“Looks like any other fisherman loading the boat,” Cappy noted. “Just an ordinary morning.”
Sadie nodded. Nothing seemed out of sorts as the figure made preparations to depart. What did seem out of sorts were the tiny footsteps against the tile floor. “Coco, get back in the tote,” she said, still looking at the screen. Light clicking sounds indicated the Yorkie followed Sadie’s instructions.
The figure detached the boat from the dock and slowly pulled out of the slip.
“Wait!” Sadie shouted suddenly. “Rewind a few seconds.” She waited while Cappy set the footage back fifteen seconds. Again the boat began to pull away. “There! Freeze it!” She leaned even closer. “See right there?” Sadie tapped the monitor with her index finger. “There’s a second figure alongside the boat.”
Cappy looked at the screen. “That big guy? I think that’s Bluto. He cleans the dock for me each morning and most evenings.”
Bluto? Seriously? Sadie almost burst out laughing in spite of the seriousness of her discovery in the tape. She’d been a Popeye fan way back, long before Popeye’s antagonist’s name became Brutus. Still, Bluto or Brutus, this was not who she saw on the footage. “Forward it a couple of seconds,” she said.
“There.” Cappy reset the time and then leaned in. “Wait, where did he go?” He set the footage back again, and then forward. “That’s odd. You’re right. He was there a few seconds before, but the dock is empty when the boat pulls away.”
“Exactly,” Sadie said. “And there’s something else missing too.” She pointed to a post alongside the boat slip.
Cappy nodded. “A fire extinguisher.”
“Right,” Sadie said, thinking back to news reports both official and unconfirmed. Blunt force trauma with something heavy but not sharp.
“What does that mean?” Cappy placed his thumb and index finger around his chin and slid them down as if he might be able to pull the answer out of his stubble.
“It means it’s not Bluto in the footage,” Sadie said. She picked up her tote and slung it over her shoulder. “And I think I know who it is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Tell me again.” Detective Martin leaned back in his desk chair and waited for Sadie to repeat the new information. “Wait. Let me get Sloan in here.” He walked to the door, leaned out, called the other detective’s name, and returned. Sloan soon entered and leaned against the wall beside Martin’s desk.
“I saw the footage myself,” Sadie said. “A second man got on that boat as it was pulling out.”
“On Garrison Quinlan’s boat,” Martin said. He leaned back in his chair. Oddly, he sniffed, looked around, and turned back to Sadie. “Maybe it was a friend.”
“Or a fishing buddy,” Sloan offered.
“I can tell you’re not taking me seriously,” Sadie said, noting both detectives’ lack of concern. “I’m telling you a second person slipped on at the last minute. It’s clear in the security footage. Even the owner of the rental business agreed with me. This was not a friend or a fishing buddy. This was someone sneaking on the boat.”
“The boat rented to Garrison Quinlan,” Martin said.
“Though Quinlan didn’t take it out,” Sloan interjected.
Martin waved a hand to stop the interruption. Sadie wondered briefly if Martin was cautioning the other detective not to reveal any new details—details she obviously would be curious to know.
“Right,” Sadie said, turning her gaze toward Sloan. “We determined that last time. GQ is not the body that washed up on the beach.”
Martin tapped a pen on his desktop, drawing Sadie’s attention back to him. He sniffed again, and Sadie wondered if the sniffing was some sort of nervous tic she hadn’t noticed on her previous visit. “We discussed that last time,” he clarified. “We didn’t specifically determine it.”
“Come on, Detective,” Sadie said. “I saw the police statement on the news, just like everyone else. The one you released to the press saying you suspected the body wasn’t Garrison Quinlan. You must know it wasn’t.”
“Suspecting and knowing are two different things,” Sloan pointed out. He glanced around the room as if searching for something. Sadie followed Sloan’s gaze, wondering what he was looking for. Suddenly a horrifying thought struck her: she’d set her tote bag down briefly at Cappy’s Coastal Cruises. It must have acquired some of the aromatic ambiance of the seaside business. Indeed, it did smell a bit fishy in Detective Martin’s office. She lifted the tote off the floor and placed it on her lap, wincing as the moisture seeped into her red gingham capris.
