Current Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mysteries) by Lane Stone Page A

the same car had been behind me mile after slow mall-traffic mile. I told Abby, “He’s followingus.” It was a rented white Ford Taurus. The driver was male, but with the glare from the sun that’s all I could tell.
    I found a parking space near the main entrance. I pulled the canvas top minus the window flaps onto the Jeep and locked Abby in. Since she was a Standard Schnauzer and not a mini, I felt okay leaving her by herself. Still, I didn’t dally around in the mall.
    When I came out with my new purchase, the white car was still there. Amateurs! What can I say? Do people no longer take pride in their work?
    I walked to the Jeep and was careful to unlock the driver’s side door only, just like they say in articles on self-defense for women. I pulled the top off and stowed it to give me an excuse to walk around for a better view of the license plate. I still couldn’t make it out, nor did I have a better view of the driver, so I climbed in and drove off.   The car followed me out of the parking lot.
    “Shit,” I said to Abby, “We really are being followed.” I speed dialed Victoria and told her what was happening.
    “Don’t go home. Pick me up at the Cracker Barrel.”
      I drove slowly to give her time to get there and also because you have no choice on Highway 20 in front of the mall. I drove east to the entrance to I-85 and exited at Lawrenceville- Suwanee Road. When I got close my nerves got the upper hand, and I turned into the Cracker Barrel parking lot on two wheels. Victoria, Tara, Mr. Benz and Stephie were waiting out front. They ran toward me, and I unlocked the doors to let them in. We didn’t have crates for the dogs, and they seemed to understand how important it was for them to behave. Abby was still in the front seat and feeling superior. Victoria and Tara held their dogs in the back seat.   
    “I have a plan.” I picked up my cell phone and hit the speed dial for the marina. “This is Leigh Reed. Could you have my boat out in about ten minutes? Thank you.”
    We drove north on Lawrenceville- Suwanee Road and cut over to Buford Highway. The Taurus stayed right with us.
    I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Tara and Victoria with their arms wrapped around their dogs and holding their rather big and getting bigger hair down. “You two have been to church, haven’t you?”
    “Yes. This is how the Minister of Music likes it.”
    Victoria said, “I think your hair should always be as big as your head.”
    “ Whaaat ?” Tara had to raise her voice to be heard.
    “That sounds like it should mean something, but what?” I yelled back to them.
    “Oh, never mind. I just thought I would try a new look. Anyway, just forget it. We’re here.”
    My thirty-foot sloop, Fourth Star, was in the first slip. I parked, and we jumped out and ran, Abby first and the other two dogs at our heels. She’s such a little leader. We threw our handbags aboard, and then we tossed the dogs, who thought it was a fun new game. The sailboat had been backed in and, according to my hair and the masthead fly, was facing into the wind. I made that all-important, long step onto the boat and started the engine, giving my gauges and indicator lights a quick look-see. In the meantime Victoria and Tara had gotten to their knees and climbed aboard, then held their dogs close. I appreciated the caution they showed. Better safe than sorry, right? I cast off the stern line, then the spring lines, and last the bow line. Force of habit made me look at the rubber fenders, but I would pull them in later.  
    We motored away from the dock, looking back to see the man was out of his car and walking toward the water. He wore baggy jeans and a plaid flannel shirt stretched over his beer gut. He looked to be about sixty, or maybe he was forty-five and had been rode hard and put up wet.   Then he started laughing, but we didn’t get the joke.
    It was a beautiful day still, just the right amount of sun, just the right amount of