Smokey Eyes

by Barbara Silkstone

  “Interrupted by a near-death experience in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I meant before you were attacked.”

  “Let’s not talk about it.”

  “If you were profiling the murderer, any guesses whom it might be?”

  “Does this mean you’re reinstating my unofficial investigator status at full non-pay with no benefits?”

  He smiled. “You drive a hard bargain, but I need your expertise. The medical examiner says the knife was driven into the body up to the hilt by one powerful thrust. I’m thinking it had to be a man.”

  The tea was tepid but still comforting. I took another sip. I liked that Kal had come to rely on my advice. He might not take it but it felt good to be asked.

  “Brent Toast was a bully who picked on women. Less than an hour before he was killed he taunted Nancy by attempting to swamp her new sailboat. He was plain ornery.”

  “Nemo’s in love with that boat. It would have been a lousy thing to do to her,” Kal said. “By the way, his blood alcohol was way over the limit.”

  “What I’m getting at is extreme anger can turn the most dainty of females into the Incredible Hulk. Jaimie could have been angry enough if Brent called her a gold digger. But I can’t see her stabbing him over it. Her mouth is her best weapon.”

  “I’ve ruled out Chip Toast. He’s too mild mannered,”Kal said. “I’ve known him for at least ten years. Never seen him lose his cool.”

  “Just because you haven’t seen him lose his cool doesn’t mean he can’t. He puts up with Jaimie. Even took her back after she publicly humiliated him. But sometimes the mildest become the most violent if they snap.”

  “You’ve got a point. I have to get over to the gym and arrange for the lineup. Lock the door behind me. You still have me on speed dial?”

  “I do. Thanks for the TLC.”

  I closed the door behind him with a sigh. The idea that chlorine was coating my scalp gave me a severe case of the itches.

  Lovely warm shower water ran over my head. I poured a handful of Nonna’s berry shampoo into my palm and rubbed it gently into my hair. It stung my skull where the edge of the pool scraped it. It wakened my brain cells and loosened a minor thing that had slipped past me.

  After Brent’s body was pulled from the water, I found Nancy below deck when I went for my purse. My bag wasn’t in the compartment where I had left it. Nancy handed it to me. Now that I thought about it—it was unzipped.

  My hands shook as I rinsed the shampoo. I wrapped a towel around my hair and another around my body, then scurried to my closet. The pink bag was on my purse shelf. I’d taken my identification wallet from the bag but never bothered to empty the rest of the stuff.

  I took it to the kitchen and dumped the contents onto a clean paper towel.

  Ninety-nine percent of what was in the bag was mine—the last one percent looked a lot like a remote key fob!

  Kal answered his phone on the first ring.

  There was a quaver in my voice as I said, “I think I found Brent’s boat fob!”

  I carefully removed everything except the key fob from the paper towel and returned it to my purse. Fifteen minutes later I let Kal in and walked him to the kitchen.

  As he examined the black fob without touching it I said, “My fingerprints may be on it. I dug in that purse a bunch of times after Nancy handed it to me.”

  “How could you not see the fob in there?”

  “Have you ever looked inside a lady’s purse?”

  He blushed. “A few times in the course of my duties.”

  “Unless they’re changing handbags most women don’t look, they just grope around for what they want. That fob feels like a dozen unimportant things. It’s not lipstick, not powder, and it’s not keys. Eventually I would have found it—someday.”

  We stared at the plain fob. It lay there innocuously. Since it was a keyless remote it had no keys, nothing to mark it for what it was. It just looked like a slick hard plastic bulb. Kal poked it with a pen. “You’re certain Nancy put it in your bag?”

  “Who else had the opportunity? She probably hoped I wouldn’t be challenged and would carry the thing off her boat. Brent’s fob had no business being on her boat, unless he carried it there.”

  I gently touched the back of my aching head while anger bubbled over into a plan of action. “It had to be Nancy who tried to drown me. She must know I’d eventually put it all together. I’m going to see her behind bars, but first she needs a good bang in the head.”

  “Don’t go banging anyone on the head or you’ll find yourself behind bars.” Kal gave me a stern look that I promptly ignored.

