by B. J Daniels
A flash of silver caught her eye. A small fishing boat was tied up under some bushes. She picked up the emergency paddle her father kept on board and maneuvered her boat under the limbs of a clump of bushes in a small cove—a spot just far enough away that when whoever owned the fishing boat returned, neither she nor her boat could be seen. But she could see him.
She didn’t have to wait long.
The man she’d seen earlier behind the restricted area, the same one who’d come into the bakery that morning, appeared from behind the bushes. He was carrying a small navy duffel bag. The bottom of the bag, which was thick with the mustard-yellow mud from behind the restricted area, sagged under the weight of whatever was inside.
He put the bag carefully down in the bow, then untied the bow rope from a branch, shoved out the craft and jumped in. His boat motor spurted to life an instant later.
She watched him angle away, heading west. He was going along the far side of the island, the side opposite from the office. So no one would see him?
She waited, then eased her boat out of the cove with the paddle, moving along the edge of the bushes until she could see him again. A little farther up the lake in the shallows was a favorite spot for lake-trout fishing. He headed for that as if it had been his destination all along. But he didn’t stop to fish. He kept going until he was past the island. Past the spot where Trevor’s boat had been found with his body inside.
The man turned once to look back at the island, then he hit the throttle and headed north up the lake.
What was in the bag he’d brought out of the restricted area of the island? And who was he?
She remembered her reaction to him in the bakery that morning. That instant when she’d seen him in the trees. And his shock of recognition just before he’d ducked out of sight.
The sun had dropped behind the mountains, leaving the lake’s surface bathed in gold.
Jill waited, hanging back, then she followed him.
Chapter Eight
Jill watched from a distance as the man tied up the fishing boat to the stern of a houseboat docked at the far end of the marina and disappeared inside it. He’d left the duffel bag in the fishing boat, but she knew there was no way to get a look at the contents until after dark.
In the long, cool shadows of the pines stretching out over the water, she pulled her boat up on shore and walked toward the Bandit’s Bay Marina office. The fading sunset streaked the lake’s surface like oil. She could hear music coming from the jukebox at the Beach Bar, the sound of children splashing in the swimming area, the drone of a motorboat crossing the lake.
As she stepped into the marina office, she kept her eye on the houseboat, afraid he would come out and see her and know she’d followed him.
“Well, hello!”
Jill turned to see Brenna behind the marina-office counter.
“Mom bribed me with dinner if I’d come by and help,” Brenna said, coming around the counter to give Jill a hug. “She’s making her famous barbecued pork ribs. She would love it if you could stay for dinner.”
“Thanks, but I really can’t.” Especially tonight. She smiled at her friend. Brenna was as sweet as she was pretty and smart. She could have been anything, but she’d opted to go into journalism, got a job at the local paper and stuck around Bigfork to help her family at the marina in her spare time.
“How are you doing?” Brenna asked, studying Jill.
“Okay.”
“I’m still trying to find out more about this Rachel person for you,” Brenna said. “It would help if we had a last name.”
Jill nodded, hating to ask. “I have another favor.”
“Sure.”
“I need to know who owns that houseboat tied up at the far end of the docks,” she said.
“The one down in the old slips?”
Jill nodded.
“Does this have anything to do with Trevor’s murder?”
“Possibly.”
Brenna flipped through the file and pulled out a card. “Mackenzie Cooper. Listed a post-office box in Whitefish as permanent address.”
“I wonder what he’s doing here?”
She looked up from the card. “Fishing, I would imagine. Speaking of fishing—”
“I saw him out on the island earlier and I got the impression he didn’t want to be seen.”
“You went out to the island? Oh, you couldn’t get me near that place. I can’t believe you went out there by yourself.”
“Wesley was there.” She didn’t mention Nathaniel Pierce. Not even to Brenna. “The place is way creepy. Especially the south end where I saw this Mackenzie Cooper guy.”
“Jill, if you think he knows something about Trevor’s murder, you should call the sheriff.”
“All the man’s done so far is trespass. I want to do some checking on him first.”
“I can put him in the computer as soon as I get home,” Brenna promised. “Want me to call you if I come up with anything, if it isn’t too late?”
“Even if it’s late. You don’t know anything about him?”
Brenna shook her head. “He really keeps to himself. Except I have seen him go to the Beach Bar. Usually in the evening just before dark. He doesn’t stay long. Has a beer and walks back to his boat. I’d say he was lonely, except he doesn’t look like the lonely type.”
Jill nodded. Mackenzie Cooper had no reason to be lonely—unless he chose to be.
“He’s really good-looking.”
“I suppose so.” Jill felt her cheeks flush. “You wouldn’t be interested in having a beer later, after dinner, at the Beach Bar, would you?”
Brenna smiled. “I’d love to have a beer with you— Oh, no, you don’t.”
“I just need you to detain him as long as you can,” Jill said quickly. “Buy him a beer. He can’t say no, right?”
“Wrong. What are you planning to do?”
“It’s probably better if you don’t know.”
