“Hey, wait! Come back here!” I yelled, giving chase, which was not easy to do in my Little Bo Peep outfit. When we reached the ballroom I could see all the talent show contestants lined up in a row across from the buffet tables.

  “Hail Caesar Salad!” Roscoe Jr. said, giving the Roman salute to the man as he approached. I wasn't sure if it was intentional or if he couldn't stop in time, but the man crashed into Roscoe Jr. sending him careening toward the buffet tables. Roscoe fell heavily onto the end of the table, catapulting the entire menu of Pierre's restaurant onto the kids and their mothers. The resulting screaming, crying and cursing could probably be heard on the mainland.

  The collision had allowed me to almost catch up with the mystery man, but in an instant he was back on his feet and already widening the gap between us again. I looked around desperately for help, but everyone was too busy trying to restrain the horde of angry mothers who were beating on Roscoe Jr. to notice us. Suddenly, I saw Nick out of the corner of my eye; he had clearly seen me chasing the man and was fighting his way through the crowd toward us, but it was too late. The mystery man was heading for the front door at full speed and there was nothing blocking his way. Nick would never reach him in time unless I did something fast. That was when I remembered the ridiculous Little Bo Peep shepherdess crook I was carrying and decided to put it to good use. Reaching it out to its full length, I managed to catch the man around the ankle and sent him tripping and stumbling right into Nick's arms.

  “Avast and belay, matey!” Nick said, swinging the flailing fugitive around and pinning him on the ground.

  Two people in costumes which I supposed to be Kanga and Baby Roo from the Winnie the Pooh movies pushed their way through the crowd and stopped next to me.

  “Call the sheriff!” I said.

  “Way ahead of you,” Kanga replied, removing the big fuzzy kangaroo head to reveal Sheriff Landon.

  Baby Roo removed his mask too, and said, “It's true. She's got a badge. I've seen it, Teri.” It was Deputy Sheriff Buffington who had somehow managed to cram his stocky body into a Baby Roo costume.

  “She knows that, Buff,” Sheriff Landon said. “Now get some handcuffs on this guy!”

  Buff fumbled around in his kangaroo pouch and came out with a pair of handcuffs along with a tin of Altoids. “Anybody like a mint?” he asked. “That pasta sauce had a ton of garlic in it.”

  “Now what's going on here?” The sheriff asked me as Buff handcuffed the mystery man.

  “It's him!” I panted. “This is the guy who was following Bertie and me- or maybe it was just Bertie- but he was by my RV, so maybe it was me- and he was stealing coats in the coat room- and he was the one arguing with Herb and then Herb was murdered and- and-”

  “Murdered! Whoa, wait a minute!” the man exclaimed. “Look, Sheriff, this is all a big misunderstanding; I'm the victim here! I just got keelhauled by a pirate! You saw it yourself!”

  “You can explain it all down at the station,” Sheriff Landon said. “Teri, I'll need you to come along to make an official statement. I'll meet you there once I've rescued that idiot Roscoe Jr.”

  I turned around and saw all the mothers and the kids in their ruined costumes still yelling and attacking Roscoe, Jr. Mayor Croaker had joined in the melee and I must say she had a mean left hook. It was pretty safe to assume the children's talent show had been canceled. “I'll be happy to come to the station,” I said. “I don't have anything to do right now anyhow.”

  I couldn't help feeling proud of myself as Nick and I sat in the waiting room of the police station. I had managed to get out of judging the children's talent contest and as far as everyone was concerned, it was Roscoe Jr.'s fault. I was obviously on a lucky streak. I was mulling whether to buy a lottery ticket when I noticed a fragrance that reminded me of shampoo.

  “Do you smell something strange?” I asked Nick.

  “Not particularly. What does it smell like?”

  “It's flowery like shampoo. I thought maybe you washed your hair before you went to the ball.”

