Support Your Local Pug. Lane Stone

mean when we didn’t tell you,” Shelby corrected.

      “It was Billy B. that was murdered,” I said. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to imagine the deli without him there singing opera.”

      Rick took one step back and then another. Dayle’s arm was left in midair. “Billy B.?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

      “I’m sorry,” I said again.

      “Dad’s really going to go off the deep end. Billy B. had a way of getting him back on track when he had one of his crazy ideas.” He hesitated and then gave a sad smile. “Like the time he wanted to have a drive-thru built onto the front of Mozart’s.”

      I laughed out loud. “On Second Street?”

      “Yeah. Can you imagine?” Rick said.

      “No, I can’t,” I said. “Traffic is almost at a standstill on Second Street during the season, and pretty heavy year-round.”

      “I told him the city would never approve it, and that ended it, but it was the first and, as far as I know, the only time he and Billy B. ever argued. I’ve got to find him.” He pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed, then sighed. “Went straight to voice mail.”

      “Rick, getting back to something you said, has your father ever unintentionally killed anyone?” I asked.

      “He’s come close a few times. He has one crazy scheme after another—always has. All my life. Look, Sue, I’ll reimburse you for the dog food.”

      “Let’s wait and see if he stole it,” I said.

      “The car you described does sound like his and he would never let anyone else drive The Bentley,” Rick said. “I can tell you that much!”

      “Hold on,” Shelby said. “That was not a Bentley.”

      “Whoa,” I said. Even I knew that.

      “That’s just what he would tell women to be sure they didn’t cancel dates with him.”

      Shelby, Dayle, and I propped our heads on our elbows on the counter, ready to listen. “After my mom died, he would talk women, more like pressure or guilt them, into going out with him but they would usually cancel as soon as they could get away. He started telling them that he would pick them up in his Bentley and his success rate went up.”

      Dayle stared. “So women started going out with him?”

      “Oh, hell, no. The percentage that canceled dropped, but as far as I know no one would get in that old heap.”

      “The deli is always busy, and in the summer I’ve seen tourists lined up outside, so why does he drive that thing?” I asked. “He could afford a new car.”

      “He’s just different,” Rick said stretching out each of the three words. He seemed about to say more but stopped and shook his head, then he put his hand on the back of Dayle’s neck, drawing her to him. “Sweetie, we need to finish the deliveries.”

      They headed for the door, holding hands. “Sue, thanks for, uh, not telling Chief Turner everything you know,” Rick called over his shoulder.

      “I’m afraid all that did was buy a little time,” I said. I watched the doors close and wondered what the cost to me would be. Had I just sold any chance I had of a relationship with John? Did I want to date him?

      I wanted to be outside and I needed time to think and to feel.

      “Shelby, when is the glass person coming?”

      “He’s here now,” she called back. “That’s his truck in the parking lot.”

      I looked to where she was pointing. Sure enough, a man was walking through our parking lot, carrying two panes of glass. Since it was February, the sky was already turning pink and I thought about the “red sky at night” line. It probably held for paddle boarders and surfers, too.

      “Will you be okay if I leave for a while?” I asked.

      “Sure,” she said. “I recognize that look on your face.”

      I walked Abby home. So that I can run quick errands from work, I usually drive the Jeep over, but today I had walked. I couldn’t drive over the spot where Billy B. had died. Not that I planned to be a pedestrian the rest of my life, I just needed a little time to pass.

      The yellow crime scene tape had been taken away and the house felt mine again.

      I changed into my wetsuit and then I loaded my paddleboard, in its board bag, onto the top of the Jeep. I tossed a towel, my personal floatation device, my paddle, and a deck bag in the back and headed out.

      Five minutes later I was parked at Lewes Beach, putting on water booties, and pulling on the PFD. A few minutes after that I was in the water stand-up paddling. I had attached a suction light onto the bottom of my board and I was floating in a pool of light. I felt like I was standing on the ocean itself.

      The leash connecting my ankle to the board had me feeling more grounded than I had since Shelby’s call telling me that a dead body was lying in my driveway.

      What did I know about Billy B.? He was just as much a part of Lewes as the Buckingham Pet Palace. Maybe more since he had been around longer. I had never had a real conversation with him. Just like everyone I knew, I had thanked him for his singing and that was all. I pulled my paddle through the water and imagined him as he sang. He had a faraway look on his face as his beautiful music filled the deli. When customers applauded, he would come out of his intense concentration and look around shyly. He made people happy for a living. Yet, someone had killed him. Why had he come to my home?

      “Sue!” a woman’s voice called.

      I looked at the ocean surrounding me for the source. It was Charlie, with her husband, Jerry, on their SUPs. They were headed my way and I waved.

      “We heard about that guy who sings German opera getting killed,” Jerry said.

      “And he was found by your garage door?” Charlie asked, the excitement showing in her friendly voice.

      “His name was Billy B.,” I said.

      They nodded. “I guess I knew that at some time,” Jerry said. “It’ll be weird to go to Mozart’s and not see him there.”

      “The only opera I ever heard was from him,” Charlie said, with a laugh. She was looking down at the water, paddling to stay in place.

      “Me, too.” I started thinking about how much I wanted Chief Turner to find his relatives.

      I was only vaguely aware that Jerry was telling a joke. It had to do with a woman going to the dentist and grabbing his family jewels as soon as she was in the chair. The punchline was something like the patient saying, “So we’re not going to hurt one another, are we?” I laughed and brought my attention back to where it should have been, especially on the water.

      “Where’s Rick?” Charlie was saying. “He said he was coming out.”

      “I wonder if we’re ever going to get Dayle on a paddleboard or a surfboard?” I asked.

      I looked at the shore and saw a Lewes police car driving out of the parking lot. The line, “So we’re not going to hurt one another, are we?” played in my head.