Thomas Prescott Superpack (18 page)

Chapter 35

The hook had been pushed through the pupil and into the meat of the eye. I wasn’t sure if I should pull the eye off the hook or if I should throw the eye, along with the line and pole, into the watery waste. I broke the hook off the line and walked the eye over to the cooler. There were three beers left and I slipped them out, setting the eye atop the ice. Two of the beers fell over on their side, Alex striding over to pick them up. She handed me one of the beers, her gaze passing over the cooler.

She popped the top of her beer and asked sedately, “Where were they?”

“The son of a bitch baited the two fishing poles at the back of the boat and tossed them out to sea.” Speaking of
they I should probably go reel in the other one.

Alex nodded solemnly like this was practical, even routine, and said, “What’s the deal with the eyes?”

“I’ve been racking my brain and I don’t have the slightest clue.”

This seemed to appease her and she went back to work on the sails. The next five minutes were spent reeling in the second line. If anyone was watching me they would have thought I was having a grand old time, doing some fishing, swigging on a beer, living the good life. Nope buddy, I’m reeling in the eye of a seven-year-old girl I just found in my galley.

Salúd.

I had the ripple within about ten yards when a five-foot sailfish decided to have Kellon’s eye for lunch. I heard a barrage of whistling and screaming, and noticed two passing boats on their way out to sea. There were about ten people leaning over their respective railings screaming the likes of, “Give ’em hell,” and, “Kick his ass.”

I leaned back, heard the distinct snap of fishing line breaking, and toppled backward landing on my ass. There was a collective, “Ahhhhh,” from my spectators and one gentlemen yelled, “Can’t win ’em all.”

I tossed the pole in the ocean absentmindedly and readied myself for the onslaught of Feds, forensics, and father. Kellon’s that was.

As we neared Bayside Harbor, I had to rub my eyes once, I thought I’d seen Kellon’s small frame amongst the larger bodies, but it was, in actuality, Todd Gregory. He was standing next to Caitlin, only she was a head taller than him. I closed one eye and squashed him between my thumb and forefinger.
Squish, squish, squish.

Do I deal with death efficiently or what?

We entered the marina and I made out Kellon’s deadbeat dad amid the burgeoning throng. I wanted to despise the man, but couldn’t muster the strength. He’d just lost a daughter, and I would be the one to tell him. Hey, if the world didn’t suck we’d all fall off.

They’d cordoned off a slip for the boat and Alex eased us in. I threw the mooring lines to Gleason and he fastened the ropes to the dock. Gleason uprighted and said, “Nice boat.”

“Thanks. Want to buy it? I’ll give you the Fed discount.”

He threw a half smile he does sometimes but said nothing. There were about ten people that looked ready to storm the boat the second we departed the premises. Alex had Baxter in her arms and Gleason helped her over the small gap between the boat and the dock. As she passed Caitlin, they traded looks, like each had suspicions the other let go a silent stinker.

Caitlin grabbed my shirtsleeve but I ignored her and continued on to Kellon’s father. I strode towards him and he gave me the once over. He cleared his throat and said, “People talking like there’s a dead feller on your boat.”

I guided him to his office and informed him about his daughter. He didn’t believe me at first and called his wife. I only heard his side of the conversation, but it was evident Kellon was not supposed to be with her mother this weekend. He broke down and I told him how sorry I was, then left before I lost it. I found my cell phone and dialed Lacy. Her excitement at Baxter being alive and Kellon being dead, averaged out to mildly upset.

Speaking of Baxter, Alex was standing forlorn at the top of the pier with the squirming pug. I walked over to her and she asked, “How bad was it?”

I assumed she was referring to my interlude with Kellon’s father. “On a scale from one to a ten. Five hundred, forty-eight thousand, six hundred, and forty-two.”

I found my keys in my front pocket and handed them to her. “Take my car. I’ll be here for a while and catch a ride with Caitlin.”

She nodded. At her taking my car or my riding with Caitlin, I wasn’t sure, she didn’t specify. I wasn’t certain what the right parting words were in this situation, but from the expression on Alex’s face, “I saw your nipple,” were not them.

