“The bathroom is spotless! You didn’t have to, really. I would have done it when I got home.”
Okay, guilt got the better of me, and I didn’t relax the whole time she was gone. But it was just the guest bath, which didn’t get used much.
“It took about ten minutes,” I replied. “No big deal.”
“It is to me. I was not looking forward to having to do that when I got home.”
I got up from my spot on the couch and stowed my paperback in my purse. I never had enough reading time, and yet I seemed to be buying more books lately. It couldn’t have anything to do with the bookstore owner.
I helped Karen get the chicken started in a simple chicken broth with salt and pepper. We took the chilled frosting out and started assembling the red velvet cake: three deep red layers trimmed to stack neatly atop one another, cushioned with rich cream cheese frosting. When she had the cake covered to her satisfaction, Karen brought out the final touch: a ring of toasted pecan halves.
Steam rising off the bubbling pot wafted the aroma of chicken through the kitchen. Karen turned down the heat and covered the pot.
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully as we chopped carrots and laid out the ingredients for the dumplings and biscuits that would accompany the meal. Although dumplings and biscuits were the same basic dough, southern cooks always serve some kind of bread for sopping up the gravy or sauce from the main dish.
The topic of Riley Freed remained closed. I’d found out as much as I was going to. I’d learned long ago that when Karen made up her mind, there was no argument that would change it. Besides, if their history was any indication, she and Riley would soon find a way to blow it all to hell without any outside intervention.
Chapter 7
FELIPE AND ERNIE ARRIVED AT SIX THIRTY. I ANswered the door and led them back to the kitchen, where Karen was dropping dumplings into the bubbling chicken broth.
She replaced the lid on the pot and turned to greet the new arrivals. “Stylin’,” she said with an approving nod at Ernie. Tall and slender, he somehow made chinos and a 1950s bowling shirt look elegant.
His partner, Felipe, grinned proudly. “He does look good, doesn’t he?”
We exchanged hugs all around. Felipe set a six-pack of perfectly chilled longnecks on the table and extracted a pair of bottles. He twisted the caps off and offered them to Karen and me. “Ladies first.”
He took out another pair, gave one to Ernie, and stashed the last two in the refrigerator. We’d established the pattern early on—a round of beer while we finished cooking and settled down, then sweet tea with the meal and more tea, or coffee for Felipe, with dessert.
I took a long pull on my bottle, feeling the cold beer slide down my throat. Outside the weather was still cool, but in a kitchen warm from several hours of cooking, the cold liquid was refreshing.
The table was set, and Felipe and Ernie took their usual places while I helped Karen with the last-minute tasks: glazing carrots, heating green beans, and putting biscuits in the oven.
Karen began ladling chicken and dumplings into bowls, and everyone pitched in to ferry food to the table. Empty beer bottles were stowed in the recycling bin, replaced by a pitcher of sweet tea and tall glasses of ice.
For the first several minutes, the conversation revolved around the food. “I was going to have fish,” Karen explained, “but then I couldn’t get anything fresh because Riley didn’t go out like he’d planned.”
Ernie and Felipe exchanged a look. Clearly they had heard about Bobby. There was no such thing as a secret in a town as small as Keyhole Bay. It was only a question of how long it took for news to travel.
And bad news traveled fast.
“How is Bobby doing?” Ernie asked. His usual wide smile was gone, replaced by a concerned frown.
“Bobby?” Felipe snorted. “How about Riley? His idiot brother takes Ocean Breeze out for a joyride with some shady guys and ends up getting arrested and costing Riley his boat. He’s the one you should be asking about.”
“Is that what you heard?” Karen sounded incredulous. “Is that really what people are saying?”
Felipe leaned back in the face of Karen’s onslaught. “Down, girl! Yeah, that’s what we heard. But we’ve been here long enough to know all about Bobby.”
“What do you mean, you know ‘all about’ Bobby?”
Ernie intervened, laying a hand on Felipe’s arm to stop his response. “What we’ve heard,” he said, “is that Bobby is impulsive and undisciplined. That he’s always looking for shortcuts to big money. That you can’t believe his promises, and you shouldn’t invest in his schemes. I’ve also heard,” he continued with a warning glance at Felipe, “that he’s a nice guy, fun to be around, and he’d give you the shirt off his back—even if it isn’t his shirt to give.”
By the time he finished, Karen had relaxed slightly, but her expression was still troubled. “I don’t suppose I need to ask where you heard all this,” she grumbled. “The Merchants’ Association gossips more than the little old ladies of the church auxiliary quilting circle.”
“Don’t insult the quilting circle,” I chimed in. “At least they try to do something for the community.”
“So does the Merchants’ Association,” Felipe shot back. “Just because some people”—he shot me a pointed look—“choose not to participate, doesn’t mean they aren’t a good organization.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times,” I answered, “I’m not old or a boy, so I’m really not qualified.”
Ernie shook his head at Felipe. “We will never change her mind, cher. But someday she will see the error of her ways.” He shrugged his shoulders in an elegant gesture. “In the meantime, we can only share our wisdom with her.”
I giggled at his pious pronouncement. Couldn’t help it.
