The Body in the Boat

by Ami Diane

  “No.”

  “Some mud?” She held the coffee carafe aloft.

  “Fine.”

  The coffee sloshed against the sides of the mug, and Ella slid it over the pocked formica countertop. She placed cream and sugar beside the steaming cup. “Blonde with sand? I think that’s how you say it. I’m still getting used to this diner lingo.”

  Two customers approached the register, bill in hand. After Ella accepted tender in the form of a dozen tomatoes—still on the vine—and a rather large pumpkin, they left the diner, the two kids in tow.

  Ella and Dot were alone. Leaning her elbows on the counter a few feet from Dot, Ella sipped at her milkshake, searching for a segue into the delicate topic.

  “I like your sweater.”

  Dot eyed her suspiciously. “Thanks.”

  It was a periwinkle blue angora. Her fingers fluttered over the sweater as if trying to remember what she’d put on. Then, they fiddled with a gold locket dangling from her neck.

  Absently, she opened and closed the jewelry, her eyes unfocused. When she dropped her hand to her coffee, the locket lay open.

  Ella practically broke a blood vessel straining to get a peek inside the gold-shaped heart without making it obvious. There was a man’s face inside, but she couldn’t make out his features.

  “More coffee—I mean mud?” Ella shoved the coffee pot into her face.

  Dot frowned. Her eyes fell to the cup in front of her, still full of the steaming brew. When she did, Ella stole a glance at the locket. Stan’s face smiled back.

  CHAPTER 18

  ELLA stared at the necklace.

  “No, thanks,” Dot said.

  “Huh?”

  “You deaf? I don’t want more coffee.” Dot shoved the coffee away.

  “Oh. Yeah, sure.” Ella slipped the carafe back in its slot, her mind racing a mile a minute.

  The rumor mill had proven right this time. Stan had been having an affair with the moody woman. Both Dot and Mrs. Tanner were as easy to read as a tablet with cuneiform marks on it, but it was obvious to Ella that Dot’s grief ran deeper than Stan’s estranged wife’s did.

  “I’m sorry about Stan, by the way.”

  Dot jerked her head up like she’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “My loss?” Dot’s grip on her cup tightened.

  Ella took a breath, trying again with more tact. “You two were working together, weren’t you? I’m not saying you were close, but I’m sure it can’t be easy.”

  She considered societal expectations during Dot’s time period—and most of the townspeople of Keystone. Men and women spent a fair amount of time alone together if they were dating or were okay with the rumors that would fly if spotted together—even if they weren’t a couple. And it was certainly frowned upon if one of them was married.

  Dot’s eyes glistened, and she looked away, pulling out an embroidered handkerchief. “He was a friend.” Dabbing at the corners of her eyes, she added, “And a visionary. He had great plans.”

  “For Keystone?”

  The handkerchief froze. “Yes.” Her tone gave the word away as a big, fat lie.

  Ella leaned back into the soda machine and crossed her arms, reviewing every fact she knew of Stan. She burned through brain cells picturing Stan as a “visionary,” and in the end, decided, it didn’t jive.

  The back door in the kitchen opened and Wink’s voice floated in from the kitchen. Ella opened her mouth to tell the owner she had a visitor.

  Dot jumped to her feet and stopped the linoleum with her heels. “Pearl Winkel! You get in here, right now!”

  Wink’s hot pink head popped up in the open rectangle of the passthrough. “Pardon?”

  “Hey, Wink, you have a visitor,” Ella said helpfully.

  “And an angry one at that.” Wink’s eyes twinkled. “You didn’t forget to throw out the old pie again, did you?”

  Ella looked over at the pie case and began inching her way towards it. “Nope.”

  “Wink!” Dot yelled.

  Ella stopped and braced herself in case the woman decided to jump the counter. She’d been dying to try more wrestling moves. Unfortunately for her, the diner was empty of customers and an audience.

  Dot’s face turned red, her fists clenched. Her demure facade crumbled, and Ella glimpsed the true person underneath.

