by Jack Gibby
“Hello?”
“Dunn?” said the voice on the other end. It was Missy. Dunn recognized her voice right away.
“Yeah, this is Dunn,” he said. “Missy?”
“Yes, it’s me,” she said. Her tone was quiet, almost conspiratorial.
“Is everything okay?” Dunn asked.
“I don’t know,” said Missy. “Has anything strange happened to you since the other day?” she asked. “Any weirdness?”
“I’m not sure,” said Dunn, suddenly becoming concerned. “What kind of weirdness?”
“You haven’t noticed anybody following you, have you?” said Missy. “Anybody lurking around?”
“I don’t think so,” said Dunn. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“Well, I’ve caught this guy lurking around the marina a few times,” she said. “As soon as I spot him, he scurries off. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but it’s been really odd. It’s almost as though he’s following me.”
“Is he following you home?” asked Dunn. “Or is this just around the marina?”
“It’s just at work,” said Missy. “As far as I know. But then again, I really don’t know.”
Dunn got up from his desk and walked downstairs as they talked, and approached the front window in his living room. He looked out of it as their conversation continued.
“I don’t know if anybody’s been hanging around me,” said Dunn. “If they have, I must be oblivious to it.”
“I’m thinking about taking some time off from this job,” said Missy. “I’m getting creeped out being here. I just wanted to call and warn you to be on the lookout. Something’s not right.”
“Thanks,” said Dunn. “I appreciate that.”
“And you might want to cancel your next lesson down here,” Missy went on. “I think both of us should stay far away from this place for the time being.”
“That’s probably smart thinking,” Dunn agreed. Now he was beginning to get paranoid. “You might want to get in touch with the police and let them know you think something strange is going on, that maybe you’re being followed.”
“I think I will,” said Missy. “Stay safe, Dunn.”
“You too,” he said. “Take it easy, Missy.”
“Talk to you soon.”
Dunn hung up. He continued staring out his window, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. But it was a beautiful, sunny day outside. Everything looked perfect. Dunn, however, felt uneasy.
Later on at night, Dunn sat on his back patio, a concrete slab with a wood pergola above it. The small yard had been professionally landscaped by the company who had rehabbed the house, but Dunn didn’t really have a green thumb and it was beginning to get a bit unkempt. At the back edge of the yard was a two story garage, sided and shingled to look just like the main house, that lead out to alley behind the street.
On the glass-top table in front of him was a glass of wine and the bottle it came from. It was a local wine, just one of many. Wineries dotted the landscape all up and down the two peninsulas north of Traverse City, and Dunn was taking advantage of what his new home had to offer. It had plenty of wine.
The wine helped the paranoia he had felt earlier on in the day dissipate. And it also inspired in him the nerve to make the call he knew he had to make. It wasn’t like he was frightened of an unknown woman. It was just that he was a little out of practice.
After a big gulp from his glass, Dunn picked up his phone, he scrolled through his contacts, and he tapped the screen. He took a deep breath and he brought it to his ear.
The phone rang three or four times before it was answered.
“Hello?” said the sultry, almost raspy, voice on the other end.
“Good evening,” said Dunn. “This is Gannon Dunn. I’m calling for Brooke Green.”
“This is Brooke,” she said. Dunn could hear her smile. “You’re Liddy Polk’s friend.”
“Well, neighbor,” Dunn corrected. “I’m sure we’ll be friends eventually, but I just moved in next door to Liddy and her husband.”
“Liddy is a good woman to be friends with,” said Brooke. “Gannon?” she asked, switching gears.
“Yes, Gannon.”
“Like Shannon?”
“Yes,” Dunn said.
“Give me just a moment, Gannon,” said Brooke.
Brooke put her hand over the microphone and walked toward where a boy was sitting on the couch. He was eating food off of a tray, his eyes focused on the television. Brooke was still dressed in her scrubs from work, her thick blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked tired, but even in her exhaustion she was definitely a pretty lady.
“Baby,” Brooke said to her son. “Mommy’s going to step outside for a few minutes to take this call. Everything good?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” said her son, looking up to her for just a moment before reverting his gaze to the flickering screen.
“Good boy, Logan,” she said and smiled.
On the other end of the line, Dunn took another drink from his wine glass, listening into the speaker but not able to hear anything. It felt a little awkward, but the wine helped him relax.
“Gannon?” said that voice once more. “I’m sorry. I stepped out onto my porch. It’s a lovely night.”
“It really is,” said Dunn. “I’m starting to think that’s a trend up here.” Brooke laughed softly.
“Yeah, until the winter,” she replied. “You ever spent a winter up here?”
“No,” said Dunn. “I considered it before I moved, but it never happened. I guess I’ll see this year.”
“You’ve got to embrace it,” said Brooke. “Otherwise, it’ll make you go crazy. Do you like any winter sports?”
“I ski,” said Dunn. “I’m hoping that will be enough.”
“I ski as well,” said Brooke happily. “Maybe we’ll make it out to Boyne this winter.”
“Maybe,” said Dunn. He smiled, and he took another drink.
