Some Like It Shot

by Elise Sax

  “See?” Frances asked me, smiling wide. She was euphoric with her new-found power. “It’s made the deliveries so much easier, and I get my hostilities out. It’s a win-win. Not as much of a win-win that you had yesterday. Right? The way you killed that scooter guy? That was brilliant.”

  “That’s exaggerated.”

  “I heard that you ran him down and then you slammed on your brakes, and he flew a half block.”

  “That’s slightly exaggerated.”

  “And then he landed on a manhole cover, and now he has Sea Breeze Water and Sewer permanently marked on his ass.”

  That was true. “That’s not true.”

  Frances gave me a thumbs-up. “Smart bedding the cop so you could get off scot-free.”

  “I’m not bedding the cop. We’re just… We’re just…” Damn. I had no idea what we were.

  “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

  “I’ll get you for this!” a fisherman yelled at Augustus next door, in front of the dispensary. “I’m a drug addict now! A drug addict!”

  “Yeah!” another fisherman yelled. “We’ll never be able to play professional sports now!”

  “Now, now, I can assure you that we have nothing to do with your fish,” Augustus told them, calmly, and handed them bags of hot gummies.

  “I saw that coming,” Frances said to me.

  “What? What’s that about?”

  “The fishermen have been getting stoned from eating their fish. Normally, they just get leukemia and hair loss. This is a new one.”

  “So, they’re blaming the dispensary?” I asked. “I heard the dispensary might be involved with Danny Avocado’s murder.”

  “I heard it was the other taco eater. The number two guy. He was killing off the competition.”

  My pulse raced, and I sprouted goosebumps on my forearms. “You heard that? But Bob Hayashi was on the bandstand with Danny at the time.”

  “Oh, that’s right. He couldn’t be the killer. Drat. What do you think? You’re the murder maven.”

  “Well…” I started, but her phone beeped, and she started up her scooter.

  “Sorry, Agatha. I gotta go. The recluse on Apple Street needs his lobster bisque. Get out of my way, assholes!” she shouted at a couple power scooter riders and made them jump off the sidewalk when she almost mowed them down.

  A seagull came out of nowhere and dive-bombed one of the scooter riders in the street.

  “Not again!” he screamed, and his friend tried to fend off the bird.

  Across the street, the lifeguards had set up a banner with Police Stole from the Lifeguards! written on it. Behind them on the pier, I could just make out John. He signaled to me to walk over to him. I looked both ways and up at the sky to make sure a seagull didn’t have me in its sights, and I walked across the street.

  “What’s happening? Did you get a clue about the murder?” I asked him.

  “No, they moved me to another assignment after the car incident. That man’s suing the department, by the way.”

  “Everyone thinks I killed him.”

  “Don’t worry, Aggie. He’s very much alive. But his leg is broken in seven places. And his ass has Sea Breeze Water and Sewer written permanently on it now.”

  “It was amazing how his pants flew off when he was in midair,” I commented.

  “It was a first for me, that’s for sure.”

  “Should I send him flowers? Maybe I should visit him and clean his house,” I offered.

  John put his hand on my shoulder and shot me a look full of pity. “I think it’s best if you leave well enough alone. Besides, he has a restraining order out against you.”

  “That’s probably wise of him.”

  John was wearing one of Remington’s suits, and it looked good on him. We locked eyes for a moment, and the familiar zing of sexual tension passed between us. I didn’t know how much longer we could keep this going. It was bad enough when he was an ectoplasmic 3-D image, but now he was all man.

  He traced the edge of my face with his finger, and his desire was palpable through his touch. But his face was Remington’s, and that reminded me that he might really still be in there somewhere, and it wasn’t fair to him to take advantage of his body. It took all of my strength, but I took a step back out of his reach and willed myself not to throw myself on him.

  “What’re you doing here? What’s your new assignment?” I croaked.

  He pointed over the side of the pier. I peeked down. There was something disturbing the shallow water, making it bubble and swirl.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Guess. I want you to guess. You’ll never guess, but I want you to try.”

  “A tidal phenomenon?”

  “Nope.”

  “A drowning victim?”

  “Nope.” He smiled at me. “Okay, I’ll put you out of your misery, because you’ll never guess. You ready?”

  “I’m thinking it’s a safe bet that I’m probably not ready.”

  “Sex-crazed fish,” John said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Horny-toad fish. That’s an adjective, not a scientific name for their species. We got an anonymous tip that something’s being dumped into the ocean, making the fish sex-crazy.”

  “Cannabis? That’s interesting. Did you know that the fishermen are all stoned?” I asked.

  “No, but I’m staking out the pier tonight to see if something nefarious is going on. I learned all about stakeouts on Netflix. I have to buy coffee and French fries for it.”

  “French fries. Yum. I’m going to ask Auntie Ida to make French fries for dinner.”

  John arched an eyebrow, and his eyes twinkled. “Or I could buy you French fries, and you could join me in the stakeout.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes. No car. No danger of running over another innocent bystander. Just you and me, spying on the pier under the stars. What could go wrong?”

  Chapter 8

  “She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket.”