  “This changes things,” Kal said. “Toast could have been killed on Nancy’s boat which doesn’t mean she did it but…. We’re going to have to rope off her boat—again.” He glanced toward the glass balcony doors. “It’s too dark now. I’ll get Robbie out there in the morning.”

  He wrung his face with his hand. “Nuts! She’s been staying on the boat since the crime tape was removed. I’d better go with Robbie. She’s liable to serve him to the sharks.”

  “Aren’t we doing the eyeball lineup in the morning?”

  “I set it for ten. That gives us time to secure the Very Crabby. We can bring Nancy back to the station from the boat.”

  I nodded. My plan came together. If I timed it right I could confront Nancy Nemo before Kal and Robbie arrived. The woman owed me more than one explanation.

  Kal left with the fob wrapped in the paper towel. I told him nothing of my plans since I wasn’t in the mood for puppy lessons. Sit! Stay! Don’t interfere! — Yeah, right.

  I called Lizzy.

  “Meet me at the Very Crabby in the Yacht Club Marina tomorrow morning at seven.”

  “I thought Kal had the eyeball lineup set for tomorrow morning?”

  “This is pre-eyeball. Don’t tell anyone. Just meet me.”

  “I’ll have to get someone to take Heather to school,” she grumbled.

  “Just be there! And dress inconspicuously!”

  Chapter 16

  Lizzy and I parked our cars side by side in the employee lot at the yacht club. Kal and Robbie wouldn’t notice our wheels tucked between the vans and pickup trucks.

  Locking eyes with my partner, I raised my finger to my lips. Voices carry on the water in the stillness of morning and Nancy Nemo was not entitled to a warning.

  Lizzy put her hand on WonderDog’s muzzle as a prompt not to bark.

  My white on white outfit blended with the sailboats and cabin cruisers—yachting camouflage. My partner stood out like a smashed thumb in her hot pink top and Capri pants. She clomped along in matching pink wedgies with skinny straps that fastened at her ankles. What would she have worn if I asked her to dress conspicuously?

  WonderDog trotted between us as we made our way from the parking lot to the dock. He held his head high and occasionally looked up adoringly at Lizzy or me. His hair curled in the humid morning dew making him look like a Labradoodle wolf.

  As we headed down the dock, I tapped Lizzy on the shoulder and pointed to the Very Crabby. No crime scene tape. We were in time to grill Nancy before Kal and Robbie arrived—if the cranky, possibly murderous, gal was on board.

  I carried a small canister of hairspray in case we needed a weapon. The thought of spritzing someone in the face with pepper spray was a cruelty I couldn’t get my mind around. Hairspray was my limit on inflicting pain.

  We tiptoed to the middle of the dock that led to the Very Crabby when a phlegmy male voice yelled “Lizzy!”

  Nelson Dingler galumphed down the dock. Dressed in full commodore regalia— including a navy blue blazer and admiral’s hat—Lizzy’s father must have been oblivious to the mascara-smearing humidity.

  “What are you doing here? You’re not a member!” He leaned forward as though he was towering over his daughter. He literally fell short because he was barely her height and her wedgies gave her an extra three inches.

  The pompous
Commodore of the Starfish Cove Yacht Club stood between us with his back to me as if I didn’t exist. My non-violent approach was in danger of extinction. If I carried a bowling pin in my purse I could clobber people who really deserved it like this pretentious prig and Nancy.

  Lizzy dropped her hand to her side to hush her hound as WonderDog let loose with a low growl.

  “We’ve come to visit a friend.” Lizzy said. For all her cheerfulness, whenever she spoke to her father she turned into an unsmiling little girl.

  “Your boyfriend has my yacht club under restrictions. I’m to keep everyone away from the Toast of the Town,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of Brent’s monster boat swathed in yellow tape.

  “What does Dave have to do with the yacht club?”

  “Not Dave the fish fryer! Kal Miranda, the cop!”

  Watching the bully take advantage of his rank as father made me wonder whatever possessed Lizzy’s mother to marry him.

