Romantic/Suspense Author

Irene Estep

ALL IN THE GAME

Free Romantic Suspense Short Story

By

Irene Estep

     Chapter One

     “Oh dear!  Karo, I've done a terrible thing.” The elderly voice of Harriet Newlander trembled as thunder boomed in the background.

     “Aunt Harriet, What's wrong?” Karoline's hand tightened on the phone. She put down the red pencil she was using to grade her third grade students’ papers.

     “No, don’t—” Harriet was cut off when the line went dead.

     The voice had sounded so faint that Karo couldn't tell if the last couple of words were directed at her or someone else. She glanced at the clock over the stove. It was almost eleven pm, long past her aunt's usual bedtime. A chill of apprehension raced down her spine. Quickly she dialed her aunt's number.

     Panic gripped her as the phone rang and rang, but no one answered. What had Aunt Harriet meant?  I've done a terrible thing.

     Karo was reminded of the time her aunt called her after the firemen had extinguished a blaze in her stove from a pound cake she'd forgotten was baking. Or the time she had lost her monthly pension check on bingo and had to delve into her savings. Aunt Harriet didn't like dipping into her savings although her reserves were quite hefty. “Saving it for old age,” she always said. At seventy-three, Harriet was more active than a thirty-year-old, which was Karo’s age. Harriet’s voice had held a more foreboding tone this time, though, and Karo couldn't take any chances on her aunt's safety.

     She rummaged through the contents of the kitchen drawer next to the phone.  When she found the piece of paper where she’d jotted down the home number of  the Altoona county sheriff, she punched the digits quickly. As she waited for him to answer memories of the last emergency call she’d made to the sheriff returned. It had turned out to be a false alarm, not the first one she'd innocently made over the last few months. At her aunt's age, Karo worried the next time the emergency could be real. This time it seemed all too real. Not wanting to be fined for 911 abuse, she'd scribbled his home number down from the phone directory the last time she'd visited Aunt Harriet. There was a click on the phone and something electrifying zinged through her when the man spoke.

     ‘This had better be damned important.”

     “Sheriff Marlowe?” She wished her voice hadn’t squeaked like air escaping from a rubber duck. He's just a man, and feeling intimidated by him was just plain silly.

     “Hold on a minute.” After he dropped the receiver onto a hard surface, she heard paper crackling, then the sound of flint striking metal. He took his time picking up the phone again. She silently cursed his cigarette habit and wondered if he'd recognized her voice. She got her answer when he came back on the line.

     “What is it this time, Ms. Becker?”

     Karo regained her normal voice and said, “I think my aunt is in some kind of trouble.”

     “Your aunt is a grown woman who happens to have a life, which is something you should try working on.” She stiffened, wondering if he meant her to overhear his mumbled words. More clearly, he asked, “What makes you think she's in trouble this time?”

     Karo ignored his sarcasm. “Aunt Harriet called me a few minutes ago and said ...” not knowing what kind of terrible thing her aunt had done she decided vagueness was called for, “she sounded really scared, and the phone went dead before I could find out what was wrong.”

     Taking time to blow smoke, he asked, “Why don't you try calling her back?”

     She almost said, “Gee, why didn't I think of that.” Meetings with the parents of failing or troubled students had trained her to ignore cynicism, especially when she needed their cooperation. “The storm must have knocked out the service or something. She doesn't answer and I returned the call immediately.”

     “Well, that’s probably it. The storm scared her and the lights going out—”

     “I can see you can't be bothered to do your job.” She rejected his condescending rational. Her aunt had never been afraid of anything, especially a Florida storm, which was a frequent occurrence this time of year. Now she knew why the man's voice gave her stomach the flutters. But, he wasn’t a bad-ass lawman, just an ass disguising himself as one. No parent had ever made her lose her patience so quickly.

     “I'll just drive up there myself,” she said and slammed the phone down.

     Was she overreacting? There'd been so many false alarms with Aunt Harriet.

     A whimpering shifted her attention to the small puppy cringing at her feet. She'd found the abandoned animal on the schoolyard last week, hair matted, and crawling with fleas. Once she got him cleaned up, Zero—so named after one of her students remarked on how much of nothing he looked—had a thick, soft white coat. Tuffs of hair flipped forward over big, pleading brown eyes. At the time, Karo hadn't thought about how closely the puppy’s name resembled her nickname, or how closely zero described her existence. Divorced, available, attractive women didn't stay home on Friday night grading papers?  But, she had become tired of the nightclub scene after being dragged along by her friend and fellow teacher, Linda Gaye, to several “hotspots” the first months after the divorce. Now the main things she looked forward to was seeing her students each morning, and taking Zero for a walk each night.

     She picked up and cuddled the bundle of fur against her chest. “It's okay, Zero, I'm not mad at you.”

     Aunt Harriet's birthday was Sunday, and Karo had planned to deliver the living birthday present. She'd packed in preparations to drive up to Altoona Bay in the morning, but already she had second thoughts about not keeping Zero. She had been looking forward to spending the weekend with her aunt, though, and she knew the puppy would have a better life at the Bay house with her aunt rather than being cooped up in a tiny apartment alone while Karo worked.

     It had been months since she’d made the trip to see Harriet, even though the drive was less than an hour and half away. Not her idea, but her aunt's. Suddenly Harriet had become too busy to spend time with her niece. That was so inconsistent with her normal reaction that Karo had planned this trip to be a surprise. Now more than ever, she wanted to know what was going on in Altoona Bay.

     She changed into a pair of jeans and a red cotton polo, secured her unruly blonde hair off her face with a pair of combs, and headed for her car. She tossed her suitcase into the trunk, put Zero in the passenger seat beside her and drove away in a reflective daze. What had her aunt done now?  

     She really couldn't blame the sheriff for thinking her silly to be so concerned about Harriet. To all outward appearances Aunt Harriet was intelligent and self-sufficient, yet she was also a ball of fire who often acted without thinking of the consequences.

  She recalled the time Harriet had gotten it into her head that she could repair a leak in the roof. Karo had been fourteen-years-old on summer vacation at the time. She'd always loved it at the bay and pleaded to stay there instead of accompanying her parents on their extended second honeymoon, a trip they never returned from.

     Harriet had slipped off the top rung of the ladder, landing in the hedges. She'd been lucky to come out of it with only a broken her leg and a few cuts and bruises. Not wanting anyone to think her a “foolish old broad”, she'd fabricated a story about falling in the tub, and sworn Karo to back her up. The truth got out anyway, since Harriet's nosy neighbor from across the bay had seen everything through her binoculars. The Widow Shaunessy did a lot of bay watching. She could name every boat that rode through the bay and describe the occupants in detail, but everyone knew her spyglasses were often trained on her neighbors, as well.

     She might learn more about her aunt's activities from Mrs. Shaunessy than she would Harriet. For the past few month whenever Karo mentioned driving up for a weekend, Harriet commented strangely,  “I might not be here, dear.”

     Karo swung her ancient Volvo onto I-4 heading west. Whether the Sheriff believed her or not, she had not mistaken the sound of fear in her aunt's voice. The note of desperation coming from the woman who'd raised her after her parents died in a plane crash was something entirely new to her.

     Rain lashed the car heavily as Karo drove into the storm rolling across Central Florida. Barely able to make out the dividing lines between the lanes now, she concentrated on keeping the taillights of the car ahead in sight. The cell phone ringing gave her a start.

     She let off the accelerator, and the taillights ahead faded in the distance. She searched out and found the faint white line to the right of the road, trying to keep her bearings as she jerked the phone off the seat and put it to her ear.

     “Aunt Harriet!” she screeched.

     There was silence on the other end for so long, she repeated, “Aunt Harriet, where are you?”

     “That's exactly what I'd like to know,” the now familiar man's voice said.

     She thought the sheriff could use some lessons on phone etiquette. Right now she was in no mood for formality, either. Her students would be appalled by the curse word that slipped out. “Dammit, sheriff, I'm in no mood for word games right now. What is going on?  Are you at my aunt's house?”

     “Have you heard anything more from Harriet?” he asked, seeming to ignore her questions altogether. In spite of his smoky voice, she visualized a pot-bellied lawman trying to keep his pad and pen from catching the rain pouring off his wide-brimmed hat.

     Just what was this Marlowe up to? she wondered. And more puzzling, how did he get her cell phone number? She was too worried about her aunt to split hairs over such matters now. “No, I haven't.”

     Karo veered left to miss a pothole and a truck's horn blared as he passed her on the inside lane. The phone fell between her legs. She retrieved and replaced the receiver to her ear just in time to hear a string of curses that made her swear word sound innocuous. A demand to know where she was came from Marlowe's end.

     “I'm here. I'm here. My phone slipped.”

     “Where the hell are you?” he asked again.

     She realized he meant literally and said, “On the Interstate, about five miles from the Altoona Bay Exit.”

     “Okay, I'll see you when you get to your aunt's house. I don't need anymore accidents to investigate tonight, so drive careful.”

     Accidents?  “Wait! Has Aunt Harriet been—”

     He hung up. “Damn you, Marlowe!”  

     She threw the cell phone down. It sailed by Zero and skidded off the seat onto the floorboard. Thankfully, the puppy was deep in doggy dreamland and not disturbed this time. She heard the casing on the phone crack and wished the connection were still open and pressed against Marlowe's hard head.

     For a man she'd never met, she had plenty of visuals to match his personality. A snarling bulldog face. A seven-foot mammoth with a barrel chest and a Marine haircut. A Wyatt Earp hopeful with a pair of six-shooters hanging off a potbelly. The images were briefly distracting, but she soon began to worry about her aunt once more. The sheriff said he'd see her when she got to her aunt's. And, his question about whether she'd heard from Harriet again, meant that Aunt Harriet wasn't home.  

     Kara realized he hadn't sounded as surly or dismissive as he had earlier. Just finding her aunt not home wouldn't have caused that change in demeanor. And if he was waiting for her to get there, he hadn't driven out there on another false alarm. Something must be very, very wrong.

    Chapter Two

     Karo raced toward the back yard where blue and red lights flashed brightly against the darkness. Spotlights lined the dock and reflected off a body bag atop a gurney. The worst images possible flitted through her mind.

     “Aunt Harriet,” she screamed and ducked beneath the yellow tape surrounding the grassy slope near the shore. A strong hand reached out and gripped her wrist. She was jerked to a sudden stop that caused her to stumble. She braced herself against a very hard chest.

     “Take it easy,” the drawling voice said, “it's not your aunt.”

     Karo pushed away from the sheriff and demanded, “Where is she? Is she in the guesthouse.” Every light in the small two-bedroom structure to the left and about forty feet closer to the shoreline than the main house was on. Men in uniforms and suits were walking back and forth to a crime scene van parked nearby. They carried satchels and briefcases, cameras and various other pieces of equipment used in their job.

     “No.” Marlowe said. “She isn't here.” He released her wrist, but cupped her elbow. “Do you want to take a look at the body, see if you can identify him?”

