Dude said, “Me share tidbit not to be heard by copsters.” He looked around like he was afraid a copster was hiding behind the steps leading to the second deck. No one was within three hundred yards.
“Rocky be bunkin’ at mi casa.”
“After he tied me up and said he was leaving town?”
Dude shrugged. “Be rude to do to Chrisster. Yeah, he no go bye-bye.”
“You were harboring a criminal?” Barb said.
“No. Be bunkin’ a bud.”
“Why?” I asked, figuring an extended legal discussion between an attorney and Dude would be like talking thermodynamics with a hermit crab.
Dude looked at Barb and turned to me. “Rockster afearin’ harm be visitin’ fractional sis. Said not be letting that happen.”
Dude bowed his head, leaned against the railing, and a tear rolled down his cheek.
“Rockster said gandering-out for sis be one good thing he ever do.” He looked back at the beach. “Customers no be missin’ Rockster, but should.”
Barb put her arm around Dude and I inched farther away from the two so they could have their moment. So many emotions were racing through my head I nearly lost my balance. Karen was leaving. Charles may never move back. And, I was grieving over a man who had been nothing but rude to me most every time we had contact, not to mention strapping me to a chair.
Barb was saying something about Rocky’s funeral and wanting to pay for it, so I stepped back to the two and asked if anything had been discussed about the funeral. Dude said Rocky didn’t have any family and he was going to take care of everything and he figured it’d be in two days. Of course, he didn’t use those words.
My phone interrupted Barb and Dude arguing over who would pay for the funeral. Barb seemed to think she had won and would be footing the bill, yet I knew once Dude set his mind to something, his sis—fractional or otherwise—wouldn’t stand a chance.
“So when’s the funeral? Heather and I don’t want to miss it.”
I started to remind my impatient friend that poor Rocky had only met his demise hours earlier, but instead told him what Dude had said.
“Good. Bye,” he said.
“Charles,” I said, hopefully in time to keep from talking to dead air.
“What? Heather’s ready for breakfast.”
I crossed my fingers. “Back for good?”
“Don’t know,” he said and hung up.
It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it left room for hope.
Dude and I were on each side of Barb as we walked down the steps and off the pier. She put her arms around our waists, squeezed, and turned to me.
“Think we can do dinner again without almost getting killed?”
“Why not.”
Also by Bill Noel
Folly
The Pier
Washout
The Edge
The Marsh
Ghosts
Missing
Final Cut
Boneyard Beach
Silent Night
About the Author
Bill Noel is the author of the popular Folly Beach Mystery series that includes the titles Folly, The Pier, Washout, The Edge, The Marsh, Ghosts, Missing, Final Cut, First Light, and Boneyard Beach. He is a fine arts photographer and retired university administrator. Bill lives in Louisville, Kentucky, with his wife, Susan.
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www.billnoel.com
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Copyright © 2016 by Bill Noel
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN-13: 978-1-942212-52-2
Cover design and photo by Bill Noel
Author photo by Susan Noel
* * *
Hydra Publications
Goshen, KY 40026
* * *
www.hydrapublications.com
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