Murder in Ocean Pines

By Dana Phipps

CICI KING HAD IT ALL. She married the man of her dreams and has a beautiful waterfront home. She can afford to live as she pleases. But the tide is turning. Cici's marriage is slipping away like sand being swept to sea. Her husband is a successful businessman with a penchant for money and women. Cici wants to find out why Gr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dana Phipps
• Release date: May 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578499857

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Greg King was determined to plan the perfect murder. He wanted to be rid of his wife. Divorce was not an option. He wanted all of their assets and investments for himself.

Greg opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and his wife’s jar of cold cream popped out, breaking on the tiled floor. Cursing, he picked up the glass pieces and discarded them into the wastebasket. He wiped up the greasy mess on the floor. Smoothing thick shaving cream on his cheeks and grabbing his razor, he began tackling his stubble. I’ll be late for this morning’s presentation because of her.

Damn, he said, nicking himself. He covered the small, bloody spot above his lip with a bit of torn toilet tissue, hoping it would stop the bleeding. That’s just great. I look like crap. Now she’s ruined my face.

Fully dressed, Greg entered the kitchen.

Accident shaving? Cici asked, as she buttered a toasted waffle.

Greg ignored her and sat down at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee. I couldn’t find my white Oxford shirt I wanted to wear today. Didn’t you pick up my shirts from the cleaners yesterday?

Oh, I forgot. Sorry.

He raised his voice. What? You forgot? He threw his hot coffee towards her, staining her silk robe.

What the hell’s wrong with you? Cici said. You could’ve really burned me!

Greg ran his fingers through his hair. How in the world could you forget to pick up my shirts?

I said I was sorry. I had other things on my mind, Cici said. But throwing hot coffee at me? Are you crazy? You ruined my robe. Looking down at her front, she said, What a mess.

You’re irresponsible. All you did yesterday was go to lunch at Fish Tails, Greg said. Cici’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Greg grabbed his briefcase, stormed into the garage, and backed out his SUV. What a real pain in the ass she is.

In the afternoon, after his presentation, Greg drove to Harborside, one of his favorite bars. The restaurant faced the inlet, had a huge outside deck, and was known for its Orange Crushes. Boats pulled into the many slips, and fishing trawlers glided by with their catch of the day.

Greg signaled his number-one bartender. Hey, how’s it going? Greg said to him.

He answered with a thumbs-up.

Greg slid onto a stool next to an attractive woman and ordered a scotch.

That looks refreshing, he said to her. What is it?

A mojito.

I’m Greg King, he said, putting out his hand for her to shake.

Lisa Wolfe, she said.

I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Believe me, I’d remember, Greg said.

I don’t come here that often. This is my day off from the salon, she said. No haircuts today. I usually take my days off to catch up on things. My dog is at the groomers now.

So you don’t trim your own dog’s hair? Greg asked.

She laughed and said, No.

You have great hair. Do you cut it yourself?

No, someone at the salon does my hair, and I do hers, she said.

You’ve almost finished your drink. How about I order you another? Greg asked.

She looked at her watch. Well, I guess. Okay. Thanks, she said.

You already know you’ve got great hair, but you’re also very pretty, Greg said. Who did you get your good looks from?

Thank you. My mom, she said as she sipped her drink. You know, you have nice, thick hair. Why don’t you drop by my salon sometime, and I’ll give you a haircut?

Yeah, that sounds great. Hey, before I get that haircut, would you like to go out to dinner sometime? Greg asked.

She smiled and said, Sure. She looked at her watch again. Sorry, I’ve got to go. My dog is waiting, she said, and she handed him her card and left.

She’s really hot, said the bartender as Greg paid the tab.

Yes, she’s easy on the eyes, Greg said. And she gave me her phone number. Greg tucked Lisa’s business card into his shirt pocket. Don’t want to lose this card. We’ll set the dinner date tomorrow. What a nice, tight ass she has.

Greg drove his black Escalade out of Harborside’s graveled parking lot and smiled at himself in the rearview mirror. He’d had a great day. First, he received kudos on a successful presentation in Ocean City. Second, he’d ended his day by meeting Lisa at the bar. The only damper that day was his morning spat with Cici. Why couldn’t she be like the other women he met? Yesterday, the jeans Cici wore stretched at the seams. She’d need to buy a size larger soon. He hated that Cici did nothing to improve her appearance. Laziness seemed to be her only talent. When she didn’t have her nose in a book, she cooked, washed the clothes, did shopping, and tidied up the house. If he wasn’t married to her, he could hire someone to do that.

