Radical Regatta! Page 9

  “If we set it out there and fill the food dish, will he go inside on his own?” I asked. “I don’t want to scare him again if we don’t have to.” I looked at him again, remembering how frantic he’d been about the skinny bad man.

  “Sure, but that might take a while. I can’t come back for him until tomorrow morning. Will that be okay?” Brien was nodding yes like a happy kid who’d just been told he could keep the puppy that followed him home.

  “That’s fine. The clinic’s probably still a big mess, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “We’ve made headway, but there’s still more to be done. We might have to relocate all the animals while repairs are made. It’s going to be noisy and smelly since everything needs to be disinfected.”

  “Pepe’s already been relocated,” Brien said. “We’ll take care of him until the place is in good shape again.”

  “Are you sure?” She looked at me when she asked that question. I nodded.

  “If you change your mind, call me. Take this bag. Besides his food and treats, I brought a few of his favorite toys. We rotate them in and out of his cage, so when he gets bored, we can switch to a different one.” She pulled what looked like a sheet from the bag. “I was going to use this to cover the cage so he wouldn’t get too scared while I moved him. It’s what we use to cover his cage and help him sleep at night.”

  “Now what?” I asked as soon as she left.

  “Let’s get Pepe situated, then we’ll call Mick and Willow to come over to watch him while we go back to the marina,” Brien suggested.

  “I can help you with Pepe, Brien. Maybe Kim can find out if you’re right about the information on that notepad you found in Mason’s suite.”

  “That I can do!” I called the main number at the marina, and it switched over to voicemail. Some service! Then I recalled that Mick was working overtime because of all the extra guests in town for the regatta. On weekends, even locals sometimes went to the resort to waterski or kayak or to take part in other watersports. If he was still working down around the boardwalk or marina, he might be able to check the information for us.

  “Mick,” I said once he answered my call. “It’s Kim. Are you still at work?”

  “Yes, do you and Brien want to come on over here and meet me for happy hour?”

  “I wish we could join you, but we’ve got our hands full.” I peeked out onto the patio. Brien and Bede had rigged up the cage to dangle a few feet above the floor. Pepe started squawking and flew into the cage. Somehow, they’d braced it, so it didn’t swing. Then he let out a high-pitched squeal before squawking again.

  “Was that a parrot? If you’re watching one of those nature shows, you need to turn down the volume.”

  “If I could turn it down, I would. I have a huge favor to ask you. Can you check the numbers I’m going to give you and see if they match a boat slip at the marina? If they do, can you call me back and tell me what boat’s moored there, please?” When he didn’t object, I read the numbers to him.

  “That’s a boat slip all right, and it’s not far from where I am. I’m tying up some dinghies we used this afternoon to explore the tidepools. When I’m done, I’ll run over there and check.”

  “Thanks, Mick. We owe you!”

  “Not really. You fixed dinner for us last night. Willow’s having a little trouble eating sometimes. She loved those brownies.” For about thirty seconds, he was a normal guy. Then the incorrigible surfer dude was back. “How about baking a batch of those righteous brownies for us?”

  “It’s a deal!”

  “S’later, sistah!” He was gone before I could “bro” him back.

  “I couldn’t get anyone at the marina entrance to pick up, but Mick was getting ready to leave work. He’s going to run over there for us,” I said speaking through the screen in a voice I hoped was low enough not to set off Pepe again. Brien nodded but didn’t say a word. Bede gave me a hushed thanks.

  Brien and Bede both appeared to be fascinated by Pepe. Pepe was on a perch in his cage and chattering to himself, or so I thought. As it turned out, they were taking turns trying to discover what words Pepe knew.

  “Mick could take a while. I’m going to go see what dirt I can dig up on Gardner and Goldilocks.”

  “More than two dozen words, so far,” was the only response I got—from Bede. I shook my head as I plopped down on the couch and picked up my laptop. Archie’s tail thumped where he was sleeping nearby on a throw rug. I’d barely started searching for information about Earl Gardner and his involvement with the First Annual Fourth of July Regatta in the Cove when my phone rang.

