“This is a more formal interview, and for that reason we’re going to make a recording.” The chief pointed to a video camera in the corner. “If you have any questions, please ask for a clarification.”
As Kitty translated from Spanish to American Sign Language, Zoe nodded but the others didn’t bother to respond.
The chief introduced every person in the room for the sake of the video, then began.
“Heather Jousmal was due to be married to your ex-boyfriend?” he asked, looking at Reagan.
She looked surprised. “Yes, but it was no big deal.”
“A boyfriend you had for several years in college and thought you would marry.”
Reagan’s face went pink. “It was never official. We never… He never asked me, exactly.”
“This transfer of ownership, it happened after Heather gave you something very strong to drink.” The chief leaned forward.
Kitty hesitated on the “ownership’ part. Sometimes she couldn’t be sure whether the chief was being sarcastic, or literal.
“You know, he wasn’t that great.”
“And planning the wedding didn’t bother you?” the chief asked.
She laughed. “I want to start a wedding planning business. It was good practice. Unlimited budget, bridezilla, and crazy family.”
Lacy rolled her eyes. “I think you were planning to sabotage it.”
“I was not!” Reagan glared at her. “Just because you were mad about the bridesmaids’ dresses. Not my fault you’re built like a tree.”
Lacy’s face went red. “A tree? I’m strong. I don’t starve myself to death like you and Zoe.”
Zoe hadn’t said anything so far, and didn’t now. She just watched her former best friends argue and clenched Duke’s collar.
“How long did you all know Heather?” the chief asked, looking down at his notes.
“Since high school. We already told you that.” Reagan was clearly out of patience. “We did everything together. Theater, cheerleading, volleyball―”
“Track?” Leander asked.
“Yes,” she answered, giving him a strange look.
The chief pushed a photo across the table. “Please identify yourselves in this picture.”
Zoe leaned forward. “That’s Heather there. Then Reagan, Lacy, and me.”
“What did you do on the track team?”
“Run, obviously,” Lacy said. She pressed her face to Tink’s fur and the little dog let out a surprisingly loud growl.
Chica hadn’t moved since they’d sat down, but now her nose moved forward several inches, as if she wanted more than anything to nip the little Pomeranian.
“Heather did the long jump, Zoe ran hurdles, and I was on the relay team.” Reagan brushed back her hair. “We went to state.”
“And you?” he said, pointing to Lacy.
There was a brief pause, and she signed, “Javelin.”
“Any good?”
She swallowed hard. “Placed high enough in the Olympic trials during college, but… ended up not going.”
Kitty met Leander’s gaze. Then the photo she’d seen was true. Amazing what a girl could find on Google. Lacy, who had made herself into a plastic replica of Heather, was a talented athlete. And an Olympic-level javelin thrower had the strength and the accuracy to throw a butcher knife twenty feet. It was probably a breeze, compared to the javelin. It also explained how she could out-sprint Leander with only a few seconds head start.
The chief spent a few moments writing in his notes, then turned to Zoe, changing tactics. “Your dog. Does he get along well with others?”
Zoe looked petrified and Kitty had a flash of remorse. Maybe their plan wasn’t a good one after all. It could all backfire.
“Of course. He’s a trained service dog.”
“He never fights with other dogs?”
Leander cleared his throat. “I thought I saw something happen at dinner the other night. Between Duke and Tink.”
Zoe’s face went bright red. “He didn’t do anything. Tink was harassing him like she always does. He didn’t even look at her. I don’t know why you’re asking me these questions. I don’t have anything to do with any of this. Me or Duke. We’re innocent.” She turned and pointed at Lacy. Her hand was shaking. “That dog is going to bite someone. You’ll see.”
“Shut up,” Lacy signed fiercely. “You have no idea what Tink is like.”
“I think it’s clear to everyone what Tink is like,” Leander muttered.
When Kitty translated, Lacy fairly choked with rage. “Before Heather stole her she was a good girl. She never growled or bit anyone. And then suddenly Heather decided she wanted her, and Tink changed. But I know that everything will be okay now. Heather can’t hurt her anymore.”
The chief pushed another picture across the table. It was the one from the magazine that Ralph and Judy had seen. The one that first made Kitty wonder about Tink’s role in Heather’s death.
Lacy glanced at it and looked away. “She was mine. Heather had no right to take her.” As if unable to resist, her gaze was pulled back to the photo. Four friends seated on a fancy divan, all posing in variously leggy positions with matching expressions of disinterest. And there, on Lacy’s lap, was Tink. The little dog looked happy.