     Body! Him?  It began to sink in that the sheriff was telling her the truth. “Do I have to?”

     “No, it can wait,” he said. He swung her around and walked her up the incline toward the main house. “I need to ask you some questions. Let's get you in out of this damp air.”

     Karo had some questions of her own, but even though the rain had turned into a light drizzle, the wind whipping off the bay was making her shiver. Maybe she could think more clearly once she was in the safe harbor of her aunt's home. She glanced toward her car, but there was no sign that Zero had awakened. She'd left the driver's side window cracked, so he'd be okay where he was for the time being.

     She tossed a glance over her shoulder. If the body lying on the gurney wasn't her aunt, who was it?  That was the first question she asked when they reached the shelter of the screened porch.

     “I don't know,” Marlowe said. He took off his Stetson,  removed his rain slicker and hung them a nail hook by the back door.

     Karo started to reach above the doorframe to find the spare key, but Marlowe turned the knob and the door swung open. Her aunt never left the house unlocked. She almost called out for her, but it was obvious the sheriff had already been inside looking for Harriet, since he'd said she wasn't there. He flipped on the overhead kitchen light and she got her first good look at Sheriff Marlowe.

     Her preconceived ideas of him had been so far off the mark she almost laughed aloud. He was trim and fit, no beer belly or backwoods lawman look about him. His dark hair with a bit of gray peppering the sides was short but longer than the butch cut she'd imagined. In fact, he had an errant curl that must irate him to no end since he kept finger combing it back off his forehead. She guessed he must be pushing forty, and likely kept his athletic build by jogging or doing regular workouts in a gym

     He ordered Karoline to sit down. She was too tired to argue, and she didn't figure he'd answer her questions unless she followed his orders. He removed the paper towels from the holder and sat them on the table. “Here, use these to dry off.”

     She pulled out one of the ladder back chairs beside the round mahogany table, still scared with initials she'd carved into the surface during her rebellious phase shortly after losing her parents. Through it all, her aunt had remained kind, loving and patient, and eventually she had learned to forgive herself for not being with her parents when they died.

     She was jarred back to the present when a cupboard door banged shut. She wondered what the sheriff was looking for until he finally opened a canister on the countertop and an ah-ha look came over his face.  

     After patting the moisture off her face and arms, she got up and tossed the used paper towels in the trash, then went over and removed an herbal teabag from one of the smaller canisters. His clean scent of damp saltiness made her sway closer for a second breath, which threw her off guard. He'd just spent a good deal of time near the bay and in the rain, and the familiar scents shouldn't have caused such a stirring response in her. It was something that mingled with those familiar scents, though, something that sent out mixed signals of protection, possession and comfort that had her insides turning into liquid heat.

     She backed away and retrieved two mugs. Sliding one down next to the coffee maker for the sheriff to use, she held her breath until she'd eased away from him again. She filled the other mug with water, which she heated in the microwave.

     Marlowe lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. He got the coffee to brewing, then leaned against the counter and watched her carefully undo the individually wrapped teabag and dunk it several times in the cup of hot water. He asked, “You don't like coffee?”

     He fixed, dark blue gaze had an almost mesmerizing effect on her. She regain her senses and recalling his question, she answered, “I like coffee sometimes, but right now I need something a little more soothing.”

     The coffee maker popped and sizzled out it’s last drop into the carafe. She took a sip of tea and surveyed the sheriff's backside when he turned to fill his mug. He was only a head taller than her five-three, but with his every movement, gave testimony of his masculinity. Broad shoulder muscles bunched and rolled against the damp brown khaki uniform as he placed the carafe back on the warmer. With coffee mug in hand, he walked to the table with a lithe male stride and sat down. A nod of his head indicated she should do the same.

     She eased into the chair opposite him. When she realized he was grinning like a man who was used to women looking him over, she narrowed her eyes and brought them back the seriousness of the situation. “Is the victim a drowning accident?”  

     Somehow she wasn't surprised when he gave the same response as he had to her previous questions. “Don't know.”  

     “Perhaps I'm going about this all wrong, Sheriff Marlowe. What exactly do you know?”

     He smiled. Deep groves appeared around his eyes, the sign of a man who'd spent too much time in the sun. “I know the victim is male, age estimated between sixty to seventy. I know he died under conditions that appear suspicious. I know your aunt was here around the time, but has since left the premises. And I know I'd rather you called me Cliff instead of Sheriff.”

      He slipped the latter in as if it were a part of his report. She wasn't sure she wanted to be on a first name basis with the man, but avoided the issue for the moment. “What sort of suspicious circumstances?”

     “We'll discuss that later. What do you know about your aunt's recent activities?”

     He pulled a small notepad from his shirt pocket, so she realized the intimate “call me Cliff” phase of their conversation was over. “I don't know what you're getting at?”

     “Where she goes?  Who her friends are? That sort of thing will do for a start.”

     Karo didn't know much about her aunt's recent activities and guilt washed over her. She should have drove up here weeks ago when all the weirdness had started, even if her aunt hadn't wanted her to come.

     She told the Sheriff about social clubs her aunt belonged to, the church she had attended for as long as she could remember, the homeless shelter--a pet project of hers for years--and the people she'd helped when they had nowhere else to go. Karo gave him a list of her aunt's friends, the longtime ones…God knows who Harriet had been seeing or what she had been up to lately. “I'd like to start calling around to see if anyone knows where she might be.”

     The sheriff tucked his notepad back into his shirt pocket and stood. “I was about to suggest you do just that. And in case you can't catch up with her, if you would gather up any personal phone books, address books, appointment books, and such, it will save me some time later.” He tilted his head toward the back door. “While you check with her friends, I'll finish up outside.”

     Karo wasn't completely stupid. The time he was concerned about saving was from getting a search warrant. But, after she'd called around and exhausted the list of close friends she knew, all of whom either didn't answer their phone at this hour, were away from home, or knew nothing, she went into the den and started gathering the very items the sheriff wanted.

     Of course, she examined each item for clues to her aunt’s whereabouts. She didn't find anything unusual, other than some initials jotted on the desk calendar and three unfamiliar names on vouchers in her aunt's checkbook. The sums were extremely large and that bothered her, knowing how her aunt disliked dipping into her savings. Since the sheriff hadn't specifically asked for that item she shoved the checkbook to the back of the top desk drawer. She tore off the calendar page with the unknown initials and stuffed them in her shorts pocket.

     Until she knew exactly what sort of trouble her aunt was in, she wasn't going to share anything that she hadn't checked out first herself. She didn't think for a moment that her aunt had murdered the man they'd fished out of the bay, but Harriet must think she was somehow responsible. Why else wasn't she here answering all their questions?  

     I've done a terrible thing.  No matter how innocent those words, to a lawman, they might sound like a murder confession. But, her aunt wasn't one to run away from a bad situation. Unless...could she have been forced to do so?

     The thought was chilling, and one she anxiously shared with the sheriff when he came back inside with her suitcase in one hand and Zero snuggly tucked against his chest with his other.

Chapter Three

     “I'm not ruling out any possibilities at this point,” Cliff said. He laughed, as he ducked a lick in the face from Zero. “I found this little fellow in your car yapping his head off. I took the liberty of bringing in your suitcase, too.”

     He sat her suitcase and the puppy on the floor. Karo noted that Zero wasn't trembling like he usually did around strangers. She wanted to reprimand Cliff for searching her car without her consent, but knew it might make her look guilty of something if she did. A barking dog to draw his attention was one thing, but going through her trunk without asking seemed more invasive. Did he just guess that she'd come prepared to stay? Or did he search her trunk on the chance he'd find a clue to the case? She found it difficult to know if the sheriff had been searching for clues or just acting the gentleman

     Already busy helping himself to more coffee; he didn't seem to expect a thank you, so she didn't voice one. Karo had learned not to take things at face value. Her former husband had occasionally shown a chivalrous streak, too, but he'd only used it when he wanted to manipulate her in some way.

     Zero trotted over to the sheriff and lapped at the moisture on one of his boots. “I guess he's thirsty,” she said. She got two bowls from the cupboard and put water in one. Then she leaned down and unzipped the side pocket of her suitcase. She noticed the sheriff staring at her butt, and she quickly straightened with a foil packet of dog food she'd packed.

     Looking around for something to set the bowls on, she spotted an unopened newspaper that had been left beside the back door. She slipped it out of the plastic bag and noted it was yesterday's issue. Her aunt's habit of reading The Reviewer from front to back each morning, was another indication that something unusual occurred that day—or rather the day before. It was nearly three a.m. She spread out the front section to set the bowls on.

     After she emptied the packet, Zero's paws did a slip and slide tap dance across the linoleum floor to get to the bowls. He dove into the food the same way he did the first day she brought him home, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

     The sheriff seemed to find the animals antics amusing. His soft laughter making the coffee cup jiggle in the mug he had resting on his trim stomach. Sprawled back in the chair and his legs stretched out before him, his damp breeches molded to certain parts of his anatomy.

      Karo ripped her eyes away from the tempting view, turned and stared out the kitchen window. Only one light was on at the dock and it appeared the crime scene crew had packed up and left. “You mentioned other possibilities. What else is there to consider, Sheriff?”

     When he didn't answer, she whirled around and confronted him. “You can't be thinking Aunt Harriet had anything to do with that man's death.”

     His chair banged when the front two legs came down on the floor. He rose and moved within inches of where she stood, making her breath hang in her lungs longer than usual. Then with a lopsided smile inching across his lips, he leaned around her and dumped the remains of his coffee into the sink.

     She felt shocked and a little embarrassed that his nearness sent a frisson of awareness to sensitive areas of her body. She moved to the table, basically exchanging places with him when she sat down in his chair. What had come over her tonight? She wasn't normally attracted to authoritative or domineering men, especially ones like the sheriff, who exuded testosterone as if he splashed it on each morning like after shave lotion.

     While the sheriff refilled his cup, Karo chalked her strange reactions up to nothing more than the current worrisome events. It wasn't everyday a loved one went missing and a dead stranger popped up on her property. Fear and uncertainty caused all sorts of emotional instability.

     He was pouring another cup of coffee. It was a wonder the sheriff didn't have the shakes with all the coffee he drank. Was he relying on the caffeine to keep going? Earlier he’d mentioned a slew of accidents he’d had to investigate during the storm. He must have just hit the sack when she'd called him. She'd been awake all night, too, but at least she hadn't been caught out in a drenching rainstorm.

     “There are lots of possibilities,” he said, “but I don't think we need to speculate on all of them right now.” He frowned at the address book and day calendar she'd left on the table, shoving himself away from the counter and flipping through them briefly before he asked, “Is there a place where I can make a private phone call?”

     When she stared at the radiophone hanging from his belt, he said, “Dead battery.”

