After a violent rainstorm passes over Lotus Bay, Tori Cannon notices that her friend Anissa’s boat is missing from her marina. The women go in search of the craft only to find it floating loose—with a dead man inside who was apparently electrocuted, casting suspicion on Anissa. While Tori tries to figure out what happened, her BFF and roommate, Kathy, has money problems, forcing her to take a job as a server at The Bay Bar. Tori’s navigating her own financial challenges, so she must take a break from sleuthing to return to substitute teaching. But when a gridiron bully takes a swing at her, she’s left battered and bruised—and unable to work.
Can Kathy’s score of a last-minute bridal shower at her B&B save the day? Will Tori’s sleuthing uncover how (and why) the dead man died? Find out in After The Tempest!
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Leaves from the big willow and several maples on the property began to whip around the bait shop like green snowflakes, and yet Tori knew the squall would blow over in a short time. Sometimes, the rain came in waves so that the sun would peek out as though it were in the eye of a hurricane before the onslaught would begin again. But now the rain pounded even harder until Tori could only see a few of the boats in the slips encircling her docks bobbing on the wind-swept waves.
Then, through the raging rivulets of water drenching the bait shop windows, Tori saw a form in a yellow slicker approach. The door was wrenched open, sending in a chilly blast before the wind caught it, slamming it shut again.
Tori’s childhood friend and contractor, Anissa Jackson, pulled the slicker’s hood off her head, shaking out her wiry curls. “It’s not a fit day for man nor beast.”
“And you happen to be neither,” Tori pointed out nervously.
The slicker had only kept Anissa’s upper body dry. Her denim overalls were soaked from the knees down, and her face was dripping as well.
“Why didn’t you wait for the storm to pass before you came over here?” Tori asked.
Anissa had been working on the upper level of Tori’s boathouse. She was in the midst of turning that rustic loft into a luxury suite that Tori would be able to rent out for top dollar…eventually. As they were past Labor Day weekend, the market for such accommodations had petered out. Anissa estimated another week or two to finish the suite. That is if she didn’t get other work. It didn’t matter. Tori hadn’t planned to rent the place until the following summer, anyway.
As though by magic, the pounding rain slackened, and the western shore began to emerge from the mist. Anissa shook her head. “I’ll never get over how fast the weather changes around here.”
“Me, either,” Tori said.
“I’m heading home,” Todd said.
“Me, too,” Mike echoed, and the men left the bait shop for the parking lot.
Tori turned her attention back to the piece of broken china she’d been shaping into a heart with a Dremel. When the bait business was slow, she made pendants to sell to her customers, not that she’d had that many in-person sales. Fingers crossed, come November, she hoped to see an influx of orders from her online shop. Once the Tuesday after Labor Day rolled around, those looking to buy bait evaporated like the puddles in her parking lot after a downpour. Anissa gazed through the window that overlooked the docks and swore. “Damn. My boat’s gone.”
Tori rose from her seat to have a look. “You’re right. It must have broken loose during the storm. We can go retrieve it with one of mine.”
“Now?”
Tori shrugged. “I’m not exactly drowning in customers. Now that the weather’s calmed down, I can close for the few minutes it’ll take to tow it back.”
Tori hung a be right back sign on the bait shop’s door and locked it. But as the women headed down the wet dock to one of the business’s rentals, there was no sign of Anissa’s dinghy out on the bay.
“Where’s my boat? That storm only lasted about fifteen minutes, and the wind came from the north. Do you think it got blown under the bay bridge to the marsh next to Kathy?”
Kathy and Tori met on their first day at SUNY Brockport and had been BFFs ever since. Kathy had a degree in hotel management and now owned a bed and breakfast—Swans Nest—right across the street from Cannon’s Bait & Tackle.
Tori grabbed her phone, tapping Kathy’s name on the contacts list. “Hey, Kath—can you look out the window to see if there’s a boat outside your place? Anissa’s has gone missing.”
“Just a minute.”
It was more than a minute later when Kathy spoke again. “I went outside. No boats by my place.”
“Thanks.” Tori pocketed her phone once again.