  “You’d better make that a double batch of brownies. I had a run-in with your grouchy detective who told me to get lost and ordered you and Brien not to do any more sleuthing, or else.”

  “Or else, what?” I asked. “What’s his problem?”

  “A knotty one this time,” Mick replied in a snarky tone.

  “Please, no jokes. What’s he doing at the marina?”

  “The number you gave me is for a boat slip. There’s usually a boat there—a skiff that shuttles people and supplies to the Blazing Star.”

  “Do you mean the mega-yacht that’s owned by a Saudi Prince or somebody like that?”

  “That’s the one. This time, though, instead of a skiff, there’s a stiff.”

  “A body?” I asked as I moved my laptop to the couch and took off for the screen door. By the time I got there, Brien and Bede were bounding into the room.

  “Yes, a guy tied to the dock by someone who knows a thing or two about knots.”

  “Who is he?”

  “All Mitchum said before he ordered me out of there was to tell you he no longer needs Pepe’s testimony. Who’s Pepe? Have I met Pepe?”

  “Hang on, let me tell Brien what you just said. Then I’ll let him explain who Pepe is and why Mitchum no longer needs his testimony.” I glanced out the door. All the attention he’d received from Brien and Bede must have worn him out. He was back in the box they put in his cage, snoozing again.

  “Day two before a body turns up—that’s better than we usually do, babe.”

  11 Kid’s Play

  “Mick’s wrong about a Saudi Prince owning the Blazing Star,” Bede said as soon as Brien got off the phone.

  “Uh, that wasn’t Mick’s idea—that was mine. Who does own it?” I asked after confessing my error to the priest in our midst.

  “The owner’s a man known as Nicolai Nizenski. He’s a Russian Oligarch who became a billionaire in the years that followed Perestroika. When Gorbachev’s attempts at reform failed, and the Soviet Union collapsed, men like Nizenski made a grab for money and power. I’ve heard he was one of Yeltsin’s drinking buddies who had an inside track when the turmoil allowed many party loyalists and their friends to get rich quick—very rich, very quickly.”

  “Okay, is there a connection between him and Uri Popov?” Brien asked.

  “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m sure you’ve heard that not all the newly minted Russian billionaires made their money on the up and up. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched for Uri Popov to be a hired hand Nizenski used from time to time to retrieve items of value to him. I’m not talking strictly about jewels or collectibles you might expect to find being auctioned off to the highest bidder in the black market. With his skills, Popov might be more useful to a man like Nizenski to obtain private information.”

  “As in espionage?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’m talking about industrial espionage, though, not government secrets.” I tried to imagine what he was talking about when I remembered some gobbledygook that I’d read about innovations being tested by race participants.

  “By that, do you mean the changes in design by one of the boat makers? I didn’t understand a word of it, but Earl Gardner was bragging about it during one of the interviews he did. He seemed to believe it was the future of racing which was going to be a highlight of the regatta.”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m
referring to as a reason for someone to hire a skilled thief like Uri Popov. If he and Dr. Mason were in the same place when Mason acquired the information, Uri could have hidden the goods in Archie’s collar—with or without telling Dr. Mason that’s what he’d done.”

  “Wow, Bede!” Brien exclaimed. “Maybe Mason figured out what Uri had done and decided to sell the contents of the collar himself and that’s what they were fighting about on the beach. I’ll bet he’d make enough to pay off all of his gambling debts.”

  “It could be, but it would be risky for Mason to get between Nizenski and Popov.” Bede was brooding about the newest twist in our efforts to understand who was behind the trouble that began when Brien rescued Archie. “It would have been even more stupid for Mason to kill Popov and leave him tied up in the slip used by the crew of the Blazing Star.”

  “It’s more like a setup to me,” Brien argued. “All tied up with a knot making sure everyone knows an experienced sailor like Elliot Mason was responsible for Uri’s murder. It’s beyond stupid, though, isn’t it? Mason might be desperate, but he never would have done anything so obvious if he’d killed Uri.”

