Really, Truly Dead

by Maggie Toussaint

Her blush scattered my thoughts in another direction. “Did he give you roses?”

  “He surprised me with a half a dozen some time ago. The vase is still here. Let me get it for you.”

  Ellen walked by in a citrus-scented rush. Citrus . . . oranges. I stared after her. Ellen and the judge? Nah. He was old enough to be her father. But the orange fragrance might be relevant. “You smell good, Ellen. What is that?”

  She glanced shyly over her shoulder. “It’s the one thing I do for myself. I use a scented shampoo from Misty’s Beauty Shop. I just got a new bottle.”

  Hmm. If Ellen bought the shampoo locally, so could other women.

  An hour later, I had a list of Misty’s recent shampoo purchasers and a hair appointment next week.

  While I recognized the names, I didn’t know much about these women’s relationship status. I walked to the Post Office. Luck was with me. Aunt Fay’s friends, the Barrington sisters, were keeping her company. With their pastel blouses, tan pants, and sneakers, all three ladies looked like they shopped at the same places.

  After we said our hellos, I asked for their help. “This list of shampoo purchasers might be relevant to our murder investigation. Which woman might be a likely affair prospect for Judge Sterling?”

  Peggy Barrington took first crack at the names. “Forget Betty Furbee. She’s settling her mother’s estate in Florida. And Ginger Taylor moved in with her Colorado daughter five months ago to provide daycare for her new grandson.”

  Her sister Bernice snatched the list. “Myrtle Lowell. She’s ninety and on oxygen. No way the judge was doing her.”

  Aunt Fay looked over Bernice’s shoulder. “Thelma Riley is meaner than a wet snake. Forget her.”

  “Sally Ditterman moved in with Ramona Blossom,” Peggy volunteered. “Wrong persuasion.”

  Bernice snatched the list. “Wynelle Johnson. Not likely. She smokes cigars and keeps to herself.”

  “The next person on the list is your friend Ellen,” Aunt Fay added. “She’s too young for him.”

  Peggy peered over Bernice’s shoulder. “Connie Whitehead moved in with Chester Smith around Easter. Can’t picture her satisfying two men.”

  Aunt Fay frowned. “All you got left are Willingham twins. June’s battling stage four breast cancer, and Dena’s her caretaker.”

  “I was hoping to identify the mystery woman. Rats.” Desperate for a lead, I tried another avenue. “Cousin Janey says most of the town’s affairs are conducted at The Oaks Motel.”

  “True,” Bernice added, “and Number Ten was Alan’s private love nest.”

  “I didn’t know.” I didn’t need a love nest image in my head either. “Thanks for your help.” I ducked outside into the heat. The shampoo lead was a bust, but with any luck the rose analysis might yield useful information. If it did, dinner with Ike would be a fair trade for Daddy’s freedom.

  Chapter 12

  The next day Trish Sterling was in the office renewing her newspaper subscription when Aunt Fay phoned. “They found the deed. Meet me at the Courthouse,” Aunt Fay said. “Bring Trish. I see her car over there.”

  I hung up and relayed the news to Trish.

  “Who owns the motel?” Trish asked in a breathy voice.

  I shrugged. “Aunt Fay didn’t say. Why don’t we ride over there in my car?” No matter who owned the motel now, the news would be emotional for Trish.

  “Sure, but mine is roomier. You drive.” She handed me her keys.

  In the car, Trish buckled her seatbelt with a stoic air. “I have a bad feeling about this. If Alan owned the motel when he died, the deed wouldn’t have been missing.”

  Silently, I agree with her logic.

  “I blamed Angie for Alan’s indiscretion, but it wasn’t her fault he was a tom cat,” Trish continued.

  “Angie knew he was a married man.”

  She made a face as I parked. “Maybe she didn’t have a choice. Alan probably made servicing him a part of her job description.”

  Sobering thought.

  A small crowd awaited us inside the courthouse. Aunt Fay, the clerk, the sheriff, and tax assessor Chester Fitzwater stopped talking when we entered. Chester took Trish’s hand. “Sorry, Miz Sterling. I didn’t realize the deed was in my car. I misplaced it while moving my mother the other day.”

