Stunned, she was barely aware of being tossed over the railing. Dank wetness enveloped her as she sank into the slough. The water, deep and cold, embraced her.
She would drown, same as little Tammy.
Horror flung her eyes open and sharpened her mind. Holding her breath, she forced her panic-stricken gaze to search for the surface. Her eyes stung from the brackish content, but she ignored the discomfort. Which way was up? Inky depths extended in a void all around her.
So this was the way of it. She’d receive retribution at last. Her life would end in the same manner as the toddler whose doom she’d sealed.
No, that won’t happen. She’d made amends and turned her life around. Her existence was worth fighting for, and she wouldn’t give up in this hostile place.
While her lungs threatened to burst with painful intensity, she made herself relax to see if she could float. Her blouse ballooned, and her body began to rise. Or at least, so she hoped. When she felt she’d have to breathe even if it meant taking in water, her head broke the surface. She took a shuddering gulp of air and then kicked her feet to stay afloat.
“Marla!” David’s voice hollered her name.
“Over here.” Her hoarse cry went unheeded. Gathering strength, she tried again. “I’m over here, in the water.”
“Oh, my God. I can’t see you.”
She swam toward his voice, and the railing came into view in a beam of moonlight. The empty boat had long since disappeared, its owner probably hoping she’d drowned by now. But that wasn’t the worst that could happen. An ominous sound reached her ears, water thrashing from behind. Her heart, already hammering in her chest, skipped a beat.
Reptiles. Hungry reptiles.
“David, help me. There’s an alligator.” Would it be an alligator in this salty water or a crocodile? Or maybe a snake. Hell, did it matter?
Muttering an expletive, David leapt over the rail and splashed into the water beside her. Clamping a hand around her waist, he lifted her to the landing.
“Hurry,” he urged, while her fingers fumbled for a holding.
She grasped a slimy post and hauled herself over the handrail, tumbling into a bedraggled heap on the boardwalk. David scampered after her, not a moment too soon judging from the angry splash rending the night. Then the danger slithered off into the watery depths.
Breathless with relief, Marla forced herself to her feet. She eyed David’s sodden form as he gazed at her with concern.
“I was attacked,” she said, her teeth chattering from shock. “Someone pushed me into the water.”
“It’s all right. You’re safe now.” Stepping forward, he held her close and patted her dripping hair.
“Ouch! I must have a bruise there. He hit my head against the railing and then tossed me over. Did you see anything?”
David moved back a few steps to regard her with a somber expression. “Someone moved in this direction, but I figured it must be you.”
They trudged toward the house, their wet shoes making squishing noises.
“What should we tell my family?”
“We had a craving for alligator meat, but the big one got away,” David suggested in a teasing tone. “Seriously, I think we should keep quiet about what happened. If we’re lucky, we can sneak inside and get cleaned up before anyone sees us. Your cousins must have some clothes we can borrow.”
But as they approached the brightly lit house, screams pierced the night, bloodcurdling cries that turned Marla’s veins to ice. A cluster of her relatives gestured wildly as she and David rushed toward the patio.
“Rebecca fell into the pool,” Aunt Polly told her. “Do something.”
Marla watched, horrified, as Bruce lifted the girl’s limp body into the waiting arms of her father. Michael stared down into his daughter’s lifeless face and howled in anguish.
“Call 911,” Marla yelled. Scooping Rebecca from her brother’s arms, she laid the girl on the ground and began CPR. David knelt to assist her. With crushing relief, Marla saw the girl’s chest rise in a shuddering breath. Water spewed from her mouth as she vomited. Marla tilted her to the side, glad to see her bluish color receding as breathing was restored.
By the time the paramedics arrived, Rebecca had regained consciousness. She couldn’t have been under very long, Marla thought, muttering a prayer of thanks to the Almighty.
Charlene and Michael left to accompany Rebecca to the hospital, where the toddler would get a thorough checkup and remain for observation. They left their son, Jacob, in Anita’s solicitous care.
Reassured that everything was under control, Marla disappeared into a bathroom to scrub the swamp mud from her skin.
