Murder At Tropical Cove Marina (Cozy Mystery) (Sea Cozy Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

I made my way slowly back to the office thinking about the package. When I got back, Ethan was already waiting for me. I had so much to tell him, my mind wouldn’t stop racing with all the new information I had acquired. We went to the forensics lab and dropped off the garbage bags so they could analyze the bottles of oil for fingerprints and such. After that, we headed North to Ms. Johnson place. I had so much to talk about, from Croc and Gregg’s witness of Robert’s argument with Guz, to Carol and Ms. Johnson’s involvement with Robert. He filled me in on the alibi he got from Carol, as well as those of the fisherman and other boaters around the area.

Ethan explained, “Everyone seemed to pass with flying colors and their alibis checked out fine.” He continued, “Visiting Ms. Johnson will help further the investigation, and retrieving fingerprints from the teak oil bottles could give us a lucky break. I hope. Anyway, we sure, uh, could use something to help us figure out what exactly happened that night.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “If it actually was a case of poisoning, I, uh, want to catch the killer. Robert was too nice a guy to have something like this happen to him.” He seemed to notice what he was doing to the steering wheel and loosened his grip. “Anyhow, that’s what I think.” He glanced over at me and gave me a little embarrassed smile.

The time flew by quickly. We arrived at Ms Johnson’s place in little under an hour. She lived in a doublewide trailer located in a woodsy area in what people would describe as ‘Podunk country’. Behind her property was a nice canal with tangled and twisted mangroves alongside the banks. The closest city-type civilization was a good twenty minutes away.  

Ms. Johnson greeted us at the door wearing cutoff jean shorts and a tight, white t-shirt. “Maddie? Ethan? Hi! My goodness, this is quite the surprise. What brings y’all to my neck of the woods?” Ms. Johnson had retired early from her school teaching job at the age of 58 to enjoy her favorite activities: boating, camping, and traveling. She didn’t look 58; in fact, she looks better than most 30-year-olds. Her active lifestyle had rewarded her with a firm, muscled body, and her plastic surgeon had rewarded her with breasts that completed a body with perfect proportions. Her pale blonde hair—that was light enough to have come from a bottle of peroxide—served to give her the appearance of a west-coast surf bunny, rather than a woman who had spent most of her adult life teaching elementary children their ABCs. “
No wonder Robert enjoyed flirting with her. It must have put a little zing in his life,
” I thought to myself. In addition to Ms. Johnson’s retirement, she also had a fortune-telling business on the side. 

“Hello, Ms. Johnson,” Ethan replied. “We wanted to inform you of some really sad news. Robert died over the weekend.”

“What?” Her smile disappeared. “Robert?”

We are so, so sorry,” Ethan said with a concerned expression.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and I suddenly felt guilty for bringing such shocking news. She was silent for a moment as she tried to come to terms with the death of her friend. I was about to say something, anything, when she broke the silence. “What, what happened, Hun?” She pulled a cloth out of a pocket and wiped at her eyes. It left a small smear in her mascara. If this woman were the killer, I would eat my sun hat.

“We think that he was poisoned. We are still investigating though,” Ethan responded.

Her response was almost inaudible. “Murder.” She blinked several times, and continued. “M-murder, you think? Why? Why would anyone do such a thing? I mean, Robert? He was the kindest man I’ve ever known. Who would want to hurt Robert?” The tears started flowing, leaving dark streaks of ruined mascara down her suntanned cheeks. The cloth that she was using became stained with the makeup when she wiped her face.

I pulled a tissue out and moved to help her, as Ethan continued, “That is why we are here. To ask you a few questions to see if you know anything and where you were the night of his death.”

I dabbed at the mess on the poor woman’s face, adding, “We understand that you were with Robert on the day of his death. You both were seen staining wood on your boat.”

She must’ve detected something in my voice, or maybe my expression, because she gave a wan smile and said, “It’s not what you think, Hun. Remember, my monthly slip rent was due? So I came down to pay.”

“Ah. Yeah,” I said. I handed her a new tissue and let her continue the cleanup. She seemed to be calming down a little.

She blew her nose, and continued, “Last month when I was down, I told Robert that I was thinking of fixing up my boat and possibly selling her. I don’t use it that much. So Robert said he could help me the next time I came down. He said he already had some stain and we could get started right away.”

“Were you two an item?” I blurted.

