Anchors Away and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Sure I was. I poked at the rolling debris, the end of the hook’s barb nabbing the fabric. It floated easily toward me, though as I tugged the weight behind it became apparent, even more so as it rolled over, bumping the dock and dislodging the hook, flipping upright in the dim light of the stars.

  Lester Patterson looked more peaceful than I’d ever seen him, at least, though that was a small consolation considering he was dead.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  While I was used to filling in town sheriffs on the details of discovering dead bodies, this particular stand-in wasn’t my first choice, not by a long shot. But the fact that Robert was all I had to talk to, with Crew and Jill both out of town, left me with no choices and little hope anything I said was going to be taken seriously outside of the actual discovery.

  The way his beady eyes narrowed while I walked him through why I was at the yacht club in the first place and the jumpy twitching of his mustache told me I was far more likely to get invited to the Oscars by some handsome A list star than to be asked for help in this particular investigation. Which meant, knowing Robert’s terrible track record when it came to police work, there was an excellent chance this murder—okay, I was guessing, jumping ahead to foul play, but my previous encounters with death all led to horrible people dying at the hands of those who thought they deserved it—would go unsolved without Crew here to handle things.

  I blinked into the glaring lights Robert ordered set up around the dock, Dr. Aberstock already arrived, two paramedics pulling the body from the water so he could have a closer look. Never mind my cousin’s inflated ego and the way he glared at the local medical examiner, muttering about disturbing his crime scene or the fact Dr. Aberstock had seen more death than Robert ever had. I guess procedure was procedure, but still, Crew never said boo when the doc arrived first or questioned the fact the older man knew what he was doing.

  Doreen hovered nearby, hugging herself, her pale yellow sweater tight around her round torso, shivering though the evening was warm. She’d arrived about a minute after I’d found Lester, huffing her way toward me and the sound of my quick scream. Okay, yes, I screamed. Despite seeing multiple dead bodies in the last few years, I still had that crawling sensation up the back of my spine when I came face-to-face with unexpected death. At least I wasn’t hanging next to him or pinned under him like had been previous experiences that marred my psyche for life. Still, turning over what I thought was an innocent bit of litter only to have his bulging eyes stare up at me from the cold, black water? Yeah, scream worthy, if I do say so myself.

  At least I hadn’t been alone when Robert showed up. Doreen handed me my phone—she’d found it in the box before putting the food away, thank goodness—leaving me to call the sheriff’s department. While I was grateful for the presence of another person when Robert pulled up, scowling at me like I’d interrupted something important (please, no visuals of him and Rose in a compromising position, I’d throw up) with his uniform shirt rumpled and his expression decidedly grumpy.

  “So you’re telling me this is all a coincidence,” he said as I rambled to a halt. “That you just happened to be at the yacht club and you just happened to hear splashing and you just happened to find the body. Is that it?”

  Holy guacamole, did he hear a word I just said? “Um, yes.” Sigh.

  “Right.” He wasn’t even taking notes, hands on his hips, glaring like I was the one who kicked his dog into the water to drown. “Just like always, Fanny. In the middle of a murder you claim you stumbled on.” Oh, he was not going there. Was he, really? “See, I’m not Crew Turner. I don’t assume you’re not guilty.” Considering Crew had me as his prime suspect in the death of Pete Wilkins when that real estate swindler did his best to steal Petunia’s from me? Yeah, Robert could choke on his attitude. “In fact, I’m starting to wonder about you, Fanny.” Argh. Could I please just smack him and get it over with? “Everyone around town thinks you’re so smart and so clever, that you’re some kind of super sleuth detective or something.” Huh, I didn’t know that. “But there comes a time when the girl who cries wolf is in the wrong place at the right time one time too often.”

  I spluttered a second before eye rolling. “You can’t be serious.” And besides, his little metaphor attempt made zero sense. “I’m not crying wolf, you idiot. The guy is dead. The fact I’m here is a fluke. As for the death toll in our town, maybe you should worry more about finding out what happened to this guy instead of giving the person who found him a hard time.”

