Anchors Away and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Sounded like the perfect ending to this particular brush with disaster.

  ***

  Chapter Nine

  So my guestimate as to the attractiveness of the offered attire was about as accurate as I could have imagined. Feeling out of sorts and rather uncomfortable despite the dry clothes thanks to the massive t-shirt hanging almost to my knees and the awkward way I had to bundle up the waistband of the men’s basketball shorts that could have passed for old-fashioned culottes, I did my best not to let my fashion fiasco get me down. Hadn’t I rescued my pug from certain death and garnered enough sympathy for her as well as animosity toward Robert—who didn’t love a sweet-faced animal over that mug of a worthless human being?—that I should have felt far better about the whole thing than I actually did.

  I returned to Mom who handed off Petunia’s leash with a sad smile and concern on her face. The pug, on the other hand, seemed totally fine, cinnamon bun tail twitching spasmodically from side to side under the wrinkle of the skin over her butt, her big eyes staring at me with the same adoration she always showed, long, pink tongue hanging sideways out of her wide, smiling mouth like she thought this whole thing was actually fun or something. Or maybe she was laughing at my outfit. Either way, I was ready to take her home, give her a good looking over and change into my own clothes. Anything to forget this regrettable event ever happened

  And make no mistake, if she even coughed I’d be going to the vet lickety split with the bill landing on the sheriff’s desk about half a second later.

  The pug perched on the passenger’s seat, her harness buckled securely into the seatbelt, airbag safely turned off. She preferred to perch in my lap, but I wasn’t taking any chances with her today, not after such a near miss. I had myself so worked up with what ifs and could have beens, tears threatening all over again, that by the time I got back to the B&B I had to take a moment to hug her tight, something she didn’t exactly protest but wasn’t on her menu of expected responses to riding in the car. She finally whined softly, wriggling enough I let her go and wiped at the wetness on my cheeks.

  “Sorry, Madame Petunia,” I forced a smile, stroking her soft face, the wrinkles moving comically under my fingers, taking her from perplexed joy to scrunchy good humor and back again with that simple manipulation. “I’ll stop being a weirdo.”

  She huffed at me, grinning before snorting so forcefully I had to wipe droplets from my cheeks. Awesome.

  I should have realized the cat—or pug, as it were—wouldn’t stay in the bag for long. Especially with someone like Daisy ferreting out news like a natural-born journalist. Speaking of which, maybe she should have been writing the column for Pamela and not me. Whatever the case (or excuse not to follow through, see it for what it is, Fee), I was instantly engulfed in a massive hug the second I walked through the front door of Petunia’s. Off balance from the force of Daisy’s embrace, I teetered as she released me in a rush to bend and give yet another big squeeze to Petunia, my best friend’s face twisted in fear and concern.

  “Oh, Fee,” she said, heaving the dog into her arms and standing up to snuggle Petunia against her cheek, her gray eyes next to the pug’s brown ones, the two of them staring at me though with disparate expressions about as far off each other as possible. “I heard what happened. Is Petunia okay?”

  Um, she was holding her, right? Kind of a silly question. I felt myself sag in response to the query, though, while my best friend cooed and rocked the happy pug. “She’s fine,” I said. “Dr. Miller was there.” I felt panic wake in my chest yet again and shoved it firmly down. Later, I’d curl up on the couch with Petunia and smother that terror in chocolate and cheese puffs. For now, I was done crying over what could have been. “He said she should be fine but I’ll take her for a checkup Monday anyway.” Yup, the Reading Sheriff’s Department was going to foot that bill, hopefully Robert personally, but I’d take the revenge I could get.

  Huh. Wasn’t expecting to feel so pissed at Crew for not being here. I shoved that down, too, and watched Daisy set Petunia on her four little feet, the pug seemingly disappointed at her loss of height and status.

  “I can’t believe Robert would do such a horrible thing.” I knew she meant the opposite. Neither of us were fans, after all. “He’s such an ass. Poor baby.” Daisy made a sad face at the pug who panted happily back.

