Murder At Tropical Cove Marina (Cozy Mystery) (Sea Cozy Mysteries Book 1)
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Authors: Crystal Winters
Murder at Tropical Cove Marina
(Sea Cozy Mystery Series); Book 1
By
Crystal Winters
Copyright 2015
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, brands. Or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, whole or in part, without the permission, in writing, from the author.
This book is set on the West Coast of Florida. It is great book for a relaxing afternoon read. This cozy mystery is family friendly--no foul language, no blood, and no sex. Don’t Miss Out on the Special Florida Recipe at the End of This Book.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
“
Yet another day in Paradise,
” I was thinking again, as I strolled to the office of
Tropical Cove Marina, humming and singing the lyrics to my favorite tune “
Margaritaville
.” “
Nibbling on sponge cake, watching the sun bake……..Wasting away in Margaritaville.
”
“You just can’t beat these Florida Winters,” I said out loud to myself as I continued humming.
I was off in my own world but quickly snapped out of it when I almost ran into an ambulance pulled up alongside the marina. As I approached the office, I frantically looked out over the choppy waters and recalled my earlier thought and mumbled to myself “
Or maybe not another day in Paradise.
”
I knew something was seriously wrong when I saw a knot of police uniforms on the dock surrounded by an excited crowd. Even the boats cruising by had stopped to look, like rubberneckers during a traffic accident. Whatever was going on had caused a major backup for boaters that wanted to use the marina’s boat launch and day dock.
I tossed my bags next to the door of the marina office and hurried over the little wooden bridge that led to the docks. While I ran, I held onto my black sunhat so that it wouldn’t blow off and fall into the water. As I went, my mind started racing “D
id someone get hurt, sick, fall overboard? What could it be?
” As I approached the scene, Mr.
Guzmán
’s large motor yacht was blocking my view so I was not sure if the problem was at Robert and Carol’s 22 ft Sirius Sailboat or Ms. Johnson’s 24ft Hunter.
As I got closer, I pushed my way through the crowd and said, “Please excuse me I need to get through.” I slowly made headway through the milling crowd until I was blocked by a thick, tanned arm.
“Sorry Ma’am. You can’t go any closer. There’s a police investigation in progress.” I looked up to see that the arm was connected to a young man dressed in the uniform of the Tropical Cove Police Department. The baby-faced kid looked much too young to be a police officer. You know you’re getting old when people like police, doctors, and such start to look like they’re children.
“But,” I protested. “I’m the owner here. What’s going on? What happened?”
The officer frowned, and I was hit with a twinge of jealousy when his face barely managed to show a frown line. I used to be that young, once. “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he replied, while still keeping his arm positioned as a barricade to keep me from moving closer to the action.
“Hey! Hey, Maddie!” a voice called.
I looked over toward the day dock and saw Shawn Hutton waving, trying to get my attention. “What all’s goin’ on?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. They won’t let me see.” I turned back to the human obstacle in my path. “Now look. I’m—“
“Let her through, Jim. She’s the owner of the marina.” It was Ethan Matthews, an investigator with the police department and a friend of mine.
Jim lowered his arm. “But I thought a Dustin Ritchfield owned the marina.”
Ethan smiled at me, showing teeth that would look at home on a Hollywood red carpet. Like it always does when he smiles at me, my heart skipped a beat or two.
“Yeah, well,” Ethan drawled in a voice that made you just want to melt. “I guess he is the owner, officially. But Miss Madilyn here is the one in charge, so let her on through.” I made my way to Ethan, and the young officer resumed trying to corral the gawking crowd.
“Thanks, Ethan. What’s going on? Why are all these people here? Why are
you
here?”
“Hey, Maddie.” Ethan ran his hand through his hair. I’ve known him long enough to know that he does this whenever he’s nervous. “Is Dusty in the office yet?”
“My father? No. He’s on a camping trip with some friends. Why do you—what’s going on?”
He ran his hand through his hair once more. “Could you give him a call?”
I squared my hips and glared up at him. “Ethan, what happened?”
Ethan has known me long enough to know that when he hears that tone that I was just about out of patience. He gave in.
“You know Robert Clive?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied. “He comes every year. Him and his wife.”
Ethan laid a hand on my shoulder. “Well, he’s dead. He—“
“Dead? Wait. What?”
Ethan continued, “He was found dead on his boat less than half an hour ago.”
My knees felt weak. Maybe I swayed a little, because Ethan dropped his other hand to my other shoulder, as if to keep me from toppling over.
“What…what happened?” I stammered. “I mean, what—“
“Listen, Maddie.” Ethan gave me a tiny shake. Just enough to get my brain back in gear. “Could you please call Dusty? Now?”
