A Time to Swill

by Sherry Harris

  “It was Blake Farwell.”

  CHAPTER 37

  I looked at him and blinked a couple of times. “Blake Farwell who disappeared twelve years ago with Susan Harrington, Cartland Barnett, and Raquel Harrison? That Blake Farwell?” It couldn’t be. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought about the man who rescued me. I hadn’t noticed a resemblance between Jed and Blake. Jed! Jed who was sneaking around at night, apparently involved in a smuggling ring. Was Blake too? But if he was, why did he bring me back? He could have just left me to die or taken me somewhere and killed me.

  The thought that gave me pause, that sickened me, was wondering if Jed had something to do with Blake’s death. His own brother. No doubt I’d been mad at my brothers often enough over the years, but I would never have killed them.

  “Chloe.”

  I squinted up to see Deputy Biffle staring at me, a deep line between his eyes. “Yes?”

  “Yes, that Blake Farwell.”

  I clapped a hand to my mouth like I was physically trying to stop myself from blurting out anything. I should tell him about what Ann and I had seen last night, but I’d promised I wouldn’t say anything. For all I knew Deputy Biffle could be part of the smuggling ring.

  “Are you sure that you don’t have a connection to him? Know him from somewhere?”

  “No. I’d never seen him before.” If he was involved with the smuggling ring, why would he risk showing his face around here? “Have you told Jed?”

  “Yes. Before I came over here.”

  Had Jed known all along that his brother was alive? “Why did you come tell me?”

  “Because I wanted to know if you had any idea why he rescued you or why he ended up dead by your house.”

  “At the time I thought he was a random Good Samaritan who was out searching for me.” I looked out at the placid Gulf as if it would toss an answer up on the shore. The waves were barely more than a ripple, but how deceiving that was. The Gulf could turn on you in a minute, like so many people. I thought of Rip. I wasn’t ready to tell Deputy Biffle about Rip’s connection to the red boat either. Ducks in a row first.

  “To be honest,” I said, “I thought maybe the boat ending up by my house was deliberate. Some kind of warning for me to stay out of something. But now that it was Blake Farwell in the boat, I’ve changed my mind. It must have been random.” It wasn’t.

  Deputy Biffle pulled his sunglasses down his nose and studied me for a moment. “I’ve never trusted people who say, ‘to be honest.’ It makes me think everything else they’ve said is a lie.”

  Retorts circled like a school of fish in my head. “Think what you want. Do you have any other questions for me? I need to get back to work.”

  Deputy Biffle pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Not at this time. Do you have anything you need to tell me?”

  “Not at this time.” I headed back toward the bar.

  “Chloe,” Deputy Biffle called out.

  I stopped and waited for him to walk over to me. He gave me a long, serious look, and it was tempting to melt under the pressure of that look and tell him about last night.

  “Keep this under your hat for now. We’ve asked Jed to do the same.”

  “Will do.” With the amount of people telling me not to say anything about something, pretty soon I would have to quit speaking altogether.

  I trudged back up toward the Sea Glass.

  “Chloe,” a male voice called.

  This time it wasn’t Biffle. Even worse—it was Rip. But maybe I could dig some information out of him.

  I arranged my face in what I hoped was a friendly expression. “Hi.” By the surprised look on Rip’s face I’m not sure I succeeded.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You were just talking to Deputy Biffle, and earlier you almost knocked me into the harbor.”

  “It’s been a busy day.”

  “What did Biffle want?”

  “Following up on the boat that ran ashore by my house.” I paused. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about selling Boone’s boat and getting something more oceanworthy. Something faster. Like the red boat that followed us the day we went out searching for the Fair Winds.” Followed us. That was an understatement. I watched his face. He looked a little puzzled, but not guilty. Could Ann have been wrong? Or was that just wishful thinking because I wanted her to be?

  “Does that mean you’ve heard something about Steve’s will?”