  I was so tired of going down this road. I barely tolerated it with Crew, let alone my jerk cousin Robert. While the handsome sheriff might have gotten away with his veiled accusations (and sometimes not so veiled), I’d known and despised Robert since I was a child. So he could piss off.

  “You really need to respect the sheriff.” Oh my god. If Rose opened her mouth and spoke one more time I was absolutely going to go to prison for murder, but it wasn’t going to be over Lester. I ignored her, just like I’d been ignoring her since she climbed out of the passenger’s seat of Robert’s cruiser—at least he didn’t have the guts to claim Crew’s truck for the duration of his temporary position—and high nosed her way around the crime scene, acting like she was some kind of police presence herself.

  Thankfully, I was saved by the huffing, frustrated form of the primly suited and shining bobbed Olivia who appeared shorty after Robert had, whispering into her cell phone and acting about as agitated as I’d ever seen her. As I inhaled to tell Robert where he could shove his little girlfriend’s attitude the mayor stepped between me and the acting sheriff, her back to me as she confronted him.

  “Stop being a moron,” she snapped, voice low and harsh, “and go look for clues or something. I need to talk to Fiona.”

  Robert’s initial startled reaction flickered into the kind of dark and dangerous rage I’d only read about in books that dealt with over-the-top villains. He smothered it quickly, jerking himself around without protest, but by the stiffness of his shoulders and the way he walked off, like a rod of iron had been shoved down the back of his shirt to the soles of his feet, I actually felt a surge of fear of him. Not that I really believed he’d ever hurt me. But this was the first time I realized real hate lived in my cousin, the kind that could set fire to a man who I’d always discounted as a pain in the butt nobody.

  Before I could think on it further, Olivia grasped my arm and pulled me aside, the bright light of the spots making the fine hairs on her cheeks stand out, the pale powder she wore obvious in the glaring illumination. “I’ve called Crew and Jill back,” she hissed at me. “They should be here in the morning.” Thank goodness for that. No way could Robert handle this without bungling.

  I hadn’t noticed Geoffrey’s arrival, probably thanks to the fact I’d spent the last ten frustrating minutes answering ridiculous questions my cousin really didn’t have to ask. But, when the councilman sidled into our conversation I was acutely aware of his presence, thanks to his proximity—ew—and the scent of his cologne—yuck.

  “That’s a mistake, Olivia,” he said, voice as low as hers. Eavesdropping was a horrible pastime. Yeah, like I didn’t have a history of it myself…? “Robert can handle things.”

  “I have no idea what actual planet you come from,” I snapped at him, though I kept my tone as low as theirs, “but the incompetent excuse for an acting sheriff couldn’t find a clue if it goosed him in the rear end.” I hadn’t meant to be so harsh, and I certainly hadn’t had the opportunity to snark back at Geoffrey in the past. He didn’t seem surprised by my words, though, and instead of looking angry he just seemed amused. Whatever. I turned back to Olivia. “Don’t let Robert screw this up in the meantime,” I said. Realizing even as I did I really didn’t get a say in the matter. Sure, my father was the former sheriff before Crew, and I might have played a pivotal role in uncovering the perpetrators of past murders, but honestly, I was just a local business owner.

  Didn’t phase Olivia
one bit. If anything, my confidence seemed to boost hers. “I’ll make sure Dr. Aberstock doesn’t release anything until Crew gets back.” She seemed a bit relieved. “Is your dad in town?”

  I shook my head. “Still gone on a case, but I know he’ll come back if you need him.” Shouldn’t, though, not if Crew was on his way.

  Olivia chewed her bottom lip a moment. “Any ideas what happened?” She hesitated before rushing on. “Is it murder, Fee?”

  Right, because I could pull clues and answers out of thin air. “Sorry,” I said. “Not my department.” I groaned at the sight of Robert arguing with Dr. Aberstock, the volume rising as the two faced off. “You might want to go handle that?”

