Anchors Away and Murder by Patti Larsen

Author:Patti Larsen [Larsen, Patti]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mayhem and Murder Ink
Published: 2018-02-27T23:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twenty One

Heather Parborough nodded to me, clearly nervous. “Hi, Fee. Sorry to be coming in so late.” It really wasn’t that late, only about 10PM. Her anxiety reminded me I’d caught her sneaking out of Lester’s office, hadn’t I?

“No problem, Heather,” I said. “Can I offer you anything?” We’d had coffee enough times in the past surely it didn’t sound like too fishing of a question.

She hesitated, like she wanted to take me up on my offer, but shook her head. “Thanks. It’s been a long day. Just going to get some sleep.”

I spoke up quickly before she could head for the stairs. “A shame about Lester,” I said. “They still don’t know what happened to him.” Wow, was that a flinch of guilt? Sure looked like it. “I know you two worked closely together to build interest in the marina.” Okay, I was guessing, but she nodded so my guessing paid off. “I hope his loss won’t mean trouble for you and your business.”

She swallowed hard, gaze flickering to the stairs and retreat before she shrugged. Something was obviously weighing on her. Was it his death? Or whatever she’d been up to in his private office the day he died? “It definitely complicates things,” she said. “Paperwork, that sort of business. You know.” Like her vague answer should offer the kind of information I was looking for.

“I get it,” I said, trying for an easy grin and rewarded when she seemed to relax somewhat. “Can’t be easy, your job. Selling those big, expensive boats. Especially in such a small marina.”

She paled, so ghostly white I actually took a step toward her, one hand extended in concern before I could stop myself. She recovered quickly, but not nearly fast enough.

“You work for a small boat company, don’t you?” Idle chitchat to fill the moment between her horrified response to my seemingly innocuous comment and her next inhale. At least, I hoped she thought that was all I was asking. Otherwise she’d be clamming up before I got another thing out of her.

Her faint grimace at the question made me pause. It was a straight forward enough inquiry and shouldn’t have elicited such a response. Unless, of course, she had something to hide about her employment.

“Yes, that’s right,” Heather said, slightly breathless now, not meeting my eyes any longer, a faint flush hitting her high cheekbones. “Buckley’s Marine out of Boston.”

“I guess your bosses will be worried about the rest of the season’s sales.” Come to think of it, it was August. Why was she still here? She’d been hanging around for over a month, hadn’t she? I wasn’t an expert or anything, but wouldn’t selling boats be more an early summer kind of thing? And surely this was a tiny market for her to be putting in so much attention. A sneaking feeling of more to the story that had nothing to do with her guilty reaction made me pause and wonder just what kind of relationship she might have with the deceased yacht club president.

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