With any upwelling comes a quick and voluminous response. When there is plenty, plenty will come for it. The growth of plant life brings small fish and these bring the medium fish and these bring the large fish and all of these call on the garbage disposals of the sea – the creatures that eat everything. And, with all these fish, fishermen come, too. And so, a feeding frenzy begins.
My upwelling – the news in the redhead and robbery cases, the TIBA meeting, the store’s growing success – all served to entice the predators.
My phone rang early the next morning, as Willie and I were walking to work. I’d had a decent sleep, only waking up twice from bad dreams, and with coffee in hand, I was ready to tackle the next Beach Read event. Sadie was talking before I even answered. “Something’s happened,” she told me hurriedly. “I’ve been up all night listenin’.”
“What?” I urged, though a large part of me didn’t want to know.
“Ricky Wakefield came home yesterday afternoon, and he was pissed,” she revealed. “I mean, like furious. For a while, all I heard was breakin’ glass and banging stuff like a tornado was goin’ through the wheelhouse.”
“Well, he was pulled in for questioning yesterday,” I reasoned. “He was probably mad about that.”
“Went on for hours,” Sadie explained, “and he was sayin’ stuff like how much he hated this town and everyone in it, how he couldn’t trust anyone, how his friends ain’t even his friends.”
“Sounds like he was throwing a royal fit,” I concluded.
“He said that if this town hadn’t been so interfering, his mom would still be alive,” Sadie went on.
“That’s a reach,” I told her. “His mom died of a drug overdose.”
“Yeah, he said, and I thought this was weird, he’d had two mammas stolen from him,” Sadie reported.
“Could mean mom and the grandmother.” Henry was already packing up his sleep gear when I entered the store. I tossed him a wave and a smile, set my coffee on the counter, and switched on the lights. I unleashed Willie, and he set off to sniff out the store, and inevitably plop down on the beanbags in the kids’ section or, if he was hot, behind the counter on the hardwood.
“You’re probably right. Forgot about that surly old woman who used to live there,” Sadie laughed. “She was as mean as Delores is crazy.”
“Well, Luanne was abusive, so it must run in the family,” I added. “What else happened?”
“Well, J.J. came home from his so-called appointments and tried to calm Ricky down,” Sadie continued, “but it didn’t do no good. Ricky told him that he was going to do something epic to this town, that they’d forever remember his name and how they’d robbed ‘em of his childhood. He talked ‘bout havin’… what was it?” Sadie shuffled papers around, and said, “I had to write some stuff down ‘cause he was talkin’ so much and I didn’t want to forget. Ah, here it is. Havin’ ‘nough drugs to turn the whole town into addicts-”
“How on earth would he have that kind of supply?”
“Said somethin’ ‘bout it bein’ a gift from heaven,” Sadie said, “whatever that means. He also said he was goin’ to do it at Octoberfest.”
“Octoberfest?” I repeated dumbly. “I don’t get it. What’s he going to do at Octoberfest? Sell drugs?”
Sadie sighed. “He never said specifically, and I listened to ‘em all night hopin’ he’d, you know, explain it for the rest of us. No such luck.” A rapping at the door made Willie bark. Chris Kayne stood on the other side of the glass door, holding a white bag of donuts and smiling. I rushed over and unlocked the door to let him inside. I waved him in, and told him I’d just be a minute.
“So, Ricky Wakefield claims to have an endless supply of drugs. He wants to turn the entire town into addicts, and he wants to do it during Octoberfest?”
“I know it don’t make a lot of sense,” Sadie replied, “but that’s why I wanted to tell you all ‘bout it. If anyone could figure out what the hell he’s talkin’ about, it’s you. Right? Oh, and there’s one more thing. Before he passed out from drinkin’, Ricky made a phone call. I couldn’t hear the other end, but I could hear Ricky. Ricky called ‘em Hyde-”
“Hyde?” I repeated.
“Yep, weird. Don’t know anyone in Tipee with that name,” Sadie said, “and whoever it was, well, he calmed Ricky down. Ricky said somethin’ ‘bout bein’ tired of bein’ an errand boy, talked ‘bout makin’ his mark on Octoberfest, how this town has underestimated him, blah, blah, blah, by the end of the conversation, Ricky was normal again. No more ragin’.”
“So, maybe this friend talked him out of his plans?” I hoped. Chris took his donuts to the counter, grabbed himself a barstool and set out some napkins. He offered Henry some breakfast, which was gratefully accepted.
“Not sure,” Sadie replied, “for the time bein’ anyway.”
“Wonder what he meant when he said he was tired of being an errand boy,” I prompted her.
“I thought that was weird, too. Only people I ever see ‘em with is Wake and J.J. and Ricky ain’t an errand boy for neither of them. Hard for me to picture him takin’ orders from anyone.”
“Me, too.”
