Murder at the Marina

CHAPTER 2 | THE RED-HAIRED HUSSY

CHAPTER 2 THE RED-HAIRED HUSSY

I started talking to Scooter again in the morning, but that was only because he asked me if I wanted a mocha. I need caffeine to function, preferably caffeine that’s made by someone else.

I could have just nodded in response to his question, but I noticed that he wasn’t putting nearly enough chocolate syrup into my cup. After the events of last night, I deserved an extra chocolaty start to the day. This required words.

“Scooter, why are you skimping on the chocolate?”

He turned and smiled. “Sorry, I was lost in thought about Marjorie Jane.” He stirred in a few more spoonfuls.

I put my head in my hands. I couldn’t believe it. Marjorie Jane was even getting in the way of my morning mocha.

Scooter tapped me on the shoulder, placed the steaming cup on the counter in front of me, and gave me a kiss on my forehead. I took a sip and sighed. It was delicious. That man sure could make a tasty mocha. It was almost hard to stay mad at him.

He sat on the barstool next to mine with a bowl of Froot Loops. Just like I can’t start my day without caffeine, Scooter can’t start his day without cereal. He prefers it to be full of brightly colored, sugary nuggets that crunch loudly when you eat them, disturbing those of us who prefer to quietly sip our mochas.

As he munched away, Scooter sorted through a pile of mail. He passed some catalogs and bills to me, then pulled out a magazine that had a picture of a couple of geeky-looking guys underneath a headline declaring them the winners of this year’s telecommunications technology innovation award.

“Why do they keep sending me this?” He clenched the magazine in his hands. “The last thing I want to be reminded of is these two idiots. The only reason they’re on the cover is because of my research.” He tossed the magazine across the counter, pulled his bowl toward him, and pushed the rest of his Froot Loops back and forth with his spoon.

I reached over and squeezed his arm. He gave me a half-hearted smile. Ever since he had been forced to sell his stake in the high-tech telecommunications business that he had founded with the two geeks in question, he hadn’t been himself. Sure, he had made enough on the sale that he didn’t have to work again, but he was struggling to figure out what to do next with his life, especially as he was only in his forties. Although the gray that had begun to appear in his dark-brown hair made him look distinguished, it was probably due to stress.

I pulled out one of his sailing magazines from the stack. “Here, why don’t you read this instead? That should cheer you up.”

He leafed through the pages for a few minutes, then seized my hand. “Thanks for being so understanding. I’m sorry if I’ve been a real pain to live with lately.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been going through a rough patch.”

He put the magazine down and slurped up the last of the milk in his bowl. “What do you say we head over to the marina after I take a quick shower?”

I shrugged. Might as well get it over with. Maybe I could talk some sense into him about the boat once I saw what I was up against. “Sure, as long as you make me another mocha for the road.”

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