A Time to Swill

by Sherry Harris

  “We got a call once you were back onshore from someone with the fire department,” Bill explained. His voice was gentle. Almost too gentle, as if he was beginning to think I’d made the whole thing up.

  “Then maybe someone onshore saw who dropped me off.” A lot of people had gathered behind the Sea Glass; surely someone knew the man or knew his boat. I turned to where Joaquín and Vivi stood and called over, “Joaquín, do you know the name of the man who rescued me?”

  Joaquín shook his head. “I was so relieved to see you, I barely looked at him.”

  “Ralph was outside, but the rest of the crowd were a bit of a blur,” I said. “Maybe the reporter got his name.” I looked back and forth between Bill and Alex hopefully.

  “We’ll check into it,” Bill said.

  “Why was the crowd out there if they didn’t know I’d been found?”

  “My understanding was they were setting up search parties.”

  “Do you have any other questions? I’m exhausted. I got in late last night and woke up early.”

  “No more for now,” Bill said.

  “Will you let me know if you find the boat?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Bill said as Alex said, “No.”

  I stood and so did they. I handed over the ring to them. As I headed back to the bar, they peeled off and went over to Ralph.

  * * *

  As much as I wanted to go home and go to bed, I settled on a barstool. I wanted to talk to Ralph when the Coast Guard was done with him.

  “More coffee?” Joaquín asked.

  I held out my cup, grateful to him. “Yes, please.”

  Joaquín poured another cup for me and pushed the white mug with the turquoise Sea Glass Saloon logo across the bar. Wisps of steam spiraled up from the coffee.

  “What did they ask you?” Vivi asked.

  I filled them in as I let the coffee cool.

  “We didn’t even know you were back,” Joaquín said again.

  “I’m sorry. I got back late last night and didn’t want to wake anyone.” Joaquín fished at the crack of dawn every morning the weather was good. Calling Vivi would have been awkward. We had a complicated relationship, but I think she was getting used to me and me to her.

  I drank some of the coffee. When I’d first arrived in June she hadn’t wanted me here, but after I solved a murder she’d been accused of, she’d thawed a bit. I’d spent the rest of the summer working my butt off, too busy to worry about what the future held or to be sad that I’d been downsized from my job as a children’s librarian in Chicago. I’d taken a break and gone home to collect my belongings. While I was in Chicago, I threw an engagement party for my former roommate and made the rounds saying goodbye to family, friends, and former colleagues. I’d even managed to go to Trivia Night with my librarian friends. Now, I was here to settle into my new life.

  “How did you know I was out on the boat?” I asked.

  “Delores called me,” Vivi said. “Someone from the Sheriff’s Department found your shoes and key chain sitting on the beach. I confirmed they were yours.” She paused. “It was a terrible moment.”

  That punched me in the gut. “I’m sorry.”

  “And Vivi called me. We were about to set out on our own search, along with half the boat owners from Emerald Cove,” Joaquín said.

  “Did you recognize the man who dropped me off?” I asked.

  “Like I said, I didn’t pay him no never mind.”

  Sometimes I thought Joaquín had an inner Southern granny in him.

  “I knew that reporter was lurking and I wanted to get you in the Sea Glass before she could bother you,” Joaquín said.

  “I don’t know who he was and would like to thank him again.” And ask him who he called if it wasn’t the Coast Guard. “Hopefully, someone in that crowd recognized him and will let me know.” I drank more coffee. “Bill said no one called in saying they had me. But the man called someone. I wonder who?”

  Vivi looked over my shoulder, so I turned on my barstool. The two Coast Guard officers, Ralph, and Delores all stood and then headed our way. The Coast Guard officers passed with curt nods and “We’ll be in touch” statements. Ralph and Delores stopped at the bar. Ralph’s brow was creased with deep lines and his eyes looked pained with sorrow. Delores, on the other hand, looked as fiery as her red hair.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. Stupid, stupid question. How could he be?

  “I will be. Hate reliving this again.”

  Delores took Ralph’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you fed before your blood sugar drops.” She looked us over. “Y’all take care.”