“Yes, technically, you have a point,” Sadie said, eager now to wrap up the conversation and remove her bag from the room. “And I understand that you can’t share inside information with me, even though I am helping you.” She tapped her fingernails on the desk and sent pointed looks to each detective.
The men exchanged glances. Sloan shrugged his shoulders, and Martin nodded.
“We’re very grateful for your help, Ms. Kramer,” Martin said. “Especially concerning the boat rental. We suspected the body might have fallen from a boat but not where that boat might have originated. Based on the rental being in Mr. Chalinder’s name, it does seem you found the correct location.”
“I’m not sure fallen is the operative term for how the body ended up in the water,” Sadie noted. “That sounds more like an accident than murder. And we are talking about murder.” Both detectives remained silent, but she knew they were all in agreement.
“Hopefully, we’ll know more soon,” Martin said. “We’ll have Mr. Cappy send the security tapes here, and we’ll watch the footage.”
“I think it’s just Cappy,” Sadie said. “He didn’t look like a Mr. Cappy to me. In fact, he looked like…” Her voice trailed off. There was no point in pulling a cartoon character into the mix.
“Mr. Cappy or Cappy, whichever,” Martin said. “In any case, we’ll have a look, taking your observations into consideration.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Sadie said. She beamed, proud to be of such service to local law enforcement.
“We do appreciate your insight,” Martin added. “You were at the dinner, and you saw many of the people in question, which we didn’t. And you’ve… er… followed up on all this quite… enthusiastically.”
Before Sadie could comment on Martin’s hint at her overzealous involvement, Sloan made a noise that sounded like a cross between a chuckle and a gag. He topped it off with a sniffling snort.
“Are you all right?” Sadie asked. So far only focused on the case itself, she took note of Sloan’s behavior for the first time, wondering if he might be getting sick or simply amused. Even worse, he could be reacting to moisture from the underside of her tote bag. She mentally kicked herself for setting the bag on the ground while at Cappy’s. Tempted to move the tote off her lap again, she refrained, for fear the motion would send another wafting aroma around the room.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Sloan said, clearing his throat.
“Well, I’d best be going.” Sadie edged forward in her chair, preparing to stand up. “Do you have any other questions?”
Detective Martin tapped his pen on the desk again and then shook his head. “No, not at this time. Thank you for the information about the security footage. I assure you we will treat it as important.”
Upon hearing the word treat, Sadie tried to grasp the top of her bag but wasn’t quick enough. Before she could draw the sides together, Coco’s head popped out, accompanied by an exponentially increased dose of Eau de Fish. To Sadie’s horror, as well as that of both detectives, the petite canine hopped out of the tote and onto Martin’s desk, dropping a sardine from her mouth like a benevolent Santa Yorkie. Proud of her gift, she nudged the fish forward with her nose until it reached the other side of the desk and fell into Detective Martin’s lap.
“Oh my!” Sadie jumped up from her seat and gathered a rather pungent Coco into her arms. She debated an attempt to retrieve the wayward f
ish but thought better of it. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, looking from one stunned face to the other.
“It’s… all right,” Detective Martin said, his tone indicating quite the opposite.
“Really, I do apologize!” Sadie said. As she placed the mischievous Yorkie firmly inside the tote, she decided it best not to mention two additional sardines she spied stuck to the interior of the bag. “Will there be anything else you need from me today?”
“Definitely not at the moment,” Martin said dryly.
“Then I think this is my cue to leave,” Sadie said. Hearing no argument to the contrary from either detective, Sadie excused herself, leaving Sloan pinching his nose and Martin reaching tentatively into his lap. She raced through the precinct, earning glares from several desk officers along the way. Once outside, she reluctantly placed the pungent tote bag on the floor of the car, rolled all the windows down, and high-tailed it back to the hotel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Imagine that,” Sadie said. “Housekeeping not wanting to clean that tote bag.” Both Sadie and Myrtle sat on a bench next to Surf ’N Sorbet, enjoying the flavor of the day: Surf ‘N Raspberry.