Ethan choked and started coughing, and I felt the skin of my face warm as I blushed. “I’m sorry. I mean—“

Ms. Johnson waved her hand, and smiled. “Don’t worry, Hun. I understand. To answer your question, though: No, Hun, we had a fling many moons ago in college. For maybe 3 months or so, but that was it. We kept in touch over the years.”

“Did Carol know?” I asked.

“Hun, she knew about our past relationship. Robert assured Carol that nothin’ was going on now. We all became friends over the years and Carol even suggested me getting a sailboat and docking it at the marina. She knew I enjoyed the outdoors.” 

“Did you think she could have been jealous? Of you and Robert’s closeness?” Ethan asked.

“Not that I’m aware of, Hun. Carol never said anything to me. She kept it hidden if she was.”

“Where did you go after you two were done working on your boat?” Ethan asked.

“Hun, he had a few drinks in my boat cabin and he steamed up some crab legs on my camp stove at about 6pm. At around 7, Robert said he was going to Guz’s and then go and get a drink or two at the Purple Monkey Tiki Bar. That’s when I left the marina and headed back home. You can talk with my neighbor a mile down the road about my whereabouts. She walks her dog past my place every evening so she would see my car in the driveway and that my lights were on last night.”

“Also, where did you throw the empty bottles of teak oil when you were done,” Ethan asked as he took his pen from pocket.

“Robert walked them up to the garbage can, Hun. You know, the one right before you enter the docks?”

“Thanks Ms. Johnson,” Ethan said as he jotted this down in his notebook.

“You’re welcome, Hun, you can call me Bev if you like.”

“Well thank you for your time, Bev,” Ethan concluded and started walking away.

“Wait, before y’all head back, how about a nice cup of tea and I’ll read you a quick fortune?” Ms. Johnson said enthusiastically.

“Sure, why not?” we replied in unison.

She led us through a doorway into another room. The walls were decorated with all manner of items that would be expected in a room devoted to fortune telling. On a shelf, I noticed what could only be a large crystal ball covered with a silk cloth. Crowding the shelves above and below, were numerous books dealing with astrology, dream interpretation, tarot, and even a large book claiming to describe how to communicate with spirits. In the center of the room was a circular table covered with a bright red tablecloth. Ethan and I sat at the table and Bev served us tea before taking her seat in an ornate chair that could put some king’s thrones to shame. Once we were all settled, Bev took Ethan’s hand in her own, saying, “Hun, let’s start with you.”

She turned Ethan’s hand over and proceeded to scrutinize the lines on his palm, all while murmuring impressive-sounding and mysterious words. Her fingers lazily traced along his lifeline, her long, painted nail tickling Ethan. I felt a twinge of irritation as I watched the woman handle my companion. She was obviously enjoying it.

“What do you see?” I interrupted.

Bev kept a firm grip on Ethan’s hand and looked up at me, and smiled. “I get a sense that love is in the air for you, Ethan. Soon. You’ll rekindle a relationship with someone from your past.”

Ethan tried to pull his hand away from her grip, but she was having none of that. Ethan gave in and let her retain possession of his hand.

“Whooaah. Love from the past,” he said, putting on a show of serious thought. “Who could it be?” His thoughtful look transformed into a grimace. “Oh, no. Not my ex. Shoot me now.” He laughed.

Ms. Johnson continued, “Now, now, Hun. It might be someone new. I can’t believe a good-lookin’ man like y’self doesn’t have more than one woman in his past. Right?”

“Yessss,” he replied. His eyes took on a distant look. “ Hey. Maybe Jessica. You know. Jessica Bradford. She was back in town last week. I caught a glimpse of her as she was leaving the Post Office. She sure looked real good.”

Jessica Bradford went to our high school and was on the pom-pom squad. She was very popular, pretty, and had the most beautiful big blue eyes. I haven’t seen her for 20 years since she moved to California to give acting a try but I am sure she’s still as stunning as ever.

Ethan was all dreamy eyed, thinking of Jessica. I felt another twinge of irritation, thinking, “
Sure, get all excited over a woman that you haven’t seen in decades. Men can be so infuriating sometimes.”
As soon as I thought it, I wondered,
“Why am I so worked up? I mean, it’s his life, right? No matter what woman shows up, our friendship will still be there. Because, that is all we are. Friends. Right?”

