Death of a Hot Chick

Death of a Hot Chick - Chapter 10

Fifteen dollars for a temporary water craft registration wasn't too bad. The killer would be state taxes on the entire value of the boat. I definitely had to sell Snapdragon before my thirty days of ownership were up.

I'd nearly reached my dock when I heard Lizzie screech, "She ain't here. You can't do that." I broke into a run. Besides Lizzie, Wes and two other men were on my boat.

"Hey, what's going on here?" I yelled.

"They got the paper," Wes yelled back.

"The paper?" They also had the new dinghy up on the finger pier with the air hissing out. "Who are you and what are you doing on my boat?"

One of the two men turned to me with a bored expression. "Like he said, I've got the paper. The check bounced for this Avon, so we're taking it back, since the lady who bought it is dead and she's not about to make her check good."

"You gonna let him do that?" Lizzie demanded.

"I... You can't take..." But... Nicole paid with a bad check?

"Then pay me $3,042.98," the guy said and dropped his end of the dinghy.

I didn't have three hundred dollars, much less three thousand. "Take it." I scowled at Lizzie, at Wes, at the two men and charged over to my door. I fumbled with the combination and finally got it right. I went inside and slammed the door, which, unfortunately, bounced back instead of making a truly satisfying bang.

"Truly sorry about that."

Just exactly what I didn't need. "Nicole? Where are you?" I didn't see her. I didn't want to see her. Did she know her check wouldn't clear when she wrote it? "Go away," I muttered.

"You haven't found my killer yet, but despite the loss of one small dinghy, you do still have this boat."

Why couldn't I see her? Was she really here, or just in my head? Now she was blackmailing me, pure and simple.

"One can't transfer funds unless you are among the living. Remember, I'm depending on you."

"Nicole, if you can read my thoughts, why can't you tell me..." But she was gone. How did I know that? I had absolutely no idea. But I did know that some days were the absolute pits.

I ignored the men outside taking the dinghy. I ignored the silence that followed when they left. I ignored the possibility that Lizzie might want to talk. I sat and scowled, trying to calm down. I had to get Snapdragon ready to sell. Why was I so upset?

And why was someone banging on my door?

"Hey, anybody home?"

I looked through the window, then reluctantly, opened my door. The man standing on the finger pier beside my boat was one I'd never seen before. Except for his age, and his height, he fit Lizzie's description. Taller and a bit older, but he had the brown hair and worn out jeans. And, like Wes said, that description fit half of the men in Smith Harbor.

I didn't feel friendly. "You're a tourist admiring the scenery?"

"Looks like you could use some help here," he said. "I notice you've got buckets and stuff around. I'm a carpenter by trade and if you need any inside repairs or alterations, I'm your man. Reasonable prices, satisfaction guaranteed."

"You don't want to be here," I muttered. Okay, so it wasn't his fault he'd happened into my worst day. "Sorry. I'm still in the clearing-up phase," I added. "I won't be ready for any carpentry for a long time."

"Miss, guess I'll have to call you Miss since you didn't give me your name. I swear, it's probably as lovely as you are. I can just see you're eager to get out on the bay. Can't be waiting around in dry dock, so to speak. Summer will be over before you know it."