Death of a Hot Chick (6 page)

Finally Wes turned. “Cyd, you’re gonna keep
after me, right?” At my nod, he shrugged. “You know that depends.
What’s wrong with her?”

“
The boat’s been sitting a while.
Probably needs a new fuel filter for starters. Maybe a lot
more.”

“
You’re asking for a complete tune-up,
right? I’m too busy now. After July. Maybe August. Or after lay-up
in October.”

“
Come on, Wes. You aren’t that
busy.”

“
Talk to me later. I don’t want to
work on that boat. Not just me, nobody wants to get on the wrong
side of Pop.”

“
Hey, you saw the title. It’s my boat
now. Pop has nothing to do with it. Didn’t you say he’s in
jail?”

“
Getting out,” Wes said and hollered
at his assistant. “Got a boat coming in. Move the Travelift to pull
her out.”

Wes walked off, but I kept up with
him. “If you did work on
Snapdragon
, how much?”

Wes turned back and named a figure that he
knew I couldn’t afford. Not without several weeks of work, and
probably more than he’d charge for any other boat as well. But I
needed those repairs. “Okay, put me on the schedule.”

Wes kept stonewalling me, claiming
vacations, too much work, he even offered to tow
Snapdragon
out of the marina for
free.

“
Oh, yeah. That will make Pop happy.”
I backed off, headed toward my slip, then turned suddenly. “Why are
you afraid of a guy named Pop? That’s certainly not a killer
name.”

Instead of answering, Wes asked a
question. “Ever wonder why Pop had a boat named
Snapdragon
?”

“
It’s a flower. I mean, if a guy names
a boat after a flower, he’s nobody to fear. Right?”

“
Snap, Crackle, Pop.” Wes turned,
aimed at his left arm with a quick karate chop, then
left.

“
What’s that supposed to mean? He’s
the muscle, a killer? He hits people and they go ‘pop?’”

Wes grinned, but he didn’t answer, which
sent a gruesome message.

“
What am I going to do? Sit at anchor
outside Smith Harbor Marina? Will Pop like that any
better?”

Wes glowered, then asked, “What’s
today?”

“
The twenty-first. And a
Friday.”

“
Six o’clock, tomorrow morning. And
you’re the gofer.”

At last! We cut a deal. Five dollars down
and pay whatever I could with two percent interest a month. Way too
much, but still, an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“
Keep me in mind for any job that
comes up,” I added, although that was unlikely to
happen.

But the repairs would. And I’d be able to
pay him—eventually.

~
~

So why was Kaye sitting on the deck
box when I returned to
Snapdragon
?

“
You forgot, didn’t you,” she
said.

“
Evidently. What did I
forget?”

“
The charity group luncheon. Remember?
Last week you promised to attend. I’m a bit early, so there is
plenty of time for you to change. I’d say, clean slacks and shirt.
It is a working luncheon and you will be a true asset to the group
with your boating experience.”

To me, charity group equals work without
pay. “I’ll pass. I need to find a job to earn money, not give away
freebies.”

“
Did I mention the free lunch? We are
encouraged to bring those with any knowledge or interest in boats.
I promise, no strong-arm recruitment.”

“
Um....”

“
The lunch is at the
Breakwater.”

I didn’t need to check my cupboard. Free
lunch always sounded good. Especially at Smith Harbor’s top
restaurant.

~
~

When we walked into the private dining room
at the Breakwater set up with a head table and several smaller
tables, a tall, thin woman with half-glasses sliding down her nose
pounced. “Kaye!” she said in a sharp voice. “Oh, goodie. You
brought a friend.”

“
Vivian, this is my sister, Cyd,” Kaye
said. “Cyd, Vivian is one of our most enthusiastic
volunteers.”

“
Join me at my table over there,”
Vivian said with a nod of her head. “The new charity is getting
organized, so I’ve recruited a few boating specialists as well. For
input, you understand. The program is supposed to be presented
today, but I’m afraid the gentleman in charge won’t be here. His
daughter just died, you know.”