  “No. But if I don’t keep positive, I’ll go nuts.” Not really a lie. I hadn’t heard anything about Steve’s will, but I’d seen something. I wondered if Rip was involved with that too, seeing as it was his cousin who was helping Steve. Being part of a smuggling ring and illegal wills meant he’d be in prison for a long time. I wouldn’t miss him one bit. That wasn’t entirely true. I’d miss the man I’d thought he was. I wondered if while he was gone all summer he’d been out smuggling.

  “I’d be happy to help you look for a boat,” Rip said after a couple of moments. “I’d still like to take you out to dinner—”

  “Can’t.” I waved a hand toward the Sea Glass. “Work. I’d better get back before I get fired. Sorry.”

  * * *

  Thursday morning I found a text from Michael that he’d sent around midnight. All it said was Patience.

  Really? The whole time I’d run this morning my feet seemed to slap out patience, patience, patience. It wasn’t my best quality. However, after I’d gone through my shower, breakfast, and getting ready routine, I had another text from Michael. This one said to meet him at the bar at eight, and bring Vivi.

  * * *

  Vivi, Michael, and I met at the Sea Glass to find out what Michael had learned. Joaquín was still out fishing.

  “I traced the account. The emails were sent from an account owned by Steve.”

  I took Vivi’s hand and gave it a triumphant squeeze. “I knew it. I knew Boone would never do that to you, Vivi.”

  “Or you, Chloe,” Vivi said. “But don’t we still have an issue, because the only reason we know this is because of Chloe’s snooping? Snooping that won’t hold up in court?”

  Vivi didn’t sound angry, which I was afraid she would be when she found out what I had done to get access to Steve’s computer. She sounded matter-of-fact, with a hint of pride.

  “It’s a problem. But I have more information,” Michael said. “I think we should call your lawyer, Vivi. We should meet with him and tell him what we know.”

  Vivi made the call. “I caught him on his way to his office. He has time to swing by.”

  I chopped fruit while we waited, too jittery to sit still and drink more of the coffee that Michael had brought along. Or maybe I was jittery from the coffee that Michael had brought. I paid close attention to what I was doing, because I didn’t care to lose a finger with the very sharp channel knife I was using.

  Michael strolled over to the shelf of books I’d put up. The one’s Vivi and I hadn’t yet talked about. Michael pulled a book from the shelf. “Oh, a Louise Penny novel I haven’t read yet. I thought I was behind on her series. And John Grisham’s A Time to Kill.” He looked over at me. “Are you the one with the excellent taste in reading?”

  I glanced over at Vivi. “Yes. I loved both of them. Help yourself.”

  Vivi walked over and stood beside Michael. “Chloe came up with the idea. What do you think about mixing books and booze?”

  “I think it’s brilliant,” Michael said.

  Vivi smiled. “So do I, although I didn’t at first. I guess we’ll have to get more shelves. If you have more books you want to bring in, Chloe.”

  Whew. Vivi never ceased to surprise me. “I do have more books.”

  “I have some I can donate to the cause,” Michael said. “Joaquín and I tend to overbuy. Then things get crowded, and there are only so many books you can keep on a boat.”

  George Colton hustled in. He wore a light-blue seersucker suit. I couldn’t
imagine a lawyer wearing that this time of year in Chicago. I set down the knife and washed the juice from my hands before joining the others at a table.

  We laid out the case for him. I explained about the emails, my suspicion that they weren’t really from Boone, and how I’d found out they weren’t.

  George frowned as I mentioned the way I’d gotten the emails. “What else have you found out?”

  Michael told him how unlikely it was that a will would be made when a soldier was out in the field for an operation. “I’ve confirmed that Boone was out on an operation during the time Steve claims the will was written.”

  “It’s the news we’ve been hoping for,” I said. I tried to remain calm on the outside, but inside I was jumping and yelling and shouting Yes and Take that, you bucket of slime, Steve.

  “It is, but as with your email evidence, it will have to be confirmed. An anonymous source won’t be enough,” George said. “It’s not that simple. Or quick. At the very least Steve has committed wire fraud. Perhaps impersonating a member of the Armed Forces if Steve forged the signatures.” George stroked his mustache. “I think we have enough to take to a federal prosecutor.”

