Death of a Hot Chick (26 page)

“
I’ll pay,” I said, thinking with my
stomach instead of my brain. “How much is it?” I added, mentally
counting my change.

“
A Scout master does get some perks.
Two tickets, no charge.”

“
Oh.”

“
I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll wait
while you get ready.”

So, I wasn’t enthusiastic. But, it would be
okay. A Scout event. No problem. But, even chaperones might need
watching. At least it would take my mind off tomorrow, the danger
we might be in after the newspaper came out. We’d be hidden,
waiting for someone to kill Lizzie, who wouldn’t be there.

Sure. Why not go? The Scout dinner
would be held in the high school cafeteria, with its green walls
and bright lights. No secluded alcoves. Just one big room with a
long counter between the tables and the kitchen
.
Everything was held at the high school.
Community meetings, concerts, absolutely any sports events. Smith
Harbor High School was the largest building in town. It even beat
the local movie, with its two rooms of split screens.

~
~

Gregory pulled up beside a line of cars just
off Shoreline Road. Not a spaghetti dinner. Not a ham dinner, or
chicken. “Steamed crabs on the beach, right?”

“
That’s what I said, didn’t I?” He
grabbed a blanket from the back seat.

“
No, you didn’t.”

“
Does that make a difference?” He
rolled the blanket and put it under his arm.

It did, but I wouldn’t admit it. The evening
would darken as we finished eating. Then, wrapped in towels, the
Scouts would snuggle on blankets and toast marshmallow over the
dying fire. Yeah, like I really needed that.

With more cheer than I felt, I said, “The
kids need any help? They seem to be okay right now, but how about
clean-up? They’d appreciate that, I’m sure.”

Gregory said, “Smell those crabs.
Perfection!” He headed for the line that moved slowly past a table
set up with bags, each with a dozen steamed crabs, and other bags
that contained the rest of the meal. Ice chests full of the usual
assortment of chilled drinks were on the sand. Behind the table the
steam billowed from several steamers. One Scout carried a bucket
full of live crabs to their doom. Other Scouts, both boys and
girls, lined the table, passing out the bags.

“
Two dozen,” Gregory said as he handed
his tickets to the Scout behind the table.

“
You got it Gregory. I mean, yes sir,
Mr. Norris.” He grabbed two bags from the back and whispered,
“These are the hottest. Right out of the steamer.”

Gregory took the bags of hot crabs. I piled
our other two bags on my left arm and plunged my right hand into
the melting ice water for a Sierra Mist. “Hammers and tongs and
that stuff are on the tables,” another Scout said.

The tables were planks laid out on
sawhorses. We put our food on the table and Gregory rolled out the
blanket. “Your chair,” he said with a grin.

I kicked off my shoes and knelt on the
blanket. Gregory shook the crabs out onto the layers of newspaper
covering the planks. He took off his shoes, dumped the sand, and
carefully placed his shoes under the table next to mine. Only then
did he grab a wooden mallet.

It was going to be a long evening if it
started with snuggling our shoes up together. I opened the first
paper bag.

“
Hush puppies!” I said. I ate one
before I set out containers of cole slaw, the plastic spoons, and
the napkins. “Cup cakes too.”

“
Here’s your first crab, all cracked
and ready to pick.”

Yes, a long evening. I made sure to crack my
second crab myself. I slowed down momentarily after my fourth crab,
sat back on my heels with my eyes closed. “Umm. Heaven.” I popped
my drink, took a sip, and dipped into the cole slaw.

“
Hey, you can eat more crab than
that,” Gregory said.

“
Just a lull, believe me.” I whacked
another crab, then pulled down the apron. I poked with the pick to
slide out some flesh not completely inundated with Old Bay
Spice.

A Scout came by with more bags. “Another
dozen here?” he asked.

“
You bet,” Gregory said.

I grabbed another crab , twisted a leg off,
then cracked it open. As I stuffed my face, Gregory said, “Nah, you
weren’t hungry. Not at all.”

“
Did I say I wasn’t?” I sucked the
juice out of the smallest part of the leg.

The first two dozen disappeared in record
time. I looked at the new pile. “Do I really need another crab?” I
asked before I grabbed one.