  Spittle flew from Dot’s lips as she said, “Mr. Boyer, the Millers, Mrs. DiMerco, and more signed our petition. Then, your stupid little committee got to them, and they reneged their support. What did you say to them?”

  Wink ducked out of sight a moment before bursting through the swinging door. “The truth.” She marched forward. The lines in her face were hard and etched like granite. “I told them the truth, not those lies you and Stan spun for them. The footprint for the turbines would take up too much property. Half the proposed sites would have to have the houses demolished.”

  “That’s a small price to pay,” Dot spat. “Now the whole town’ll suffer.”

  Ella gaped at her. There was no way this woman had the good of the town in mind.

  Wink’s mouth made a tsking sound. “Don’t be such a feminine wash.”

  “You heard her,” Ella said, “Don’t be a feminine wash.”

  “You should leave,” Wink said, her voice barely contained. The color of her face nearly matched her hair.

  Ella cracked her knuckles like a gangster in an old movie. “Ever hear of a pile driver?”

  Horatio kicked the door out and stood beside Wink, spatula held out like a weapon and glaring at Dot.

  Ella noted the strange choice of weapon. “Really? In a room full of knives?”

  Dot’s eyes darted between the three of them. Ella took a step closer to Wink, more to get a better angle of attack than to show solidarity. But the effect was the same.

  “Fine! The coffee’s lousy anyway.” She whirled around and stomped towards the door.

  “That’s ‘mud’. I believe you mean, ‘the mud tastes lousy’.” Ella glanced sideways at Wink. “Did I get that right?”

  “Excellent, dear. You’re really coming along.”

  The bell over the door jingled pleasantly, incongruent with the nasty woman leaving. Once Dot disappeared out of sight in all her periwinkle glory, Ella let out a dramatic sigh.

  “I didn’t get a chance to try out my wrestling move.” In all reality, she probably wasn’t strong enough to lift Dot off the ground, turn her upside down, and slam her head into the ground.

  Wink eyed her. “You wrestle?”

  “No.” Ella collected Dot’s abandoned coffee cup. “My coffee’s not that bad, is it?”

  Wink chose that moment to smooth out an invisible wrinkle on her uniform.

  “Wink?”

  “Hm? You say something?”

  “I can brew it stronger if you want.”

  Wink patted Ella’s arm. “No, dear. Dot just likes it bitter.”

  “I mean, it’s practically the consistency of syrup.”

  “I know, dear.”

  “You shoulda let me at her,” Horatio said.

  Ella’s hands paused in grabbing the cream and sugar. “Should’ve let you? Who was holding you back? I wasn’t. Wink? Were you holding him back from letting him ‘at her’?”

  Wink held the kitchen door open for them. “We need you in the kitchen, Horatio, not jail.”

  Ella dumped the coffee into the sink. It oozed from the cup and took several rinsing to clean out the grounds. “Did you really get those people to side with you?”

  “And more. Wait till she canvases Lake Drive again.” Wink snorted. Just then, the front door chimed. “I’ll get it, dear. You take a load off.”

  Wink squeezed past her, scolded Chester to get down from the counter, and swung through the door.

  “You’re still coming over tonight, right?” Horatio asked. Ella stared at him. “You forgot?” His face fell.

  “No, of course not.” She bit h
er lip. “Okay, maybe. Things have just been so crazy. But I’m looking forward to it. What should I bring? I can grab a—”

  “Nothing. Just bring yourself.”

  “Et tu, Brute? Calm down. I wasn’t offering to make anything. But I could bring vegetables or something from the market. Maybe one of Wink’s pumpkin pies, but since you so sweetly—”

  “Sì, bring her pumpkin pie.”

  Ella stood in front of a one-story Tudor house at the north end of town and knocked. A smattering of pumpkins in various stages of decomposition decorated the front stoop like a jack-o’-lantern graveyard.

  The door opened, and Shelly’s face appeared, bringing a blast of warm air with it.

  Ella pointed at the moldy orange vegetables littering the stoop. “Not ready to give up on Halloween?”

  “We tried, believe me.” She glanced over her shoulder. “As a mom, you got to pick your battles most days.”