We’d been having this same argument for years. Even though I understood the importance of sharing business information locally, facing a room of backslapping good ol’ boys was too much to ask. I settled for getting reports from Ernie and Felipe and supporting the other local merchants whenever I could.
“Back to the question of Bobby and Riley,” I said, once again serious. “What you’ve heard is wrong. Or at least greatly exaggerated.”
I looked at Karen, giving her the chance to step in.
“I was with Riley last night,” she said, “and again this afternoon. Yes, Bobby got arrested, and Ocean Breeze was seized.
“But that doesn’t mean Riley’s lost his boat,” she continued. “And it doesn’t mean Bobby’s guilty of anything, either.”
She sighed. “Yeah, my brother-in-law can be an idiot, and he does some pretty stupid stuff because he can’t see past his next beer. He can trust the wrong people—especially if they act like they’re buying his big-shot act—but he’s not cut out for a life of crime. Too risky, and Bobby is kind of opposed to taking risks when it comes to his own safety and comfort.”
I bit my tongue to keep from commenting on the fact she had referred to Bobby as her brother-in-law, without her usual qualifier of former. Interesting.
“And yet he works on a commercial fishing boat?” Felipe asked. “That doesn’t sound safe or comfortable.”
“Fishing’s what he knows,” Karen said. “He grew up on the water—his dad fished, his uncles fished—and now his big brother owns a boat and can give him a job. To him, fishing is just what his family does. He isn’t much of a long-term kind of guy. Probably doesn’t think about what might happen in the next month, so if there isn’t a storm right now, he doesn’t see the danger.”
“I have to agree with Karen,” I said. “I’ve known Bobby almost as long as I’ve known her and Riley, though mostly just as Riley’s little brother. But he’s way too laid-back and go-with-the-flow to get involved with smugglers.”
I mentally added, Except maybe as a customer. But even then, he wouldn’t know anything of value to the investigators, and the most he could be busted for was simple possession.
“It sounds like you’re convinced he’s innocent,” Felipe said.
“I am,” Karen replied. “Enough to put my money where my mouth is. I posted Bobby’s bail.”
Ernie’s eyes widened in shock. “Girl, you must have way more money than I thought! I heard a bunch of numbers thrown around, some as high as half a million. Where’d you get that kind of money?”
He stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry, that is absolutely none of my business. My mama would be washin’ my mouth out with soap for saying that, and then lecturing me about respect. My apologies, Miss Karen.”
It was difficult to tell with his cocoa-colored skin, but it looked like he was actually blushing.
Karen just laughed at his distress. “Don’t I wish! It was nowhere near that much. I paid a few thousand for the bond and put up the house as collateral.”
She saw the stricken look on the two men’s faces and hurried ahead. “It was Riley’s house, too. And he couldn’t pledge Ocean Breeze while it was impounded. It’s really okay,” she reassured them. “Riley will get the boat back, and he’ll pay me back. He always does.”
Always does? Apparently there were a few more things my best friend wasn’t telling me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned me. “It’s like any other business: sometimes he needs money before he gets paid. I’ve made a couple loans, is all. And I make better interest than I do letting the money sit in the bank.”
Somehow I didn’t think she was getting interest on the money she paid for Bobby’s bail.
And why wasn’t I reassured? Probably because we always underestimated Bobby’s ability to get himself in trouble.
It didn’t take long to get an answer to my question.
Karen was cutting the cake when the phone rang. I jumped up to answer it, since her fingers were sticky with frosting.
I listened to Riley’s voice for a minute after I answered, my heart sinking into my shoes. Finally I stopped him.
“I think you better talk directly to Karen, Riley.”
Karen wiped her hands on a dish towel, her face twisting into a scowl at my words. “What?” she said to me.
I just shook my head and held out the phone. I didn’t want to be involved in this conversation, although I knew I would be.
I served dessert and poured Felipe’s coffee. I paused a moment, then poured a cup for myself.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 8
WE PICKED AT OUR CAKE, TRYING NOT TO LISTEN TO Karen’s end of what was clearly a distressing conversation. I knew what Riley was telling her, but I couldn’t share it with Felipe and Ernie. That was Karen’s choice, although the news would be all over town by morning.
When she finally came back to the table, her scowl had deepened, twisting her face into a mask of anger. And fear.
Ernie reached out and wrapped his long fingers around her arm. “What is it, darlin’? You look like you been hit with some powerful bad news.”
“Yeah. It just”—she pulled herself together with an effort—“just doesn’t get much worse.”
Ernie loosened his grip and rubbed her arm. “It’s all friends here, girl. You can tell us.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said, but the fear in her eyes told us she maybe could believe, though she didn’t want to.
“That was Riley,” she said unnecessarily; they’d all heard me call him by name. “Bobby’s back in jail. Bail revoked.”
“But that really isn’t your problem, is it?” Ernie was genuinely puzzled. “It means you’re off the hook for the bond. And you said Riley would pay you back for the fee.”
“He will, for all the good it did him. But that was never the issue.”
“Then what is the issue?” Felipe blurted out.
“There’s no bail this time because he’s charged with murder. One of Bobby’s diver clients was just found behind The Tank with a gaff hook in his chest.”