  “No, but if I did I wouldn't use shampoo that smells like flowers. Pirates and flowers don't really go together. But I think I know what you're smelling; this place used to be a beauty salon. Back then, the sheriff's office was on the second floor of the donut shop, which you would think would be a match made in heaven, but the sheriff wasn't a fan. The space was kind of cramped, and the cop/donut jokes the locals made got old pretty fast. So when she heard that the beauty parlor was moving out, she jumped at the chance to move the police station here.”

  “Where did the beauty parlor move to?”

  “The second floor of the donut shop.”

  “Of course, why didn't I think of that?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Is there any building on this island that didn't used to be something else?”

  Don't ask me,” Nick said. “I live in a lighthouse.”

  Just then the door opened and Sheriff Landon came into the room, still wearing her kangaroo costume minus the mask. She resembled a broken mechanical puppet from Chuck E. Cheese. “Sorry about the wait,” she said. “It took a while to get things calmed down at city hall. We haven't had a ruckus that big since the time your aunt judged the children's talent show.”

  “Gee, that's a shame,” I said, trying not to look too smug.

  “Come into the office. Let's see if we can find out who our mystery man is and what he's up to.”

  We entered a large room with full length mirrors lining the walls. The mystery man was standing in front of one of the mirrors and yelling his reflection. Buff was sitting at a table, fiddling with the zipper of his kangaroo costume.“You can't do this to me!” the man shouted. “I know my rights! I'm an American citizen! When my lawyer gets through with you, you'll be coughing up dough like a broken slot machine!”

  “Sit down,” Sheriff Landon said. “That's not a two-way mirror.”

  “Don't try to play games with me! I ain't some new guy on the block. Why else would this place be full of mirrors?”

  “It used to be a beauty salon,” I said.

  “A beauty salon? Why the hell would anyone make a police station out of a beauty salon? This whole island is a floating loony bin!”

  To be honest, he had kind of a point there, but I decided to keep that thought to myself.

  “Never mind,” said the sheriff. “Sit down at the table. I'm the one who's asking questions here. Let's start with your name.”

  “Norman Schlock,” the man said. “I'm a private investigator from Apalachicola.”

  “Private investigator?”

  “Yeah, I'm a legit P.I. I've got an office with a secretary and everything. I've been in the business for 20 years. Just call the sheriff over there and he'll vouch for me.”

  “Buff, why don't you go call the sheriff's office in Apalachicola and see what the sheriff has to say about Mr. Schlock,” Sheriff Landon said.

  “I'm on it,” Buff said as he stood up. “Just as soon as I figure out how to spell Apalachicola.”

  “Now why don't you tell me what a private investigator from out of town is doing nosing around this 'floating loony bin'.”

  “Okay, this is how it went,” Schlock said. “A few days ago I got a call from some guy up north whose wife ran out on him. The guy said she was going to see her brother on some podunk island in the gulf, no offense. He hired me to track her down and keep tabs on her; y'know, see where she was going while she was here, what she was doing and who she was doing it with.”

  “Herb Doylett hired you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that's the guy. A real piece of work. I don't blame the wife for splitting on that jerk.”

  “What were you doing sneaking around my RV the other day?”

  “Well, I found the brother's house easy enough, but nobody was there, so I asked around and found out that he likes to hang around this bed and breakfast down the road. That sounded like a good place for him to stash Doylett's wife, but when I got there I checked and the place was booked solid and she wasn't there. I was trying to look in the window of the RV to see if she was in there.”

  “That happened to be my RV,” I said.

  “So? How was I supposed to know. I didn't see your name on it.”

  “What I want to know is why were you arguing with Herb Doylett on the evening that he was murdered,” Sheriff Landon said.

  “Oh, that was nothing, really,” Schlock said. “I gave him a call and he agreed to meet me out in back of the B&B so we could settle my bill. I've been following his wife around for days and I haven't seen a penny yet. I'm a private investigator, not some rain forest aid worker! I've got bills to pay, y'know? Anyways, when I get there, he tells me he found his wife all by himself and he's not payin' me nothing! All by himself, my butt! So I told him what I thought of that, and he told me to go pound sand, and I guess you could say that things got a little heated between us, but that was all.”

  “But I heard you threatening him,” I said, “and you said that it wasn't over.”

