Death of a Hot Chick (8 page)

Nothing but dirt and dust balls.

Anywhere else to look? I glanced around the
cabin. Every drawer had been opened, every shelf swept clean, and
the V-berth was a disaster zone.

There must be something about the boat.

“
What is it, Nicole? Is there a
secret?” I asked aloud, but no one answered.

~
~

Saturday, July 22, 6:21 a.m.

Six, he’d said six sharp. Why had I rushed?
My supplies were lined up: tool kit, teak oil, buffing compound—but
nothing to repair an ailing engine. Finally I heard the clunk of
the boat cart with the wobbly wheel. Wes had arrived.

“
See you’re ready,” he said and
started off-loading his tools. “What’s she need again?”

“
Filters for one thing. Don’t know
what else.”

Wes pulled the cabin sole hatch open and got
on his knees to look into the engine. “They expect you to be a
contortionist,” he muttered. He squatted and moved around, poking
and rubbing with his rag. “Okay, hand me that Phillips head screw
driver, and not the....”

I handed him the screw driver, trying not to
listen to his description of anything metric. He kept muttering,
swearing, and asking for things.

“
Three quarter inch wrench,” he
said.

I scrounged among his tools, handed him what
he needed and waited for further instructions. He replaced hose
clamps, removed screws to clean and oil before replacing them. “One
of these hoses might give you problems in a few months,” he said.
“Want a new one now?”

“
Um, no. Not right now.” However, I
added a mental note to my check list. Something else to consider if
I couldn’t sell
Snapdragon
.

A good while later, after I’d handed him
nearly all the tools in his kit, he said, “Get some diesel in my
fuel can. Gotta prime the filter.”

I lugged the can to the fuel dock, returned
with a gallon of diesel, and saw Wes smoking a cigarette—on my boat
deck. “Hey, this is a non-smoking boat. Do you see any ash
trays?”

He took another puff, went inside, and
stubbed the butt out in the sink. “Just be glad I’m working on your
boat. Should have been a couple of weeks before I got around to
this job. Do you know how many others I’ve got waiting?”

“
I’m thinking you’d rather they wait
than for me to stay in your marina.” I ran water over the mangled
cigarette and tossed it into the trash. “Why?”

“
Hah,” he said and grabbed the fuel
can.

I followed him. “What could happen to
you if
Snapdragon
is still
here next month?” Obviously, he didn’t care what happened to me.
“You think this Pop guy will come after you when he gets out of
jail?”

“
Him, yeah. Not his
nephew.”

“
Nephew?”

“
You know.”

“
Wes, I don’t know anything except
somebody broke into my boat, messed it up, but didn’t take anything
that I can see.”

“
Well, there you go.” Wes started
pouring the diesel and added, “Stand ready to turn her
on.”

He was through talking, but I wasn’t through
asking. “You think the nephew broke in?”

No answer.

“
Is Chester his nephew? He had the
boat before Nicole.”

Still no answer. After a few minutes, Wes
finally spoke. “Almost done. You turn the engine on when I tell
you. And stop it on the dime when I holler. Got it?”

More questions would do no good. “Yes,
sir.”

I turned the engine on at his prompt. Two
minutes later, he yelled, “Off.”

The moment the noise died, I heard a voice
from outside the boat, saying, “Hey in there. Permission to come
aboard.”

Another police visit. Officer Doug Yarnell.
Again. I’d rather say, “Go away,” but I didn’t. “Sure. My house is
your house. Step right in.”

“
Officer Yarnell,” he said, like he
hadn’t been on the boat two days before. Or, that he hadn’t gone
through that whole memory lane bit about my past. “What’s going on
here?”

“
Engine repairs.”

“
Who authorized it? Or, maybe I should
just raise my eyebrows and ask, ‘On someone else’s boat?’ Forget I
asked. I’m here to get other answers.”

“
All done,” Wes said as he reared his
head out of the miniature engine room below the cabin sole. “What
we got? The police?”

