No!”

  “Yes!”

  “So the state cops found your car in a warehouse? And you drove it away?” I said.

  “Not quite that uncomplicated. Actually there was a raid and I—”

  “Dodie, come on in!” Edna yelled from the opposite side of the pool. “The water’s warm.”

  “I think I’ll pass,” I said.

  Bill whipped off his T-shirt, exposing his pecs, lats, and biceps. I normally took his torso for granted but it had been a long day. Smokin’ hot. Eyes surveyed his dive off the side of the pool and underwater swim to the diving board, where he surfaced and chatted with Lola.

  “The dude’s happy,” Jackson said and deposited himself in a chair.

  “He has his car back.”

  “Nice.” Jackson yawned. “I need to get some sleep.”

  I lowered my voice. “The car was in the warehouse where Tiny was arrested. The address of the warehouse was in Vinnie’s pocket, remember?” I said pointedly.

  Jackson stared at me. “You think Vinnie was in on the car thing?”

  “I don’t know. Why did he have the address?” I asked bluntly.

  The question registered with Jackson. “Whoa.”

  “Keep this to yourself. The black book too until I can figure it out.”

  “Aye-aye, cap’n.” Jackson saluted. “Got to hand it to you.”

  “Thanks. Now we need to clear you of the murder charge.”

  Jackson clinked his beer bottle with my wineglass. “That’s what my lawyer’s for.”

  I took a last drink. I needed to chat with Pauli and coax Bill out of the pool and into another venue…

  Bill and Romeo crept up behind me, lifted me out of my chair. “What are you doing? Hey! Stop!”

  They unceremoniously threw me into the pool, accompanied by the loud whoops and cheers of Etonville’s citizens. I went underwater, gasping, my clothes clinging to my body, my hair covering my eyes. I bobbed up, spitting water and spitting mad. Whose idea was this? Bill grasped me, coughing, hauling me to the shallow end of the pool, laughing all the while.

  I sputtered. “My watch!”

  “Waterproof,” Bill said.

  I scanned the onlookers. It was impossible to stay annoyed when everyone was thoroughly enjoying themselves, even if it was at my expense. I splashed water at Bill, then muttered, “Just wait…”

  Penny threw me a towel. “O’Dell, anybody ever tell you you’re all wet?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  * * * *

  I changed out of my wet clothes and tugged on a dry pair of shorts and shirt, courtesy of Lola’s wardrobe, brushing my snarled locks into a ponytail. I should have brought a bathing suit to the party. I borrowed her eyeliner and mascara and checked my reflection in the mirror. Thanks to my Irish ancestors on both sides of the genetic spectrum, green eyes gazed back at me. The sun had sprinkled additional freckles on the bridge of my nose. Bill said they were “cute.”

  I opened the door of Lola’s room, stepped across the hallway, and knocked on the door of Carol’s room. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to pry Pauli away from his laptop. He was posting things on Instagram for Janice’s benefit. “Pauli? It’s me,” I said hoarsely.

  After a few seconds, he unlocked the door. “Hey,” he said.

  The sun had done a number on him today—face and arms were bright red. “You need to put something on that burn.”

  “Mom gave me a hard time for falling asleep on the beach.” He stretched and winced.

  Oooh. I remembered those days down the shore as a kid. Trying to burn… Now it was all about avoidance and protection. “I need your help.”

  My request must have been enticing. Pauli lit up. “Sure.” He swung the door fully open and stepped aside.

  I glanced into the hall to confirm that no one was approaching. I could hear another round of cheers from the pool. Who got tossed in this time? I entered the room. “This is strictly hush-hush.”

  Pauli nodded solemnly. I didn’t need to remind him
. “Whadya got?” He was all business.

  I withdrew the black book from my bag. “This could tell us who murdered Vinnie,” I said. We stared at it for a moment.

  Pauli took it out of my hands and flipped through the pages as Jackson and I had done earlier. “Got it. Who are they?”

  “Here’s where your skill comes in,” I said. “I have no idea what this list means. Who these guys are. Why did Vinnie keep track of a bunch of names and addresses?” I didn’t need to mention that the murder victim also threatened to use the book for revenge.

  Pauli frowned. The wheels already turning.

  “Do you have a software program like you used in the past to find patterns in lists? I’d like to know what they have in common.”

  Pauli touched each page individually as if he was absorbing the names.

  “I have this feeling that these people are the key to Vinnie’s death. Find out who they are and we find out why someone wanted him dead,” I murmured.

  Pauli placed the book in his backpack. “I’m on it,” he said confidently.

  “I know you are.” I resisted the urge to hug him or kiss him or even ruffle his hair. That would not be cool. “Text me as soon as you find something out. Anything,” I added with a trace of desperation. “We’re about out of time.”

  Pauli jiggled his head and a hank of hair flopped over his forehead.

  * * * *

  The night was silent except for the creak of the rocking chair on our screened-in porch as I tipped it up and down. The mood was mellow—swimming, alcohol, and the recovery of one’s car made for a relaxing trifecta. Bill and Jackson were definitely chill; I was fidgety, my mind on Vinnie’s black book.

  “Hey, bro, super cool about your wheels,” Jackson said from his spot in the corner where he lounged on his sleeping bag.

  “Thanks. I’m really relieved,” Bill said.

  I was curious about Tiny’s involvement in the car theft ring, but I knew I had to tread carefully without giving away my knowledge of his involvement. “I guess you caught the car thieves?”