  “Of course it wasn't over! I was going to call my lawyer and sue his butt back into the Stone Age! I've been in this biz a long time and I know how to handle clients that stiff me.”

  “Where did you go after you left the B&B that evening?” the sheriff asked.

  “I know what you're trying for here,” Schlock said, “but you're not pinning this Doylett guy's murder on me! I didn't have anything to do with killing anyone. When I left, Doylett was alive and well. He was feeling better than I was, anyway. I went back to my hotel room and called my secretary to get a flight back to Apalachicola, and to tell my lawyer to get the paperwork ready for a lawsuit. Then I went down to the hotel bar and had a couple of tequila shots. You can check with the bartender, plus there were plenty of other people who saw me. In fact, I was talking to this guy on the next stool about fly fishing. Did you know that fly fishing dates back to the days of the Roman Empire?”

  “Just a minute,” I said. “If you were so anxious to leave the island, what were you doing in the coatroom at city hall tonight? Maybe you were going through the Doyletts' coats looking for money now that Herb couldn't pay you?”

  “What are you saying? I wasn't looking to steal anyone's money and even if I was, it wouldn't really have been stealing since they owed me anyway! No, I was only looking for phone numbers so that I could give them a call about making good on the money that Herb Doylett owed me. I wanted to work something out with the family in a friendly way without my having to get legal about it. That's just the sort of sympathetic guy I am.”

  “I'm sure you are.”

  Buff came back into the room and whispered something to Sheriff Landon, who said, “All right, Mr. Schlock, your information checks out. You can go for now, but don't leave the island until I tell you that you can.”

  “Wait just a minute,” Schlock protested. “What about Miss Big Mouth here tripping me with that cane thing of hers. That's reckless endangerment if ever I saw it. I could have broken my neck and I may have internal injuries that could cause me to be unable to work ever again. My lawyer-”

  “Mr. Schlock,” Sheriff Landon interrupted, “it's been a long night and this costume is itchy, so don't push it. Buff will give you a ride back to the hotel and he'll swing by the bar and check your alibi. Have a nice night.”

  “Fine.” Schlock grumbled, following Buff out the door. “No justice around here, I see.”

  After they left I said, “Why didn't you arrest him? I mean, I really did see him in the coatroom going through the coats, and that excuse he made was pretty flimsy.”

  “Arrest him for what? For what it's worth, I agree that he was probably looking to steal money out of the Doyletts' coats, but we didn't find any cash or credit cards on him when we searched him, so I can't hold him. But don't worry, he's still a suspect in Herb Doylett's murder and we'll be keeping an eye on him.”

  “I guess you're right. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “I think you've done more than enough for one night. Can I give you a ride home?”

  “I'll take her home,” Nick said. “She may need a bodyguard with a murderer on the loose.”

  “It sounds like you're in good hands, Teri,” Sheriff Landon laughed. “I'm sorry about what happened to the children's talent show, though. I know you've been looking forward to it for some time.”

  “Yes, I was very disappointed, but-” I paused and looked both ways before whispering to the sheriff, “Don't tell anyone, but your nephew was going to win. I could tell right away that he was a natural talent and I've always been a big fan of the flugelhorn.”

  “Oh, that's wonderful, Teri! And of course I won't breathe a word about it. I know how jealous and petty some people on the island can be. Thanks for everything and have a good night.”

  Sheriff Landon waved as I climbed onto Nick's bike and we rode off into the night. Once we were out of sight, Nick asked, “Were you really going to give first prize to the sheriff's nephew?”

  “As far as she knows.”

  “Very clever, Ms. Bond. By the way, did you get anything to eat tonight before the epic showdown between good and evil?”

  “No, I was in survival mode most of the time.”

  “Well, I didn't have time to eat either, so why don't we go grab a bite before we go home? My treat.”

  “That would be great, but it's almost two A.M. I don't know if any restaurants stay open this late.”

  “Ah, but I know of a place that's open,” Nick replied. “You're going to love it.”

