When Bobbie Sang the Blues (23 page)

“Oh, I forgot,” Dan said, reaching for the ice chest behind him. “The captain filled it with bottled water, soft drinks, and snacks. He’ll serve us dinner below—or out here, if we wish.”

“When you said pamper, you meant it, didn’t you?”

He grinned at her. “Yeah.” He popped a can of Coke, poured it into a chilled glass mug, and handed it to her. He did the same for himself. Then he opened a bag of sun-dried chips. For a while, they were content to feel the sun on their faces and sip their cold
drinks, watching sea gulls soar and swoop as though leading the way over the turquoise waters.

Christy turned in her seat and, with the cap shading her eyes, looked back at the small seaside town they were leaving behind. She allowed herself to believe she had abandoned her worries back at the marina and was sailing into the wild blue yonder without a care.

“I want to ask you something,” Dan said when the engine throttled down. A quiet peace settled over them as the sun climbed westward.

“Don’t get personal,” she teased, looking at the trail of gold across the water.

“It’s personal. You didn’t appear jealous or upset when you got to the Blues Club and saw me sitting beside another woman.”

Glad I fooled you
, she thought, grinning at him. “She didn’t look like your type.”

He rolled his eyes. “I hope not. And then, when we went on the picnic, I know you saw the compact, but you never said anything. You just hopped out without a good-bye kiss.”

“Your point being?”

“That maybe you just don’t care anymore.” How should she answer that? “I’m showing respect for your freedom.”

He crushed the Coke can in reply and tossed it into the trash bin. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve changed. Was it a conscious change or…do you not care? Well, maybe you just don’t care as much.”

She removed her sunglasses and looked into his eyes. “I don’t
know if I can afford to care as much,” she answered. “You need your freedom, but I need my sanity. I’ve told you it took me years to get over Chad’s death and build a new life for myself. Once I did, I vowed to protect myself against another heartbreak. That’s what I’m doing, Dan. Until we’re more sure if our relationship is right for both of us, I’m trying to keep a level head.”

He nodded. “Okay, fair enough. I like that you’re not so tense anymore or acting like you need something from me that I can’t give. At least, I thought I wasn’t ready to give it.”

“You’re not,” she said, pushing her sunglasses back over her eyes and staring ahead. “Look! I see a dolphin!”

She jumped up too suddenly and lost her balance, but he was right behind her, his strong arms clasping her waist as they leaned out over the deck. They stood close together, waiting, their eyes straining for the dolphin.

In the next moment, the dolphin came out of the water in a graceful leap, water glistening on its gray back. Then, with a simple elegant twist, it dove under again.

Christy and Dan watched in awe.

“There’s another one swimming close by,” he whispered, pointing.

She smiled.

The dolphins engaged in a playful, twisting dance before disappearing into the blue depths.

“Usually they travel in pods,” Dan said, “but I don’t see any others.” He shaded his eyes and scanned the water.

“We don’t need to see more,” Christy said, feeling the magic
spin around her. “That was perfect. Dan, thank you for renting the boat. I’m having a wonderful time.”

“So am I,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

In the next hour, a wind kicked up out in the Gulf, and Christy pulled on her sweater.

The captain appeared. “Excuse me. May I suggest you have dinner below? I think it’ll be more comfortable down there.”

“Good idea,” Dan said. He wrapped his arm around Christy’s shoulders as they went below deck to the private dining room, where a table had been set for them.

A young man appeared dressed neatly in a server’s uniform. “We’ve prepared lobster. I believe the captain said he spoke with you about the meal, sir?”

Dan nodded. “I told him we’d enjoy lobster.” He looked across the cozy table at Christy. “That okay with you?”

“More than okay. This is a fantastic treat.”

As expensive as lobster had become, she rarely dined on it. As the server delivered their meal, Christy knew this would be the one of the best meals of her life because the afternoon had been so special.

Goblets of lemon water were placed before them, followed by salad and bread.

“You did a wonderful job ordering this meal,” Christy said, looking at Dan.

“Thanks. I met the captain last week when I was over here wandering around.”

“My compliments to the chef—and to you. But Dan, you must
have spent a fortune renting the boat and ordering a lobster dinner! I really do appreciate it.” She squeezed his hand.

“My pleasure. I consider it a very good investment.”

