From Beer to Eternity

by Sherry Harris

  “Getta move on,” Oscar said. “Places to go.”

  “But we haven’t paid yet,” I said.

  “Hop on. I have to make a quick stop during the tour.” Oscar held out his hand. I took it and stepped on, worried about what the stop entailed. Mark stepped on behind me.

  “I’ll give you a discount because of the stop.” Oscar fired up the engines before I could ask any more questions. I noticed a tarp thrown over something that looked like boxes in the middle of the boat. I glanced at Mark. He’d settled on one of the bench seats and patted the spot beside him. I certainly didn’t want to involve him in anything untoward. I slumped onto the bench next to him.

  As we left the harbor and turned toward the bay, the night folded blanketlike around us. No more high-pressure sodium streetlights with their orangey glow to light our way. The water streaming below our feet through the glass was darker than squid ink. Oscar hadn’t turned on the boat’s lights, and I was worried about how he could see where we were going. We headed the same way Leah had taken the boat the day of my sunrise tour, but at a slower pace. The engines throbbed through the boat. I kept staring at the tarp because I wanted to see what was under there. Mark threw an arm around my shoulders and drew me closer to him. Frankly, I appreciated his body warmth. Either the breeze created by the boat or my nerves made me colder than normal. Probably my nerves. Mark leaned in and kissed my cheek.

  Oscar grinned over at us. “How long have you two been dating?”

  “Four years,” I said at the same time as Mark said, “Six months.”

  “That’s right, sweetie, it’s four years and six months.” I looked at Oscar. The clouds were drifting off and the moon started to provide a modest amount of light. “He’s such a romantic, he could probably tell you almost to the hour when we started dating.”

  As another cloud came over, Mark dangled his hand over my chest, and I slapped it away. “What the hockey puck do you think you’re doing?” I whispered. Librarians are good at whispering and crafting euphemisms.

  “Just trying to help you out.”

  “Any more help like that and you’re going overboard. I want to see what’s under that tarp. Distract Oscar for me.” I stood up and walked casually over to where the tarp was. I kept my back to it so I didn’t look interested. Oscar slowed the boat more and turned east on another bayou. This one was even more narrow. Trees with Spanish moss crowded the sides of the boat. I started worrying about running aground, but Oscar drove with a steady hand.

  I sat down and leaned my arms against the side of the boat. Now I was facing the tarp. I stretched out so my feet were almost touching it. My tailbone was on the edge of the seat, and I hoped I didn’t fall off. Mark moved over to stand beside Oscar. We turned into another bayou. This one was more open because it was lined with marsh grass instead of trees on one side.

  “Ever see any gators out here?” Mark asked Oscar.

  “All the damn time,” Oscar said. “’Specially on nights like this. It’s feeding time for them.”

  Ack! I drew my arms in away from the side of the boat. As Oscar pointed and told Mark he thought he’d spotted a large male, I lifted the tarp with my foot. It was a white cardboard box stamped “whiskey.” Oh, boy. Emerald Cove, we have a problem. I dropped the tarp back into place. Oscar took another turn. Any light disappeared, branches and roots scrapped the boat’s sides. Mark came back over and sat by me. He put his arm around me again, his lips near my ear.

  “Any luck?” Mark asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Maybe you don’t want to know.”

  “Ignorance isn’t bliss,” he said. “Oscar is involved in something or he wouldn’t be out here at night.”

  Fudge. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. Whatever this is.” Probably smuggling. Great. Just perfect.

  “I’m a big boy.” He grinned.

  Not what I needed to hear just now. “The boxes under the tarp are labeled ‘whiskey.’ ” He let out a long breath. Surely Oscar wouldn’t want us to know he was involved with smugglers. It didn’t bode well for the end of this journey.

  “Almost there,” Oscar said. “Now, if you two could just do me a favor and slide underneath the benches and be real still for a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

  There was no threat in his voice, but after exchanging alarmed looks, we scrambled to do as Oscar asked, even though it was beyond weird. Oscar had to know we’d realized something fishy was going on. I lay on the right and Mark on the left. My nose was about a foot from the tarp. I hoped there weren’t any spiders or other crawly things under here. A couple of minutes later, Oscar shut off the engine. The boat drifted a few feet before bumping into something.

