Free Death of a Hot Chick by Norma Huss Page B

believe it.
    Then, suddenly realizing what she’d said,
Kaye backtracked like crazy. “Forget what I just said. She was
determined, decisive. Perhaps she didn’t think through all the
downsides. Perhaps I could have helped, counseled her. But, I do
see, that if she were buying all of her father’s outstanding stock,
it does make sense that she didn’t have thirty dollars in cash to
give you.”
    So she believed me. Belatedly. Big whoop.
“I’m tired,” I said. “Don’t you think we’ve looked enough for
whatever you think we might find?”
    Kaye nodded. We’d made all new piles of the
junk, but found nothing. She said, “No evidence of what the thief
might have been looking for.”
    “ What evidence? A hole in this mess
that says, ‘Look, there used to be
something immensely valuable right here.’ ”
    Kaye stared at me, not the stare that
used to shrivel me into a jelly-mass. I’d seen a lot worse lately.
Starting with the Coast Guard pictures of my burned-to-ashes
boat Honey , and ending with
Nicole the ghost.
    Then Kaye grinned. “Okay, I’m through. Go to
bed. You look like hell. Speaking in a loving manner, of
course.”
    “ Of course.”
    ~ ~
    I really meant to go right to bed. I was
certainly tired enough. I put on my jammies and thought about that
soft mattress we’d uncovered in the V-berth. I tossed a pillow on
top, pushed the piles to one side and climbed up, pulling a blanket
over me.
    Yeah, this was the life. The slight movement
of gentle waves could always lull me to sleep despite my worries.
There were no killers, no intruders, no empty purses. I stared up
through the hatch overhead. Too much light from the one pole light
at the marina office to see the stars like I would at an isolated
anchorage. I leaned my head back ’til I could see the anchor locker
nestled in the bow.
    The anchor locker. We hadn’t searched
that.
    I grabbed the flashlight, hunched myself
around, slipped a finger inside the catch, opened the door, and
turned on the flashlight.
    The coiled anchor rode smelled musty, even
though it was completely dry. Little colored plastic tags lay,
woven into the fiber to measure off the feet as the line payed out.
Would I have to remove all that line to see if there was anything
underneath? Not tonight. Too much trouble. I flashed around the
interior one last time. There was a small piece of paper stuck low,
under a few coils of the rope. I pulled it out.
    That’s when I heard her voice. “Well, it’s about time.”
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    Slowly, I transferred the note to my left
hand and looked up. In the dim glow from the flashlight, I saw a
shadow of Nicole, sitting on the edge of the V-berth. She tipped
her head, pushed a few strands of her long hair behind her ear,
brushed an invisible spot from her silk blouse.
    “ Nicole. Is this paper yours?” As I
watched, the apparition paled, but the voice was strong.
    “ You found it.”
    “ What is it?” Should I ask permission
to unfold the paper? But when I looked up, Nicole was completely
gone. “Nicole,” I shouted.
    “ Don’t worry. I’m
here.”
    The voice was Nicole’s, but there was no
body.
    “ I can’t see you.”
    “ Does that
matter?”
    “ No, I guess not.” I hesitated. “Are
you always here, even if I don’t know it? Or are you only here when
I see...that is, when I’m aware of your presence?”
    “ That’s not the question,
as you well know. Cyd, I’m depending on you. The question is who
killed me. If you don’t know, do the police?”
    “ I guess not. And I.... Can’t you give
me a clue? Anything?.”
    “ The police do know that my
murder is top priority, don’t they? They should be cooperating with
you. I hate name-droppers, but in this case it is entirely
warranted.”
    What did she mean? I moved the flashlight
over the paper. Too dim to read the pale, waving lines of
script.
    “ I meant you could use my
name, of course.”
    “ You read my mind too? If that’s true,
why....”
    “