Murder Hooks a Mermaid (20 page)

It had been a close call. Closer than I had let myself realize. If I hadn’t woken up. If Bluebeard hadn’t screamed for me. If he hadn’t told me there was a fire. If I hadn’t caught it when I did and called for help.

A dozen or more
if
s screamed in my brain, telling me I had come close to being trapped in an inferno. Just a few more minutes unchecked and the flames could have leaped to the building.

The thought gave me the shakes. Losing the Civic was a nuisance. Losing my business, or my life, would have been a tragic accident.

“It wasn’t,” Bluebeard said clearly.

“Wasn’t what?”

“An accident.”

Ice water coursed through my veins. The last time Bluebeard told me something wasn’t an accident, I had landed in the middle of a murder investigation.

This time I was already there. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be.

“What? How can you say that? How can you answer a question I didn’t even ask?”

Bluebeard looked up at me, a steady gaze with that flash of almost-human intelligence.

My frustration boiled over. “This makes no sense! The things I ask, you don’t answer. Then you answer a question I didn’t ask. Don’t you have some rules about what you can and can’t do? There must be limits. You can’t just go crawling around in my head, listening to my private thoughts and commenting on them.”

Bluebeard cocked his head—a quizzical motion, as if he’d never thought about what the rules were. He ruffled his feathers impatiently, as though trying unsuccessfully to shrug off the question.

He hopped from my arm and made his way across the shop to his cage. Retreating to the darkened interior, he settled on his perch, muttering. I couldn’t make out most of what he said, but I did catch what sounded like “stinking rules.”

Jake tapped gently on the front door, and I let him in.

“I’m really okay,” I said before he could speak. “But you were right, sleep is out of the question.”

I turned the lights off and checked the alarms—again—before leading the way upstairs. Jake settled on the sofa, and I dropped into an overstuffed chair. I pulled up my knees and wrapped my arms around a pillow like a comforting teddy bear.

Jake opened his mouth, but I didn’t want to talk about what happened. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I was going to have to face when daylight came.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” I said, deflecting his comment. “What were you doing on that truck, wearing a fireman’s outfit?”

“Being a volunteer fireman,” he answered, as though that explained everything.

A volunteer firefighter? That took months of training and testing. It wasn’t something you just decided to do on a random Monday night.

“Since when?” I thought we were getting closer, close enough that I trusted him with the truth about Bluebeard. And he hadn’t told me about something as simple as joining the local volunteer department?

“Since just before Christmas. I didn’t want to say anything to anybody until I passed my exams.”

His voice cracked with emotion, and he stopped to draw a deep breath. I wondered why he reacted so strongly, but before I could ask, he continued.

“I wanted to tell you, really. But I didn’t want to look like an idiot if I didn’t pass the exams.”

I shook my head. “Jake, the department needs every able body they can recruit. They’d make sure you got through the exams.”

He sat up straighter, shocked. “I didn’t want to pass that way.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean anything underhanded. The good ol’ boys might cut corners, but not when it comes to the department. On that score they’re as serious as a heart attack. I just meant they’d get someone to coach you, or study with you, or whatever it took to get you ready for the exam.”

“Oh,” Jake said, mollified. “It’s just, you know, you’ve talked about some of the stuff that goes on around here.”

Embarrassed that he’d jumped to a wrong conclusion, he was anxious to move on.

“Anyway, I got my certificate on Saturday, and I was waiting for a chance to tell you.”

“But things have been a little hectic,” I said, letting him off the hook. For now.

He grinned with relief. “Well, I hadn’t planned to tell you by showing up at your place in my turnouts.”

A shiver ran through me at the reminder of what had happened.

“You don’t look okay,” Jake said, getting up from the sofa and moving over to crouch down at my side.

“I’m fine for a while, then it hits me,” I confessed. “If I hadn’t woken up when I did…” I shivered again, and Jake put a protective arm around my shoulders.

It felt strange, letting him comfort me. Strange, and dangerous. I was used to being very independent, to taking care of myself, and I’d learned the hard way how easy it is to lose the people you depend on.