My thoughts were interrupted when Bev finally released Ethan’s hand and turned to me. “Your turn, Hun. Give me your palms.” She took my hand and perused my palm. She was nowhere near as thorough as she was with Ethan, quickly coming to a decision regarding my fate. “I sense trouble for you.” 

“
Oh blah blah blah
”, I was thinking to myself, “
This is a bunch of bunk.
”

I played along, though. “What type of danger, Bev?”

“Hun, I sense you have to escape from some sort of danger and someone has to rescue you.”

I jokingly replied, “Well, in that case I better make sure Ethan is by my side at all times, then.”

“You do that, Hun,” Ms. Johnson said with a solemn expression.

It was sort of eerie as we left her place. “Ethan, What was that remark at the end? “
You do that, Hun.”

“Come on, Maddie, it’s just a bunch of crock. You know that. Did you ever hear about the fortune-teller from Miami that scammed a young woman out of $30,000. The young woman went to her and the fortune-teller apparently promised her she could cleanse her from a curse. It was just a scheme to rip-off the young woman.”

“No, I didn’t hear about that but I thought the same thing too—that it’s just a bunch of bunk that she was rattling off. She still seemed a little creepy like maybe she is the one that murdered Robert, and we stumbled upon her trail. That she is going to kidnap and lock me up somewhere to die. And she told me the fortune story to scare me off so I would stop investigating around the marina,” all said in one breath.

“Whoahhh, slow down, Maddie. You have an overactive imagination or you’ve been watching too many horror movies.” He replied, softening his remark with a smile.

“Yeah, you’re not the first to tell me that.” I mentioned one last thing, “Ms. Johnson seemed like she did not know anything happened to Robert or she was just a good actor with fake tears and sniffles.”

“Maddie, let’s not jump to any conclusions right now,” Ethan said as his phone started ringing. He answered and listened. He replied, “Oh, really. Will be back shortly. Bye.” He hung up.  

Ethan looked at me and said, “Guess what? Apparently, Carol took out a life insurance policy on Robert for half a million dollars a year ago.”

“Oh, really? I kind of figured something was up since a package from a life insurance company came for her today.”

We were going to take a quick jaunt to visit Ms. Johnson’s neighbor and ask her a few questions, but instead Ethan quickly turned the car around and headed South to the police department to follow up on his new lead. We drove home which seemed forever, each engrossed in our own thoughts.

In the morning, I woke up before any self-respecting rooster even
thought
of waking up. I crammed a breakfast down my throat and hurriedly got dressed. I arrived at a quarter after five, only a few minutes late.

“There she is!” shouted Croc. “I told you she’d be here in no time.”

“She’s still late,” grumbled Gregg.

The two men were standing by their boat, which was tied up to the day dock. The gear was loaded with all the gear, and I felt guilty for making them wait for me. I hurried down the dock and Croc helped me aboard.

“Thanks, Croc, for letting me tag along with you and Gregg. I’m excited about this trip; I’ve never been stone crabbing before.”

“Sure. It’s gonna be fun.” Croc replied, with a smile that went almost from ear to ear.

“Hey, Maddie,” Gregg said as he climbed aboard. “Where’s your PFD?”

“Oh, darnit!”
I thought. In my hurry, I had forgotten my life preserver.

Gregg grunted something unintelligible.

Croc dug into a locker and withdrew a ratty life preserver that was bright orange at some point in the distant past. He tossed it too me. “Here ya go, Maddie. Can’t have one of th’crew drownin’ on their first trip.” The vest hit me in the face and I was almost overwhelmed by the odor of rancid fish, motor oil, and mildew. Croc and Gregg both laughed at the look on my face as I donned the bulky flotation device.

“Not exactly a fashion statement, is it?” I complained. The vest worn by the two of them were similar to the one I had left behind. Blue and black, with a zipper in the front that allows you to wear it like a vest, and not like some bloated necktie. Well, at least it should keep me afloat, if needed.

I almost needed my life preserver immediately, since Gregg gunned the motor and turned the wheel, causing the boat to tip. Gregg grinned when I glared at him.

At my feet were several buckets holding fish, both whole carcasses as well as severed heads. The odor almost overpowered the smell of my PFD—almost.

Croc noticed what I was looking at. “That’s bait, Maddie. It’s some mullet that Gregg catched yesterday, along with some fish heads that we saved from a fishin’ trip.”

