Free Board Stiff: A Dead-End Job Mystery by Elaine Viets

wanted to pound the stripling into the sand. “It wasn’t awesome,” he said. “It was sad. But not as sad as you. Get out of here before I drown your skinny ass.”
    He took a step forward and the Legend backed away. “Okay, okay. I was just trying to give you some business.”
    The Legend slunk up the beach past Kim’s lifeguard tower and disappeared.
    “Third creep this morning,” Jim said. “They all want the death board. That’s what they call it, like it’s an amusement park ride. Here comes another weirdo. Why’s he all dressed up?”
    The large man was overdressed for the beach. A navy polo shirt, khaki shorts and loafers were formal dress in South Florida. He walked straight up to Jim and said, “Are you James Sundusky?”
    “Yes,” Jim said.
    The man slapped a sheaf of papers into Jim’s hand, said, “You’ve been served,” and waddled off to the parking lot.
    Jim paled under his tan and sat down heavily in his yellow folding chair. He read the first page and said, “Daniel Odell is suing me for the wrongful death of his wife.” His voice was doormat flat. “The suit says I didn’t give Ceci the appropriate basic training and failed to offer reasonable advice on currents, tides, rocks and other hidden and/or obvious threats.”
    “But you did,” Helen said. “We both heard you warn her to stay away from the pier. I even videoed you when you pointed out the areas where she couldn’t paddle.”
    “I know it’s a shock to see it in print,” Phil said, “but you were expecting the husband to sue.”
    “But not for this much,” Jim said. “He wants ten million dollars. I carry five million in insurance. Most companies my size only carry a million. I thought I was covered for emergencies.”
    “Your insurance company will examine his claim and see you weren’t negligent,” Phil said. “Plus, Ceci signed a waiver. They’ll deny the claim.”
    “Daniel Odell can still sue me,” Jim said. “See this lawyer’s name?” He pointed at the paper. “The guy’s ads are on every bus bench in the county. He’s already started his publicity campaign. That’s why Daniel e-mailed the photo of him and Ceci to Channel Fifty-four.”
    “You don’t know that,” Phil said.
    “I know juries act on emotion,” Jim said. “I’ll be the careless guy who killed Daniel’s sweet wife.”
    “You weren’t careless,” Helen said. “We’ve got video that says otherwise.”
    “It won’t make any difference,” Jim said. “This lawyer is a pit bull. Defending that lawsuit will bleed me dry. That photo of Daniel and his wife says it all.”
    A hopeless silence descended. From far away, Helen heard children laughing and saw a couple walking in the surf. That broke the spell.
    “Daniel didn’t love his wife,” Helen said. “We heard how mean he was. I bet there are other witnesses. He’s staying at a tourist hotel called Sybil’s Full Moon. I used to work there. Maybe it’s time I pay Sybil a visit.”
    Jim managed a weak smile. “You really think I have a chance?”
    “I know it,” Helen said. “I’m glad I wore shorts today instead of a swimsuit. I can be at the hotel in twenty minutes.”
    The trip took half an hour in the tourist traffic. She shuddered as she drove past the Dumpster behind the hotel. She’d seen a young woman’s body tossed in there like trash. The memory haunted Helen’s nightmares, along with the suicidal shooting in the lobby. Two people had died violently at the hotel when she’d worked there.
    Helen parked her car far away from the Dumpster, then made a wide circle around it and stepped into the hotel’s sun-splashed lobby. A dozen tourists with painfully new sunburns and bulging flowered suitcases were waiting to go home.
    Helen always returned to the Full Moon with mixed feelings. Her bond with the hotel staff had been forged with sweat as well as blood. When she worked there, Helen had cleaned twenty-one bathrooms, made thirty-eight beds and emptied