  “If Dr. Mason’s involved somehow, it could explain why he hasn’t been seen since Thursday,” I said as I held up my fingers and pretended to fire a gun. “I wouldn’t be stunned if he’s found dead, shot by his own gun, with a note about not being able to face his problems anymore.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s also possible. I can’t see Uri Popov letting Mason get the jump on him after what went on between them on the beach. That was Mason’s best chance of killing Popov if that’s what he intended to do. Besides, Mason’s penthouse suite would have been as good a place as any to stage the doctor’s death the way you’ve described it, Kim,” Bede suggested.

  “I’m not sure why, but I bet we know where they went,” Brien suggested. “From the info on the notepad and all their personal stuff Mitchum didn’t find in their suite, I’d say they went to the skiff at the marina on Thursday expecting to spend at least one night on the Blazing Star.”

  “You must be right, Brien, since they packed a bag. More than one bag, remember? Dr. Mason’s medical kit wasn’t at the suite either. I doubt they expected to kill him if they wanted him to play doctor. Does the owner of the mega-yacht have health problems?” I asked.

  “An emergency facelift doesn’t count, does it? I mean, why call a plastic surgeon if you’re having a health problem? Why not call the EMTs or go into the local hospital? By the time they arrived at the boat slip, an ambulance could have been waiting.”

  “True, Brien. The local hospital’s decent. Even if the right medical team wasn’t available, the owner or a guest could be flown by helicopter to a big city hospital or trauma center.” Bede hadn’t said a word. He was deep in thought.

  “If they’re on board the Blazing Star, that would explain why no one has seen them since Thursday and why they haven’t used a credit card or made a withdrawal. I need to check on a few things. You have a relaxing evening at home while I see what I can find out from friends of mine about ties between Nizenski and Popov or the Masons. The question about health problems is a good one, too. I’ll also give Mitchum a call and see what he’ll trade me for more information about the dead man. Maybe he’s discovered some evidence or had a conversation with someone who knows who was hanging around before Uri turned up tied to the pier.”

  “That rules out Nizenski as Popov’s killer, doesn’t it? He wouldn’t have left him floating in the slip used by his skiff,” I added.

  “I agree. It might be a good idea to play ‘I spy’ tomorrow—from a safe and discrete distance, mind you. Call me if you notice anything interesting about the traffic to and from the Blazing Star. Or if you spot Mason or his wife on board. Do you have a good pair of binoculars?” he asked. Brien and I looked at each other and then shook our heads no.

  “I do. I’ll be right back.” Then he dashed out the front door. The priest was back before I could process all that had just happened. When he returned, he handed us a small pair of binoculars with a strap that could hang around my neck. “They’re for birdwatching.”

  Yeah, right, I thought.

  “Thanks, Bede. Let’s see if we can spot any rare birds on or near the Blazing Star,” I said as I examined the binoculars.

  “Here’s a case for the binoculars if you don’t want to wear them all the time. There’s a booklet inside if you have questions about how to use them. I doubt I’ll hear anything of importance from my contacts until tomorrow afternoon. You’ll get an evening off from the priest who keeps showing up unexpectedly, promise!” Then he hugged both of us. “Be careful,” he said, making the sign of the cross in front of us. Then he was gone. That was a very priestly moment for the fortyish man in shorts and an Aloha shirt. I felt blessed.

  “It’ll be nice to have a quiet evening all to ourselves.” As I said that I reached out and slipped my arm around Brien’s waist. He swept me into his arms and kissed me. It tickled, and I giggled. Then, Archie started woofing. The woofs were followed by the “shh” sound Pepe makes.

  Brien and I ran to the screen door. I don’t know how or when, but Archie had gotten out of the house and onto the patio. He was bowing in front of Pepe, inviting him to play. Pepe took off and led Archie on a merry chase one way and then the other. When they finally saw us staring at them, they both stopped, and Pepe settled onto Archie’s back. Brien and I burst out laughing.