“Gannon,” Brooke mused. “That’s a pretty interesting name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”
“It’s a family name,” Dunn said. “A lot of people just call me Dunn.”
“I like it,” said Brooke. “It’s unique. I think I’ll call you Gannon.”
“And I’ll call you Brooke,” Dunn said. Brooke laughed.
“Now, Liddy told me a few things about you,” Brooke continued on. “But there were some holes in her story.”
“What kind of holes?” Dunn asked.
“She said you were retired,” Brooke said. “Is that true?”
“Yeah, I am,” said Dunn.
“But you’re not older, right?” posited Brooke. “You’re in your early forties?”
“That’s right,” said Dunn. “I did okay for myself in my previous career. But I left it to move up here and start fresh. I’m still trying to figure out what’s next for me.”
“Huh,” said Brooke. “That’s interesting. She told you I’m most certainly not retired, right?”
“She told me you were a nurse,” said Dunn. “At the hospital downtown.”
“I am,” Brooke replied. “It can be a stressful job, but I do love it.”
“I live not far off from the hospital,” Dunn said. “I’m in the Boardman neighborhood, on State.”
“That is a very nice neighborhood,” Brooke said. “How are you liking it so far?”
“It’s been good to me,” said Dunn. “It’s a pretty big change from my old life in Chicago.”
“Listen,” said Brooke. “I can’t talk for much longer. I should really get back to my son—Liddy told you I had a son, right?”
“She did.”
“And that’s okay with you?”
“It is.”
“Great,” Brooke said with relief. “We should get together soon. Meet in person.”
“I’d like that,” said Dunn. “I’m not too familiar with the restaurants downtown. I know there are a fair number of newer ones I haven’t visited yet.”
“Well, I’m partial to this newish Mexican place,” said Brooke. “It’s not soupy refried beans and dry rice. It’s fancy street tacos. Light, fun, really tasty. And their margaritas are wonderful. Does that sound good to you?”
“I think that sounds perfect,” said Dunn.
“Does Friday work for your schedule?” Brooke asked “I’m off that day, so I’ll be much more chipper than if we went out on a work night.”
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” said Dunn in a tease, immediately continuing speaking. “Looks like I’m free.” Brooke laughed.
“Terrific,” she said. “They don’t take reservations, so I’ll just meet you there. Should we say seven?”
“Seven it is,” said Dunn.
“I’m looking forward to it,” said Brooke. “It was nice to talk to you, Gannon. I’ll see you on Friday.
“Nice talking to you, too, Brooke,” he said. “Have a good night.”
“You as well,” she said. After a moment, Brooke hung up.
Dunn lowered his phone, smiling, watching the call end on the screen. After a moment, he set his phone back on the table and retrieved his wine glass. He sipped from it, and then he grabbed the bottle and he filled himself back up.
Missy moved through one of the back offices at the sailing school, collecting a few of her things from the desk and her locker. She had orchestrated a sabbatical of sorts with her bosses, based on the shooting and giving them the impression that she was still shaken about it. That was a bit of bent truth, however. The reality was that things at the marina were getting suspect, and she wanted to put a little distance between herself and whatever was going on.
She had reported to Peter that she felt like somebody was lurking around, following her, perhaps someone with ulterior motives. Peter said he would look into it, but that the surveillance system was still down. The IT company was working on it, but they weren’t given him any real timeline. Because of this, Peter said, there was no way he could try to find this person following Missy.
As Missy stuffed her personal items into a duffel bag, a young guy about her age stuck his head in the door and made himself known.
“Missy,” he said. Missy looked up and smiled softly.
“Hey Harry,” she said. Harry worked maintenance around the marina. He wasn’t a bad sailor himself, and he loved rehabbing old sail boats that needed some work. His sandy hair was getting shaggy.
“I heard you’re quitting?” he said. “Is that right?”
“No, that’s not right,” said Missy. “I’m taking a break. Things have just been too strange around here, so I’m stepping down from teaching for a little bit.”
“That’s too bad,” Harry continued, now moving inside of the office. “We’re going to miss you.” It was obvious that Harry was very much speaking for himself.
“I’ll probably be back eventually,” Missy replied with a reassuring smile. “Just… the whole shooting thing… you understand.”
“Right,” said Harry. “I still can’t believe that happened to you.”
“Harry,” said Missy, her expression becoming more interested. “Have you noticed any strange people lurking around the marina?”
“Strange people,” repeated Harry, stopping to consider her question. “I’m not sure. How strange?”
“Well, after the shooting,” Missy began. “I’ve really felt like I was being followed around here. Nothing really concerning has happened. But I’ve felt, a few times at least, that this guy was tailing me.”
“I don’t think I’ve noticed that,” said Harry.
“Hmm,” Missy responded. “Well, just keep an eye out. If you notice anything strange, let Peter or someone else know. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Or maybe something else is going down. I mean, a murder in our parking lot? That’s pretty out there.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “It’s pretty wild.”
“I’m going to take off,” said Missy. “But I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She offered a simple smile to Harry and then, with her duffel bag tight against her side, she made her way to the door.