  “I can’t wait to hear that Steve’s been arrested and charged,” I said.

  “The federal prosecutor will have to agree that there’s enough evidence here,” George responded.

  “The federal prosecutor might not take the case?” I asked.

  “He might not accept any of this as evidence,” George said.

  “What happens if he doesn’t?” Vivi asked.

  “A judge would still have to look at both wills and decide which one was legal. During that process all of this would come out. Hopefully.”

  “What about Ted Barnett—will he be arrested too?” I asked.

  “It’s rare that a lawyer would be arrested or involved,” George answered.

  I didn’t believe that Ted didn’t know what was going on.

  “But maybe I’ll have a conversation with Ted. Lay out what we know. It might spur things on a little bit.” George almost smiled at his comment.

  “How so?” Vivi asked.

  “I have a feeling Ted’s the kind of man who’ll dive off a sinking ship before the rats do. He’ll point the finger at Steve. I’ll call him on my way to the office,” George said.

  “Do I have to move out of the house like Steve told me?” I asked.

  “No,” George said. “You stay put until all this is resolved. And once it is I don’t think you’ll be moving anywhere.” He stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

  We watched him walk out.

  “So Steve played his hand in hopes that we wouldn’t call his bluff,” Vivi said.

  “But we knew Boone. Knew his heart,” I said. “I think at some point Steve and Boone must have had some contact. Because the emails did sound something like Boone.”

  “Only instead of reconciling, Boone would have told him to take a hike,” Michael said.

  “That’s right,” Vivi said. “That was my boy.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Around one thirty I took an order for two strawberry daiquiris up to Joaquín. He mumbled in Spanish under his breath. He often did when I brought him requests for frozen drinks. Maybe it was because of Vivi’s no-premixed-drinks rules, although these didn’t seem any more difficult than any other drinks he made.

  “What’s with the muttering every time I bring you a request for a frozen daiquiri?”

  Vivi was standing at the end of the bar. “Don’t get him started, Chloe.”

  Joaquín put his left hand on his hip and then waggled his right finger at me. “They are an abomination to the original daiquiri.”

  “I told you not to get him started,” Vivi said.

  “The original daiquiri runs the fine line between sweet and tart. Strawberry daiquiris are just sweet. Too sweet,” Joaquín said.

  “Do you want me to make the strawberry daiquiris so you don’t have to be offended by them?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Joaquín said. “Yes, I do.”

  Vivi’s eyes were twinkling. “And when you’re done and they’ve been served we’ll have a daiquiri making contest. Me against Joaquín. Chloe, you can be the judge of who makes a better daiquiri.”

  “I don’t want to get—”

  “It’s a deal,” Joaquín said to Vivi. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had a drink-off.”

  “I’m not sure—” I started.

  Vivi held out her hand. “Shake on it, Joaquín. I wouldn’t want you to chicken out, or say you’re too busy like last time.” She stuck her hands under her armpits and made flapping motions while she made bwak, bwak, bwak sounds.

  My brown eyes were fairly wide normally, but now they got even bigger. I’d never seen this side of Vivi.

  “I was too busy, and then you ran out of here like a scared little girl.” Joaquín stuck out his hand and they shook.

  “Once Chloe has the drinks made and served,” Vivi said, “it’s on.”

  I took out the Drinks book and found the recipe for strawberry daiquiris. I didn’t want to get in the middle of Joaquín and Vivi. No good could come from picking one of their drinks over the other.

  “Why are frozen daiquiris so different from the original one?” I asked Joaquín as I started adding strawberries, simple syrup, lime juice, and ice to the blender. I was still grumbling in my head about the drink-off.

  “Some man in Texas saw the Slurpee machine at Seven Eleven and thought adding alcohol would be a good idea. A whole new drink industry was born. At least ours aren’t that bad,” Joaquín said. “Now daiquiris are the stuff of spring-break hangovers and brain freezes. Not the elegant, simple drink they actually started out as.”