“I’ll keep my ears on and let you know if he talks about it again,” Sadie suggested, though I doubted she needed any encouragement from me to keep listening to her neighbors. We said our quick good-byes and I joined Henry and Chris for donuts – a delicacy for me since Mrs. Britt routinely denied me service in her bakery.
“Everything okay?” Chris asked. “You seem a bit preoccupied.”
I shrugged. “I’m always preoccupied, Chris, but I’m fine.” We went on to talk about plans for the next Beach Read party, and were interrupted by another rapping at the glass door. The predators were swirling. Aunt Clara.
“You could ignore her,” Chris suggested slyly. “The door’s locked. She can’t come in.”
I smirked. “I know, but she’s family. I keep hoping that one day, she’ll give up on her dastardly plans to ruin me and just be my aunt again.”
“Wishful thinking,” Chris decided.
I turned the deadbolt on the door, and pulled it open. “Good-morning, Clara.” Clara edged her way inside, maneuvering her head so that the large peacock feather in her hat wouldn’t get hung up in the entrance. She turned her attention to Henry and Chris, and smiled coyly.
“Well, hello Mr. Kayne and, um… you there. Seems inappropriate to be behind locked doors with so many men, but with a name like Delilah, I s’pose it’s expected.” she taunted.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. You’re just jealous that I’ve made so many friends.”
Her penciled eyebrow jutted up to the few wrinkles on her forehead, and she said, “Hardly. I honestly don’t know how you keep them all straight. You’ve got Officer Teague, Chef Mike down the street, this young’un, and a’course, the old geezer there, all pinin’ after you. How do you do it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I urged her. “You were right, Chris. Wishful thinking.”
“And of course, I heard tell of yet another suitor,” she added with her teasing pink smile. “I can’t wait to tell your mamma all ‘bout the man you met in the hotel room at the Peacock. She’d love to hear ‘bout that.”
How Clara found out about Jonathan Dekker was beyond me, but wasn’t surprising. The island’s secrets floated on the breezes, one person to the next like a virus. Curious about Jonathan’s prompt departure, I’d called his cell phone since he left, only to get his voicemail. I didn’t want to talk to him, but the fact that he’d left so quickly didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t take my calls, but I know he made it home safely. He’d posted a comment on his public Facebook page about being ready to get back to school.
I laughed at Clara’s coolly delivered contempt. “You’re just angry because I bested you,” I told her, “and I don’t care about your gossip. The people who’d buy your slander, I don’t care what they think and the ones I do care about, they know better. So, if that’s all you’ve got for me today, then you might as well leave.”
Her calculating smile faltered for a microsecond. Then, she said, “Actually, I didn’t come over here to talk about your overactive love life.” I rolled my eyes at how untrue her description was, but didn’t bother arguing. “The board has decided to add some safety inspections to your fix-up list. The buildin’s old and we’re concerned that Beach Read might have problems beyond the cosmetic, kinda like you.”
I winced at the remark and wanted to rip her peacock feather off her hat and shove it down her throat. Instead, I took a quiet breath. “I’m sure that any TIBA decisions concerning Beach Read can be written in a letter, signed, and mailed to me. I have no need for these neighborly visits, and would rather like it if you’d just stay out of my business and stay out of my store.” In spite of her protests, I gave her a gentle shove back out the door, and closed it quickly. I rested my back on the glass, and tried to ignore her fuming.
“Ah, Delilah,” Chris said, chuckling and pointing behind me, “your door has a nibble.”
I turned around. The peacock feather protruded from the doorway, fluttering wildly on my side, while Clara shuffled to pull her head away from the door on the other. I had her caught by the hat.
“For goodness sake’s, Delilah!” she called with irritation, having to bend over slightly so as not to rip the hat off her head or the feather off the brim. “Let me go!”
My hands went to my hips and I laughed. “I don’t know, boys. Should I keep her?”
“You might wish to have her stuffed,” Henry advised, “and mounted atop your Jeep, a mobile tribute to your victory.”
The three of us laughed while Clara grew red with frustration. “Let me out!” she ordered again. “If you ruin this hat, I’ll make you pay for it!”
“I’ll buy you the hat,” Chris offered, stepping closer to eye the spectacle. “It’s worth it.”
I shook my head, and sighed. “All good things must come to an end.” I unlocked the door, and Clara spilled out to the sidewalk, so angry at having looked foolish that I was certain steam would shoot out of her ears. She clicked off in her matching peacock colored heels, and Henry, Chris and I enjoyed a long laugh.
Later, when I considered both Ricky Wakefield and Clara’s anger, the amusement of it disappeared. The sharks had been taunted. Would they strike? If there was a way to do Beach Read in, Clara would find it. All I had on my side was a window of time.
Ricky Wakefield bothered me, too. When I shared the conversation about Ricky’s threats against the town with Sam, he decided, “A low level idiot like Ricky Wakefield wouldn’t have that kind of volume unless it fell into his lap somehow.” Still, I wondered what if it had?