Felipe turned a sickly green at her description.
I looked down and found myself staring at the dark brown-red of the red velvet cake. My stomach roiled, the dark black coffee suddenly turning to burning acid, and I pushed the cake away. I couldn’t bear to look at it.
“Oh man! You didn’t need to know that,” she moaned. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No, no,” Ernie murmured, still stroking her arm. “You can’t keep something like that bottled up inside.”
I got up and moved around to stand beside Karen’s chair. I put my arm around her shoulders and she leaned against me, as if she couldn’t hold herself upright.
“So what do we do now?” I asked her.
She hesitated, and I knew what her answer was. Riley needed her, and she needed to go.
“I’ll clean up,” I said. “You go do whatever you need to.”
She looked up, clearly relieved. “You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure,” I answered. “It’s family. You need to go.”
It took another few minutes for Karen to gather her shoulder bag, which bulged suspiciously, like someone had stuffed in a change of clothes. The ruse wasn’t lost on Felipe and Ernie, and as soon as she was out the door they were on me like ticks on a hound, wanting to know what exactly was going on.
“I don’t know exactly,” I said. It was the truth. I had some suspicions, but no real confirmation. “It’s clear that she and Riley are still close, maybe closer than I thought. But this is about family. Karen has her own family, true, but the Freeds made her part of their family long before she married Riley.
“I always figured that was a big part of why she and Riley stayed so cordial after the divorce: his folks would have lost their only daughter.
“Now I’m not so sure there weren’t other reasons.”
I cleared the table while I talked. Ernie came over and started loading the dishwasher, and Felipe stowed leftovers in the fridge.
Our cake sat on the table, still untouched.
“You should take that home.” I dug out some plastic containers from the bottom cupboard and rooted around to find the matching lids. But this was Karen’s kitchen, and I finally settled for stretching pieces of plastic wrap over the tops.
Karen did have a cover for the cake plate, a diner-style pedestal that echoed the mid-century design of her dinette. I slid her untouched piece back onto the plate and put the dome over the stand. It looked right at home in the middle of her chrome-and-Formica table.
It was still early by our Thursday-night standards when I got home and unlocked the back door. Julie had set the alarms I’d installed after the break-in last fall, and I disarmed and then reset them.
I walked up front, intending to make a quick tour of the shop and then head upstairs. To my surprise, Bluebeard was awake, as if he’d been waiting for me to come home.
I crossed the dimly lit shop, pale shadows thrown across the displays by the faint light filtered through the front windows.
Only a few months earlier, I’d found the shop trashed and Bluebeard waiting for me. Tonight, even with nothing out of place and everything locked and secured as it should be, I had a strange sense of foreboding.
But instead of speaking up, Bluebeard hopped off his perch onto my arm and nestled his head under my chin, a sure sign he was upset and needed comforting.
“What is it, Bluebeard? What’s wrong?”
In spite of several minutes of cajoling, he refused to speak. He ate a biscuit, then hopped back into his cage and tucked his head into his chest. He was going to sleep, and he had nothing to say.
Somehow, his silence was spookier than anything he could have said.
I think.
I needed some comforting myself, and there was one person I could call any time, day or night. Linda Miller. A friend of my mother’s and my foster mom after my parents were killed, she was like the older sister I never had, and she was always there when I needed her. Like right now.
Linda picked up on the second ring. I could feel her concern through the pho
ne the instant she recognized my voice. “You don’t sound so good,” she said.
How did she get that from Hello?
Before I answered, she went on. “I heard about Bobby getting himself in hot water last night. How’s Riley holding up?”
I didn’t have to ask how she’d heard. Gossip was a time-honored tradition in small towns, and Keyhole Bay did its part. In fact, I’d have been surprised if she hadn’t heard.
“He’s been better,” I answered. “You have a minute? It’s been a bad night, and I could use someone to talk to.”
“I’ll be right over.” She hung up before I could stop her. I could have called her back, told her we could talk on the phone, but the truth was I would be happier with her there.
A couple minutes later, she tapped at the back door.
We went upstairs, and Linda immediately put a pot on the stove. It was her universal cure for every ailment: a cup of hot cocoa. Even if the cocoa didn’t do any actual good, there was something incredibly comforting about her fixing it for me.
I could feel her watching me as she stirred the cocoa. She had questions, but she was willing to wait until she could sit down and give me her full attention.
“Now,” she said when she handed me a steaming mug and joined me on the sofa, “tell me what’s bothering you.”
“It’s Bobby. They revoked his bail, and he’s back in jail.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“Unfortunately, it does.” I tried a sip of the cocoa. Still too hot to drink. “Riley called about the time we finished dinner. One of Bobby’s customers was killed. They found him behind The Tank, and the cops think Bobby did it.” I left out any mention of the gaff hook. It was just too gruesome to think about.
Linda stared at me in shock.
“That’s really all I know. But I can’t imagine Bobby doing anything like that. He wasn’t a fighter; he’d try to talk his way out of whatever trouble he got into.”
“And if that didn’t work,” Linda said, “he’d get his big brothers to help him out.”
Murder Hooks a Mermaid Page 5