“It’s true,” Reagan said. “Heather always took what wasn’t hers and then acted like we were crazy to want it back.”
Zoe seemed to have an idea where the questions were going now and her eyes had gone round with horror. She shrank away from Lacy, slipping an arm around Duke’s neck and holding him close.
“When was this taken?” Kitty asked.
“When she announced her engagement,” Lacy said. “First she said she wanted her for the wedding. You know, to carry the rings down the aisle or something. Then she just… took her.”
“You could have just asked for her back,” Kitty said, hoping she hadn’t overstepped. Her instincts told her that they’d brought Lacy as far as they could, and now it was time for her to explain herself. Lacy didn’t know they had no real proof. Just photos and hunches and Chica’s tendency to watch one of their group like a hawk.
“I did! I asked and asked. She said it would have to be over her dead body.” Lacy started to cry. “What would you do if someone took your dog?”
“Call the police? Go to court?” Kitty offered. She knew what Lacy must have felt, but murder never solved anything.
“Nobody would listen. Her family is too powerful.” Lacy lifted her chin. “Heather taught me one thing, and it was that money talks. She was right. I could get anything I wanted with money. I could even get Tink back.”
“And you tried to kill me because you thought I was going to take Tink away from you again,” Kitty said. She tried her best to look professional as she confronted Lacy, but inside she was shaking with anger and disbelief. She loved Chica more than any other being in the world. She understood the bond between a dog and her person. But Lacy had sullied that bond, and now Tink was bound to be given away, yet again.
Lacy looked defeated. “You should have just drunk the margarita. Why didn’t you?”
“Because Chica knew you’d put something in it.”
She smiled, and it was unnerving to see anything other than anger on her face. “She’s a good dog.”
“The best,” Kitty said.
Leander nodded to the chief, and stepped forward. “Lacy Williams, I’m advising you of your rights as an American citizen who is about to be charged with a crime in a foreign country.”
She turned her face away as Kitty started to translate.
“I only wanted what was best for Tink.” Lacy hugged the little dog close, and buried her face in her fur.
Chica slowly relaxed as the chief and his officers took Lacy into custody. Kitty wondered how deeply her dog would sleep tonight, now that the murderer was in custody. She knew that the last twenty four hours had been some of the most exhausting, and interesting, of her life.
“Time to go, gi
rl.” Kitty rubbed Chica’s ears. There was the simple matter of getting everybody back on the boat before it left that evening, and then it would all be over.
As Leander escorted Lacy away, he glanced back for a moment, catching Kitty’s eye. He smiled and she nodded back.
She tried not to acknowledge the sudden surge of anxiety as Leander disappeared. He’d tracked her down last time to say goodbye. There was no reason to believe he wouldn’t do the same this time but once burned and all that. She wondered if she’d ever stop expecting people to leave her without saying goodbye.
Epilogue
Kitty waited at the end of the dock and tried not to check her watch. Leander had said he would be there at three and it was ten minutes past. It wasn’t the end of the world. He was a busy man, with a lot of responsibilities. She cringed inwardly as she remembered another time in her life when she’d made excuses for someone who had always been late.
Glancing back at the dock stretching far out to see where the ship had been anchored, Kitty briefly considered walking back without seeing Leander. He could just as easily walk back up to the ship and get his own bag. Or have it delivered. She didn’t need to be his errand girl.
“What do you think, Chica? Is he coming?”
Chica’s answer was to sit unmoving, her eyes fixed on the shore a few feet away. Kitty glanced around at the dock. The brilliant turquoise water stretched as far as she could see.
Kitty sighed. And then she saw him pull up in the familiar black embassy vehicle. He jumped out and waved, jogging over to where they stood.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Thank you for waiting.”
“Not a problem.” She held out his bag. “Thanks for all your help.”
He took his overnight bag and seemed to pause at the formality in her voice. “Can I walk you back to the boat?”
“Sure,” she said, and waited while he dropped his bag in the car. A moment later he was back.
“I meant to ask you if maybe… I never got the chance to…” He winced and looked out at the ocean. The dock was several hundred feet long. They had plenty of time for him to get to the point.
