Janine Marie - Rigging a Murder 01 - The Single Shoe Mystery (5 page)

“No, it’s pretty clear that it was someone he knew. How else could they have gotten on the boat and been with him in his office?”

“Why do you say that?” Steph inquired.

We all turned to look at her. We had been so involved in the verbal debate we had forgotten she was there.

“Right—you didn’t see the body! He was wearing the same clothes he had on that night at dinner, and had a half-drunk glass of scotch on his desk,” Greg replied.

“Pure speculation: we need facts!” interjected Thomas. “I vote we go back and see what we can find out.”

Nodding his agreement, Greg said, “Janeva is right, I’m sure Catherine is in hysterics by now.”

“No way, I’m not going anywhere near that boat,” pronounced Steph.

“Will you hang out with Katie, then?” I asked.

“Love to! Katie, let’s play that board game you were telling me about.”

“YES!” came Katie’s immediate reply.

Leaving Katie and Steph safely locked in the boat, happily debating the merits of different board games, the rest of us put our wet rain gear back on and headed over to the scene of the crime on the yacht Atlantis.

Just before boarding, Thomas stopped us.

“Good: the Blackwoods are both still at Trent’s boat!… We need a plan,” he said as he looked at me.

“Fine,” I grumbled, “what do you have in mind?”

“We need to play to our strengths here. I’ll go up to the bridge and get back on the radio, let the police and Coast Guard know about the tree, and find out when they think they can get here.

“Greg, you should check on the body, make sure it’s secure… and that no one has disturbed it. Janeva, check on Catherine and Nancy the cook. I expect we will be seeing Trent, Wiffy, John, and Stella soon enough, so let’s try and detain them in the salon until the police arrive.”

“Right; better to observe them and see who acts guilty!” I exclaimed. “Greg, here—take my phone and get some photos of the crime scene,” I added.

“Janeva, this isn’t a TV show, this is REAL,” growled Thomas. “Try to control yourself; we could be in real danger.”

“Okay, okay; what do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Look around, see if you can find out what happened to the two other crew members. They have to be somewhere, and we didn’t see them on Trent’s boat.”

A half hour later found us sitting on the settee in the lavish main salon of the Atlantis.

“Well,” I broke the silence, “what did the Coast Guard and police say?”

“Nothing… in short, we are trapped here until the storm—well, fog in particular—clears up, and/or that tree moves. Did you find any sign of the missing crew, and how are Catherine and the cook?”

“No sign of the two missing crew. I checked the cabin, and their uniforms, toiletries, etc. are still there. I did a quick search of the boat and didn’t see anything else amiss,” I replied. “Catherine is still sleeping and I was able to calm Nancy down by ordering up a huge lunch.” Looking around, I mused, “I know we’ve already eaten, but she needed something to do, and anyway I’m sure Trent’s group will be happy to have lunch.” I paused for breath. “As requested, I also asked her about the missing crew. Apparently Carl, the first mate, was a diesel mechanic by trade and one of his jobs was to keep the boat running. He also drove the boat when Lorenzo got bored or was entertaining, did any repairs, and did all the other maintenance to keep the boat in tip-top shape.”

“What about the body?” Thomas asked.

Greg held up a key: “Just as I left it.”

“Are we sure that John or Stella don’t have a key?” Thomas asked, looking worried.

“Nancy said… when I asked her if she had seen anyone going into Lorenzo’s office, what was most interesting is that she said it’s always locked, only Lorenzo had keys,” I replied.

“Oh, it sounds like we are about to have company,” Greg interrupted, hearing voices and standing up to look outside on the dock.

John and Stella Blackwood were walking alongside, chatting amiably with Trent and his wife.

“What are we going to say to them?” I asked.

Thomas steepled his fingers, looking thoughtful.