“So that’s what you use, huh?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes we use pig’s feet. Especially if the water’s warmer. Pig’s feet got stayin’ power, if y’know what I mean.”

I didn’t, but didn’t bother asking. I’ve always seen the pink, hooved items in the freezer aisle at the local Sav-a-Lot, but could not imagine ever eating the things.

Gregg had been traveling very slowly while we were still close to the marina. As we exited the area of still water protected by the jetties, he accelerated, causing the boat to bounce crazily on the waves before it got up on plane, and things smoothed out—a little. We still pounded into each wave as he headed away from land, into the harbor.

A spray of cold water blew into my face, courtesy of a particularly savage bump and the brisk wind. Croc hollered over the sound of the motor and the crashing waves, “Hey, did ya check the forecast?” I was amazed that he could move around the rocking boat as if it were calmly sitting at anchor. His knees bent at precisely the right moment to negate the heaving of the deck.

Gregg turned on the marine radio before responding. “Yah, it says 56 for a couple of hours. 60’s, then 72 this afternoon. Partly cloudy.” He spun the wheel to avoid a small float that was attached to a crab pot that belonged to some other crabber. “Winds supposed to be 10 to 13 knots all day.”

“Gonna be a little bumpy ride, today, then,” Croc replied.

“Yep.”

I was holding onto the gunwale with one hand and my sunhat with the other. I never went out on the water without my broad-brimmed hat. If I did, I would end up looking like a boiled lobster dinner. I inherited my skin from my mother’s side. Unfortunately, a side that had very fair, easily-burned skin. It was not the best skin for a Florida girl to have, but what can you do?

“Maddie, you think this is bad, you shoulda been with us last trip.” He paused to watch a pair of dolphins play in our wake before continuing. “The wind was 15 knots, with gusts up to 20. Seas were a good 5 feet. The boat was rockin’ and buckin’ like you ain’t never wanna see.” He chuckled at the memory. “This ain’t nothin’ but a little breeze.”

I tightened the strap on my life preserver. “I hope I don’t get seasick.”

“Yep,” they replied in unison.

Gregg added, “You get sick, you make sure ya send it over the side. I don’t want to be stompin’ around in last night’s dinner.”

“Don’t worry, Gregg,” I replied. “If I have to puke, I’ll make sure it’s on you. It can’t smell any worse than this life vest.”

We all laughed.

“Tides’re comin’ in. That should be good for catchin’ the little critters. They’re always looking for somethin’ to eat,”

The sky was just starting to turn pink when we left the dock, and I was blinded by the glare of the just-rising sun when Gregg turned the boat to the east. At least with our new direction, the boat wasn’t hammering against the waves as hard. Gregg took the opportunity to explain that it was against the law to pull traps out of the water at night. That was why we had to wait until almost sunrise before we departed. I didn’t mind, the breeze was cold enough that I was eagerly awaiting the sun. It didn’t take us long before we approaching the first of Gregg and Croc’s crab traps.

We approached a small, round float, maybe 6 inches or so in diameter. Gregg pulled up alongside the float, while Croc snagged the line to which it was attached with a boathook. He hauled on the line, and after about 8 feet of line, a square box encrusted with barnacles and covered in muddy sea grass surfaced. Croc hoisted the box up, and I saw that it was filled with a dozen or so crabs and fish.

“Watch your fingers, Maddie,” he said as he opened the lid to the trap. “These guys can take off a finger. Look at the claws on this guy!” Moving so fast that his hand was a blur, he snatched something out of the wriggling mass of sea life. It was a crab with claws that I had—up to this point in my life—only seen on a dinner plate just before I cracked them open and dipped them in butter. The claws snapped on empty air as the little crustacean futilely tried to reach the man holding it captive.

“Y’gotta hold ‘em just right, or you’ll regret it. Just ask Gregg.”

Gregg laughed. “You know it! I almost lost my thumb a while back. Had to get stitches and everything.” He grinned. “That’s why I drive the boat and let this idiot do pickin’.”

Croc deftly grabbed a claw and removed it with a slight twist. “Gotta be careful you take the claw off right. Do it wrong, you just killed y’self a crab. Do it right, they just grow another one so’s we can take it next year. He dropped the claw into one of the orange Home Depot buckets on the deck. “The orange bucket’s for claws, Maddie. The blue bucket’s for crabs we aren’t sure whether they’re big enough.” He tossed the crab—minus one claw—over the side, back into the harbor.