  “Giddy up,” Pepe hollered, and then cackled as Archie sprinted away. Pepe sort of rode him like a bucking bronco, using his wings to pop into the air and then settled back down again, as Archie bolted back toward us. Brien had pulled a card out of his pocket that said, Pepe’s Words.

  “I promised Bede I’d write down the new ones. We’re keeping track—giddy up is number forty-three.”

  “Is that normal?” I asked as if anything was ever normal around here.

  “I’m not sure. I still have the searches to do about the jet ski engines. I’ll read a little about parrots. Bede says they’re incredibly intelligent, although there’s some debate about how much of what they say is mimicry.”

  “What we witnessed wasn’t mimicry. That was play!”

  “Bede thinks there’s more to it.”

  “Before you investigate the intelligence of parrots, I need you to put yours away first.”

  “Aw, come on, Mom. Can’t we let the kids play a little while longer, please?”

  “Oh, all right,” I said, “but you have to keep an eye on them. I wonder how they both got out, don’t you?”

  “I’ll have to learn to tie a fancy knot or two to keep Pepe’s cage door shut. Archie’s smart, too, isn’t he?”

  “They’re survivors like us. If they didn’t have something on the ball, they wouldn’t still be here.”

  Brien and I settled in with our laptops and went to work. After half an hour or so, I realized it had suddenly become awfully quiet out there on the patio. Brien must have thought so, too, and ran for the door. When he peered out, he put his fingers to his lips and then signaled for me to join him.

  I could hardly believe it. Archie was asleep on his side with his new best buddy snuggled up under his chin. It was so adorable, my eyes filled with tears. The magic of the moment didn’t last long. The doorbell rang, and chaos erupted.

  “Pizza delivery!” Mick exclaimed when Brien opened the front door. He stepped inside, carrying a stack of pizzas. Willow was right behind him with a bottle of sparkling cider and a box of donuts.

  “Dessert!” she added. “The pizzas are hot, and the donuts are warm.”

  Archie, who was at the back door, hit the bottom of it with his front paw, and it popped open a little. As Brien shut the front door, Archie slipped his foot into the crack he’d created, swung the door wide open, and came inside. In flew Pepe, squawking. Hot! Hot! Hot! was followed by Ay, yi, yi, yi as he settled onto Archie’s back.

  “Basta! Pepe!” Brien opened the back door and stepped ou
tside.

  “Adios, Amigo!” Pepe replied as he flew out onto the patio. Archie’s next trick was to pull his leash from the rack where I’d hung it on a hook.

  “Excuse me, please. Can you set out the food on the bar? Archie’s gotta go; if you know what I mean. I’ll be right back.” I yanked a doggie bag from a pack Bonnie had sent home with us and stepped out into the front yard. Archie did his business, and I cleaned up after him. I was headed around the corner to the trashcan when someone grabbed me from behind and tried to yank Archie’s leash from my hand.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” I screamed. I elbowed the jerk, turned around, kneed him, and he went down. “Brien!” I shrieked as I ripped off the ski mask he wore. The young idiot couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Then, I heard both the front door and the patio door slam.

  Rather than getting out of there while he still could, he reached for my arm, grabbed the doggie bag instead, and tore it from my hand. That was a mistake. He looked at me in horror as if I were a mad woman.

  “Don’t look at me like that—I didn’t dump it on you!”

  Archie chomped down on the knee length shorts my baby-faced assailant wore. As he tried to scoot away, the pants started to come off. When he tried it again, he bumped up against Mick’s legs. His eyes widened in terror at the sight of Brien who was pumped up and had struck a Hulk pose as he stood beside me.

  “Going somewhere?” Brien asked as he called 911 for police assistance. He told the dispatcher to send whoever was available to the house as soon as possible. Then he asked for a message to be sent to Bernie Mitchum that a suspect had been apprehended, who might have information related to his murder investigation.

  “M-m-murder? No way! I was just told to grab the dog, remove his collar, and then set him loose. I wasn’t going to hurt the crazy chick, honest.”

  “Who told you to grab the dog?” I bellowed as loud as I could. Then I raised one eyebrow and then the other hoping that made me look crazier.