Brenna groaned. “Tell me you aren’t going aboard his boat.”
“Okay, I’m not going aboard.” She quickly hugged her friend. “I really appreciate this.”
“What if I can’t keep him in the bar long enough?” Brenna asked, sounding scared. “We need some kind of signal so you’ll know he’s coming back to his boat. I could ring the bell down at the gas docks. It isn’t very loud, though.”
“That’s perfect.” Jill smiled. “You’re the best.”
“Just be careful. I’d feel a lot better if Trevor’s killer was behind bars and we knew more about this Mackenzie Cooper.”
Wouldn’t they all? Jill thought as she returned the ski boat to her father’s dock. His car was in the driveway, but his fishing boat was still gone. Gary fished most days until dark. She wondered if he was alone. She’d heard he’d been playing a lot of bingo lately with one of the ladies from the seniors center and that the woman liked to fish.
On the drive to her apartment, Jill thought about the idea of her father remarrying. It had been four years since her mother had died. Still, it seemed too soon for her father to have found someone else. Jill knew she was being selfish, but she couldn’t help it.
Didn’t she want to see her father find love again? As if it was that easy to find it even once, let alone twice in a lifetime.
A cool breeze stirred the large poplar tree next to her bakery as she parked the van and got out. She had enough time to get something to eat and change clothes.
She glanced down the street and saw Arnie’s black sports car. Her stomach clenched at the sight. He was the last person she wanted to see. It had been a long day, and she was tired and hungry and in no mood for him.
But the car appeared to be empty. Maybe he was at the video store down the block or one of the restaurants along the main drag.
She climbed the back steps to her apartment, her thoughts returning to the island and the man she’d seen. Mackenzie Cooper. What had he carried off the island in that duffel bag?
As she started to
open the apartment door with her key, she stopped, momentarily confused to find the door already slightly ajar. Beyond it, she could hear someone inside her apartment. Not again!
She started to turn back down the stairs, intending to go out to her van and call the sheriff’s department from her cell phone, when she heard Arnie’s voice.
Cautiously she pushed open the door and peered in. The bedroom door was open and she could see Arnie digging through one of her kitchen drawers as if looking for something. He was talking to himself, although she couldn’t make out the words.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, stepping into the apartment.
He looked up, startled to see her, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he grinned sheepishly. “You caught me,” he said, and closed the drawer. “I was looking for a pen to leave you a note.”
It was an obvious lie. He’d been searching the back of the drawer as if looking for something other than a pen. “How did you get in here?”
“I just changed all of your locks,” he said. “Oh, you didn’t know I moonlight for Doug’s Key and Safe?”
No, she hadn’t known that when she’d called them. But then, Doug’s was the only locksmith in town.
Arnie held out her new keys. “That’s why I was leaving you the note. The larger key fits the front door of the bakery, the smaller one the back door. You get two keys each, but you should probably make at least one spare.”
She took the keys he handed her. “How many spares did you make?”
He looked insulted. “You really don’t trust me, do you.”
“Should I?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I was such a jerk when we were kids. But you’ve never made the effort to get to know me since we’ve been adults.”
“Can you blame me?”
He seemed to consider that. “No, I guess not.” He smiled. “Sorry if I scared you. I wanted to make sure you had new locks before tonight.”
“Thanks.” He was making her feel like a real bitch.
He started toward the door, then stopped. “Do you have any idea who might have killed Trevor?”
The question took her by surprise. “No. Do you?”
He shook his head.
“Did you know it was Alistair’s idea that Trevor marry me?” she asked, not realizing she was going to.
Arnie looked away.
“So you did know.” Everyone had known but her.
“Trevor was…” He waved a hand, looked at the floor, then at her. “I know how he was, but I miss him.” He shrugged. “He and I were close, you know?”
She nodded, feeling the need to say something. “He always said you were his best friend.”
Arnie smiled. “Thanks.”
Maybe Arnie Evans was right. Maybe she didn’t know him. And maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all.
“There is one more thing,” Arnie said slowly. He looked embarrassed, unsure. “Trevor had something of mine. An IOU from an old gambling debt. If you run across it…”
So that was what he’d been looking for.
“I’ll call you and let you know, but I haven’t seen it,” she said. How like Trevor to hold Arnie to a gambling debt.
“I knew you’d give it to me if you found it.” Arnie stepped toward her until he was only an arm’s length away. His dark eyes bored into hers as he looked down at her. “I wish I could change the past,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
Then, before she could react, he grabbed her upper arms, pulled her to him and kissed her. His kiss was hard and wet, his tongue forcing her lips apart, plundering her surprised mouth.
Then just as suddenly, he let go of her and stepped back, seeming surprised and embarrassed by his impetuousness. “I’m sorry. I just…” He stumbled backward to the door and then was gone.
Jill stared after him for a moment before she hurried to the door, closed and locked it. Leaning against it, she wiped her mouth with her hand, wanting to scrub the taste of him from her and at the same time wanting to rejoice.
Arnie Evans had not been the man in the cottage last night! She wanted to shout it from the rooftop.