  Trish wrestled her hand free. “Is The Oaks mine?”

  Chester shook his head. “The judge deeded his property over to Angela Johnson last month. This wasn’t a joint holding.”

  “I see.” Trish sagged like she’d been gut punched. Aunt Fay wrapped an arm around Trish’s shoulders.

  “I’ll release the escrow, and send your lawyer a copy of the deed, in case you want to challenge this,” the sheriff said.

  “What’s the point?” Trish sighed. “She earned the motel the hard way.”

  “Come on, Trish. Let’s go,” I said.

  Trish needed a friend, and I only knew one of her friends. “She’s had a bit of a shock,” I told Daddy at the door when I dropped her off.

  He nodded. “I’ll take care of her.”

  I headed back to the paper on foot. Perspiration dripped from my chin before I walked three blocks.

  A Jeep slowed. “Want a lift?” Ike asked.

  “I would kill for a ride.” Oops. Unfortunate choice of words. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  “Of course.” His sunglasses hid his eyes, but his lips curved into a smile as he drove. “You did a good thing with Trish.”

  I lifted the sodden mass of hair off my neck. “Trish deserved better than Alan. She had plenty of motive to kill him, but she didn’t.”

  “I see.” The sheriff parked his Jeep next to my car at the newspaper.

  From his tone, he didn’t see at all. “My family has weathered tragedy and loss. Daddy blames himself for Colin’s disappearance at sea. Mama couldn’t save Colin or Daddy so she left to save the world.”

  The sheriff drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “What about you?”

  I turned to watch cars barreling across the bridge. “I ran away.”

  “But you’re back.”

  “Because there’s a new mess.” I sighed. “Now Trish is adding her mess to our pot.”

  “You worried about your parent’s marriage?”

  “Daddy claims it’s been over for a while, even though they haven’t divorced, but it still shocked me to hear that.”

  “They’ll figure it out. All you can do is love them both.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been to counseling, too.”

  He frowned and I wished he’d take off his sunglasses so I could see his eyes. “Two years’ worth. If your parents are no longer compatible, it’s best they cut ties.”

  I didn’t want more heartbreak. “You want a Coke or something?”

  “Nah. I’ve got to get back.”

  “Thanks for the lift and the advice.”

  “Anytime.”

  ~*~

  My coworker sat at my desk, her face buried in my roses. “Ellen?” I asked.

  She jumped to her feet and clutched her heart. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

  “You like the roses?”

  “Yes. They remind me of . . .”

  Maybe it was the heat, but facts lined up in a new array, one I’d refused to consider before. Ellen used orange-scented shampoo. Ellen received roses from the judge. “Did you have an affair with the judge?”

  Color drained from her face. “None of your business.”

  “I wouldn’t pry if Daddy wasn’t charged with murder.”

  She wrung her hands. “I don’t want anything to happen to George.”

  “Please. I need your help.”

  “All right. Yes. I had a brief fling with the judge, months ago. Mama took the kids to her sister’s, and I had two weeks alone.” Ellen laughed. “It was wild. It was wicked. But it was over as soon as it began. I have responsibilities. I couldn’t conduct a long-term affair.”

  So Ellen was the mystery
woman. “I see.”

  “The judge knew how to treat a woman. He brushed his roses all over me. I wasted eight years on Thomas and never experienced passion like that. Do you think that’s fair?”

  “No.”

  “Alan said Trish understood. I wanted a walk on the wild side. I got that and more. Best of all, once I knew what good sex was like, I realized Thomas is a crappy lover.”

  “Did anyone know of your affair?”

  “We were careful. Alan picked me up for lunch in the park every day and drove us to The Oaks. On the weekends, we stayed at Mom’s. I ended it when the kids came home from Florida with my mother.”

  “Was he bitter?”

  “No. He wanted to continue, but I couldn’t juggle him and the kids.”

  “What about your mother or the neighbors?”

  “It was a secret, but maybe someone saw us.”

  Ellen’s ex had been following her around recently. What if he’d watched her for months? Could jealousy incite him to murder a rival?