“You just take a claw, not the whole crab?” I asked. When it came to stone crabs, I had never eaten anything but claws, but I never really thought about where the rest of the crab went.

“There’s not much meat on one ‘cept the claws,” Croc informed me as he snatched another crab from the trap. He held it up for my perusal. “Take a look at this one here. See that orange goop on its belly?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

“That’s its eggs. Shame, too, because it was a nice size one.” He gently tossed it over the side, to freedom.

“You can’t keep females?”

“Females you can keep. It’s just the egg-bearing ones you can’t keep.” He snatched another crab while he continued with his lecture. “Ya can’t take the claws off’n egg-bearing females, and ya can’t take any claws less than 2 and 3 quarters of an inch. Good way to lose your license, keeping claws you ain’t supposed to harvest.”

“And jail time,” added Gregg.

“That too,” agreed Croc.

“That’s what started all the hollerin’ with Clive,” Croc said.

Gregg grunted in disgust. “Fool would have me getting’ arrested and losin’ my boat. I mean, I’m sorry for speakin’ ill of the dead, but I’m not gonn lose everythin’ just so he can make a few extra bucks. Illegal bucks.”

“What?” I asked. “You mean Robert Clive?”

Croc shook his head slowly. “Yeah. Clive was workin’ with us this season. Said he needed to make some extra cash. So we let ‘im come with us. I mean, he’s a nice guy and all.”

“Dang fool,” grumbled Gregg.

“Well, yeah. But still nice and all.” Croc paused to toss a claw into the orange bucket. “Things were goin’ along nice for awhile—“

“Until the dang fool wanted to keep everything. Undersize, egg-bearin’. You name it. Lose my boat, doin’ stuff like that. Dang Fool.”

“Don’t be speakin’ so harsh of the dead and all, Gregg,” Croc said. “He must’ve been havin’ some problems we don’t know nothin’ about.” He smiled at me. “Anyway, Gregg and him had themselves a big blowout, and Gregg wouldn’t let him go out with us no more.

“Kicked ‘im off,” Gregg boasted. “Lucky I didn’t do worse. Dang fool. Make me lose my boat. Took both claws, too. Idiot.”

Croc smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s legal and all, but we always like to only take the one claw. Helps to keep the population healthy. Gotta have at least one claw to fight off predators.”

I nodded. “But Robert took both?”

“Yep. Sure did,” Croc hooked a thumb at Gregg. “Gregg here didn’t care for it.”

“I don’t care for the way you’re jabberin’ and not pullin’,” Gregg complained. “At this rate, it’ll be dark b’fore we get back.”

Croc winked at me. “Aye-aye, Cap’n.” He rebaited the trap with a fish head and tossed the trap back over the side. “Ready. Let’s go.”

We continued to pull traps and crab claws for several hours. I got the hang of it after awhile. I have all my fingers, don’t I? The more I did the tiring work, the more I was impressed with Croc’s speed and efficiency. Also impressive was the skill with which Gregg could handle his boat, pulling up to the traps at just the right speed and angle to make Croc’s job easier. Watching them, it was obvious they had been doing this for so long that they were a finely tuned team, always knowing just what the other was about to do. Like I said, it was impressive. 

“Hey Maddie, look at this,” Croc said, as he was harvesting a crab. This one is male.” He flipped it over on its back and pointed to a narrow tower on its abdomen.” He lifted another crab, showing its underbelly. “This one’s a female. See how wide the abdomen is?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied. “I see. But there’s no eggs. We can take the claw?

“Well, it’s a little close. Put it in the blue bucket and we’ll measure it in a bit.” He tossed the crab into the blue bucket.

I was exhausted by the time we were done and heading back. As we were enjoying the scenery on the way back, a couple of dolphins frolicking in the waters swam under our boat and jumped behind us, playing in the wake of our boat. As we approached the marina and docked the boat, I could feel a little tingling and burning on my face. My fair skin had suffered from such a long day on the water, even if I was wearing my sunhat. I would probably have some rosy red cheeks from the day’s outing but it is nice to come away with a little color. I thanked Gregg and Croc and told them I appreciated and the enjoyed the opportunity to see what real Stone Crabbers do.