Death of a Hot Chick

by Norma Huss

  “No message,” I said. “I’ll call.” I knew exactly what would happen to any message I sent. It would definitely gain something in the relaying.

  “I’ll call too.” Kaye turned and walked away. Fortunately, Mom followed. I watched until they both got in Mom’s car and left the marina before I stepped aboard and unlocked my door. Then I called Granny and told her what a great clown she’d be. I almost agreed to attend clown college with her. So much for my persuasive talents.

  ~ ~

  After a hot day polishing teak I cleaned up, ate some chicken nuggets, grabbed my book and went to class. Head down, I scurried into the room. “Hello to you, too,” I heard. I looked up. Gregory stood just inside the door, his arms crossed, that lazy smile on his face.

  “Oh.” I hesitated, then asked, “I suppose there’s a reason you’re here?”

  “Encouragement. Proving to all the beginners that there is light at the end of the tunnel.”

  “You’re recruiting?”

  “Don’t worry. Your position is safe. I’m not recruiting—not yet. Just showing another possibility for those with captains’ licenses.”

  “I’ll be all ears,” I said and headed for my favorite seat.

  “And lovely ears they are, too.” Gregory followed me and lifted the hair that barely skimmed my left ear. “Um, yes.”

  I felt the flush on my face, remembered the time when his touch dissolved me. I took a deep breath, then biting my lower lip, I sat and opened my notebook. I didn’t look up until I heard Ike say, “Class, welcome to the final session of this training course. Tonight we won’t spend all our time reviewing. We have a guest, Greg Norris, one of Smith Harbor’s leading citizens. He runs a Sea Scout program, but even more important to you, he owns Norris Charters. He hires licensed captains to operate his charter fishing fleet.”

  “Greg,” our instructor had called him. Gregory would hate that.

  “I’ll sit in for a few minutes, then answer any questions.” Gregory sat behind me. Brandon entered a moment later, hesitated at the door, then sat in the front row. Had Gregory laid his claim and Brandon accepted it? Or, had Brandon finally decided to turn his attentions to some gal a bit more receptive? I opened my notebook to a new page, put the date on top, and tried to concentrate.

  It wasn’t easy.

  The teacher had charts. He had a spiel. He had information that I needed. Behind me, Gregory commented as other students posed questions, but so quietly he must have been leaning close.

  “Let’s review the final chapters,” Ike said, “then we’ll ask Greg to comment.”

  I raised my hand and the instructor reluctantly called on me. “Why don’t we listen to Gregory now. I’m sure his few allotted minutes have lapsed. I’d like to know how many captains he hires.”

  “Good question,” Gregory said from behind me. I glanced back as he stood and moved to the front. “I have a roster of twelve qualified captains, but none are full-timers. In fact, several will only take a job if I’m in a bind.” From the front, he winked at me before he continued. “Three are regulars, which means they show up for the scheduled trips. But my unscheduled fishing trips are the larger part of my charters. So, it’s a constant struggle, going down the list calling the next one. Of course, I take my turn as well, but you can see that I do have openings.”

  “Listen up class, you have something to aim for,” Ike said. “Now, Greg, since you’ve heard some of the students’ comments, how well do you think they are prepared for one of your positions?”

  “They get the ticket, I give them a chance.” He pointed at Brandon, who had waved his hand. “You have a question?”

  “Are there other venues in Smith Harbor for employment? Or, must a licensed captain look elsewhere?” Brandon asked, which I thought a bit rude, especially with his tone of voice.

  “Opportunities come and go. Some of you may want to start your own business. I look forward to the competition.”

  “You may run into more competition than you can handle,” Brandon answered.

  I stared at my doodles. Were those two still talking about boats? Possibly our teacher wondered, too. He said, “Greg, when you hire a new captain, one who just received his or her license, do you see any problems with their abilities?”

  “If I do, they’re gone.” He pointed to someone else. “Got a question there?”

  “How much does a captain make? Like, for an all-day trip?”

  “Come get a job and I’ll tell you. Next?”

