6. 5 - EMERGENCY CHOCOLATE-2
1949 Words
“Blood?” Chief Dalton offered.
Scooter nodded.
“And you, Mrs. McGhie. Had you ever seen this winch handle before last night?”
I snorted. “Are you kidding me? I hadn’t even seen Marjorie Jane before yesterday, when Scooter signed the papers to buy her, let alone any of her winch handles.”
Chief Dalton raised his other eyebrow. “You mean to say you bought a boat without seeing it first?”
Scooter smiled. “It was a surprise. I bought Marjorie Jane as an anniversary present for Mollie. I took her over to see her for the first time yesterday afternoon, then signed the papers to buy her.”
“Wow, that’s some anniversary present. You must really like sailing, Mrs. McGhie.”
I snorted again. “I’ve never been sailing before in my life.”
The burly man looked at me in surprise, then at Scooter in disbelief. He picked up the winch handle and put it back in the cardboard box. Scooter breathed a sigh of relief now that it was out of sight.
“Tell me again, where were the two of you between six and eight last night?”
“We were walking along the beach,” Scooter said nervously.
“That’s a long walk.”
Scooter gulped. “Well, we did sit for a while and talk.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Oh, you know, this and that.” Scooter took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been going through a tough time lately with work stuff. We were talking about plans for the future, that kind of thing.”
The chief chewed on his pen for a moment. “Did anyone see you?”
Scooter looked questioningly at me. “I’m not sure. I didn’t notice anyone. Did you, Mollie?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, but it was dark out once the sun went down. It would have been hard to see anyone.” I tried to recall the details of our walk, then remembered that I had seen something important. “But there were these bright red and green flashing lights out on the water. I think they might have been a—”
Scooter interrupted. “Chief Dalton is asking if we saw any people, not if you saw any flashing lights.”
The chief wrote something down on a piece of paper and tucked it into a file folder. “I’ll need to go over the documents of sale.”
“Wait a minute,” I said excitedly. “Maybe the sale didn’t go through because Captain Dan died. Maybe we don’t actually own Marjorie Jane.”
The chief thumbed through a pile of papers. “From what I can see here, it all looks legitimate. I’m afraid you’re the owners of the boat.”
“Does Mollie need to stay for this? I was the one who signed the paperwork,” Scooter said.
“She can go, if she wants.”
I grabbed my purse. “Great. I told Sandy I would check in on her this morning. You go through those papers, Scooter. Maybe you can find a loophole to get us out of this sale, while you’re at it. I’ll meet you at the marina later.”
As I walked toward the door, I turned to Chief Dalton and asked, “Who’s on your suspect list?”
He seemed taken aback by my question. I could tell by the twitching of his eyebrows. They were enough to frighten small children, let alone murder suspects. “I’m afraid I can’t share that with you. It’s confidential.”
“You know, I’m an investigative reporter. I’ve got a knack for getting people to open up and admit things they don’t want to talk about. I bet I could help you out by chatting with some of the folks at the marina. There did seem to be a number of them that held a grudge against Captain Dan.”
Chief Dalton raised both of his eyebrows and gave me a faint smile. “That’s okay, ma’am. I think we’ve got it covered.”
“Fine,” I said. “Scooter, want to walk me out?”
He nodded and walked with me to the lobby. “What was that back there about being an investigative reporter?”
“Okay, I might have exaggerated a bit. I’m not technically one yet, but I’m sure I’m going to get the job.”
“Are you talking about this thing with FAROUT?”
“Of course,” I said with a frown. “How many times do I have to tell you about this? It’s between Lola and me. You remember Lola, don’t you? That obnoxious redhead who wore those very tiny skirts at the FAROUT convention in Texas last year?”
“Oh, her,” Scooter said with a faraway look. “Who could forget her?”
Yeah, of course he couldn’t forget her. She had had Scooter and every other guy at the convention wrapped around her little finger.
“Scooter, snap out of it! Back to business. I’m going to go to the marina and start questioning people. Once you’re done here, you’re going to stop by Penelope’s Sugar Shack and pick up a couple more of those brownies and meet me back at the marina.”
“Sure thing. Brownies and then the marina.” He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry about Lola. I’m sure you’re a shoo-in for the job.” I was pleased that he was referring to my work as a job now, and not a volunteer position. “But do me a favor and don’t get in Chief Dalton’s way. And for goodness’ sake, don’t tell him about FAROUT and your theory about those red and green lights.” I pulled away from Scooter, and he quickly added, “It’s just that I don’t think he’ll understand—it’s not that I don’t believe you.”
“Fine. Whatever,” I said as I stomped across the lobby and out the door.
* * *
One of the advantages of living in a small town is that you can walk everywhere. As I made my way toward the marina, I breathed in the salty air and breathed out my irritation with Scooter. I knew he tried to believe in the work I did, but it was hard for people to accept the truth sometimes, especially when no one talked about it. That was one of FAROUT’s missions—to raise awareness and make people more comfortable sharing their stories.
