Page 12 of Mother-Daughter Murder Night

Beth placed the tomatoes gently in front of Jack. “Honey, how was your day?”

Nothing.

“Jack?”

Lana coughed. “Jack had a challenging day. There was a dead body found in the slough.”

Jack rocked her head back and forth, in assent or recognition. Lana continued in a whisper. “She had some tourists who came upon it over by the north bank. She had to take charge and report it and everything.”

Beth reached out to touch Jack’s shoulder, slow and tentative at first. When she felt Jack press into her hand, she scooched her chair closer and swept Jack into a tight sideways hug.

“Honey. That must have been awful.”

Jack leaned into the hug and ate a tomato.

“It’s terrible seeing a dead body. It still gets to me every time when a patient’s life ends. It must have been scary to come upon him in the water like that.”

“He was young,” Jack mumbled. “At first I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl because of the long hair. For a minute it felt like it could have been me.”

“Jack, you know that would never happen to you. You’re so careful. You’re a great swimmer. And strong. The slough is your second home.”

Beth remembered their earliest days together, just the two of them, Beth collecting rocks on hikes through the high grass, Jack cooing at the sea lions from the front of the baby carrier. By seven, Jack was picking her way down the scree behind the house on her own, wading into the muck to build tiny forts where she imagined otters might like to sleep at night. When she was twelve, Jack begged Beth for a paddleboard for Chanukah. After a tense negotiation in which the girl just kept repeating, “I am very responsible,” Beth gave in. And got used to watching Jack shuffle down the hillside, the board affixed to the top of her head like a helicopter blade.

Now that same pink board was leaning against the wall by the back door, a towel draped over it like a shroud.

Beth pulled back to look at her daughter, her hands holding up Jack’s shoulders.

“What happened after you . . . ?”

“The coast guard came. And some sheriff’s deputies. A couple detectives from Monterey. There were a lot of uniforms.”

“Jack, you were very brave.”

“No, not really, I mean, I just took care of my group and showed the officers where the body was in the mud.”

“Did they say anything about who it was that died?”

“Not while I was there.”

Lana coughed. “I looked it up on my phone. So far, they’re just reporting that the slough is shut down until further notice. The last time someone died in the slough was two years ago. A fisherman had a heart attack and fell out of his boat. They found the boat, and then they found him a couple days later.”

They all turned to the window, as if the dark could tell them something.

“I don’t know what could have happened.” Jack’s voice was low, uncertain. “The guy was wearing one of our life jackets, but he wasn’t on my tour. He didn’t have an empty boat or a paddleboard or anything that I could see. He was dressed in normal clothes, jeans. Heavy boots. Like a fisherman. But not one of the regulars. I think.”

“Did Paul know who he was?”

“Paul wasn’t there.”

Beth put her arms around Jack again and gave her a long, slow squeeze.

“I’m so sorry this happened, honey. You can sleep in my room tonight if you want.”

Jack closed her eyes and gave a grateful nod. She pressed her head into Beth’s soft shoulder, breathing in her mom’s steady scent of eucalyptus trees and salt.

Lana coughed again. “I’ll call the school and tell them you won’t be in tomorrow. You can stay home with me.”

Jack raised her head in surprise.