Myrtle nodded. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”
“Certainly,” Sadie agreed, though she was hard-pressed to think of what could upstage a stinky, sardine-laden tote bag. It definitely didn’t fall under any of the regular categories on the guest laundry sheet. Shirts, trousers, even underwear—all accepted. But nothing on the list came close to what she’d tried to hand over to the front desk.
“Perhaps if you’d taken the sardines out first,” Myrtle suggested.
Sadie dipped her spoon into a cup of sorbet and nodded. “I suppose that might have helped.” She closed her eyes and sighed. This was the best flavor yet from the boardwalk kiosk.
“I doubt it helped that you set it on the front desk while guests were checking in.”
“You do have a point there.” Sadie had thought for a brief moment that she was about to be physically removed from the lobby.
“How did you find the groomer?” Myrtle asked. “It’s a wonder they were able to take Coco in at such short notice.
“The front desk manager called them and arranged it.”
Myrtle chuckled. “Probably to get you out of the hotel quickly.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sadie said, also laughing. “I won’t get the tote back until late today.”
“You’re lucky the dry cleaners even took it,” Myrtle said.
“Well, they weren’t too thrilled about it,” Sadie admitted. “And they’re charging me a rush fee and a special handling fee.”
“Still generous on their part,” Myrtle said.
“Coco will be ready in a couple of hours,” Sadie said. “Meanwhile… some retail therapy?”
“Why not?” Myrtle said. “We’re already here on the boardwalk, and you did have the foresight to take a quick shower and change out of those aromatic clothes.”
Finishing the sorbets, they tossed their cups in a trash can and headed for the nearest beach boutique, a strange little structure with an entrance that resembled a whale’s mouth. A row of sharp teeth extended from above, while paint boasted another row on the ground.
“At least we don’t have to step over teeth to go inside,” Sadie murmured as they made their way through the black-and-white-molded doorway.
“Welcome to Moby Chic!” The cheerful clerk behind the counter looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen. She wore a hibiscus-print sundress and boasted a dark tan that reminded Sadie of her high school days when slathering on baby oil and baking in the sun wasn’t unusual. Most people were wiser now, and Sadie suspected the girl’s tan to be sprayed on.
“I thought whales didn’t have teeth,” Myrtle said, looking back at the entrance.
“Some do, and some don’t,” the young clerk said. “There are two main categories of whales: toothed and baleen. The baleen whales, like the blue whale, for example, have more of a filtering system, while toothed whales like killer whales and beluga have teeth.”
“Let me guess,” Sadie said. “Not the first time you’ve been asked that question.”
The girl laughed. “No. Maybe the hundredth. And I’ve only worked here a few months.”
“I love your sundress,” Myrtle said. “The bright colors are cheerful.”
“We have them over there in several colors.” The girl pointed to a rack on the wall. “There’s a dressing room in the back if you’d like to try anything on.”
“I just might,” Sadie said. “Though I’m not sure about spaghetti straps at my, er… mature age.”
“Go look,” the salesgirl encouraged. “Some have wider straps.”
“This one does,” Myrtle called over, already looking at the selection. She held up a purple-and-fuchsia dress as Sadie approached. Inch-wide straps tied at the top in small bows. “And such a bright pattern, perfect for beachwear. Not my colors though.” She handed the dress to Sadie and rummaged through the choices, picking out a bright yellow seashell print.
“We have two dressing rooms in back,” the salesgirl said.
“Thank you,” Myrtle said. “I’d love to try this on.”
“Same here,” Sadie said, holding up the dress Myrtle had passed to her. Both women headed to the rear of the store, pleased to find the dressing rooms side by side. A rustling of fabric followed as they tossed off clothing and hung it on seahorse-shaped hooks.
“Love it,” Myrtle said, calling over the partition wall that separated the two rooms. “I have just the shoes for it too, gussied-up flip-flops with seashells on top.”
