Poisoned by the Pier by Ellen Jacobson

Author:Ellen Jacobson [Ellen Jacobson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ellen Jacobson
Published: 2020-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

11

COCONUT CARL

“Hey, take it easy,” Scooter said as I embraced him. “You’re squeezing the stuffing out of me.”

I stepped back and stared into his dark-brown puppy-dog eyes. “Sorry, you’re not going to get off that easy. I thought I had lost you when the boats collided. I need at least one more hug.”

He chuckled as he pulled me into his arms. “I’m okay,” he whispered into my ear before giving me a kiss. A piercing yowl interrupted our tender moment.

“I’m not the only one who needs some reassurance,” I said.

Scooter scooped up Mrs. Moto and gave her a cuddle. “I heard you went racing,” he said to the calico. “The first feline member of the Pretty in Pink crew. I hope you got a T-shirt.”

I smiled at the thought of her sporting a cat-sized pink top. After stroking her head, I gave Scooter an appraising look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely fine. Not even a scratch.” Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for everyone else. One of the crew members on The Codfather II had broken an arm, and a couple of guys on Naut Guilty had some pretty serious cuts, bumps, and bruises.

Both boats had limped back to the marina after the injured men had been taken off by the rescue boat. The paint on Naut Guilty’s hull was scraped off where The Codfather II had smashed into her, and the fiberglass underneath was in bad shape. The deck was even worse. The Codfather II had suffered serious damage as well—her bowsprit had been torn off, her forestay had been detached, and her mast was hanging at a precarious angle. Even if you didn’t know what a bowsprit and forestay were, one look at the sailboat would have been enough to convince you that there was going to be a hefty repair bill.

The uninjured crew members and race spectators had gathered at the marina patio. Everyone was buzzing about what had happened and who was to blame. The crowd was divided into two camps—those who thought Norm was a reckless skipper and those who thought he had just done what it took to win the race and admired him for it. Norm, of course, was basking in the attention, posing for photographs and signing people up for his campaign mailing list.

In contrast, Mike was pacing back and forth along the boardwalk, his phone pressed against his ear. “I wonder what’s going on,” I said.

“I think he’s talking to his insurance agent,” Scooter said. “It’s going to cost a pretty penny to fix his boat.” He set Mrs. Moto on the ground. “Everyone is heading over to the Tipsy Pirate for the awards ceremony.”

“Is that still on? They halted the race when the accident happened.” I rubbed my temples. I could feel a headache coming on. My lack of sleep was catching up with me. “Did you know that some folks are actually complaining that the race was stopped? Apparently, real racers don’t stop for anything.”

“I guess they do things differently in Coconut Cove.

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