Well, at least it wasn’t someone trying to kill us already, but I could tell June was worried, and I trusted her intuition as much as, or more than, my own.
“I’ll pull up as close to the shore as I can. Maybe we’ll be able to see Michael if we get a little closer.”
I angled the boat so we could get as close to the breakwall and shore as possible and idled in as close to the rocks as I safely dared. We could clearly see Michael’s dog pacing back and forth on a small stretch of beach. On the breakwall behind him, a form was sprawled on the rocks.
“Do you see that, Francie? Do you see the rocks behind Gunner? I think it’s Michael.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re right! Do you think he fell?”
“Quick, pull the boat onto the shore. We have to help him.”
“Okay. I’m trying to get as close as I can without grounding it. There’s an anchor in the compartment next to the one with the life jackets. We’re going to have to jump out and anchor it just offshore. Then we should be able to walk right up to the spot and see what’s going on.”
Once again June and I were unexpectedly in the freezing water of Lake Erie. At least this time, it only came only up to just below our knees, and I was not in fear of drowning. By the time I got the anchor set, June was already climbing up the slippery limestone rocks at the edge of the beach. Gunner was right beside her, navigating the jagged rocks like a pro, heading resolutely toward the form we had seen from the boat. I grabbed my cell phone from my bag and walked to the place on the beach where flat land met slippery stone. I stayed on the beach because climbing boulders in my flip flops would likely result in a trip to the emergency room for me along with Michael, or whomever it was, who was sprawled on the rocks.
“Hurry, Francie, it is Michael. He’s unconscious. I think he fell and hit his head. There’s a lot of blood! Call 911.”
I punched in the emergency number and gave our location and a quick description of the crisis to the dispatcher. The calm, faceless voice on the other end informed me that police and an ambulance would be on their way and to stay on the line. We were to put pressure on any bleeding and not move the unconscious person. I relayed the information to June who already had a familiar-looking green army jacket folded up under Michael’s head and was using a sleeve torn from his tee shirt to put pressure on the cut above his eye. “Is he breathing?”
“Yes. He’s still breathing, but it looks like he’s been out here for a while. I don’t want to climb down and leave him, so I’m going to throw Gunner’s leash and Michael’s backpack down to you. I wouldn’t want the poor guy to get nervous and run off when he hears the sirens.”
A thick, brown leather leash and a faded, worn leather backpack landed at my feet. I could hear sirens getting closer, so I slowly approached the dog, who was pacing at the foot of the rocks, nervously keeping watch over his master.
“Come here, boy. It’s going to be okay.” I squatted in front of him and held out my hand so Gunner could sniff me and assess my friendliness factor. He approached apprehensively, took stock of my demeanor, and then stood beside Michael’s backpack at attention. I gave him a minute to adjust to my presence and then clipped the leash to his collar. He looked up at me with his soulful brown eyes and then lay down in the sand and put his head on the familiar backpack. There wasn’t anything else I could do at the moment, so I sat down in the sand beside him and stroked his velvety ears. We watched together as two men in white polo shirts and white pants briskly walked toward us with a stretcher and other assorted medical gear. A female officer followed just a moment behind. She stopped for a moment to get my name, and then climbed the rocks up to Michael and June. I craned my neck upward to see her writing in her notebook as she alternately asked questions of the medical personnel and spoke to June.
In less than five minutes, both the ambulance and the police car with their occupants and one additional unconscious man were pulling away with lights flashing and sirens screaming. After they sped away toward the local hospital, June made her way down from the rocks and sat down beside Gunner and me.
“What did they say, June? Is Michael going to be okay? Could they tell what happened? Was it an accident?” As usual, I was overflowing with questions, and as usual, there weren’t many satisfying answers.
“The medics said the only injury was a laceration on Michael’s forehead, but he was still unconscious and had lost quite a bit of blood. They are going to do some tests and stitch up the cut, but the rest depends on him waking up. The police have my phone number. They’ll call me when he regains consciousness. They have some questions for Michael when he wakes up. They did say that based on the type of injury they couldn’t say conclusively whether or not it was an accident. It may have been intentional, and that changes everything.”
“What do we do now? We have to find somewhere for Gunner until Michael is better. We can’t bring him with us to Kelley’s. That is, if you still think we should go.”
“Well, we can’t do anything else for either of them by sitting around on this beach. I feel like this ‘accident’ is somehow related to everything else that’s been going on around here. Let’s have a look in his backpack. Maybe we can find an address or phone number of someone who could watch Gunner.”
A soft growl came from Gunner’s throat as June reached for the backpack under his head. She looked directly at his face and never broke eye contact as she gently tugged the pack away from the loyal dog’s protective custody. When she had moved it a safe distance, she sat quietly for a few moments, petting him and making soft, reassuring cooing sounds close to his ear. Finally, Gunner relaxed and lay back down in the sand. I watched with interest as June opened the backpack and systematically began retrieving items: several newspapers, a notebook, dog biscuits, a sweatshirt, a Swiss army knife, a flashlight, and a gun.
“Oh my god, June, that’s a gun!” She was holding the weapon by the barrel with her hand stretched out away from her.
