Page 44 of Smuggler's Cove
Madison groaned. “Taxes. We are going to have to pay inheritance tax. Ugh!” She kicked the bag of ruined clothes with her borrowed hot-pink Crocs.
Olivia patted Madison’s hand. “It’s going to be alright. You can sell it, pay the taxes, and come away with a little money.”
“Yeah. Five dollars, I’m sure.” Madison felt as if she had been flung off a Ferris wheel. “How could something that sounded so good be so terrible?”
“It is calledlife, and you know well how life throws curveballs.”
“I do indeed.” Madison looked down at the flannel shirt and rubbed the fabric between her fingers. “Pretty soft, actually.”
“It was very nice of that woman to loan you some clothes.”
“I know. And I feel like such a jerk. I was so ungracious and rude.”
“You were mortified. And in a bit of shock.”
“I will buy her some new shirts and a couple of pairs of cargo pants and send it with a humbling note.”
“Now there’s the Madison we know and love.”
Twenty minutes after they were out of the tunnel, the car brought them to Madison’s loft, where she greeted her cats, Mario and Luigi. They were much more interested in the soiled clothing in the plastic bags than they were in saying hello to their mommy. She grabbed the bag with her broken shoes, walked out her door, down the hall, pulled open a stainless hatch, dropped them in, and listened as they tumbled down the metal chute. She metaphorically was throwing the marina out, too. She would tell Sidney to find a realtor to put it on the market, and that would be that.
About an hour later, Lincoln arrived. Just as he was walking into the apartment, Madison’s phone rang. As she picked it up, she pointed to Lincoln’s shoes, reminding him to take them off. Madison developed the habit of leaving her shoes at the front door when she moved back to New York—too much yuck on the streets—and she expected guests to do the same. She knew it was annoying, but she didn’t have many visitors anyway.
She answered her phone. “Hello. This is Madison.”
A deep voice spoke. “Madison Wainwright?”
“Yes. Who is this, please?”
“This is Detective Burton. Smuggler’s Cove police department.”
“Yes, Detective. How can I help you?” She looked at Olivia and Lincoln and shrugged.
“I understand you are the new owners of Kirby Taylor’s Marina.”
She put her hand over the receiver and whispered, “Word travels fast.” Then she continued. “Yes, my brother Lincoln and I inherited it from our Uncle Kirby. What can I do for you?”
“I was told you and your brother were down here a few hours ago.”
“That is correct.” She was beginning to feel as if she were being interrogated. “May I ask what this is about?” She was being very polite. When it was time to sell the property, she wanted all the support necessary, including from the local police. She knew how persnickety small-town folks can be when it comes to their community. And rightly so. But all she wanted was to dump the dump and walk away.
“There has been an unfortunate incident.”
“Incident?” She sat up straight. Lincoln leaned in. “I am going to put you on speakerphone, if that’s alright. My brother is with me.”
“Yes, of course,” he replied.
Madison hit the button, and everyone was able to hear everyone else’s voice. “Please continue.”
“Sometime around six, a body was spotted floating under the dock. We do not have any other details, but we will need both of you to come down to the station tomorrow for a statement.”
“Sorry? Did you say a body?” Madison wasn’t sure what she was hearing. “A dead body?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Detective, I can assure you this is the first we have heard of this incident. Why do you need a statement from us?” She was baffled. They had nothing to do with whatever this situation was. Simply because a body was found nearby, surely there was no reason for them to be brought into it.
“Because you are the owners of the dock he was found tangled under.”