  “He is,” I said. “He tried to say it was an accident.” I considered mentioning I now knew Rose was dating said ass, but waited to see what Daisy would say. And wondered again why she hadn’t brought it up before.

  She snorted, though with far more delicacy and attractiveness than the pug ever managed. “I bet. I hear your mother gave him what for.” Sparkle returned to her eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Might have gone better if your step-sister hadn’t stood up for him.” Okay, I didn’t mean to come across so bitter in my reveal of the truth, but seriously. I wanted Rose out of my place. But she was Daisy’s family and my bestie had a say, right?

  Daisy flinched, looked down, face settling into a kind of tight mask that told me she wasn’t going to back me on this one. “I’m sure she was just trying to diffuse the situation.”

  Grunt. Not. And proof my best friend had known about Rose and Robert. But before I could call her on her attitude, Daisy took the leash from my hands and led Petunia toward the kitchen, her heels tapping on the wood floors, the pug happily trotting along beside her. Because, didn’t the swinging door at the end of the foyer always mean food?

  I followed them, determined to mind my own business and keep my mouth shut. That lasted about a minute while Daisy fetched a bag of frozen strawberries from the freezer and proceeded to cut them up. I’d taken to freezing the treats in an effort to slow Petunia down, to make her chew, at least, before swallowing. Daisy handed the drooling dog bits of red with an indulgence that made my jaw clench. Not because I minded how much Daisy loved Petunia, but because I loved Daisy and it was clear she wasn’t willing to face the monstrosity who was her (former, come on, Day, snap out of it) step-sister.

  Thus the utter lack of staying quiet that meant my lips parted and words came out before I could stop myself.

  “How long is Rose staying?” Yes, I was grumpy. I sat my butt on a stool at the island, glaring when Daisy refused to meet my eyes.

  “I don’t know,” she said, fingers and knife dark crimson with strawberry juice. Made me think of murdering someone. Well, two someones. Robert and Rose. Right? Or was Crew on my death wish list too? Why did I feel like he’d abandoned me all of a sudden? Silly, and shook me out of the deep resentment funk that plunked me down to face off with Daisy in the first place.

  But I’d already pitched the question, and it was out there, waiting to be answered. Funny thing, I almost spoke up, the silence between us making me feel bad. This wasn’t Daisy’s fault and family was family, whether still in that category officially or not. Apparently, though, I’d been silent long enough it pushed her own discomfort into the realm of guilty answering.

  “I’m sorry if she’s not fitting in,” Daisy blurted, finally looking up, huge eyes so innocent and full of hurt I sighed, leaning my elbows on the counter. “She just doesn’t have much of a life right now and she really needed someone.”

  I didn’t know Rose played the victim card to get Daisy to agree to let her come to Petunia’s. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, grudgingly, yes. But it seemed to placate Daisy who beamed a smile at me.

  “Dad’s being a jerk to her mother,” she said. “They got back together after all these years, did you know that?” I hadn’t. Why did Daisy seem hurt by that? Well, her father wasn’t a saint, or much of a parent, for all that. “You know what he’s like.” Daisy’s father had been pretty absent her whole life, my dad more of a role model to her than hers ever was. So honestly I had very little idea what her male parent’s skills looked like. But I nodded anyway, let her ramble. “Rose just wanted out of the whole mess. They’ve been dragging her into the middle of their fig
hting and she’s tired of it.” More like the sniping little whiner was either a) the cause of the fighting or b) feeding off their angst. Still, she was here, wasn’t she? So maybe I had to give her the benefit of the doubt after all.

  Sure I did. Right after I got over the fact she was hanging off Robert. Shudder.

  “You’re very patient,” I said, implying, of course, I wasn’t. “You do know she’s dating Robert of all people?” Yup, tossing chum in the water.

  Daisy’s wince told me what I already knew, that she’d known and had kept that juicy bit of gag worthy gossip to herself. Not like her at all. “She’ll come to her senses.”

  Grunt. We’d see about that.

  Daisy shrugged, smile fading, sorrow returning as she scooped the last of the berries into one palm and deposited them into Petunia’s bowl, going to the sink to rinse her hands and the blade of the knife. Light from the sun caught the edge, flashing into my eyes while she spoke.