     There was a phone on the kitchen wall, but he said he wanted privacy. Did that mean he had a wife or a girlfriend to check in with back home?  It must be hell on his social life being pulled out of bed at all hours to look at dead bodies, whether from accidents or murder. His eyes seemed more sunken now, and dark circles were forming around them. Her heart softened and she pointed toward the hall.

     “There's a phone on the desk in the den. Down the hallway to your left.” She smiled when she saw Zero had found himself a bed on the rug in front of the back door. A full tummy and a little quiet was all it took to put him to sleep. She was getting pretty tired herself.

     It must have shown, for Cliff said, “I'll be getting out of your hair pretty soon. If you want to go to bed, I can lock up before I leave.”

     “A shower sounds very tempting right now.” It would probably do more to calm her than the tea had, too. “I'd like to ask you a couple more things before you go, though.”

     “Okay, take your time. I have more than one call to make and may be on the phone quiet awhile. Then I'll answer your questions if I can.”

     Karo was in the shower when she thought once again of the page she'd ripped from the desk calendar. She'd checked the initials against the names in the address book, and was about to go through the day planner when Cliff had come back inside.

     She hurried through her shower and donned a pair of short pajamas. For modesty's sake, she pulled on a chenille robe that belonged to her aunt, and transferred the calendar page from her jeans to the robe pocket. As she passed the den, she peeked in and saw the sheriff leaning against the desk. His back was turned toward the door and the phone was pressed to his ear.

     She interpreted that to mean he would be a while. In the kitchen, she scanned the day planner, but the only thing that came close to matching the initials HTL was on the phone list in the back for Holly Lanier. Holly had been one of the homeless people her aunt had taken in for a short while. Karo had met her briefly when Aunt Harriet and the girl stopped by her apartment while in Orlando on a shopping trip. Holly had just gotten at the local diner and needed new clothes. She'd earned a little money by doing housework for Harriet. But knowing her aunt, she imagined Harriet had been the one keeping house for Holly.

     What sort of contact had they maintained after Holly moved out? And, why would Aunt Harriet put Holly's initials on the calendar on the same day of the man's drowning?  Had the girl lost her job and called for another handout?   

     She glanced toward the hallway. Fearing Cliff would come back any minute, she flipped over the page she'd ripped from the desk calendar and quickly scratched the number for Holly Lanier on the back, then shoved the paper in her robe pocket.

     Karo was nervous about withholding evidence, but was it evidence? In any event, she felt it was very important that she find her aunt before the law did. To occupy her hands and mind, she got up and washed the cups they'd drank from. After dumping the dregs of coffee and washing the pot, she wondered if she shoud make another pot?  She decided her questions wouldn't keep Cliff around that long. Besides, he wouldn't get any sleep at all if he kept dosing himself with caffeine.

     It was getting easier to think of the sheriff by his first name, she realized, and wondered if that were good or bad.  She put the coffee pot back together and finished wiping down the kitchen counters. Calmer now, she looked at the clock above the stove. It was 3:45. Cliff had been in the den for much longer than she would have thought necessary. Maybe he wasn’t on the phone any longer.  Maybe was going through her aunt's things instead.

     Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. No wonder he suggested she should take her time in the shower. She marched down the hallway until she overheard him speaking.

     “Thanks, Greg. If your dive team could get out here first thing in the morning, I'd really appreciate it.”

     Her fury seeped away in an instant. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes to fight the sudden bout of nausea.

     Was there any reason to call in a dive team except to search the bay for another body?  While she took slow, deep breaths to keep from crying, a strong hand came to rest on her shoulder. He massaged her neck then stroked her back. It was a comforting touch, similar to way she'd treated Zero when he had a spell of the shivers. The stroking stopped sooner than she wanted it to. She turned and Cliff's intense, dark gaze once again held her in a trance. The longer the silence between them lingered, the more difficulty she had holding back the tears. He opened his arms and she slid into his embrace as if it were her God given right to be there.

     Cliff swore softly. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

     The endearment brought Karo to her senses. She pushed out of his arms, embarrassed by her moment of weakness. She found a tissue in her aunt’s robe pocket and used it to, dry her eyes. “I'm fine. You called for a dive team?”

     “Just routine when an incident occurs around water. We'll need to check the entire area for evidence, a weapon, items belonging to the victim—”

     “Another body,” she injected caustically. He'd been refreshingly honest all evening; she didn't want him glossing over the truth to save her sensibilities now. She shouldn't have worried that he would.

     “There is that possibility.”

     “One of those possibilities you were mulling over earlier.” She half smiled when he nodded.

     “It's a routine procedure when an unidentified body is found in water. The dive team will be looking for any suspicious objects, weapons or whatever. Although we won't know if there was a weapon until after the autopsy. I'm also hoping to find something belonging to the deceased. His pockets were empty and we couldn't find anything of a personal nature in the guesthouse.

     “What makes you think he was staying there?”

     “One of the neighbors witnessed the victim moving his stuff into the guesthouse about three weeks ago.”

     She said disbelieving. “It just doesn't make any sense that my aunt wouldn't have mentioned him—unless he was from the homeless shelter. She knew how I hated her taking strangers in the way she did. Was he around either time you came out here?”

     “No, he wasn't,” Cliff said. “But he could have been with her.”

     It would be just like Aunt Harriet to offer a job to someone from the homeless shelter where she's a volunteer. “Didn't the neighbor find out his name?”

     “No, and he said the man kept to himself in the guesthouse most of the time. The only time the neighbor saw him out was when he made a trek up to the main house, or the two drove off somewhere in your aunt‘s car.”

     Karo felt as if she were going to faint. It seemed her aunt had been keeping lots of secrets. If the man wasn't hired to work around the place, what was he to her aunt?  An old acquaintance in town for a few weeks?  But why keep him a secret. A lover? Had her aunt taken a lover?  No wonder she'd been reluctant to have Karo come for a visit.  

     “You never know what meaningful evidence a dive team might find.”

     She realized Cliff had continued to talk while her mind had been wandering. “I suppose you would know,” she said and smiled at him. He shocked her then by sticking two fingers into her robe pocket. He pulled until she came so close to him his breath fanned the hair on top of her head. A chill of excitement ran through her, but he obviously wasn't making a pass. He dug deeper into her right pocket and pulled out the page she'd ripped from her aunt's calendar earlier.

     “Oh, I was going to show you tha later,” she lied.

     “Yeah, well I'd rather sooner than later.” He scanned the pages and asked, “Do you know who these initials belong to?”

     “No.” She should have known the sheriff would notice the missing pages, but how did he know she'd taken them?

     He narrowed his dark glare, giving her a strong dose of psychological truth serum. “I'm sure you wouldn't lie to me about that, would you?  You wouldn't have some ulterior motive for hanging on to this?”

     “No, I'm not lying,” she said defensively, but didn't deny the latter accusation. It didn't matter, she had the initials memorized, anyway, and she silently repeated the phone number in hopes she wouldn't forget it before having a chance to jot it down again . She walked back into the kitchen and he followed. She avoided looking at him and took up her vigilant stare out the back window. Her aunt's car was in the carport. She'd seen it when they'd walked up from the lake.

     How did her aunt leave? She wondered if the boat was in the boathouse and thought about going down to check, but he'd probably already done that. “Is the skiff in the boathouse?”

     “Yes, it's there. Do you know who these initials belong to?”

     “I couldn't match the initials to anyone in Harriet's address book.” He'd figure out soon enough Holly Lanier was a close match to one of the entries, but she wasn't going to volunteer anything else, and thankfully he didn't ask about the phone number when he flipped the page over. She had no qualms about getting the woman up early, especially if it led her to her aunt's whereabouts. She mentally made a list: call Holly, search the guesthouse—maybe the sheriff's crew had missed something—go by the shelter.

     “Maybe they're not names,” he said. “Could be they're places where she had an appointment to meet someone.”

     She hadn't thought of that angle. He was sharing his ideas with her and it was foolish for her to hold back anything that would help Cliff solve the case. Should she tell him what her aunt had said? I've done a terrible thing.

     What good would it do?  It would only make her aunt appear guilty of murder, and Karo wouldn't do that. The sheriff's immediate concern would be identifying the victim. She wanted to know, too, but she was more interested in locating her aunt. Discovering whatever Harriet's relationship was and what they'd been up to over the last few weeks might help her and Cliff get what they wanted. She squinted and stared at a light across the bay as it flickered and went out. “Six O-clock news!”

     “What?” Cliff's head snapped away from the notes he'd been studying.

     “Widow Shaunessy. She's a bay watcher. Everyone calls her the six-o'clock-news because she usually knows everything that goes on around here before anyone else does and doesn’t waste time relaying it to anyone who'll listen.”

     Cliff yawned. He rose and gathered the paperwork. “I'll talk to her later this morning, right now I'd better get out of here so we can both get a little shuteye.”

     Zero lifted his head when the sheriff opened the back door, then satisfied all was well, he went back to sleep. Cliff said, “I don't trust your watchdog, so one of my deputies will be patrolling the area.”

     She didn't think she was in danger, and imagined he was sending the patrol to keep an eye out in case her aunt returned home. “Sheriff?”

     “Yeah?” He smothered another yawn and she almost felt sorry for keeping him one second longer than necessary.

     “Pick me up when you get ready to go see Mrs. Shaunessy.”

     He didn't commit to anything, just smiled and said,  “Good night, Karoline.”

     Chapter Four

     Karo woke to the sounds of slamming doors and male voices. Her bedroom was on the backside of the house, and listening to the scraping and splashing, it didn't take long to figure out the divers had arrived. The bedside clock told her she'd been to bed for only four hours, and during that time Karo had gotten little sleep. An old house made lots of noises. The wood tended to shrink and expand during temperature changes at night. Normally the popping and crackling wouldn't have bothered her, but the sounds last night had her jumping up to see if her aunt had returned.

     The sheriff had kept his word. During her last wakeful moments she'd watched a patrol car circle the drive, shining a spotlight over the house and dock. She'd slept much better after that.

     The phone rang and she rolled to the side of the bed and picked up the receiver.

     “Mrs. Newlander?”

     “She isn't here. This is her niece,” Karo said.

     The man identified himself as Brian Atwood, Harriet's yardman. “I just wanted to let her know I'm not feeling well and won't be over to mow today.”

     “What happened to Toby?” She remembered the high school kid had been mowing her aunt’s yard for the last few years.

     “College, I heard.” The man laughed.

     He didn't sound sick and Karo didn't laugh with him. During her five year marriage, Roger had planned so many social activities that she'd had little time left to keep abreast of Altoona Bay's residents, that included her Aunt Harriet, apparently. They had a lot of catching up to do and she wished her aunt were here right now to do it. She heard a splash and loud yell. She said, “I'll tell her you called.”

     She hung up and wiggled into a pair of white shorts, dug the first T-shirt she came to out of her bag and pulled it on. The words “Teachers do it by the book” were emblazoned across the front. There was a knock on the back door, and she grabbed up her canvas boat shoes and went to answer it. She wasn't surprised to find the Sheriff standing there. He gave her a once over that began at her head and stopped at her bare feet. Then he mumbled, “Good morning”, and stepped inside.