“Wait,” said Harry.
“Yeah?” Missy said, turning back toward him.
“If I see anything,” he said. “Should I call you?”
Missy paused, and she thought about Harry’s ask. She knew what he was after. Harry’s intentions weren’t very obscured.
“If you see anything,” Missy said. “If you see this guy lurking, maybe asking about me or anything, then you can call me.”
“Okay,” Harry said, a smile curling over his lips. “I’ll call you.”
“Only if you notice something,” corrected Missy. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”
“See you,” he said as Missy offered him a wave and then exited the office.
It took Missy some time to drive up the coast of the Leelanau Peninsula before she turned off of M-22 and down another street. The entire time, her eyes darted back and forth from the road to the rearview mirror, wondering if she might catch a car following her. No such car was on her trail, however, and as she reached the driveway of her house, Missy felt herself relax back into an easy comfort.
The house was not one that looked like it should belong to a young woman who only worked part-time giving sailing lessons. It was a large white colonial with black shutters, immaculate landscaping all around it. There was a covered porch, and above it there was a balcony that spanned the entire second story.
In fact, Missy did not own this house. It belonged to her parents, with whom she still lived.
While the acreage near the home was forested and green, offering the house some privacy, behind the stand of trees one could see vast swaths of grape vines. The land was hilly and expansive, and the vines drew lines across the area. Stretched further out, a beautiful structure could be seen in the distance. It was long, modern-looking, and grey. There was a parking lot and it was full of cars. This was Missy’s family’s winery, Emperor Vineyards.
The winery had been founded decades prior by Missy’s grandfather, Leonard Marlowe. He had spent some time in Australia, working in wineries, and wanted to open his own back home. Leonard named the winery after the emperor grape, a variety of which he became knowledgable in Australia. While the emperor was often used more as a table grape, it was frequently used in red blends for wine. The emperor never grew well on Leelanau when Leonard tried, but he liked the name and it stuck.
Now Emperor Vineyards was run by Missy’s father, Michael Marlowe, as well as by the rest of her family in the area. They were quite successful, and that success was obvious to all who looked in on the family.
Missy entered the house through the garage, and the first room she encountered was the kitchen. Her mother, Catherine, was working on some sort of baked confection. The stand mixer was spinning, and once she noticed that Missy had stepped inside, Catherine stopped the machine and turned toward her daughter. She was a beautiful woman in her early sixties. Missy and her mother looked near identical.
“Hello, dear,” said Catherine. “You’re home early.”
“Remember how I told you I was thinking of putting my job on hold?” Missy said, tossing her duffel bag onto an empty counter. “Well, I did it.”
“I think that’s for the best,” said Catherine. “You’ve gone through too much there. Give yourself some time to process it.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” said Missy. She plucked a hard candy from a bowl, popped it into her mouth, and leaned against the counter. “I can’t just not work,” she said in a mumble. Then she bit down into the candy with a crack.
“I know that you haven’t wanted to work with your father,” Catherine replied. “But he would love to have you. I’m sure he could find you an appropriate position at the winery.”
“I have to think about it,” said Missy. “I don’t want to do the nepotism thing, you know? I want to stand on my own two feet.”
“There’s nothing wrong with accepting help from family,” said Catherine.
“That’s why we’re here.”
“I know,” said Missy. “I appreciate it.”
A knowing smile crept over Catherine’s face. She paused for a moment, looking at her daughter, and then her focus returned to her baking.
“I’m going to head upstairs,” Missy said, picking her duffel bag up once again and slinging it over her shoulder. She walked across the kitchen, passing in front of her mother. Just as she neared the entrance to the hallway, Catherine looked up.
“Melissa May,” she said.
“Yes?” Missy replied, turning and looking to her mother.
“Talk to your father,” said Catherine. “All right?”
“Okay,” said Missy, accepting her mother’s command. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said. She smiled, letting Missy know that she was dismissed.
As Missy climbed the stairs to her room, she wondered what was happening with her life. She was still living at home, almost thirty years old, she had just left her part-time job with no new prospects for a career or anything else. It hit her, as though from out of the blue, that she was floundering in life.
She would have to take her mother’s advice. She would have to swallow her pride and ask for a job from her father. It was time to get real.
The restaurant was long and narrow, dark yet comfortable, and it was absolutely packed with patrons. There was a bar on one side, with industrial lights hanging overhead, and even the bar was filled with customers sipping down drinks and sinking their teeth into gourmet tacos. Dunn and Brooke sat near the front of the restaurant, close to the window, each of them with a margarita in front of them. Dunn was dressed in a jacket and button-down shirt, no tie, and Brooke was in a smoky blue dress, her blonde hair worn down and shimmering. They looked good together.
“It’s so nice to get out for a change,” said Brooke, smiling across the table. “Between work and my son, I can’t really find time for being social.”
“I can imagine,” said Dunn. “I’m actually on the complete opposite side of that coin. I’ve got all the time in the world right now.”
“Must be nice,” said Brooke. She laughed. “That’s a very fortunate position you’re in.”