When I got to the marina, I popped in the office to find out where Jack and Sandy’s boat was located. Fortunately, Ned was staffing the desk. He told me that I could find them on C Dock, then asked me how I was holding up. You would think that a little of Ned’s compassion would have rubbed off on Nancy after so many years of marriage.
We talked for a few minutes about what it was like to find a body, then I headed to Jack and Sandy’s boat. As I walked down the dock, I ran into Penny. She was wearing another all-pink outfit. Pink tank top, pink shorts, and another pink hat.
“Can you believe what happened to Captain Dan?” I asked her.
“It’s terrible to think he’s gone, isn’t it?” Penny started chewing her nails. Her manicure looked terrible. Half of her nails were long, shiny, and pink. The other half were short and ragged. She looked at me. “Is it true that you found him on Marjorie Jane?”
“Yes. In the V-berth.”
Penny shuddered and continued mangling her nails. I thought about giving her a hug, but she didn’t seem like the hugging type. I pointed at her hand. “My mom does that when she gets nervous.” Penny quickly put her hands in her pockets.
“It’s a bad habit. Besides, short nails are better for sailing. Otherwise, you end up breaking them.” She stared down at the dock absentmindedly and mumbled something that sounded like “poor Bob.”
“What was that you said?” I asked.
Penny looked up at me sharply. “Nothing. Just saying that I need to get going. I’ve got a sailing class starting in a few minutes.” She hurried down the dock, leaving me to wonder if she was referring to Captain Dan as Bob, like she had when I’d overheard them arguing at the barbecue.
I remembered the pink fingernail that I had found on the boat when I’d discovered Captain Dan’s body. When the police had come on board they’d startled me, and I’d completely forgotten to tell them about it. I’d have to figure out what I did with it and give it to Chief Dalton. It could be an important clue. Both Penny and Nancy had been sporting pink manicures. Could one of them have been on our boat?
I pondered this as I made my way to Island Time, Jack and Sandy’s boat. I saw her halfway down the dock. Jack and Sandy were in front of her, arguing.
“How can you say that, Jack?” Sandy said. “You’re the one who should be careful. After all, I heard it was a large winch handle that was the murder weapon.”
Jack clenched his fists. “I had nothing to do with it, Sandy. But I can’t say that I’m not glad he’s gone. He’s caused enough trouble for us financially and otherwise.”
He stormed off, ignoring me as I tried to say hello.
Sandy waved me over. “Sorry you had to see that. I think this murder has stressed out all of us. Come on aboard and I’ll fix us some coffee.”
“Will Jack be joining us?” I asked as I followed her down into the boat.
“No. He has to take care of some business matters.” Sandy put a kettle on the stove and pulled out a French press from the cupboard.
“What kind of business is he in? I thought the two of you were retired?”
“Oh, we are, but you know how it is. Retirement savings only go so far, and we’ve had some financial difficulties. Jack has been making extra money buying and selling used marine equipment, like outboard motors, replacement parts, that kind of thing.”
“Does he also sell winch handles?”
Sandy shrugged. “I guess so.” She pulled a container of milk out of the fridge and scooped some coffee into the press. “I try to stay out of his business, except for helping with the bookkeeping. He gets mad whenever I ask him anything about it. After so many years of marriage, I’ve learned to bite my tongue. You know what I mean, don’t you?”
“I think Scooter would be surprised if I ever started biting my tongue.”
Sandy smiled. “Go on, have a seat. It won’t be long.”
I sat down on one of the couches and was admiring the embroidered throw cushions when a calico cat jumped onto my lap, turned around a couple of times, and then settled down on my legs.
“Sorry about that,” Sandy said. “I hope you don’t mind cats. That’s Mrs. Moto.”
I scratched Mrs. Moto behind the ears. “I know you, don’t I?” I explained to Sandy, “She jumped onto our boat yesterday, and then I saw her again later at the marina office. Nancy was chasing her away with a broom.”
“Oh, Nancy hates cats.” Sandy held up a cup of steaming coffee. “How do you take yours?”
“Milk and sugar, please.” Mrs. Moto perked up at the word “milk.” “Do you like milk too?” The calico responded with a loud yowl, which I took to mean “Yes, please.”
“She’s not allowed to have milk. Vet’s orders.” Sandy passed me a cup of coffee and placed hers on the table. She sat next to me and started to sniffle. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with her when we sell the boat. They won’t let us have cats at the condo we’re moving into.”
“You’re selling your boat?”
“Yes, Captain Dan was going to list her for us. Now we’ve got to find another boat broker and a home for Mrs. Moto.” Sandy’s sniffles turned into a loud crying noise. “I’ve put notices up everywhere, but no one wants her. I hate the idea of having to take her to a shelter.”
The Japanese bobtail rubbed up against my hand, demanding that I scratch under her chin. I hated the idea of her going to a shelter as well.
- Writer