  “Grab the rope and tie her up,” Oscar said. The boat rocked as someone came on. Cowboy boots came into sight. Not good at all. The boat rocked a second time, and tennis shoes came into view. That’s when I spotted the flag tattoo on the ankle.

  CHAPTER 33

  I bit my lip so I didn’t make any noise or yell something like, “I knew you were shady with that handywoman routine.”

  The boat dipped again, and another pair of cowboy boots came into my view. The same ones I’d seen on the cowboy last night at Two Bobs. Oscar and the other two worked quickly. Minutes later, the boxes had been removed. Oscar maneuvered the boat around and motored back the way we had come. A few minutes later, Oscar told us to come on out.

  “Sorry to make you crawl under there, but my friends don’t like strangers.”

  I wasn’t a stranger to any of them, but it wasn’t something Oscar needed to know. And thank heavens neither of them had spotted Mark and me. They obviously trusted Oscar. As we chugged back to the harbor, Oscar told us stories of the good old days, before the North discovered the Panhandle and its beautiful beaches.

  “How much do I owe you?” I asked Oscar once we docked. A gust of wind blew my hair. Oscar looked at the sky. “Better get a move on. A storm’s brewin’.”

  Oscar, Mark, and I headed to the kiosk. Mark held my hand.

  “You don’t owe me nothin’,” Oscar said.

  “That’s quite the discount.” The wind picked up. The boats docked in the marina started to rock.

  “I enjoyed your company. Gets lonely out there.”

  It made me wonder how often Oscar was making runs. “What’s your family think about you going out by yourself ?”

  “You know what they say,” Oscar said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Need to know. That’s the basis I work on. Have a good evening,” he told us.

  As soon as Oscar was out of sight, I tried to pull my hand away from Mark, but he hung on. “We can drop the pretense now,” I said. “Thanks for going along.”

  “Interesting evening. But I think we can make it more interesting.” He yanked me to him and kissed me.

  I pulled my head back and tried to push him away. “Stop.” I said it in my best librarian voice. Loud. Firm. The one that stopped the orneriest patron from doing whatever it was they were doing that they shouldn’t be.

  But he didn’t and was bending in for another kiss.

  “Let her go,” Rhett yelled.

  I could hear him running toward us. I stomped on Mark’s instep. As he yowled in pain, I shoved him. He landed in the harbor with a huge splash. I looked down to make sure he was okay. He was treading water, sputtering, staring up at me with a stunned look. I shook a finger at him. “No means no. You jerk.”

  Rhett arrived by my side. I turned to him. “I don’t need saving.”

  Rhett put up his hands. “I never said you did.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Being worried about someone doesn’t mean you think they need to be saved. I just got off duty.”

  He did smell smoky, and there was a smudge of ash on his cheek that, against all common sense, I wanted to wipe off. Instead, I pointed toward Mark. “You might want to he
lp him out.” I didn’t wait to see what happened and set off toward my car.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Mark asked.

  “Not a damn thing,” Rhett answered.

  I smiled in spite of myself.

  * * *

  Memories are powerful. Tonight, I couldn’t shake mine. The Gulf was in a fury. Its usual calm gone. Every bolt of lightning made me jump. The windows shook with each rumble of thunder. I hunkered down in my bed curled into a small ball, trying to fight the flashback that returned on nights like this.

  The massive waves on Lake Michigan had gotten bigger and bigger that night all those years ago. The strobe-light lightning surrounding us. My friend and I clinging to each other in the rocking rowboat we should never have taken out. It hurt to breathe, just as it had when I was ten. The boat had flipped over. I tried to hold on to my friend’s hand. Never forgot the sensation of her cold hand slipping out of mine. The last touch of our fingertips. The look in her eyes as she disappeared into the water. I’d floundered in the water that night eighteen years ago until I somehow washed back up onshore. My friend wasn’t found until two days later, drowned.