     “Good morning,” she said, “I heard one of the divers yell. Did they find anything?”

     “Cold water shock,” he said grumpily.

     She assumed he meant the diver had been yelling because of the water temperature. When he frowned it didn't take much to figure out he was staring at the empty coffee pot. She shrugged and sat down to slip on her shoes.

              He seemed to take the hint and started preparing the coffee himself. After he dumped several large spoonfuls of grounds into a clean filter and poured in the water, he simply stood watching the brown liquid slowly drip into the carafe. Some of her fellow teachers were grouchy until they hit the teacher's lounge for that first cup of coffee in the morning, so she excused his self-indulgent mood.

     Likely she'd get more information from him if she waited until the coffee was ready, so she excused herself and went back into her bedroom. She brushed her teeth, pulled her tawny hair into a ponytail and put on a touch of lipstick. A few strokes with an eyebrow pencil and she stepped back and gave her reflection a critical look. She usually took more care with her appearance, but she hated wearing makeup, something Roger constantly berated her for. “Go put your face on,” he'd say, adding, “In my profession, one needs to make a good impression at all times.” His profession was political aide to a county commissioner, an office that he aspired to have eventually on his way up the political ladder, so she supposed he was right.

     Since a sheriff was an elected official, she wondered if Cliff was as picky about how his lady-friend or lady-friends dressed. He didn't wear a wedding band, so she didn't think he was married, but of course, that didn't rule out a significant other.

     She made a face at her reflection. Even if she wanted to put on extra makeup, she hadn't brought any of the heavy-duty supplies with her. Lip-gloss and eyeliner would have to do. She stared down at her shirt.

     Did the silly message draw too much attention to her full breasts?  Linda had given her the T-Shirt for Christmas, and this was the first time she'd worn it. The sheriff's once over hadn't exactly given her looks a stamp of approval. She laughed at the silly, insecure self-image returning at such a moment. She had a lot more to worry about than what sheriff thought about her appearance? She stuffed the tail of the T-shirt into her shorts, smoothed the packing wrinkles out of the material, pursed her lips, kissed the air and said, “Take that, Cliff Marlowe.”

              Either he took it just fine, or the coffee he was sipping gave him the appreciative twinkle in his eyes. He lifted his cup. “Coffee? Or, do you prefer tea in the mornings, too?”  

     “Coffee is fine.”

     He surprised her when he filled a mug for her, then asked how she liked it.

     “Black is fine.”

     “Fine,” he said, and handed her the cup. About the time she realized he was mocking her, he caught her off guard by adding, “I like your T-shirt.”

     It seemed like an ambiguous remark, but the way he looked at her when he said it made her weak-kneed. She was still trying to decide if a “thank you” was in order when he lifted the pot in one hand, stuck a stack of Styrofoam cups—which he must have plundered through her aunt's cabinets to find—under one arm, took his cup in the other hand and said, “Would you open the door for me?  I promised Jake and his men fresh coffee. It was the only way I could entice him to put this job ahead of one he will actually make a profit on. County doesn't put much aside for this sort of thing, so it's scrape for scrap,” he said it so deadpan, she wasn't sure he'd meant it as a joke until he rewarded her with a lopsided smile. It was the first sign she'd seen he had a sense of humor. Of course, the current situation didn't give much opportunity for levity.

     “As a teacher, I can empathize with your predicament,” she said.

     “Thought you might.” He was halfway down the back steps when she realized Zero was missing. Then she saw him rollicking back and forth along the shoreline, barking at two divers hanging to the dock ladder examining something one of them held. He must have escaped when Cliff came in and set off to explore his new surroundings. The divers tossed the item onto the dock among several other things they must have retrieved from the bay.

              Cliff knelt to give the man sitting on the dock in a cup of coffee. Apparently Jake was the one who'd yelped from the cold-water plunge, for the two men still in the water wore dive suits while he was dressed only in swim trunks. With Cliff busy talking to the man, she decided this was as good a time as any to take a look inside the guesthouse. There was no crime scene tape warning her to stay out, so she didn't think it was off limits.

     She entered without being noticed and surveyed the mess from the foyer. Fingerprint dust and muddy floors, she'd expected, but the room looked like a hurricane had blown through. The sofa cushions were dumped on the floor and books from the wall shelf lay scattered about. Had the crime scene investigators gone to that extreme looking for clues?

     She walked through the two bedrooms, and found them in similar condition. The mattresses had been upturned and covers heaped into a pile in one corner. The strange thing was the dresser drawers and closet had been emptied. If the man had been staying at the guesthouse, where were his clothes? The drawers in the small kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar, had been opened and the contents appeared to have been disturbed. A half dozen champagne glasses, covered in fingerprint dust, were sitting on the drain beside the sink.

     The front door flew open and Karo jumped. Reminding herself she'd not done anything wrong, she turned and faced Cliff. “Find anything interesting, yet?”

     “Maybe. How about you?” he asked.

     “If the man was staying here, someone took his personal possessions,” she said.

     “Anything else?”

     “Nothing you don't already know about, I'm sure.” She nodded toward the wine glasses. “He must have had visitors before he died. I don't suppose there were any prints on them.”

     “Nope, they were clean. Maybe he was lazy and let the dishes pile up before washing them.”

     “If so, he was on a liquid diet. I was about to check the trash for an empty bottle.”

     “Don't bother.” He narrowed his eyes. “We're really not that incompetent, Ms. Becker.”

     “I never thought you were, Sheriff Marlowe. I'm just anxious to find my aunt.”

     “I know you are, Karo.” His tone softened. “The divers did find a wine bottle in the bay,” he offered as if to atone for his defensive attitude. “Hard to tell how long it's been there, but it was corked, so I sent it to the lab to have the contents checked.”

     “What have you got there?” She pointed at the waterlogged wallet he had in his hand.

     “The deceased's, I think. He'd aged a good deal since the driver's license picture was taken, but I'm pretty sure it's the same man.” Cliff eased the wallet open, careful not to do more damage to it and asked, “Do you recognize him?”

     “William H. Anderson,” Karo read and shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

     “I need a clean, dry surface to lay out the rest of the contents. Let's do it on the breakfast bar.”

     Karo moved to one of the stools opposite where he stood and he began pulling items from the pocket areas. Credit cards, business cards, and two pictures. One of a girl around five or six and another decked out in graduation attire that appeared to be the same person. The pictures were smudged, but she still recognized the young woman's face. “Holly Lanier.”

     “She works at the diner in town. You know her?”

     “I only met her once. Aunt Harriet let her stay here for a while until she could find work.”

     “From the shelter?”

     Karo nodded. “How did you know?”

     “I didn't, but I know the shelter only allows a three day stay at a time, and my sources told me that your aunt took some of the people in when their free time ran out.”

     “What sources?”

     “It's a small town. Word gets around.”

     “But not about how Mr. Anderson came to be here?”

     “No, but we'll ask Mrs. Shaunessy. Surely the six o'clock news has better sources than mine.”

     “Holly must know the man well for him to carry her picture around with him.”

     “I'll have one of my deputies go by and pick her up for questioning. In the meantime, we'll see what Mrs. Shaunessy can tell us.”

     ***

     They used the Princess K, christened with one of Harriet's pet name for her niece. Karo almost cried when Cliff helped her over the starboard side. It reminded her of all the pleasant days she and her aunt had spent fishing, traveling to neighbors' houses for a visit, or just cruising the bay.

     “You okay?  If you'd rather, we can take travel by car.” Cliff said.

     The man seemed to be have read her mind, a scary thought. “No, this will be quicker.”

     They traveled across the bay in relative silence, as if he were giving her time to indulge her memories. After they docked, Mrs. Shaunessy waited with the back screen door pushed open to admit them. Obviously she'd watched them cross the bay.

     She was at least eighty-plus and her step was much slower than Karo remembered. Her close cut silver-gray hair frizzed around her face, and she wore a yellow print tent dress that barely contained her short, round figure. She might be getting old, but her mind was sharp and her eyes, which matched her hair, widened with curiously as the lit on Cliff's badge.

     Karo knew their visit couldn't be too much of a surprise, since the woman was wearing her World War II binoculars like a necklace. The wide, thick lenses, on a clear day, could bring a frog on a piling into view across the bay. Karo knew because Mrs. Shaunessy had allowed her to take a peek after she'd argued that Mrs. Shaunessy couldn't possibly have seen her aunt fall off the roof. The six-o'clock-news made no bones about her habit of watching the bay, or her interest in the neighbors.  

     Karo introduced the sheriff and Mrs. Shaunessy led them through the kitchen, where the scent of fresh baked peanut butter cookies hung in the air. They traveled down a short hallway into the living room. The place looked the same as Karo remembered, paddle fans making a whoop, whoop, whooping sound, shelves filled with knickknacks and an antique sofa with large yellow flowers almost the same pattern as the elderly woman's dress. In spite of the clutter, the worn hardwood floors and the old-fashioned high ceilings with cobwebs in all the corners, the place had a homey atmosphere.

     Cliff didn't waste any time with informal chitchat. As soon as Mrs. Shaunessy sat down in the easy chair at an angle to the sofa, and Karo sat down on the sofa with him, he carefully lifted the driver's license from the paper evidence bag and showed it to Mrs. Shaunessy. “Do you recognize this man?”

     “Is he the one you all pulled outta the bay?”

     “Yes ma'am.”

     “Thought so,” she said, giving the mini-size photo a cursory glance. “The scoundrel. Sashayed around Harriet's place like he owned it. Reckon she's a sight better off not making it down the aisle with that one.”

     “What aisle?” Karo asked, not liking what the woman was implying. If her aunt had been romantically involved with anyone, she would have told her.

     “The wedding, Dearie. Don’t tell me you didn't know? I should have called you myself. Maybe you could have talked her out of it. God knows she wouldn't listen to nothing I had to say on the subject. No fool like an old fool, I say.” Mrs. Shaunessy spoke as if she weren't at least ten years older than her aunt. She smoothed out the fabric of her apron, avoiding Karo's eyes and that made her feel as low as the anchor on the Princess K. No doubt the six-o'clock-news would be broadcasting it was Karo's fault her aunt was in trouble. Guilt washed over her for she couldn't have agreed more.

     “How long had they been engaged,” Cliff asked.

     “No more'n a week or two, I think. Holly told me right after her daddy proposed. Excited as a ten-year-old, she was. Don't know why she cared, though, the man wasn't much of a father to her, if you ask me. Him with all that money and her living at that shelter when she first came to town. Well, she said she'd run away from home, but just didn't make no sense, seeing as how she made over him the way she did.”

     “Anderson was Holly Lanier's father?” Karo was getting dizzy from the sudden information dump, but it was her heart that was hurting. She could hardly fathom it, but Mrs. Shaunessy was talking as if her aunt had every indication of becoming senile. She vowed if she found Harriet alive and well, she'd never let her out of her sight again.

