Beware the Mermaids Read online

  “Not so soon as to arise suspicion. How about two weeks?”

  Chuck looked at his drink and picked it up with a shaky hand.

  “I’ll do it for three grand. And I need it by next week,” Chuck said as he shivered in his seat.

  Roger lowered his chin and stared hard at the pathetic loser. “Is that the going rate for intimidation these days?” His voice was oily, dark, more of a snarl.

  Chuck froze but remained silent. He stared at his drink sitting on the bar. Then he said, “I saw you and the redhead. It’s on the marina security camera too.”

  This caught Roger off guard. His gaze went from conspiratorial to glowering. How dare this punk. However, he relented, knowing he would never pay Roverson the full amount. “Fifteen hundred for now, the rest when I see progress.” He held out his hand for a shake to seal the deal.

  Chuck wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his brow and then shook Hadley’s hand. But as Chuck tried to let go, Roger’s grip tightened.

  “Don’t let me down, Chuck,” Roger said in a smooth, even tone as he glared at him. “I’m not a man you want to cross.”

  Chuck nodded nervously. “I, uh, I won’t sir. The broad will come screaming back to you in no time.”

  “Do not refer to my wife as a broad. It’s cheap and tawdry. And she’s neither.”

  “Yessir, sir, I mean, sorry,” Chuck stammered, “Won’t happen again, sir.”

  Roger Hadley nodded, and a small smile curled his lip. He let go of Chuck’s hand and briskly walked out of the Blue Water Grill, only to discover a large splat of pelican poop on the hood of his just-washed Mercedes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE MERMAIDEN VOYAGE

  Not all animals were suited to boats. Otis, for instance, with his short little legs and squat salami-fed body, didn’t have the ability or confidence to jump from the dock platform onto the slightly swaying boat. So, with one muffled whimper, he was hauled aboard in the comfort of Ruthie’s arms. At which point Suzanne the Cat sauntered to the stern, steady on her feet and completely at ease after just three days on her new floating residence, to see where the whimper had come from. Suzanne took one look at Otis and, bored with her new visitor, went back up to the bow to scout for more sea life. Otis, who was strapped into a bright-green doggy life preserver with a starfish on it, sat rather unsteadily on the floor of the cockpit as Ruthie and Nancy unpacked groceries.

  “I brought rum. That’s what sailors drink, right?” Ruthie asked as she wielded a fifth of spiced rum in her left hand.

  “I’m making this up as I go, sister, but yes, generally rum and pirates go hand in hand,” Nancy said. “But white wine would be fine too.”

  “We’re mermaids. We can drink whatever we want. We make the rules,” Ruthie said and winked, as she arranged snacks on the pop-up tray table in the cockpit.

  Nancy went down into the salon and flipped on the power to the stereo. She searched for and found a Jimmy Buffett playlist on Spotify. The familiar sounds of the iconic A1A album carried over the water from the speakers mounted under the captain’s chair at the stern of the boat.

  Ruthie looked around at the blue-and-white-striped cushions, the upscale plastic wineglasses and throw pillows Nancy had bought. “Wow, you’ve really spiffed this boat up, Nance.”

  “I went kind of gonzo at the Redondo Marine Superstore and the Boat Galley,” Nancy said. “But I live here. On a boat. I live on a boat now. Oh my god.” Nancy stopped herself and looked around.

  “It’s great! Stop! Stop worrying. Look, Suzanne has already adjusted.”

  Suzanne was lying on the port side of the boat, licking her paws in the sunshine.

  “She scared off two giant sea lions today that were snoring on our dock. She’s fearless.”

  Ruthie and Nancy looked down at Otis, who seemed to imperceptibly nod that it was the truth.

  “Ahoy, mateys!” Lois called as she and Judy walked down the dock toward the boat. They were carrying several bags of goodies. “We brought boat-warming gifts!” Judy exclaimed.

  “And Dramamine!” Lois reached the dock platform step and handed over the bags to Ruthie, who was waiting to ferry them to the salon. Then she used her athletic legs to hop up onto the deck with ease.

  Judy, far less certain of her boat skills, put one foot on the platform, one on the side of the boat, and took a moment to gird herself for the thrust upward. Ruthie and Lois each gave her a hand and helped pull her onto the boat. Once on, she was the most unsteady.