The server appeared again, holding huge blue plates, and gently placed one before her. Slices of lemon, parsley, and drawn butter graced the plate of lobster.

“A meal like this deserves grace,” Christy said, and offered a quick one.

Their appetite had been whetted by fresh Gulf breezes and long spaces of quiet serenity as they lost themselves in the seascape surrounding them. The boat rocked lightly but not enough to affect their dinner. When they had finished and the dishes were removed from the table, the captain sent word that he had headed back to shore since the wind was gaining momentum.

“That’s fine with me,” Dan said to Christy. “I’m glad you don’t get seasick.”

“I never have, but that doesn’t mean I’m immune to it if a boat got too rocky.”

By the time they reached shore, the wind had died down again. Lights twinkled through the velvety darkness as the boat docked, and they climbed back onto the boardwalk. Christy felt weak-kneed. Even Dan needed to pause and stretch.

They walked in silence to her car, their souls bathed in contentment.

“So you’ll buy the boat?” she asked.

“Yes, if you come with me.”

“When I can,” she replied noncommittally. She turned to him.

“Thanks so much, Dan.” She didn’t tell him what she had learned from Donna. She simply stepped forward, put her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss he wasn’t likely to forget.

For one wonderful evening, they hadn’t talked about Bobbie or the blues she had cast upon them.

Wednesday

T
he phone rang somewhere in the depths of Christy’s dream. She rolled over and frowned at the clock. Seven thirty. She fumbled for the phone and breathed a sleepy hello.

“Good morning, Christy.” Bobbie’s voice sounded too cheerful for this early in the morning. “My moving van left Memphis early this morning, and I called Hornsby late yesterday to ask if he has another unit he’d rent me. I’d like to keep all my things in one place. It’s less hassle.”

Christy sat up against the pillow and rubbed her eyes, trying to follow the conversation.

“Naturally he’s reluctant to rent anything to me, but he said he’d rent to you. So…” Bobbie’s voice filled with apology.

“You want me to rent a unit?” Christy asked.

“Hornsby says the guy directly behind me vacated his ten-by-twenty yesterday,” Bobbie said. “I can have that one, but we’d have to put it in your name. Is that okay?”

Tony Panada had vacated his unit.
Interesting
, Christy thought.

Bobbie rushed on. “The moving van will come to my shop first, and after they unload here, I can send them out there to store the furniture for my house, as soon as I find one.”

“Okay,” Christy said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, thank you so much, sweetie. Talk to you later.”

Christy got dressed, putting on old jeans and a sweatshirt in keeping with renting a dusty storage unit. She dumped out the contents of her leather purse and filled up her tan, fringed slouch bag. She made sure she had her checkbook. Unlike Bobbie, she did not carry hundred dollar bills around.

She heard a car in the driveway and ran to the door. A weary-looking Seth trudged up the driveway. “I listened to your message when I got in, but it was late.”

“Glad I wasn’t depending on you,” she said, although she had completely forgotten the scare of Monday night.

“Hey, watch it. I’m dependable now. For your information, I was working last night.”

“Working?” She looked him over. His hair had been pulled into a ponytail, and he wore dark pants and a white shirt with the name of a popular restaurant stitched onto it. “Good for you,” she said. She hugged him and got a whiff of fried oil.

“Yeah, I got my old job back. I worked the evening shift last night, but I’m going in for the day shift today. Why’d you call? Anything wrong?” His brown eyes were tired but concerned.

“No. I ended up going on an evening cruise with Dan.”

Seth smiled. “Good.”

“Listen, I’m on an errand for Bobbie, and I’ve gotta run.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, I’m proud of you,” she called after him as he trotted back to his car.

She smiled as he roared off, then unlocked her car and hopped in. As she drove toward the storage units, her memory flashed back to the previous evening with Dan. The boat ride had done wonders for her nerves, and his generous gesture of renting the boat and ordering the fancy meal went a long way toward knocking down her resolve to keep a lid on her feelings. She was in love, and it felt good.

Christy slowed down as she reached the storage facility, noticing the freshly spread gravel in the parking area. She eased into the lot and coasted to a stop before the office.

Apprehension crawled over her at being forced back to the scene of the crime. Still, she had promised Bobbie, so she might as well get the job done.