     “Yep, she introduced him to Harriet when he came to town looking for her. 'Love at first sight,' she said.” Mrs. Shaunessy snorted. “Sure didn't waste no time proposing that was for sure. Met one day, engaged the next, a week or so later the wedding was all planned.”

     Karo couldn't speak for the lump in her throat. Thankfully, the sheriff kept asking questions about the things she wanted to know. “When were they to be married?”

     “Yesterday. Holly said it was just for family.” She snorted again. “From the way he reacted when those three women showed up I'd bet my buckle they weren't close relatives, though. I'm sure they're strangers to the area, too.”

   Karo thought Mrs. Shaunessy was making it all up. Her aunt wouldn't plan to marry without telling her. Surely Aunt Harriet didn't think Karo would stand in the way of her happiness. “Did…do you know if the marriage took place or not?”

     “Didn't see no preacher, but Holly or Brian could of brought him after the storm rolled in. Couldn't see two feet in front of my face after that.

     “Brian Atwood? Aunt Harriet's yardman?” Karo asked.

     “Harriet's pet project. He did yard work for her off and on. But, she got him a job at the shelter, too. He's some sort of computer guru, Holly said. I think she had a crush on the boy. Guess the rain put a damper on the outdoor wedding Harriet had planned.”

     “How do you know Holly?” Cliff asked. He looked up after jotting notes onto a pad he'd taken from his shirt pocket.

     “She delivers prescriptions for Homer Davidson.”

     Davidson's Drugstore was the only pharmacy in the Altoona Bay area. One would have to drive over to the county seat in Caramel to find another. Since that was where the sheriff lived, she realized he wouldn't be real familiar with the residents of Altoona Bay.

     “Was she here recently?” Cliff asked.

              “Who? Holly or Harriet?”

     “Either one.”

     “You get to be my age, it's difficult to keep track. You want some coffee? Homemade peanut butter cookies? Best you ever tasted.”

     “No thanks,” Cliff said. Karo figured he must be in a real hurry to finish up the interview since he'd turned down a cup of coffee.

     “Can you tell me anything about the strangers?”

     “Not much. Just three women, all around Harriet's age, I reckon. They showed up while Anderson was barbequing something on the grill. Must have distracted him pretty good because he quit watching the meat and it caught on fire. Harriet put it out, but it was a waste of her time. It started raining about then and Anderson took off for the guesthouse. Every one of them gals followed.” Mrs. Shaunessy laughed and slapped her knee. “Didn't discourage them none when he tried to shut the door in their faces, either.” She chuckled some more, then suddenly sobered and said in a clipped tone,  “That's all I seen.”

     “Didn't you see what time anyone left? Was Holly—  “

     “I told you that's all I seen.” Mrs. Shaunessy cut Karo off. Her gaze darted around the room. The Six-O’clock-News must have been terribly disappointed when the storm cut her entertainment short.

     The only thing that kept Karo from continuing the interrogation was Cliff giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

     The gesture had not gone unnoticed by Mrs. Shaunessy. A slight smile twisted her lips sideways and she said, “Guess Harriet could'a told you more 'bout him.”

     Again Cliff squeezed Karo's hand to keep her from responding, obviously not caring what conclusions Mrs. Shaunessy drew from his action. The old woman wasn't being as talkative as usual, and Karo wondered why Cliff stopped her from saying anything about her aunt being missing.

     “It's clouding up,” he said. “We'd better get back across the bay before another thunderstorm starts.” He stood; his hand around her elbow left her no choice but to stand, as well.

     Karo started to object to their leaving, but Cliff pulled on her arm until they reached the back door. Mrs. Shaunessy followed.

     Karo frowned. She felt disappointed Mrs. Shaunessy couldn't give them more information. She'd hoped to find out where her aunt had gone, or who might have taken her away. “Mind if I use the restroom?”

     “Reckon you know where it is,” Mrs. Shaunessy said. “I'll say goodbye to you then and go take my mid-morning rest. Stop by sometime, Sheriff, when you've a mind to stay awhile.”

     Karo noted the invitation wasn't extended to her. She flounced down the hallway and disappeared into the restroom. While she was in there she yanked open the medicine cabinet and checked to see when Mrs. Shaunessy last had her prescriptions refilled.

     Chapter Five

              On the ride back across the bay, Karo stood at the passenger console. She liked the wind blowing in her face, even if it did wreak havoc with her ponytail. Cliff kept glancing over at her tanned legs, and she found she enjoyed the tiny twitch that dimpled his left cheek, as if he were fighting a smile of appreciation. She hadn't sought such masculine attention since her breakup with Roger, but she had to admit she wanted Cliff to be as attracted to her. Why? she hadn't figured out yet.  

              His radio beeped, distracting him. When they docked, he explained that the ME was waiting on him to view the autopsy.

     “I have to go into town for a few things, would you like to meet for lunch at the dinner?”

              “I don't know how long the autopsy will run, and then I have work to do. I might be able to break lose for dinner, though,” he said.

              How magnanimous, she thought. Perhaps she'd been mistaken about the mutual attraction. At any rate, it might be just as well he didn't want to meet her for lunch. Her priorities should be on finding her aunt, and she had people to see and places to go in her efforts.

     “Dinner,” she said, mulling it over. She really liked him, but maybe it was best if they kept any relationship on hold until she was certain her aunt hadn't broken any laws. She knew Harriet would never murder anyone, but her words still echoed in Karo's head. I've done a terrible thing…  

     She'd have to be cautious until she knew what her aunt had been referring to.

     “Dinner,” she repeated. “Give me a call.” She didn't want to seem too anxious to see him again. If her leads panned out, she might not be available, anyway.

     Karo made her way back to the house as Cliff drove away in his patrol car.

     She pulled the piece of paper with Holly's phone number on it and dialed. When there was no answer, she assumed Holly might be at work. But, the woman who answered the phone at the dinner said the girl was scheduled to come in for the lunch shift, which wasn't for another couple of hours. Karo would lunch alone at the diner, but that was okay, since she figured she'd get more information without the sheriff there, anyway.

     * * *

              Karo approached the man behind the desk at the homeless shelter holding Zero in her arms. The man had long ears, no hair and was hunched over an AARP Bulletin. She'd known him most of her life and always suspected Darrell Ford had a crush on her aunt. He looked over his wire-rimmed glasses and smiled. “Karo, honey, long time, no see.”

              Unoriginal sayings were his forte. Perhaps that's why her aunt had never found him interesting. “Hello, Mr. Ford.”

              “What'cha got there, an overgrown mouse?”  He laughed at his own joke and Zero didn't appear to be insulted. But that could be because he was getting scratched behind his ears and praised in baby-speak. “Yeah, yeah. Ain't you cute as a speckled pup.”

              Zero might be lapping up the attention, but Karo was anxious to get down to business. She decided not to beat around the bush—Mr. Ford had her thinking in clichés. She handed Zero over to the man to nuzzle against his extra large nose, and asked, “Have you seen Aunt Harriet?”

   He lifted his head and shoved Zero back into her arms. “She ain't been around in a month of Sundays.”

              Karo rubbed Zero's back to stop his whimpering over the sudden rejection. “Do you know where she might be?”

              “Harrumph!  Off somewhere with that new beau of hers, I reckon. Two peas in a pod.”

              “What beau?” Karo hoped Mrs. Shaunessy had been mistaken. But she had a dreadful feeling Mr. Ford was going to verify her aunt's betrothal.

              “Bill Anderson, the scoundrel. Pretended to be down and out, took food out of the mouths of the needy. Holly sent him over here when he got into town, so I didn't suspect anything at first. Harriet fell for him hook, line and sinker. Then we find out Anderson's bank account is bigger than Fort Knox.”

              “How did you find out?”

              “She got this anonymous call, and told Brian. He found her a private investigator over the Internet and urged her to have him checked out.” Mr. Ford's snort reminded her of the six-o'clock-news’s take on the situation. “Must not have been much of an investigator, though,” he continued. “When Anderson's stay here was up, she invited him to live at her place in the guest house with Holly.”

     “I thought Holly moved into town after she started work at the diner?”

     “Don't sound kosher, does it? Not like some long lost family members wanting to reunite. Anderson moves in, and she moves out. Harriet's failure to find out anything 'bout Anderson didn't satisfy me and Brian none, no sirree. So Brian did a little investigating of his own.”

     “Brian?” she asked. Mrs. Shaunessy only knew what Holly had told her, and Karo wanted to verify as much of the information she'd given them as possible.

     “Brian Attwood. Works on the computer mostly, setting up a database to keep track of the shelter's residents. He says too many people get lost in the shuffle and with the database it would make it easier for loved ones to find family members. He's sort of jack-of-all-trades around here, though. Best thing the committee ever did was to hire him. After he put all our records on computer, he wanted to stick around. He does odd jobs—  mowing, picking up trash, carrying out the garbage, fixing the plumbing, you name it. Johnny-on-the-spot whenever and wherever he's needed.”

     Brian sounded too good to be true. She already knew about the yard work he did for her aunt, but she didn't know how or when he'd come to be in Harriet's employ. “How did he know my aunt?”

     “He did a little yard work for Harriet when he first came to town. That's how he came to work here at the shelter. She recommended him to the committee. And you know how it goes.”

     “Huh?”

     “What Harriet wants Harriet gets in this here town.”

   Karo detected a touch of bitterness in Mr. Ford's tone. Maybe he was put out with her aunt because she found someone else more to her liking better than him. “So you and Brian found out about Anderson.”

     “Yep, it was easy. Brian just did a background check and ran a credit report on him. Found out he had three bank accounts and a condo on Daytona Beach. Had an arrest record, too, but was never convicted. Several women accused him of swindling them outta money. Since he was married to each one at the time, he got away with it. Bigamy and stupid women doesn't seem to be a top priority with the law. Good thing you're here to put a stop to her shennanigans. God knows what he might have gotten outta Harriet, the old fool.”

     Karo didn't agree. Nor did she know why he thought she'd come home to prevent a marriage, she hadn't known anything about in the first place. Even if she wanted to, she knew how easily even a savvy woman could be taken in by a smooth-talker. In spite of Ford and Mrs. Shaunessy's opinion, she knew her aunt was no fool. Maybe a little lonely, but sharp-witted and not one to be toyed with. “Did anyone tell Aunt Harriet all this?”

     “You bet. I told her soon as we learned about it. Told her he was leading her on, but she wouldn't listen. Said I was poking my nose in where it didn't belong. Then we got into it. Said if she wanted to know something, she'd find out for herself. I 'spect, being on the rich side herself, she can't see the forest for the trees.”

              In Darrell Ford rationale, that probably explained the two peas in a pod. “Well, you won't have to worry about Anderson, anymore, Mr. Ford.”

              “How come?”

              “He's dead.”

              Ford grinned like a possum.