  “Just have a seat, Jude. We’ll get everything set up,” Nancy said as she readied the boat. She unlocked cleats, prepped the mainsail, and organized the lines for the jib. She double-checked the navigation tech and unplugged the main power line from the dock.

  The Mermaids were getting ready for their maiden voyage out of King Harbor. The weather at the moment was cooperating, although there was a hint of fog way off on the horizon. But it was unlikely it would roll in from that distance. At the moment, the sun was warm, the water calm, and the breeze steady. All the makings of a perfect first sail.

  “I’m just not used to boats,” Judy said, as she nearly fell over getting to the far side of the cockpit. She wound up tucking herself into a corner of one of the teak benches. “I blame my weak ankles.”

  “I have some calcium supplements in my bag,” Lois cheerfully offered.

  Judy gave Ruthie a knowing look.

  Lois had, over the years, suffered from ailments both real and imagined, but mostly imagined. Hypochondria was Lois’s hobby. This mild disorder had manifested itself in her constant fear that she would be struck down with a serious illness like lupus, cancer, encephalitis, or MS, so she specialized in educating herself on every early symptom of every possible disease. Even though all medical tests showed that Lois was as healthy as an organic-eating horse with extremely good genetics, it didn’t matter. Lois had no real problems to worry about, so she manufactured something to worry about. An unintended benefit was that if anyone ever needed any possible combination of over-the-counter remedies, including a calcium tablet or Advil, Lois was up to the task.

  “I don’t need a calcium tablet, Lois, but thank you,” Judy said. Still unsteady on the boat and eternally cautious by nature, Judy inspected her seat on the boat and enterprisingly strapped herself to one of the canopy bars with her own scarf for extra security. “There, that’s better.”

  Ruthie was down in the salon, unpacking and stowing various boat-warming gifts. The girls had pitched in and bought Nancy some colorful wool blankets, bright orange and turquoise dishware, wet wipes, garbage bags, and scented candles and brought along Otis’s dog bed, which Suzanne adored. Otis watched forlornly as Ruthie put his former bed in the corner for Suzanne. He huffed.

  “Oh, I’ll get you a new one, Otis. Stop being so selfish.”

  Otis huffed once more and then buried his nose in his paws.

  “Okay, crew, we’re about to shove off!” Nancy said confidently.

  Ruthie, Lois, and Judy shouted in harmony, “Aye, aye, Captain!”

  Lois was by the mast with her muscular arms ready to raise the last few feet of the mainsail. Ruthie stood ready to unfurl the jib. And Judy was safely tucked in the corner of the cockpit, tied to the boat with her own scarf, cheering the rest of them on. Nancy was at the helm, easing their way out of the slip and into the channel.

  They motored past the King Harbor Yacht Club, it’s floor-to-ceiling windows flashing against the afternoon sun. Nancy glanced over and wondered if anyone inside the club was aware that the Gypsea, with its all-female owners, was headed out on a maiden voyage that was about to bring their little marina into the twenty-first century. She felt a surge of personal pride.

  Just before leaving the channel, Nancy killed the engine, instructed Lois to pull up the mainsail, and gave Ruthie orders to unfurl the jib. Nothing happened at first. As they were still shielded from the break wall, the wind didn’t reach them. Ruthie and Lois looked at each other, wondering if they h
ad done anything wrong. But Nancy stayed steady and watched the wind vane rock lazily at the top of the mast. Three seconds and a hundred yards later, a stiff, fresh breeze filled the sails all at once. The boat heeled to port, and Judy let out a nervous hoot at the sudden pitch of the Gypsea. Otis unsteadily slid across the bench to be next to Judy. Suzanne took her leave and headed below to curl up into Otis’s dog bed until this was over. Nancy was the only one doing work, so she began to give orders.

  “Lois, lock off the mainsail,” she said as she pointed to the cleat. She turned to Ruthie. “Use that winch handle to tighten the line on your jib.”

  “I don’t know what a jib is, but I shall comply!” Ruthie began cranking the handle to tighten the sail.

  “A little tighter.” Nancy observed the sail. “Good.”

  Once all the sails were properly in place, Nancy set a course heading southwest to the tip of the Palos Verdes peninsula. Lois looked excitedly at the coast and then back at Nancy.