  “Ah,” I said. I didn’t think I should admit out loud that I’d enjoyed sweet, frozen drinks on a cruise I’d been on in the past. While they weren’t as good as the happy drinks Joaquín made for me, they’d suited the moment. In the same situation I’d do it again. I added the triple sec, orange liqueur, and rum. I glanced over at Vivi, whose grin looked like that of the illustrations of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. No good can come of this, I thought again.

  I hit Puree on the blender as Joaquín yelled, “No.”

  A column of strawberry daiquiri shot up in the air and came back down with most of it landing on my head. I stood stunned for a moment. I’d been so distracted by the upcoming contest I’d forgotten to put the lid on the blender. I glanced over at Vivi. She was laughing. Laughing! Joaquín laughed too, and held out a towel. I snatched it out of his hand.

  “I’ll make another batch while you clean up,” Joaquín said.

  Really, could his grin get any bigger? It wasn’t that funny, or at least I wasn’t ready to laugh about it yet. I was sure at some point I’d find this amusing. “Thank heavens I look good in red.” Humor restored, I grinned back at Joaquín as I went to the bathroom.

  As I looked at the sticky mess dripping down on my shoulders, I thought of Steve and the icy tea I’d poured on him. That was karma for you. I cleaned up my shirt the best I could. As I was about to leave the bathroom, someone knocked on the door.

  “Chloe, I brought you a clean T-shirt.”

  I opened the door to find Michael holding a gray T-shirt.

  He handed it to me. “Joaquín called and said you might need a fresh shirt.”

  “Thank you. I’d give you a hug, but—” I gestured to my sticky shirt.

  “I’m fine,” he said, backing away, hands out. “Happy to help out.”

  I quickly changed into the T-shirt that was just shy of dress length on me. Go Navy blazed across my chest. I stepped back out into the bar.

  Vivi whistled sharply, to my surprise. “Listen up, people. We are having a drink-off.”

  The crowd started to whoop. Even the old curmudgeon banged on his table and yelled. This must be some tradition I’d missed out on.

  “Joaquín and I are both going to make a daiquiri and Chloe, here, will blind tas
te test them and decide who the winner is,” Vivi announced.

  I did a small curtsy. Thank heavens it would be a blind taste test. That way I couldn’t be accused of having a favorite—which I did, but no one needed to know that.

  “In case you don’t know the origins of the classic daiquiri,” Vivi said, “it was created by Jennings Cox at a party when they ran out of gin. It was named for the nearby town of Daiquirí, Cuba.” Vivi turned to Michael. “Please escort Chloe out back. The rest of you will be getting a master class in daiquiri making.”

  * * *

  Michael and I stood by the harbor, looking out over the water.

  “I’ve never seen this side of Vivi before,” I said.

  “Until Boone died, this was the Vivi we usually saw.”

  I pondered that as we waited to be called back in.

  “Are you doing okay, Chloe?” Michael asked.

  “I’d be doing better if they found out what happened to Raquel, Susan, and the others, so Ralph and Delores would be off the hook.”

  “They will,” Michael reassured me.

  “I hope you’re right. A lot of people had reasons for those four to disappear.” But who other than Jed had a reason to kill Blake?

  Joaquín stuck his head out the door. “We’re ready.”

  “I feel like I can’t make a right decision here,” I said to Michael.

  Michael patted my shoulder. “They’ve been doing this for years. They don’t hold a grudge. At least not for long.”

  So comforting.

  Two beautiful daiquiris sat on the bar in coupe glasses—the flat, wide glasses often used for champagne. Each had a lime twist in the drink. Joaquín and Vivi stood at the far end of the room with their backs to the Gulf. Michael went and stood between them. They all stared intently at me, along with the rest of the people in the bar. No pressure.

  I picked up the first glass and sipped. The balance of sweet and tart was almost perfect. It didn’t scream that sugar or lime was the main ingredient. I always felt elegant drinking out of a coupe glass, even in an oversize T-shirt with sticky hair. I set down the first glass, took a drink of water, and picked up the second. It too had a delicate balance of flavors, although this one was slightly sweeter. However, I enjoyed the sweetness.