Death of a Hot Chick

by Norma Huss

  Teddy felt my other sleeve, then her own. She stroked the settee beside her. Mumbled, “Dry. All dry.”

  “Did you see Nicole, Teddy?”

  Teddy didn’t answer. No one did. They muttered, or stared, or hid their faces. “Hey, everybody, Nicole’s gone,” I yelled. “What did you see?”

  Finally Teddy answered. “All I saw was water. Like a tidal wave. Inside. Covering me. Covering us all.”

  Finley wiped her face, shook her shoulders, then straightened. “You didn’t see Nicole getting sucked away in the water? Just a little girl, sucked away. Right out of my arms.”

  “She was little?” Kaye asked. “No, she was eighteen or so, just as I first saw her.” Then Kaye nodded. “You’re right. We each saw something different. Cyd, what did you see?”

  “I didn’t see any water, just Nicole in the corner.” But what had Lizzie seen? Lizzie, who again held her hands tightly over her eyes. “We all saw her, Lizzie. Except for Teddy. But we each saw her differently. What did you see?”

  Teddy stood and demanded, “Okay, what’s going on? Is this some put-up job? Do you think I’m going to write up a ghost story?”

  Kaye got back to normal more quickly than the others. “Teddy, you saw the water. No one living did that.” Teddy shook her head, but Kaye continued. “I thought she said something, but I didn’t hear it. Did anyone hear what she said?”

  Lizzie opened her fingers, peered between them, then slowly lowered her hands. “She’s gone?”

  “Yes.” Maybe now Lizzie would tell me something.

  She said, “I didn’t see her, not ’til later.”

  “What did you see just now?”

  “Her body, like I said. In the boat cart.”

  “That’s all?” When she shook her head, I added, “You saw more?”

  “The water. She couldn’t breathe. I could feel it, like I was drowning. I had to scream.”

  “That’s what I felt.” Teddy looked at each of us, not completely convinced that we hadn’t conned her somehow.

  Lizzie kept staring at a spot near me. Finally, she whispered, “She was dead when I saw her.”

  “But you saw her before I did?” I guessed.

  Instead of a denial, Lizzie said, “I couldn’t do anything. She was dead.”

  “The water took her,” Finley muttered. “It took her breath.” Suddenly she stood, hovered over Lizzie, grabbed her shoulders and shook them. “By God, woman, if you know anything, tell me right now.”

  Lizzie shrank back, then straightened. She started quietly. “Sometimes I fall asleep out on my boat. Maybe even most times. But noises wake me up.”

  I leaned forward. “So, what did you see after the noise woke you up?”

  “The marina doesn’t keep things oiled like they ought to. Carts get squeaky. I’m used to hearing that. Somebody takes a cart. Somebody returns a cart. Squeaky carts might wake me up, but I don’t always look.”

  “But sometimes you do look.”

  “I look when I hear other noises. Like somebody grunting, or saying, ‘Damn,’ or like those kids crying.”

  Lizzie, who spouted off everything you didn’t want to know about any little thing, didn’t want to talk. But, somehow, it was coming out. “Besides the children crying, what else did you hear that night?” I asked.

  She stood, turned in a circle slowly, and peered through the open hatch and out each port before she sat down again. “I didn’t hear anybody taking the cart. It wasn’t at the same place. I’m not sure where it was.” She hesitated. “I heard it coming. I heard somebody grunting, maybe even cussing. I’m not sure, maybe it was just grunting. Maybe that’s what woke me up. Anyway, he pushed it into that dark spot where you found it. Then he said something. Sounded like, ‘Damn you.’ I heard that.”

  “But it was too dark to see who it was?”

  Lizzie didn’t answer.

  It was now or never. I kept up the questions. “Or was it too dark? Did you see more?”

  “No.”

  “Hear anything else?”

  “His car. Leaving in a hurry. Couldn’t see that either.”

  “You’re sure it was a man? Anything you remember about him?”

  “Sounded like a man. Big, walked like a man.”

  Kaye spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell all this to the police?”

