Foul Play

Twenty-Seven

Shep noticed that his palms were sweating, and he was a little short of breath. He dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Phyllis Grant?”

“Yes.”

“This is Shepherd Troutman. Brooke Alley suggested I call you.”

“How very nice. My friends call me Phil.”

“And I’m Shep. Would you like to have dinner this evening?”

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll be aboard a yacht. May I collect you at the town dock at six o’clock?”

“Can you make it six-thirty?”

“Of course. I’ll be aboard a runabout. How will I recognize you?”

“I’ll have a rose clenched in my teeth.”

“I’ll find you. See you then.” He hung up, and strangely, he was calmer.

Shep made the arrangements with the captain of Breeze, and he was on his dock to be picked up at the appointed hour. The captain welcomed him aboard. “Mr. Troutman, I’m Tim, and we’re delighted you’re joining us this evening.” He led Shep to the fantail, then into the saloon. “Would you like to dine inside or on the fantail?”

“If there’s not too much breeze, on the fantail, please.”

Tim handed him a card. “This is the chef’s proposed menu and wines,” he said. “Or you can request anything you like.”

“His menu looks good.”

Tim gave him a brief tour of the yacht, including the owner’s cabin, aft, which had the bed already turned down.

“Do you know Hadley Harbor?” Shep asked.

“Yes, lovely place. We can anchor there for dinner. If you like.”

“Just fine.”

“I’m told you have some security concerns, so I’ll station a couple of crew on the top deck to keep a sharp eye out for intruders.”

“Good idea.”

They anchored in Hadley Harbor, put the boarding stairs down, and winched down a mahogany tender from the top deck. “A crew member will drive you the short distance to Woods Hole and bring you back here,” Tim said.

Shep boarded the handsome tender and took a seat, while the boat sped across the channel to Woods Hole. There was only one woman on the town dock — tall brunette, wearing white trousers, a red-and-white-striped top, and a red jacket. They pulled alongside her. “Phil?”

“Shep?”

“Please come aboard.” He assisted her to a seat, then they pulled away from their anchorage. “We’re dining in Hadley Harbor,” he said.

“How lovely.”

Minutes later they were seated on the fantail sofa, ordering drinks.

“Brooke mentioned something about security concerns,” Phil said. “What is that about?”

“I did some business with some people who turned out to be disagreeable,” Shep said, “and I don’t want to see or hear from them. I hope you don’t mind the precautions.”

“You mean the man on the top deck with a rifle?”

“I expect so. I’m leaving that to the captain. I understand you’re a painter. In what style?”

“Sort of impressionist, I suppose. I paint what I see. And you, Shep. What do you do?”

“I had a career in a family business, and when my father passed on, I sold it.”

“To the disagreeable people?”

“They were agreeable enough, until after we had closed, then they began making demands that weren’t covered by our contract and I declined to have anything more to do with them. They keep trying to arrange a meeting, one that I have no wish to attend.”

“Are you hoping they’ll get tired and go away?”

“Exactly.”

“And where are you living in the meantime?”

“I left Lenox, in Massachusetts, and moved to New York.”

“Where?”

“I have an apartment at the Carlyle Hotel. And you? Are you in Woods Hole the year around?”

“No, I go back to New York in the autumn. I have an apartment in the Dakota, on Central Park West.”

“Then you’re conveniently located.”

She laughed. “I try to be. How long have you had the yacht?”

“Oh, it belongs to some business associates, who were kind enough to lend it to me for our evening.”

“I thought you were retired.”

“I’m an investor, now.” He showed her the menu. “How does this sound? I’m told we can order anything we like.”

“Looks good to me. I eat anything.”

“So do I.”

There was the sound of another boat’s engines, and Captain Tim appeared. “Would you mind stepping into the saloon for a moment?” he asked. “We have some passersby who are a little too curious.”

They picked up their drinks and stepped into the saloon, where the blinds had been lowered, while the captain stepped out on deck.

“Beautiful boat!” someone yelled.

“Thank you!” Tim yelled back.

“May we come aboard and have a look around?”

“I’m afraid not. The owner does not welcome uninvited guests.”

“Is he aboard? May I speak to him?”

“He is at dinner and does not wish to be disturbed.”

“Perhaps tomorrow then?”

“Perhaps not, and please keep your distance. We wouldn’t want an incident, would we?”

“Whatever you say.”

They heard the boat put into gear and begin to motor away.

Tim came back into the saloon. “Perhaps it would be better to serve dinner inside,” he said.

“Perhaps so,” Shep replied.

“Is that what you’ve been expecting?” Phil asked.

“I haven’t been expecting anything,” Shep said. “Least of all, you. You are an unexpected delight.”

Dinner was served.