  “That’s ancient history. Kal hasn’t been my boyfriend since high school.” She put her hands on her hips and advanced on him. “And it’s bad history. You broke us up! Remember?”

  “I should have left you two together. At least you’d be with a cop instead of a fry cook.”

  “Dad!”

  “Commodore to you!”

  She raised her hand in her first sign of rebellion. “Shoo!” She flicked her fingers at her father.

  Dingler’s mouth fell open.

  Lizzy turned away from him sharply. She twisted her foot on the rickety wood. Her ankle collapsed allowing the thin strap of her shoe to catch in a split in the board. She yelped in pain and stretched her hand out for help. Pinned to the dock with her left ankle bent and trapped, she wobbled precariously near the edge of dock.

  Nelson Dingler, father of the year, ignored her extended hand. Shaking his head in disgust he waddled up the dock without a further word.

  “Are you okay?” I grabbed Lizzy’s hand and pulled her to me.

  “I can’t straighten my ankle. I can’t undo the buckle unless I sit down.”

  Holding her with one arm, I placed the can of hair spray on the dock and braced myself in preparation to help her sit.

  The sound of an engine cut the air. Water kicked out from the rear of the Very Crabby.

  “Nancy’s escaping!” My wits lagged behind the action. I screamed. “Nancy Nemo! You’re under arrest—unofficially!”

  I stepped toward the sailboat right onto the can of hair spray. It rolled under my foot. I teetered for an instant, my arms flailing. Flopping face first into the nasty water wasn’t a consideration. My only choice was to push off my other foot and leap from the dock toward the deck of the Very Crabby.

  Déjà vu all over again. I remembered Sunday’s disaster like it was yesterday, actually the day before the day before yesterday. I swayed on the edge of the boat gripping the safety line for dear life.

  Nancy stood at the steering wheel cackling as she backed out of the slip full throttle. The engine wasn’t powerful but the Very Crabby lurched and I broke into my Cirque du Soleil clown act.

  My nose scraped the hull as I hung onto the safety line and looked to see where the Very Crabby was going. She was headed out of the marina—bound for the high seas where the sharks gather.

  Lizzy stood on the dock, screaming something unintelligible.

  I had to do the unthinkable. Let go and drop into the icky water. I hesitated, steeling myself for the ordeal. Less than twenty-four hours ago I was complaining about the chlorine in a crystal-clear pool, not recognizing Nirvana when I smelled it.

  Splashing in, I bobbed to the surface. Alarmed—Lizzy was fifty yards away—I waved to her. I sunk, came up, tried to replicate my semi-swimming success in the pool and sunk again. Then repeated. And repeated again. I was getting lightheaded and spitting out foul water. I was definitely losing my sense of humor.

  My lightheadedness increased dramatically. I was a balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade…floating…floating…Wait! I was floating!

  Something was under me, lifting me out of the water. Dolphins sometimes rescue people. Could it be?

  My face reached the surface. I coughed out more nasty water. Whatever was beneath me was soft and furry. As I forced my eyes open, a big fuzzy head came up under my chin. WonderDog!

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You’re my hero!” I said between gasps.

  He doggie-paddled me toward Lizzy.

  “Good boy!” I whispered.

  We were only about five yards closer to the dock when WonderDog began to falter. He didn’t seem to be a great swimmer and I was dragging him down. I couldn’t hold on to him much longer without drowning both of us.

  Lizzy freed her foot and hopped up and down on one bare foot and one wedgie waving her arms like an over-caffeinated aerobics instructor. She screamed, “Hey!” over and over, pointing both hands at us with each yell. What was she doing?

  A wave washed over me, and something hit me in the back of the head. “Use that for flotation until I can drag you and that mutt in!”

  I looked over my shoulder. Jess’s boat rocked and splashed about ten feet away where he’d brought it to an abrupt halt also causing the water to lap into my face.

  Ewww! I put my arm and WonderDog’s head on the life jacket that bopped me.

  Jess slowly shook his head and tsk-tsked. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to get into more boat fights.”

  I could have kissed him. I coughed out some more water. “It’s so much fun. I just can’t help myself.”