     “Is Brian around?” she asked. “I'd like to ask him a few questions.”

     “No. He didn't show up this morning.” Ford's forehead furrowed in puzzlement. “Most times he calls if he's not coming in.”

     “He called for Aunt Harriet this morning and said he was sick.”

     Ford looked relieved. “Well that makes sense then. He probably thought Harriet would let someone know.”

     Karo wondered why he'd think that if Harriet hadn't spoken to him since their argument. Besides, if Brain was well enough to phone her aunt, he was well enough to call his boss at the shelter, too. She didn't know if there was any significance to this conversation, but if Brian was another one of her aunt's charity cases, he may know something. “Could I have Brian's number? I'd like to call him to see if he's heard from Aunt Harriet.”

     “Have you checked with Myrtle Baker?  Harriet might be there pissing and moaning over the loss of her lover.”

              Conjuring up pictures of her aunt with a lover weren't on her list of most enjoyable pastimes. Karo hadn't gotten an answer last night when she'd called Myrtle's house. But she didn't think it likely Harriet would run to Myrtle Baker for comfort. They hadn't spoken to each other in over three years. They'd been real tight before they'd sat together on the Altoona Bay Committee To Serve The Needy. If she remembered correctly, they'd had a falling out over who should manage Fallen Angels, the homeless shelter. The committee had built it mostly from donations, the rest Aunt Harriet had provided. The County had given a small amount to the project, but since her aunt had been the major contributor, she had more pull than Myrtle with the rest of the committee, and her candidate, Ford, had gotten the job. Since they were both on the outs with Mr. Ford right now, though, Harriet making up with Myrtle in her time of need might make some sense.

              “Thank you, Mr. Ford. Do you by chance have a phone number or address where I can reach Brian.”

     “Can't do it, Karo. Against policy to give out that kind of personal information.”

     She started to remind him she was the niece of the woman who was the shelter's main contributor, but decided to let it go. It was a small town, after all. Surely someone in town could tell her where Brian Attwood was staying. “Thank you, Mr. Ford. If you think of anything else, please give me a call.”

     She shifted Zero in her arms and wrote down her cell phone number on a pad on the desk. She stopped by the diner and learned that Holly hadn't shown up for her shift. Since her father had died, it was no surprise, but the girl wasn't at her apartment, either. After finishing off a salad and iced tea at the diner, she decided to pay a visit to the drugstore next. Myrtle lived out by Altoona Bay and she could stop there on her way back to Aunt Harriet's place.

     She thought the tight-lipped pharmacist, Homer Davidson, was about to open up and tell her when Holly had last picked up a prescription for the Six-O’clock-News when Sheriff Marlowe walked into the drugstore and put a stop to the inquisition.

     “Let's go over to the diner,” he said, taking her arm and steering her out the door. In a low gravelly voice he said, “Don't you know how dangerous it could be digging asking questions directly related to a murder investigation?  I ought to lock you up for safe keeping.”

     So Mr. Ford was in tight with the sheriff. She smiled sweetly and said, “You'd go to any extreme to get me in one of your cells, wouldn't you sheriff?  I don't see the harm in asking a few questions about the delivery of an old lady's medications.”

      “Even if the murder victim's was drugged shortly before his death with large quantities of benzodiazepine?”

     Karo barely smothered a gasp. She was just trying to find her aunt, not solve a murder. Her sixth sense told her that the missing girl would lead her to Harriet. Benzodiazepine was on one of the medicine bottle labels she'd noted in Mrs. Shaunessy's bathroom cabinet. Obviously the sheriff had already talked to Davidson about who he'd been dispensing that particular drug to, and Mrs. Shaunessy's name must have come up. Davidson had answered the phone a couple of times while Karo was questioning him. So that's how Cliff found out she was asking questions along the same line as he must have!

     She didn't know why he was upset with her. She wasn't trying to solve his case for him, merely trying to locate her aunt. And not for the first time, she wondered if her aunt wasn't hiding out on her own. So far, they'd found two other people missing, Holly and Brian Attwood. Brian could just be out sick, but it was very suspect that Holly would be missing the day after her father's death.

     “Don't you know how dangerous it can be poking your nose into a homicide investigation?”

     The sheriff was overreacting. It was a small town and people were always asking about other people in it. Why would anyone notice Karo asking a few innocent questions?

     She could almost hear his teeth grinding as he silently urged her across the street and into the diner. They found an empty booth near a back corner and he said, “When the waitress comes, order me a cheeseburger, no onions and heavy on the catsup. I'll be right back.”

     He walked down a narrow hallway and after a brief knock, disappeared behind a door marked “Management.” Karo could have told him that Holly hadn't shown up for work today and saved him the trouble. The manager would probably tell him about her call earlier to get that information.

     When the tall, lanky redhead, wearing a pink apron and comfortable looking white oxford shoes, walked over, Karo followed the Sheriff's instructions to the letter. She then looked at the woman's nametag and asked, “Marian, do you know Holly Lanier?”

     Chapter Six

              What Marian had told her was a surprise. Well, not all of what she said was a surprise. Mrs. Shaunessy had mentioned that Holly had a crush on Brian, she just hadn't mentioned they'd started living together, or that Myrtle was away on a month long cruise and that she'd hired Brian to housesit while she was away.

     Karo felt she had to act quickly, and felt no qualms about checking out the information on her own. If Aunt Harriet were with Atwood, then he wouldn't have had to call to tell her he was too sick to work that day. Unless, it was just a way to throw them off track, keep them away from Myrtles place. Could Aunt Harriet be there taking care of and consoling Holly after her father's death?  Could Brian be attempting to protect one or both women?  Holly would undoubtedly be in big trouble if she were involved in her father's scams.

     She borrowed a blank order ticket from the waitress and on the back she scribbled a note to the effect that she'd already had lunch and had another couple of errands to run. The latter was only a little lie. But, if her aunt was at Myrtle's place, she wanted to get there and talk to her before the sheriff found out.

     It was only after she'd almost reached Myrtle's place that she began to question the her decision not to tell the sheriff where she was going. Questions and doubts began eating at her now. Like, why hadn't Mr. Ford known Myrtle was out of town?  Had Myrtle not told anyone in town she was leaving? The waitress had only heard it from Holly who had seemed overjoyed to have free rent for a month. Ford had been right about one thing. If Holly's father was so rich, why hadn't he provided for her?  Anderson had been getting free rent, too, from Aunt Harriet?  Well in for a penny, she thought, and pulled onto the narrow shell driveway that led to Myrtle's house on the bay.

     She admired the two story wood frame house, pre-fifties architecture, much like most of the homes in the area. What a waste, she thought, that her aunt lived within half a mile of her old friend, yet hadn't spoken to her in over three years. Perhaps the death of her aunt's supposedly fiancé and the trouble her aunt perceived herself in now would help rekindle their friendship as Mr. Ford suggested. But, according to Marian the waitress, Myrtle left on a cruise to Mexico a week ago, a trip she and Aunt Harriet had started saving for years ago. A trip that Myrtle finally decided to take alone and hadn't told anyone about. Well, she had told Brian, so why hadn't he mentioned it to Ford?

     Zero had fallen asleep in the backseat. Karo pulled the car beneath a shade tree, cracked all the windows and left him there. The young man with dark circles under his eyes and a suspicious frown on his face answered the door.

     “Brian Attwood?” Karo asked.

     “Yes. What do you want?”  

     He less congenial in person than he'd been on the phone this morning. “Just my Aunt Harriet,” Karo said. “Is she here?”

     “Oh, shit,” he said and pulled a gun from his pocket.

     Karo definitely hadn't expected this. It seemed reasonable to her that since her aunt didn't leave in her car or boat, she may have walked to Myrtle's house and sought help from Brian, whom she'd helped in the past. Now she felt certain Harriet was here. She just wanted to talk to her and find out what was going on.

     “I didn't bring anyone with me.” But she wished now she had. He stepped around her and scanned the outside area. The gun made her very nervous. She'd made a terrible mistake in coming here alone. Would Cliff talk to Marian and find out what she had? Or, would he just eat his burger and go back to work? Forget about Karoline Becker, biggest nuiscense in the state as far as he was concerned.

     “Inside,” Brian ordered. He motioned for Karo to move past him, but her quick breathing seemed to have affected her reflexes. He poked her with the gun. “Are you sure no one followed you?”

     He scanned the area again as if he didn't believe her when she nodded. Another prod in the ribs with the tip of the hard metal got her feet to moving. The house was so dark, it took her several moments to get her bearings. An ill feeling came over her and awareness was creeping into her that Brian wasn't the good guy she'd first thought. “Where is my aunt?”

     “In the boathouse with the rest of them.”

     “The rest of them?”

     “You'll see. I wondered how long it would take you to get here after I told Holly to call Marian and tell her where we were staying.” He prodded her toward the back door and across the yard to the boathouse.

     “I told the sheriff where I was going.”

     “Liar,” he said. “You've been one step ahead of the sheriff all day. I followed you until you until I saw Marion giving you the information Holly fed her.”

     “Then you must have seen me write the note.”

     “Shut up and get inside.”

     He didn't want to believe her and the sheriff wouldn't follow her anyway, since no one in town but Marian knew that Myrtle was on vacation. That is, unless Marian told him. She hoped he would question the waitress, but he'd probably think he had all the information he needed about Holly from management.

     “Rummy!” she heard a familiar voice squeal as they approached the boathouse.

     “That makes five hands in a row, Harriet.”

     Several others chimed in with their agreement with the complainer.

     “Hasn't anyone ever told you that win or lose, it's how you play the game that counts.” Aunt Harriet laughed. “I only dealt one hand, anyway, so you can't accuse me of stacking the deck.”

     Several more snorts followed, but no one denied it.

     “What's wrong with those women?” Brian asked. “I'm gone half an hour and they're fighting over a stupid card game. This time tomorrow, it won't make a bit of difference who won, anyway.”

     Karo didn't want to think what he meant by that remark. He shoved the door open and pushed her inside so hard she fell to her knees. Four startled gazes landed on her at once, but no one moved to help her up. The four women around a wicker dinette table were all unfamiliar to her except Aunt Harriet.

     “Oh my, Karo dear, what are you doing here?” Harriet asked.

     “Been out bitch hunting, I see.”

     Karo turned toward the voice and saw the young woman curled up at one end of Myrtle's sofa with a paperback romance. There was so much irony in the title Holly Anderson was reading that Karo was tempted to laugh. Captive Hearts.

     “Shut up, Holly.” Brian really seemed to like telling women that, but men often commanded silence when they were out of control and at a loss for words themselves. Roger had been like that. For some reason, Karo didn't think Cliff would use suck tactics.

     Holly shrugged and went back to reading. Kari noted that Anderson's daughter didn't appear to be grieving over his death.