“
Yes, I heard.”

I glanced at Kaye who was studiously
ignoring me, so I asked, “Who is the man in charge?”

“
Why, Mr. Joline.”

Kaye waved at someone across the room, then
headed for a table. What could I do but follow?

Vivian took over the meeting. She stood at
the table we’d gone to and announced to the group, “Of course we
all know about the death of Nicole Joline last night. Although Mr.
Joline was to speak after lunch, he’ll be home with his wife. We
can still discuss his new charity. Anything we do now will take a
burden from Edward.”

Just as the group settled into chairs and
began dipping spoons into their soup, Mr. Joline walked through the
door with another man right behind him. The room stilled instantly.
He said, “Please, I know what you all want to say. But don’t.... I
can’t stand any more sympathy.” And, despite a bit of whispered
buzz, all complied with his request.

Since I was only the person who found the
body, and a complete nobody to this entire collection of
sympathizers, I sat quietly eating with the others as the noise
level gradually rose. Crab bisque, hot sirloin strips over a salad
of field greens, and dessert of chocolate mousse with a triangular
cookie stuck into it like a fallen kite.

Mr. Joline stood as I lifted my cookie and
licked the pudding from a pointy end. I hoped it would be quick,
but I feared the worst.

Actually, Mr. Joline looked pretty bad—older
even than the newspaper photos. Sallow. Worry lines creased his
face. Kaye had not been complimentary about him at all. He’d not
been a good parent, evidently. Still, bad parents can grieve too.
As he presented his plans, he had only to mention a wish and others
approved.

The whole idea sounded unreal to me. A
charity to provide boating experiences to severely handicapped
individuals. The group unanimously voted to approve organization of
the new charity called Total Living Futures. When Mr. Joline said,
“Our first goal is fund-raising,” they all agreed. With almost no
discussion, they voted to fund the charity and raise five million
by subscription, with nearly two hundred thousand pledged by the
volunteers.

They had thousands to throw at dreams? My
limit would be two bucks! I stared at Kaye who ignored me and
listened to the questions that finally came.

Vivian asked, “What do our contributors get
for their subscriptions? For instance, will we have plans to show
them? An outline of our purpose?”

Kaye chimed in with another question. “Do we
have boating organizations and marinas who will cooperate?”

“
Excellent questions. I’m so glad we
have dedicated people in this group. Kaye, will you choose one of
the others to work with you on contacting marinas and boaters?
Vivian, you will organize these people?” He hesitated slightly,
waiting for them to nod, then continued. “I have some ideas about
premiums and perks for our donors. Vivian, I’ll work directly with
you on that. Now, we’ll need a finance committee.”

After people volunteered for everything a
charity could possibly want, Mr. Joline said, “We put all our
efforts into the bottom line. We raise the first million, then we
start providing the service—as we continue to raise funds. It will
snow-ball in a place like Smith Harbor with all our proud boat
owners and our water access.”

Yeah, right. Could I see anyone volunteering
a small private boat and taking responsibility for non-boating
strangers, let alone handicapped people? The man was severely
deluded.

Nearly an hour after lunch was over, an
hour’s waste of my time, I might add, Edward Joline and his shadow
left, but not before he said, “My daughter’s boat will be the first
in the fleet. I’m sure she would have wanted that.”

Kaye looked at me with an “Oh, oh,” in her
eyes. She said, “He’s wrong about Nicole wanting him to have her
boat. She was one of my most brilliant students, but she and her
father didn’t agree on anything.” She started telling Vivian about
how different Nicole was from her parents, how shy she was when she
first started at Hanson Academy, and how she’d refused to leave
Smith Harbor to escape from her parents.

Which made Vivian say, “If you feel so
strongly, why did you volunteer to help? Obviously you’ve worked
with him before, yet you seem to dislike the man.”

“
Mr. Joline is charismatic. He is a
successful organizer,” Kaye said. “The charity does sound
different, and worthwhile.”

