Clam Wake (16 page)

“That might be more upscale,” Renie agreed after devouring the cluster.

But the Mermaid was a bar, not an apparel store. “How about the gift shop we just passed?” Judith asked.

“Seen one gift shop, seen 'em all,” Renie said. “Hey, if you want to chat up the locals, why not have a drink at the Mermaid? Loose tongues and all that.”

Judith grimaced. “If we're having cocktails at the Friedmans' and then at the Sedgewicks', we shouldn't get an early start here.”

“We can order a beer or a glass of wine,” Renie said. “We didn't have a drink at lunch.”

“You don't like beer. You aren't that fond of wine either.”

“So I'll bitch a lot. So what? You're used to it.”

“How do we know anybody of interest is in the bar?”

“As in ‘persons of interest'?” Renie smirked. “You'll find somebody. You collect that sort of person. Remember what your old bat of a former mother-in-law used to say—you never met a stranger.”

Judith sighed. “I wish Dan's mother had said it nicely.”

The cousins entered the Mermaid, which was so dark that they paused until their eyes adjusted. Judith finally zeroed in on an amber lampshade by the bar. “I think I see a table. Or a vase.”

Renie took a few steps. “It's a hat rack. But there's a table beyond it. I think.”

The table turned out to be occupied by a man. Judith tried not to stare as she recognized Kent Logan. The other chair was unoccupied, but two glasses sat on the table.

“Hi,” he said. “Aren't you related to the Webers? I saw you last night at the meeting.”

“Yes,” Judith replied. “I'm Judith and this is Renie. We're the nieces who are house-sitting for Vance and Vince.”

“Oh, that's right,” he said, his eyes darting off to his left. “There are some empty booths just past the statue of the mermaid by the bar. It's a bit dark in here, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is,” Judith agreed. “Nice to see you again.” She all but pushed Renie off in the direction Kent had indicated.

“Why,” Renie said as they became accustomed to the gloom and found a booth on the other side of the wooden statue, “do I think he wanted us to go away?”

Judith didn't answer immediately. She was facing the rear of the establishment and saw a familiar figure coming in their direction. “Maybe that's why,” she finally said as Fou-fou walked briskly past the cousins.

“The plot thickens,” Renie noted. “Yes, she's heading for Kent's cozy table for two. Wouldn't it be more discreet for them to be seated away from the front?”

“Maybe they couldn't see that far,” Judith said. “We couldn't.”

A portly middle-aged man with a soiled white towel tied around his midsection clumped up to their booth. “What'll it be, ladies?” he asked in a wheezy voice.

“Your best sweet berry wine,” Renie said. “No year of choice, but preferably from this century.”

“Got it. And you?” he inquired of Judith.

She told him she'd have the same.

He chuckled. “You're going to share a glass? You want straws?”

“No,” Judith replied with as much dignity as she could muster. “I'd like my own glass. My cousin is a messy drinker.”

The man chuckled again and wended his way to the gloomy bar.

“I wish I'd ordered malmsey,” Renie muttered. “I'd like to hear what snappy comeback he'd have had for that.”

“I'd like to be able see more of the customers,” Judith said, leaning sideways as far as she could without falling on the floor. “There are only a couple of men on the bar stools and I don't recognize either of them. I'm beginning to think this wasn't a good idea.”

“You already saw Kent Logan and Fou-fou Bennett having what I assume is some kind of tryst,” Renie said. “Now let's figure out how that could be a motive for murdering Ernie.”

“Affairs can always be a motive,” Judith responded, “but then blackmail might be involved. We don't really know Ernie, but somehow I doubt he was the type for that sort of thing. For all we know, Mr. Logan and Mrs. Bennett may merely have run into each other. They
are
neighbors. I suppose it'd be a good excuse for starting the cocktail hour in the early afternoon.”

“Good Lord,” Renie said with an incredulous expression, “you can sound like such a dip sometimes. You know your brain is working at two hundred miles an hour figuring out what those two see in each other and how long the affair has been going on.”

“They
are
in public,” Judith replied primly.

