Janine Marie - Rigging a Murder 01 - The Single Shoe Mystery (13 page)

“Now be a good girl, and let’s agree to sell the company so we can continue this pleasant celebration.” The last was said in a horse voice that sent shivers through Catherine.

Desperately she said, “John… I don’t want to sell the company and I don’t want to marry you!”

John calmly said, “Yes, you do.” He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the bed. Then, pushing her in front of him, down the stairs to the engine room, he added, “Either you change your mind or you can join Lorenzo.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

W
e woke up docked at Geranium Island on Sunday to a cool foggy morning—great for joggers, dog walkers, and gardeners, but I wanted to sit on the deck enjoying my coffee and newspaper in the sun. This is a real treat because at home I get all my news online, and I really do enjoy the old-fashioned newspaper. It’s great to see a whole page at a glance, and I love the folding challenge, followed by finding the right page to continue the article, then refolding the paper—not to mention my favorite part, the page negotiation with Thomas. We were mid-debate about who should have page A5 when my cell phone rang. Since my phone was down below in the galley, I reluctantly handed page A5 to a gloating Thomas and went to see who was calling me on Sunday morning.

“Hi, Janeva,” came Tiffany’s voice across the cell line.

“Tiff. What’s up?”

“Well, you know we always go to visit Cody’s aunt after church on Sundays.”

“Yes… is she okay?”

“Oh, yes, she is still the same; the cancer isn’t getting worse but she seems thinner and getting depressed. I guess being in a hospital day after day gets you down. But that’s not why I called: as we were leaving I saw Stella Blackwood on a stretcher in the hall.”

“Stella? Really?! How did you know it was her? Have you met her?” I asked surprised.

“No—I mean yes, I’ve seen her at the club. It’s her; I checked the name on her chart. I know I haven’t met her before but we recognized her from the Yacht Club fundraiser, when you and Thomas sat with her, so I knew she was a friend of yours. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Thank you, Tiffany, it was good of you to call me,” I replied. “Do you know why Stella was in hospital?”

“Not for sure, it’s all confusing. She was in bad shape…. “ Taking a deep breath Tiffany continued, “She was very bruised, swollen and bloody. She was waiting to go in for full body x-rays because they say she has multiple broken bones.”

“Oh my God, how horrible! Was she in a car accident?” I asked.

“No, that’s the confusing part: the aid who was pushing her around said under her breath that she had JUMPED in front of the commuter train. She is on suicide watch and they are searching for relatives to advise on what facility to send her to once she is all bandaged up.”

“She jumped in front of a train! Wow, I don’t believe it, really? I hardly know her, but from what I know it’s not in character! Where is John—her husband?” I added, in case Tiffany didn’t know his name.

“I asked if they had located her husband and was told no, not yet, and that they would appreciate any assistance I might be able to give.”

“Right; that’s where I come in,” I replied. “I know they were staying with Catherine after Lorenzo’s death anyway… hmm. They may still be. I’ll call over there now. If I don’t find him there I’ll try Trent Braise-Bottom the Third; he might know where I can reach John.” Even with this sad news, I still had to work hard to stifle the giggle that always came when I said Trent’s ridiculous name.

“Janeva, that’s not all.” Tiffany added. I resisted filling in the silence as I sensed that something else was bothering her. “It’s just that when I took Stella’s hand and told her I was a friend of yours and you would be able to track down her husband…. Oh, this is so strange… maybe she was delirious with pain killers…”

“Tiffany, what did she say?” I interrupted.

“That John pushed her”!

“What… what exactly did she say?” I insisted.

“I quote, ‘No, not John, he pushed me… John pushed me.’ Then she started to cough up blood and the aid waved me away.”

Thanking Tiffany and ending the call, I called Catherine’s house and left a voice message. Then I called Trent’s and left the same message. I easily retrieved those phone numbers from the Yacht Club member directory we keep on our boat. Catherine’s cell number was on my cell phone contact list from the stabbing at Lorenzo’s office on Friday. Again no answer, so I left yet another voice message, then called the club to see if Catherine, Trent, or John were there and was told that Catherine and a guest had lunched in the lounge but had left a little while before.

I asked to be transferred to the upstairs lounge where they had eaten and was told by the bartender, after he looked out the window, that they were walking down the dock to the Atlantis, that yacht having just returned to the dock from Canada. Unsure what to do next, I decided to bring Thomas up to speed and get his ever practical advice.

“Don’t stress about it. I’m sure the hospital will find John soon enough; anyway, it sounds like Stella might need some time to sort things out first,” was Thomas’s reply after I relayed the events to him.

Then, looking at his watch, Thomas announced, “Time to leave.” I knew this meant “I’m going to start the engine now and cast off the lines,” so I said a quick goodbye to Greg and Steph. Kevin and Sam hadn’t emerged from their boat and the shades were still down, so either they were still asleep or they were watching a movie or deep in a video game.

As I’d predicted, our engine was already running by the time I had said my goodbye, so I untied our bowline and tossed it on the boat, then moved to the mid-ship line and waited for Thomas to release the stern line. After uncleating the mid-ship line and giving the boat a big push, I jumped on.

Fortunately for me there was no wind, as the phone call from Tiffany had distracted me and I hadn’t finished stowing away all the breakfast dishes. After I finished coiling the dock lines and putting them in the hatch, along with the fenders, I went down below to finish up with the dishes and remind Katie that she had better get packed up now because her friend Alix’s mom was picking her up at the Yacht Club as soon as we arrived; the girls were going to Alix’s house to work on their school project.

