Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) (17 page)

When I opened the kitchen door to the condo, I expected to be run over by a dog with only one thing on his mind. We had been gone much longer than expected, and I had no idea what Gunner’s potty schedule was. I just hoped we weren’t already too late. The only thing that greeted us, however, was silence. I called out Gunner’s name, but no furry, tail-wagging dog appeared. He was gone. I was about to tell June when I saw that she was slipping her cell phone back into her pocket and had a confused look on her face.

“What is it, June? Was that the police? Are they going to help us now?”

“He’s gone. Michael is gone. I just called to check on him, and the receptionist at the hospital said that he just disappeared without being discharged. At least we know he’s awake.”

“What? And I’m sure you noticed Gunner is gone too. Michael must have found him here somehow. He was here Saturday night when we brought you home from the beach, and somehow I get the feeling he wouldn’t have much trouble getting inside again, even without a key. I hope, at least, that they are together.”

“Francie, maybe we should hold off calling the cops until we find out what happened to Michael and Gunner. I have a feeling somehow all this is connected.”

And so we got back to the business of pretending all was well for the time being. By the time June and I were both showered, dried, fluffed, and slightly buzzed, it was late afternoon. We hadn’t eaten anything since our grilled cheese sandwiches at the Cozy Cove. That seemed so long ago now, and I realized I was getting hungry.

“I can’t even think about cooking right now, and I really don’t want another pizza. Let’s grab a bite at the Tiki Table. Chicken and cheese quesadillas sound pretty good, and they make a marvelous margarita.”

“I could use a margarita. I think I’m dehydrated.” June sucked in her cheeks, puckered her lips, then made a loud smacking sound. “Let’s take the car. I’m running out of energy.”

I was glad to hear that from June. I wasn’t planning to admit my calves were burning, my shin was tender and sore, my right elbow was bruised and throbbing, and the kink in my neck was preventing me from turning my head to the left.

We made the five-minute trip across the resort property from the condo to the beach where the Tiki Table was located. The private, casual, outdoor-dining restaurant facing the lake was meant to provide the perfect spot for Beacon Pointe members to relax and wind down after a long day in the sun.

We reached the eatery just as the sun was making its way toward the horizon beyond the sandy beach. Diehard sunbathers, not wanting to miss out on the final rays, begrudgingly packed their beach bags.

June and I lucked out and scored a great table on the patio overlooking the breathtaking scenery.

“I could sit here forever and never get tired of this view.” I sighed contentedly as I stretched my tired legs out in front of me and kneaded the tight muscles in my shoulders with my fingertips.

“After the day we just had, they might just have to toss us a pillow before they lock up for the night. Unfortunately, my editor is expecting me to email him an update on the progress of my article. I don’t even know where to begin with that. Luckily, though, I uploaded the pictures from my camera that I took at Ruby’s before the fire to my tablet and cell phone, and the ones from Jewel of the Bay as well. The basic article won’t take long to put together. The ones I really needed though are gone. We could have probably gotten to the bottom of all this with the pictures I took at the warehouse.”

“Wow. That’s a tough one. It was supposed to be a lighthearted summer piece, but now you can’t ignore the fire and the attempted murders and the body in the attic. Do you think your editor will want to print that story?”

“It doesn’t fit with the personality of this particular magazine, but he has other publications that would want it. How can I write something like that though? We’re still in the middle of this whole mess. Who knows how it’s all going to end?”

“Well, I think we’re in over our heads. I was right before.  We need to let the professionals handle the crime-solving investigations from here on.”

June nodded in agreement, lifted her weary hand, and wiggled her graceful fingers in the direction of a waitress who scurried by, balancing a tray of drinks at shoulder level while avoiding collisions with co-workers, patrons, and children running back and forth between the beach, their parents, and French fries.

When the sure-footed young woman made it back to our table, she offered us menus and asked for our drink orders.

“I think I’ll pass on margaritas for now. What do you think, June? Do you want to split a bottle of Pinot Noir instead?”

“That sounds good to me. Let’s go with it.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks, ladies.”

While we waited for our wine to arrive, I checked out the menu, and June scrolled through the photos on her phone.

“Hmm, this is interesting. Look, Francie.” She pinched her fingers on the center of a picture then spread them outward to enlarge the image. “What does this look like to you?”

“It looks like the inside of Ruby’s store. What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Look closer Francie. There. The window. What is that outside the back window?”

I took June’s phone from her and held it right up to my face focusing on the window. “It’s a boat trailer. So what? There’s nothing unusual about that.”

