Perils of a Pregnant Sleuth by Dershie McDevitt

Author:Dershie McDevitt [McDevitt, Dershie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647046088
Publisher: Bublish, Inc.
Published: 2022-08-17T20:47:34+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Tuesday, January 18

Callahan feels almost giddy as she walks toward the nine-thirty ferry this brisk, sunny morning. A gull squawks, protesting, and flies off the end of the dock. Pepper was in such a hurry to meet Teelia after breakfast at Twelve Oaks that he must have forgotten Callahan’s obstetrical appointment.

And I wasn’t about to remind him. It’s a relief to get away from everybody on this island, including Pepper. He’s made a big deal about coming to my appointments every other time, so Teelia must be quite the distraction.

Captain Rick is already behind the wheel of the ferryboat when she walks down the swaying dock and stops by the rear passenger door of the boat. The Aggie Gray is straining at its cleats in the wake of a passing motorboat, but Callahan leaps safely over a foot of watery distance between dock and boat and holds to the doorjamb till the sea calms. The boat’s rectangular passenger section, rimmed with half windows and new seats on both sides, smells of paint and new leather. Relieved to see no one else, she settles on an outside bench midcabin, wedges her large purse between her back and the wall, and opens a new Ian McEwan novel.

Just when I think this backache is gone, there it is again.

Callahan’s already deep into her book when the boat captain tells the mate to cast off, but the too-sweet smell of a man’s aftershave alerts her to a last-minute passenger who’s stepped into the cabin.

Darn.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Banks.” The mouth of the short, slightly built man twists into a smile, but there’s no warmth in his flat, brown eyes. The boat belches diesel smells as it leaves the dock, momentarily upsetting her stomach. Robbie Pasquini doesn’t sit down at the back of the cabin but steadies himself between seats and walks to the bench directly across from her.

So much for uninterrupted reading time.

“I keep hearing about you from Irene.”

Callahan nods to him.

I feel like I know this man because Irene talks about him so much, but I don’t think I’ve spoken three words to him. He sounds like a film noire gangster.

He places a black leather dop kit and a New York Times on the bench and sits down. The scent of tobacco smoke permeates his clothes. “She tells me that you are a close observer of nature, both human and otherwise. Sooo…”

Again, there’s that twisted smile on his sallow face. He looks dissipated in the way a stray animal does, and his comb-over is beyond ludicrous.

“…here’s your big chance, kiddo. Show me your detective chops.”

Kiddo? Chops? He’s demeaning me.

“Who are you picking for the murderer on our special little island?” His eyes bore into her over the top of sleek, rimless glasses.

He was probably sexy in a dark, Italian way when he was younger, but what can Irene see in him now?

The skin of his right index finger is stained brownish yellow. His voice isn’t belittling but cynical when he next speaks.

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