After we left, I told Kaye, “Boats are not
like horses.”

“
Now that qualifies as a cryptic
statement if I ever heard one.”

More professor-speak. “I mean, those
charities that provide horseback riding to the handicapped. I’ve
seen pictures. They have special lifts to get the riders up on the
horse, then others walk along on each side to keep the kid from
falling.”

“
I know that. Certainly the
handicapped can board a boat.”

“
Not unless you have a wheelchair
accessible gangplank like a huge tourist ship.” “A problem that can
be overcome, I’m sure. But there’s one thing Mr. Joline is wrong
about,” Kaye said. “Nicole gave you joint ownership of her boat.
Let’s see what we can do legally about that.”

“
It’s too late now to go to the Court
House. It closes at two.” Okay, I should have walked out of the
meeting and gone myself. Why didn’t I? Maybe because Mr. Joline is
too charismatic. But that idea of his, not remotely practical
without a lot of expensive alterations and some boaters who were
willing to accept the risk. At a guess, I’d say that would be
about—none.

~
~

“
Courage, little boat. Wes will fix
you,” I murmured when I returned to
Snapdragon
. It would cost me. And I’d probably
owe more after my courthouse visit on Monday. But I’d work ’til I
paid Wes off and in my spare time, discover who killed Nicole
Joline. Piece of cake.

I locked up and walked through the hole in
the fence between the two marinas. Everything at Bayside Marina was
bigger, better, cleaner, and more expensive. That meant more money
to hire extra help.

All my jobs came through Slim, so I asked
for him.

“
Not here today,” the manager said and
added with an enormous wink, “He’s got a girl friend.”

“
Well, good.” For him, anyway. “So, I
guess there’s no jobs today.” Bummer.

“
Yeah, there’s one. We got a rush job
right after he left. And he’s gone for the weekend.” The manager
eyed me. “Aren’t you the gal who helps him?”

“
That’s me.”

“
Okay, you can start the job. You’ll
still be working on it when he comes back. Plenty for both of
you.”

I worked the rest of the afternoon on
a job very much like the work Nicole hired me for on
Snapdragon—
only this one was a much
larger vessel, an older sailboat. All the teak was deeply ridged.
It needed a lot of sanding, with layers of teak oil each time.
Everything was teak—the deck and all the interior. At the end of
the day, I left Bayside Marina, tired, slightly richer, and happy.
But when I reached
Snapdragon
,
that mood changed.

Lizzie, the self-appointed marina mother
hen, sat on my deck box. “Who’s that guy I saw on your boat? I
don’t like his looks. Not at all.” She stood. “He wouldn’t tell me
his name.”

“
On my boat? On the deck, right? Not
inside.”

“
Coming out the door. That’s
inside.”

“
But the boat was locked.” I yanked at
the door. “It’s still locked. Did he take anything?”

“
Don’t know. I mean, when he said he
was a friend, I let it go. Just thought maybe you needed
better-looking friends.”

I twisted the combination dial. “What did he
look like?”

“
He was wearing a bunch of sloppy
clothes. You know, worn out stuff, hanging off his rear. Me, I’m
not up on junk like that. Except he had a hat, pulled down over
most of his face. I figure he didn’t want to be
recognized.”

“
Sloppy clothes, hat over the face.
Anything else? Tall maybe?” I asked, thinking of
Brandon.

“
Nah, shrimpy little guy. Big shoes
without shoe laces.”

Not Brandon. I beckoned for Lizzie to
follow me into
Snapdragon.
Hesitantly, I opened the door to the cabin and stepped back,
aghast at the sight. Drawers pulled out and emptied all over the
floor, cupboard doors ajar with the plastic dishes littering the
counter. Definitely not the way I’d left it. I edged toward the
curtain-covered entrance to the V-berth. It was even messier. I’d
made a little headway cleaning it out and left neat piles, in a
variety of categories. There were no piles left. Just one big
mess.

“
No way!” After all the work. “The guy
went through everything here.”