  “We’re sailing! We’re sailing!” Lois said, nearly singing the words.

  Nancy laughed. “Indeed we are. Ruthie, one more half turn, please.”

  “Aye, aye,” Ruthie replied. “I might have been born to speak pirate.” In an attempt to take the winch handle off, Ruthie wrenched it the wrong way and it popped out, skittered along the railing, and plopped into the sea. It disappeared without ceremony.

  “Oh no.” Ruthie looked over the side of the boat.

  Nancy observed the mishap with only mild alarm and didn’t let it faze her. “It’s not the end of the world. There’s another winch handle down below.”

  Lois hopped over to the port side of the boat, looked over the side, and said, “Hey, Nance, are the bumpers supposed to be dangling like that?”

  Nancy realized they hadn’t brought the fenders up. Rookie move. They would be ruthlessly mocked at the yacht club. “Lois, do you feel confident you can bring them up with those amazing biceps of yours?”

  “On it.” Lois moved forward toward the fender at the bow, but on the way she stubbed her toe on a jib sheet block and yelped. “Ouch! Shit!” She bent down to grab her own toe and then instantly lost her balance. Nancy felt a spike of fear that Lois might roll off the side and overboard. She yelled at Judy, “Judy, take the wheel.”

  Judy, having tied herself to the boat for safety, was now wasting precious seconds fumbling with her scarf. Nancy let go of the wheel, which caused Gypsea to veer severely to the port side, which in turn caused Ruthie and Judy to roll like tumbleweeds to the other. Nancy helped Lois back onto her feet. “You okay?”

  “Beyond a suspected broken toe, I’m fine. Just a bruise the size of an eggplant.”

  “I’m sure Chris will relish in icing it, since it’s on your ass,” Ruthie said.

  “He does have a healer’s instincts.” Lois winked.

  Nancy moved back to the helm and took the wheel from Judy, who looked absolutely terrified to be in control. “Everyone okay?”

  Lois and Ruthie both nodded and seemed relatively calm. Otis looked petrified.

  “Judy, I know you’re still getting your sea legs, but no more lashing yourself to the canopy bars, okay? It’s dangerous.”

  “So is going overboard,” Judy replied.

  “Right, but tying yourself to a vessel that is going down is also unsafe,” Nancy said.

  Judy didn’t look convinced but relented and undid her scarf. She instead proceeded to wedge herself into the corner of the cockpit as tightly as possible.

  Down one winch handle, up one broken toe, but all things considered, she thought they weren’t doing too bad. Nancy looked to starboard and realized that the fog that had promised to stay way off the coast was now coming in at a traitorous pace.

  “Oh no,” Nancy said as she looked out at the approaching fog bank.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Ruthie said warily.

  “Fog is coming in. Ruthie, we are going to need to tack fast.”

  “Is fog bad?” Judy asked. “I usually like fog. It makes things quiet.”

  “Not when we have to navigate through it,” Nancy said. “We can’t see other boats and they can’t see us. No need to panic, though. We’ll tack and head back and then motor in safely.”

  “Oh, good, a motor,” Judy said. “I like motors. Very dependable.”

  “Okay, so when I say tack, I mean we are going to change direction. Three moves in this maneuver, and they all go in a specific, swift order.”

  “Order, got it. I like order,” Lois said nervously. She was now in the cockpit right next to Ruthie.

  “Ruthie, go get the winch handle from inside the chart table below.”

  “Copy that.” Ruthie hurried down to the salon. She came back with the winch handle and set it next to Lois in the cockpit.

  “Okay, great. Give the winch handle to Judy. Don’t lose the winch handle, Judy; it’s our last one.”

  Judy reluctantly took it and protected it as if it were the Holy Grail.

  Nancy continued, “Listen to me first; then we’ll do it together, okay?”

  The girls all nodded, worried expressions on their faces. The fog was almost upon them, and the safety of the harbor was in the other direction. They had to get the tack completed so they could turn on the motor and get the hell back to the safety of the channel.

  Nancy calmly but firmly explained. “Step one. Ruthie, you’re going to loosen your line controlling the jib, that sail right there.” Nancy pointed at the sail and the line. “Hold it until I turn the boat, so the sail doesn’t flutter.”

  “Loosen jib. Got it,” Ruthie repeated.