“Except it’s not a boat. It’s a Jet Ski. A black Jet Ski.”

“Yes, I see it, but that doesn’t prove a thing. We are on an island, and every third person owns a Jet Ski or a speed boat.”

“I’m just saying. That’s all. Oh screw it. Let’s share the ‘Mamma Mia’s Dish of Love.’”

How could I refuse?

The wine arrived, accompanied by two stemless wine glasses etched with the restaurant logo. June placed our food order for us, and after the waitress walked off, she raised her glass and offered a toast.

“Well, here’s to surviving the day,” she said with the smallest hint of sarcasm in her voice. We clinked glasses and sipped.

We were on our second glass when the overflowing platter of cheeses, fruits, Italian bread and olives was placed on the center of the table, taking up almost all of the available space. I reached for a Kalamata olive and a strawberry; June chose a healthy hunk of bread, smeared it with butter, and added a slab of cheese for good measure.

“Oh what the heck. Pass the bread please.”

After enjoying the comfort food for a while, it was time to bring up the topic that was on both of our minds.

“Okay, June, now we can talk. I still haven’t heard from Hamm, and frankly, I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that everything is fine. Even though my phone is probably a pile of “i-Ashes” by now, he still knows how to get a hold of me. I mean, he could call the marina office, leave a message on the condo machine, or he could even break down and call your cell phone for goodness sake. I just know something’s wrong.”

“I know. This is highly unusual behavior for the Egg. You have to admit, though, we haven’t exactly been checking in ourselves or checking messages lately for that matter. Seriously, what could really be wrong? I mean, it’s not like some evil mastermind has abducted him and is holding him captive in his island lair. It’s just bad timing, sweetie. You two will connect soon, and you’ll realize that you’ve just been reading way too many bad mystery scripts this year. But beyond that, what do you think happened to Sirena and her golf cart? Was it just a backfiring muffler, or was it an attempt to get rid of her? Or us for that matter. That was a loud boom and a lot of smoke for a golf cart malfunction. Something is not right about all of this.”

“I know, I know. Too much just doesn’t feel right about this whole thing to me. How did our annual Memorial Day ‘drink in one hand, credit card in the other’ weekend turn into such a mess?”

June shook her head and replied, “I don’t know, but even though we can’t seem to avoid daily attempts on our lives lately, there is one thing we do exceptionally well, and that is coming up with plans. We need a good one this time for figuring out who this bad guy is. Let’s get to the bottom of this mystery, so we can finally lie back in our beach chairs and get to the bottom of a margarita instead.”

“Now that sounds like a happy ending! Let me find my notebook and a pen so we can start figuring this out.”

So much for leaving the investigation to the professionals. I hauled my tote bag onto my lap and dug around, producing a hot pink pad of rule-lined paper and a nice variety of colored gel pens.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s start from the beginning. What do we know? We have to get the who, what, when, where, why and how.”

“Oh boy, now you sound like my journalism instructor. I always forget that you were an English teacher before you became fun. I’ll bite though. I think the who is knock-off guy for sure, maybe even a partner or the mob too. The what seems to be some sort of cover-up. The when, well, that’s pretty much anytime we turn around, and that’s also the where—anywhere we happen to be. The why is the big one. I guess he could be covering up a ‘knock-off scheme’ like we first thought. Or maybe he has been supplying the island with supposedly designer merchandise for years making a fortune on phony designer items, and just maybe, finally, someone, probably Ruby and Roger, figured out what he was up to. He panicked and destroyed their store and all of their merchandise so they would have no proof of his crimes. What do you think?”

“I just don’t know. And what about that poor victim they found burnt in the attic? Does anyone even know who that might be? I still can’t get my mind around any diabolical schemes centering around our favorite vacation spot and our good friends.”

I had a vision of evil fiends skulking around in the dark with engraved lighters waiting for their chance to carry out an evil plot. Shaking my head and twisting my hair into a messy knot gave me a moment to rid myself of negative thoughts and consider the possibilities.

“Do you think Ruby and Roger could be in some kind of financial trouble?” I mused. “Maybe they had no choice except to buy the knock-offs and try to charge full price for them.”

“It’s hard to say what people, even good ones, will do in a financial crisis. I guess it could happen. So, what do you think we should do, Francie? Do you have a magic wand or a crystal ball in that bag of yours? We need something to point us in the right direction. How are we going to find out who this guy is?”

