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

wind. We were well away from the marina, but I kept motoring longer than I ordinarily would. I’m a sailor, not a motor- er , but I had to put our safety above my pride.  
    “Will one of you hold the tiller?” Tara put Stephie down and scooted in.
    “Just pick a spot straight ahead and keep us pointed that way.”
    “How about that mountain?”
    “Perfect.”
    I unlocked and slid the main hatch open. “Abby, come.” She jumped into my arms, and I lowered her down, then I did the same for Stephie and Mr. Benz, who had followed her. They’d have to stay below until I could tether them to lifelines. I got out my winch handles and headed back up top. The masthead fly told me the wind was coming from the north. I reached back to the tiller and turned the boat into the wind.
    As I did, Tara patted me on the shoulder, letting me know she had confidence in me. “What’s the name of that mountain, anyway?”
    That was when the spray of water erupted, and we heard what sounded like someone spitting. Once, twice, three times. We were being shot at from the dock.
    “Shit, shit, shit.”
      Call me a motor- er , call me a stinkpotter , call me anything but late for dinner, I left that damn engine on, and we got the hell out of there.   I felt something on my hand and looked down behind me. There were three hands on the tiller, and we were out of danger.  
    Victoria went below to use her cell phone to call 911.   The operator said she would send an officer out and for us to stay put. Stay put? In a sailboat? Ordinarily this would call for one of Victoria’s zingers, but she left it alone.
    Tara was squatting down but had kept her eyes on the dock. “He’s leaving. Going back to whatever rock he crawled out from under, I guess.”   Then she took her strappy sandals off and went to the foredeck.
    “Should I call them back and cancel? He could still be in the parking lot.”   We agreed that we would still like someone to come.
    Vic and I freed the dogs one at a time, and Tara tethered each to bow railing. “Is there a snack boat?” she asked as she worked.
    “A what?” I turned us into the wind and climbed on the cabin top where I raised the mainsail and tied off the halyard. The wind was light so I didn’t need much tension. Next I raised the jib, the sail at the front of the ship, pulling in and cleating the lines, called sheets, which I’d use to control it. I returned to the tiller and steered us away from the wind enough for a relaxing sail.
    Tara continued, “You know, at the golf course there’s a snack cart. On a lake is there a snack boat that will come around with refreshments? Like a cold beer.”
    “No, but there may be a few in the fridge. I’m not sure how cold they’ll be. And there might be chips and salsa somewhere down there.”
    Victoria found the tiny fridge and brought out three imported beers and the snacks. “None for me,” I said and she put one back.
    “Can I ask you something?” Tara shaded her eyes with a hand.
    “If you’re wondering who that guy is , I have no idea.”
    “Actually I was going to ask what kind of name ‘Shit-shit-shit’ is for a mountain, but yeah, who was that guy?”
    I motioned for Vic to take the tiller and went below to change from my riding clothes into a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt. When I popped back out of the cockpit I said, “I didn’t get a good look. When he was following us I saw that he had bushy gray hair. Did he look like any of the husbands we’ve followed recently?”
    Victoria stretched out on a seat cushion. “I could tell he was on the heavy side. He didn’t look familiar to me.”
    “He’s short.” Tara got up long enough to find her sunglasses and lay back down.
      All of a sudden I realized how safe I felt with them around and how good that was.   “Either of you ever been shot at before?”
    “Nope.”
    “Nope.”
    We cruised silently for a while, just looking up at the sky.
    “Leigh, can I ask you