  “Step two. I will turn the wheel so that the boat comes about; that means I take a sharp right. Judy, I want you to repeat that so you know when to move to the other side.”

  “Come about and move,” Judy repeated.

  “Step three. Lois, you pull your line, which also controls the jib sheet.” Nancy pointed again so Lois understood.

  “Pull jib sheet. On it.”

  “Loosen jib, come about, pull sheet. That’s the sequence; got it?”

  Ruthie, Judy, and Lois repeated, “Loosen jib, come about, pull sheet!”

  Judy pushed her glasses back on her nose. Otis sat next to Judy. His eyes showed alarm and his tail did not wag.

  “Okay, on my count. Three, two, one … Loosen!”

  Ruthie began to let the jib sheet out so that it fluttered in the wind.

  “I’m coming about,” Nancy said, and motioned for Judy to move to the other side of the boat.

  The Gypsea began turning.

  “Lois, pull your jib sheet as fast as you can.”

  As Ruthie let out her sheet, Lois pulled hers in. The jib moved effortlessly from one side to another—until it didn’t. Lois pulled, but the sail was only half in. Lois yanked again. Nothing.

  “Must be caught on something.” Nancy followed Ruthie’s line until she saw that it was snagged on a cleat by the bow. The sheet was fluttering in the wind. “I see it. Judy, can you take the helm?”

  “Isn’t there someone more qualified?”

  “Gotta get your feet wet somehow. Come on, girl.”

  Judy let go of her death grip on the canopy bar and moved to the wheel, leaving Otis to fend for himself in his starfish doggy life vest. Nancy hopped up on the deck and went all the way to the bow to untangle the line from the cleat.

  “Okay, Lois, pull!”

  Lois yanked. The line came clean but then fell against Nancy’s legs, and she went down hard. All three of the girls stood up to see if she was okay.

  “Keep pulling until that jib is tight! I’m fine!” Nancy yelled from somewhere. Then she came limping back to the cockpit to relieve Judy of her duty at the helm.

  “Judy, winch handle, please,” Lois asked.

  Judy handed it to her. Lois put it into the slot and then pulled the jib in until Nancy gave her a nod.

  “All right. A few hiccups, but for a first-time effort under some duress, you did
good. I’d give that a solid C-plus.”

  Ruthie and Lois gave each other a high five. Judy stayed where she was and gave an air high five.

  “We’ll just start the iron horse and head home steadily and surely.”

  “Iron horse?” Lois asked.

  “Sailor’s term for the motor,” Nancy answered.

  Nancy turned the engine on, and it purred as they slowly cut through the water. The fog was upon them now, starting as a veil of mist and then growing thicker by the minute. The temperature dropped, and they all reached for their jackets and sweaters. Nancy realized she needed to train her new sailors. If something had gone seriously wrong, they wouldn’t have known what to do. It was irresponsible.

  Nancy heard a small sputtering sound coming from the engine.

  It spit and hissed for a few seconds. Nancy smelled something burning and saw a large puff of black smoke come up from the salon just as the engine went dead. She jiggered the key and tried it again, but the motor only kicked out a high squeal, belched up three coughs of smoke, and went completely dead. At that moment, a deep fog overtook them. Nancy broke into a sweat and felt momentarily paralyzed.

  “The engine just died.”

  “But didn’t we just buy this boat, engine included?” Judy protested weakly.

  Nancy wrestled with panic that threatened to overthrow her thinking. What was she doing out here? She loved sailing and was good at it. But a good sailor didn’t always make a good captain. She had always left the actual leadership to Roger. Her role was as the smarter and occasionally mutinous first mate who preferred to question the calls of the captain, not make them. So much could go wrong. She gripped the wheel and steadied herself against her rising anxiety.

  “We’re going to have to come in under sail,” she said as she clenched her jaw tight. “Okay, everyone listen closely to every word I say, as we’ll have to work quickly.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE BIG BURP

  It took Roger roughly thirty seconds to locate the disheveled shape of Chuck Roverson under a grungy baseball cap within the King Harbor Yacht Club. He was, no surprise, sitting at the bar. A thin sheen of sweat hung on Chuck, as if he were minutes away from suffering a bad stomach flu. Roger jangled the change in his pocket and looked around, assessing who else was in the club, before he approached Chuck.