Their wine arrived. “Want some snacks?” the portly man asked.

“What are they?” Renie inquired.

“Crackerjack, right out of the box,” he said. “You might get a prize. Somebody got a little plastic pickle last night.”

Renie wrinkled her nose. “We'll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” he said wearily, and ambled away.

“Why,” Renie murmured, “do I like it better when you find a body in the city, where we can hang out in classier bars and upscale bistros?”

“Why,” Judith whispered back, “do I see Brose Bennett coming this way from the rear of the bar?”

“How can you tell where the rear is?” Renie responded.

Judith shook her head and greeted Brose as he approached the booth. “Are you having . . .”

Brose kept going. “What's with him?” she asked Renie. “He looks angry. Can you see where he's headed?”

“Are you kidding?” Renie shot back. “I'm lucky I can see at all in here. This wine tastes like melted jelly.”

Judith sampled her portion. “You're right. It's kind of icky. I'm not sure I want to . . .” She stopped, hearing men's raised voices. “What's going on up front?”

“I'll go look. Stay put.” Renie scooted out of the booth.

She was barely out of sight when Judith heard more shouting, a woman's screech, breaking glass, and a crashing noise that made her jump. Despite the warning, she hurried out of the booth. Renie was plastered against the wall in an attempt to keep clear of the mayhem. Brose and Kent had faced off in front of a screaming Fou-fou.

Before Judith could speak, Brose swung part of a broken chair at Kent, knocking the other man against the hat rack, which toppled to the floor. As the portly man chugged out from behind the bar, Brose grabbed his hysterical wife, kicked the hat rack aside, and exited the premises. A half-dozen customers were now clustered at the near end of the bar, but kept their distance from what was left of the combat zone.

Judith couldn't help herself. She moved to where Kent Logan was slumped against an undamaged chair. He shook himself, rubbed at his jaw, and looked up with a dazed expression. “Is Brose gone?” he asked.

“Yes,” Judith replied. “He took Fou-fou with him.”

Kent struggled to his feet. “Good riddance. They're both head cases.” He picked up his Gore-Tex jacket and reached for his wallet. “Here, Dundee,” he said to the portly man. “Take my credit card to cover the bill. Then total up the damage and I'll pay for my share later.”

Dundee looked uncertain. “You didn't start that. I saw it.”

Kent ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “At least let me pay for the drinks.”

Dundee shook his head. “I'll put those on Mrs. Bennett's tab.”

Kent shrugged as Dundee handed the credit card back to him. “That's the last time I offer free legal advice about a divorce,” he said, and slammed out of the Mermaid.

J
udith and Renie, along with the other patrons, headed back to their respective places. Dundee was last seen fetching a broom from behind the bar.

“So,” Renie said, after they were reseated, “the Bennetts are pfft?”

“I guess,” Judith replied. “We misread the tête-à-tête. Maybe we should pay for our so-called drinks and get out of here before the roof falls in. I didn't recognize any of the onlookers.”

“Good idea,” Renie agreed, tossing a ten-dollar bill on the table. “Let's go. I'll throw up if I have to drink any more of this slop.”

“Brose must've come in via the back. Why not leave that way?”

The rear exit was plainly marked—once they got close enough to see the sign. “Ah—I can breathe again,” Renie said, sniffing at the salt-tinged air. “This is quite a view.”

The cousins were standing on a small expanse of grass, high above the beach. “I can see the mountains over on the mainland,” Judith said. “There's Mount Woodchuck by the family cabins. We ought to go up there this spring. Wouldn't that be fun? My grandsons would love it.”

“It's been a while,” Renie noted. “If I had grandchildren, they'd probably like it, too. How come you aren't speculating about Fou-fou running off with Ernie? Didn't Zach Bendarek say Ernie played around? Somebody else hinted at that, too.”

“Brose, maybe,” Judith said, and stared at Renie. “I suppose it could happen. Boredom and booze can lead to a lot of bad things.”

“I can believe anything on this island. I can even believe you talked us into going to the Mermaid.”

