Death of a Hot Chick Read Free Page B

it?”
    “ It belongs to Nicole.” With a jolt, I
realized I should have added, “and me.” How could I explain that
title to anyone but Wes?
    The trooper must have kept talking, but I
didn’t hear him. Instead, I remembered her voice. “Take it,” she’d
said. “It’s yours.” When I saw her body, I’d known what she meant.
A trade-off. Tit for tat. Not payment for supplies. Strictly a
business proposition. She didn’t give up much—just the title to one
boat completely useless to a dead person. In exchange, she wanted
something quite impossible—the killer’s name. And, she expected me
to find him.
    ~ ~
    8:30 am
    Under the grime, Snapdragon was white gel-coat with one blue
stripe the length of the cabin. Stainless steel grab rails were
placed at strategic spots. A handsome boat once, she would be again
when I was finished. I’d started at the logical place yesterday,
the roof of the pilot house, then on to the bow. But the roof
needed more attention. There were no steps like on newer boats, and
the deck box wasn’t quite tall enough, but the raised roof over the
V-berth was. I lifted my bucket, then crawled on top of the cabin.
The second scrubbing was harder—the remaining dirt, almost a stain,
was stubborn. Still, under the sheen of the water more and more of
the surface shone. Snapdragon was a beauty, even if she wasn’t a sailboat.
    Was she really mine now? No matter who she
belonged to, there’s absolutely nothing better than working on a
boat, bringing her to life. I could happily work for days, doing
nothing else, but I wouldn’t. I’d have to look for another job—one
to pay for food.
    “ Ahoy, the boat.”
    Another cop, but I knew this one, Smith
Harbor’s own. “Hi, Doug. I mean, Officer Yarnell. I guess you’re
helping the state police?”
    He glanced up, then back down at the paper
in his hand. “Cyd Denlinger?” he asked like he hadn’t been at Al’s
memorial service two weeks before. Not to mention that his whole
family had lived two doors down from my family and I’d been the
weirdest, most annoying brat in the neighborhood. Or even that I’d
been one of his loyal backyard detectives for a whole glorious
summer. He added, “Oh, yeah. You’re one of the Landis kids. And the
state troopers were covering for us last night.”
    I nodded, and he went on like I really
wanted to hear old memories. His eyes lit up and he suppressed a
laugh. “That accident was my first case. Did you know that? You
were sure mad at that guy. Can’t say I blame you. DUI. Gregory
Norris, right?”
    I pulled my brush out of the bucket, but
that didn’t stop him.
    “ He turned himself around, I
hear.”
    “ So they say.” I moved to a new spot
and continued scrubbing.
    He finally got the hint. “You found a body.
I believe you also identified Nicole Joline. How did you know
her?”
    I sat back on my heels and gave him my
full attention, since he was now talking murder. “I’m doing a job
for her. Cleaning and minor repair of this lobster trawler. She
planned on selling Snapdragon .”
    “ And you are still working for her? Or
are you just fulfilling jobs already paid for?”
    Did I actually want to tell Doug the boat
was mine now? If it was. “Let’s just say I might as well keep
working until everybody stops asking questions. How about
that?”
    “ Oh, yes, I do remember the younger
Cyd,” he said, which I ignored completely. He didn’t wait for any
comment I might make, just asked the next question. “How well did
you know Nicole Joline? Have you known her long?”
    “ Didn’t. My sister Kaye knew her.
Pretty well, I guess. She was her teacher.”
    “ That would be your sister the college
professor at Hanson Academy, right?”
    Did he keep tabs on every family in Smith
Harbor? At least he didn’t run down the list of our whole family
with Kaye’s mostly absentee husband, my sister Pearl with her
namesake Pearl Mesta’s complex of striving to be the hostess with
the mostest, or my