Every Body on Deck

by G. A. McKevett

  “He loves you. So does his son.”

  “Obviously.”

  They cuddled for a while, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies, listening to the wolves howl, an owl hoot, an eagle scream, and the wind blow around them.

  “Alaska’s kinda cool,” he said.

  “That’s what I was just thinking myself. Now that you’re out here with me, that is. By myself it was spooky, but now that you’re here, it’s like we’re part of it all. Part of nature.”

  His lips traced a line of kisses from her mouth down to her throat. His hands moved slowly beneath the blanket, then under her nightgown, exploring her softness, enjoying her warmth.

  “Since we’re all alone out here,” he whispered, “and becoming one with nature . . . whatcha say we do the ol’ Grizzly Bear Hump?”

  “Gr-r-r-r . . .”

  Chapter 24

  “I won’t ask you what happened between you and your husband last night, Savannah girl.”

  “Thank you, Granny. I do appreciate your self-restraint.”

  “Though I can’t say it’s easy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a man sporting a shiner like the one he’s got today.”

  “I’m sure that not knowing is just about eating you alive.”

  “It is. But far be it from me to pry into a family member’s private affairs.”

  Savannah sighed and looked across the picnic table at her grandmother, whose blue eyes were bright with curiosity and humor.

  There was a fine line between wanting to remain informed about the important aspects of a loved one’s life and pure nosiness. Granny Reid had a tendency to dance lightly back and forth across that line.

  Of course, she didn’t “pry” into your personal business. She didn’t use medieval torture devices, and she seldom resorted to blackmail, extortion, or threats of physical violence.

  Mostly, she would just relentlessly pester you with questions, day and night, until you finally caved and spilled your secrets.

  Savannah was there—at the breaking point.

  As soon as the men had piled into the Bronco and left the motel in search of fresh coffee and something that would serve as breakfast food, Granny had begun her interrogation.

  Considering that Savannah was still exhausted from her previous day’s trials and a night of “communing with nature,” she wasn’t able to hold out long.

  “Okay, Gran,” she said. “It was a spider issue. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  Glancing over Granny’s shoulder, Savannah could see Tammy strolling toward them on a trail leading out of the forest. She had a Styrofoam cup in her hand and a big grin on her face.

  Granny shook her head and gave Savannah a sympathetic smile. “You and your spiders. I swear you’d tackle a rabid tiger if you needed to, and I’ve seen you tie into criminals twice your size, but one teensy weensy spider, and you’re a mess.”

  Savannah grinned, considering the odds of having to wrangle a tiger with rabies in the greater Los Angeles area. The chances were slightly less than her having to wrestle a perpetrator who was literally twice her size. Fortunately, very few bad guys were that large.

  Tammy hurried up to them and sat down on the picnic table bench beside Granny. “Look what I found,” she said, excitedly holding out the cup so they could see the contents. “Wild strawberries! There was a big patch of them in a meadow just beyond those trees. I even saw a mother deer and her fawn, eating the berries. I think it was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

  Tammy looked around them at the decrepit motel, the shabby, badly littered picnic area, the splintery, rickety table where they were seated . . . and the glory of the Alaskan wilderness only feet away. “I’m just so glad we’re here,” she said, breathing in the fragrant, evergreen-scented air.

  Savannah smiled, thinking how much she loved this young woman. Tammy lived her life by being present every moment and every place and appreciating all it had to offer.

  Reaching into the cup, Savannah nabbed one of the strawberries and popped it into her mouth. Okay, so it wasn’t washed. But if eating unwashed fruit hadn’t killed the mother deer and the fawn, she figured she’d probably survive. Sometimes you just had to walk on the wild side.

  “Thank you for bringing those back,” Savannah told Tammy as she reached for another.

  Tammy swatted her hand away. “No! Those aren’t for you. They’re for my new friend. He needs them a lot worse than you do.”

  Savannah and Granny watched as Tammy trotted over to the porch where the bear was chained. Tammy talked to the animal in soft, gentle tones, then quickly placed the cup within his reach and backed away.