  –Raymond Chandler

  Whatever was happening with the marijuana dispensary, it was the number one topic of conversation in the soup shop all day. It was like Danny’s murder had been completely forgotten. I hadn’t forgotten, though. It was weighing on me. I had questioned everyone who wandered into the shop, including the starlet and the action star, but nobody had a clue about Danny’s murder, and nobody seemed to care about the death of a part-time competitive eater and part-time bartender.

  Bob Hayashi was still out there, and as the number two taco eater, he was my number one suspect. If I had more time, I would have tracked him down, but after I closed the shop, I ran home to take a bath and change my clothes before I was set to do the stakeout with John.

  Not that I needed to take a bath and change my clothes because it wasn’t a date.

  It was a stakeout.

  It was a stakeout about sex-crazy fish. Not about sex crazy me.

  Not that I knew anything about being sex-crazy. Maybe what I was feeling had nothing to do with horniness. Maybe it was some form of leprosy or Ebola.

  That would be a huge relief.

  John picked me up at home at ten o’clock. He was wearing jeans and a gray cashmere sweater, and he was carrying a picnic basket and a heavy blanket.

  “Ready?” he asked, staring deeply into my eyes when I opened the front door.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Tilly said seriously, appearing behind me. “And I won’t do a lot. A lot. You hear me?”

  I pretended I didn’t hear her. John took my hand, and we walked down the long cobblestone road into town. We didn’t talk as we headed to the pier. For me, I couldn’t speak. I was filled with a feeling of peace and serenity being with him. Truthfully, this was almost a date, and I was reveling in the feeling of his hand holding mine, of the heat of his large body warming me in its closeness, of our quiet moment together.

  Together.

  The moon was full, and the sky wa
s full of stars. The town was quiet; probably the townspeople were sheltering in their homes away from the threat of seagulls.

  We walked down Sea Breeze Avenue, and just as we were about to cross the street, there was a bright light barreling down the sidewalk on the other side.

  “Get out of the way of my Deluxe Super Warrior Power Scooter Model EXL!” I heard Frances yell. “I’ve got two more deliveries to make! Nobody’s going to stop me.”

  I heard the sound of two desperate power scooter horns honking, and then they came into view. The two riders were putting the pedal to the metal, but a power scooter can only go so fast. Not so the Deluxe Super Warrior Power Scooter Model EXL. Frances was gaining on them with a pure look of a predator on her face. They kept looking back in fear.

  “The Remington in me is telling me to do something and stop them before disaster strikes,” John said. “But the John in me is telling me that dumb people deserve what they get, and besides, I hate power scooters. They leave them all over the sidewalks and block the paths for wheelchairs and strollers. The John part of me is saying that Frances is doing the community a much-needed service.”

  “Ha ha! I’ve got you in my sights!” Frances yelled, almost reaching the unfortunate pair. “No! Scooters! On! The! Sidewalk!” she announced to them ironically, since she was on the sidewalk.

  “I can’t look,” I said.

  “I can’t not look,” John said.

  I looked. The two power scooter riders hopped off the sidewalk with their scooters and made it to safety before Frances drove past. She waved at me as she went.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she called.

  “Is that a common expression?” John asked me when she was gone.

  “Not in my life, but I never had the chance to do something that others wouldn’t do before.”

  He gave my hand a little squeeze, and we walked across the street. John picked a spot in the wreckage of the old lifeguard tower where we could see the pier, but where we were hidden from view. He laid the thick blanket on the ground and sat on it. I sat next to him so we could both watch over the pier.

  “This is nice,” he said. “It’s like we have the whole town to ourselves. It reminds me of when I was alive. Fewer people. It’s hard to get used to the mass of humanity in the world nowadays.”

  Up until recently, I wasn’t very aware of the mass of humanity because I had lived a life of seclusion with my aunts. But I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying my new friends and my daily customers. All except for the stoners and the deliveries. Those I could have done without.

  John opened the picnic basket. In it was a large bag from the local hamburger joint. “I got four orders of fries,” he said, giddy with excitement.

  He handed me a package, and I put a fry in my mouth. “It’s my understanding about stakeouts that we sit here for hours, eating everything. Then, one of us will get up to go to the bathroom, and that’s when a bad guy with a machine gun will show up,” John said. “At least that’s how it works on Netflix.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  John popped open two Coke cans and handed me one. The breeze blew, filling my nostrils with sweet salt air and the smoky remains of the lifeguard tower. I caught John watching me.

  “Allow me,” he said, and undid my hair tie, letting my long hair float down my back. “There. I enjoy seeing your hair blow in the breeze.”

  He studied me in the dark, brooding way John did, which made my blood rush through my veins and my insides heat up. I couldn’t hold his gaze because if I did, I would grow dizzy and lose control.

  Looking down at my Coke can, I tried to think about other things besides John and Remington and my longing to be touched and loved.

  John sighed, and I understood the frustration behind it. He unwrapped a hamburger and gave it to me. Then, he took a bite of his own. “I’m hungry all the time. I don’t remember being this hungry when I was alive,” he said. “I could eat a cow every day. I sat down and ate an entire chicken yesterday. I didn’t have an ounce of heartburn after, either. In fact, I washed the chicken down with a can of tuna.”