Her buoyant mood fell like a lead balloon. When she told the deputies, she’d destroy her alibi.
Not just hers, but Arnie’s. So why had he lied? Was he just trying to help her—or was he the one who really needed the alibi?
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She needed to shower and brush her teeth to banish every trace of Arnie Evans. The fact that he hadn’t been her lover still cheered her to no end. She’d known in her heart he wasn’t the man. She’d known!
But what had he really been looking for when she’d come into the apartment? An IOU? Or something else?
She opened her eyes and pushed away from the door when something crunched under the sole of her shoe. Looking down, she spotted the dried yellow mud on her floor. It must have come from Arnie’s work boots, because she’d cleaned the apartment this morning after it had been ransacked last night.
Arnie had been in the restricted area of the island!
What was behind that steel fence that had recently attracted so many people there?
She had no idea, but she was going to find out. The sun was down and soon she’d find out what Mackenzie Cooper had brought out of the restricted area in his duffel bag.
JILL WAITED in the cool shadows of the pines at the edge of the water until she saw Mackenzie Cooper leave his houseboat and walk up to the Beach Bar, just as Brenna said he did every evening.
The Beach Bar was a classic Montana bar with silver dollars, elk antlers and stuffed lake trout on the walls. Brenna’s family had built the bar at the end of the pier on pilings so that it overlooked the marina resort. One whole side was open to the air with stools and a few tables.
It was where both locals and tourists hung out, one of the few bars on the water and definitely blue-collar and fishermen friendly. Country-and-western music throbbed from the jukebox, blending with the sound of voices and the lap of water against the docks.
Jill waited until Mackenzie Cooper was well on his way to the bar before she slipped out of the pines and headed for the houseboat tied at the farthest dock from the marina, about thirty yards offshore.
She’d known she wouldn’t be able to just walk down the dock to the boat without being seen. That left only one way out to the houseboat with any hope of going undetected. Swim.
No light glowed inside the houseboat as she waded into the dark water. She couldn’t be sure that Brenna would be able to keep him at the bar. Jill couldn’t even be sure that tonight he wouldn’t change his routine, cut the evening short and return before she’d had time to search the houseboat and get away again.
She took a deep breath. She’d worn a shortie wet suit and a waterproof bag clipped to her waist with what she could find for tools to break into the boat. The water chilled her exposed skin as she dived under the surface. The small dry bag at her waist slowed her as she began to swim underwater through the open area to the docks.
She needed to stay under to keep from being seen for as long as she could. Once she reached the docks, she could swim alongside them to the houseboat.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, beating faster at just the thought of what she’d find in the duffel bag.
She tried to gauge her distance. If she surfaced too soon, she could be spotted from the bar. If she didn’t surface soon enough, she’d come up under the docks.
Her pulse spiked when she thought of being caught under a dock again. When she was nine, she and a neighbor boy had been playing and decided to hide under the dock at her house. She’d gotten her suit caught on a nail.
She released a little of her held breath now, swimming through the cold darkness, calculating in her head how far she’d come, how much farther she had to go and trying not to remember that day so many years ago when she was trapped under the dock.
She was already running out of air, her growing panic stealing too much oxygen, stealing too
much of the time she would be able to stay underwater. Something brushed her bare leg. Just weeds, she knew, but her panic, her fear fueled by the memory of almost drowning all those years ago, took over.
She surfaced in a rush, gasping for air, surprised by how far she still was from the docks and the houseboat. She shot a look toward the bar. She could see Mackenzie Cooper sitting on a stool, boot heels hooked on the rung, a beer bottle in his hand, a lazy look on his face, all his focus on the woman before him. Brenna. Thank heaven for Brenna.
Diving beneath the surface again, Jill swam toward the docks, more aware of the distance yet spurred on by a need to see what the man had found on the island today.
At last, she reached the docks and surfaced, then swam alongside to the houseboat and climbed the short ladder onto the deck. She stood dripping and trying to catch her breath as she heard the distinct sound of footsteps on the dock headed her way. Was it possible he was already coming back? That Brenna had rung the bell while Jill was underwater?
Jill placed a hand over her thumping heart as she realized there was more than one person coming down the dock. She could hear the voices, the clink of ice in glasses and the sound of laughter.
Peeking around the bow of the houseboat, Jill saw four people headed for a sailboat in a slip about fifty yards away. Mackenzie Cooper’s boat was isolated from any of the other boats. She suspected that was the way he wanted it, which made her all the more suspicious.
The people boarded the sailboat, laughing and talking loudly, and Jill pulled the penlight from the dry bag at her waist and crept back to the stern of the houseboat where the small fishing boat had been tied.
Shining the light into the bottom of the fishing boat, she saw that the duffel bag wasn’t still there. But then, she hadn’t expected it to be. She’d noticed the way he’d carried the duffel, the way he’d laid it carefully in the bow of his fishing boat. Whatever he’d found in the restricted area of the island, it was something valuable, something too valuable to leave out in the fishing boat.
