With Baited Breath (13 page)

“Great idea.”

“The windows are filthy, though.”

“Hey, give me a bucket of water and a rag and I’m good to go,” Kathy assured her.

“Let’s do it,” Anissa agreed.

“I need to hang around here in case any more yard sale customers come,” Tori said.

“That’s okay.”

“There’s a ladder in the boathouse,” Anissa said. “Tori and I used it yesterday. I’ll go get it out while you get the water.” She started off.

“Gramps has all kinds of buckets in the shop,” Tori said, “but no hot water.”

“Heck, if I have to, I’ll dip it out of the bay,” Kathy said. “Does your Gramps have a pair of binoculars? I want to see who shows up. Maybe I can gauge their interest by the make of their car.”

“You hope,” Tori said, without conviction. “And, yeah, I’m sure he’s got binoculars. I remember using them as a kid.”

They started for the bait shop and Herb gave them a bucket. He hinted very strongly that the shop windows could use a good wash, as well as those on the house, but neither Tori nor Kathy committed to cleaning them on that particular day.

As soon as the ladder was out, Anissa hung onto it while Kathy climbed and washed the first of three windows on the boathouse’s upper level. She must have felt a little guilty, because she then cleaned those on the ground floor while Anissa collapsed the ladder and took it back inside. Kathy dumped the dirty water and took another bucket full of clean water into the boathouse.

A car pulled up, and Tori made another seven dollars in sales before she heard a loud crack and one of the windows in the boathouse opened. Anissa propped it open with a board and called, “It’s hot in here.”

A stiff breeze blew over the bay, and Tori felt anything but hot.

“There’s loads of good stuff up here. You ought to come up and have a look. Maybe stuff you could sell,” Anissa called.

“I’ll be there in a while,” Tori called. She headed into the bait shop. Herb was between customers, tying a fly. “Gramps?” He didn’t look up. “What’s in the boathouse loft?”

“Just a load of junk. A lot of old duck decoys, oars, and water skis without mates.”

“Do you mind if I try to sell it?”

“Not a bit. It means I’ll have less to do when I get rid of this place … although maybe I could get more by selling it ‘as is.’”

“You know, Gramps, you don’t have to sell at all. I’m willing to help you out. I’m willing—”

Herb finally looked up from the fly. “Honey, I’ve been at this far too long. It about killed your grandmother, and what do we have to show for all that work?”

“A pretty little bait shop,” Tori offered.

Herb’s smile was short-lived. “Only as of yesterday.”

“I was thinking, once we get the new light in, we could clear out the boathouse and—”

“Don’t waste your time thinking. I’ve made up my mind.”

Tori sensed that this was not the time to continue this particular conversation. “Can I borrow your binoculars?”

“Gonna do some bird watching?”

“You might say that.”

“They’re in the closet off the living room.”

Tori nodded, and without another word, she turned and headed for the house. A minute later, she was on her way to the boathouse but paused to try out the binoculars. She looked down at the dock, where a couple of men were sitting in the back of their Bayliner drinking beer and casting over the side. She could see a Nitro fishing boat coming out of the water at the Bayside Live Bait & Marina launch. The sound of Kathy and Anissa roaming around the boathouse loft caught her attention, reminding her of her mission.

Inside the boathouse, it was dark and dusty. She climbed the built-in wooden ladder to the second floor. She hadn’t been up there since she was a child, and it was as full of junk as she remembered, most of it dirty and broken. She maneuvered around the piles to join her friends. Kathy had just finished washing the last window on that side of the boathouse.

“Of course, I’d open the front here and put in a deck,” Anissa was saying. “What a great view, and the rental potential would be enormous.”

“Making plans for the future?” Tori asked sourly.

“Just wishful thinking,” Anissa said. “Whoever built this place built solid. It’s got great bones.”

“I brought the binoculars,” Tori called to Kathy.

“Thanks. “

“As we’ve got time to kill, I was wondering if you ladies would want to join me on the bay bridge to look for Biggie Taylor?” Anissa asked.

“I don’t think you should talk to him,” Tori advised.

“Why not? I only want to ask him why he was harassing my daddy.”

“You heard what they said over at the Bayside shop. He’s trouble,” Tori said.

“I am not afraid of a bully.”

“You haven’t seen how big he is,” Kathy pointed out.

“Yeah, and with a name like Biggie, he’s got to be enormous,” Tori said.

“The bigger they are, the more they splash when they’re tossed off the bridge,” Anissa said. Her gaze was intense. “Well, who’s coming with me?”

“I’ll go,” Kathy volunteered. “I feel bad for not mentioning the guy to you yesterday. I’m just mad enough at whoever wants to look at my house that I may help you toss this Biggie character into the drink.”

“I’d go, too, but I’ve got the yard sale to take care of,” Tori said. “Have you got your cell phone Kathy? I want you to be able to call 911 if there’s trouble.”

“I’ve got it in my pocket,” she said, patting the top of her thigh.”

“When you guys get back, we can have a picnic out in front of the Lotus Lodge.”

“Sounds good to me,” Kathy said. “I baked last night. I’ve got some cutout cookies in the shape of little houses all nicely decorated in a Tupperware container out in the car.”

“I’m all for cookies,” Anissa said. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Tori watched as her friends crossed the parking area and headed west along the side of the road for the bridge.

A blue minivan pulled into the parking and a woman got out, leaving her male companion behind. “Am I too late for all the goodies?” she asked.

“Still plenty of good stuff,” Tori assured her, but she stepped back to let the woman examine everything on the table and what she had spread out on the tarp in the grass. Her gaze drifted to the bridge, but she couldn’t see Kathy and Anissa. She just hoped they weren’t walking into trouble.