  The phone shrilled. “Lindsey, my accountant called,” Trish said. “Alan withdrew ten thousand from an investment account two weeks before he died.”

  My heart raced at the good news. “Call Sheriff Harper. This is important.”

  I hung up and glanced out my window. The rusty pickup was parked at the dock, and Thomas was inside it, busily talking on his cell phone. I was in luck, because Thomas practically lived on the Pamela Sue, and the dock was near the crime scene. If evidence connected him to the judge, it might be on his boat.

  I needed to take a quick look. “I’m taking Bailey on a walk,” I told Ellen. “If we don’t return by quitting time, lock up. I have my keys.”

  Bailey romped along the water’s edge. Since it was Thursday, the boats wouldn’t unload today. If Thomas was in his truck waiting for Ellen to leave, I could search his boat. Only problem was I’d avoided boats for ten years.

  I could do this. For Daddy. And, if I fell in the water and was too scared to swim, I could yell for help, I rationalized. The Inverness River wasn’t the Atlantic Ocean. I wouldn’t drown.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Thomas was still sitting in his truck. Bailey and I ducked behind the oleanders lining the riverbank and made our way to the Pamela Sue.

  It was dead low tide. I set my purse next to a wooden piling and stepped way down onto the raised cap-rail of the boat. Bailey stutter-stepped like she wanted to jump, but the distance to the deck of the boat was too far.

  “Shh,” I whispered. “Stay, Bailey.”

  I threaded through the nets and machinery in the stern and traversed the narrow outside passageway to the pilot house door. Locked. Peering through the window, I saw the oaken captain’s wheel and the vinyl covered captain’s seat. I needed to get in there.

  Skirting the anchor in the bow, I tried the opposite door. It swung open.

  I ignored the bank of monitors and electric wires lining the low ceiling and focused on the clutter. Two stained coffee cups, an almost empty roll of toilet paper, duct tape, and random parts filled the countertop. I pawed through the stuff, but nothing stood out.

  A faded flannel shirt with button down flaps hung over the captain’s chair. One of the pockets bulged. With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned the flap and reached inside.

  Bailey yelped outside, but I ignored her. My fingers closed around a circular metal item, and I pulled it out. The distinctive stainless steel band gleamed brightly. I recognized the crown symbol on the watch face from my Atlanta power lunches. A Rolex.

  The judge’s missing watch. I shoved it back in the pocket. I needed the sheriff to find it.

  Suddenly, the doorway filled with a large, angry male. Thomas was blocking my exit. The fevered look in his eyes took my breath away. Why hadn’t I studied martial arts?

  I turned to run, but a beefy paw grabbed my shoulder. I opened my mouth to scream but his other fist smacked my temple. The world went black.

  ~*~

  I awoke to a headache, darkness, vibration, an engine roar, and the rhythmic sway of waves. My hands and feet were hogtied behind me with duct tape. I lay on a thin foam mattress.

  Memory flooded back. Thomas had found me on his boat. He knocked me out, and now he was taking me somewhere in the ocean. I was in deep trouble.

  Tears filled my eyes as I struggled against my bonds. If only I hadn’t acted on impulse.

  Even though it was August, I shivered with icy fear. As my vision sharpened, I made out the pilot house’s walls in the dim light coming through the narrow window. Full moon tonight, which meant that it wasn’t pitch black outside.

  Realization clunked in my empty stomach. No one knew where I was. I had to rescue myself. Stealthily, I inched my bound hands and feet to the edge of the foam, until I felt the crack between the mattress and the wall.

  I found crumbs, cellophane wrappers, something that felt like an old sock, and a beer bottle cap. The edges of the bottle cap were sharp. I grabbed it and began working on the tape. I was making progress when I heard footsteps. I palmed the bottle cap.

  Light flooded the room. An involuntary sob of terror spilled from my throat.

  Thomas swung his fist back to hit me again. I scooched back on the bunk, retreat my only defense. “Don’t hit me,” I pleaded.

  He reached in and shook me so hard my teeth rattled. “I saw you sneak out of your office. Why are you on my boat?”

  “You followed Ellen. I wanted to know why.”

  “I always follow Ellen. She’s my wife.”

  “Ex-wife. She doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Ellen is mine.”