  The bear’s nose began to twitch. His ears perked. With surprising speed, he crossed the small distance and nabbed the cup. In seconds he devoured the berries and the cup.

  Then for a long time, he cleaned his face and licked his paws, savoring every remaining molecule of his treat, while Tammy stood nearby telling him what a beautiful, wonderful boy he was.

  “She’ll make a great mama,” Gran said. “And our Waycross is going to be the best daddy you ever saw.”

  A few, brief thoughts of regret passed through Savannah’s mind and heart. Now that menopause had arrived, she and Dirk would be having no children of their own. She had no doubt that if he had kids, her husband would be the best father she had ever known.

  But she put the thoughts aside. They interfered with the joy she felt for her friend, and she wouldn’t allow it. Like Tammy, she was determined to enjoy every moment that life gave her and accept those moments for what they were.

  When Tammy rejoined them at the table, the conversation turned to the case at hand.

  “Olive’s still in her room,” Tammy said. “I listened at the door just to make sure she’s still alive, and I heard her crying.”

  Gran lifted one eyebrow. “As long as she doesn’t fly the coop. I’m surprised that trooper guy let her go. What if she takes off?”

  “Where would she go?” Savannah pointed to the mountains behind them. “This little town is cut off from the rest of the world, ocean on one side and wilderness on the other. I guess she could hike back into the woods, but something tells me she’s no survivalist.”

  “That’s true,” Gran said thoughtfully. “I have to tell you, it was mighty interesting, sharing a room and a bed with that Patricia gal. I never knew a real live book editor before. She’s even from New York City. Lives in a part of town called ‘the Village.’ Can you imagine a little village inside a big city like that? I can’t imagine living in such a place.”

  “Me either,” Tammy said. “I’m sure New York is very glamorous with the shops and the restaurants, the museums and the theaters. But I need to have real, honest-to-goodness nature around me. Not just steel and cement.”

  Granny nodded. “I do believe it does something to people, living in a big city. Changes them, and not in a good way. That Patricia is a nice enough girl in most respects, but she’s got a heap of anger brewing down inside her. I think it’s from having people around you all the time. I love mankind, but I’m not that fond of people, and I sure as shootin’ don’t want ’em crowdin’ all around me like that.”

  “Patricia is angry?” Savannah was instantly alert. “How so?”

  “Once the lights were out, and we were just lyin’ there, she started talkin’ about Natasha Van Cleef. She didn’t seem overly fond of her, to say the least. Said she was a difficult author to deal with.”

  “In what way?” Tammy asked.

  “Patricia said that she wasn’t as good a writer as everybody gives her credit for. She said that the last three books Natasha turned in were awful, not even publishable. Patricia herself had to work them over somethin’ fierce before they could even go to print. That’s what she said. ‘Go to print.’ That’s one of those publishing expressions.”

  “Did she resent having to do the author’s work for her?” Savannah asked.

  “I didn’t get the idea th
at she hated doing the actual work. In fact, I think Patricia would like to be an author herself, more than anything in the world. I think she enjoyed the work. But one of the main critics from a big newspaper reviewed the last book and said it was the best work that Natasha Van Cleef had ever done. That really bothered Patricia, ’cause the good stuff that he was bragging on, that was hers, not Natasha’s.”

  The three women fell silent as they considered the implications of this new insight into the editor’s personality. Possibly an insight into motive?

  “In your best estimation, Granny, just how angry was Patricia about all this stuff?” Savannah asked.

  “You’re asking me if she was mad enough to kill somebody, right?”

  Savannah nodded. “You’ve been around a long time, Granny. You’re very good at figuring out what people are capable of, or not.”

  “Savannah darlin’, I’ll teach you, here and now, what the years have taught me. I’ve learned that you never know what anybody’s capable of. You’re doing better than most if you even know what you’re capable of.”