Chapter 36

The Range Rover disappeared in a cloud of dust and I turned my attention to the schooner. There was only one person on the deck of the
Backstern
, which by default put nine people in the already cramped cabin. Caitlin and Conner emerged as I ambled onto the deck.

Caitlin said earnestly, “Horrific. Who was she?”

“Kellon Atkins. She was my pal.”

A voice from behind Conner spat, “Why didn’t you mention her name when we were making our list of possible victims?”

Gregory had slipped up the stairs without my notice. I faced him and said, “Hey Frodo Baggins, I didn’t see you down there. If you must know, I didn’t mention her because I like little girl jigsaw puzzles. It’s kind of a hobby of mine.”

He glared at me. “How is it you’re always the one who stumbles on these girl’s bodies?”

I looked at Caitlin, then Conner, and finally back to Gregory. I was speechless. When my capacity to speak came back, I said, “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

Gleason came up the stairs and Gregory said to him, “I was just telling Thomas about our little theory.”

Someone smashed their fist into the bridge of Gregory’s nose and he fell to the ground. I looked at Conner and said, “I can’t believe you hit him.”

He smirked, “You hit him.”

Did I?

Blood was dripping from Gregory’s nose and he screamed, “You broke my nose you son of a bitch. I’m gonna sue your ass, Prescott.”

I offered my solution, “How ‘bout I just give you this boat and we call it even.” Gleason helped Todd to his feet and I leaned into him, “If you ever so much as mention me in that context again, it will be your neck next time. Capîce.”

Caitlin edged herself between the two of us and said, “Tell us what happened.” I recounted the events in seventy percent truth. I left out the part about Alex and my skinny-dipping—make that just my skinny-dipping—alleging that Baxter appeared from below deck while we’d been sailing. And I left out the part about the sailfish. They followed me over to the cooler in the far back corner and I showed them Kellon’s eye.

Conner asked, “Where’s the other one?”

“I have no idea.” I lied.

Conner dropped me off at Alex’s around nine. We hadn’t had much for small talk the duration of the ride. I think my screwing over his sister, both literally and figuratively, and Lacy dumping him had negatively impacted our relationship.

I opened the door to his Camaro and he asked, “Are you going to be at the meeting tomorrow?”

“Probably not. I think I need to find a lawyer before I’m in the same room with the Toddler.”

He nodded and said, “Well if you want the run down, give me a call.”

I nodded, slammed the car door, and watched as he peeled from the drive. I found the eight young bucks nestled in the living room. They were each wearing a different, yet similar expression. Let’s see here, Kim was flashing despair, Holly was donning anguish, Ali was clad in gloom, Tall Tim was sporting melancholy, Fat Tim was up to his ears in dreary, Blake was modeling woe, Caleb was showing affliction, and Lacy was displaying morose. Speaking of Ms. Morose, she was sitting on the ground between Caleb’s legs, Baxter prancing over hers like he was in the steeplechase.

Caleb shook his head, “I can’t believe this shit. What do we do now professor?”

“The next hot date isn’t for another five days. I want you guys to stay alert, but it appears Tristen is only striking on the hot dates.”

Kim Welding asked, “Can we do anything to help?”

“Right now, I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”

I retreated into the kitchen. Alex was slurping up the last bites of the Froot Loop primordial soup and I asked, “Mind if I have a bowl?”

She slurped down the last bite of her cereal. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m having one anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” Wow, Déjà vu. I grabbed a bowl, a spoon, and the milk, and joined her at the small table.

I picked up the box of Froot Loops. Empty. I couldn’t help but notice Alex now had a heaping bowl of cereal. She smiled and said, “There’s more in the cabinet.”

I walked to the cabinet and opened it. Cha-ching. House mom had evidently gone grocery shopping. There were seven different boxes of cereal, including an unopened box of Lucky Charms. I poured the cereal and asked Alex, “What are the odds I find an article about this in the
Waterville Tribune
tomorrow?”

She picked a green Froot Loop from her bowl and held it up.

Chapter 37

Today was October 7th, which meant today was Jennifer Pepper’s funeral in New York. The service started at one-thirty, which meant I was running late. Is it possible to be running early? If so, I’d never experienced the phenomenon. Lacy was snuggled up with Caleb and Baxter on the floor under a down comforter and I shook her lightly. I said, “Up and at ‘em. We have to be dressed and on the road in half an hour.”