He’d found Cici attractive when he’d first met her. Cici was a cute, petite brunette with deep, green eyes and long, silky hair. Her bikini showed off her flat tummy and shapely legs. They made a great-looking couple back then. But why did she neglect herself and gain a few extra pounds every year? Those legs of hers were now thick and dimpled with cellulite. And it was so embarrassing to sit next to her at the beach. No more of that. He avoided sex with her, and his repulsion turned to hate.

He swerved sharply to the right after someone beeped a horn at him. An older man gave him the finger. Got to keep my mind focused on the road. Greg adjusted the rearview mirror again. He spread his lips, looking at his white, bleached teeth against his dark tan. He ran his tongue over his front teeth. At 41, his wavy, black hair showed no trace of gray. Beautiful women were drawn to him. He was proud that he was one of the top salesmen of his food-distribution company, and he liked the travel component of his job. Traveling all over the Delmarva area, and staying overnight often, kept him away from Cici. His well-paying job afforded him the opportunity to renovate his house into his dream home, and now it was time to enjoy the good life—without Cici.

He often daydreamed about what it would be like without her. The thought of spending the rest of his life with her was loathsome. Since divorce was out of the question, should he hire someone to kill his wife, or should he do it himself? Growing up in Whaleyville on his father’s farm, about 18 miles northwest of Ocean City, he’d learned how to kill animals. He’d had no problem at an early age chopping off a chicken’s head or shooting squirrels with an air gun. He wouldn’t want to chop off Cici’s head, and shooting her with an air gun certainly wouldn’t work. But he strongly believed after the last few years of boredom with her, he was up to the task.

Cici had looked forward to Saturday. She and Greg were invited to his boss’s daughter’s wedding and reception. Cici had bought a striking black dress for the occasion.

How do I look? she asked Greg as she spun around.

Fine, he said. "But you’d look better in it if you took off some weight. You ought to go on The Biggest Loser."

She frowned. Thanks a lot. I’m trying to lose weight. You really know how to ruin my mood. I really love this dress.

The dress is nice, said Greg.

You look great in your suit, she said.

They drove to the church, and after the wedding, they headed to the Dunes Manor Hotel in Ocean City, where the reception was being held. Cici found their table for eight people, and she and Greg were the last ones to take their seats.

This is my wife, Cici, Greg said. People introduced themselves to her.

Great job on getting the Top Salesman Award, Greg, said Gus, one of the sales reps.

Greg knew most everyone—colleagues and clients from work and their wives. But he didn’t know the gorgeous brunette who was seated opposite him and Cici.

Gus, who is your lovely date? asked Greg.

This is Susan, he said.

How lucky you are, Gus, to have such an attractive lady.

Cici asked Susan, How do you stay so slim? Losing weight is a real battle for me.

I work out some and watch what I eat. Believe it or not, it’s hard for me too, Susan said.

Plates of food were brought to the tables, glasses were filled with wine, and the room was lively with chatter. Over a hundred people filled the room. The band started playing, and Cici was looking forward to dancing. Greg, I love this song. Let’s dance.

Maybe later, not now, he said. Cici took a bite of her buttered roll and watched as couples filled the dance floor.

Gus, do you mind if I have the next dance with Susan? Greg asked.

Sure, if it’s okay with her.

Susan and Greg walked out to the middle of the floor and danced to the music. You are the best-looking lady here. Even prettier than the bride, Greg said.

Cici grabbed her purse from the table and stormed into the restroom. She threw her purse onto the sink’s counter. What a husband. Making a fool of me in front of all his colleagues. Insulting me this morning.

She left the restroom and saw Greg and Susan doing a line dance together. You’ve got to be kidding, she said. Cici sat down at the table, alone. The music stopped, and the band played a slow dance. She saw Greg grab Susan and hold her close as they moved on the dance floor. The next thing she knew, they were nowhere to be seen. And where the hell was Gus? Cici wanted to cry. And scream. Instead, she drank two full glasses of merlot.

Cici spotted Greg going into the restroom. She waited for him outside of the men’s room in the hallway. She quickly approached him when he came out. How could you embarrass me like that? You spent too much time on the dance floor with that woman, Cici said.

