Murder Hooks a Mermaid (24 page)

I agreed and hung up, wondering what Ernie and Felipe were up to. They had never tried to meddle in Karen’s personal life or mine, at least not like this. Then again, maybe they were just trying to recognize the fact that we were moving toward being couples.

Were we really? Was I that close to Jake, or was it just a casual thing? Sure, he’d helped me through the fire, and we’d kissed a few times, but what did that mean?

I had no idea, and I felt as though I were back in junior high, trying to guess whether he liked me as a friend or
really
liked me. I found him attractive, and I was pretty sure I wanted whatever this was to continue, but I had questions, and the fire department was one of them. Why hadn’t he told me about volunteering? Or anything about his life before Keyhole Bay?

Maybe, if I could get some answers, I’d feel better.

The short drive to Felipe and Ernie’s house, though, wasn’t long enough to even ask.

When we parked at the curb, Karen’s SUV wasn’t anywhere to be seen. But before we got to the front door of the simple cottage, it rounded the corner and parked behind Jake’s car.

Riley hopped out of the driver’s side, and ran around to open Karen’s door, a move I hadn’t seen from him since high school. I tried not to stare.

Karen handed her ex a bottle bag and a six-pack, then climbed out of the SUV. With Riley’s hands full, she took a key from her giant bag and locked the doors. Apparently, Riley now had his own key, too.

Felipe met us at the door. “Ernie’s been cooking all day,” he said, taking the bottle bag from Riley.

“Yum,” Karen said, as our noses caught the rich odor of baking ham wafting from the kitchen.

“Smells wonderful in here,” Jake agreed.

Felipe led us into the dining room, which opened into the kitchen. Ernie stood at the stove, a white chef’s apron double-wrapped around his slender waist and tied at the front.

Two covered pots sat on the back burners, their mysterious contents leaking wisps of steam into the kitchen. On
the front burner, a skillet held melting shortening next to a tray of cornbread discs ready for frying.

The counter that ran along the adjacent wall was cleared of clutter, a testament to Ernie’s intense organization. The only thing that remained was an electric deep fryer, unplugged and cooling.

Ernie greeted us all warmly, with hugs for Karen and me, and back-slapping handshakes for our dates. He gratefully accepted a cold longneck from Riley, twisting off the cap and taking a long pull.

Riley distributed bottles to the rest of us, taking the last one for himself. With the addition of Riley and Jake, we had the correct number for a single six-pack. I took it as a good omen.

Ernie began frying the cornbread, sliding the discs of dough into the hot grease and waiting patiently as they turned a faint gold around the edges before turning them over.

Felipe took a bowl from the refrigerator, placing it on the sleekly modern teak sideboard next to a tray of crackers.

While their antique shop tended toward the ornate and Victorian, at home Felipe and Ernie were definitely mid-century modern, given to teak in the minimalist lines of Danish modern.

I investigated the appetizers, delighted to find a bowl of Ernie’s homemade pimento cheese. Growing up, pimento cheese was a lunchroom staple. Ernie served it with buttery crackers, a traditional childhood sandwich filling transformed into a savory predinner snack.

Conversation flowed as Ernie finished cooking, though we avoided any serious discussion. That would wait until we were all seated and could pay attention to the conversation.
They had all heard about Julie and Rose Ann and quizzed me and Jake about our visit to the hospital.

“How’s the baby look?” Felipe asked. I think he was the only one of us with any maternal instinct.

“Like a baby,” I shrugged. “Red and wrinkled. And tiny.”

My answer was greeted with a round of laughter.

We each offered our help, but Ernie insisted he had everything under control, and he did. Even his apron remained spotless as he lifted the cornbread patties from the frying pan to a paper-towel-lined cookie sheet to cool.

He took a ham from the oven, pecan pieces scattered across its top, and a tray of golden-fried okra, which accounted for the cooling deep fryer. In a few minutes he turned off the back burners and uncovered their contents. One pot held dirty rice, which he heaped into a serving bowl, and the other contained stewed tomatoes that went in another bowl. He covered a serving plate with perfect pieces of fried cornbread from the cookie sheet.

