Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) (14 page)

“See ya, Gunner!” June gave him a pat on the head as we left the kitchen. He didn’t even twitch an eye.

Just over ten minutes later, we arrived at our destination, half the time it took us on the ferry. I pulled the jet boat up to Cozy Cove, a small marina located about a half mile west of the more popular tourist docking locations. This one was mainly used by locals who didn’t care to be in the middle of the summer vacationers’ round-the-clock revelry.

It was finally time to execute part one of our crime-solving game plan. After paying the real-live dock master with genuine currency, which reminded me that we needed to repay yesterday’s IOUs, we headed straight to the small bathhouse reserved for marina guests.

Once inside, I plopped the tote bag and my purse on the counter and we got straight to work. I felt the same adrenaline rush as the backstage preparation right before a show. Getting into character never failed to fill me with excited anticipation, and this wasn’t simply a stage performance; it might be the biggest role I would ever be cast in.

“Come on, Francie, it’s now or never. Pass me the adhesive and let me know when my mustache is straight.”

“I will, but give me a second. My hair is fighting this hat with everything it’s got.”

I continued stuffing rogue curls under an unremarkable beige canvas hat as June wiggled a fake mustache up and down above her lip until it was as straight as it was going to get.

“So, do we look like the Fresh Market delivery guys or what, Francie? I can hardly recognize myself.”

I scrutinized our disguised reflections in the mirror and had to admit, we just might get back to the warehouse undetected. “I guess we won’t know until we try. It’s show time!”

“Here’s to us. Let’s go break a leg!”

“Or not. I never did like that expression. We can do this!”

We high-fived each other, took one last appraising look at ourselves, gathered up our props and headed for the door.

Cautiously at first, we emerged from the bathhouse. I peered around the corner of the door and scanned the area. “The coast is clear!”  Thankfully, there was no one in the vicinity to question what two Fresh Market deliverymen were doing in the women’s restroom. After that, it was a breeze. Not a single person looked twice at our nondescript uniforms as we made our way out of the park and on to the main street.

“It must be close to lunchtime,” June remarked, pulling her smart phone from the pocket of her dark blue work trousers to check the time. “We better refuel before we get started, don’t you think? We have to keep our energy up for the task ahead.”

I couldn’t disagree. The Sand Bar, a small, family-owned establishment, was just up the road from Cozy Cove and was popular with the permanent residents for their ice cold draft beer, fresh perch, and fabulous grilled-cheese sandwiches. We headed straight for the little outdoor bar. I hesitated for a moment when I realized the bartender on duty was one I had seen before. In fact, the last time I was here with Hamm for lunch, he got irritated with the guy for flirting with me. He told me that my smile could chase away any raincloud and was offering me free drinks until my husband asked him about the current status of his liquor license.

Here was our chance to test our disguises. I placed my order for a grilled cheese sandwich and a Corona Light with a very serious expression on my face, hoping my curls would remain under my cap. June settled on some queso cheese dip with chips and a regular Corona. Our orders were delivered quickly and the bartender never even gave me a second glance. I was a little disappointed that my sunny smile wasn’t about to rate me a free drink today, but then I mentally slapped myself for even thinking such a thing. This was no time for flirtations. I should be joyful that my talents for dramatic costuming had gotten us past this first test of theatrical subterfuge.

We weren’t even finished congratulating ourselves on our excellent acting skills when June shifted her gaze downward and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Don’t look now, Francie, but this could be bad, very bad. Detective Morgan is right over there and he’s looking this way.”

“How is it that this guy shows up everywhere we go?” I used all of my resolve to keep my expression neutral and my head turned away. Thankfully, my uniform hat was still doing a nice job of completely covering my unruly curls.

Our disguises must have been really good because although his eyes were squinting in our direction, he did not approach. Also to our advantage, our faces were shaded by the bar’s canopy; so we ate our lunches and drank our beers quickly, then left the bar through the side exit with our backs to the pesky law man.

“I can’t help but worry about finding Michael unconscious on the beach. Do you think we should have told Morgan about what happened? I’m sure he’s going to find out. I don’t want it to look like we’re hiding things from him.”

“The medics took down all our information. We weren’t trying to conceal anything, at least not from them. I think it’s best not to get involved for right now. Besides, we’re delivery men. What would we know about it?”

“Good point! I almost forgot.”

Hopefully Morgan didn’t recognize the seductive sway of June’s hips that even the baggy work pants couldn’t quite conceal. He left at the same time, but headed in the opposite direction toward the street. We had officially passed test number two.

I took a quick glance behind me. “Our disguises are obviously working great, but we better start being more observant. We should have seen his car parked right out front. That was a little too close for comfort.”

“You are absolutely right, Francie. Let’s get going, and let’s keep our eyes and ears open from now on.”

We walked along, following the path worn through the trees by the tires of many golf carts heading toward the lake. The abandoned warehouse was not in sight, but we both knew it was not far from where we were. While we walked toward our destination, we went over the details of our plan one more time.

After making a careful circle of the building, we concluded the van was not on the premises and the golf cart was still tucked away from view under its tarp. It was now or never.

The heavy garage door at the back of the warehouse was still securely locked, so once again we squirmed our way through the gaps in the siding and under the door we had used the day before. With all the added security to the old place, one would think the masterminds of this operation would have thought to repair the obvious problem. Oh well, it worked for us.

Near the front office of the dilapidated building, June located the switch for the overhead lights. They came on slowly and with the whiny sound of fluorescent bulbs that were not long for this world. The inside of the building again lit up, but I could now see the flickering bulbs were dangling precariously from the loft’s ceiling beams. Wild shadows danced eerily over the walls and floor of the drafty building like ghouls at a monster mash.