  She welcomed Ella inside.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Shelly asked, referring to the dessert cradled in Ella’s hands.

  “If you’re thinking it’s a board game, then you’re wrong.” She handed over the pumpkin pie she’d brought from the diner.

  After taking her coat, Shelly disappeared, leaving Ella alone in the living room. A warm fire crackled in the fireplace, and the air smelled of bread, cinnamon, and the holidays.

  Horatio floated in through a doorway, an adorable toddler in his arms. It was strange to see the cook outside of his uniform and apron and sans spatula. He wore slacks and a button-down shirt which currently had several wet spots she suspected was drool.

  “The bread’s nearly done,” Horatio said as Shelly joined them.

  “Thank you, dear.” She grabbed Jack from the cook’s arms. To Ella, she said, “We made a mushroom risotto, cranberry walnut salad, rolls, and homemade ice cream.”

  Ella’s mouth watered. “Both of you? How is it that neither of you is five hundred pounds? If I could cook like that, they’d have to cut me out of my house.” After a moment, she added, “You have a lovely home, by the way. How long have you lived here?”

  “We bought it just after we got married about two years ago,” Horatio said. “It’s an older home. The couple who’d built it passed away shortly after the first flash. It had been vacant since.”

  Ella followed the couple through an arched doorway directly across from the fireplace and into the dining room. A lace tablecloth lay over the table, and two candlesticks flickered above decorations of gourds and garland.

  Ella settled into a seat as Horatio placed a dish of cheesy rice and mushrooms in front of her while Shelly strapped Jack into a highchair.

  Waiting until everyone was served up proved to be a challenge in patience. Risotto was her favorite. The moment Shelly picked up her fork, Ella plunged her own utensil in like someone who’d just broken a hunger strike.

  Conversation began lightly, with Ella pouring compliments between bites over how amazing the food was. By her third helping, she began losing steam, and her stomach felt like it was creeping up her esophagus.

  More food ended up on Jack’s face than in him.

  “You like that there, buddy?”

  Horatio and Shelly exchanged a glance, and the cook said gently, “He’s deaf.”

  “Ah.” She switched to American Sign Language and repeated her question. Of course, the toddler didn’t understand, having never been exposed to the language. Ella paused periodically between bites to show Jack the various words for objects on the table in sign language, while at the same time explaining to Horatio and Shelly how important it was for their son acquire a language.

  After the last grain of rice had been scraped from her plate, Ella tried to help clear away the dishes, but Horatio and Shelly insisted she stay seated. A few minutes later, they returned with Wink’s pumpkin pie topped with homemade ice cream.

  As Ella dipped her fork into the vanilla bean and pumpkin flavors, Shelly brought up the newspaper article.

  “Have you given any more thought to that interview?”

  Ella gave a noncommittal shrug. The truth was, her mind had been so focused on other things.

  Horatio bent to pick a piece of pie off the floor that Jack had dropped. “It’s really painless. Besides, every newcomer does one. I did. That’s how my petite and I met.” He gave his wife a warm look and a quick peck on the cheek.

  Ella took a sip of decaf coffee. “How many people read Keystone Corner?”

  “Nearly the whole town,” Shelly said, and Ella’s eyes flew open. “There’s really not much for entertainment here. Look, if you’re still unsure, why don’t you go to the historical archives in the library and look up some old newspapers?”

  Ella considered the suggestion. She’d visited the Keystone Library once before when looking into Kayline’s death. It would certainly be more convenient than peppering Wink, the town historian, with questions.

  She’d been meaning to drop in since the Romani had shown up. Whatever information she found in the library, outdated as it may be, could give her more insight into them. She was no stranger to pouring through texts for research, but it also made her miss the days when a quick Internet search would yield information in seconds.

  Horatio tried his best to scoop up the ice cream soup off his plate using his fork. “Tell Ella what you told me earlier, about the committee.” Before his wife could respond, he said to Ella, “I was telling her about that dannata donna insopportabile—” His eyes darted to Shelly, and his face turned pink. “Pardon me. What I meant to say is I was telling her about Dot coming in and yelling at Wink about the committee. Anyway, she said—well, tell her what you said.”

