Deceived (20 page)

Chapter fifty

After Sam stowed his provisions and tied down the dinghy on the forward deck, he fired up
Angel
’s engine. Unhooking his line from the mooring ball, he checked the current. At this speed, he’d make it back to Carolina Beach in time to catch a transient slip at his old marina.

The afternoon’s trip gave Sam time to think, time to plan. It was the first time in four years he had opened a chart book to plot his course to Norfolk. Seeing the contours of shoreline and depths charted on paper revived his hope of cruising.

Disappointed that Molly had so flatly turned down his invitation to go sailing, Sam paused when he realized it had been about as vague a proposition as he’d made in recent history. Molly was different. Something stirred inside when he thought about her and about what possibilities might be ahead for both of them. Sam actually thought about attempting a relationship—a good, solid one—with Molly…if she were interested, that is. So far, he couldn’t quite tell.

While tying
Angel
alongside a long unsheltered transient dock at the edge of the marina, Sam was pleased to see the docks were fairly empty. No sign of the squirt of a dockmaster anywhere, making sliding into the marina unnoticed (and unaccounted for) all that much sweeter.

Sam showered in the dockside bathhouse, reveling in the hot water that flowed over his tanned body. The past few months had been a time for answering far too many questions during the investigation. Yet he’d had enough time to take
Angel
out, including taking the boat on one “shakedown” run to Bald Head Island where he had walked to the top of the lighthouse for the fantastic view. Sam had rented a golf cart and toured the island—all of it. When it was over, he pondered what difference that simple ride might have made with his ex-wife. Maybe something, or maybe nothing at all. Either way, when he returned to a cold beer on his boat, he felt relieved to be free of that relationship so he could focus on something new…perhaps with Molly, he pondered.

When he was shaved and dressed, Sam walked the few blocks to Jenny’s condo in the sticky heat of August with a cooler in hand. In a few more weeks, all signs of visiting tourists would disappear. In a few more weeks, the humidity would disappear, too.

. . .

“I got some steaks for us, Hoops. And I’m bringing friends.” Sam spoke into his phone from the quiet of Jenny’s porch. A few roasted beach-goers lingered on the sand in the late afternoon sun.

“Great! You need a ride?”

“No, I’m set. You ready for company?”

“You bet, Sam-Man. Come anytime. I got a few guys here already, so we’ll have a nice crowd. I’ll fire up the grill and get the fixings.”

Sam, Jenny, and Molly took the Mustang to Hoops’ house two miles away in Kure Beach, a continuation of the spit of sand on which Carolina Beach sits. A dozen or so people milled around the sound-side patio, beers in hand. Sam noted a mix of Coasties and others there, and he wished he’d bought more food.

There was plenty, as it seemed to be a potluck affair. Sam chatted with almost everyone, then breezed toward a quiet Molly, sitting in a corner like a dejected high schooler at a dance.

“Everything all right?” Sam offered her a Yuengling.

“Fine.” Molly didn’t smile, but she took the beer. “Thanks.”

Sam plunged ahead. “What’s the plan?”

“Plan?”

“Where do we go from here?”

“We?” Molly brightened. “I thought you didn’t want a partner.”

“I didn’t think I did. But now I’m not so sure.” Sam gave Molly his best smile, hoping she’d get what he was trying to say.

“Well, when you figure it out, you let me know.” Molly got up and smoothed her skirt, one she borrowed from Jenny since all of her things were mud-encased or mildewed from
Hullabaloo
’s sinking. Now toe to toe with Sam, she whispered, “Partner.”

Sam stepped back, no longer sure of what he’d unleashed. “I just thought maybe we might go sailing or something. I’m heading up to Norfolk to see my son, and I thought when I come back—”

“I probably won’t be here,” Molly interrupted, realizing her blunder. “I’m heading to Florida to see Deloris and Emily.
Hullabaloo
is going to take some time to fix up, so I’ll probably spend the winter with them.”

“Oh. I see.” Now it was Sam’s turn to feel dejected. He wished he could decide what he wanted with Molly. The attraction was real, but he didn’t want to commit to anything long-term. Still, to be summarily rejected stung. Sam tried to cover his disappointment.

“Well, if you change your mind and want to convert from the dark side of powerboating, you let me know. We’ll go sailing.”

Molly glared at him. “Don’t bet on it. Powerboats rule.
Hullabaloo
got you out of more than one jam, as I recall, so don’t slander powerboats.”

“Mol, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Why was she so upset?

“Never mind. Thanks for the beer. Have a great visit with your son. And I really did mean every word of the blessing today. I hope you travel safely.” Her smile returned.

“Thanks. And I hope you get the boat back to where you had her before. She’s a great boat. Really.”