  Lizzie stood again. Went to the hatch and went through it. She stood on the aft deck, looking all around before she came back inside. “Too many lights. He mighta been standing just outside the light, waiting to kill me. Besides, what could I tell them? Didn’t see enough to make a speck of difference.”

  Kaye leaned forward. “Then why did you tell us now?”

  And the Lizzie I’d come to know was back. She straightened her shoulders, shook her head. Spoke in a firm, know-it-all voice. “I know when somebody’s gonna bug me to death. And I don’t know anything worth a damn. You,” she said, pointing at Teddy. “You be sure they know that at the paper. I don’t know a damn thing. Nobody has to kill me to keep me quiet.”

  “But you agreed to help find her killer. To have your name used. Remember?”

  “My memory ain’t shot that bad, kid. You keep me hid out in some fancy place ’til you nab the killer. Then you print up in that paper that I never knew a damn thing at all. Okay?”

  “We will,” Kaye said. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow and take you to my place.”

  Teddy stood. “Tell me when to show up, and where. I’ve got to get back. I’ll leave any further planning to the rest of you.”

  “Didn’t you say Doug Yarnell was coming?”

  “That’s right. But you don’t need me,” Teddy said as she stepped out the hatch.

  Lizzie stood, watching Teddy leave. “Me, I’m leaving too,” she said. She followed Teddy, peered outside, then turned back. “That guy keeps coming back. You watch out.” Then she whispered, “Watch that Teddy, too.”

  Chapter 20

  “Ladies, I don’t know what Teddy Huertes said about my involvement in your scheme, but Smith Harbor Police Department has no intention of allowing amateurs to conduct a sting operation.”

  “But, Teddy said you’d help.” I glanced helplessly at my sister, willing her to take over the conversation.

  And Kaye did. “So Doug,” she said. “Why are you even here? What did Teddy tell you that inspired you to come?”

  “Snookered me?” Doug Yarnell stroked his chin, as if caressing a luxurious growth. “She mentioned valuable information to help further the Department’s search for Nicole Joline’s killer.”

  “Yo, ho,” Finley said. “That’s a good one. She snookered us all. Told us that you’d help catch the killer. Told you we had info? Well, we do, but we need more. And brother, you’re gonna help.” She stood, flexed a few muscles, and with her six feet plus a fraction, leaned over our startled officer friend. “Right ladies? Now, I’m not threatening anybody here, but seems to me, if a cop is asked to provide protection to law-abiding citizens, he’d better do it.”

  “Finley, that’s not going to work,” I said. “And I know this from years of experience. He bossed us around enough one summer. We appeal to his sense of adventure, his belief in justice, and his desire to close a puzzling case. After all, we all swore an oath, isn’t that right? We aren’t asking the police, we’re asking one of the Lime Street Detective Agency’s members. Might I mention, the most important one too.”

  Kaye, getting into the spirit, stood behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and added, “And, we’ll love you forever. And think of the accolades you’ll receive when you arrest the killer and put him in shackles.”

  Except for a very un-policeman-like eye roll, Doug ignored Kaye’s arms draped over him.

  “Do they use shackles?” I asked.

  “Thumb screws, maybe,” Finley said. “Let’s see, rack and pinion, water-boarding, sleep deprivation.” With a chuckle, she leaned over Yarnell again. “And that’s just talking about our plans for you if you don’t
help us.”

  “You’d leave poor, helpless damsels out here—at the mercy of a killer?” I asked. “He’s heartless and cruel, and he may strike again.”

  Doug stared at his shoulder and the offending arm.

  “We’re not reaching him.” Kaye pulled away and moved around to face Doug. “I think it’s the power of the press. We do have an in with The Orbit, you know.”

  “Have you ladies had enough fun yet?” Doug, not quite in his official capacity, asked.

  “No, seriously,” Kaye said. “Please do remember the power of the press. Teddy is a gossip columnist. She could skewer you.”

  “I think I can handle her.”

  “Ohhh,” Finley said. “You hear that? Big, bad cop, he gonna take care of the lil ole gal, he do that okay. Yes sir, that’s gonna go over big.”

  We were obviously not getting through. I put on my brightest smile and a whole lot of overconfidence. “I’m the voice of reason here. We do have a plan. We will carry it out, whether you assist or not. May we all have your cell phone number just in case we really need it?”