I didn’t spend a lot of time with her. Only danced with her three times. I was having a good time. I thought you were too, he said.

Are you serious? Why couldn’t you dance with me? I felt like a fool in front of your friends. You know I like to dance. I hate you! That was a rotten thing to do. I was so hurt.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re making too much of it, said Greg. We can dance the next one.

I could just kill you, she said.

Ha, he laughed.

What’s so funny? Cici asked.

Nothing, he said.

Greg had changed so much. Cici couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex. Was it six months ago? Longer than that? He smoked a pack a day, smelled of booze, left the house unexpectedly, and came home late at night. He shot insults at her more frequently. She’d kept some of these changes in his behavior from Amie, her most trusted friend. She couldn’t kid herself any longer. She would talk to Amie. She needed some advice. Should she and Greg get counseling? No, she’d skip the counseling and just ask him for a divorce.

Monday morning, Cici laid out her walking outfit on the bed. She looked into the mirror, placing her hand on her tummy. I’m too fat. No wonder Greg didn’t want to dance with me. He’s ashamed of me. Cici stepped onto the bathroom scale nude. Disappointed at seeing a pound gain, she sighed. The diet just isn’t working at all. She glanced out her bedroom window across the street at Amie’s house to see if she was coming. She stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and, seeing the time, said, Oh no! Amie would be waiting outside for her if she didn’t get dressed quickly.

Amie walked across the street in her yellow microfiber fleece outfit. Outside the slider’s screen door in the kitchen, Cici heard Amie’s loud voice. Cici, where are you? It’s chilly out here, Amie said as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Coming. Putting on my jacket. Be right out! she yelled, and then bolted out the slider, slipping her right arm into the sleeve.

Cici emerged from her house wearing her light jacket, navy blue shorts, a long-sleeved top, and white sneakers. While waiting outside, Amie tapped her foot and put her hands on her hips. Amie asked, Did you oversleep?

No, I couldn’t find my tennis shoes, Cici said, feigning a smile. Sorry.

Not a problem, Amie said. They met with a hug.

Cici pulled away first. I need this walk.

We can jog a little when we get to Pintail Way, said Amie.

My diet isn’t working, Cici said to Amie. Ate too much crab dip at a wedding reception.

Cici was always on a diet on Mondays. Watching her weight hadn’t been a priority. The weight gain snuck up on her, and she felt it was too late to do anything about it—and so hard to give up her Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. It angered her when her mother told her to take more pride in her figure and also told her Greg might lose interest in her if she didn’t lose some weight.

In the beginning of their marriage, she’d felt secure because they always had money in the bank and gave the appearance of being a successful pair. They were happy back then. Cici enjoyed pleasing Greg by fixing him all kinds of gourmet meals. Eating seconds was not a problem for her.

She never exercised as much as Amie. Walking and jogging a little was enough. She used to jog two miles, three times a week several years ago. Not anymore. Her idea of a good workout now was to curl up with a novel off the best-seller’s list.

She loved her beautiful home that Greg updated. She enjoyed reading in their great room located in the back of the house and gazing out at expansive views of the St. Martin’s River. She was proud of the large, glassed-in sunroom that had a panoramic view of the river, and she could see condo row in Ocean City’s skyline in the distance. The lights from the high-rises were beautiful at night. Two of her four bedrooms faced the street. The other two faced the river. Big windows let in plenty of light, and vaulted ceilings made the space feel twice as large. Greg had enhanced the great room with a well-stocked wet bar, installed a large maintenance-free deck, and remodeled the kitchen and baths.

Their walk took them around Cici’s house onto Teal Circle toward Ocean Parkway. They increased their pace. My shorts feel tighter this morning, Cici said.

You should sign up for the Zumba class I teach at night, now. I think it would do you some good, Amie said.

I know. I’m going to do it, Cici said. Figure I’d better take dieting more seriously. I need to be slim and trim like you, Cici said.

She began perspiring as they walked toward Lookout Point near the river. Both of them observed the waterfront homes as usual. No two homes were alike, and some were neglected. Look at that house over there on the point. I really like that huge blue crab over their garage door, Amie said. And look at that one, Amie said as she pointed. They hung up blue sheets for curtains, and the contour folded side is showing. Must have just moved in.