Leaving Katie doing packing, I joined Thomas on deck; it was a quiet peaceful morning as we sat companionably watching the fog burn off, to be replaced by sun and a cloudless blue sky.

“I just can’t believe the luck Catherine is having,” I said.

“Luck has nothing to do with it! She just made poor choices in friends,” Thomas replied with an eye roll.

“What? Just because her husband was murdered and John’s wife was pushed or jumped in front of a commuter train?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” replied Thomas, who hates to analyze other people. Ignoring him, I carried on, hoping that I might draw him in and get his insights. “And how do you explain the break-in at the company and stabbing of the security guard… now, that had nothing to do with choices that Catherine made.”

“True, that is very strange. I don’t understand why she doesn’t just sell that company. She should take her money and get away from that group.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! She can’t sell even if she wanted to.”

“What why on earth not?” Thomas demanded.

“Because Lorenzo needed money to finish some new product he was about to launch.” I paused. “He was counting on investor financing that was to close last week, but with his death it all fell apart.”

“So all the more reason to sell. It does seem like the obvious solution.”

“It might, but he put the house up for a line of credit that is now maxed out. I gather the only way they will make payroll and the office lease payment is from the sale of the Atlantis on Monday.”

“Okay, okay, but I still don’t get it. If she sells the company, the new buyer deals with the line of credit in the purchase. Catherine gets the lien off her house, which by the way she should sell, too, and start a new life. Really, what am I missing?”

“When you put it that way, its seems very clear, but Frank—”

“Who is Frank?” Thomas interrupted.

“Frank Duffy is the company COO and acting CEO. He said that the other company’s offer was way too low, especially since the new product was about to launch. I’ve seen some of it and it’s amazing.” I went on to tell him about it and showed him the Dexia app and told him about the new product. Of course I made him promise not to tell anyone. “So you see, a purchaser will have to pay a lot more once the new product—E-lett something or other—is selling. Catherine wants to wait to sell, plus I think she is doing it as much to honor Lorenzo’s dream as for the money.” Looking at the horizon where the grey-blue water met the clear, light-blue sky, my thoughts returned to Lorenzo’s murder.

“It’s a good thing that the Canadian police are convinced that the murderers are those two missing crew members.”

“Why do you say that?” Thomas asked.

“Well, with all that’s happened to Catherine, if its not them, then it has to be someone we know…. I wonder what Lorenzo did to them that they had to murder him?” I mused.

Laughing, Thomas said, “Sorry. I completely forgot to tell you: that Canadian police inspector called me.”

“Really? Was it because they had released the Lorenzo’s, I mean Catherine’s, yacht?”

“No… they wanted to ask me more questions. Apparently they found the two missing crew members and ruled them out as suspects.”

“What! Really?!” I cried.

“They called…”

I interrupted “But why?

“Because…” Thomas tried again.

“Where were they?”

“They were at…”

“Who else could have done it?”

“Stop with the hundred questions and give me a chance to answer,” was Thomas’s frustrated reply.

I firmly closed my mouth and looked at him expectantly.

“I’m not going to tell you unless you get me another cup of coffee,” he replied with a smirk; he was enjoying taunting me.

“But the Yacht Club is right there,” I said, pointing to the Yacht Club and marina on our bow.

“No coffee, no story,” was the frustrating reply.

“Okay, okay. Do you want a biscotti with that?” I inquired sarcastically as I headed down below to pour him a coffee out of the thermos I had made earlier.

Stepping up from the galley into the cockpit, I handed Thomas a mug of coffee.

“Were is my biscotti?”

Rolling my eyes, I handed it to him.

“Look there is the Atlantis” I said as we turned into the marina. “Tell me, why were the two crew members released if they murdered Lorenzo? And if they didn’t murder Lorenzo, then who did?”

“You’re doing it again!”

“Sorry, please tell me!” I begged

“Can’t now, we are at our slip.”

Groaning, I got up to secure the docking lines to our boat, then yelled for Katie to come and help. I jumped off the boat with my line, securing it to its cleat, then I caught Katie’s bow line, secured it, and finally, after a short sprint on the dock from the bow to the stern of our boat, I grabbed the stern line from Thomas. Back on the boat I went down below to finish the cleanup while Thomas grabbed the hose and busily scrubbed the deck.

As the sounds of scrubbing and rinsing subsided, Thomas yelled down “Katie, Alix’s mom is here to pick you up!”

Katie grabbed her school knapsack, gave me a quick kiss, and was gone. I smiled to myself and wondered how much work the girls would really get done for their project in a group setting. But I guess it’s never too early for them to learn the ninety-ten percent rule. Since Katie was part of the ten percent who do all the work, I was sure to hear about the project in great detail as she vented later that so-and-so wasn’t doing his or her share.

Thomas left to walk Katie up the dock to where Alix and her mom were waiting. As I tossed our overnight bags up onto the deck from below, my gaze strayed to the Atlantis. It looked both familiar to have it back in its slip and strange, since the big yacht’s space had been empty for the last few weeks and I was used to seeing open water behind it now.

Turning to go back down below to bring up the next load, I was surprised to see John Blackwood walking down the dock with an overnight bag. How strange! I thought. Oh well—I’d better finish the packing before Thomas returns with the wheelbarrow to move our bags and the cooler to the car.

It only took a minute to finish loading the cooler and lug it up to the deck, where I was even more surprised to see Trent walking up to the Atlantis. What was he doing there?