15. Tripp
Chapter 15
Tripp
T he Foxport Harbor is protected by a natural, hooked peninsula that juts out into the sea before curling back around and in. It creates a large enough bay to be the hub for watercraft in town.
Fishermen come straight into the harbor to sell their haul and dock at one place. At the base of the peninsula sits Rusty’s, an unassuming seafood restaurant that serves the freshest fish in town because of this set up. Unlike the Lobster Shack, it is a local’s only dive. And our best kept secret.
I nod hello to Rusty himself as I pass by. Out on his patio overseeing the arrival of his second shift crew, he raises a chipped coffee mug to me in return. Continuing along the walkway, I reach the harbor gate. Confirming my suspicion, I withdraw the perpetrator’s keys from my pocket and try the lock on the man gate. It’s a match, and I step into the restricted area.
Just inside the fence is a hut that houses the harbor office. I step through into the red building and am greeted by the attendant.
“Morning, Sheriff. What can I do for you?” Barney mumbles around the toothpick between his teeth.
The office is dimly lit, with wooden shiplap walls and a gallery of fishing photos lined up behind the service counter. It only takes me two steps to cross the room and reach him at the desk.
“Hey Barney, I’m just looking to see if any missing keys have been reported to you. Checking around a few places in town, trying to get ahead of things.”
“Good idea, Sheriff. A lot of damage could be done at a place like this. But no sir. Last key I issued was a few months ago,” he says, pulling a file out from the cabinet behind the desk. Withdrawing a transfer sheet from it, Barney holds the form up in confirmation. “It was for a new key, not a replacement.”
“Alright, could you give me a call if anyone comes looking for a replacement key?”
“Sure will,” he agrees.
I head back outside, turning for the docks instead of the parking lot. From here, I can see the saltwater fishing boat I inherited from Pops. I made this walk a thousand times growing up, helping him carry the gear as the sun rose above us.
We’d spend all day out on the water while he regaled me with war stories from his days in the service and told me all about my grandmother. She’d passed before I’d come to live with him, but I still felt like I knew her from those stories.
Pops would describe her as a strong woman with a soft heart, he always assured me it was the best combination a man could find in a soulmate. That’s what he would call her, his soulmate. He’d told me that if I found a woman that was tender yet strong-willed enough to challenge me, I should hold on for dear life.
For the gruff fisherman type, Pops had a sentimental heart. Losing my grandmother had destroyed it. And then my father’s choices had stomped on it for good measure. Pops would tell me that getting to raise me had brought him back to life.
It’s always a baffling feeling being out here. Calming and painful at the same time. That’s the thing about losing someone, even the sweetest memories develop a sharp edge.
I’m rounding the corner to come back to the harbor office when I hear a polite, airy ‘thank you’ from within. I recognize the voice immediately.
Stepping into the doorway, I lean against the frame and smile at the sight before me. “Funny seeing you here, Ms. Taylor,” I say, voice thick with amusement.
Ivy whirls around, her eyes widening as they fall on me. “Sheriff,” she murmurs.
Barney looks between us in confusion before offering, “She was asking about keys, sir.”
“Thanks, Barn. I’ll take it from here.” I never take my attention off Ivy, motioning for her to step outside with me.
We move a few paces away from the office, and when I feel confident that we have some privacy, I take her in my arms and hold her against my chest. “What brings you to the harbor?”
“I was just curious about something…”
“How did you get in here?”
“Stevie’s dad has a dock.”
I smile up at the sky in frustration. She is making it impossible to keep her a safe distance from things.
“Ah, then it was Stevie that recognized the key, I’m guessing. But I thought we agreed you were done involving yourself.”
“I’m following a hunch in a public area,” she counters, motioning around us.
“Sherlock. You had to borrow—actually you probably stole a key from Stevie’s dad to get in here. That is the opposite of public.” I slide my hands up to her jaw and sigh.
“Public as in, out in the open. And don’t you want to know what I learned from Barney?” She’s looking up at me with hopeful, sparkling eyes. I don’t stand a chance.
“Let’s grab a bite at Rusty’s. Then we can walk over to the town meeting. I’m assuming you’re going to that?”
She smiles at me in response. “Perfect.”
“Alright,” I start, plucking a fried jumbo shrimp from the white and red checkered tray between us. “What did you learn from Barney?”
She sits forward, resting her forearms on the thickly epoxied wooden table and curling her hands into the sleeves of her oversized sweater. Grinning triumphantly, she says, “I’m sure you learned that no keys have been reported missing. But do you know how many keys were issued to each family?”
“I didn’t ask that…”
She reaches into her bag beside her and withdraws a printed list. “I gave him my mom’s guest list and he pulled any name that had a dock and then how many keys they each had. For example, you have one, but Fitzy has two.”
“This is good. Any chance it’s the only copy and you’re willing to give it to me and drop this?”
“Why would I drop it if I’m helping?”
The server appears, depositing two cod sandwiches before us. I take a bite, waiting for him to be out of ear shot before replying.
“Let’s say the perp has more than one key. What if he was there when you were poking around?”
“I would have stopped asking questions if anyone else came into the office.”
“And if I wasn’t here today. Would you have told me about this outing?”
“Of course, I haven’t kept any of it from you.”
“You didn’t tell me that one of the keys was for the harbor,” I counter.
“I found out after I gave you the keys. And once I did, I already knew you had one, so you’d know what it is. Besides, I didn’t think this would count as something worth worrying about,” she replies assuredly.
Nudging her food basket closer to her, I let out a sigh. “Just please, tell me that you won’t try to talk to anyone on this list.”
“I won’t try to talk to anyone on this list,” she vows.
“Alright, then eat up before this meeting.” I turn back to my own sandwich, pausing with it halfway to my mouth. “And next time I catch you trespassing, I’m taking you in rather than taking you to lunch.”
She bats her eyes at me innocently. “You would arrest me?”
“I’d be able to keep a better eye on you that way,” I mutter.
“I’ll be a good girl, Sheriff. I promise,” she says, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
A cough escapes me, caught off guard by her comment. Between her running her hand up my thigh yesterday and these not so innocent little comments, tension has begun to coil so tight within me, I might just snap.