  “Remington’s a big man,” I said.

  “Full of hormones. It’s kind of overwhelming.” He captured my gaze, and we locked eyes for what seemed like forever. I couldn’t muster the self-control to break the eye contact. My insides throbbed, and my breath turned shallow. For years, I had dreamed of a moment like this with John. It was difficult to truly believe that my wish had finally come true.

  After a long moment, John smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “If you knew the thoughts going through my head, you’d slap me.”

  I gently put my hand on his cheek. “Like this?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, grabbing me. In a swift movement, he picked me up and sat me on his lap. I dropped my Coke, and it spilled over our picnic, but neither of us cared. His arms wrapped around me, his fingers splayed so that his hands covered my back, as if he was claiming his territory.

  I was on fire. I could have warmed the entire Donner Party and saved them all.

  “This is going to be good,” John said. I believed him.

  He dipped his head closer. I could smell the hamburger and testosterone on his breath. His lips were nearly on mine. I was almost kissing him, almost getting naked, almost giving him all of me like I had fantasized countless times, almost cleared myself of all guilt-ridden thoughts of Remington.

  “What the hell?” John said and pulled away from me suddenly.

  I blinked and tried to remember how to breathe. John was looking over my shoulder, and I was mourning the loss of contact. “What? What happened?”

  John shushed me. “The pier. Look.”

  He lifted me and turned me so that I could see the pier. At first, I didn’t see anything, but then I saw movement. There was a figure dressed all in black, skulking onto the pier.

  “What’s he doing?” I whispered.

  “Probably nothing good.”

  John stood me up, and he stood, too.

  “He’s got a bag,” I said.

  “C’mon, let’s follow the dude.”

  John took my hand, and we made our way to the pier. The guy in black didn’t seem to have any idea that he was being followed. We kept him at a safe distance and watched as he walked straight ahead toward the end of the pier. A seagull flew at him, but he punched it hard with his fist, and the seagull flew away. John squeezed my hand, as if to say that he would protect me. I had no doubt that he would.

  When the man in black reached the end of the pier, he lifted his bag and began to dump the contents into the ocean. John let go of my hand. “Stop! Police! Stop illegally dumping!”

  John ran at him with his head down like a bull charging a matador. The man in black turned around and raised his hands and hopped twice. He looked around for an escape, but there was nowhere to go, and he was about to be tackled by a six-foot-six mixed martial artist who looked like The Rock. I ran toward them so I wouldn’t miss any of the action.

  When John just about reached the man, the man in black swung himself over the pier and crashed into the ocean below. John skidded to a halt.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  We both looked over the railing. There was no sign of the man.

  “I don’t know how to swim,” John said.

  “I wonder if he knew how to swim.”

  John put his hand over his face. “Damn it. I’m going to have to write a report about this. That means the computer. I hate typing.”

  I looked over the side again, but I couldn’t find the man in the dark. “I guess we’ll have to do another stakeout tomorrow,” I said.

  “I wonder what he was dumping.”

  “Something that was making the fish horny.”

  “Like oysters?”

  We turned around and walked back across the pier, looking over the side every once in a while to see if we could see the man in black. Ahead, Sea Breeze was more dark than not. There were a fe
w lights shining through windows, mostly the muted glow of televisions. I looked up to where the lighthouse was shining a beacon to ships at sea.

  I had to admit that Auntie Tilly was doing a good job with the lighthouse. She worked hard, and everything was shipshape and Bristol fashion, which meant that the house was happy about her in her new role and it was helping keep it clean and shiny.

  I let my eyes drift, scanning the hills over the town. That’s when I saw it.

  “A flash,” I said.

  “What? Where?”

  I pointed to the left in the distance. “There. There was a flash.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “It’s just that it’s on a hill, facing the bandstand. It would line up perfectly with…John, we need to find where that flash came from.”

  John and I climbed the hill behind Sea Breeze Avenue, searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. “What kind of flash was it?” John asked, as we searched through the trees.

  “Maybe it was a glint instead of a flash.”

  “Or a glow?”

  “Not a glow, but maybe a glint or a flash. There! I saw it, again.”

  I pushed aside a tree branch and almost bumped into something metal and chest high. I could just make out that it was some kind of tripod.

  “That must be it,” John said.

  “What is it?”

  John crouched down and inspected it. Since starting his new life, he had enjoyed studying modern gadgets, and he showed no less enthusiasm for whatever this was, hidden in the trees.

  “It’s a crossbow attached to a tripod, and it has some kind of automated system,” he said after a couple minutes.

  “Automated? What does that mean?” I asked.

  He shined a small flashlight on it. “I think it was fired remotely. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible, but that’s what I do with Remington’s television, so why not with a crossbow?”

  I stood in front of the crossbow and looked out toward the bandstand. “It’s been aimed right at the bandstand.”

  John nodded. “This is definitely the murder weapon. The killer planned this out and aimed it for Danny. He must have hit the remote control just as Danny won.”