  Olivia huffed off, a woman on a mission, Geoffrey lingering a moment like he wanted to talk to me. But I was already turning my back, scanning my phone. Noted a missed message from earlier, Crew’s number. Well, I’d get it later or he could tell me in person. Likely just a good night since I hadn’t been home to take our usual evening call. I pulled up Crew’s number and dialed.

  After three rings, his voice answered, but not the fresh, friendly and present one I was hoping for. “You’ve reached Sheriff Crew Turner. Leave a message.”

  The long beep made my stomach ache. “Hey,” I said. “Olivia said she called. Yeah, I found the body.” Wince. “No surprise there, right?” Nice attempt at a joke, Fee. “Anyway, could use you back here ASAP. Robert’s being a total dick.” I watched him fight with both Olivia and Dr. Aberstock, their voices loud enough I caught the gist but not the details. “Call me and I’ll fill you in, okay?” I hesitated before hanging up, wanting to add more, to tell him I missed him, that I wished we had more time together lately, that I’d done more to advance our relationship past the few dates and private moments we’d managed to wrangle. Instead, I chose to go for professional, because maybe murder, right?

  Coward. I hated feeling like I’d chickened out. I took a moment to check his message, hoping to savor the sound of his voice saying a sultry good night. Instead, goosebumps rose on my arms when I took in the tense, quiet tone he used.

  “Something came up. I have to take care of it. I’ll be in touch.” A woman’s voice said his name from somewhere behind him just as he hung up.

  And that was it. I checked the time of the message, found it was from this afternoon, shortly after Petunia went into the water. Who was the woman? It didn’t sound like Jill. Had Olivia spoken to him directly? I almost turned to ask her, but her argument wasn’t over and I needed to hear things from the man himself. I dialed him again. This time, though, while I held my breath and hoped he’d answer, the other end clicked and a voice said, “Hello?”

  Thing was? That voice wasn’t the deep, graveled tone I was expecting. Nor was it male at all. Instead, some strange woman was answering Crew’s phone and the instant I heard her voice my chest knotted, stomach fluttering while I clutched the cell to my ear and tried to catch my breath.

  “I need to speak to Crew Turner.” Wow. I sounded rational and put together, not at all like I’d just heard a strange woman answer his phone. Wait, had I dialed the wrong number? Nope, speed dial told me otherwise.

  “He’s unavailable.” She sounded brusque, annoyed. “Please stop calling. He’ll be in touch when he’s free.” And then, just like that, she hung up.

  I gaped at my phone for a long moment, heart pounding suddenly, though I instantly shut down any jealousy that surged into place of shock. Crew and I had a thing, didn’t we? He told me so. Told me I was the woman he wanted to be with. So why then was some other female presence answering his phone when he was supposed to be at a conference?

  I didn’t even know I was scrolling my numbers until my thumb chose Jill and I dialed. She answered almost immediately, second ring echoing in my ears, the huffing sound of her voice telling me she was on the move.

  “Fee.” A car door slammed and an engine turned over. “I’m on my way.”

  “Jill.” I almost choked on her name. “Where’s Crew?” I’d just spoken to him this morning. He hadn’t said anything about any trouble or another woman. Choke.

  Her hesitation told me a lot. Like I needed to be worried. “I should be back tonight, late. You found the body?” She didn’t sound surprised, but it was pretty obvious to me she was deflecting.

  Fine, whatever. I told her what I knew, oddly comforted by the cool and professional way she talked me down from my hysteria just by being Jill. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.” When she hung up without telling me anything about Crew, I let it go, though her calming influence wasn’t lasting now that she no longer talked to me from the other end of the line.

  That’s how I found myself dialing one more time, this person, I realized without surprise, my go-to when the chips were down and I needed someone to talk to. Dad answered like he already knew why I was calling.

  “Fee,” he said in his rumbling Dad voice. “Tell me what happened.”

  That was all I needed to launch into a breathless, rambling blurty rant about everything. Dad listened with his usual patience, only occasionally grunting or muttering some supportive sound that kept me going. When I stumbled to a halt, he sighed into the phone, but as he spoke I felt his strength behind his words like I always did. Jill might have brought me comfort, but Dad took my fears away.