  “She’s my little sister,” she said, soft and gentle. “I wasn’t there for her, Fee, all those years. If I can be now, I want to be.”

  Huh. Okay then. If she said so. Despite the technicality of their lack of blood ties, it was Daisy’s way. Still, this morning’s subtle jibes at my bestie sat about as well as this stupid t-shirt across my shoulders, and it certainly wasn’t the first time since Rose arrived that I’d witnessed the younger handing passive aggressive crap to the gorgeous woman in front of me. But, she wasn’t my problem, was she? Unless she interfered with our business, or how Daisy handled her end of things.

  Then? Yeah, then Rose and I would have words. But did I dare to let this relationship go that far? I had a bed and breakfast and annex and restaurant and event center to run…

  Daisy’s gray eyes flickered to mine. “I’m sorry she defended Robert.”

  Not for her to apologize for. “And I’m sorry she makes you feel like you’re not good enough.” Yikes, I had to say that out loud, didn’t I? Honestly, I had no proof it was Rose who’d been undermining Daisy’s confidence all these years, but from what I’d witnessed since she’d arrived? I had a great circumstantial case. Maybe it wasn’t just Rose. Maybe Daisy’s former—wait, was she current again?—step-mom and her own father were part of the problem. Likely. But Rose certainly wasn’t innocent.

  I knew I’d gone too far, though. Daisy’s usually open expression shut down in a flash, a mask of hurt falling, smothered in brusque tightness that wasn’t like her at all. “I’m going to run to the annex and check on messages,” she said, hurrying off before I could apologize. I heaved a sigh into the quiet kitchen, the pug now at my feet, licking her chops like the strawberries Daisy gave her only whetted her appetite.

  I stared down at the happy creature and found myself grinding my teeth. You know what? Daisy might not like it, but she was my best friend and more family to me than Rose would ever be to her. I loved her and honored her for who she was. And I refused to stand by and allow anyone to treat her like she wasn’t good enough. No one hurt my Daisy, especially when she’d done so much to increase her confidence and joy in her work. Maybe Rose was just jealous. Didn’t matter her motives. Next time I heard her say anything to my bestie that didn’t fit the woman she was becoming I’d be shutting that down.

  Knowing I’d likely just decided to put a massive strain on my relationship with Daisy but the redhead in me not caring very much, I headed downstairs to my apartment to change, sizzling with determination, frustration and the uncomfortable need to call Crew and blame him for everything despite the fact he had nothing to do with it.

  Yikes.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  It wasn’t until I went looking for my phone and wallet a few hours later I realized I’d done the unthinkable. My money and credit cards were safe, thankfully, still in the dash of my car. But my phone? My most precious of lifelines to the outside world? Missing.

  For a moment I felt a flash of panic not unlike that I’d experienced when I’d seen Petunia go over the edge of the dock. Please, please let me have left the phone somewhere and not at the bottom of the harbor where it must have died a tragic early death. I’d just upgraded, too, damn it.

  I checked my clothes again, damp in the hamper, coming up empty, mind turning over and over as I tried to remember where I’d left it. After a long, desperate think through, I exhaled in relief. Hadn’t I set it in the box of food on my way from the car? Yes, yes I had. Right, so that meant Mom probably still had it. Awesome. My day was looking up again.

  But when I called my mother, she was already home, naturally. It was near dark, the party at the dock long over, dinner served and cleaned up, her part done for the day. “Sorry, sweetie,” she said when I asked after my phone. “I left the boxes and the leftover food at the yacht club. Doreen was going to put everything in the fridge.”

  I was already searching the internet to find out if refrigerating a cell phone would damage it (short term was probably okay but I had condensation to worry about, apparently) while thanking Mom and hanging up. A quick call to the yacht club ended in a message and I was forced to leave one of my own, annoyed with myself for the slip of memory. I quickly called Mom back.

  “I’ll call Doreen myself,” Mom said, queen of efficiency that she was. “I’ll have her meet you there. Okay?”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Phew, saved by the mother. I turned as I hung up, finding Daisy exiting the kitchen. “I need to run out for ten minutes,” I said. “Are you good?”