“I say we lay a trap for him. We know he’s been following us. Let’s stick around here until he comes back. Then we can ambush him. I have some pepper spray somewhere in my purse, and I know you’ve been training with that good-looking instructor at the tae kwon do studio, if you could call that training… I’m sure that between the two of us and our super skills, we could hold that poorly dressed, ponytailed greaser down until we can call your Detective Morgan for backup.”

“He’s not mine yet, but here’s to hoping. From what I gather, he is unattached and available, and he is definitely too dreamy to be hiding away on that tiny little island all alone.”

“All right, Aphrodite, cool your toga! Do you think it’s doable? Can we actually pull this one off? Up until now, our track record hasn’t been all that great.”

“Well, we have to try to do something to end this nightmare. I can’t take one more day of this craziness, and I’m ready to give this everything I’ve got.”

“Me too. I can’t stand not knowing where Hamm is, and all of these fires and explosions are really starting to get old. Not to mention people passing out on the beach every day.”

We spent the rest of our time sipping our wine and savoring the last of our meal. Occasionally, one of us would suggest a strategy detail or a slight addition to the basic plan, but we couldn’t come up with any better alternative, so we decided to go with it, determined to make it happen.

June and I left the patio and headed toward the marina and June’s houseboat. There was no turning back now. Mission “Find the Bad Guy” was officially under way. Once we got aboard Anchor Management, we set about making as much noise as we could, dropping cups and dishes into the sink, flinging notebooks, talking loudly and laughing as if we were having a grand old time. June strode fore to aft turning on all of the lights in the cabin. This was to make our whereabouts obvious to anyone who happened to be watching us.

“So now what?” she asked, kicking aside a pile of magazines and a small recorder that had landed in front of the sink where she now stood with her arms crossed in front of her.

“I say we pop in a DVD, microwave some popcorn, and wait.”

“That’s the hardest part, just sitting around. What if no one shows up?” Inactivity had never been June’s strong suit.

Soon, we were both caught up in our favorite movie, Thelma and Louise. For the next half hour, we shared popcorn and got inspired by Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis making tracks in their ’66 Thunderbird. But before Brad Pitt made his getaway with all the money, it was time to make our move. The night had finally turned that inky dark that only occurs far away from streetlights and convenience store neon signs. We changed into solid black shirts and pants. Knowing how I always get chilly in the night air, I also borrowed a black, hooded sweatshirt with the yacht club insignia embroidered tastefully on the front pocket.  Lucky for me, June had stretchy black leggings in addition to her size-two jeans. We both wear size-eight shoes, and being the fashionista that she is, June had both short and tall black boots in her closet. I pulled the knee-high boots over the leggings and then admired my new look in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the door to the forward berth. I don’t mind saying that I looked pretty cool and mysterious. I conveniently had a tin of black shoe polish stashed in my bag. Sometimes, I had to give Hamm’s dress shoes a quick shine before an important engagement. After all these years, he was still fussy about the condition of his shoes. We dipped our fingers into the greasy stuff and smudged a bit under each eye. We pulled black ball caps over our hair and our ensembles were complete.

“Stay low,” June whispered as we exited the boat and crept stealthily down the length of the dock, making our way to the little patch of trees and tall ornamental grass at the end. When we got to our hiding spot, we crouched down and held our breath for what seemed like hours. I took a quick peek at my watch and discovered only fifteen minutes had passed. In that time, we had seen only two cars and not one single person on foot.

“This is lame. Let’s give it up. Once again, what were we thinking?”

June shushed me for the second time in less than one hour. “Listen. I think I hear someone coming.”

That someone was tall and dressed very much like the two of us, right down to the black ball cap. “I think it’s him, and he has something in his hand, a flashlight, I think.”

I was certain it was the knock-off guy. We waited impatiently until the stranger had made it past our hiding place and halfway down the dock before untangling ourselves from the foliage, ready to follow. Before we even got to our feet, the perfectly groomed Clifton Sterling appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and he was walking very purposefully straight toward us.

“What is he doing here?” June squeaked.

It was my turn to shush her. He passed right by us without even a cursory glance and turned onto the dock.

“I think he’s going to your boat. Maybe he left something aboard.”

“There’s nothing of his left there. No. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

Before June could call out a warning to her ex-husband, he had caught up to the mystery person. They both stopped right in front of June’s boat, and when the stranger in black turned toward Clifton, his eyes widened in surprised recognition. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his body language told me that he was agitated, perhaps even angry. Clifton took a solid hold on the person’s left arm. There was a brief struggle, and then the stranger swung around fiercely and smashed the flashlight across the back of Clifton’s head. He crumpled to the dock like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and the next sound we heard was the splash of his body as he was nudged by a black steel-tipped boot over the edge of the dock and into the cold water.