  “I’m already home, honey,” he said. “I’ll meet Dr. Aberstock at the hospital and Robert be damned. As for Crew, I have no idea what he’s up to, but I’ll help you find out, okay? I’m sure it’s nothing.” Right, he was right. Nothing. Crew would call and clear things up and it would be fine. He’d be back, he’d solve this case, murder or not, and life would go back to normal. I’d make a huge effort to forward our relationship and I’d have my happily ever after. Thanks, Dad. “Tell Olivia I’ll be in her office in the morning. She has to make it official, but I can flub the paperwork if she wants to hire me in the interim.”

  “Done.” I turned to find Geoffrey standing far too close to me, watching me with his careful eyes. I stiffened and when I spoke again it was as much to my father as to the Patterson council member. “I’ll see you in the morning, Dad.”

  I hung up, tucking my phone into my pocket, while Geoffrey closed the last of the distance between us and spoke quietly, his words making it through the distant shouting that still went on over the body of Lester Patterson. “I’m sorry you had to yet again be the bearer of deadly news, Fiona,” he said, in a tone that told me he was trying to be sympathetic but just gave me the willies. “And that you had to tolerate Robert’s accusations. Of course no one believes you’re a murderer. In fact, you’ve proven an invaluable resource in multiple crimes over the years. He needs to learn to be grateful and accept help when it’s offered.”

  Playing both sides, Geoffrey? Why? I didn’t get a chance to find out. Doreen suddenly burst into tears not too far from me and I found myself hurrying to her side to hug her while she cried, watching Geoffrey exit to his car and drive away even as I made a mental note to call Mom and have her check in on Doreen. The poor thing was a wreck.

  I knew how she felt.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  Tired and completely over today, I skirted the side of Petunia’s after I parked in the driveway—noting the car that had been outside was long gone, thankfully, though that didn’t mean I’d miss out on a ticket—and headed up the sidewalk. We’d converted the lawn between the two houses into a parking lot to circumvent the increasingly irritating town rules about cars on the street, making for a bit of an unsightly curb appeal but keeping me from being cited regularly for illegal use of curbside space.

  I bypassed the front entry all together, just wanting to sneak inside, check on things and slip downstairs to a hot shower and bed. And maybe a snack of some kind involving too much sugar and salty goodness. Yeah, it had been that kind of miserable day, the kind that either needed strong arms as support or a bowl of heavily processed snack foods. Since the arms I lon
ged for weren’t here (wasn’t thinking where those arms might be or what they might be doing or who they might be holding right now), I’d have to make do with chocolate and chips.

  Naturally, instead of my plans for peace, quiet and a bit of feeling sorry for myself, I stumbled into the kitchen to find Daisy and Rose deep in conversation. I guess I was quiet enough on my entry and their focus so tight they didn’t hear me enter, because neither looked up when I stepped inside and softly closed the door behind me.

  Just in time to hear Rose, who had beaten me home thanks to my lingering to support Doreen while Daisy’s step-sister and my cousin drove off in his cruiser, delivering one of her passive aggressive, lip curling and vastly irritating suggestions.

  “Oh, Daisy,” she was saying, one hand on my bestie’s arm and the other pressed to her chest with that fake care etched into her plain face, bulging brown eyes locked on and not letting go, “are you sure you can handle everything yourself like this?” Everything like what? I held still and listened instead of speaking up like I wanted to. Just to hear what the nasty piece of work had to say this time, without my interference. It was, after all, the first time I got to hear how Rose talked to Daisy without anyone else around. “You take on so much and you know you’re just not great at juggling too many things. You’re so forgetful.” I felt my stomach clench as Daisy sagged and Rose went on. Was that a faint smirk on her face? I’d smack it out of her right before I kicked her butt to the street and let Robert write me a ticket for his smarmy little girlfriend parked on the side of the road where she belonged. “You know you always mess things up if you have too much to do. It’s not your fault.” Daisy didn’t even try to protest, rubbing at her arm with one hand, head drooping. “You’re just so much like your mother, you know. Your father says so all the time.”