#

Though Kathy had driven over the bridge a number of times, she’d never actually walked across it. It was low to the water, but higher than she’d thought—at least a good six feet or more. She and Anissa didn’t speak as they tramped along the heavy wooden decking toward a group of three men who were fishing.

“Think these guys will know who Biggie Taylor is?” Kathy asked.

“All we gotta do is ask,” Anissa said.

They walked up to the fishermen, three black men dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, their lines hanging over the side of the bridge, chairs, coolers, and a radio with hip-hop music blasting.

“Hey, guys,” Anissa called. “Aren’t you afraid the music is going to scare away the fish?”

“Nope,” one of them said.

“Then how come we haven’t caught one fish yet? We haven’t even had a nibble,” said his compadre.

“You guys know someone named Biggie Taylor?”

Two of the men shook their heads. The third kept his gaze on his pole.”

“Sir?” Anissa prompted.

“I don’t know him. I know
of
him,” he said, not bothering to meet her gaze. “You want to stay away from that brother.”

“Actually, I don’t. I want to speak to him. He disrespected my daddy, and now daddy’s dead.”

The man turned to face her. “Your daddy was Michael?” Anissa nodded. “I’m real sorry, ma’am.”

“Thank you. Do you know where I can find Mr. Taylor?”

The man’s gaze swiveled to his left. “That be him in the green shirt down a-ways. But don’t you tell him I told you so.”

“Thank you. I won’t.”

Anissa strode purposely forward, leaving Kathy to scramble to catch up. “Thanks,” she called over her shoulder. She caught up with Anissa, whose legs were easily three or four inches longer than Kathy’s, giving her a much longer stride. “What are you going to say to him?”

“I have no idea.”

Kathy’s heart began to pound, and it wasn’t just the aerobic exercise from the brisk walk. Biggie Taylor was a very big man. He was not only tall, but also built like a linebacker. Though it was quite breezy on the water, his dark skin glistened with sweat. Like the other anglers, he had his creature comforts circled around him, but no companions to talk to. He probably scared everybody away. Kathy felt a thrill of fear rush through her, but she wasn’t about to abandon her new friend, either.

“Mr. Taylor?” Anissa called.

Taylor turned at the sound of her voice. His shoulders were massive. Did he press weights, too? “Who wants to know?”

“Me,” Anissa said, and walked right up to him. Kathy halted a few feet away, snaking her hand into her pocket to clasp her cell phone.

“Who are you?”

“Michael Jackson was my daddy. I understand you and he had words last weekend. He was found dead on Tuesday.”

“I didn’t have nothing to do with that,” Taylor said in adamant defense.

“You had words.”

“He said I was trying to steal his bait.”

“Were you?”

“Not steal; borrow. What’s a couple of worms between friends?”

“Were you my daddy’s friend?” she pressed.

“I’m everybody’s friend,” he bluffed, and turned his gaze back to his pole.

“That’s not what I hear. People ’round here are scared of you.”

“Aw, I never hurt no one.”

“Then why do you want to be perceived as a bully? I’m sure your mama never taught you to be that way.”

Taylor’s head bowed. “No, ma’am.”

“Do I look like a ma’am to you?” Anissa asked.

Taylor turned his massive head in her direction. “No, miss. But you sound like a ma’am.”

Kathy found it hard to keep a smile from creeping onto her lips. Anissa actually had this guy cowed.

“I’m going to be living in these parts from here on out and if I hear you’ve been messing with anyone—especially old people—you will be one unhappy man,” she promised.

Taylor’s head sank lower. “Yes, miss.”

“What’s your name?”

He looked up at her. “Biggie; you already knew that.”

“That isn’t what your mama calls you.”

“No, miss. She calls me DeWayne.”

Anissa held out her hand. “Hello, DeWayne. I’m Anissa. I’m pleased to meet you.”

He looked up and shook her hand.

“This is my friend, Kathy.”

Kathy held out her hand to shake. His grasp was surprisingly gentle. “Glad to know you, DeWayne.”

“Do you come here to fish every Saturday?” Anissa asked.

“Mostly,” he admitted.

“Do you know if anybody else messed with my daddy?”

Taylor frowned. “I don’t know for sure, but I know what your daddy said to me.”

“And that was?”

“That somebody might come after him for what he saw.”

“Did he say who he was afraid of, or just what it was he saw?”

“I’m not sure. He wasn’t telling his story to me.”

“Who was he talking to?”

“A white guy with a crew-cut. He wasn’t fishing; he was just hanging ’round the bridge. It looked like he made a point to track down your daddy.”

“But you didn’t hear what they said?”

“No, miss.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police about this?”

“I ain’t talking to no po-lice. They wouldn’t be interested in anything I got to say—just try to pin something bad on me. That’s the way the po-lice work, and you know it.”

Anissa said nothing.

“Please, Mr. Taylor, tell us everything you know. Anissa can’t find closure until we find out who killed her father,” Kathy said.

“Would it be easier for you to talk to them if I was with you? I’d look out for you,” Anissa said.

“You’d do that?”

“I’d do anything to catch the bastard who killed my daddy,” Anissa said vehemently.

Taylor looked away, but finally shrugged. “Shit, I guess I could do that for you. But I don’t live ’round here. I come in from Rochester. Saturdays are the only days I got to fish.”

“The detective is off on weekends. But maybe he and I could come visit you at home sometime this week?”

“I guess,” he said with a shrug.

“I haven’t got a cell phone, but do you mind if Kathy takes your number and address down?”

“Whatever,” Taylor said. He gave Kathy the information and she input it into her phone.

“I will call you after I talk to Detective Osborn. Thank you,” Anissa said. She offered Taylor her hand once more. They shook on it. “We’ll talk soon,” she promised and then turned.