“
More questions about the night of the
murder. I have questions for you, too.”

“
I wasn’t there,” Wes said. “I’m not
here now. I’ve got work to do.”

“
You doing something that the deceased
contracted for?”

“
He’s doing it for me,” I said as Wes
gathered his tools.

“
Really?”

“
Yes. You have questions. Ask
away.”

“
We’ll get back to that,” he said.
“Tell me again about the night of the murder. You were aboard this
boat. Why were you living on,
Snapdragon
, that’s the name, right?”

“
Nicole hired me to clean and do minor
repairs. Staying aboard was part of the deal.”

Wes disappeared down the dock, but Doug was
still there with his questions. “What deal would that be?”

“
Like I said—I’d stay here while I
worked on the boat. Cheaper for her. And me. I’d expected to be
paid for supplies, but I’d already spent nearly sixty dollars, and
it was either get paid or quit eating.”

“
However, you are still working and
living on the boat. Why haven’t you made other living
arrangements?”

“
That’s the rest of the deal. The
boat’s mine now.”

“
I’m afraid not. Mr. Joline, Nicole’s
father, wants her boat, and since there seems to be no will, he is
next of kin and owns everything.”

“
She put my name on the
title.”

“
She
what?
”

“
She added my name to the title. My
sister took it home for safekeeping, but I’ll get copies
today.”

Doug grunted, turned away, then turned back.
“Maybe you lead a charmed life. All I can say is protect that title
and keep copies on hand.”

“
You were going to kick me off
Snapdragon
? Is that the reason you’re
here?”

“
This does put a new light on the
investigation.” He hesitated, then added, “You do realize you’re a
person of interest in Miss Joline’s death.”

“
And Teddy wasn’t supposed to warn me,
right?” I turned away, but I couldn’t resist adding, “You’re hard
up for suspects, is that it?”

“
Why don’t you come on down to the
station and answer a few questions? A statement, for our
records.”

I turned around at the cabin door. “I’ve
given the police plenty of statements already. You know that.”

“
You have been cooperative.” He put a
hand on the rail to hoist himself out of the boat.

“
But you were going to kick me out,
weren’t you?”

“
You had three days. Maybe you still
do.” Doug stepped on the dock, then turned. “Word of advice, Cyd.
As one old neighbor to another, you might say. Could be a good idea
to have a lawyer before Edward Joline hears about this.”

Chapter 6

The sign on the door read: Smith, Smith,
Smith, and Owens - Attorneys at Law. The nameplate on the desk
read: J. Smith Owens, Esquire. The very young man who jumped up to
shake Kaye’s hand wore a golf shirt with a tiny alligator on the
pocket. I listened as my sister thanked him profusely for meeting
us on his day off.

“
How could I refuse to see my favorite
professor?” he asked. “I’ve got to tell you, your course on recent
Central American history changed my entire life.”

As Kaye and J. Smith Owens talked college
courses, study in Panama and Costa Rica, his uncles and father, I
studied the framed certificates on the wall and the view from the
small window. I learned J. stood for Jonathan, he had four pens in
a black, initialed holder, and three pictures on his desk. One was
the graduation photo of a cutie. Probably the girl friend. The
other two were family groups. Judging from the clothing, one group
was likely dead. That would account for most of the Smiths.

Finally, Kaye said, “My sister has an
interesting legal problem related to Nicole Joline’s death. This
title,” she said, as she placed it before him.

He frowned, held it up, then turned it
over.

I didn’t like that frown. “Is anything the
matter?” I asked.

“
This does seem to be a legal title.
However, it is unusual to see one that has not been kept in the
best condition. The damage does not seem to be related to the age
of the document. The paper was wet at some point?” He didn’t wait
for an answer, but turned to the front of the paper and muttered to
himself, “Not sure about that handwritten addition. It is witnessed
and dated, but not notarized.” After a moment, he turned to me.
“How did you come by this document? Did Miss Joline give it to
you?”