  Shelly pushed her empty plate forward and leaned in. “We’ve been working on a special piece about the expansion project, getting both perspectives. Anyway, I asked Wink if I could interview her about the ‘Save Twin Hills’ committee, and she told me it’d be better to talk to the person that started it.” She paused, waiting for Ella’s reaction.

  Ella hunched over her plate, her eyes wide. “Wait, Wink wasn’t the one who came up with it?” They both shook their heads. “Then, who did?”

  “Jonas,” Shelly said, her voice tense.

  “Jonas? Scary Farmer John Jonas?” Ella digested the news. “He must’ve really hated Stan. Why else be against the project other than to burn him? He’s got no skin in the game, so to speak.”

  Horatio shot Shelly a confused look. “What is this game? And what does his skin have to do with the wind farm?”

  Ella waved aside the question. “Point is, why would Jonas start the committee in the first place? To what end?”

  They both shrugged, and Horatio said, “Maybe Jonas was jealous that Stan had two women.” He twisted his head to look at his wife. “Wasn’t he sweet on Dot for a while?”

  “What?” Ella said. The two were such an odd pair that she couldn’t even picture them together.

  Shelly’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about that. But it was short, and it seemed the parting of ways was mutual.”

  Ella leaned back in her chair. “Crap on a cracker, is it such slim pickings here for single people?”

  Neither answered her, both becoming far too interested in stacking their dirty plates together. Shelly said good night and took a sleeping Jack to his room.

  After Ella helped clear the table, she thanked Horatio for the lovely evening. He tried to get her to stay longer, but she was afraid that between the warm fire crackling and a stomach full of pumpkin pie and risotto, she’d be out like a light.

  After Ella said good night, she meandered down the sidewalk, humming a few bars of a Christmas song. Nearly every house she passed had a wreath on its door, and a few had Christmas trees in their windows.

  Another pang of homesickness swept over her. The holiday was definitely going to be hard this year without her family. Jimmy, Rose, Wink, and even Flo were quickly becoming family. And Will… he was becoming something, bu
t she wasn’t sure what yet.

  Being with them for Christmas would lovely, maybe even fun, but it wouldn’t be the same. The manor wasn’t her childhood home. Her room didn’t have posters plastered over the wall, and Rose probably didn’t cook a dry turkey or have lumpy mashed potatoes.

  Ella took a deep breath, letting go of the pain. Maybe it wouldn’t be the same, but she could make new memories and new traditions.

  She’d just reached Main Street and wrapped her scarf tighter around her face when a shadow emerged from an alley.

  Six’s cold voice crept over her skin. “Been waitin’ for you.”

  Ella stopped short, the scarf muffling her gasp. She took a step back, prepared to run.

  “What do you want?”

  Was this just going to be a repeat of their previous encounter?

  His hand dropped to his waist where she could make out the faint outline of his gun. His fingers grazed the wooden grips, and a coy smile tugged his mouth. “Seems you got a lot of bodies stacking up. How many you find now? Two?”

  “Three—well two and a skeleton. So, three.” She swallowed, unsure why she’d just answered his question.

  She made a move to walk around him, but he sidestepped in front of her. Tobacco and alcohol wafted off of his sweatshirt

  That’s when she realized she hadn’t heard his familiar spurs. Glancing down, she saw his boots were bare.

  Ella silently cursed. That had been the only way to hear the outlaw coming, although it hadn’t served well in the past. He’d still managed to get the drop on her a few times.

  “What do you want, Jesse?” Anger edged her voice. What was it going to take for him to leave her alone?

  “Name’s Six, woman. Six.”

  “I know, Jesse.”

  He growled. As he shifted on his boots, lights from a nearby porch bathed him in a soft amber glow. His skin was clean-shaven, a foreign look since she’d met him.

  Ella was struck for the first time by how handsome he was—different than Will’s classic, old Hollywood appeal. The color of the Six’s hair, the way he moved about, everything about him was wild as if the outlaw carried the frontier with him.