Page 18 of Hook, Line and Mystery

“I’ll give you a few minutes to order,” said the waitress.

“What’s good?” asked Abby.

“My two favorites are the smoked gouda and lobster macaroni and cheese, or the frizzled onion-covered swordfish with the citrus glaze,” offered Kit.

“Easy. I’ll take the swordfish.”

“Then I’ll take the mac and cheese. Can I suggest the seafood chowder? It’s amazing.”

“Seafood chowder it is,” said Abby.

“Coming right up.”

Abby looked out into the harbor. “Why would anyone leave here?”

“The old owners, the Gateses, had a daughter who got into some legal trouble. They decided to get away and start a new life in Morocco.”

“No extradition treaty. What kind of legal trouble would cause a whole family to pick up and leave?”

“Let’s just say most everybody in town worked together to make it happen.”

“Ah, one of those you’d tell me, but you’d have to kill me kinds of things,” Abby teased.

“Something like that. Although I’d never harm you—kidnap you and hold you prisoner forever, but never hurt you.”

“Kinky. I’m not sure that’s much of a threat.”

Kit laughed and took a long swig of his beer. Dinner arrived and she and Kit basically shared the two entrées, enjoying both.

“I’ve never had swordfish crusted in onions like that. It was amazing and that glaze is to die for. I’ve had lobster mac and cheese, but nothing like that.”

“What do you say we get dessert to go and take a walk along the docks? Most of the boats are in, but we still might catch some of the longliners heading out…”

“Longliners?”

Kit nodded. “They fish mostly for swordfish overnight. They set long lines in the ocean where they think the swords will be trying to feed and the lines have a lot of baited hooks. They get the lines in and then go back and see what they have. There’s no set time and each fisherman will have his own way. If you want, I’ve got a couple of down parkas behind the seat in my truck.”

“That sounds great.”

“Probably be best to take something we can eat with our hands. They make an amazing blondie, a great brownie, and a delicious apple and cranberry tartlet. Or we could get all three and just eat what we want.”

“I like the way you think,” laughed Abby.

They paid the bill and left with their desserts in a bag. Kit drove them down closer to the marina where they parked, and walked down to the docks where they held hands and greeted people as they passed.

“I take it walking the docks at night is not all that uncommon in Badger’s Drift,” said Abby.

“You would be correct. Other favorite walks are up along the cliffs and down on the beach.”

“Everything really is tied to the sea here, isn’t it?”

Kit nodded. “It’s the very foundation of Badger’s Drift. It was founded by fishermen and whalers. It’s always been a busy harbor.”

“Your dad was a fisherman? Lobster?”

“My dad always called himself a fisherman. My mom went out on the boat with him. They fished all year round like most of these boats,” he said, indicating the marina. “Lobster, scallops, salmon, swords—whatever was running and would pay the bills. They got caught in a squall and the boat capsized. Everybody on board was lost.”

“Kit, I’m so sorry.”

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