  None of us spoke until we heard the heavy back door close.

  “What’s he talking about?” I asked.

  “When his wife disappeared, Ralph was a suspect,” Vivi said. “And when he filed to have her declared dead, it came up again.”

  “He was cleared both times,” Joaquín said.

  “Let’s hope the third time isn’t the charm,” I murmured. I didn’t want Ralph to be arrested.

  CHAPTER 7

  I stood on the screened porch of Boone’s house, my house—I was still adjusting to it being mine—looking out at the Gulf. The storms had passed, the sky dazzled a showy blue, the water its trademark emerald green—the reason this area was called the Emerald Coast. The house was made of cement blocks and was as sturdy as could be. It was a two-bedroom, two-bath with an open floor plan. I hadn’t made many changes to it. So the walls and furniture were still all beige. I’d added a few throw pillows, but other than that, it was all Boone’s style.

  Vivi had insisted that I take the rest of the day off even though I’d protested. She had also insisted on taking care of Pippi. She said so I didn’t have to go buy pet supplies, but I think Vivi had an ulterior-motive/love-at-first-sight thing going on. I didn’t have it in me to argue . . . for once.

  I’d already gone to Destin to buy a new phone—good grief I was dependent on that thing—and carried in the rest of my belongings from my car, those acts alone making me realize how tired and overwhelmed I was. My muscles all ached. I wanted to nap, but I was too keyed up. So I selected a beer, took it back out to the porch, and sat on a cushioned wicker chair. Hard to believe this was my house, my view. The house was isolated down a long drive with stands of tall loblolly pines and coastal forest made up of scrub oak and magnolia trees on either side.

  I thought about Pippi and put up some posts describing her on local Emerald Cove social media pages in case she was lost. For Vivi’s sake I kind of hoped no one would claim her. After I finished I popped open the beer, toasted skyward to Boone, and took a sip. A wooden walkway led from the porch over the sea oats waving on the dunes to the white, sandy beach. I was restless and thought about grabbing one of the paddleboards under the porch. A knock on my front-porch door came just in time to save me from heading out.

  I trotted to the door and opened it. Rhett Barnett stood there with his dark, wavy hair, deep, green eyes, and long, enviable lashes. Here I was, sunburned, sweaty, covered in dried saltwater, and looking near my worst. I ran a hand through my short hair, which was plastered to my head. I’m pretty sure I smelled like a fish left out on the beach for a few days.

  “Hot stuff,” Rhett said.

  “Hi.” I blushed, knowing that wasn’t true. At least not right now.

  He held up a bag. “I brought a late lunch. Two Hot Stuff burritos.”

  Oh, he wasn’t talking about me. I pushed aside the disappointment. My stomach rumbled loudly as I smelled spicy chorizo and hot sauce. Rhett just grinned. It’s nothing he hadn’t heard before. I’d gotten over being embarrassed about the rumbles long ago. “It’s so good to see you. Come in.” So good to see you? I sounded like some lovesick protagonist in a Victorian novel. Next thing you know I’d need smelling salts and a fainting couch.

  “Is that from Maria’s?” I asked.

  “It is.”

  Maria and her husband, Arturo, ran a food truck in Emerald Cove with
the best Mexican food in the Panhandle according to Rhett. “Let’s eat on the porch. Want a beer?” Wow, I’d actually put coherent sentences together.

  “A beer sounds great.” Rhett flashed a smile before he walked toward the porch.

  I opened the refrigerator and stuck my whole head in, hoping to cool it off.

  “You okay?” Rhett called.

  I jerked my head up, hit the shelf, and bottles of water tumbled out. I picked out a beer. “Just looking for this.” I backed out of the refrigerator and held it up. Not that there was much else in the refrigerator, because I’d cleaned it out before I left. I shoved the water bottles to the side with my foot. I’d pick them up later. I gathered plates, utensils, and paper towels to use as napkins.

  As I headed to the porch, I realized I hadn’t seen Rhett for almost four months. Right after I’d solved a murder, he’d left town. I’d heard he’d bought a new, bigger boat and was traveling around the Caribbean. Before he left I’d thought there were some sparks between us. But I might have killed them when he’d heard my original plan was to return to my job in Chicago.