“It was
your
idea,” Judith declared.

“It was?” Renie grimaced. “Well, not all my ideas are good ones. What's next on your agenda?”

Judith checked her watch. “It's almost three. We should head back to Obsession Shores if we're going to have drinks with the Friedmans before we have drinks with the Sedgewicks before we have dinner.”

Renie looked askance. “That's too many befores. Frankly, I'm looking forward to an after, as in when we can collapse by ourselves.”

The cousins trudged around the building to reach the main drag. The Subaru was parked almost directly across the street.

“I wonder,” Judith said after they got in the car, “if Jacobson's making any progress with the investigation.”

“Why would he be? We're not.”

“Unfortunately, that's true,” Judith conceded as she waited for a battered pickup to go by before pulling out from the curb. “The truth is, there are so many possible suspects we haven't met.”

“You could call your own meeting at the clubhouse and take turns interrogating them.”

“That's Jacobson's job,” Judith said. “I kind of wish he'd touch base with us, but I don't know why he would.”

Renie laughed. “He doesn't know you're FATSO.”

Judith glared at Renie as they paused at the arterial. “Don't use that garbled nickname! You know it's
FASTO
and I hate it either way.”

“Hey—so you've got a fan club out there in cyberspace. I think it's kind of nice they came up with the code name for Female Amateur Sleuth Tracking Offenders. Do you ever look at the site?”

“No! It's too embarrassing.”

“You're too touchy,” Renie said as they reached the highway. “Hey, why are you driving so fast? The speed limit is forty on this stretch of road. Are you in that big of a rush to get your next drink?”

“Just hang on and shut up,” Judith retorted, her eyes on the rearview mirror as a siren suddenly sounded behind them. “Guess I'd better pull over.” She slowed way down and steered the Subaru to the first wide spot in the road. “We got busted. So far, so good.”

Renie merely shook her head.

The county cruiser pulled in behind them. “How lucky can we get?” Judith murmured. “It's Jacobson.”

“You're an idiot,” Renie shot back.

The lieutenant appeared beside the driver's window, which Judith had already rolled down. “Would you please step out of the . . . Mrs. Flynn?” Jacobson said in surprise.

“Yes. I'm sorry. My foot slipped.”

“You were doing seventy in a forty-mile zone,” he said solemnly.

“I was? I didn't think my foot slipped
that
far.”

Jacobson sighed. “Why did you speed up right after I pulled onto the road behind you? And why did I end up pulling a weekend shift?”

“I wondered about that,” Judith said. “I was surprised that it was you. We need to talk.”

“We do?” he asked, looking surprised. “Why?”

Judith chose her words carefully. “Quite by accident, my cousin and I have discovered some interesting information about various Obsession Shores residents. It's the sort of thing that an official police investigation might not learn without a lot of tiresome work.”

He removed his hat and rubbed his buzz cut. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

The deputy slowly put his hat back on. “Okay. But first I have to write you up. The fine for speeding on the island is five dollars for every mile over the posted limit.”

“Does it count if it was intentional?” Judith asked.

Jacobson's shoulders slumped. “Oh, hell. I could let you off with a warning. I'll meet you back at the Webers' place. Let me go first.”

“Of course.” Judith smiled. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“I can't believe you got away with it,” Renie declared while they waited for the deputy to drive off in his cruiser. “You lead a charmed life.”

“At least I saved a hundred and fifty bucks,” Judith said. “I knew Jacobson seemed like a reasonable person.”

“It'd serve you right if I told him you're FATSO. I mean,
FASTO,
” Renie said with an impish grin. “Why don't you bribe me with that hundred and fifty bucks so I don't reveal your lurid past?”

“Because you won't rat me out, that's why.” Judith drove back onto the road. “The problem with telling him what we've found out so far is that it sounds like gossip. He won't like that.”

“It
is
gossip,” Renie said as two bicyclists appeared up ahead. “The young are exercising. The tide's still out. We should be digging clams.”

Judith gave the bicyclists a wide berth. “We're digging for truth and justice. How come you're not insisting I run over that pair?”