The House on Mermaid Point by Wendy Wax

with sharp-eyed anticipation while the guides, whose steps were far springier than their clients’, began to clean and fillet their customers’ catches. The remains, presumably inedible, were tossed into the water for whatever hovered below or swooped down from above. An occasional morsel was tossed to the pelicans that had commandeered the surrounding pilings.
    As they watched, really big fish that had apparently not gotten away were hung from hooks under different charter captains’ signs. Photos of the slain and the slayer were snapped.
    “It seems unfair to photograph them when they’re dead like that,” Nicole said.
    “Yeah, well, I hear it’s a lot harder to get them to hang still when they’re alive,” Avery said drily. “I know I wouldn’t.”
    The gulls cawed insistently as they swooped and dove. The line for beers grew.
    A horn tapped behind them and they turned to see Madeline Singer’s minivan. Kyra was at the wheel while Maddie held down the passenger seat. Dustin sat in his car seat in the back. “What are we doing here?” Kyra called out the window.
    “No idea, but there’s a parking spot over there.” Avery pointed toward the covered storage. “I guess now that we’re all here someone will tell us . . . something.”
    With a frown for the camera crew, Kyra zipped the minivan into the spot and lifted Dustin out of his car seat. Maddie took his hand while Kyra drew her video camera out of its case and slung it over her shoulder. Troy’s camera and Anthony’s microphone were already aimed down toward Dustin. The little boy smiled and gave Troy a high five with his free hand. Kyra gave the crew a curt nod. There was a small hugfest with Nicole, whom they hadn’t seen since Christmas at Bella Flora.
    “Wow, look at all the boats,” Maddie said, scooping Dustin up into her arms. “And the birds. Oh, my gosh! Look at the size of those fish, Dustin. Some of them are as big as you.” She carried him onto the closest dock and pointed at the hanging trophies. The network camera and microphone followed.
    “Ish!” Dustin cried, leaning and reaching out toward the water beneath the docks.
    Maddie held tight but peered into the water. “He’s right. Oh, my gosh.” She peered closer. “What kind of fish are those?” she asked the man, whose hands never stopped moving as he cleaned and wrapped fish.
    “Those are tarpon. If you look close you can see a whole school of them down there.
    “You see that round head over there?” the man asked with a nod. His fingers and the knife they clutched were still flying. “Right next to that skiff.” He nodded toward a small open boat tied up nearby. “That’s a green turtle.”
    They watched in silence for a while as the crowd began to disperse. Deckhands swabbed down boats; garbage was hauled off. Some of the men headed to the bar, where they stood around, presumably swapping fish stories.
    Kyra shot the activity, the men, the birds, the fish. Troy shot Dustin and them, in that order.
    “Good God, that’s enough,” Kyra said, taking Dustin from Maddie and angling him away from the network camera.
    “Not nearly. Not according to my boss,” Troy replied. “In fact, I have a daily Dustin Deranian quota to maintain and at the moment I’ve only got about three hours before his bedtime.”
    Kyra closed her eyes briefly, shook her head. “I thought we had an understanding.”
    “We did. But Lisa Hogan didn’t sign on to it. Believe me, if I’m off this shoot for failing to deliver enough footage, they’ll send somebody else who’ll be all over Dustin and won’t care how any of you look.”
    “Unlike you.”
    His tone cooled, matching hers. “Unlike me.”
    The women formed a loose ring around Kyra and Dustin as people brushed by and the parking lot emptied. An open boat with a console and steering wheel in the center glided into the marina and eased into a vacant boat slip. A wiry man with a deeply tanned face and a long-limbed stride