While Ernie sliced the ham, we carried the bowls and platters to the table. With the table already loaded with amazing food, Ernie brought out a platter of ham, and took his place at the end nearest the kitchen.

As always, the first few minutes were taken up with passing bowls and plates and questioning the cook about the various dishes. We had established the routine when we decided to turn our regular Thursday night dinner into an exploration of traditional southern cooking. As we took turns, each cook shared their recipes, and we all learned about new dishes.

Jake had been invited to dinner a time or two, but this was a new experience for Riley. Several times I saw him
looking around the table as though he were seeing us all for the first time. Which, in a way, I guess he was.

We settled in, savoring the saltiness of the ham, the bite of the stewed tomatoes, and the moist goodness of the fried cornbread. Ernie was an accomplished cook, and his food was always the best.

The conversation eventually turned from the cooking to what had happened since we’d last been together, and that night we had a
lot
to talk about.

Karen and Riley knew about the Civic, of course. Felipe and Ernie had heard via the gossip tree that was the Merchants’ Association, since several of the members were also on the volunteer fire crew.

“I heard at yesterday’s breakfast,” Ernie said. “Clark had just come off his shift, and he was telling us about someone’s car burning up. I believe his exact words were ‘Someone torched a car.’ But I had no idea it was yours, Glory. How bad is it?”

“It’s a total loss,” Jake said.

The three men turned to look at him, startled that he had answered the question. Karen looked at me, her glance asking why Jake was answering for me.

“Jake was there,” I said. “But maybe I better let him tell you about that.”

All eyes turned expectantly to Jake.

“I joined the volunteer department,” he said. “A few months back. I didn’t want to say anything until after I passed the exams, which I did last week. With all that was going on”—he nodded at Riley and Karen—“I just hadn’t found the right time to tell you all. And then on my very first shift I got called out on a car fire, and it turned out to be Glory’s car.”

He accepted the congratulations of the group with grace, but Felipe asked the question we were all thinking: “How could you have had any question about passing the exams? You’re a smart guy, and the department tries to help all they can.”

Jake’s chuckle was self-depreciating. “I spent the last few years in a desk job,” he explained. “The physical is demanding; you have to perform a lot of tasks while wearing full turnout gear. I wasn’t sure if I could do everything they required in order to get my certification.”

Riley cast a critical eye over Jake. “You look pretty fit to me, and I have to be able to judge whether a guy can make it on a fishing boat. I’d hire you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if this bookstore thing doesn’t work out.”

A cloud passed over Riley’s face. “Assuming I can ever get my boat back.”

That turned the conversation from Jake’s firefighting to the state of the murder investigation. It was the first Felipe and Ernie had heard about our excursion to the apartment in Pensacola, and they agreed with Jake and Riley that we had taken a foolish chance.

“There’s still something about it,” I said. “Something that keeps trying to make a connection in my head. It’s like when you see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn around and look, there’s nothing there.”

Karen nodded. “I know what you mean. We saw something in there that’s important, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

I helped Ernie clear the table, and we sat back down for another glass of wine before he started dessert.

“You’ll see,” was all he would tell us when we asked what he was serving.

At Riley’s suggestion, Karen got her tablet from her magic bag, and she brought up the pictures from our little trip to Pensacola. At this point, there was no sense in hiding what we’d found.

The tablet was passed from hand to hand, as each of us looked at the pictures. Jake and I had already seen them, but Riley hadn’t, and of course Ernie and Felipe hadn’t, either.

“These are their dive tanks?” Ernie asked, pointing to one of the photos.

“Yeah. Rented from some dive shop over in Jacksonville, so they must have brought them with them.”

“Jacksonville?” Riley suddenly sat up straight. He was staring intently at Karen. “They were from Jacksonville?”

“Callahan, actually. But close enough.”

Riley shook his head. “There’s something about Jacksonville, something I heard just in the last week or so.”