      On her hands and knees, Karo took stock of the five pairs of stocking covered legs beneath the table. No wonder none of them jumped to her recue. They were bound with yellow nylon rope, the same type used to tie up Aunt Harriet's skiff. The women's legs not only were tied together, but they were tied to each other, the long rope looping in and out of the chair legs, making it impossible for anyone to stand or move away from the table or get out of their chairs. All the women carried several extra pounds around the waist that would have made touching their ankles difficult, let alone reached to loosen the knots that held them captive.

     But, none seemed the worse for wear. A cup of tea in front of each and chips and dip were reachable in the table's center.

     “I told you to watch them, Holly, not provide them with entertainment,” Brain complained.

     Holly threw the book across the room, barely missing Brian's head but striking Karo on the arm. “Ouch.”

     Harriet started, but she was pulled back into her seat by the resistance of her bindings.

     “For goodness sake, Holly, you should be more careful,” the woman across from Aunt Harriet admonished.

     “Sorry, I meant to hit him,” Holly said.

     “Well, someone help her up,” Aunt Harriet demanded.

     Holly came over and helped Karo to her feet. After she finished brushing her off, she said, “What did the pig do, stuff you in the trunk?”

     Karo was uncertain in which direction Holly's loyalties lay. But, since she'd stood guard duty while Brian was out tracking her, surely she could have let the women go any time she wanted.

     “I didn't have to kidnap her.” Brian said defensively. “She came on her own.”

     “Would someone please tell me what is going on here?” Karo asked.

     Aunt Harriet burst lose first, “Anderson slipped and fell into the bay…” Another chimed in, “drunk as a skunk, wobbling all over the place...” The third woman's point of view, “Well he really didn't drink that much did he…”

          “Brian tried to save him,” Harriet got in the last word.

          “Well, why is everyone being held captive, if it was an accident?” Karo asked.

          “Oh it wasn't no accident and they know it,” Holly said and exchanged a glance with Brian.    “They're just as big a bunch of con artists as Pappy Anderson. Pretending ignorance, so they won't be sent to join him to that big scam game in the sky. He wasn't my real father, you know,” Holly said, changing the subject.

     “She doesn't need to know any of that,” Brian said.

     “You set up his victims, though, didn't you, Holly?” Karo asked. She didn't know whether to hate the girl or feel sorry for her. It must have been a difficult environment for a child to grow up in.

     As if she didn't hear either of them, Holly said, “He married my mother when I was ten. Then she died and he inherited everything, including me. He liked to live well, boarded me out to expensive schools until my mother's money ran out. Then one day, he came and got me and said, 'Holly my girl, I'm going to teach you how to play the game.'  He'd been a grifter all his life and didn't know any other way to live.

     “A man raising a little girl by himself pulls at the heartstrings of women; older, rich, lonely women, who can be easily parted from their cash for nothing more than a little flattery and lot of promises never meant to be kept. So we played the scam until I got too old to be cute and cuddly and in need of a mother. Then he said, 'It's all in the game, love. We'll just have to come up with a new way to play.”

     “Which you played very well, my dear,” Harriet praised, but Karo recognized the tone of sympathy behind her aunt's words.

     “Thank you, Mrs. Newlander. You were always my favorite, you know.”

     “Could you let us go now?” Harriet asked. “Vera has arthritis and her legs are going stiff.”

     “We should let them all go,” Brian said, and squatted beside the table to start working the knots loose.

     “NO!” Holly tapped Brain on the side of his head with a revolver that came out of nowhere. Karo realized she must have had it tucked into the back waistband of her jeans. Brian just sat back on his elbows. At first he reminded Karo of a mistreated puppy, but when Holly took her eyes off him, Karo saw something dark and dangerous in his expression.

     “Go get the skiff ready,” Holly continued ordering him about. “As soon as it gets dark, we'll be done once and for all with this mess.”

     “Since when did Myrtle own a skiff?” Karo asked, knowing the woman was afraid of being out on the water.

     “She doesn't.” Brian said. “I had to borrow Mrs. Newlander's.”

     “You'd better drive this one's car back over there before someone spots it.” Holly seemed to be running the show.

     Karo thought about Zero, but too late, Brian had already left. She could only hope that the puppy would wake up, or Brian would notice Zero sleeping on the backseat and would let him out.

     As quickly as her temper had flared Holly calmed and said smiling, “You are the wily one, Harriet, trying to pull a fast one on poor Brian. You know what a pushover he is.” She pressed the gun against Karo's temple. “But, if you don't behave yourself, it's going to be bye-bye niecey-pooh.”

     Something in the way Brian obeyed Holly didn't add up. Was he so in love that he'd commit murder for her?  And that was another matter, Karo still didn't understand. Who had murdered Anderson?  She was almost certain they wouldn't be going to all this trouble unless murder was involved?  Brain seemed like such a follower, and Aunt Harriet had said he'd tried to save Anderson. Why go to that trouble, just to turn around and push him back in? Holly had spoken with mixed feelings for her stepfather, and they'd obviously been making a lot of money as grifters. So why would she off her meal ticket?  Unless she thought she'd found a better one in Brian.

     Karo decided she didn't have a thing to lose by asking questions. “Why did you kill your stepfather?”

     When Holly smirked at her and her aunt sucked in her breath and began crying, Karo got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

     Chapter Seven

              “Oh, Karo, it was terrible,” Harriet said. “He was pretty upset over the way Holly was taking the failed scan. It was still raining, but he went out onto the dock to get away from her admonishments. I got an umbrella and followed, thinking to console him, but when he turned toward me he wobbled. I've never seen him so agry. He lashed out at me, but his foot slipped and he fell into the brink. The water was murky from all the rain. Brian did all he could, bless his heart.”

              “It was an accident, Aunt Harriet. Why didn't you call the sheriff?”

              Harriet cut a quick glance toward Holly. “I meant to, but I hit the wrong number on the speed dial and got you by mistake. Then the phone went dead and Holly followed me inside and insisted we couldn't stay there and do nothing. Brian said that maybe Myrtle's phone was working, and he drove us over here.”

              “I unplugged the phone, you dumb broad,” Holly yelled. “I'm a grifter, don't you get it? I couldn't let you call the sheriff until I got away from here.” Her voice quieted and she said almost childlike, “You know I need Pappy's money to survive.”

              “What about your inheritance, the condo, all those other bank accounts?” Karo asked.

     Holly cackled. Harriet sighed and said, “I guess Brian over exaggerated Bill's wealth.”

    “He always squandered every dime except for seed money to start another scam. That money was every dime we had. Every dime!” She yelled. Karo stepped forward and took the blow meant for her aunt. “Stupid, stupid, stupid bitches. Where's the money?  Where's the damn money?”

     Holly paced, but she didn't try to hit anyone again. And she didn't act rationally. Harriet rubbed Karo's injured shoulder and they exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing, Holly had serious mental problems, probably her father's death had pushed her over the edge.

     “It wasn't Anderson's money,” Harriet said, “and I've told you a hundred times that I don't have it anymore.”

              “You're lying through your teeth. You and Anderson pooled your accounts a week ago. He said he was making a withdrawal yesterday right before the wedding, so he'd be ready to light out as soon as the ceremony was over.”

              “If he had the money, why marry her at all?” Karo asked.

              “It was a matter of easing his conscience, wasn't it Holly.” Brian said, as he came back into the room carrying another length of yellow rope. Karo thought his voice sounded surprisingly bitter. “He thought giving the ladies his name was compensation for taking their life savings.”

  “You-you didn't actually marry him, did you?” Karo squeaked.

              “Of course not.” Harriet sniffed. “I hired the detective Brian recommended. He told me all about the scam Bill and Holly have been pulling on unsuspecting women for years.”

     Holly gasped. “Why, Brian?  I thought you were with me on this.”

     “I was, Holly, but just in a different way than you thought.” Brian took the gun from her lose fingers. “Pulling a scam on the scammers responsible for my mother's death seemed like the natural course to take.”

     Harriet said, “I asked the PI to track down all the wronged women he could find. Since women rarely report being fooled by such a scoundrel, there were only three or four he could find. One woman had died of a stroke three months after he wiped her out. Your mother?”

     Brian nodded. He rubbed Holly's cheek. “Don't fret about it, love. I'll get you away from here so you don't have to go to jail, just like I promised.”

              “The money,” Karo said to her aunt, “you divided it between them, didn't you?” She waved her arms to indicate the three other women sitting around the table. Her aunt was the most honest, generous person she'd ever known. Under those same circumstances most women would not have bothered to go that far to right a wrong.

              “I should have guessed,” Holly pouted.

     “Yes,” Harriet continued to explain, “I took Bill Anderson into my home, because I thought he was down and out and needed a helping hand. But I received the anonymous call telling me I was being deceived, and asked Brian what I should do, he looked up as much information he could find and recommended the PI. Brian obviously believed the same as Holly, I wouldn't let a man within ten miles of me unless he were a hardship case. Holly downplayed Bill's money situation so he could get his foot in the door, and Brain exaggerated Bill's wealth to try to discourage my getting involved. Or, maybe he wanted to give me a glimpse of what a liar William H. Anderson was. Of course, by then I'd really begun to like the guy. That's when Brian urged me to have an investigator check it out.

     Once Bill's financial situation was known, he  followed the same pattern he'd used before. He Suggested we open an account together and pool our money. I agreed then made a point of telling Amy—  you know the teller that I always deal with—  to let me know as soon as the deposits cleared. Anderson thought I was just being cautious, making sure he was the real deal. He never suspected that when she called a couple of days later. I immediately went to town and switched all the money back over to my original checking account. I had contacted all the women the investigator had tracked down, that is except that one poor dear, Helen A. Radford, who suffered a stroke and has since died.” She looked at Brian and said, “That was ten years ago, you must have been a mere child.”

     “Ten years old. I went back to live with my father afterward, but he'd started another family by then and I never felt comfortable there.”

     “I assume your mother married more than once. That would explain the name difference.”

     “Yes, but she was married only once to a deadbeat.”

     “Anyway,” Harriet said, getting back to her story. “I let Bill think everything was going as planned, and I invited Vera, Ann and Georgia to the house before the ceremony was to take place. They wanted to be there when I broke the news. Bill Anderson didn't have a record of violence, but Brian thought he should be there, too, just in case. As it turned out, he was right. At first Bill took it well. He laughed about it, even suggested we all have a glass of wine to toast the reverse scam. But, then Holly showed up. It was storming outside, but the thunder and lightening couldn't hold a candle to the uproar she caused. She didn't believe him when he told her what I'd done and she began ripping the place apart. Even took his luggage with her, after he drowned, just to make sure she hadn't missed anything.”

     So Brian had been there all along. But there were only five glasses in the sink, so he must have stayed out of sight in case Anderson recognized him. Or, he knew Holly had drugged the wine and refused to drink any. Karo didn't know how Mrs. Shaunessy had missed seeing Brian arrive, but she was bound to miss a few things. Even the six-o'clock-news couldn't have her eyes glued to a pair of binoculars twenty-four/seven.