“I know. Don’t touch it. I don’t know how to tell if it’s loaded or not. Here, take this notebook and the newspapers, and I’ll stash the rest of this stuff back in the bag. The last thing we need is for someone to see us out here with a misplaced dog and a gun.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would think we were magnets for disaster. I still can’t believe this is happening.”
“I know, Francie, but if we can do anything to help, we have to at least try. Give me those newspapers and you look through the notebook. Hopefully something will give us a clue.”
I scanned Michael’s notebook, feeling guilty for looking into the personal thoughts of a man who clearly valued his privacy. The majority of entries were dates and times with some names of people and what I assumed were businesses. There were also some scientific or medical-sounding words with definitions and various notes. It mostly read like a timeline beginning the previous spring. The last entry was from just last night. I noticed the name Overmayer about halfway down the page. For some reason that seemed to stick in my mind. “I really can’t decipher all of these names and dates. It seems like Michael was tracking something or someone, but there isn’t any indication about what it all means. And I don’t think there is anyone in here that he would want us to leave his dog with.”
“I’m not getting anywhere with these newspapers either. They are all pertaining to that guy who died in Chicago and a missing coin collection. And then there are some from The New York Times about a mob connection to a ring of knock-off wholesale distributors. None of it seems to go together. I wonder why Michael is so interested in this guy.”
I laid my hand on Gunner’s neck and he gave me a thank you lick on the knee. “Well where does that leaves this furry guy?”
“I suppose we could bring him back to your condo. I mean, he was in the Army. I’m sure he wouldn’t cause too much trouble.”
“I guess so. He’ll probably be better behaved than the twins were when they were younger and running wild around the place.”
“That’s true.
Let’s see if Gunner will get into the jet boat. I know he rides on the ferry, so hopefully he likes the water as well.”
June waded out into the chilly water and hopped in the boat. Gunner tilted his head questioningly as he watched her.
“Here, boy!” With just one whistle from June, Gunner was running full speed through the water and flying over the side of the small boat. The boat tilted precariously on its side for a moment while Gunner shook his fur vigorously, drying off his coat.
“I guess that answers that question.” I was talking to myself again as I followed.
Gunner was a great first mate. “I’m pretty sure he’s done this before. He almost looks like he’s smiling.”
June grinned as she watched the expression of sheer joy on the dog’s face. “Maybe I should get a dog. He seems so content.”
“Maybe you should just act like a dog. Try opening your mouth and sticking your face full into the wind.”
It felt good to laugh for once and just live in a happy moment, even if that moment would not last long.
When we got back to the condo, I pulled the jet boat right up to the beach in my backyard. It seemed pointless to tie it up in the slip, just to turn around and undo it all in a few minutes. It was nice to step out of the boat and on to warm sand instead of flash-freezing our feet in the lake water. Gunner followed June and seemed relaxed as he investigated the yard and the deck and then made himself comfortable on the kitchen floor.
“Let’s give him a bowl of water and then get back to our plan. We need to get to that warehouse before it gets too late.”
“Sounds good. I think he’ll be fine here for a couple of hours. I just hope that we hear from Michael soon. He’ll be worried sick about his best friend when he wakes up.”
“As soon as we get back, we’ll call the hospital to check on him. They should have all of his test results by then.”
“Time to try this adventure again. Do you have everything? Adhesive remover? Skin cleanser? Comb?”
“Really, June? You’re talking to the master here.” Hang on just one second. I might as well return Sirena’s sweater to her after we finish up. I’ll just grab it real quick.”
The sweater was folded on top of the freshly laundered clothes we were wearing yesterday during our “swim” in the lake. Brrrr. I didn’t even want to think about that. It might be August before I feel like going for a dip in the lake this year. I checked to make sure Sirena’s shopping list was still in the pocket, then headed back to the kitchen.
“I’m all set. We’ll see you in a little while, Gunner. Be good.” I bent down to pet the lounging dog. He growled and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. “What’s wrong, Gunner? Calm down boy.” He continued to growl at me and began barking and backing me into a corner of the kitchen. “June, do something! What has gotten into him?”
“I don’t know! Throw me that sweater so you have your hands free in case he jumps up. I’ll look for some cheese or something to distract him.”
“Good idea. Catch!”
I flung the delicate sweater toward June and it floated toward the snarling dog and onto the floor between us. Gunner pounced on it and began tearing and ripping it to shreds. “Oh my gosh, June, Gunner ruined Sirena’s sweater. She’s going to kill me!”
“It looks like the sweater is what made him so aggressive to begin with. Now that it’s destroyed, he’s sleeping like a baby.”
“Remember how he was growling at Sirena on the ferry? She really must not be a dog person. I think they can sense that sort of thing. I picture her with a cat.”
“Maybe it wasn’t even her. Maybe it was the actual sweater. There could have been some scent or something in the fabric that irritated him. Dogs have very sensitive noses, you know.”
“That sweater did smell really nice,” I recalled. “Well, hopefully she’s a people person and will forgive me when I tell her about the sweater. Let’s head out.”
