A Killing by the Sea by Kathleen Bridge

Author:Kathleen Bridge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-05-24T21:42:53+00:00

Chapter 17

“You wouldn’t believe what hard work fishing is,” Ryan said over the phone, as she made her way back to the Indialantic. He yawned. “Getting up at four a.m. was the easiest part of it. The good news is, I feel I’ll be able to fake it pretty well when I show up for my shift on the Poseidon tomorrow.”

“Wow. You’re a fast learner.”

“Earl’s a great teacher. He knows the captain of the Poseidon. He’s called Captain Ahab. I was afraid to ask way. But because of the threatening weather pattern heading our way, it’ll be a short trip. Saved by the threat of a hurricane,” he said, adding another yawn. “Hey, do you want me to swing by? I have one more stop to make: the harbormaster. I want to find out who owns Poseidon.”

“A good idea. I’m sure Charlotte knows, but as of now, she’s not even sharing info with her boyfriend. My father seems pretty sure she’s close to finding Dylan’s killer.”

“I’ll give her a call later, see if I can glean anything new. It’s okay to share some things we know to get reciprocal info, right?”

“Of course, if Charlotte does reciprocate.” Jealousy reared its green head, and Liz stomped it out with her next words. “The more we know, the better. I’m headed to the Indialantic. Jake is scheduled to stop by, and I plan to grill him like Grand-Pierre did yesterday’s grouper.”

“Speaking of grouper, did you know that a goliath grouper can weigh up to four hundred pounds?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “You sound excited. Am I going to lose you to a life on the open sea?”

“I didn’t know you had me.”

There was a moment of silence, which Ryan broke. “Sure you don’t want me to swing by to pick you up? I can tell you more fish tales.”

“I’d love that, but I don’t think you want to run into Jake, especially if you’re planning on going on Poseidon tomorrow incognito.”

“True. I’ll see you later, then. Text me when the coast is clear.”

“Will do. And text me when you find out who owns Poseidon.” She’d almost added a “Love you,” at the end of the conversation. Not a love you; more of a you-mean-a-lot-to-me, let’s-see-where-we’re-going type of endearment. She was a writer, but she couldn’t think of another word to convey her feelings for Ryan. She pocketed her phone and took the path at the back of the hotel that swung around to the south-side kitchen entrance and walked inside.

“Lizzie,” Pierre said. “You just missed Dylan’s friend. A nice-enough young lad, but he brought all the wrong things for Amelia’s pirate picnic. Shall I go to Honest John’s to see what I can find?”

She went to the table where the chef was sitting with his feet up on a chair, The A.B.C. Murders splayed open and facedown in front of him. “No need to, Grand-Pierre, I have a feeling Pirates’ Weekend will be postponed because of the approaching storm. We can worry about the food tomorrow.

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