  Tapping her fingers on the worn, gray tabletop, Tammy had a thoughtful, troubled expression on her usually peaceful face. “Where is Patricia right now?” she asked.

  “Out for a nature walk, like you were,” Savannah told her. “Why?”

  Instead of answering Savannah’s question, Tammy turned to Granny. “Does she have any kind of computer with her? Or a big, electronic tablet of some sort?”

  “Yes, sugar, she does. I saw her writing some letters or something last night when I got out of the shower.”

  “Do you happen to know where it is now?”

  “I believe I saw her stick it in the side of that red leather bag she was carrying.”

  “Wait a minute,” Savannah interjected. “I don’t like the sound of this. Remember, Miss Tamitha, you’re unofficially, strictly on probation right now. You need to watch your step and keep your nose clean.”

  Tammy gave her a sly smile that did nothing to alleviate her fears. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything morally wrong.” She turned to Granny. “Did Patricia happen to mention if she has a pet?”

  “Yes,” Granny replied. “She said last night that she’s really missing her cat.”

  “What’s its name?”

  “Pookie.”

  Tammy held out her hand. “Lemme have your room key, Gran.”

  As Gran placed the key into Tammy’s open palm, she said, “You better watch your p’s and q’s, girlie, or you could wind up in a heap of trouble.”

  “No!” Savannah tried to snatch the key away from Tammy, but her friend was too quick. “Tammy, I know what you’re up to,” Savannah said, “and I absolutely forbid you to do it.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Whatever.” Tammy rose from the table.

  “It’s illegal. A felony . . . probably,” Savannah told her. “You only get to commit one felony per week, and you’ve already reached your quota.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” She snickered. “But you know, it’s only illegal if you get caught.”

  As Tammy strolled away, she threw one parting remark over her shoulder. “If you happen to see Patricia, be sure to send me a quick text. I’ll be in Granny’s room, getting her a sweater. I wouldn’t want her to catch a chill out here in this morning air.”

  * * *

  When Dirk, Ryan, John, Waycross, and Richard returned with breakfast, they brought enough to feed General Sherman’s army, and even that wasn’t enough.

  “Mercy, but this crowd can put away the grub,” Gran said as she surveyed the carnage of empty bags, wrapping papers, soiled napkins, and dirty paper plates. “I’m glad I don’t have to feed y’all every day. You’d eat a body outta house and home.”

  The only person who had eaten lightly was Patricia Chumley. Apparently, she wasn’t that interested in socializing. When the guys had returned, bringing donuts and muffins, as well as bagels stuffed with eggs, cheese, bacon, or sausage, she had taken a bran muffin and retired to a rusty lounge chair on the other side of the motel. Sitting there, within sight but out of earshot, she had a large electronic tablet on her lap and was typing away on it.

  “Okay, everybody,” Savannah said when she was sure Patricia wasn’t watching them. “Now that you’ve got some food in your bellies and your brains are hopefully working, we have some news.”

  Instantly, she had their full attention. Even the still-drowsy Dora, who had just rolled out of bed, set the remains of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich aside to listen.

  “While you boys were off hunting game to feed the clan here, Gran gave us a heads-up about Patricia over there. She said she wasn’t that fond of our dearly departed author.”

  Once Savannah had filled them in on the particulars of the frustrated editor with the heart of a thwarted author, Savannah shared the more spectacular finding.

  “Someone among us, and I won’t mention any names, Tammy, discovered an amazing fact that we will know, but can’t legally prove.”

  “Because my girl would probably be arrested?” Waycross said, reaching over and tugging a lock of Tammy’s long hair.

  “Precisely.” Savannah drew a deep breath and cast a quick look over at Patricia. The editor was still typing away, totally absorbed. “That tablet that she’s working on, let’s just say it holds a fascinating document.”

  “What is that, love?” John asked.

  “The very first threatening letter that Natasha received the first week of March.”

  Dirk shrugged. “So? We all have that letter on our tablets or phones or whatever device we use.”