  “Was Chester Foltz one of your captains? I heard he died in an auto crash.”

  Gregory’s face darkened. “Don’t know the man,” he said. But from the sudden rush of questions, he was the only one.

  I waited for someone to say there’d been no body in that fiery crash. Instead, the questions, and a lot of irrelevant chatter, were all about the flaming accident. Why had anyone even brought up his name? Because it was the latest news?

  Finally, someone asked a question about charters and the class calmed down. Eventually, after more questions, Gregory left. I was glad. He wouldn’t be there when the class was over.

  But when I scurried out to avoid Brandon, Gregory spoke from a bench outside the door. “Nice try. But I didn’t take the hint, did I?”

  “Oh,” I said. “I thought you had to leave.”

  He stood. “I’ve got to admit, my leaving was not a bad idea. Sit down a minute.”

  I hesitated. “Why?” I asked.

  He said nothing, just indicated a part of the bench three feet from him. I sat.

  “You know, you are over-reacting. I’m not putting the moves on you. I know you don’t want that. But, can’t a guy be friendly? Don’t get all wound up because we used to date. You and Al were my friends as well. And Al didn’t treat you right. You’re still my friend.”

  I stared at my stretched-out feet. I was a fool, in a big way. I was not irresistible, especially not to Gregory. The past was ancient history. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

  “But you’re damn teaseable,” he said and hopped up. “Let’s go.”

  And he was irresistible. Unfortunately. “Go where?” I asked as he took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

  “To celebrate the completion of your course. Cup of coffee? Ice cream cone? Movie?”

  “Ice cream,” I decided. That would be quickest. We’d get the cone at the window overlooking the corner, walk under street lights while we ate, and arrive at my boat without complications. No gazing into eyes over a table, or holding hands in the dark movie. I had to watch out. Not for his moves, but mine. Be friendly, but don’t fall. Not again.

  ~ ~

  “We should have gotten napkins,” I said as I licked my fingers. “My cone had holes in it.”

  “Nah, it dripped over the side. Mine did too. But I have napkins.”

  “Oh, good. Give me one.”

  “What do I get in return?”

  “You won’t give me a napkin?” I spread my sticky fingers and reached for Gregory’s shirt.

  He grabbed my hand. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  “Why not?” I tugged, but he didn’t release my hand. Instead, he swung it to his face and licked my palm. “Um, tasty.”

  I was definitely out of practice with the opposite sex. Especially one who had just declared himself off-limits. This parrying back and forth was too much. “I’ll just wash my hands at the boat.” We were almost there.

  “Me too,” Gregory said.

  Bad move, I thought. That would put him inside the boat. “My hose is on the dock.”

  “Hose. Hot summer night. Good idea,” Gregory said. He ran ahead. When he reached my finger pier, he grabbed the hose and unwound it from the faucet.

  I braced herself for a water attack. Instead, I heard Kaye screech, “Where have you been? I thought you were dead.” My delightfully over-controlling sister jumped up from my deck box.

  “Kaye, I’m not in any danger. Did you forget I had a class? And, why would I be dead?”
>
  “The former owner, who tried every way he could to get back on this boat, was just killed. Not to mention Nicole, the most recent former owner, was also killed. You must come stay with me. It’s not safe here.”

  “Perhaps the operative word is ‘former.’ I’m the current owner, and what’s more, I’m aboard, not off the boat which is where the other two were...forget that. If Chester Foltz died in that burning automobile accident, that’s not murder. And he didn’t die. No body was in that car.”

  “There wasn’t?” Gregory asked. “Then why didn’t you announce that tonight and stop all those silly questions?”

  Kaye ignored the whole “no body” subject and said, “Then you’re turning me down? You refuse to protect yourself? You’re ignoring my quite natural concern for you?”

  “I have the solution,” Gregory said with a chuckle. “I’ll stay here. Then she’ll be safe.”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Finally I yelled, “You will not!”

  “Out here, on your lovely folding chair, maybe with a blanket tossed over me,” he said.

  “Well, outside would be all right,” Kaye said. “You understand, I’m not approving of anything else.”