I rested my head against his arm, but I couldn’t look at him. Instead, I stared out the window toward the bay, where the first faint light of dawn was turning the black sky to deep gray.

Soon the sun would rise and I would have to face the day. There would be the mess to clean up and the hulk to dispose of. I’d have to call my insurance agent, and think about replacing the Civic.

For now, though, I pushed all that aside and just watched the sky lighten toward morning. The rest would come soon enough.

Chapter 24

“WOULD YOU LIKE SOME BREAKFAST?”

Jake shifted slightly, his arm still around my shoulders. He’d knelt on the floor next to my chair for a long time, long enough for the sky to turn from dark gray to pale gray to mauve with streaks of pink and gold. Sunrise was still nearly an hour away, but the promise of a new day grazed the horizon.

I hadn’t thought about food until he mentioned it, but as soon as he did, my stomach growled. Loudly.

“I guess so,” I said with an embarrassed laugh.

“Then how about letting Keyhole Bay’s newest firefighter take you out?”

He stood up and I marveled at how easily he got back to his feet after so long on his knees on the hard floor. He held out his hand to me, and I took it, letting him pull me out of my chair and into his arms.

He hugged me, whispering close to my ear, “You’ll get through this. And I’m here to help.”

He released me, but kept hold of my hand. “Let’s go eat.”

His car was at the curb out front, so I didn’t have to look at my poor Civic. That could wait a little longer.

He didn’t ask where I wanted to go, just drove to Coast Café, uphill from the docks. It was the only place open this early, catering to the fishermen needing a hot meal before heading out for the day. The place was packed, and I realized with a jolt that the commercial fishing season opened this morning. For everyone except Riley and
Ocean Breeze
.

I spotted Barton Grover at a round table with several other captains, swapping lies and talking trash about the coming season. He caught my eye and waved a greeting.

As we passed their table on the way to the counter—the only empty seats in the tiny place—he raised his chin and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” I answered.

“You tell Riley he better get his butt in gear, because I plan to kick it all over the Gulf.”

It was as close to concern as I was likely to hear in the testosterone-drenched atmosphere, but I knew what he meant. He was thinking about Riley and hoping for the best, and would I please pass that along?

“I’ll do that.”

I moved on, sliding onto an empty red-vinyl stool at the scarred linoleum counter. Jake turned just in time to see a skinny young man slide onto the remaining empty stool next to me.

He glared at the kid, who paled beneath his gaze. “Just
getting something to go,” he told Jake. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

Jake retreated a step, standing behind me with one hand on my shoulder. He leaned down, and said softly, “Too late. I already know he’s here.”

I looked over my shoulder to find him grinning at me.

A sixtysomething woman with an untidy bun of gray hair and reading glasses on a chain handed me a menu. She raised her eyebrows without speaking, and waved the coffeepot at me.

I nodded.

She switched her gaze to my companion, and I watched the transformation come over her as she got the full impact of Jake’s blue eyes and megawatt smile.

“Coffee?” she cooed.

She filled two once-white pottery mugs, their sides stained from countless cups of the strong, black brew. She reached past me to hand a mug to Jake before putting one on the counter in front of me.

“Darren!” she snapped at the young man next to me. “Where are your manners? You get yourself off that stool and let the gentleman sit down, ’fore I have to tell your mama!”

She turned away, muttering about “no respect,” much the way Bluebeard muttered about, well, everything. I felt a smile tickle the corners of my mouth, but I had to admit she had a point. The boy, probably still in his teens and working his first season, had been raised to respect his elders, and that included surrendering the last stool at the lunch counter.

No matter that Jake wasn’t that old—north of forty I guessed, but not far. Nor did it matter that he was in good
shape, a fact I could attest to, having seen him haul heavy boxes of books, wrestle crib parts into submission, and tromp around a fire scene in heavy turnouts.

None of that mattered. Jake was older than Darren, and the waitress knew his mama. He got up and offered the stool to Jake.

Jake started to refuse, gesturing at the boy to sit back down. I tapped on his arm, and when he turned to look at me I shook my head once, back and forth.