  Kaye said, “Doug? How’s that for a deal?”

  Just like years ago when faced with the puzzling mystery of how his mother’s cat escaped the back yard, he sat. Put an elbow on the small table and cupped his chin in one palm. “Okay, let’s hear the plan. From the beginning.” After glancing around, shrugging and rolling his eyes, he pointed at Kaye. “You, Kaye. Let’s hear it from the top. After the Sunday Orbit hits the street. Right?”

  “Right,” Kaye said with a smirk and started talking.

  ~ ~

  I didn’t bother opening my refrigerator. I knew it was nearly empty. Lizzie had eaten all of the sandwiches. I’d finished off the grapes myself. Finley had left the mints, but on an empty stomach, they’d only give me a belly ache. Kaye had taken her sugared nuts back home with her. I dipped a spoon into the peanut butter, and licked it off. I poured a tumbler of water and took a sip.

  We’d do it. Catch the killer. Tomorrow. If I didn’t starve first.

  “Nicole, do you know what we’re doing?” I asked. The way she appeared this afternoon, scaring Lizzie, she must know more than she admits. “Nicole, let’s talk turkey. You know what’s going on. You know our plans. You’d better be watching tomorrow when we catch your killer.”

  What was I doing, threatening a ghost? I dipped my spoon into the peanut butter jar again.

  “Permission to come aboard,” I heard from outside.

  “Gregory? Sure, why not.” As he stepped through the door, I added, “Want a spoonful of PB?”

  “Don’t you ever answer your cell phone?” he asked.

  “I guess it’s not turned on.” I licked peanut butter off the back of my spoon. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him. I definitely wouldn’t ask him anything. Not what’s up, not why are you here, definitely not anything about Mr. Joline and his fishing trip.

  “You buzzed off my boat so fast yesterday, I didn’t get to tell you all about the dinner my Scout troop is putting on today.”

  “That right? Did they make a lot of money? I suppose that’s why they had one.”

  “It’s tonight. Judging from your current choice of snack food, I’d say you’d love to accompany me.”

  “You’ll be helping in the kitchen, right?”

  “Sort of. But I’ve got those kids whipped into shape. I’m the adult supervisor, not one of the working kids.” He eyed my shorts and bare feet. “I have to be there in twenty minutes. I’ll wait on deck while you put your shoes on. And anything else.”

  He’d noticed the holes in my working T, the splash of paint on my only clean shorts. But, no, I wouldn’t go anywhere with him that didn’t involve business. He was danger. Or, if I admitted it, he wasn’t the danger. My reaction to him was really the danger. I absolutely couldn’t step out with Gregory.

  “I’ll pay,” I said, thinking with my stomach instead of my brain. “How much is it?” I added, mentally counting my change.

  “A Scout master does get some perks. Two tickets, no charge.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll wait while you get ready.”

  So, I wasn’t enthusiastic. But, it would be okay. A Scout event. No problem. But, even chaperones might need watching. At least it would take my mind off tomorrow, the danger we might be in after the newspaper came out. We’d be hidden, waiting for someone to kill Lizzie, who wouldn’t be there.

  Sure. Why not go? The Scout dinner would be held in the high school cafeteria, with its green walls and bright lights. No secluded alcoves. Just one big room with a long counter between the tables and the kitchen. Everything was held at the high school. Community meetings, concerts, absolutely any sports events. Smith Harbor High School was the largest building in town. It even beat the local movie, with its two rooms of split screens.

  ~ ~

  Gregory pulled up beside a line of cars just off Shoreline Road. Not a spaghetti dinner. Not a ham dinner, or chicken. “Steamed crabs on the beach, right?”

  “That’s what I said, didn’t I?” He grabbed a blanket from the back seat.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Does that make a difference?” He rolled the blanket and put it under his arm.

  It did, but I wouldn’t admit it. The evening would darken as we finished eating. Then, wrapped in towels, the Scouts would snuggle on blankets and toast marshmallow over the dying fire. Yeah, like I really needed that.

  With more cheer than I felt, I said, “The kids need any help? They seem to be okay right now, but how about clean-up? They’d appreciate that, I’m sure.”