“Marla, are you in there?” called Cynthia, knocking on the door. “David said you had an accident and would need something to wear. Here’s a shorts set I can loan you.”
Marla swung open the door, a towel wrapped around her hair.
“Don’t give me that look,” Cynthia said, cringing. “I promise we’ll get a pool fence. I’ll order one first thing in the morning. You were right.”
“I’m just glad I was here to help.” Marla’s voice shook with emotion.
Cynthia bowed her head. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Marla, too choked up to speak, merely nodded.
“What happened to you and David?”
Marla told her about the intruder in the swamp. “It was definitely a man, someone who isn’t spending Thanksgiving with his family. You’ll remember to take photos of the stuff he dumped tonight and call me, right? This may be our only way to trace the guy. Now tell me how Rebecca ended up in the pool.”
Cynthia handed over the clean clothes. “We thought the kids were playing together. Bruce announced that the buffet was ready, and everyone went inside to fill a plate at the dining room table. I was supervising the staff to see that the chafing dishes remained full. Next thing I knew, Charlene was screaming.”
Marla didn’t learn anything new when she questioned the rest of her family. Although their responses were subdued, they wolfed down their meals. Knowing that Rebecca would survive had brought back voracious appetites. She managed to grab the last spoonful of sweet potatoes before Shark helped himself to seconds. Glancing at him curiously, she noticed water spots on his clothes. He hadn’t been around when she’d worked on Rebecca, had he? Come to think of it, she hadn’t noticed him or Annie in the vicinity.
Waiting for dessert, Marla drew Annie aside. “So when would you like me to cut your hair? I’ve got my shears in my purse.” She gave an encouraging smile.
“Not now.” Annie thrust her thumbs into her belt line. Her glance followed Shark, who swaggered to the table holding a plate heaped with brownies and rugelach. “At least he’s having a good time.”
“What does that mean?”
Annie glowered. “He’s been stuffing himself all night, and I don’t like the way he’s been ordering me around. First he wants me to put the hummus spread on crackers for him. Then he tells me to get him a plate of food. When he said I should get him a piece of pie, I told him to get it himself. What a conceited prick.”
“You filled his plate for dinner?”
Annie’s gaze downcast. “Yeah, like I’m his doormat.”
“Where was he?”
“Huh? He was waiting out here.”
“On the patio. Alone?”
“Heck, no. The kids were playing over there.” Her glance rose to the swing set. “Actually, Jacob came inside by himself.”
Marla’s pulse rate quickened. Making Annie promise to call her for a haircutting date, she excused herself and wandered over to the little boy. Busy eating a cookie and smearing chocolate around his face, he grinned through a mouthful of food. His thick head of wheat-colored hair and wide round eyes gave him an impish appearance. Anita hovered next to him, beaming with a grandmother’s glory as she watched him chew.
“Hey, Jacob,” Marla said, crouching down to his level. She exchanged a f
ew words with him, ruffled his hair and then rose. “Ma, did Jacob say why he went inside and left Rebecca?” she whispered out of the kid’s hearing.
Anita’s face pinched. “He said he had to use the bathroom. Someone had told him to wash his hands, or he wouldn’t be allowed to eat.”
“Who? Charlene?”
“No. She’d gone to get the kids their plates. I’ve asked Jacob, but he won’t tell me. I think he’s scared he’ll be blamed.”
“Or afraid to tell for other reasons.” Marla’s glance swung to Shark, who was peering at them intently. Their eyes met, and she stared him down until he looked away. Damned if she’d let him screw her family.
“You’re still coming over this Sunday, right?” Anita said.
“Yes, I’ll see you then.” She hadn’t been able to make their date this past weekend due to a last-minute wedding party. Another beautician had canceled, and Marla had been asked to substitute. Being a sap for a hard case made refusal impossible. Besides, the pay had made it worthwhile.
Marla retrieved her purse and proceeded to make her farewells until David waylaid her in the living room.