I grabbed June’s shoulder. She was still frozen to her spot, staring wide-eyed at the unfolding scene. “Snap out of it!” I hissed into her ear.

We sprinted toward the spot that just moments ago Clifton had occupied. My raised hand was clutching a can of pepper spray, and June’s fists of fury were clenched in front of her, ready to pounce.

The dark figure in front of the houseboat turned resolutely toward us. A feeble moonbeam illuminated the face of Sirena Divine.

“Well, hello, ladies. I must admit I’m a little surprised. I thought you two were inside having a little movie night. Instead, I see you were out playing super spy again. No matter, as long as we’re all together now.”

“What is going on, Sirena?” I shrieked. “We need to get Clifton out of the water! He’s going to drown.”

“That’s the point, darling. Why don’t we all go aboard and have a little chat. I can see you haven’t put all the pieces together yet.” She bent down and called out in an unholy voice that sent a shiver down my spine, “Hey, Cliff, say hello to Hammond when you get to the other side!”

The blood in my veins turned into frozen sludge. Please don’t let this be happening!

Sirena straightened up and raised her right hand toward us. What I had thought was a flashlight turned out to be a small black gun with a silver handle. Slowly, she pointed it steadily at us, and in a sickeningly sweet voice, invited us to join her on June’s boat.

When we got inside, Sirena kept the gun pointed squarely at us and hissed, “Sit down and don’t say a single word. Now!”

We slumped on the couch, terrified at the transformation that had turned our gracious new friend into this cold, steely-eyed stranger who was now maniacally rifling through the fridge and cupboards, flinging everything we hadn’t thrown earlier across the room.

“Well come on, ladies. Aren’t you going to at least offer me a glass of wine so we can chat civilly before I have to kill you? Oh wait, I almost forgot, we already drank your bottle of Pinot Grigio at the shop earlier today. Thanks for that by the way. I grabbed it as an afterthought on my way out of here the other night. It turned out to be a pretty good wine. And what was the translation of its name again? Oh, I remember, ‘Here’s Tomorrow.’ Well you won’t have to worry about that now.”

For once, neither of us became mute with terror. Adrenaline and the instinct to survive set us both into instant action. June and I started shooting questions at our captor. “What is going on, Sirena? Have you gone crazy?”

“We need to help Clifton and find the knock-off guy!”

“We have to clear Hamm’s name and solve the mystery of the fire at Ruby’s. Why are you here?”

“And what’s with the gun and the threats? We didn’t do anything! The real criminal is still out there somewhere.”

“Oh, where to start with the questions?” Sirena’s calmness now was the exact opposite of her agitated state just moments earlier. “You ladies have it all wrong, some detectives you turned out to be. I guess if I had realized you were so naive and stupid, I wouldn’t have deemed it necessary to bother with getting rid of you.”

She bent down and opened the cupboard under the sink. Never moving her gun away from its targets, she retrieved a bottle of red wine that June had stashed there for emergencies. She stood and poured out three servings into red solo cups that she found in the same cupboard, intended for the same purpose.

“Here, have a little drink with me while I explain. Then, unfortunately for you, we have to get back to the business of getting you both out of the picture. It’s too bad really, you seem like you might have been kind of fun.”

I held out my shaking hand to take the drink being offered and June did the same. Neither of us could stop staring wide-eyed at Sirena as she paced feverishly back and forth in the tight cabin quarters. She had a disconnected look as she stepped over, around, and on all of the debris cluttering the small space.

“Listen, Sirena, we have got to get out of here. You don’t understand…”

She cut me off mid-sentence. “My name is not Sirena! God, how I hate that name. And it is not me who doesn’t understand, it is you two bumbling morons!”

She stopped abruptly, set her drink on the counter, and put her hands on her hips. She spoke now through clenched teeth, enunciating every word. “My name is Senora. Sirena is dead. Could you really not tell the difference? Sirena was my twin, and I took care of her just like I’m about to take care of both of you. She was a do-gooder, always interfering in other people’s business, just like you. It’s no surprise you all hit it off.”

“Whaaaat?” I shot to the edge of my seat while June sank farther back into the cushions.

“I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, Sirena, but knock it off. We’re fishing Clifton’s waterlogged Armani ass out of that water and calling Detective Morgan right now!”

The last thing I saw before being sucked into total oblivion was the lovely Sirena Divine whirling toward me with the half-empty wine bottle.