  I always worry when someone says “You're going to love it”, particularly when that someone is Nick. But it was late and I was hungry, so I was willing to throw caution to the wind. I clung onto Nick for dear life as we sped down the road with the motorbike leaning to a 45 degree angle as he dodged potholes. Through my half-closed eyes I noticed that we were heading out of town which made me wonder what kind of restaurant could be on a road that was lined with nothing but brush and palm trees. I found out the answer when Nick screeched to a stop at the side of the road in front of what appeared to be a food truck, although most food trucks usually have tires. This particular truck was sitting on cinder blocks and covered in peeling paint, rust, and small holes which may or may not have been bullet holes. A beat-up card table sat in a patch of dirt in front of the truck, flanked on either side by overturned buckets that apparently served as seats. A string of colored lights with half of the bulbs missing hung from a weathered sign on top the roof that read: “Octo-Tacos”. Once again it seemed that Nick and I had different definitions of certain words, such as “restaurant”.

  When we got off the bike I saw a heavy-set older man wearing a Mets cap and a shirt with the name “Al” on it leaning over the counter. As soon as he saw Nick, the man called, “Hey there, captain, long time no see! Whatcha been doin' with your time?”

  “Oh, this and that,” Nick said. “Just scrambling to keep the bill collectors off my back so I can keep living indoors.”

  “You're breakin' my heart! You ride up on your fancy bike with a hot chick on your arm and think you're scrambling! That's some dress ya got there, miss. Don't see one like that everyday.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I said. “It's not really a dress. We were at the Archie Gras ball and we had to wear costumes.”

  “Good to know,” Al said. “For a minute there I thought that I overdosed on my meds again. Now what can I get for you, little lady?”

  “Do you have a menu?”

  Al pointed up at the Octo-Taco sign and said, “There's your menu. Best damn octopus tacos on the island, covered in grilled pineapple, red cabbage, corn, chiles and avocado. Take 'em or leave 'em.”

  “We'll take two,” Nick said. “And two of whatever you've got to drink.”

  “Well, you're in luck there, buddy! I make my own craft beer called Salmon Delight. You're gonna love it.”

  “That sounds... great. But I'm driving tonight, so maybe you better set us up with something non-alcoholic.”

  “I got a couple of cans of soda left in the cooler,” Al said, disappearing beneath the counter. “But I still say you're missing out.”

  “Life is full of disappointments,” Nick said cheerfully as he took the took the tray with our tacos and soda on it. He sat it on the card table and we took our seats, or should I say buckets. Nick took a bite of his taco and said, “So what do you think? Is Schlock P.I. our killer?”

  “I don't know,” I replied, taking a tentative bite of my taco. It was surprisingly good for something made out of well, octopus. “It would be pretty extreme to murder someone just because they owed you money. Herb couldn't be the first client that stiffed him.”

  “On the other hand, Norman Schlock is a tad on the shady side.”

  “Yeah, but there's a difference between stealing from people's coats and murder.”

  “I guess. But that brings us back to the Doyletts doesn't it?”

  “Another dead end. I still wonder why whichever one of them killed Herb did it.”

  “Didn't they all have pretty strong motives to want him dead?”

  “Yes, but why do it here? From what I've heard, the Doyletts have been fighting with each other over the same issues for decades. They could have murdered him anywhere along the line. Why wait until they're on Admiral Archibald Falls Island to do it? What changed?”

  “That's a good question,” Nick said. “I wish I had a good answer.”

  “If you ask me, it's the P.I,” Al chimed in. “That guy sounds sketchy as hell.”

  “Uh, thanks Al, we'll look into that.” Nick replied. Looking at his watch, he said to me, “Gee it's late, I better get you home. See you around, Al.”

  “Anytime! You know where to find me.”

  When we got back to my RV, I had barely gotten off the bike when Nick swept me into his arms and gave me a sensational kiss.

  “”What was that for?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Maybe I think you look adorable in your Little Bo Peep costume,” Nick said, “or maybe I admire you for getting out of judging the children's talent show when the rest of us mere mortals failed, or maybe I just felt like it.”