Cici made no comment. Instead, she just stared downward at the pebbles in the road. The silence hung heavy. Amie squinted in the sunlight and stopped. Cici, is something wrong? You’re awfully quiet. Amie brushed a lock of her long, blonde hair back from her face.

Cici’s eyes welled up, but she didn’t cry. She was beyond that. She felt a lump in her throat. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Greg and me. Greg came home after one o’clock in the morning last Thursday night smelling of liquor. It happens a lot.

What’s going on?

Words tumbled off Cici’s tongue. Greg has been behaving like a jerk for awhile now. Maybe it’s the pressure from his job. I don’t know. She explained his obsessive behavior and lack of sex in their marriage. I never know when his mood will change or when something will tick him off. He threw coffee at me.

What? asked Amie.

He’s hit me. Pushed me once on the cement steps going down into the garage. I fell and scraped my knee. Cici told her what happened at Greg’s boss’s wedding reception. From the way he’s treating me, I bet he’s interested in someone else. I think I should hire a private detective, said Cici. I’m thinking about divorcing him.

Geez, this is breaking news. I’ve witnessed Greg insulting you, but I can’t believe he’s hit you. I’ve always felt you deserved better. I really want to hear more, Cici, especially about the coffee thing, but I’ve got to get to work. And Cici, I know of a P. I. you can hire. We’ll talk later during lunch at my office. I’m really sorry to hear about this. Amie gave her a quick hug and rushed home.

Three hours later, Cici adjusted her bifocals and read the Ocean Pines brochure she found in Amie’s office.

What a great place to buy a home. Ocean Pines has nine miles of waterfront property and has over 3,000 shaded acres nestled on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Built as both a residential and resort community, the developer intended it to be built as a vacation-getaway, a second home adjacent to Ocean City, Maryland. It began to be developed 45 years ago and now there are approximately 15,000 full-time residents and 23,000 summertime dwellers. Assawoman Bay, Manklin Creek, and the St. Martin’s River surround 7,400 homes and 8,500 platted lots. The people in Ocean Pines love the 18-hole golf course, yacht club, four pools, community center, marinas, playgrounds, and tennis complexes. There are walking trails and parks, and they have their own police force and fire comp . . .

What are you reading? Amie asked, as she walked into her office.

All about where we live. If you’re done with your conference call, let’s eat. I’m starving, said Cici. I almost picked up a crab cake from the Southside Deli for Greg’s dinner, then thought, he doesn’t deserve one, the way he’s been acting.

Thanks for picking up the crab cakes, Amie said. They smell delicious.

They moved into the empty conference room and sat down to eat. Amie bit into her crab cake, licking her lips. Yummy. With her mouth full, she said, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t like a jumbo, lump crab cake. Can you?

No, but then I’m someone who loves to eat everything, said Cici.

You crack me up, said Amie.

How’s the real estate business going?

I’m selling about 35 percent foreclosures, but they say the housing market may pick up in the spring of 2014. We’ll see, said Amie.

Cici changed the subject, saying, Since my marriage is falling apart, I was thinking about your first marriage. Have you seen Carl at all since your divorce?

No, but I heard he was still living in Salisbury.

Can’t believe after two years, he told you he was gay, said Cici.

A year and a half. I don’t even like to talk about it. Amie quickly changed the subject. Cici, I know a private detective, Amie said.

Who?

Patrick McCombe. Like me, he went to Salisbury University. He used to be a cop, but now he has his own business in Bishopville. I helped him find an office space to rent there.

No kidding, Bishopville. That’s not far at all from my house, Cici said. Greg makes me feel so inadequate. He filled my tires with air and left for Wilmington this morning. He said I neglect taking care of my car and should be more astute about things.

Well, it still was nice of him to do that, Amie said.

Cici rolled her eyes. Greg underestimates me and makes me feel like my grandmother made me feel when I was little, Cici said. I rarely could please her. I was so afraid of her.

You were a tough kid to have put up with such a wackadoodle grandmother, Amie said.

"Tough? Not really. I thought if I told my mom how mean she was, my grandmother would beat me, and who knows what else. I could write a book about her and call it The Big Bad Nanna."

She then told Amie about the coffee incident. Have you told your mom about Greg and you? asked Amie.

No, not yet, said Cici. "It would upset her, then she would upset me.