I got a grip on my thoughts, and pulled out my cell phone. “Got it. Dialing now.” As the phone was ringing I caught a glimpse of Robert. He was lying on his back in the cockpit of his sailboat, one spindly leg up on the seat and the other stretched along the deck. His skin was blue-gray, so different than the ruddy tan that I was used to seeing. His blue-and-red checkered shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, showing his hairy chest and chubby beer-belly to full advantage. The grizzled hair of his chest was wet with a tan, foamy liquid, which looked, from where I was standing, to be vomit. He was also wearing his light tan cargo shorts which I noticed had several dark spots on them which looked to be paint or stain of some sort. Still perched on his head was the big straw hat that he was fond of wearing. It was his favorite hat for sailing because it would not blow off on windy days due to the string that ran under his chin. The string was still tied under his chin, only now it was encrusted with drying vomit. Robert was approximately mid 60’s and a Snowbird from Canada. He and his wife, Carol, would come down in October and stay through March. That way they could avoid the brutal winters of Canada and the hot, sweaty, and humid Florida Summers. They could have the best of both worlds. “
Poor Robert,”
I thought. He was just so limp, lifeless, so much opposite of his bubbly, charming, and friendly personality.
I tore my eyes away from someone that I had considered a friend, and asked, “W-what happened. What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know, Maddie.” He scribbled something in a small notebook. “We need to investigate further.”
“I know, but—“
Please, Maddie,” he interrupted. “That’s all I can really say for now. I’ll try to let you know the details as soon as I can.”
My call finally connected. “Dad. I—“
“
This is Dusty. Sorry I am unavailable right now, but please leave a message at the beep
.”
Argh. “
Why is he not picking up
?” I thought.
Dustin Ritchfield is my father, and sometime during the decades he worked for UPS he acquired the nickname Dusty. He retired 10 years ago, ready to live a life of leisure, but he was never one of those old codgers that could sit around all day watching the cable news networks and stuffing his face with potato chips. He was already getting antsy before my mother passed away, and after she died he decided to invest in Tropical Cove Marina. That was ten years ago, and ever since then he has been enjoying his position as Dockmaster and owner of the marina. The boating community has always been a very close-knit and friendly group, and has provided my father with a wonderful social outlet for him.
I’ve worked as his assistant and all around gopher, allowing him to go fishing and take vacations with his buddies. I’ve always enjoyed working here. Until today, that is.
“Well, he didn’t pick up,” I declared. “I left him a message, so I hope he calls back soon. I hope he’s O.K. Usually he picks up right away.”
“Where’s he camping?”
“He went kayaking and camping down in the Everglades.”
Ethan smiled. “He probably just has poor cell phone reception. I know when I’ve been down there, there’s some spots I couldn’t get a signal if my life depended on it.” He gave my arm a squeeze.
I nodded. “You’re probably right.” I looked at the body of my friend. My sight blurred a little as tears welled up in them. I wiped my eyes and asked, “What do I do now?”
“Well, right now you might as well let us take care of Robert. Why don’t you go and lie down and relax.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t think I’ll be able to relax right now. I’ll just go up to the office and get caught up on some paperwork. I need to do something to keep my mind occupied. My dad should call back fairly soon. Catch me up with the details later, alright?”
“Sure thing. Oh hey, Maddie. Before you go, how about dinner tonight at the Crab House and I’ll catch you up to date then?” He grinned.
“Sounds like a date,” I joked.
“Great. I’ll meet you at your office around five-ish or so,” Ethan responded.
“Yep. See ya,” as I pushed my way through the crowd.
Ethan Matthews and I have been friends for over 27 years. We first met in a Calculus class our senior year of high school. He was having trouble with the subject and the teacher chose me because of my good grades to tutor him. I had a crush on him but he did not even know I existed. He was a pitcher on our school baseball team and he was dating Lacey Peters, a gorgeous blonde cheerleader that the entire male half of the student body lusted after. I, on the other hand, wore glasses, had a bit of a problem with acne, and was on the chubby side. Top that off with me being a bit of geek and bookworm. I was involved in band and yearbook activities. When I took on the challenge of tutoring him, I was incredibly nervous. It was just so awkward because he was so cute—well, hot, actually. To call him cute doesn’t do him justice. Every time our eyes would accidentally meet, my heart would flutter, and just being in the same room with him would make me start to perspire. But despite all the awkwardness, we eventually became close friends. He would share a lot of his feelings and relationship issues with me. We continued to stay close friends all these years through thick and thin. Just this past year, he went through a messy divorce and his high school sweetheart ran off with another man. He was devastated and still heartbroken.