Sam watched for a flicker of the earlier attraction he’d recognized in Molly’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how to read her tonight. He watched her raise her hand in a tight salute before disappearing around the side of the house.

Sam pondered briefly about going after her. Before he could move, Jenny tapped him on the shoulder.

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

“We weren’t lovers, Jenny. I’m not sure what we were, or are, but I can assure you we weren’t lovers.”

“Too bad.” Jenny voiced Sam’s thoughts, then grabbed up his hand and dropped a key into it. It was the key to the Mustang.

“I want you to have it.” Jenny was beaming. “I’ll keep it safe until you return from your cruise. The key will stay in the conch shell near the garage.”

“I don’t know what to say, Jenny. That car is worth a good bit of money. You should keep it. Or sell it for cash.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Sam. I want you to have it. Lee would have wanted you to have it, too. Now, I won’t take no for an answer, and that’s final. I’ve already signed the title over to you.”

Sam hugged her. “Thank you, Jenny. I’ll treasure this gift. Not just the car, though it’s sweet, but the gift of knowing you think highly enough of me to give me something so precious. Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Thank you for finding out what happened to Lee. Now go get Molly.” Jenny pulled away from Sam’s embrace. “I’ll get a ride home.”

Sam nodded. He quickly made the rounds to his host and friends, then headed for the Mustang. He looked up and down the street, but he saw no sign of Molly.

Driving to Jenny’s, Sam thought of the many nights he’d spent hanging out there with Lee. Tonight, there were no lights on. Sam pulled into the darkened driveway. He hid the key in a conch shell by the garage door, then walked to the marina. He had hoped to see Molly once more. But then again, he wasn’t sure what he’d say to her if he did.

Chapter fifty-one

Her silhouette startled him. As Sam walked toward
Angel
, he could just barely see her shape sitting on the aft rail in the dim light of the marina’s transient dock. Two steps closer, and he was sure it was her.

“What are the chances?” he muttered.

Sam flapped his arms and hissed, but Kathy the Mallard didn’t budge from her perch.

“Well, at least I won’t get kicked out for having a pet this time. Kathy, you can stay the night. Again. But in the morning, I’m leaving. You’ll have to leave, too.”

Kathy raised her head in apparent acknowledgment, then hopped down on the aft deck atop a nest of coiled line for the night.

. . .

The next day, in the calm of early morning under a pale blue sky, Sam secured everything below and above for his cruise. He was happy to be getting underway, despite his fine-feathered traveling companion’s presence, yet something nagged at him. Still, he poured a travel mug full of black coffee before washing and storing the coffeepot.

It was a fair day for sailing. Wisps of skyward mare’s tails signaled approaching wind—a good omen. The weather report on the radio confirmed it was a good day to get going, so Sam fired up the engine and moved topside to untie the three lines that tethered him to the marina—and to Carolina Beach.

Starting forward, Sam noted the wind coming off the dock. He untied the bow line first, planning to let the wind pivot
Angel
from the stern. Moving back toward
Angel
’s midsection, Sam leaned down to let go of the line when he heard Molly shout.

“Wait!”

Seeing a large box in her arms, Sam’s heart soared. He retied the dock line and helped her aboard, setting the package in the cockpit.

“I’m glad I caught you!” Molly panted. “I wanted to talk before you left…. I want to apologize for last night.”

“It’s okay, Molly.”

“No, it isn’t. I was childish last night, and I’m sorry.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“It’s simple, really. I’m just jealous you are pursuing your dream. And I’m essentially grounded.”

“You don’t have to be, Molly. You could come with me. We’ll do some sailing on the Chesapeake; then you can catch a bus back here to continue working on
Hullabaloo.
I’ll be back after a while.” Sam stepped closer and put his hand on Molly’s, searching her face for a glimmer of hope.

“I can’t. I have too much to do on the boat, and I really need to get those deliveries done to pay for her repairs and restoration.” Molly bit her lip. “Another time?”

“Another time, then.” Sam kissed her quickly on her cheek.

Molly climbed off the boat. Looking aft, she saw Kathy. “Your first mate?”

“Apparently so. She’ll fly off when she figures out I’m heading north, not south.”

“Maybe. Oh, the box is a care package Jenny and I put together for you. Enjoy it, Sam. And keep in touch.” Molly untied the line from the dock and tossed it to Sam, then mirrored his walk aft to get the last line.

“You too, Molly. You too.” Sam waved one last time before putting the boat into forward gear, forward to Norfolk.

The End

Preview of the Next sam mcclellan tale:

stung!

Sam McClellan smelled popcorn. He walked across the polished wooden floors of the clubhouse toward the smell into a bright kitchen with hideous blue cabinets. A spindly man with a scraggly ponytail and matching beard greeted him without turning away from the microwave.