  CHAPTER 34

  Tuesday morning, I had a huge dilemma, and it wasn’t just that I didn’t want to go for a run. I was tired from my late-night adventure, the storm, and memories it brought. I’d kept trying to figure out what I’d seen last night when I should have been sleeping. I dragged on my running clothes and shoes anyway. Hit the sand and headed east, away from the Sea Glass. The air was warm, the pelicans dove for breakfast, and sanderlings ran back and forth from the waves. The Gulf made a soft, sucking sound as it shifted the sand from one spot to another. So peaceful.

  Should I tell Leah what her grandfather was up to or not? I didn’t know her that well, but she seemed nice and honest, and her grandfather could be headed for trouble. The cowboys were dangerous, and I wasn’t sure if Ann Williams was or not. But what if Leah knew and was part of what was going on?

  Maybe I should talk to Joaquín about all this. I trusted him, even though I didn’t know him that well. What did Rhett know about the whole thing, and why the heck did he keep popping up in my life? Was it more than a small-town thing?

  I’d figured out that he stayed on his boat sometimes, or maybe he lived on it, so it was natural that we’d see each other in passing. Quite a few people were starting to look familiar to me as I went about my everyday routine and on my runs—fishermen, other runners, shell seekers. I could hardly accuse him of being out at odd hours when I was the one who was out at odd hours. At least he had an excuse. Firemen didn’t necessarily have regular schedules like some of us did.

  After I made the turn and headed back toward Boone’s house, I eventually came even with Vivi’s house. She stood out on her porch with a cup of coffee in her hand. The tide was low, so we were almost half a football field apart. I veered toward her. We needed to talk about the bar. About halfway through the soft sand, I had to slow and change my stride. My legs worked a thousand times harder. Vivi and I made eye contact. Vivi turned, went into her house, and closed the door. Slammed it actually. Great. And I’d really thought we’d made progress. She was one heck of an ornery woman.

  I got back home with no answers to any of my questions. So I showered, finger combed my hair, and brushed on mascara and eyeshadow. In the time I’d been here, my face was already getting a bit of color. A soft sprinkling of freckles dotted my nose. I needed to up my sun protection routine.

  * * *

  Confronting Vivi was uppermost on my mind when I walked into the Sea Glass. Her office door was closed, and I hadn’t seen her car in the parking lot.

  “Where’s Vivi?” I asked Joaquín. She could only avoid me for so long.

  “Back in for questioning.”

  Now I felt guilty for being angry with her.

  “They don’t seem to have any other suspects but her,” Joaquín said. He leaned a hip against the side of the bar.

  “I have other suspects. Why don’t they?”

  Joaquín bolted up. “You do? I’m making you a cup of coffee and you are spilling it, girl.”

  “I’d rather have a happy drink.” I clasped my hands in front of my chest and looked at him hopefully.

  He shook a finger at me. “Oh, no. We are not starting the day like that. I’ll make you coffee like my abuelita—grandmother —did. So strong you’ll think you’re Atlas. Then you are going to sit over there and tell me what’s going on in that tired-looking head of yours.”

  I didn’t think I looked that bad. “Coffee it is.”

  Instead of making me coffee, he picked up his phone. “Michael. I need you to get over to the Sea Glass.” He hung up and looked at me. “Are you just going to stand there looking like a piece of seagrass or are you going to do something while I get started on your coffee?”

  I took the hint and started taking barstools off tables. “I’m looking forward to meeting Michael, but why did you call him?”

  “He’s great at puzzles. Former Navy intelligence. And three heads are better than just yours.”

  “My, aren’t we sassy this morning.”

  “Yes, we are,” Joaquín said.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Michael had walked over from their boat, and the three of us sat at one of the round tables, cups of steaming coffee in front of us. Michael had graying hair, slicked back from his face, and see-into-your-soul blue eyes. He was tall and broad. I wondered what getting around on a Navy ship with their tight quarters had been like for him. We exchanged the usual nice-to-meet-you, heard-so-much-about-you greetings. Although I hadn’t really heard that much about Michael, and I now wondered what he’d heard about me.