  “You aren’t approving anything,” I told my sister. “Neither one of you has a thing to say. Just leave.” I marched over to the hose, turned it on, and splashed my hands, rubbing the sticky ice cream off.

  “Wash my hands too?” Gregory said. He stood a foot away, leaning over.

  I turned with the hose and sprayed him. I got him in the chest. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize you were so close. But I’m sure it will dry soon.” I turned off the hose and climbed aboard.

  Gregory stood, chuckling. Kaye stood ten feet away, fuming. I tried to slam my door, but it still only coasted to a semi-clicking halt.

  I sank to my settee in the dark. I had to get control of myself.

  Off-limits, off-limits!

  Was that the switch that turned me on? Gregory liked to tease. Me in particular.

  He’d been Al’s friend. Al, who picked up the pieces—the pieces of me when I finally realized Gregory was often so drunk he didn’t even know I was there. But I’d loved Gregory so much—once. When he wasn’t always drunk.

  And now he was interested—as a friend.

  Chapter 15

  Friday, July 28

  When my cell phone jingled at exactly seven fifteen in the morning, I wasn’t surprised. I swallowed the bite of banana and answered, “Hello Kaye. Yes, I’m still among the living.”

  “Oh, you did get the caller ID program,” she said.

  “Nope.”

  “You know I’m concerned. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with checking on you once in a while. But I do have other reasons to call you. I’ve been thinking about our planned traps. I’m rather stumped. Perhaps a brainstorming session will help us.”

  Quick save, I thought, but I said, “Sounds like a good idea, except I’m headed out on an all-day job.” Would I tell her what the job was? Nah, let her assume I’d be doing teak again.

  “Be careful.”

  “Oh, I’ll put lots of sun block on,” I told her, although I knew perfectly well, that was not the kind of careful she meant.

  ~ ~

  Actually, this job didn’t begin until nearly noon, so I was still on the boat when Teddy knocked on the side of Snapdragon and yelled, “Permission to come aboard.”

  “Sure,” I said, but she must not have heard me. I pulled out my reasonably white shorts. The green T-shirt would have to do. Instead of hearing Teddy knock again, I heard her voice.

  “I’ll talk to her later, Reba,” she said. “Take several shots. With and without the name showing.”

  “You mean somebody lives on that little thing?”

  “It’s got all the amenities inside. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom.”

  I zipped the shorts and pulled the T over my head. Finally, I made it out my door. “Hey, what’s going on here?”

  A young woman had set up a tripod and was snapping pictures right and left. Teddy turned with a bright grin—and not a trace of embarrassment about taking over my boat. “Picture time,” she said. “The Sunday issue of The Orbit has their annual special supplement—alternative vacation places to take the kids before school starts. Teddy Tonight will feature the overnight spots, naturally. Unusual places where people live—like in boats.”

  “Oh.”

  “May I have your permission to use your boat?”

  “You mean, since I happen to be here and see you taking the pictures?”

  “Hey, what are friends for?” Quickly, Teddy introduced Reba and me to each other. “Cyd, and I’ve been friends practically from birth,” she told Reba. And to me, she said, “The pictures will be small and won’t show the boat’s name, if you’re concerned. I’ll have other boats as well. What do you say?” When I didn’t say anything at all, she added, “Please?”

  “Is this some scheme for the paper to get more press on Nicole’s murder?”

  “Definitely not. We won’t use any pictures with the boat’s name. Maybe have a few shots inside? And we’ll do a collage. Lizzie lives on board, doesn’t she? What other boats are used as the owner’s principle home?”

  “You’ll have to check with Wes, the marina manager. I’m not sure Lizzie will agree.” In fact, I wasn’t sure I agreed, even though Teddy assumed it. “Tell me more about this special newspaper supplement.”

  “It’s a pre-back-to-school edition. We’ll be focused on short trips to take with the kids. My column will be an addition, how some lucky people seem to live on vacation the year around. I’ll be heading to the camp ground, check out any hotel residents. And, just for kicks, I’ll hit the bus depot in town and the train depot in Queensboro, so there will be a lot of pictures. We’ll pick one or two personal stories to showcase, and the others will be background with short captions of a sentence or two.”