The office door was open so Hornsby could have a clear view of his domain. Christy thought she saw him flinch as she stepped over the threshold. A contract lay atop the desk clutter, and Hornsby shook his dark head as she sat in the uncomfortable chair opposite him.

“I know, you wish you’d never seen us,” Christy said, “but just remember, I’m not responsible for other people’s actions.”

He made a barely audible humph as he glanced from the contract to her. “I understand
you
are renting a unit, and if anybody asks me, this is
your
stuff.”

“Okay,” she said lightly, making a mental note that Hornsby’s
arm could be easily twisted. She thought of something. “Who rented my aunt’s unit before she did?”

His head jerked up, the question catching him completely off guard. She could see he wasn’t a multitasker, in his work or in his thoughts.

“Why do you ask?” he shot back.

“I’m wondering if someone got their units mixed up.”

“Like maybe someone just happened to have the right key to your aunt’s padlock, and that someone dragged Bodine in there and killed him.”

He reached back and yanked open a drawer of his filing cabinet labeled Former Tenants. She could see he was determined to make a point, so she allowed him to sort through his alphabetized list until he found what he wanted.

He yanked a file out and waved it at her. “Miss Theola Winters, resident of Sunny View Nursing Home, stored her furniture here for three years. She died last month, and her daughter cleaned out the unit.” He plopped the file on the desk and arched a dark brow at Christy. “Now it’s possible that Miss T could have come back to haunt us, floated through the walls and—”

“Never mind,” Christy snapped. “Put Miss Theola back in her drawer, and may she rest in peace. It was just a theory. I’m here to pay you for the vacant unit behind Bobbie’s.”

“Good,” he said, heaving a sigh. “The only reason I’m doing this is because this mess has hurt my business and—”

“Hornsby, is this your only vacant unit?”

He hesitated, hating to concede the enjoyment of making his point.

“Then be glad you’re renting it quick and easy and that the only tenant you lost was Mr. Panada.” She paused. “Why did he move out in such a hurry?”

“It wasn’t in ‘such a hurry,’ as you put it. Mr. Panada got a special price for ordering a truckload of paper. Naturally, he couldn’t house it all in his printing office downtown, so he stored the extra boxes of paper here. He has a thriving business, and this week he needed the rest of the paper. Afterward, he had no use for the unit.”

She couldn’t argue with that, but her instincts told her something was off about Panada and his storage unit. Why didn’t he store the paper in a unit closer to his shop?

Hornsby clicked a ballpoint pen and handed her the contract.

“Before I sign, I’d like to see the unit,” Christy said.

For a moment, she watched him waver. He wanted to be sarcastic, but the money forced him to be polite.

“The moving van will be here today,” she continued, “and I just want to see how to arrange the furniture.”

“Fair enough,” he said, standing up. “Follow me.”

As they walked, Hornsby glanced sideways at her. “What’s your aunt planning to do now?” he asked. She noticed he had replaced the torn shorts with navy ones and his shirt looked fresh. He was ready for the press, if necessary, and no doubt he’d already spent countless hours being interviewed by the sheriff’s office.

“Bobbies working with her attorney,” she answered. “She’s telling him the truth about everything that happened from the time we rented this unit until the day Deputy Arnold interrupted her demonstration at the Red Hat club.”

“Demonstration?” he asked.

“She gave a speech, showing how she turns trash into treasure, items of junk into objects of beauty. She turned a back-porch post from my grandparents’ farm—paint-chipped and seemingly useless—into a stunning coatrack. In other words, she makes old things into useful things again.”

“Like turning a pickle barrel into a coffin.”

Christy stopped in her tracks, which happened to be in a puddle. She glared at him. “That was uncalled for,” she said in her meanest tone.

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t resist. At least I’m not calling the corpse a pretzel. The joke around town is that Bodine looked like a thrown-away pretzel and—”

“That does it!” Christy snapped. “I’m not renting this unit.”

He grabbed her arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. Considering all the pain I’ve been through, let me have the first laugh I’ve had all day.”

Christy looked coolly into his weary eyes, which seemed to have sunk a notch. “I don’t mind you having a laugh, but I don’t appreciate you having one at our expense.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you’ll answer a question for me.” They reached the backside of the units. “What is it?”