  This guy was certifiable. “Why don’t we forget about this misunderstanding?”

  “You McKays are so stinking proud.” His gaze narrowed. “You’re being punished for working at that lousy newspaper.”

  This made no sense. “You’re punishing me because of the Gazette?”

  His face neared mine. “I’m killing you because you’re a McKay.”

  My mouth went dry. “Killing me? Why not write a letter to the editor like everyone else?”

  “You’re gonna die.”

  I held my breath and watched his hands. How would he kill me? A knife, like the judge? Terror took over, and I struggled against my bonds, but the duct tape held.

  He laughed, and the rasping sound made me tremble. “You’re afraid. Good. At least you know I’m the master. Sterling never acknowledged I was his master, and he’s dead now.”

  Would he confess? “You killed Alan?”

  “I know you already figured that out. You McKays don’t care about Ellen. You stole her from me, and you’re gonna pay for that. When I get finished, there won’t be a McKay left in this county.”

  He’d targeted my entire family? I had to do damage control. “We didn’t tell Ellen to divorce you. She did that on her own.”

  “You people ruined my life, so you’re going to pay with yours.”

  “Killing me won’t bring Ellen back. She left for personal reasons.”

  “She left to fornicate with other men. That’s not allowed.”

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Who’ll stop me? Not you. You’re shark bait.”

  My heart stalled. I would drown, same as my brother, unless I planted a worm of doubt. “Trish found ten grand missing from her investments. These new nets and your story of extra hauls won’t hold water. Besides, forensics will convict you. This mattress is full of my skin cells. They’ll catch you even if you kill me.”

  He swore and punched the wall. “Shut your lying trap.”

  “You can’t erase my DNA.”

  “I gotta think.” He glared at me. “What else did you touch?”

  “Nothing. I came inside, saw you weren’t here, and then you hit me. And I heard my dog yelp. You hit my dog, didn’t you? Your DNA will be on my dog.” I didn’t know that for sure, but it sounded good. I was desperate.

  “I kicked your mutt, and it ran off
.” His face darkened, and he grabbed me.

  “What are you doing?” I hollered as he started walking with me in his arms, all the while I clutched that palmed bottle cap.

  “End of the line for you. I’m going to find and shoot your dog.”

  “But the mattress! Even if you kill me and go back for my dog, you’ll get caught.”

  “Right.” His laugh was cruel.

  Salt air hit my face as he exited the pilot house with me in tow. “Don’t do this,” I begged.

  He twisted at the waist as if preparing to swing a golf club. He was going to throw me overboard! I cringed and flailed, but it didn’t matter.

  I sailed through the night air, gulped in a big breath, sank in the ocean, and sawed feverishly at the tape that bound me hand and foot.

  Chapter 13

  Dark water surrounded me as I sank, hands and feet hogtied behind me. Using the bottle cap’s sharp edges, I sawed the duct tape bindings. I would drown as soon as I ran out of air if I couldn’t free myself. My body trembled. Was I already too deep? Please, please, let this work. I don’t want to die.

  Another slice with the bottle cap, and my feet ripped free. I let out a little air and followed the direction of the air bubbles on my face. I kicked for all I was worth, losing my shoes in the process. With every microsecond, doubt and horror raged inside me. What if I’d misjudged the direction in the dark? But I couldn’t quit. I wouldn’t quit.

  Finally, lungs burning, I broke the water’s surface and gasped in a huge breath. I bobbed in the swells. The salt water stung my face, but I was alive.

  I sliced through the remaining duct tape, and my wrists came apart. Treading water, I checked the moon’s position low in the western sky. It was late at night, and land wasn’t visible. I’d been missing for hours. Was anyone looking? With my known avoidance of boats, would they search the ocean?

  Fear smacked me like a fist, and I gulped a mouthful of seawater. Stop that, Lindsey McKay. Don’t give in to fear. Use your head.

  Waves buffeted me. Thomas Mattingly had killed the judge. He tried to drown me. But here I was. Alive. He hadn’t beaten me. Not yet. But I was so scared. What if a shark found me? What if I swallowed too much water? What if I got too tired to keep afloat?