Gregory sat back on the blanket and watched
me crack and pick. The next one I cracked I gave to him. “I do hope
you’re getting your second wind,” I said. “You bought extra, now
eat them.”

“
Hey, I ate twice today already. I bet
you didn’t.”

I pulled the apron off the latest crab. “Did
so. Breakfast, cereal and milk. Lunch, deli sandwiches, grapes,
sugared walnuts, and mints. Filled me to here,” I said,
demonstrating with a sticky hand raised above my head.

“
Sugared walnuts? Mints?”

“
From Kaye and Finley.”

“
I suppose they were there discussing
your trap to catch a killer.”

Oh, oh. What did he know about that? I took
a hush puppy and bit. “These are getting cool. We’d better finish
them quick.” I grabbed the last one. “Open up.”

Instead, Gregory plucked the hush puppy from
my fingers. “Do I detect an attempt to change the subject?”

I crammed the rest of my hush puppy into my
mouth. I mumbled something deliberately garbled.

“
So where are you hiding Lizzie? And
why?”

Lizzie. She’d talked too much. When? Had to
be earlier today, before the ghost incident, because it sure
wouldn’t have been afterward. What did she say? And, why did
Gregory want to know? “In a hotel, of course.”

“
So, when is this event taking
place?”

“
It’s in the planning stages. Well, I
should say, in the talking pre-planning stages. Do you have any
ideas you might contribute?”

“
Sure. Tell me all about
it.”

Now what? “Really, it isn’t my place to say.
It’s sort of a female-type thing. You know. We’re trying to focus
on ah...what Nicole might have been doing.” Yeah, that sounded
good. “I’ll ask the others if they want a male point of view. It
might be illuminating.”

“
So you’re stone-walling.”

What could I say? “Yep. That’s it.” I looked
at the dwindling pile of crabs. “You’ll have to finish those. I’m
full.”

“
Not even one more?”

“
I saved enough room for my cup cake,”
I said. It was my turn to watch him eat. He winked and whacked a
crab claw. I remembered crab feasts on the shore from years past,
when I was a teen and madly in love with Gregory. He was still too
damned sexy. I waited my chance to jump up and help clear tables.
Do anything. I sat back cross-legged on the blanket. I finished my
drink and rubbed my sticky fingers in the sand.

Suddenly, Gregory grabbed me in his arms.
“Hey,” I yelled and pushed back, but he held on tight.

“
You need to wash those hands,” he
said.

“
Nooooo.” But I knew I couldn’t stop
him. Gregory ran into the water, slowing as it deepened. As I
struggled, I realized the Scouts were following their leader. I
wasn’t the only one due for a dunking. At thigh level he tossed me
in and followed, taking me under with him.

I fought my way up, stood and wiped the
water from my eyes and squeezed out my hair. “You dirty dog, you,”
I said. Then I spoiled it by giggling. I splashed him, and pushed
myself backward trying to swim away from him. He charged, and I
ducked underneath him, then pulled him down. Which was a mistake. A
big one. He kissed me under the water. And I kissed back.

Chapter 21

Snapdragon
looked more like a working boat, but it had the refrigerator,
the ice maker, and the electric head of a party boat. The everyday
living arrangements came up short. There was no hot shower, only a
cold-water shower in the outside cockpit, planned for swimmers
emerging from the bay. After I watched Gregory drive away, after I
was satisfied that no one lurked beyond the dim dock lights, I
pulled my shorts and top off, grabbed the soap, and turned on the
water.

“
Brrrr.” I rinsed salt out of my hair,
off my body. I pulled my toes apart and sprayed away gobs of sand.
I stuck the nozzle inside my bra and shivered as the cold hit me. I
sudsed my body quickly and sprayed. I grabbed the towel, wrapped it
tight, and aimed the spray at my T and shorts.

“
No!” Abruptly I pulled the hose back
and turned off the water

“
Nicole’s note,” I mumbled. It was in
my shorts pocket. It had been immersed for how long? Was all of
Nicole washed away? I slid my hand inside the pocket, carefully
pulled the plastic bag out. The non-waterproof plastic bag.
Nicole’s note wasn’t dripping, but it was completely wet. I pulled
the sodden paper out. Unfolded it. There was barely any sign of
Nicole’s angular script.