“When you went in that…that foul-smelling unit, did it look
like there had been a struggle?” Christy asked. “That maybe Bodine fought for his life?”

“Nope.” He scratched his head. “I could see the jack handle lying in the middle of the floor, but other than that, nothing looked out of place. When I followed the smell to the barrel…there he was.”

Christy grimaced at his explanation. “Hornsby.” He turned to her, and she faced him with her hands on her hips and a piercing gaze in her blue eyes. “Have you heard the theory that Bobbie was framed?”

He nodded. “I heard it. And I’ve been thinking about our conversation concerning those bookies being after him. Or some of their errand boys. I’m inclined to agree with you.” He sighed, glancing around to see who might be listening. An older man a safe distance away unloaded a couple of patio chairs from his truck. “That little woman just didn’t look like she’d do such a thing. I’d bet money she couldn’t have done it alone.”

Christy frowned, troubled by his words.

“Another thing,” Hornsby continued, on a roll now. “I pointed this out to the police. That padlock had a couple of fresh scratches around the lock. I know locks, and if I had to make a guess, I’d say someone either tried to pick the lock or actually did pick it.”

She smiled, cheered by the possibility. “Thanks, Hornsby. I’m starting to like you better all the time.”

They arrived at the open door of the unit Tony Panada had vacated. At first glance, the unit was clean and neat, identical to the one Bobbie had rented. Christy walked in, looking right and left.
Metal walls enclosed three sides, and the concrete floor looked clean. “He didn’t keep this unit long, did he?” she asked. “It looks as though it’s hardly been used.”

“No, he didn’t stay long. But I always sweep and spray the units after every occupant moves out.”

She nodded. It soon became clear why he had consented to rent this unit to her. The smell of heavy deodorizers drifted from Bobbie’s unit. She realized Hornsby must have worked overtime spraying the unit or had hired a professional outfit to do it.

Trying not to sneeze from the strong deodorizers, she glanced toward the end wall that separated the units. On the other side of that wall, Eddie Bodine had been murdered. If only walls could talk. Christy took a step forward, her mind replaying the horrible scene, and saw a hole. About four feet from the bottom of the wall was an irregular-shaped hole. It was old, she decided, seeing rust stains around it, and it looked as though it had been cut by some sort of instrument or tool.

“I don’t remember seeing that hole when we rented the other unit,” she said, pointing.

“You two didn’t stay in there long enough to see anything except the size,” Hornsby countered.

“What happened? Why is the hole there?”

Hornsby glanced at it. “Miss T, the woman who rented the other unit before your aunt, had it piled high with junk. Something poked that hole in the wall, but before I could patch it, Panada rented this one just as it was. Is it a problem now?” He looked at her, a hint of annoyance rising in his sharp gaze.

“No, not a problem,” she said. She leaned down to peer through the hole. She had a clear view of Bobbie’s other unit, and knowing what had taken place there gave her a chill. She straightened and turned to Hornsby.

He watched her carefully, a wary expression on his face, as though he was trying to read her mind. She decided not to tip her hand.

“The hole won’t be a problem. We can just push furniture up against it.” She clapped her hands together, ridding them of dust. “Okay, lets sign that contract, and I’ll write you a check.”

Hornsby nodded. “I’ll leave these metal doors open to air it out.”

She could almost hear his covert sigh of relief as they walked outside.

Once she’d signed the contract and written the check, she snapped her fingers as though remembering something. “I need to see where to place that king-size bed and dresser. I think there’s enough room,” she said innocently, “but I don’t want to waste time when we’re paying those moving guys by the hour.”

“Yeah.” Hornsby chuckled, sticking the check in a drawer. “They’ll want to get in as many hours as they can. It’s best to be prepared.”

She sauntered back to her newly rented unit and walked straight to the back. She leaned over and peered into the hole again, taking more time to look things over. She had a perfect view into Bobbie’s
unit. The pickle barrel was gone—she hoped never to see it again, though she would probably see pieces of it in court, if her aunt’s case came to trial.

Had Panada made the most of this odd hole? Had he heard the rumor of Bobbie stealing money from Eddie? Was he trying to figure out where she might hide it? Christy straightened, her eyes wide.

Surely the police had seen the hole. While they had checked out all the units, they had shown a particular interest in this one. Now she knew why. She felt certain Panada had been questioned about the mysterious hole.