  She hesitated before shrugging, still a bit stiff with me. She had been for hours, so not like her at all but I guess to be expected when family was involved. Even my amazing Daisy wasn’t immune to hurt and she was emotional enough and honest enough she struggled to hide it when she was upset. I’d have to deal with the mess I made of our friendship after I got my phone back.

  I nodded thanks, ignoring the plaintive look on Petunia’s face as I headed for the door. She’d had enough excitement for one day and taking her with me would add another ten minutes to my trip, including putting on her harness while she danced around like she didn’t want it on, hustling her into the car, settling her long enough to put on her seatbelt and the reverse since she’d insist on getting out of the car with me once we arrived. Instead, I chose expediency, grabbing my keys and wallet and heading for the driveway, wincing at the sight of a car with New Hampshire license plates parked in front of Petunia’s.

  Just what I needed. But instead of turning back to ask Daisy to deal with it, I felt my chest tighten in rebellion and annoyance. You know what? Let Robert try to ticket my guests. I’d be in Olivia’s office so fast he’d get seasick from the motion.

  The yacht club building was dark when I arrived, though a few of the boats were out on the water rather than moored at the long, narrow pier. The majority of them sat quiet and I wondered about the appeal of owning what amounted to a floating cottage. Who needed two homes, anyway? Yeah, okay, so I had Petunia’s and the annex, but that was my business. Thinking about the waste of owning something that cost more than my renos on the new place just sitting there and doing nothing gave me hives.

  I peeked in the windows of the club, but except for some emergency lighting the place was dark and locked up tight. I paced in front of my car, wondering at the wisdom of coming down here without a phone and no confirmation from Mom she’d even reached Doreen in the first place. I needed my cell to check, so that Catch-22 wasn’t lost on me or anything.

  I finally dug a quarter out of the folds of carpet in the driver’s side of my car and headed for the payphone at the end of the dock. The thing had seen better days, handle faded from deep black to near gray, the silver buttons worn so the numbers barely showed. But, it worked, the blank dial tone answering me as I lifted the handle and slipped the quarter into the slot.

  Now, what was Mom’s number again? Ack. I had it on my cell. And I knew her old one, of course I did, the one from when I was a kid. But with the rezoning and changes Olivia had made, the phone compa
ny updated certain streets with new numbers about two years ago. I hadn’t taken the time to learn Mom’s new one. Or the number for Petunia’s, either.

  Well, wasn’t that a heaping pile of steaming frustration.

  I didn’t slam the receiver down. Didn’t swear that the stupid antiquated thing didn’t give me my money back, either. Didn’t kick the post the box sat on or throw a hissy fit as I spun back toward my car. Nope. Didn’t. Proud of me? I know I was. Though, to be fair, the reason I didn’t? Wasn’t my firm and complete hold over my temper. Surprised? Instead, it was the sound of water splashing behind me.

  Now, I was standing on a dock, so splashing wasn’t exactly a foreign sound or anything. But this wasn’t the gentle lapping of waves. This sounded like floundering, like someone struggled in the water and not swimming, either. I frowned into the darkness, aware at that moment the big light over the dock was out, the boats at the far end smothered in night. Any normal person would have retreated, right? Gone back to her car and drove home, worried about her phone tomorrow and kept her nose out of something that was likely nothing.

  Me? I did the horror movie heroine thing, like always, and followed the sounds of splashing. They died out pretty quickly, mind you, so by the time I reached the end of the dock and the last boat moored there I wasn’t following anything but my nosiness. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark, the stillness of the water black and unfathomably deep, though I had just been in it so I knew it wasn’t as bottomless as all that. I was about to turn and go back to my car after all when I spotted something pale floating in the water and paused.

  It looked like a sail or a bag of some kind and bobbed peacefully, the soft waves carrying it closer. A tall, wicked looking boat hook hung from a spike driven into the last light post, offering my curiosity a chance at answers and I took it. Just some flotsam from today’s festivities, likely. I was doing my part to keep the harbor clean, right?