“This place is really starting to creep me out, June. If it wasn’t for poor Ruby and Roger, and the fact that my husband seems to be mixed up in all of this somehow, I’d be out of here before you could say ‘chocolate martini!’”

June was calmly unpacking her fancy camera equipment she uses on assignment, so I took a nice, deep yoga breath to calm myself and walked over to the far wall to take a closer look into more of the stacked boxes.

I split the packing tape on the top of the first large cardboard box I reached with the hot pink mini box-cutter I had added to my bag this morning. The first thing I pulled out was a pair of royal blue Michael Kors patent leather sandals just like the ones I tried on at Macy’s last week. They were even my size.

“These are really good reproductions!” I whispered toward June’s general location.

I was both amazed and impressed, and frankly overwhelmed, as I opened box after box and uncovered more and more knock-offs of high-end brands favored by many stylish ladies with the need to be noticed. Coach and Gucci handbags in one box. Balenciaga scarves and Yves St. Laurent sunglasses in another. The luxury items were too numerous to name or count.

I looked up from the growing mountain of goods to see June perusing what looked like packing lists attached to a clipboard that hung on the wall.

“Come here, Francie,” she called to me. “This doesn’t look good.”

She reached for her camera and focused the high-power zoom lens in on the names and addresses of several boutiques located on the island and a few more on the mainland. When I got close enough to read the smaller tickets, I saw receipt after receipt all signed by Roger Burns. It appeared that Ruby’s Treasure Chest was one of the most regular buyers of the beautiful contraband.

“Where is all of this stuff coming from? There must be a company name on one of those receipts or packing lists.”

June continued flipping through the stack of paper slips. “Wait. Here’s something!”

I craned my neck to read the small print without the aid of my reading glasses. The poor lighting wasn’t making it any easier. “What? What does it say? I give up.”

“This one says ‘Overmayer Overnighter.’ I bet it’s the name of some sort of transport business. I can look online to see if it’s legitimate. Maybe we can backtrack and trace the source of these boxes through their travel history.”

“Boy, oh, boy. I wish I could remember why something is ringing a bell. I’m sure there’s something familiar about something.”

“Well, gee, Francie, that really narrows it down.”

“There is no need to get sarcastic. Don’t worry. It’ll pop into my head when I least expect it.”

“Well, let’s hope it’s before your seventieth birthday!”

“Never mind that for now. We need to get back to finding out what’s going on!” The tension in the room right now was palpable.

June was on a mission. She snapped photos of all the written evidence and then started in on the boxes and goods strewn about the floor. I decided to walk the perimeter of the building and look for more clues. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I was sure I’d know it when I found it. I passed rows and rows of boxes, picked up a ball of fluff that thankfully didn’t turn out to be a mouse, and tripped on the bottom step of a rickety unstable-looking staircase leading to I didn’t know what. I had made it almost around and back to June but so far had come up empty-handed (except for the fluff). She was just raising her eyes from her camera and suddenly the room went black.

“What the…?” I whipped my head frantically from side to side trying to see something. Anything. “June, are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m here, Francie. Right here.”

We both shuffled our feet and stretched out our arms in the direction of each other’s voices until our fingertips touched. Our fingers locked, and we threw our bodies at one another. Together, we froze in place and waited for our eyes to adjust to the new inky darkness.

After a minute, we finally got our wits about us and assessed our situation.

“I’m surprised those lights stayed on as long as they did,” June finally whispered. “They didn’t look too stable from the get-go.”

“I know.” I replied. “We need to make our way back to those boxes I was looking in when we first got here. My cell phone is still over there. We can use our flashlight apps to see what’s up and get out of here without getting hurt.”

“My phone’s in the front pocket of my camera case. It’s so dark I can’t see it from here. Hopefully, I’ll be able to grab it on our way to get yours.”

We shuffled and groped our way back to the spot where the knock-offs I was looking for were strewn about. I dropped down on my hands and knees, and June bent over the disarray of goods to help me locate my missing phone.

I was still rummaging through all the stuff when June stood up with my phone in her hand. I was about to hug her when she let out a yell that pierced my eardrums like a poisoned syringe.

“Francie, quick! We need to get out of here.”

The next breath I took told me the whole story. The place was quickly filling up with acrid smoke.

“Let’s go!” I cried. I grabbed June’s hand as she pulled me to my feet.

We found the exit door without a problem. It didn’t take long to realize; however, that it was locked tight from the outside, and no amount of pulling, pushing, or banging would budge it. We couldn’t make it to the gap under the garage door entrance either. It was across the room and there was thick black smoke and flaming boxes and merchandise in front of us blocking our path.

“Up there! The windows. We need to get to the windows!”

I knew it was the only other means of escape. But we needed to get there. The windows were nearly at the roofline, and the stairs I had tripped over just minutes ago were probably as deadly as the smoke. We determined they were intended to lead up to some additional storage under the rafters, and we also surmised that they wouldn’t support a forty-pound child, let alone two grown women. We had no other choice. It looked like we were going to have to take our chances.

June grabbed my arm tightly. “We need to decide what to do and fast! Find something we can use to break the window. I’ll look for something to break our fall.”

I remembered hearing June talk about the work she had done on an article for Sexy Men in Suspenders last winter. She had explained to me that in a burning building, oxygen doesn’t last long, especially the higher up in the room a person was. We needed to work fast. I searched frantically for something we could use to smash those windows. They were just single panes of glass, so it shouldn’t be too hard. “Here’s a Coach umbrella I think will do the job.”