Lacy said groggily, “All my stuff is at Caleb’s.” Lacy was roughly the same size as Alex, give or take a cup size. “I’ll see if Alex has something black you can wear. But you need to hop in the shower.”

I led her to the shower in the guest bedroom and walked across the hall to Alex’s room. I knocked on the door and Alex yelled, “Come in.”

Alex was fastening the top button of a turquoise blouse, and said, “Well now he comes knocking.” She looked at her watch, “We’re going to have to make this fast though, I need to be somewhere at nine.” She unfastened the top button on her blouse and started in on the second.

She appeared serious and I said, “I’ll have to take a rain check.”

She pouted dramatically and I rebuked, “Sorry, I have a funeral that takes precedence over whoopee.” Her mouth straightened. The word funeral is in the same boat as black plague, gingivitis, dungeons & dragons, and genital warts, they all seem to drain the romance from a situation.

I said, “Lacy’s stuff is at Caleb’s and we’re running a little behind schedule. Do you have anything Lacy can borrow?”

She nodded and went to her closet. She came back with a decent length black skirt and a black blouse. I asked, “Where is it you have to be at nine?”

“I have a meeting with my publisher to see about a sequel to
Eight in October
.”

Grand, another book I would have to buy five friggin’ times. “What are you going to call it,
Encore in October
?”

She cocked her head sideways and grinned.

Lacy and I settled into the car at nine-ish. We stopped at a Dunkin Donuts on the way out of town and I picked up two large coffees, five donuts, and one
Waterville Press
.

Waterville Press
? What ever happened to
Waterville Tribune
?

Under the new title was a letter from the editor:

The
Waterville Tribune
has undergone a name change. The
Waterville Press
promises to deliver the same caliber of undiluted coverage you’ve come to expect from the
Waterville Tribune
.                                                        

—Editor in Chief, Alex Tooms

That sneaky, conniving wench. Under this was the headline:

Hero Catches Eye of Local Girl.

My hands were trembling, and I was forced to read the article on my lap. Thankfully, Alex didn’t describe the particulars of Kellon’s mutilated corpse and I recalled that she’d never ventured down to the galley.

I was rolling up the paper when I noticed after the
Press
in
Waterville Press
were four tiny letters, c-o-t-t. Unbelievable, Alex had renamed the paper the
Waterville Press-cott
.

I was contemplating doing Tristen Grayer a favor and killing Alex Tooms myself.

Jennifer’s funeral was a nice service and we made our journey full circle by ten later that evening, both of us deciding to crash at Caleb’s. I didn’t trust myself around Alex. Although, whether it was my sleeping with her, or killing her, was a bit fuzzy.

I still couldn’t believe what she’d done, but I guess when you own a paper you have a lot of leeway. Alex truly was the Queen Bee. With one hell of a stinger. I called Conner at eleven and he gave me the run down on the meeting that afternoon. The new task force was stumped. I wasn’t, and had never been a suspect. The eye was in fact Kellon’s. And Todd’s nose now slightly bent to the left.

I wasn’t sure if I were glad, or disappointed they were stumped, God knows I was stumped. We needed a break other than Todd’s delicate little nose.

Caleb, Lacy, and I ordered Chinese and played a couple games of gin rummy. Lacy and Caleb beat me twice before retiring to the living room to watch a movie. Yours truly, on the other hand, went for a night jog and scrutinized each crime scene in my head. At mile five it hit me, the eyes. It came down to the eyes. I wasn’t sure in what context or why, but I was sure the eyes meant something. Perhaps, Tristen would be nice enough to detail it for me the next time we bumped into each other. Speaking of which, was the exact reason I was jogging at twelve-thirty on a Sunday night.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened on my run and I was drinking water straight from Caleb’s faucet a little after one. Caleb and Lacy had retired to the bedroom to watch a little Discovery Channel, or more likely, to play a little Discovery Channel. I thought about the word channel and I ran out to my car and grabbed the walkie-talkie.

I flipped the channel back to nine and said, “I know you can hear me you piece of shit. I was going to bring you down and let the justice system punish you, but now I’ve decided to kill you. I’m going to strangle you with your own guts. Sweet dreams.”