“
I’m sorry,” I whispered. I took the
paper inside, laid it on the sink drain board. Blotted it with
paper towels. “So sorry,” I repeated.

I should have left the note behind I told
myself as I rubbed my skin dry. But I didn’t know Gregory would
take me to a crab feast at the shore. How could I? I donned my
pajamas and wrapped the towel around my head.

“
Blame Gregory,” I said aloud
wondering if Nicole lurked nearby.

Was that all I should blame Gregory for?

He’d wanted to come inside. He must have
heard the rumors of Pop’s loot, wanted to help me look. Why did
everybody want to come inside my boat? Was the killer one of them?.
Couldn’t be Gregory. But why did he want to search the boat?

I’d almost invited him inside. He’d been
sweet. Sweeter than I remembered back in high school. Even then, he
drank. Not as much as he drank later, but too much. I’d told
myself, “Doesn’t everyone?”

Al had been sweeter. He’d taken Gregory home
so often. We’d put him to bed, the two of us. My boyfriend’s
friend, just helping him. Then he’d take me home. And after a
while, we didn’t need Gregory any more. Al didn’t drink. I’d
married him and found out what he did do. Not the ladies. I didn’t
know about that until after he disappeared. But he wanted his
little woman at home, taking care of hubby. He didn’t want me
fooling around with commercial shipping. Too rough for his dear
wife. My little sailboat would be enough for us. And finally, after
I was completely isolated from old friends, he and my sailboat were
gone, never to return.

Someone from the Coast Guard told me, “The
boat was burned to the water-line. No survivors.”

I unwound the towel and combed my damp
hair. Fluffed it, brushed it, toweled it again. “You don’t want to
know any of that, do you Nicole?” I asked. She didn’t want to know
anything about Gregory either. Not even that he wanted to come
inside
Snapdragon
. “To help
you look for Pop’s loot,” he’d said. How did he know about Pop’s
loot?

Seemed like everyone had heard that rumor.
But suddenly I said, “You needed money, Nicole. Did you find
it?

“
Of course not. Forget I said
that.”

Why couldn’t I think straight? What if
Finley killed her cousin? What if Gregory killed Nicole? Now they
both knew that Lizzie wouldn’t be on her boat. But Finley knew
more. She knew Lizzie hadn’t really seen anything. But Gregory?
He’d talked to Lizzie. Found she’d be hidden somewhere, some time.
Had she told him more?

He had no motive to kill, at least
none that I could see. He was only pushing a bit, trying to get
inside
Snapdragon
. Not
unexpected. Not after we’d sat on the back of my boat, our wet
bodies wrapped in his blanket. Snuggling. Kissing. Twice. Then I’d
pushed him away. “Time for you to leave,” I’d said. That’s when he
asked to come inside.

I took Nicole’s note, still completely
damp and limp. I held it between my hands. “Okay, Nicole, I’m
calling you. Are you on
Snapdragon
? Do you hear me?”

No answer.

Maybe the single hair I’d found still held
her spirit. I got the plastic bag from its hiding place in the
V-berth. I laid the hair across the note, then touched it gently
with my finger. “Nicole?” I glanced at the corner. No dark, hazy
lump growing into life. “Nicole?” I repeated.

Still no answer.

I put the strand of hair back in the plastic
bag. Laid down and put the note on my forehead. I rubbed my ears
and scratched my neck. Closed my eyes. Could I see Nicole? Could
she hear my thoughts?

No way. All that crazy stuff I did when I
was little—convinced my sister. But it was a sham. Had I really
seen things then? Or was it all my imagination?

Nicole wasn’t my imagination.

Forget Nicole. Forget ghosts. Think of the
living. I spoke aloud. “I hardly know this Gregory who doesn’t
drink. Doesn’t turn blotto by the evening’s end. Tastes of Coke and
crab instead of beer.’

He wasn’t the only one who had wanted
to come inside
Snapdragon
.
Others did too. The murder suspects.

Those Scouts. They respected him. They
really did.