  “As I told you on the phone, Chloe has suspects.” Joaquín tipped his head toward me.

  They both looked over their coffee cups at me. I twisted a ring around and around on my finger. It was my favorite ring, one Boone had given me for my birthday our senior year in college. The aquamarine stone matched the color of the Gulf today.

  “Go ahead,” Joaquín said. “We’re just here to brainstorm.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’ve been digging into Elwell’s behavior. Gloria left because something was going on.”

  “What did Gloria say?” Michael asked.

  “Elwell had been closing himself in his office, talking on the phone in there, and leaving in the middle of the night.” I paused. “It sounded suspicious. Then he started wearing that ridiculous armadillo shell. She mentioned that too.”

  “You think that had something to do with his murder?” Michael asked. “The shell wasn’t why he was murdered but could be a reason for his murder?”

  “Exactly.” Maybe I wasn’t so far off. I smiled at Michael and he smiled back. The kind of smile that gave me hope. “He’d been wearing it to all of the heritage businesses. And as far as I can tell, it freaked the patrons out. But he didn’t wear it when he frequented Two Bobs.”

  Joaquín muttered something in Spanish. “He’d been pretending to be Vivi’s friend—all the heritage business owners’ friend—while sabotaging their businesses. As you hear down here in the South, ‘he had it comin’.”

  “I don’t think a murder victim ever really has it coming, but I can see folks making a case for that.” I paused. “There’s also been a spate of bad reviews of the heritage businesses recently. But they didn’t stop after Elwell died.”

  “Hang on,” Michael said, “let me look up reviews of Two Bobs to see if there’s a pattern that matches the heritage businesses.”

  Joaquín and I sipped our coffee while Michael tapped on his phone.

  “There aren’t many negative reviews. In fact, if anything, there’s been a spate of positive ones the past few weeks. Some include things like ‘drinks are so much better than the Sea Glass’s.’ ”

  “Well, that’s just a lie. I tried a margarita there and it tasted like sugar. Joaquín’s drinks are way better.”

  “Of course they are. But if El
well was leaving or arranged for the bad reviews, they should have stopped after the murder,” Joaquín said.

  “Not if more than one person was involved,” Michael said.

  We smiled at each other. “Exactly,” I said. “Do you two know who owns Two Bobs?”

  “Two guys named Bob?” Michael said.

  Joaquín whacked him on the arm as I groaned. All three of us picked up our phones and started searching. The “About” section on the Two Bobs web page was vague. It talked about when it opened and all their fun activities.

  “There’s not much information on their web page,” I said.

  “A business permit was filed for Two Bobs,” Joaquín said. “It shows Two Bobs LLC as the owners. But when I searched Two Bobs LLC, there isn’t any information about who it belongs to, and the address is a PO box in Panama City. It could belong to anyone.”

  “A shell company?” Michael said.

  “Could be. Let’s put that aside for now and talk about the other players. Fred Russo is on my list,” I said.

  “The grocery store owner is on your list?” Joaquín asked. He sounded dismayed. “We love shopping there.”

  “I do too, but I was there the other night and he was arguing with a man. The man told him he’d better deliver. Later, Fred told me the man was one of his suppliers.”

  “Obviously a lie,” Michael said. “Suppliers are the ones who deliver.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

  “But it doesn’t sound good,” Joaquín said.

  “You would think the deputies would be looking at Gloria and Ivy, if they are the ones who will inherit all Elwell’s assets.” I looked down into my coffee cup for a moment. “Ivy seems especially suspicious. Setting up Vivi could be for revenge for firing her.”

  “But kill her own dad? Why?” Michael asked.

  “To quote one of the heritage owners, ‘she had ten million reasons,’ or at least part of that. And to top that off, Ivy has a cowboy boyfriend who is trouble.”

  “Tell Michael that part,” Joaquín said.