  Gregory said, “Smell those crabs. Perfection!” He headed for the line that moved slowly past a table set up with bags, each with a dozen steamed crabs, and other bags that contained the rest of the meal. Ice chests full of the usual assortment of chilled drinks were on the sand. Behind the table the steam billowed from several steamers. One Scout carried a bucket full of live crabs to their doom. Other Scouts, both boys and girls, lined the table, passing out the bags.

  “Two dozen,” Gregory said as he handed his tickets to the Scout behind the table.

  “You got it Gregory. I mean, yes sir, Mr. Norris.” He grabbed two bags from the back and whispered, “These are the hottest. Right out of the steamer.”

  Gregory took the bags of hot crabs. I piled our other two bags on my left arm and plunged my right hand into the melting ice water for a Sierra Mist. “Hammers and tongs and that stuff are on the tables,” another Scout said.

  The tables were planks laid out on sawhorses. We put our food on the table and Gregory rolled out the blanket. “Your chair,” he said with a grin.

  I kicked off my shoes and knelt on the blanket. Gregory shook the crabs out onto the layers of newspaper covering the planks. He took off his shoes, dumped the sand, and carefully placed his shoes under the table next to mine. Only then did he grab a wooden mallet.

  It was going to be a long evening if it started with snuggling our shoes up together. I opened the first paper bag.

  “Hush puppies!” I said. I ate one before I set out containers of cole slaw, the plastic spoons, and the napkins. “Cup cakes too.”

  “Here’s your first crab, all cracked and ready to pick.”

  Yes, a long evening. I made sure to crack my second crab myself. I slowed down momentarily after my fourth crab, sat back on my heels with my eyes closed. “Umm. Heaven.” I popped my drink, took a sip, and dipped into the cole slaw.

  “Hey, you can eat more crab than that,” Gregory said.

  “Just a lull, believe me.” I whacked another crab, then pulled down the apron. I poked with the pick to slide out some flesh not completely inundated with Old Bay Spice.

  A Scout came by with more bags. “Another dozen here?” he asked.

  “You bet,” Gregory said.

  I grabbed another crab , twisted a leg off, then cracked it open. As I stuffed my face, Gregory said, “Nah, you weren�
��t hungry. Not at all.”

  “Did I say I wasn’t?” I sucked the juice out of the smallest part of the leg.

  The first two dozen disappeared in record time. I looked at the new pile. “Do I really need another crab?” I asked before I grabbed one.

  Gregory sat back on the blanket and watched me crack and pick. The next one I cracked I gave to him. “I do hope you’re getting your second wind,” I said. “You bought extra, now eat them.”

  “Hey, I ate twice today already. I bet you didn’t.”

  I pulled the apron off the latest crab. “Did so. Breakfast, cereal and milk. Lunch, deli sandwiches, grapes, sugared walnuts, and mints. Filled me to here,” I said, demonstrating with a sticky hand raised above my head.

  “Sugared walnuts? Mints?”

  “From Kaye and Finley.”

  “I suppose they were there discussing your trap to catch a killer.”

  Oh, oh. What did he know about that? I took a hush puppy and bit. “These are getting cool. We’d better finish them quick.” I grabbed the last one. “Open up.”

  Instead, Gregory plucked the hush puppy from my fingers. “Do I detect an attempt to change the subject?”

  I crammed the rest of my hush puppy into my mouth. I mumbled something deliberately garbled.

  “So where are you hiding Lizzie? And why?”

  Lizzie. She’d talked too much. When? Had to be earlier today, before the ghost incident, because it sure wouldn’t have been afterward. What did she say? And, why did Gregory want to know? “In a hotel, of course.”

  “So, when is this event taking place?”

  “It’s in the planning stages. Well, I should say, in the talking pre-planning stages. Do you have any ideas you might contribute?”

  “Sure. Tell me all about it.”

  Now what? “Really, it isn’t my place to say. It’s sort of a female-type thing. You know. We’re trying to focus on ah...what Nicole might have been doing.” Yeah, that sounded good. “I’ll ask the others if they want a male point of view. It might be illuminating.”