“
Yes.” In way, that was
true.

“
The time-date is before her death?” I
nodded. “That may preclude the absence of notarized signatures. You
and the witness can testify these are your signatures?”

I nodded again. “She said it made everything
all legal.”

“
There will be an inquest into her
death. This may figure into her estate.” He opened a drawer,
removed a folder, and opened it. “I must study the ramifications,”
he said as he placed the title in the folder.

“
No! You can’t have it.”

Kaye jerked her head around to look at me,
then she nodded. Obviously we were of the same opinion because she
said, “Perhaps we should make copies and put this one in a safe
deposit box. The original could always be shown later, if
necessary.”

“
Of course. I’ll make a copy for my
use to research the applicable laws. It needn’t be notarized.
Although, I recommend you do obtain notarized copies.”

“
Excellent suggestion,” Kaye said.
“Now, let’s discuss your retainer.”

“
Oh, please. Should I ask my favorite
teacher for money? Let’s see how much time this requires. We’ll
talk about that later.”

I opened my wallet and took out all the
bills. One ten and four ones. “Fourteen dollars. I insist you take
this for now.”

J. Smith’s face got red. “Please, no,” he
said.

“
Do take it, Jonathan,” Kaye said.
“Little though it is, you are now her lawyer. And believe me, you
will be paid in full. Didn’t those years at college teach you
anything about finances?”

That’s when he actually got serious, filled
out a bunch of papers promising to research the boat title and
represent me in any dealings. He even looked at me twice. But he
definitely spoke to Kaye when he added, “I’ll also file a notice of
interested party to the estate of Nicole Joline.”

“
Of course,” Kaye said.

“
Thank you for handling my case,” I
said, belatedly acting like a client. As I watched Kaye take care
of my business, I wondered when my sister would start going the,
“tough love,” route. Telling me, “You’re a big girl now. Handle
it,” whatever “it” might be at the moment. How did I get so messed
up? Had I depended on Al so much that I’d forgotten everything I
knew before? How to be independent, responsible? And, when would I
break away? When would I tell Kaye, “Thanks, but no
thanks?”

Not today.

Kaye’s insurance company was our next stop
for more waiting as they wrote a month’s binder for the boat. Kaye
paid. She’d lined up the notary as well. I knew to the penny the
remaining coins in my pocket. My slim bank account barely covered
the checks for the notarized copies and the first month’s rental of
a safe-deposit box.

“
I’ll pay you back,” I murmured. I
should have said, “Don’t you get tired of bailing me out?” Instead,
I said, “Thank you.”

Kaye dropped me off at the marina,
with a cheery, “Be back later.” Just as well she left. I wasn’t up
to entertaining anyone, not even my sister. How would I pay for
everything? When I polished
Snapdragon
‘til she was in Bristol condition, I
had to sell her.

Once inside I sat, rested my elbows on the
table and flexed my fingers. Spread them apart. Clasped them under
my chin.

“
Nicole,” I said hesitatingly. “Are
you here?”

There was no answer.

Okay, she chose me because I was her only
available conduit. The first time, she came while I talked to
Gregory. No, that wasn’t the first time. She’d been there, right
after her death, even before I knew she was dead, telling me to
take the title. Then, she actually appeared when I showed
him...when I showed him the title.

I grabbed a copy of the title. Wasn’t the
real thing, but it might work.

“
Nicole? We need to talk.”

No answer. I stroked the copy with my
finger.

“
Nicole, where are you?”

Still no answer. But, the actual title, the
piece of paper that Nicole had touched might work. Was that the
secret?

Or, was she around, even if I didn’t
hear her? “Nicole, how can I find out who killed you if you don’t
tell me anything?” Silly, talking to the air, to nothing. “Nicole,
I got new insurance on
Snapdragon
. I have the title in a safe-deposit
box. Should I do more? Is there anything to find if I search the
boat? Do you know someone broke in?”