  Once on the porch I handed Rhett the beer and set down the plates, utensils, and napkins on the wicker coffee table. He looked comfortable sitting out here, but he’d probably been here often when Boone was still alive. Rhett was a year older than him, but they’d gone to the same public schools here.

  “Excuse me for just a minute. Go ahead and start.” I turned to my right and went through the sliding glass doors that led to my bedroom. I went to the bathroom, quickly stripped, and took a fast shower. A cold one. I threw on some leggings and a tunic and went back out after running my hands through my hair. This wasn’t ideal, but at least I didn’t stink.

  Rhett had put an aluminum-wrapped burrito on both plates. He’d also taken out a paper basket full of tortilla chips and containers of salsa and guacamole.

  “You could have started,” I said as I sat in a wicker chair adjacent to the love seat he sat on.

  “My granny would knock the grits out of me if I did something so uncouth.” Rhett grinned as he unwrapped his burrito.

  I’d met his grandmother once and I was pretty sure she would knock the grits out of Rhett if he ever called her “Granny” to her face. She was a lady, and an intimidating one, as tiny as she was. I knew Rhett was from a wealthy, well-known family, but I didn’t know much more than that.

  “What’s your family like?” I asked right before I took a big bite of my burrito.

  Rhett had picked up his burrito, but now set it back down. “Hard to capture them in one or two sentences. You’d probably have to meet them.”

  Meet his family? Too soon, way too soon. And if his grandmother was an example of what to expect, no, thank you.

  “Some of them think they’re Southern aristocracy and cling to how things used to be.” He used air quotes around “used to be.” “That group loves a good cotillion and debutante ball. Some are lawyers or doctors. Some live in the backwoods, off the grid.”

  “So they’re complicated, like most big families.” I could relate to that with my large extended family.

  “They are.”

  “I heard you bought a new boat and spent the summer cruising.” I hoped I’d kept my tone light and breezy instead of needy and hurt because he’d left without a goodbye. Rhett had been a criminal defense lawyer in Birmingham, but had left for some reason and returned to Emerald Cove, where he was a volunteer fireman.

  “I did.”

  “Was it fun?” I asked.

  “Parts of it were.” Rhett stared down at his burrito and didn’t elaborate.

  I almost inhaled my food—I guess being swept out to sea on a ghost ship and finding a skeleton gave me an appetite. I only took breaks to sip a beer and glance at Rhett as he ate. When I finished, I licked a bit of hot sauce from my pinkie and looked up to find Rhett watching me with a look I couldn’t interpret. Want? Desire? Disgust? I’m guessing no one licked their fingers at Rhett’s family’s house. My whole body heated up. Maybe I needed to go stick my head back in the refrigerator.

  “Are you feeling okay? You looked flushed,” Rhett said.

  “Hot sauce,” I managed to get out while simultaneously wishing I’d just combust and disappear. “I’m going to get a glass of water. You want another beer?”

  “Water sounds great. I could get it for you.”

  “Nope. You just stay put. Moving keeps my muscles loose.”

  In the kitchen I stuffed the water bottles I’d knocked out back into the refrigerator. I took a pitcher of cold water and set it on the counter. After I grabbed two Mason jars I used for glasses, I poured the water and carried it out to the porch. Even though Rhett reached out for his glass I set it on the coffee table. I didn’t want to risk our fingers brushing against each other and me blushing again.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. Might as well clear the air and the awkwardness that hung between us.

  Rhett laughed. “Chloe Jackson, you are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Last June he’d told me that I intrigued him. Now I was unlike anyone he’d met. I hoped that was a good thing. But I’m guessing between my snoring—it’s how we’d met—the stomach rumbles, and finger licking, it probably wasn’t. Not that it mattered, because I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I was still sorting out things with past relationships. Until I did that, I wasn’t in the mood for anything more than some friendly banter, even though the flushing and heating up said otherwise.

  “I came to check on you. I was still out searching when I heard you’d returned.”