“Where are you going? You’re not leaving, are you? We haven’t made plans to see each other again.” His eyes regarded her with warmth.
“I’m afraid I’m busy for the rest of this week,” she said, a hint of regret in her tone. After all, the man had saved her life out in the swamp. “Tomorrow after work, I promised to take my colleagues for pizza. I’ve had to rearrange so many appointments lately that I feel I owe them a reward. Saturday night, I’m treating my friend Tally to dinner. Her husband will be out of town, and we haven’t seen each other for a while. And Sunday is the day to visit my mother and get my chores done.”
“Well, aren’t you the busy lady. I guess things will be more frantic with only three weeks to the fund-raiser. Say, I want to call Mustafa to request he add a certain item from his menu for Taste of the World. Do you still have that envelope Ben gave you with Mustafa’s phone number?”
She gazed at him quizzically. “Yes, I put it somewhere, but didn’t you get the chef’s business card? You can call him at his restaurant.”
David smiled, reaching out to pull her close. The smell of fresh air and earth clung to him. A lock of hair swept his forehead, crowning arches of bristly eyebrows. “You’re right, as always. Let me know if you hear anything new regarding Popeye’s heir.”
“I will.” She gazed into his face, her eyes searching his. How did she really feel about this man?
His gaze darkening, David lowered his head to graze his lips against hers. “We make a good team,” he murmured. “I see something permanent in our future.”
You see more than I do, pal.
Marla drew back, detaching herself from his embrace. His kisses were lukewarm, almost obligatory. Was he merely being polite, saving his passion for later? While she felt drawn to him, the reasons why eluded her. Sure, he acted like a gentleman, but was that his appeal? Or did her family’s approval have more to do with her attraction? Perhaps she was falling into the same trap as she had with Stan. Craving respect from her relatives after her disastrous past, she’d succumbed to Stan’s powerful personality. She didn’t need to go down that same road twice.
Let’s get past the fundraiser, and then I’ll examine my motives.
Saturday night, she confided her concerns to Tally. Purposefully avoiding restaurants owned by chefs participating in Taste of the World, she’d suggested a local steak place. With her hearty appetite, Tally had happily agreed.
“How can Detective Vail think I may be endangered by David’s company?” Marla said between bites of salad. “David has been looking after my safety.”
“So who does that leave as suspects in Ben’s death?” Tally asked, flinging a strand of blond hair from her eyes.
Marla held up her fingers as she ran through the list. “Babs Winrow, who visits Orlando when she’s supposed to be in Tampa. Dr. Russ Taylor, who needs money to cover a mysterious debt. Darren Shapiro, the banker who slinks away on weekend nights. Stefano Barletti, whose Pre-Need funeral arrangements are probably overpriced. Digby Raines, a politician who likes women as much as the polls.”
“And don’t leave out your cousin Cynthia. Means, motive and opportunity?”
Marla laughed. “Now you sound like Vail. Let’s see. Ben was suing Stefano on behalf of some disgruntled customers. Digby may have felt threatened by Ben on election eve. They were entangled in a scandal years past which gave Ben a hold over him. Darren inadvertently provided the murder weapon.” She paused. “Whoever is Popeye’s heir had reason enough to kill the lawyer as well as the trustee in order to hide his identity.”
“If Ocean Guard fails to meet its obligations and this person inherits, you’ll all know their identity,” Tally wisely pointed out.
“Tell me about it.”
“What’s Vail’s opinion?”
“He’s not very forthcoming with information. I have no clue which one of the board members he thinks is guilty.”
Wishing to eliminate Cynthia from her list, Marla queried her mother the next day. As usual when she visited Anita, Marla found herself seated at the kitchen table and served a meal.
“What did Cynthia have against Ben Kline?” she asked.
Anita smoothed a manicured hand over her sleek white hair. “I didn’t want to mention this earlier, bubeleh. You must promise not to tell anyone what I’m about to reveal.”
Marla’s ears perked up. She’d thought only her past held a dastardly secret.