When I got back to the office, I brewed myself some tea and settled down to pay some of the marina’s bills and analyzed the budget for the upcoming season. I had reduced the pile of paperwork to one last sheet, and was wondering what I would do to keep myself occupied when I heard someone call, “Madilyn Autumn! You in here?” I knew it was my father, since he is the only one that uses my full name. I’m named after my great grandmother Madilyn Ann Ritchfield. Instead of Ann, they decided to go with Autumn since I was born in October.
“In the office, Dad.”
He entered the room and hung his fishing rod in its rack. “I got your message and got back as soon as I could. What happened while I was gone? I take a weekend off and tragedy strikes.” He sniffed. “Tea smells good. Got any more?”
“Sure. Help yourself.”
“You’re not gonna get it for me?” He let out a mournful sigh. “What ever happened to the days when a daughter would respectfully serve her decrepit old father tea? And smile while doing it?”
“I guess they disappeared about the same time the decrepit old father started leaving all the paperwork for his sweet respectful daughter to worry about.”
I could tell that his cheerful orneriness was all a front. He was deeply saddened by the loss of his friend, but he was too stubborn to show it.
I sipped my tea. “Anyway, glad you got back safely. So you know what happened?”
My father picked up one of the papers off the ‘finished’ pile and squinted at it. “Yeah, Jim told me most of it on the way in. How’d it happen?”
I tugged the paper out of his grasp and returned it to its proper place. If I didn’t keep an eye on him, my father was capable of creating an impossible mess out of our files in the blink of an eye. “I don’t know, yet. All I know is that they found Robert dead on his boat this morning. That’s all Ethan could tell me, right now. I should find out more tonight. Ethan asked me to get a bite to eat at the Crab House later.”
“That sounds nice, dear.” He bent over and massaged his knee. “My knees and hip are hurtin’, but I think I’ll grab my old man’s cane and waddle down to docks to have a chat with Ethan.” Daddy thought Ethan was a good honest man and wished someday that maybe we would become an item. I told him several times to not play matchmaker. If it happens it happens. But I had no plans for it and neither did Ethan.
I had just finished up the last of my paperwork when the door slammed open, startling me so I almost spilled tea all over my tidy stacks of paper. It was Carol Clive, and she was weeping and sobbing, the tears streaming from her reddened eyes leaving little tracks in her makeup. She was almost hysterical and at first I couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. Between her moans and sobs I did get a few scattered words, such as ‘murder’, ‘suspect’, and ‘can’t leave’. I ushered her into the boater’s day room, where we have a few comfortable easy chairs, along with an old brownish-green sofa that I’ve been struggling to get my father to part with for ages. I sat her down on the sofa and handed her a handful of tissues so she could clean herself up a bit. She sniffled and sobbed, fumbling around in her purse until she found a medicine bottle. She popped two Xanax and washed them down with the cup of water I gave to her. After that I just held onto her as she clung to me, crying into my shoulder. By the time the Xanax did its job and she started to calm down, my blouse was saturated with her tears.
When she was able to speak coherently, she said, “I just found out the police suspect either suicide or suspect foul play. For the Love of God, I can’t believe anyone would want to murder Robert, and I am certain he would never commit such a sin as to take his own life. The police want to question everyone that has been in close proximity with him for the last several weeks and being that I’m his wife, they want to question his whereabouts and my alibi of where I was last night. They don’t want me to leave the area until they further investigate his death.” She sniffed a little as she wiped tears from her eyes, “God rest his soul but I need to get back to my family and home to plan Robert’s funeral arrangements and such. Maddie, I didn’t kill Robert. As the Lord told Moses on the mountain:
Thou Shalt Not Kill
. I loved Robert with all my heart. We were soul-mates, someday I’ll see him in Heaven along with Jesus. I’m not sure what I am going to do that he is gone. The Lord took him too soon. Maddie, For the Love of God, I did not have anything to do with this. You know that, right?”
“Yes Carol, of course you had nothing to do with it. As soon as the police have talked to you, you’ll be alright.” I would never tell her otherwise until there was proof, but she certainly doesn’t seem like a criminal mastermind. She’s always quoting bible verses and I doubt if she’s missed a day of church in her life.
“God be with you, Maddie. Thank you for listenin’. You’re such a sweetheart. I’m goin’ to lay down and rest on the couch and then take a shower later.”
“That’s a good idea. Listen, if you need anything or need to talk to someone, Carol, I’m here to listen. I’ll be out front at my desk for another hour or so.”
“Thanks. See…ya...” her voice trailed off as she drifted off to sleep on the sofa.