  Rhett had been out searching? For me? Well, that just gave my heart an arrhythmia. I did my best to ignore it.

  “They notified the volunteer fire department once a deputy found your sneakers and key chain on the beach with no sign of you or the boat you called in about.”

  Ah, so he was out there in an official capacity, but he didn’t have to bring me food or keep me company. “Thank you for searching for me. As you can see, I’m fine.” Mostly fine, except for being achy and a bit emotional after everything that I’d been through. “And thank you for the food. It was delicious.” I looked down at the empty wrappings.

  “I should probably head out,” Rhett said. He stood, so I did too.

  We walked to the front door in an awkward silence. I didn’t want to ask when I’d see him again. “Thanks again,” I said.

  “Anytime,” he said as he headed to his car.

  “Hey, Rhett,” I called. He stopped and turned back toward me. “Did you see a red speedboat while you were out on the Gulf?”

  He thought for a moment. I liked that he took his time.

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s probably nothing, but I thought I saw a red boat heading toward me. I shot off a flare and they turned around and headed west. It was probably nothing. I’d been pretty shaken both physically and mentally by then.”

  Rhett frowned. “It might not be nothing. Besides the skeleton was there anything strange on the boat?”

  Word about the skeleton had spread quickly. “No. Not that I remember.” Maybe I’d take out Boone’s boat and do a little searching myself. The people on the red boat must be up to something and I wanted to know what.

  CHAPTER 8

  Rhett had reached his car—a BMW convertible—when I called out again, “Wait. Do you want to go on an adventure with me?”

  He turned and squinted at me. “You’re going whether I say yes or no, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. He had me there. “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  I was tired. “That would be lovely.”

  “Get what you need and hop in.”

  I ran into the house and gathered up my purse, the keys to Boone’s boat—it was still so hard to think of it as mine—a couple of beach towels, sunscreen, and several bottles of water. I tossed it all in a big, hot-pink tote. I made sure the doors were locked and headed out. Rhett was texting aw
ay on his phone, but when he looked up, he tossed it on the car seat. He took the tote from me, put it on the back seat, and rounded the car to open the door for me. I slid in and he shut it firmly.

  “What do you have planned?” Rhett asked once he got in the car.

  “A search for the boat I was on this morning.”

  Rhett gave me a long look before he started his car. He drove us to the Sea Glass and parked without asking any more questions. I almost dozed off on the ten-minute drive and yawned more than once. To keep myself awake, I’d dug around in my purse and found my sunglasses. We walked down the marina past the Sea Glass. I stopped by Boone’s boat. It was a twenty-footer, center console boat. Nothing fancy, but sturdy and dependable. I’d never taken it out on the Gulf before and only a few times on Choctawhatchee Bay. Emerald Cove was on a peninsula that separated the Bay from the Gulf.

  “Why don’t we take my boat?” Rhett asked.

  I had to admit I was curious about his brand-new cabin cruiser. And not piloting would be a relief. I didn’t want to admit how tired I was. “Thanks. Sounds good.”

  We walked behind Wade Thomas’s restaurant, the Briny Pirate. Wade provided all the food for the Sea Glass. We had a tiny kitchen, so if people were hungry for more than peanuts, they could order and someone would run the food over to them. It was a win-win for both places. We continued on past a low-slung condominium building and took a right onto a dock. After passing several boats Rhett jumped onto the deck of a beauty. At least forty-five feet long, with a cabin and onboard engines.

  “It’s amazing,” I said.

  Rhett grinned at me and held out his hand to help me onboard. “Wait until you see the inside.”

  He gave me a tour. Every detail was top-notch: king size bed, bathroom with a tub, chef’s kitchen, a guest cabin, and a comfy living area with a wall of shelves full of books. I lingered in front of them, astounded to see everything from the Hardy Boys to law books. Rhett had moved back here almost a year and a half ago.

  We came back out on the deck and climbed a ladder to the wheel. Rhett fired up the engines. The initial rumble shot up through my legs all the way to the top of my head. Whoa! Rhett backed the boat out of its slip with ease. We putted down the harbor heading toward the Gulf.