“Really? Where did you get those?” Sadie asked, her voice muffled from having her dress only halfway over her head.
“A few shops down. We can swing by there next,” Myrtle said.
“I’m in,” Sadie said. “You can never have too many shoes.” Even as she said the words, she thought of the overflowing shoes already in her closet at home. She’d been meaning to pack some up and drop them off at a local thrift shop for ages. Still, one more pair wouldn’t hurt. Or two, or three.
Armed with new purchases from Moby Chic, both women headed for the boutique where Myrtle had purchased her fancy flip-flops.
“Too bad these sundresses are too casual for tonight,” Myrtle said, her shopping bag dangling from her arm. “Or are they?”
“They probably are,” Sadie agreed. “Though I think cast parties tend to be casual. At least more so than the dinner was the other night.”
“Good,” Myrtle said. “That was a crazy scene. Still, tonight should be interesting. You expect Martin and Sloan to show up, right?
“Oh, they will.” Sadie laughed. “I’m certain they found the security footage Cappy sent over enlightening. In fact, I suspect Martin and Sloan will provide the main entertainment for this evening.”
“And make an arrest?”
“That’s my guess,” Sadie said. “I already know who I’d arrest.”
“My money’s on GQ,” Myrtle said as they entered the shoe shop. “If he’s not dead, yet he’s nowhere to be found, it does look suspicious.” She picked up a pair of purple water shoes, inspected the rubberized sole, and wrinkled her nose. “Not too stylish.”
“Agreed. But these are!” Sadie held up white flip-flops with multicolored rhinestones along the upper straps. “Look at all these sparkling colors. They’ll go with everything. And they have them in black too.” She grabbed a second pair. “I’m getting both.”
Hearing an incoming ringtone, Sadie placed the shoes on the sales counter and fished her phone out of one pocket while pulling her wallet out of another. She stepped away from the counter. “Hello? Yes, wonderful. I’ll be there shortly to pick her up.” She finished the call and returned to make her purchase. She’d always thought it rude when she saw people blabbing away on their cell phones while ignoring service personnel helping them. She’d vowed never to be that discourteous.
“Coco’s
ready to be picked up,” Sadie said after thanking the sales clerk for her help. “And the dry cleaners should be done soon too.”
“I’ll walk back to the hotel with you,” Myrtle said.
“Nothing here you want?” Sadie said. “I can wait.”
Myrtle chuckled. “The ones I told you about aren’t the only pair I bought.”
“Three?” Sadie guessed. “Four?”
“Six.” Myrtle grinned.
“Aha!” Sadie said. “I knew we were kindred spirits from the start!”
Returning to the hotel, the women parted ways after making plans to rendezvous at the cast party later on. Myrtle wandered off to see if the spa had openings, and Sadie headed out to pick up two freshly laundered items: one petite Yorkie and one sweet-smelling tote bag.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Gran Sala de las Estrellas looked especially festive, much more so than it had on the first night. Tables previously used for dining had been replaced by smaller tables located along the sides of the ballroom. An extravagant ice sculpture graced a champagne fountain in the center of the spacious salon. Tables on each side held crystal glasses waiting to be filled with the sparkling beverage. The area around it remained clear for dancing and mingling.
“They certainly went all out,” Myrtle said, looking around.
“I imagine they can afford it. This movie is set to break box office records, just like his others.” Sadie took in the expansive party setup, especially pleased to see a side buffet boasting miniflutes of varied chocolate confections, just the right size for… trying two or three? Possibly four? The servings were tiny, certainly not meant to be single servings. Like tapas but with more sugar. Instinctively she edged closer to the spread just to peruse the options: espresso mousse, mocha soufflé, crème puffs with chocolate drizzled on top, and more. It was so tempting that Sadie barely heard Myrtle calling to her.
“Sadie! What’s going on?” Myrtle gestured to the center of the room where raised voices were beginning to cause a stir. Couples who’d just been dancing had stopped, some seemingly frozen in place, others backing away.
A Flair For Flip-Flops (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 5) Page 11