     “Lord,” Holly threw up her hands, “deliver me from naive old broads. Men always hide something from you.”

     “Watch your mouth, young lady.” Harriet's warning only drew a snort of disgust from Holly. Karo thought the girl had been just as naïve. She'd been fooled by her lover, the man who helped Aunt Harriet carry out her scheme. But Brian's actions after Anderson's demise didn't make sense.

     Karo wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on and ignored Holly's lack of respect for her aunt. “If Brian was supposed to protect you, then why did he kidnap you?”

     A sharp laugh coming from Holly caused Karo to turn and say, “Apparently you know something Aunt Harriet doesn't.”

     “Knowing more than your aunt, wouldn't fill a thimble.”

     “Then suppose you enlighten us both.”

     “You all think I'm the one behind this little misadventure. Oh, I made mistakes, didn't calculate the dosage of the drug accurately. Pappy liked his booze, but Brain didn't tell me half the county was going to drink from that one bottle. Brian isn't the angel you think—”  

     Holly jumped when Brian slammed his hand on the table. He slapped the nylon rope against his thigh. There was a moment of intense glares exchanged between Brian and Holly, then he said, “The skiff is ready, get your stuff.”

     He spun Karo around and tied her hands behind her back. “You said you'd let us go,” Harriet said.

     “I keep my promises,” he said, “but your niece is going to be my insurance that you keep yours.”

     Karo looked at her aunt, waiting for an explanation. “I promised not to call the sheriff until tomorrow, so they'd have time to get away. Brian, Karo's word is as good as mine.”

     “And we know how backstabbing you can be, don't we, Harriet?” Holly said. She was busily refilling the ladies' tea cups and Karo had a sneaking suspicion it was laced with benzodiazepine. “If not for your suspicious mind and Brian's stupidity, we wouldn't be worried about the sheriff. Instead of leaving under the cover of darkness on a boat, we'd be catching a flight south and no one would be the wiser.”

     “I don't understand,” Harriet said quietly.

     “You don't need to. Come on,” Brian said. Karo gritted her teeth to keep from crying out with pain when he jerked on the rope binding her hands. They were leaving under the cover of darkness alright, but not from nightfall. Clouds had moved over the bay blocking out every smidgen of sunlight.

     * * *

              By the time they reached the boat lightening was streaking the sky and it began a drizzling rain. Brian shoved Karo onto the bench seat at the stern section of the boat. She stared at the water, now being speckled with a light sprinkling. She would jump overboard, but Holly sat down next to her. Brain handed the girl the 9mm, which Holly trained on Karo. Near the middle of the bay, Brian stopped the boat and put the engine on idle. Holly jumped up and yelled, “What's the matter?

     Karo didn't know how Brian could hear her over the clap of thunder that accompanied her words. Maybe he didn't. He seemed transfixed as he made his way to Holly and took the gun from her.

     “Time to get off,” he said? And then he shoved Holly over the side of the boat. A shriek filled the air as she plunged into the black depths and disappeared.

     “She told me she never learned to swim,” he said. How showed no sympathy or remorse when her head appeared and she started screaming and flapping at the water. Seemed like Holly wasn't the only one short a few screws. Karo couldn't help wondering how Brian would have turned out had his mother lived. A hurt that had been festering for years had turned a likeable young man into a murderer.

     Whitecaps broke across the surface as the wind and rain picked up. Even a good swimmer would have a difficult time staying afloat in this mess.

     He jerked Karo up by the arm, but instead of tossing her overboard, too, he pushed her to the forward section and gently settled her in the passenger seat beside the captain's chair.

     “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said.

     She didn't believe him, not when she could still hear Holly, gurgling and struggling to stay alive.

     He moved in front of the captain's chair and said, “I'll let you go when we reach Mexico.”

     Good Lord! The man had lost his senses. Boating that distance in a small craft, in bad weather. They could get lost …or capsize. The water in the bay was already churning and rough. What would it be like when they reached the open waters of the Gulf?

      Karo didn't want to find out. In that split second before he shoved the throttle forward, she made her decision and jumped up, throwing herself over the side into the dark, churning water.

     She kicked out of her shoes and fought her way to the surface. She could barely make out Holly's blonde head peeking over the waves about twenty feet away, and yelled out, “Holly, kick your feet and relax your upper body.”

     The woman didn't have the restraints Karo did, but she'd drown for sure if she didn't stop struggling. Karo leaned on her side and kicked herself nearer. She didn't dare get too close, for fear Holly would grab her and drown them both. “Just settle back and ride the waves, they'll eventually take you to shore.”

     Karo didn't know if that were true or not, but giving the girl some hope of survival couldn't hurt. When she saw her body float away, she didn't know if Holly had obeyed her commands or if she'd drowned.

     When the boat turned about a hundred meters in the distance, she appreciated the rain and cover of near darkness the heavy clouds gave her. Streaks of lightening lit up the sky, and she quickly sank beneath the surface, fearing Brian would spot her.

     She stayed down as long as she could, then relaxed, kicked and rose to the surface again. The boat was only a few yards away. Then she saw the spotlight come on and begin scanning the area. The rain seemed to have stopped almost as quickly as it started.

     Even though the dark clouds still hung over the area, she prayed the rain would return to give her more cover.

     She sank below the surface twice to avoid being seen. Her strength was being zapped quickly, and she didn't have the energy to avoid the spotlight a third time.

     “I didn't want to do it this way, Karoline,” Brian's voice echoed across the water.

     When a bullet spit water a foot away from her, she beat a hasty retreat, leaning to the side again and quickly kicking away from the center of light. She struggled to undo the rope, but soon gave up as it was making her use up what little energy she had left. The light zipped across the water and she sank below the surface again. As her body weight pulled her backward, she thought how easily it would be to just open her mouth and allow the water into her lungs. Then she heard the engine start and the boat speed away. Then the same rumbling sound came back toward her. Brain must be playing tricks on her, but it didn't matter, she couldn't stay down any longer, anyway.

     Karo began kicking again. Just when she thought she couldn't make it another second her head popped above the water and the spotlight hit her square in the face. She decided being shot was an easier way to go than drowning and she waited to die.

     There was a splash, like someone diving  into the water. She changed her mind, she wanted to live and she twisted and dove under too, to keep from being caught. She went down and down until her lungs felt as if they were about to burst. She could hear someone circling and repeatedly diving near her. How much longer could she avoid being seen. She had almost decided to give up and die, then fingers curled into her hair and pulled her to the surface. A strong arm came around her waist and held her tight.

     She just knew she was a goner until a familiar deep voice whispered into her ear, “I'm beginning to wonder if you're more trouble than you're worth, Ms. Becker.”

     She was lifted into waiting hands that pulled her onto a coast guard craft before real darkness overtook her.

* * *

     Karo woke up in her bed at Aunt Harriet's some time later. She felt warm, cozy, and tired. So tired she didn't want to open her eyes, but Sheriff Cliff Marlowe was an insistent man. He patted her on the face and said, “Time to wake up and face the music.”

     How cliché. She moaned and asked, “Are you some relation to Darrell Ford?”

     “Second cousin,” he said. “Here I made you some tea. Drink it.”

     She struggled to open her eyes. “Where is Aunt Harriet?”

     “Sleeping it off over at Myrtles place. Doctor Wilkins came out and checked the women. He said they were in fine shape, just groggy from a mild sedative.”

     “I suspected Holly put something in their tea to make sure they stayed put for long while after they left.”

     “Doc said you were okay, too, but I wanted to hear it from you.” Cliff frowned, making her laugh. Suddenly she realized how much she liked looking at his face, creased with too many sun-wrinkles around his eyes and forehead. Eyes so intense they took her breath away.

     “I'm fine,” she said. She sipped the tea as he lifted it to her lips and gave her little choice to do otherwise.

     All business as usual, he chastised her for going off on her own, then he explained that Brian confessed to murdering Anderson. Instead of jumping in to save Anderson, he'd held him under. Holly made it easy for him, since she drugged the old man, hoping to find the money and leave without him.”

     “I knew it must be something like that, since Brian found it so easy to push Holly overboard. Did they find her body?”

     “The coast guard picked her up. She was floating out to sea like driftwood with no place special to go.”

      “She's alive!”  Again he lifted the teacup to her lips, forcing another sip down her throat.

     “Yes, and in better shape than you were. I ought to wring your neck for going off on your own like that. You're just lucky I came by here looking for you. We had a dinner date, you know. Zero was yapping his head off locked up in your car and the skiff was gone.

     “How did you find me?”

     “Through the six-o'clock-news, of course. Mrs. Shaunessy was broadcastings the ‘goings on’ on this side of the bay all afternoon, until finally someone thought to notify the department, who in turn called me, who in turn called the coast guard. Thank god, we got to you in time. You could have died out there, you know?”

     For a moment Karo saw an expression in his eyes she'd never witnessed before, a dark, dangerous, protective look that she wasn't used to seeing in the men she had dated. Dated?  She must be delirious. He'd already told her she was more trouble than she was worth. Her brain was foggy, that was it. “What did you put in my tea?”  

     “Not any of Mrs. Shaunessy's medication, if that's what you're thinking. The doctor said you were just a little dehydrated and told me to get all the liquids in you I could. You were in the  water a long time, and it took a lot out of you. It might take two or three days to get all your strength back.”

     “No way! I've got school tomorrow!”

     Zero came bounding into the room. He jumped on top of the covers and gave Karo a face full of doggy kisses. Cliff sat down the teacup and lifted him in his arms. “Zero, you're wearing your mistress out.”

     “Aunt Harriet is his mistress. Zero's her birthday present.” Karo's eye misted over. She was going to miss Zero. And Zero wasn't the only one she was going to miss.

     “Are you sure you're okay?” Cliff asked.

     “Yes, like the doctor told you, I'm all worn out. A little rest is all I need.”

     “Then I'll let you get back to it,” Cliff said, “now that I know you're all right. Go back to sleep, darling. We can talk later.”

     Darling! Well, she had been thinking about finding a position near Altoona Bay. Maybe it was time she did something about it. But she had two more weeks to complete her current teacher contract. “Would you set the alarm for six?”

     “Sure, if that's what you want.”

     “Will you be here when I wake up,” Karo added groggily.

      Cliff chuckled, and as he lifted himself off the bed, she hoped she wasn't already dreaming when she heard him say, “As long as you want me.”

      It was a generalized statement, but Karo sensed that Cliff had not used it lightly. “I'm not, you know.” Her tongue felt like thick cotton and she was rolling her words like a drunk.

     “You're not what?” she could feel his breath on her cheek when he chuckled.

     “I'm not more trouble than I'm worth.”

     The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was his deep laughter, a whisper of a kiss on her cheek and him saying, “Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we Ms. Karoline Becker?”  

     In her semi-conscious state, she thought she heard him chuckle again, felt him gently kissed her cheek, felt him tucking the covers around her, felt his presence by her side until she fell into dreamland. And what wonderful dreams they were, too.

THE END

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