Dead Man Waltzing

Chapter 17

I barely had time to snatch a breath before I splatted into the water, fanny-first. The scummy water closed over my head. I kicked hard for the surface and felt one sandal drift away. Damn, I thought, as my head popped out of the water and I took a breath. I liked those sandals. Excited voices called from the gangway, the boat, and the dock, and a waving array of hands reached down to me. Oil slicked the water with rainbow colors, and fast-food wrappers, cigarette butts, and other trash floated around me. The ick factor outweighed any fear of drowning. I could swim and I was only feet from the shore… it wasn’t like I was in danger, except maybe from the hull of the Plantation Queen, which loomed a little too close for comfort.

Taking two strokes toward the dock, I reached up and grabbed for a helping hand at random, feeling a strong hand close over mine. A second man grasped my other arm and the two hauled me straight up from the water until my torso fell over the dock. I suspected I looked more like a half-drowned muskrat than a seductive mermaid as I sat up and slicked soggy hair off my face. “Thanks,” I gasped.

A bearded crew member, the braid on his sleeve suggesting he might be the captain, hurried over. “Are you all right, miss?”

“Fine,” I said, “although I’ve lost a shoe.”

He gave my remaining sandal a disapproving look. “Those heels are dangerous. Not suitable for boating. It’s not surprising that you tripped.”

From my dock-level perspective, I had a great view of a lot of feet, and almost all the women wore shoes just as impractical as mine. I shot the captain a look and got to my feet, pulling off my sandal so I stood barefoot on the dock. I thought about telling him that I hadn’t tripped, that I’d been pushed, but thought better of it. I’d sound like a crazy lady. There was no way I could prove someone deliberately knocked me into the water, and I had no clue who it was anyway. I accepted the towel someone handed me and wrung out my hair before draping the fluffy white cotton around my shoulders.

“Stacy!” Danielle skidded to a halt beside me. “I was still on the boat… I saw you fall. Are you okay?” Her pretty features twisted with worry and she hugged me, disregarding my soggy state. “Your dress!”

I looked down at the sodden silk clinging to my curves. “I think it’s a goner.”

“Come on. Let’s get you home.”

The captain, probably relieved that I hadn’t uttered any of the words small-business owners most dread-“sue,” “fault,” or “lawyer”-gave me a smile and promised me a free trip on the Plantation Queen anytime I wanted. I thanked him and looked around at the diminished crowd as Danielle dragged me away. I didn’t recognize anyone. Whoever had pushed me was long gone.

The rain had quit as suddenly as it started, and the sun had reappeared, turning the puddles and soaked earth into a soil-scented steam bath. Danielle signaled for a taxi, but I told her I’d rather walk. She gave in after a brief argument and we started back toward my house. I carried the lone sandal in one hand and left a trail of drips all the way home. The sidewalk’s warm bricks felt good against my bare feet.

“You might need a tetanus shot,” Danielle said as I unlocked my front door. “There’s no telling what was in that water.”

“They gave me one when I got shot,” I said, stripping to bra and undies in the foyer so I wouldn’t drip all over the hardwood floors. The scar on my left arm was still livid and I ran my fingers over it, remembering the terror I’d felt when facing a murderer with a gun. Danielle fetched a garbage bag and I reluctantly balled the dress up and stuffed it in. “I liked that dress,” I said.

“How did you slip, anyway?”

I headed for my bedroom and a warm shower, Dani trailing me. “Someone pushed me.”

“What!” Danielle settled on the bed while I disappeared into the bathroom, stripped, and got in the shower.

Warm water sluiced over me, washing away the film left by the murky Potomac. “I said someone pushed me,” I yelled over the water’s pounding.

“Are you sure? There were a lot of people trying to get down the gangplank at the same time. Maybe someone bumped you by accident.”

I stayed silent, ninety percent sure the elbow in my ribs had been deliberate. After a moment, Danielle continued, “Well, if it wasn’t an accident, who was it?”

I’d given that some thought on the walk home. “Greta or Conrad Monk,” I suggested, “or Sarah Lewis. I don’t think I knew anyone else on the boat.” Getting out of the shower, I turbaned my hair in a towel and wrapped another one around myself. I walked into the bedroom.

“I knew you shouldn’t have made up that story about having the manuscript,” Danielle said with gloomy “I told you so” satisfaction. “Someone’s already trying to bump you off.”

“Oh, please. No one tried to kill me. There were dozens of people around and the water wasn’t that deep and I was six inches from the dock. If someone had wanted to kill me, he or she would’ve done better to toss me off the boat in the middle of the Potomac and hope I couldn’t swim.”

Danielle’s silence conceded my point. Ducking into the closet, I got dressed and reappeared in shorts and a T-shirt. “What are you going to do now?” Dani asked.

“Dry my hair.”

She threw a pillow at me. “Then what?”

“I don’t know.” I’d had enough investigating for the day, to tell the truth. I changed the subject. “Have you thought any more about Mom’s invitation? I told her I’d go.”

Danielle looked at me as if I’d volunteered to be part of a firing squad tasked with shooting her.

“Mom really wants you to come, too,” I coaxed. “We’ll have a good time. Don’t you remember what fun we had shell collecting? And how we got up in the middle of the night to watch the sea turtles hatch and make a dash for the ocean?”

“I remember Dad waking us and walking us down to the beach. He let me carry the flashlight.”

“Mom was there, too. She tried to scare away the herons eating the baby turtles by waving her arms and singing that Jim Croce song.”

“‘Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.’” An almost-smile lit Dani’s face briefly. “It didn’t even faze those herons.”

I let the subject drop, not wanting to push too hard and have Dani decide she wasn’t coming. Sometimes, not getting a “no” was progress.