“You know Corbin, whom we haven’t seen for a while? Well, I can tell you where he is: spending time in the clinker. Cynthia hired Ben to defend her brother against felony charges, but Ben screwed up, and Corbin got put away. Cynthia felt she’d paid Ben for nothing and accused him of ripping her off.”
Marla swallowed a bite of gefilte fish before she replied. “How angry was my cousin?”
Anita frowned. “Not enough to kill Ben, if that’s what you’re thinking. Shame on you, daughter, for suspecting a member of your own family.”
“I’m just covering all the angles,” Marla said in her best imitation of Vail’s impassive voice. Damn, why did that man keep creeping into her consciousness? “Anyway, you were going to tell me about your Pre-Need funeral arrangements.” Reaching into her purse, she retrieved a bunch of papers. “Here’s the estimate I got from Stefano Barletti.”
Anita took a seat and perused the forms. “These numbers are way out of line. Mine came to less, but your father and I bought our plans years ago. I called my Pre-Need counselor, and this is the quote he gave me for you.” She picked up a scrap of paper she’d left on the table. “You can get a decent casket in poplar for $1295. Professional services, removal of the body, refrigeration, and use of a chapel shouldn’t cost more than $1400. Cemetery services come to $650. Adding in the plot and extras, your total comes to approximately $5000.”
“Wow, that’s quite a difference. Babs was right. She said Stefano charged higher prices than elsewhere. I wonder if he’d do a price match.”
“You can shop around, even for funeral expenses,” Anita advised, “but you only have that luxury if you plan things ahead of time.”
“Can I take this paper? I may need it as an excuse to see Stefano again.”
“Why don’t you leave the murder investigation to your policeman friend?”
“Someone has targeted me, Ma. David and I must have been followed to Nassau, because someone tried to clunk me on the head with a coconut, and Popeye’s trustee was murdered. A dead duck was left on my doorstep at home, and my house was invaded. Dalton isn’t revealing his findings, so I have to act on my own.”
“My God, Marla. Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“Why? So you wouldn’t look as upset as you do now.” She smiled reassuringly. “Look, I don’t want to disappoint Cynthia. She’s relying on me to keep the fund-raiser on track.”
“Yes, but you’re
putting yourself at risk.”
Marla raised a hand. “Say no more about it. I’ll watch my back, but I won’t quit.”
Anita gave a resigned sigh. “I liked the way you did Cynthia’s hair. It’s about time she changed her style.”
“She wants me to cut Annie’s hair,” Marla said, beaming with pride.
“That girl is a problem. She’s blind-sided by that fellow, Shark. I don’t like him.”
“Neither do I.” Marla had left a message for Dalton Vail on Friday, giving Shark’s tag number which she’d copied down upon leaving Cynthia’s house on Thanksgiving. It brought to mind something else she needed to do.
Chapter Seventeen
As soon as she got home from visiting her mother, Marla put Spooks on his leash and walked over to Goat’s house. “Hey, pal,” she said when her neighbor opened the door. A strong scent of pine spray wafted from the interior.
Shirtless, Goat sported a sheepskin cap and wore some kind of jungle-printed fabric wrapped around his hips. A necklace of polished shark’s teeth adorned his neck.
“Marla! Bringing your pooch over for a grooming?” Chewing on what looked like a twig, he regarded her closely.
She glanced at his minivan parked in the driveway. The words, The Gay Groomer, were emblazoned on its side in brilliant aquamarine against a background of canary yellow.
“Not today, thanks. I was wondering if you’d seen that blue sedan around here again.”
A strange light entered his eyes. First his head bobbed, and then his body undulated. “Ugamaka, ugamaka, chugga, chugga, ush,” he chanted. “One bird in the heather, one in the bush. Grab it, twist it, until it goes squoosh!”
“What does that mean?” Marla asked, squinting. “You said those same words before, right after the dead duck landed on my doorstep.”
“Squoosh,” he repeated, twisting his hands as though wringing out a wet cloth.
Marla caught the note of agony in his voice. “Please tell me, Goat. Did you see something that upset you?”
Hair Raiser Page 18