A gasp escaped from my lips as I made the connection. I knew what Riley had heard. Someone else had come from Jacksonville recently.

“Megan Moretti,” I blurted out.

Chapter 30

“IT COULD JUST BE A COINCIDENCE,” ERNIE CAU
tioned. “She might not have anything to do with them.”

“True enough,” Riley said. “Or they might have gone in Mermaid’s Grotto because they knew she was there and they thought she could introduce them to somebody.”

“Small towns have a reputation,” Jake added. “When they couldn’t find anyone to charter for them, maybe they thought a girl with local connections could help.”

“Or maybe she’s in cahoots with those two.” Now that the connection, however tenuous, had been made, Karen was ready to run with it.

Ernie wasn’t convinced. “She grew up around here, right? And she went over to Jacksonville a couple years ago?”

“Closer to five,” Karen shot back. “Long enough,” she added darkly.

“Long enough for what?” Riley asked. “Long enough to
get homesick? Long enough to lose her job and come back home?”

“I don’t know,” Karen replied. “But I know how to find out.”

Uh-oh. When Karen talked like that, things happened. And they weren’t always good. It was the same kind of impatience that had gotten us into that apartment in the first place.

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Ernie said. “You always talk like this just before you go and do something crazy.”

“It’s not crazy. I have friends in Jacksonville, people who have connections. If there’s something to find out about Megan Moretti, or about our pals Chuck and Freddy, they’ll know where to find it.

“If I leave first thing in the morning, I can be there and back in one day.”

“I’ll go with you,” Riley offered. “I can keep you company and help with the driving. That’s a lot of miles for one person in a single day.”

“I can manage,” Karen replied. “It’s a long drive, but I’ve done longer. I’ll just take an audiobook, and it’ll pass the time.”

“I might be able to help out, though.” Riley wasn’t getting brushed off that easily.

“No, really. I’ll be fine. You should be here with your family. They need you right now.”

“It might be nice to get away for a day,” Riley answered. “I can’t fish, and all I do is sit around the house trying to get my mom to eat something.” He looked around the table. “I don’t think she’s eaten an actual meal since Bobby was arrested.”

“All the more reason you need to be there,” Karen said.
“You’re the only one who’s been able to get her to eat anything.”

“I am trying to tell you I could use a break!”

Riley was practically shouting, and I could see the stress building. He’d been under a lot of pressure in the past week, and at first he’d caved. But now he was itching for a fight, looking for an outlet.

And Karen gave him one.

“And
I
am trying to tell
you
I need to do this by myself. I’m going to see some old friends who are working for news stations in Jacksonville. They have sources, like all good reporters, and I am going to have to ask them to try and tap those sources for information.

“It’s something I need to do face-to-face,” she said in an overly patient voice that bordered on condescension. “And it’s something that will be better done alone.”

Riley’s face turned red, a sign he was getting ready to blow. “I don’t suppose,” he said, sarcasm dripping off every word, “that these are male friends, are they?”

“For heaven’s sake!” Exasperation sharpened Karen’s voice, and she turned a withering gaze on Riley. “I have some old college classmates over there. A couple of them are guys.
Married
guys. You know, the kind with wives and kids?”

“Oh,” he said, not backing down. “
College
friends.”

I’d expected Karen and Riley to find a way to blow their budding reconciliation to hell. I just hadn’t expected them to be able to do it so soon. And so publicly.

It appeared that Karen’s education, and Riley’s lack of same, had become one of the landmines in their relationship. And they had stepped squarely on the detonator right here in front of us.

“They’re just friends,” Karen said, her voice growing chilly. “The kind of people you help out when they need you.”

Riley’s pride couldn’t stand the jab. “You don’t need to do me any favors!”

He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out her car key. Slamming it on the table in front of her, he shoved his chair back and stood up.

He stopped and turned to the rest of us, struggling to control the temper that raged in him. “Thank you all for inviting me to dinner. Ernie, the food was wonderful. I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”

With that, he stormed through the house and out the door.

An uncomfortable silence followed his abrupt departure.