Just Add Trouble (Hetta Coffey Mystery Series (Book 3)) by Jinx Schwartz Page B

whiney.
    “I thought I left you safe and sound, settled in at a dock, with a project to keep you busy and out of harm’s way. Evidently, I was, once again, wrong. I have a meeting to go to. Do what you want, but don’t expect me to always bail you out.”
    This conversation was deteriorating quickly, sounding for all the world like a lover’s spat. I hate spats, especially when you don’t get to do the making up part. It’s hard to make up with someone who is half a world away. Of course, that didn’t keep me from saying, “You know, Jenks, I was doing just fine before you came along, and I can bloody well take care of myself. Do me a favor and keep your friggin’ worries to yourself. Hasta la vista , Baby.”
    I hung up and, as always when I do something stupid, immediately regretted my stupidity.
    Jan, back from her walk in time to hear my last retort, sauntered into the main saloon. “Gosh, that sounded mature. No wonder Jenks keeps running off.”
    “Oh, stuff it.”
    She grinned. She loves it when I go off on someone, especially when she’s not the one taking the heat.
    We had a glass of wine and mulled over how we might lure crew for my return trip. “We could ask for crew on the local boaters’ radio net tomorrow morning, see if someone wants to cross over and back. You shouldn’t be gone more than a few days,” Jan suggested.
    “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. God knows who we’d get, and we need someone who actually knows something about power boats.”
    “You want a Mexican or a Gringo?”
    I shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter.”
    “We could post something on the marina bulletin board, like, crew wanted for short cruise to Santa Rosalia and back. Must be mechanically inclined, and ugly.”
    “Ugly?”
    “Hetta, you know how you are. You’re mad at Jenks, so therefore it might not be a good idea to have a hunk on board.”
    I gave her a lip curl and snarl. “It’s Happy Hour time. Let’s listen to the weather report, then make a decision on timing.”
    “Ya know, Hetta, if you got your license, like Jenks wants you to, you could actually ask for a weather report.”
    Unwilling to push my luck with the Happy Hour crowd, we didn’t get a weather forecast until eight o’clock the next morning, and it didn’t sound so hot. Santa Ana winds were in the works for Southern California, so we had less than a twenty-four hour window to cross over before a predicted norther roared down on the sea. Once the wind started, it could blow stink for a full five days.
    “What are we going to do?” Jan whined. “I want to get back to Chino, and I damned well don’t want to take that ferry back when it’s blowing. Maybe I’ll take the plane.”
    I'd already checked and no way was my parrot going on the plane. I saw my chances of ditching Trouble going up in smoke. “No, wait. Let me check the chart. Maybe we can leave right now, make the other side before dark. First thing tomorrow, boogie for Santa Rosalia before the blow.”
    I was already on the move, spreading out the chart and ticking off a mental checklist. Off the top of my head I knew we had plenty of fuel, enough food for an army, and Jenks had checked out the engines, generator, and all the other systems before he left.
“See,” I tapped the chart, “here. Punta Chivato. It’s only sixty-eight miles away, and no tricky entrance to navigate. If we leave by ten, run at ten knots, we’re there before dark.”
    “Is it a safe anchorage?”
    I pulled out a Pat Rain's and then Gerry Cunningham's cruising guides. “Yep, according to both of them. In fact, they say it’s good in a norther, just in case we get caught by the wind and have to hole up for a few days. And there’s even a hotel and a couple of restaurants. What do you think?”
    “What the hell, let’s go, but what will you do for crew on your return trip?”
    I waved my hand. “I’ll deal with that later. Prepare to make for sea, matey.”
    Before we left, I