“Hello. Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for the dockmaster.”

“Looks like you found him,” the man said over his shoulder. “Name’s Ed Caglioni. You need a slip?”

“If you could pull me into one, that’d be great. My engine died so I anchored out in the creek. I’m guessing it’s the fuel pump.”

“Fuel pump, eh?” Ed pulled the finished popcorn out of the microwave and turned to face Sam. “What makes you think that?” He shoved a greasy hand into the bag of popcorn he was holding, then offered it to Sam.

Sam declined with a shake of his head, even though his stomach was growling loud enough to be heard.

“I checked everything else…the filter’s littered. I haven’t been out in a while….”

“And you didn’t know you were supposed to check it all out before you left the dock,” Ed interrupted crossly. “You know that’s the most expensive part of the engine. What kind you got?”

Sam folded his arms. “I did check things before I left the dock, and everything was fine. And yes, I realize it’s going to cost me. Can you help me or not?”

“Aww, don’t get all upset. I just see so many people hop on boats without a clue about how to manage ’em. We don’t need to pull you into a slip to fix it, though. That’ll save you some money. Let’s go look at the calendar and I’ll see when I can get to it.”

“Are you the only mechanic around?”

“I’m the only one you want working on your boat around here, I can tell you that.” Ed strolled—no, strutted—across the sitting area of the clubhouse and into his office. “We got bathrooms with showers here, and washers and dryers, if you need ’em. Ordinarily, they’re reserved for folks in the slips, but since I’m going to work on your boat, you can use ’em.”

“Thanks. When do you think you can fit me in?”

When he replied, Ed sounded suspiciously like Deputy Barney Fife from an old television show. “Weeeellll, I got a bottom job ahead of you, so it may be Tuesday before I can install it. What kind of an engine is it?”

“Volvo. I’ll get the manual for you. Tuesday of next week?”

“Yep. That’s the soonest I can get to it. I charge fifty bucks an hour, and once I get the part, it’s gonna take me about a day. That suit you, er, what did you say your name is?” Ed motioned with the popcorn bag for Sam to sit in a ratty chair unlike the fine ones out in the lounge area.

“Sam McClellan. And it has to be done.” Sam sat down and stretched out his long legs.

“Where are you bound?”

“Norfolk.”

“Edenton’s a little out of the way,” Ed offered as he filled out a work order form.

“I have an aunt here in town. I thought I’d come for a short visit.”

“Oh? Who’s your aunt?” Ed turned the paperwork around for Sam to sign, and he smiled a toothy grin under his popcorn-encrusted mustache like a shark about to take a bite of his prey.

“Lou McClellan. I haven’t seen her since I was a kid, so I’ll have to borrow your phone book to find out where she lives.”

Ed’s smile suddenly vanished and his voice grew cold as he sat upright. “No need. She’s on Oak Street, just a few blocks up from the river on the other side of our main street in town, which is actually Broad Street. You saw the dock at the foot of Broad when you sailed in, so it’s a short walk from there.” Ed paused for a second and leaned in toward Sam conspiratorially so Sam could smell a mix of fuel and alcohol on his breath. “Are you coming now because of what she did?”

“What did she do?” Sam was puzzled.

“She murdered her neighbor. Nicest guy you wanta meet, and she turned her killer bees lose on him. Killed him just a few days ago. Says she didn’t do it, but everyone in town knows she hated him.”

“Why did she hate him?”

“Well, for years and years, your dear aunt and Harvey Bishop were real friendly toward each other. They were so friendly, in fact, he’d asked her to marry him, town folk say. Well, she said she’d think about it. While she was thinking about it, his daughter shows up—a daughter he never knew he had—and Lou got all mad at him. She told everyone in town he was a pervert, and she was sick of being his neighbor. She was hoping to turn the town against him, but his family’s been here a long, long time, and he wasn’t about to go anywhere. He tried to calm her down, but she never did let up. So it don’t surprise me one bit that she offed him.”

“You seem to know a lot about the case,” Sam said, standing up to leave.

“Yep, everybody knows all about it. Edenton is a small community. We’re like a family, see. Sign here, and I’ll order your pump.”

“So you turn on one of your own just like that?” Sam glared at Ed Caglioni as he walked out without signing the work order.

“I can’t order your part until you sign!” Ed called after him. “Look; I’m sorry about your aunt, but don’t let that get in the way of getting your engine fixed.”

Sam slammed the clubhouse door so hard that its glass-pane rattled as if it would shatter. Untying his dinghy’s painter line from the dock, he hopped in and cranked the motor. Sam exited the marina, creating as much of a wake as his small two-stroke outboard could manage; then he sped past his boat and down the creek toward the town docks of Edenton.