  He threw me a line and pulled us to his boat. I pushed and he pulled WonderDog aboard. Then he hauled me up where I flopped around on the floor of his boat like a fish he caught to deliver to the yacht club chef.

  I managed to right myself and sit with as much dignity as possible with a big hairy dog slurping me.

  Jess studied my face as he coiled the line. “You look a lot like a friend of mine who recently passed away. Except she was a dignified and proper lady.” His expression showed he knew he blundered. “Not that you aren’t, you understand.”

  We laughed together. I said, “You haven’t exactly seen me at my best. I think you might be talking about my grandmother.”

  “Of course—you’re that Olive. I should have seen it the first time we met. She spoke of you many times. I’m a retired language professor. I conduct adult ed classes at the local civic center. Your grandmother studied French and Spanish in addition to Italian, which she only took as a refresher since she was fluent.”

  More that I didn’t know about Nonna.

  He started the engine and handed me the coiled line. “Stow this in the box there and I’ll get you over to Lizzy before she hyperventilates.”

  “You know Lizzy?”

  He rolled his palms upward. “This is Starfish Cove.”

  As we putt-putted toward the dock, I crawled to the storage box and dropped the rope in. Whoa. I yanked the rope back out. Lying in the bottom of the box was the knife I last saw in Brent Toast’s chest.

  “Jess, where did you get this knife?”

  “The one in that box?” He said over his shoulder. “Sunday, before we met, I got on my boat and darn near slipped on it. It was lying right in the bottom. I figured some fool dropped it off one of the big boats and would be looking for it. I stowed it in there, meaning to give it to the harbormaster when I saw him. I forgot all about it.”

  “This is the knife that killed Brent Toast. The police have been looking for it!” I stared at the black handle certain it was the missing knife.

  We reached the dock and Jess steered his boat against the rickety step. He looked at me from under his shaggy gray eyebrows. “This was used to kill that brigand?”

  “You knew him?”

  “Toast made sure everyone knew him. That detestable speedboat was part of his bragger package.”

  “The police will have to take the knife.”

  “No problem. I’ll tie off and wai
t for them. I just hope they hurry, or they’ll be some disappointed diners this afternoon.”

  Lizzy stared down at us from the dock. “Are you ever coming up? I need some hugs here.”

  “We’re coming. Jess, thank you with all my heart for saving WonderDog and me.”

  I leaned over and hugged the soggy fellow—Wonder, not Jess. He licked my face—Wonder, not Jess.

  “What in the name of all that is fishy are you two doing here?” Kal came stomping down the deck with Robbie close behind. “And where the heck is the Very Crabby?”

  Chapter 17

  Kal pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves, reached into the rowboat box and took out the knife. With luck it would bear fingerprints—Nancy’s prints.

  Robbie took Jess’s full name, address, and telephone number. The professor turned fisherman bid us goodbye and headed out of the marina.

  “This is Starfish Cove PD calling. Officer Kal Miranda here. Is this Coast Guard dispatching?” Kal shouted into his phone. “Bad connection! I’m requesting an apprehension. Thirty-five foot sailboat—the Very Crabby. One known occupant. Female. Age fifty. Nancy Nemo. She’s wanted for questioning in a murder investigation. Return them to the yacht club marina. I’ll be waiting.”

  Kal clicked off. He cut Lizzy and me a look that signified we were in deep trouble.

  “We didn’t warn Nancy!” Lizzy said, doing her eyelash batting thing. She licked her lower lip and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Whenever Lizzy used her feminine wiles it was guaranteed to be an Oscar worthy performance.

  I busied myself wringing out my hair and squeezing my clothes. Trying not to applaud as she wrapped Kal around her pinkie.

  “Walk these ladies to their cars and make sure they leave the premises.”

  Robbie stepped beside us.

  “Remember,” Kal said as he walked toward the dockmaster’s office, “the eyeball lineup is set for ten. You have just enough time to shower for all our sakes.”

  In no condition to counter his insult, I nodded.

  Lizzy limped off the dock with one shoe on and one shoe off. “The leather strap swelled in the humidity and won’t come out of the buckle. Do you have anything I can use to cut the strap?” she asked Robbie.