“Here is what we are going to do. Janeva, you head off the women, and find out why John and Stella left. We know Trent was planning to leave this morning, but there was no mention of John and Stella going with them at dinner last night. Distract them with the missing crew, and if asked if you have seen Lorenzo, say he is sick or missing if they press you. Watch their faces, look for discomfort; one of them might be our killer.”

Chapter Six

The Call

From
a telephone transcript acquired by Janeva in a later book, she felt it important and appropriate to add here

L
ooking at his watch as he typed furiously on his laptop, Max thought Why does everything always happen at the last minute? I’m about to board, and now this!

Grabbing his iPhone and dialing, he demanded into the device, “…Where are you?!”

“Princess Louisa,” came the faint voice.

“Why are you still there?” growled Max.

“A storm,… never mind, I can barely hear you, we have a bad connection….”

“Did you get it, in the shoe?” snapped Max.

“Yes.”

“You need to distance yourself from that shoe until the shoe unwittingly transports the code to its destination, so get out of there, NOW! “ Max said, and ended the conversation.

Max put down his iPhone. As he sat waiting for his plane to be ready for him to board, his mind wandered. I’m sick of traveling, it used to be fun but now I find it tedious, man I miss the old days when I first founded the company. It was fun back then, a small, creative, hardworking team. That was 13 years ago; now we’re almost 60,000 people worldwide. We have become self-perpetuating, we need to grow to expand, make more money, or the shareholders revolt.

Finally boarded and in his favorite seat, Max sat staring blankly at the tarmac

His iPhone chimed, bringing him out of his reverie. Only a text. He would reply on the plane. Max picked up his bag and headed to his flight.

Smiling, Max accepted a drink from the flight attendant.

His thoughts again ran to the future of the company. It was his life, and had consumed him. I need that product, architecture and code! he mused. And before they announce their new product! He slammed his empty glass down on his armrest so hard that some ice flew out. This is our space. We can’t have that company beating us at our own game! We need to know exactly how they are building it and rush our version to market before them: it will crush them.

“Would you like another one?” asked the flight attendant in a soft Southern voice.

Scowling, he held up his glass for her to take. “Damn-it, yes,” he replied as he looked at her appreciatively. He had no family. True, there was always a string of girlfriends who were more than happy to join him on his private plane and stay in luxury hotels around the world as he checked on his business assets. But even they were getting boring. Most had so little of value to talk about, and the interesting ones had lives and careers that they weren’t willing to give up to join him in his gypsy lifestyle.

Chapter Seven

“Hurry up!”

I
cornered Stella as soon as she stepped into the main salon where I had been sitting with Thomas and Greg just moments before. Thomas and Greg got up to intercept Trent and John Blackwood on the back deck.

“Where is, is…Wiffy?” I asked Stella; I still struggled with Trent’s wife’s name. “I’m sorry I don’t remember her real or full name?”

Stella laughed, a strange sound in the circumstances. But her obvious ease boded well for her innocence.

“I doubt you were ever told it,” she replied, “I wasn’t.” She giggled. “Wiffy finds Catherine to be a bit over the top, if you know what I mean?” she leaned in conspiratorially. “You may not have noticed, but Catherine is a bit of a princess and Wiffy finds it just too much to bear so she avoids coming over here.”

Just then John came in with their travel bags, nodded at me in greeting, and proceeded toward their cabin to drop them off.

As Stella watched him, I felt her mood change. She had been in a cheerful, calm mood, but as her husband walked past her smile faded and her face fell and went pale. I looked at her with concern.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She made a visible effort to regain her composure and then broke into tears.

I was astonished. Was this a confession so quickly? I wondered. Not really knowing what to do, I put an arm around her shoulders and made soft comforting noises.

After a time she asked for a drink. I was more than happy to provide her with one, not knowing what else to do.

I handed her a gin and tonic, sat down beside her, and said nothing. Actually I was wracking my brain about what to say. I kept coming up with this and that and then rejecting the ideas just as quickly. But not saying anything must have been the right approach because as Stella sipped her G and T she started to talk so quietly that I had to move in to hear her.