He sat.

Once he was at my level, I leaned over and explained the intricacies of southern manners regarding one’s elders.

“But I’m not old,” Jake argued.

“Maybe I shouldn’t expect a Yankee to understand,” I said. “But around here we are raised to respect our elders, even when the difference is slight. And from that kid’s point of view”—I glanced over to where Darren hovered by the cash register, waiting for his order—“you’re ancient.”

Jake frowned.

“He’s probably eighteen, maybe nineteen. Anyone over thirty has one foot in the grave.” I grinned, trying to soften the blow. “Sorry, old man. I feel the same way when Julie calls me ‘Miss Glory.’”

A line was forming at the cash register as the fishermen finished a final cup of coffee and headed out to start the day.

I wasn’t sure about the details—how early they could cast their lines, or spread their nets, or whatever—and I was sure there were other boats that were already on the water. But the sun would be above the horizon soon, and these boats and crews would head out to find the day’s catch.

I ordered eggs and bacon and fried potatoes with gravy. Jake gave me a questioning look, then doubled the order.

“Trust me,” I said as the waitress stuck the ticket on a stainless steel spinner and turned it toward the cook on the other side of the pass-through. “You’re gonna love it.”

After his first few bites, he had to admit I was right.

I felt better after a meal and several cups of coffee. It was hard to stay depressed when I was full of crisp, smoky bacon, and fried potatoes with perfectly seasoned gravy. The attentive company didn’t hurt, either.

Once we were back in the car, Jake put the key in the ignition, but he didn’t start the engine. Instead, he turned to look at me, his expression serious.

“Before I take you home, there’s something you need to know. I didn’t want to tell you before, but you’ll find out soon enough, anyway.”

I didn’t like the sound of this. My stomach tightened, and I clenched my hands into fists to control them from shaking.

“The captain, Clark, doesn’t think that fire looked accidental. He’s going to be out there himself, first thing this morning, with an investigation team.”

I couldn’t control the hysterical laughter that welled up from inside me.

Jake’s stricken look instantly quenched the laughter.

I patted his arm in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared, just puzzled. It’s not the reaction I expect when I tell someone their car was deliberately torched.”

“You were so scared. It was all over your face. You thought you were trapped in a car with a woman who had just gone over the edge. And have you had a lot of experience telling people their cars were ‘deliberately torched?’”

“Okay. Maybe I was concerned. But there was nothing to be scared of.” He didn’t answer my question, an omission I was coming to expect from him where his past was concerned.

Actually, it told me more than he realized. He didn’t laugh off the comment or admit it wasn’t something he’d done often. He completely avoided the subject.

Which meant I’d hit on something. I would have to come back to the topic of torching cars later.

“All right,” I conceded. “I didn’t mean to
concern
you. But Bluebeard already told me it wasn’t an accident. And when you said the captain didn’t think it was accidental, well, I had this mental image of Bluebeard in a fire helmet, saying, ‘It wasn’t an accident.’ And somehow that was the funniest thing I had pictured in ages.”

“I can see where that might make you laugh,” Jake said, although he didn’t sound convinced.

“Maybe you have to have lived with Bluebeard and his antics for a few years.” I shrugged. “Anyway, I’m really not surprised. After all, this isn’t the first time he’s said something like that.”

“You mean the time he told you about Kevin.”

“Yeah. Except this time I’m already involved with a murder investigation.”

Jake started the engine and put the car in gear. Without taking his eyes off the road, he asked, “Do you think a murder investigation is a very smart place to be?”

He turned onto the highway, heading back toward Southern Treasures. “I mean, the captain just thinks the fire was arson. He’ll probably ask you about insurance and what was wrong with the car.”

“He’ll what?” I asked, indignant.

“Lots of car fires are insurance arsons, Glory. It’s the first thing they’re going to think of. Then they’ll ask if you had an argument or a problem with anyone recently. I doubt you’re going to tell them about poking your nose into Bobby’s problems or breaking into those two guys’ apartment. But I know it, and I would bet you a year’s worth of lattes one of those things had something to do with the fire.”