Jack Beale 00 - Dangerous Shoals

talking to him.
    “Mwrowh,” her voice broke the silence.
    “Shhh.” Jack shushed Cat and left the bedside. Once outside the bedroom, he quietly pulled the door shut while Cat dashed ahead and then returned to dance around his feet. She had a way of insisting in the nicest way that she wanted to go out. Before giving in to her, Jack started his cup of coffee in the microwave then visited the head. The beep, beep of the microwave signaled that the coffee was done, and Cat raced for the stairs.
    “Okay, okay. I’m coming,” Jack muttered, as he followed her down the stairs. Cat shot down ahead of him and began circling in front of the door, anticipating freedom. Behind her, Jack descended with more care so he wouldn’t spill his coffee. As soon as he opened the door, she raced out into the yard, flopped down, and began rolling around on the ground in a rapture of pure joy. Jack watched and smiled.
    It was warmer outside than in. The long dark winter had been made even longer by a late spring, but today all that changed. The world seemed to have finally caught up with the calendar. Color was everywhere. New leaves were popping out on the trees and bushes. Crocuses and daffodils were beginning to force their way up from under the remains of last year’s gardens. The air seemed fresher and cleaner than it had in a long time. The sun on his face reminded him of the time he and Max had spent in Belize. It seemed a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a few months. As he stood there feeling the warmth on his face, he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, enjoying the smells of this perfect spring morning. The bouquet of new grass, dirt, budding flowers all brought together by the warm spring air was intoxicating. The moment was broken by a familiar voice calling out, “Jack.”
    He looked around and saw Courtney, his sometime boss, current landlord, and longtime friend walking toward him. Courtney owned Ben’s, and his apartment was upstairs in an old barn behind her cottage, and directly above his workshop.
    “Mornin’ Court.”
    “Hey, Jack.”
    “What are you doing up so early?” To Courtney, 8:00 A.M. was practically dawn, and he couldn’t resist the gentle tease.
    “Very funny. Can’t a girl get up early once in a while?”
    “Of course you can. What’s up?”
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “Sure.”
    “How come people don’t close the dumpster back up after putting stuff in it? Last night, I got back late. Ben’s was already closed, but as I drove past, I saw that the dumpster cover was open.”
    “It was open? I took the last trash out for Max, and I know it was closed.”
    She looked at him, “Oh … Well, it wasn’t. Could the wind have blown it open?”
    “I doubt that.”
    “No matter, it was open. I don’t know, maybe it was that bitch who lives up the road. She likes to use my dumpsters for her trash.”
    “Possibly.”
    “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to ask you. I stopped and closed the cover, and then, as I was getting in my car, I saw a car parked across the street in the far corner of the lot.”
    “So? People leave cars there all the time.”
    “I know, and I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it except the interior light came on as a guy started to get into the car. When he saw me looking his way, he quickly shut the door like he didn’t want to be seen.”
    “So. It was cold and windy. I’m sure there are a million reasons for that.”
    “But it still creeped me out.”
    “Court. Had you been drinking?”
    “No,” she protested. Then she paused and said, “I was out, but I wasn’t drunk if that’s what you’re asking.”
    “Not at all. It’s just that sometimes your imagination is a little overactive.”
    “Jerk.”
    “I’m just saying.”
    “Did you notice anyone there when you went home after closing?”
    Jack studied her carefully, not quite understanding what her point was. “No, I didn’t. Court. It was dark out. You had been out, and it was late. A car was in the back lot. So what? I really think it was nothing. If it happens again, call the cops.”
    “But I’m sure I’ve seen that car before.”
    “What kind of car was it?”
    “I don’t know. Small, foreign, a sedan, dark color.”
    “Court, you’ve just described probably any one of a thousand cars in the seacoast.”
    She wouldn’t stop. “Recently I was downtown and I’m sure I saw it then.”
    “Court …”
    She cut him off, “Maybe … No. Jack, listen.