The worst of the mist had lifted, and the islands had reappeared to the north. “I don’t see anything sitting out in the bay. What do you think happened to it?” Anissa asked.
“I dunno. Hang on, and I’ll get the binoculars.” Tori retrieved them from the bait shop and locked the door once again. She rejoined Anissa on the dock and scanned the shore to the west. Nothing. They’d have to get on the water to search the eastern side of the bay.
Tori handed the binoculars to Anissa and wished she’d grabbed a towel as they hopped into the boat and sat on the cold, wet seat. “Ewww.”
“My butt wasn’t wet, so now it’ll match my pantslegs,” Anissa said, taking a seat in the bow.
Tori cast off and let the boat drift a few feet before starting the motor. The little vessel took off, leaving a small wake as it plowed through the rippling water.
Anissa twisted like a pretzel, the binoculars pressed to her face. As Tori steered the ten-foot aluminum boat’s twelve-horsepower motor, she saw no point in warning her friend that she’d get a stiff neck. Because of the motor’s roar, there was no way she’d be heard.
They’d passed Fisher’s Point when Anissa lowered the glasses. Tori saw a craft up ahead. “Is that it?” she asked and pointed.
“Those are my registration numbers,” Anissa hollered, sounding elated.
As they approached the boat, Tori could see the frayed rope that had attached the boat to one of the slips on her dock. The storm had done a number on it all right. She set the motor to trolling speed and noticed something else—a tarp?—was mounded in the middle of the small dingy.
Suddenly, Anissa stood, causing the boat to wobble dangerously.
“Anissa!” Tori admonished, abandoning the tiller to grasp the sides of the boat in an effort to steady it and herself.
Anissa plunked down, but it was obvious something was terribly wrong.
“What is it?” Tori asked.
“I think,” Anissa began, “there’s somebody in my boat!”
“What?” Tori had to fight the urge to stand to take a look and sat up straighter, straining to see into the boat. The mound still looked like a tarp to her. She steered the boat closer. Anissa grabbed what was left of the rope and pulled the boat close. The women peered into it.
Under the blue plastic tarp was a man squashed into the space between the seats. His mouth was open, a horrific expression covering his face, and his filmy, open eyes were fixed on the sky above.
Tori swallowed. She’d seen dead men before, and this guy had recently joined that club. “Do you recognize him?” she asked, feeling squeamish.
“No, but his hands,” Anissa said, aghast.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re black.”
Tori didn’t understand. She’d thought the guy was Caucasian. “You mean like yours?”
“No, it’s a white guy—but his hands are…charred.”
Tori’s stomach did a flip-flop. “Holy crap.”
“You’ve got that right,” Anissa said. “What is a dead guy with burned hands doing in my boat? How am I going to explain this to the po-lice? Especially if they send out that disagreeable Detective Osborn.”
Tori swallowed. The Ward County Sheriff’s detective was not one of her favorite people. He seemed to take it as a personal affront whenever he was called to the Cannon Compound.
“Are you sure he’s dead?” Tori asked, dreading the answer.
“Deader than a doornail,” Anissa said, sounding less than thrilled. It was the first time Anissa had encountered a body. Tori had twice had the honor of that distinction. Still, Anissa hadn’t panicked, which said a lot.
“I’d better call nine one one,” Tori said, and pulled her phone from her pocket. She had good service thanks to the cell tower on the ridge nearby and in seconds was speaking with the Ward County 911 dispatcher.
“We’ll be towing the boat and the body to Cannon’s Bait & Tackle at Ridge and Resort Roads.” When she ended the call, she pocketed the phone once again and cast about until she found a couple of bungee cords.
“You expect to tow my boat with those?” Anissa asked skeptically.
“We’ve got nothing else.”
Anissa shook her head, but made a square knot to hold the cords together, and snagged and tied them to the front of the dingy. Anissa took her seat again, looking perturbed as they started back south again.
“I wish I didn’t have to look at a dead body all the way back to your place.”
“Then you’d better shut your eyes,” Tori said reasonably, even if she didn’t feel quite that calm.
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