“I thought that his infatuation with Catherine was finally over…. I thought that when he woke me this morning demanding that we pack and leave, that just maybe he had finally seen through her, or they had had a fight and it was over,” she sniffed, and then put her head in her arms on the sofa pillows of the settee and started to cry softly again.

“What happened?” I asked. I could tell by her pleading look that she wanted to tell me but didn’t know how. “Start at the beginning,” I suggested gently.

Stella’s story went as follows:

“Stella, Stella, get up!” John whispered urgently as he shook his wife Stella awake from a deep sleep.

“What… why? It’s only 8 in the morning,” she replied sleepily, as she rolled over.

“I mean it: get up now! We have to go.”

Realizing by the tone of his voice that her husband meant it, she sat up and looked at him quizzically. “Go where?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get out of bed and get dressed,” John said, as he threw a pair of jeans and a T-shirt at her and then started packing their clothes into their suitcases haphazardly.

“The next thing I knew, we were on the Braise-Bottoms’ boat, leaving,” Stella concluded.

“Do you know why John was in such a rush to leave, Stella?” I inquired gently.

“Oh, he said something about needing to get back to work, and that’s true, we have a flight booked out of Vancouver tomorrow,” Stella said with a shrug. “When you live with John you get used to stuff like that,” she finished with a small smile.

We looked up as Thomas walked into the salon, followed by Greg, John, and Trent.

“The Coast Guard and RCMP are here,” announced Thomas.

“How did they get here so quickly?” I asked.

“Take a look outside.” Thomas gestured to the window.

I did, and was astounded to see that a massive 88-foot Type 400 AP1 Coast Guard Hovercraft had pulled up and was rafting to the Atlantis.

“They cleared the tree across the rapids on their way in,” Thomas said, answering my unasked question. He had only just stopped speaking as the official-looking group walked in.

“I am Inspector Stanley, and this is… ” the head of the group said, then continued to introduce the rest of RCMP and Coast Guard, but I tuned out, alarmed by Catherine’s arrival in the room. Her face was white, she was swaying, and looked terrified. I started toward her, unnoticed, since Thomas and the rest were deep in conversation with the police and the Coast Guard. I made it to Catherine just in time to catch her as she collapsed, and eased her into a nearby chair.

“Catherine! What’s wrong?” Even as the words left my mouth I wished I could swallow them back. Of course I knew what was wrong—her husband had just been brutally murdered! Quick thinking has never been my strength; I ponder and analyze things, but that approach was not helping me now. So, seeing that Stella needed another drink, I did the logical thing and told Catherine that what she needed right now was a gin and tonic. Clearly that was the last thing she needed, but it was the best I could come up with.

Thomas, Greg, John, and Trent disappeared with the official-looking group of inspectors, to view the body, aka crime scene, leaving me with the women, so I went to make them two strong gin and tonics. To my relief, both women readily accepted the drinks. At first I was surprised that we were left alone but as I handed the around the G and Ts, I noticed that there were police stationed on the deck of the boat, guarding the exits, and others on the dock. I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised it was a murder, and this wasn’t an area where murders happened frequently. Plus that huge hovercraft could bring a whole regiment on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After surveying the body, Inspector Stanley determined that the yacht was indeed a crime scene. This turned out to be unfortunate for everyone who had hopes of leaving. We were ordered to gather and wait in the salon, while RCMP officers were dispatched to collect Steph and Katie and search all our boats.

“Mom!” Looking uncharacteristically scared and confused, Katie dropped Steph’s hand and ran into my arms. “What? Why? Um… ”

“It’s okay, honey, the policemen are just doing their jobs,” I said, hugging her. Even though the situation was appalling, I was enjoying hugging Katie and I felt better having her close, especially as the RCMP were acting like the murderer was one of us! And on consideration, I guessed that—with the rapids being blocked and there being no other way in or out of the area—the murderer was sure to still be in the area.