  I hesitated.

  Teddy said, “And, you will get a print of your favorite shot. How’s that?”

  “Like that’s in the budget,” Reba said, hoisting her tripod with camera attached. “How about a few pictures inside?”

  “Maybe just the galley,” I said. “But without me doing my dishes.”

  After several minutes of flashes illuminating a few cobwebs inside Snapdragon, Reba returned to the dock. “Next?” she asked.

  “Lizzie’s boat,” Teddy said, then giving me a hugely fake smile—which used to mean something in our detective code when we were little, said, “Come with me to Lizzie’s boat?”

  Was Teddy’s idea a good thing? What did that grin mean? Oh, yeah—play along. Which didn’t mean I had to. “Sure,” I said. “It’s this way.”

  “I’ll ask Wes about any others.” Teddy followed me, no doubt happy that she’d conned me into helping her.

  Reba piped up. “Is there anybody living on one of the boats out in the water? Like those tied up to the white mooring balls out there, I mean.”

  “They’re mostly in storage. Like a lot of the boats in the marina,” I said.

  At Lizzie’s boat, I banged on the side. Did Teddy really want pictures of a ramshackle boat, the deck piled with boxes wedged in between a couple of folding chairs. Two plastic gallon containers may, or may not have been full of something. “Hey, Lizzie. You here?” I asked.

  Reba started snapping pictures from all angles, even before Lizzie popped out. She kept snapping as Lizzie popped her head out the door.

  She stood, taking it all in before she said a word. “Cyd, you bring this newspaper gal and her picture-taking buddy?”

  “Yeah, but they’re supposed to ask your permission first,” I said.

  Teddy went into her spiel, explaining the upcoming article.

  Lizzie stood silently taking it all in. Finally, she said, “You ain’t gonna use my name and you ain’t gonna use my boat name. Got that?”

  “Of course. Any picture will be small, as I explained to Cyd.”

&n
bsp; “And you ain’t gonna use one of them that she snapped right in my face with me looking right at her. Got that too?”

  “Sure do, Lizzie. But, if you want, I’ll print up a large one just for you to keep. Would you like that?”

  “No!” she said, and darted back inside and closed her door.

  “That went well,” Reba mumbled.

  “Let’s find the manager,” Teddy said. “Cyd, I owe you. Come with us?”

  “No, I’m on my way to a job. Um, about those identifying pictures....”

  “Don’t show them to Zander, right?”

  I gave her the thumbs-up sign and headed back to Snapdragon to lock up.

  ~ ~

  “It’s a paying job, right?” I had asked Gregory that morning when he called.

  “Sure,” he’d answered, but I wondered. Had my door-slamming last night ticked him off and this was payback? I approached the newly expanded Norris Charters—a mini-marina, with repair facilities and his fleet of boats tied to floating docks. Why did he need an assistant for a day cruise? And, an assistant without papers at that?

  Gregory was pumping diesel into the tanks. “Hey. Be with you in a minute,” he said. “We’re taking this one.”

  Three boats gleamed in their places. I swung aboard Norris Wave–a refitted oyster boat, originally used by tongers, who scraped oysters from the bottom in shallow water. I stood at the wheel, stroked the leather covered surface, glanced around as I would under way. Gregory approached, a big smile on his face.

  “Hey, memories?” he asked.

  “Not me.” I wished my face didn’t flame so easily.

  He stood behind me, folded his arms around my elbows, then took the wheel with my body clasped tightly between his warm chest and the cold wheel.

  “Um,” he breathed into my ear. “I’ve got memories.”

  “Why do you need an assistant?” I whispered to the wheel.

  He stepped back with a laugh. “Just trying to impress an important customer. We’ll give him a two-employee crew. I’ve got a T-shirt and a cap below for you to wear. They’re in the head. Stash your shirt out of sight.”

  “Okay, what are my duties?”