“See ya, Gunner!” June gave him a pat on the head as we left the kitchen. He didn’t even twitch an eye.
Chapter Twenty-One
Just over ten minutes later, we arrived at our destination, half the time it took us on the ferry. I pulled the jet boat up to Cozy Cove, a small marina located about a half mile west of the more popular tourist docking locations. This one was mainly used by locals who didn’t care to be in the middle of the summer vacationers’ round-the-clock revelry.
It was finally time to execute part one of our crime-solving game plan. After paying the real-live dock master with genuine currency, which reminded me that we needed to repay yesterday’s IOUs, we headed straight to the small bathhouse reserved for marina guests.
Once inside, I plopped the tote bag and my purse on the counter and we got straight to work. I felt the same adrenaline rush as the backstage preparation right before a show. Getting into character never failed to fill me with excited anticipation, and this wasn’t simply a stage performance; it might be the biggest role I would ever be cast in.
“Come on, Francie, it’s now or never. Pass me the adhesive and let me know when my mustache is straight.”
“I will, but give me a second. My hair is fighting this hat with everything it’s got.”
I continued stuffing rogue curls under an unremarkable beige canvas hat as June wiggled a fake mustache up and down above her lip until it was as straight as it was going to get.
“So, do we look like the Fresh Market delivery guys or what, Francie? I can hardly recognize myself.”
I scrutinized our disguised reflections in the mirror and had to admit, we just might get back to the warehouse undetected. “I guess we won’t know until we try. It’s show time!”
“Here’s to us. Let’s go break a leg!”
“Or not. I never did like that expression. We can do this!”
We high-fived each other, took one last appraising look at ourselves, gathered up our props and headed for the door.
Cautiously at first, we emerged from the bathhouse. I peered around the corner of the door and scanned the area. “The coast is clear!” Thankfully, there was no one in the vicinity to question what two Fresh Market deliverymen were doing in the women’s restroom. After that, it was a breeze. Not a single person looked twice at our nondescript uniforms as we made our way out of the park and on to the main street.
“It must be close to lunchtime,” June remarked, pulling her smart phone from the pocket of her dark blue work trousers to check the time. “We better refuel before we get started, don’t you think? We have to keep our energy up for the task ahead.”
I couldn’t disagree. The Sand Bar, a small, family-owned establishment, was just up the road from Cozy Cove and was popular with the permanent residents for their ice cold draft beer, fresh perch, and fabulous grilled-cheese sandwiches. We headed straight for the little outdoor bar. I hesitated for a moment when I realized the bartender on duty was one I had seen before. In fact, the last time I was here with Hamm for lunch, he got irritated with the guy for flirting with me. He told me that my smile could chase away any raincloud and was offering me free drinks until my husband asked him about the current status of his liquor license.
Here was our chance to test our disguises. I placed my order for a grilled cheese sandwich and a Corona Light with a very serious expression on my face, hoping my curls would remain under my cap. June settled on some queso cheese dip with chips and a regular Corona. Our orders were delivered quickly and the bartender never even gave me a second glance. I was a little disappointed that my sunny smile wasn’t about to rate me a free drink today, but then I mentally slapped myself for even thinking such a thing. This was no time for flirtations. I should be joyful that my talents for dramatic costuming had gotten us past this first test of theatrical subterfuge.
We weren’t even finished congratulating ourselves on our excellent acting skills when June shifted her gaze downward and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Don’t look now, Francie, but this could be bad, very bad.
Detective Morgan is right over there and he’s looking this way.”
“How is it that this guy shows up everywhere we go?” I used all of my resolve to keep my expression neutral and my head turned away. Thankfully, my uniform hat was still doing a nice job of completely covering my unruly curls.
Our disguises must have been really good because although his eyes were squinting in our direction, he did not approach. Also to our advantage, our faces were shaded by the bar’s canopy; so we ate our lunches and drank our beers quickly, then left the bar through the side exit with our backs to the pesky law man.
“I can’t help but worry about finding Michael unconscious on the beach. Do you think we should have told Morgan about what happened? I’m sure he’s going to find out. I don’t want it to look like we’re hiding things from him.”
“The medics took down all our information. We weren’t trying to conceal anything, at least not from them. I think it’s best not to get involved for right now. Besides, we’re delivery men. What would we know about it?”
“Good point! I almost forgot.”
Hopefully Morgan didn’t recognize the seductive sway of June’s hips that even the baggy work pants couldn’t quite conceal. He left at the same time, but headed in the opposite direction toward the street. We had officially passed test number two.
I took a quick glance behind me. “Our disguises are obviously working great, but we better start being more observant. We should have seen his car parked right out front. That was a little too close for comfort.”
“You are absolutely right, Francie. Let’s get going, and let’s keep our eyes and ears open from now on.”
We walked along, following the path worn through the trees by the tires of many golf carts heading toward the lake. The abandoned warehouse was not in sight, but we both knew it was not far from where we were. While we walked toward our destination, we went over the details of our plan one more time.
After making a careful circle of the building, we concluded the van was not on the premises and the golf cart was still tucked away from view under its tarp. It was now or never.
Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) Page 14