“We were in the middle of our board game,” whined Katie. “Why did we have to leave and what are they looking for?”

At this point Thomas arrived to stand beside us. “They are interviewing everyone.” I looked up at him, surprised. I hadn’t realized he was being interviewed. A police officer appeared behind him. Looking at me, he asked politely,

“Are you Thomas’s wife?”

“Yes, I’m Janeva,” I replied.

“Is this your daughter?”

“Yes, this is Katie,” I replied.

“She will need to be interviewed also,” he replied.

At this point Katie broke into tears.

“We can’t have you swapping stories,” the officer said. Pointing at Katie he added, “You are next, young lady.” At this Katie and I looked at him in alarm

“I’m not comfortable with my 11-year-old daughter being interrogated,” Thomas stated angrily.

Moving his hands with his palms outstretched in a calming manner, the officer continued, “Let me finish. As you have already been interviewed, you may go with her if you promise not to speak, help, or interrupt.” Thomas nodded to agree, and Katie clung even tighter to me, if that was possible.

“Honey, you must go, don’t worry, your Dad will be right beside you.” This registered with Katie. She let me go and transferred her affection to Thomas, her new champion.

They weren’t gone long as Katie had no information for them, having stayed on our boat or the Writemans’. Then it was my turn. I didn’t get off so quickly, and it felt like hours of questioning; the officer must have asked each question ten different ways. I was exhausted and emotionally drained when I finally returned to our boat several hours later.

The boat was a disaster. The officers had clearly searched it: books, clothes, charts, and DVDs were scattered throughout the boat. Turning, I went in search of Thomas and Katie, who were exactly where I expected them to be: curled up on the settee of the Writemans’ boat.

“Here, you look like you need this,” Steph said as she handed me a gin martini.

“Thank you, this is exactly what I need.” Gratefully taking a big sip of the relaxing beverage, I asked, “Did they trash your boat also?”

“Yes, Greg and I got it put back together fairly quickly once we started. Do you want me to help you with your boat?”

“Thank you, but I’ll rally my troops off your settee and we will get it done.”

“Are they looking for the murder weapon?” Katie asked.

“Must be. When I left Lorenzo and Catherine’s boat the Coast Guard were scuba diving under the boat and dock,” I replied.

“The RCMP sent a team up the waterfall path, too,” added Greg. “They must be looking for those missing crew members.

“Oh that’s good, I’m sure they are the murderers,” Steph said. “I hope they catch them so we can leave.”

“Hear, hear!” Thomas said. “I’ve had it with this place. I hope we will be free to go
after the RCMP have finished interviewing everyone and collecting our names, addresses, phone numbers, and travel plans.”

“I hope so, too,” Steph said with feeling.

“They warned us if they weren’t able to contact us they would have us detained at U.S. Customs. It appears that the police are pretty sure that the two missing crew were the guilty party,” Greg added.

“I wonder why they killed him?” Katie asked.

“That’s and excellent question, honey. We will probably never know…. Who knows what Lorenzo and Catherine were like to work for, or what secrets were festering on that yacht? I’m sure the Canadian police will figure it all out and we will read about it in the paper soon,” I replied.

Thomas, Greg, Trent, and John had all petitioned the RCMP and Coast Guard with our need and desire to leave. No one wanted to spend another night at Princess Louisa and we needed to start making our way home. Summer was over, along with our holidays, and I still had some back-to-school shopping to do for Katie. Fortunately for us, the police agreed, feeling that they had all the information they needed for the time being. They took possession of the Atlantis, sending Catherine back to the States on Trent’s boat, and informed us all that we still had to go through Customs, so if they had additional questions or had found anything to discredit our statements, we would be detained in Vancouver. The moment we deemed the current slake enough for us to motor through the rapids, we happily joined the line of boats heading out of Princess Louisa.

It was wonderful to be free of the fog; though it was still rainy, we at least had better visibility than before. In tandem with Greg and Steph, we headed for home.