  “Yes. But the one on Patricia’s tablet was written with that device on February nineteenth.”

  “Holy sh—” Dirk looked at his mom, then Gran. “Sorry. Holy cow! That’s for sure?”

  Tammy nodded. “No doubt about it. She’d deleted it, but as we say in the computer hacking biz, ‘Deleted ain’t gone.’”

  “You guys say that?” Richard asked.

  Giggling, Tammy said, “I don’t know if everybody says it. But it’s still true.”

  “Too bad we can’t take that to Sergeant Bodin,” Ryan said. “I think he’s convinced that Olive’s our culprit.”

  “Could they both be in on it?” Dora asked. “You said yesterday that Olive wasn’t smart enough to do it on her own. But Patricia’s very intelligent. You’d have to be to do the job of an editor. Why, I once knew this girl in college who was very smart, and she wanted to be a big-time editor in New York, like that Patricia is. But even though she majored in English . . . or was it English literature? It might have been—”

  “So, what’s our next move?” Dirk said, placing his hand over his mother’s and giving it a squeeze. “Should we confront Patricia?”

  “Not about the letter,” Savannah said. “We can’t, since there’s no legal way we’d know about it.”

  “What if you just question her about what she was doing yesterday?” Dora offered. “See if she has an alibi for the time of the accident.”

  Everyone stared at her for a moment, expecting more. But she was finished.

  How refreshing and sensible, Savannah thought.

  “Good idea,” she told Dora. “Thank you.”

  “Whether she has an alibi or not,” Dirk said, “she’ll still have to answer for that letter sooner or later. We’ll just have to work out a way to tell Sergeant Bodin that he needs to check that tablet of hers.”

  “One step at a time.” Savannah rose from the table. “I think it’s time for me to have a chat with Ms. Chumley.”

  “Keep in mind how smart she is,” Dora warned her. “Geniuses, they’re very different from us regular folks, you know. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t tend to be those guys with the Coke bottle glasses and all nerdy, shy, and frail. The majority of them are taller and healthier and better socially adjusted than the rest. . . .”

  Savannah could hear Dora droning almost the entire way as she walked across the pro
perty to where Patricia was sitting. But when she glanced back over her shoulder she saw that, even though everyone else was ignoring her soliloquy and talking among themselves, Richard Jones was listening to his wife with rapt attention. He looked as though he was totally fascinated with every word that fell from her lips.

  Love came in many forms, and that was love.

  Chapter 25

  “I don’t understand,” Patricia said, her eyes blazing, her hands on her hips. “Why are you asking me my whereabouts yesterday? Do you and your little half-ass security detail consider me a suspect?”

  Savannah swallowed the insult to her agency and held Patricia’s gaze, her own eyes intense and searching. Since the moment Savannah had asked the woman to have a chat with her in the privacy of her room, Patricia had been difficult. She had taken Savannah to the unit she shared with Granny, and offered her a seat in the room’s one chair beside the dresser. But that had been the extent of her hospitality.

  Once Savannah had asked the first hard question, the woman had gone from neutral to overdrive in a heartbeat.

  “We consider everyone a suspect until we can prove that they aren’t,” Savannah told her. “We’re just naturally suspicious people. Comes in handy for PIs.”

  Patricia stomped over to the stack of suitcases and shopping bags. She began tossing the bags onto the bed. “Yes, I have an alibi. Yesterday, I had a lovely day shopping,” she said. “I bought Alaska stuff for my sister, my nieces and nephews, and everybody back at the office. That’s what I did with my day. I didn’t spend it murdering anybody.”

  She sat down abruptly on the foot of the bed, as though she had just run out of fuel. Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t even hear about what had happened until I got back to the ship.”

  “How were you informed?”

  “I went to the cafeteria to get a soft serve ice-cream cone, and I overheard two little old ladies discussing it as they raided the cookie bar. They were very upset because they’d booked the cruise just to see Natasha. They had signed up for an onboard writing class with her and everything. They were heartbroken.”