Part of Kitty found it adorable that Leander, handsome and intelligent, had trouble saying what was on his mind, but the rest of her was casting an internal, jaundiced eye over his stumbling. A long time ago, she’d routinely jumped in to finish a sentence, eager to ease the way and arrive at a romantic reconciliation in a timely manner. But then the time had come when she had realized that the bumbling, fractured sentences were simply a ruse. Her fiancé had never really said many of the things she’d thought he’d said. Implied, but never stated, and therefore, it was all her own fault that she’d had her heart broken.
She waited silently, the only sound around them was the lapping of the water and their footsteps on the wooden boards.
“Do you e-mail? Or text?” he asked.
“Yes.” She knew she wasn’t making it particularly easy for him, but asking a woman for her number so she could text wasn’t exactly a clear statement of romantic intent.
He cleared his throat. “I think I’ve started in the wrong place.” Pulling out a small envelope that had Chica’s name on it, he said, “It’s just something small. But I thought she needed some recognition for her role in catching the killer.”
“Oh.” Well, a girl wouldn’t refuse a present for her dog. That was always a safe bet. She took the envelope and opened it, shaking a small silver dog tag into her palm.
It was a swift in flight, wings outstretched. Turning it over, she saw it had been inscribed.
To Chica, Honorary attaché to the American Embassy.
Kitty was pretty sure her insides had dissolved at the sight of Chica’s gift. “I don’t really like to text, but I can. And E-mail. And I write letters. Of course, I’ll need your address.”
He pulled a card from his wallet and wrote his number on the back. “I should have given you one when we met, but I thought…”
“I know.” She had thought there was no chance she would see him again. And here they were. They walked for a little while in silence and then she said, “I’ll ask you a hundred and one questions, so be prepared.”
She’d meant it as a joke, mostly, but he didn’t laugh. “Anything you want. I’m not the mysterious type, really.”
“Mm-hmmm.” She’d known cats that were more forthcoming.
“It is the easiest thing in the world for a man to look as if he had a great secret in him,” he said, quoting Melville again. “I hope you get to finish re-reading your book.”
“I’m sure I will,” Kitty said. She hoped her face was fixed in something like a normal expression, because on the inside she was swooning. She couldn’t decide whether his quote, or the gift for Chica, was more endearing.
When they reached the gangplank, he knelt down to attach the tag to Chica’s collar. “Chica, please don’t bite my face off.”
“No chance. She’s the polite one in our partnership.”
“But you might?”
Kitty smiled. “You never know.”
He stood up and glanced at the boat behind her. “Someday it would be fun to just…”
Kitty opened her mouth to finish his sentence, but caught herself. Don’t rush in. Let him speak.
“…spend time with you without it being a situation of life and death.”
“It would. We could play some Bingo.” As he started to smile, she remembered his amusement at her victory dance. “Or maybe someday we can just have some xocolata calenta and talk.”
He looked genuinely surprised to hear her speak Catalan. “Have you been practicing?”
“Nope. I have a good teacher.” She looked back at the boat. “Well, I should go.”
He nodded, and Kitty could see him debating whether to move forward or not. His shyness was a part of his personality that she hadn’t expected. Part of her wanted to turn and run. God was drawing her back to a place of trust, but her heart felt raw. Trusting Him was taking everything she had. It had been years, but she still wasn’t ready.
Or was she? She was still standing there when he leaned down and softly kissed her cheek.
“Goodbye for now, Kitty.”
“Bye.” She turned and headed up the gangplank, Chica trotting beside her. She felt light-headed but not panicky. Her world wasn’t grinding to a halt because she had feelings for someone.
“Well, Chica, I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing.” Kitty knew Stubb wasn’t the sanest character to be quoting from Moby Dick, but she needed a little of his devil-may-care attitude right then. Sometimes it took courage just to step through a door. Or in her case, back onto a ship.
She reached the deck and glanced behind her. Leander was watching her, and gave an exaggerated wave, both arms in the air, perfect for sending someone off on a sea-faring voyage.
Then he signed, See you later, Swift. Bye, Chica.
Goodbye, Starling.
A hot bath, gourmet meal, and a good night’s sleep awaited, but as she took her last steps onto the boat, Kitty felt a shadow of regret darken the usual anticipation she had at boarding. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted just a little more time with him. Maybe a walk along the bay, or dinner at one of those beachside restaurants that didn’t look like much on the outside, but had incredibly fresh and savory seafood. But it wasn’t meant to be. Not this time.
Kitty looked up to see Penny and Elaine grinning at her from the deck above. She was going to have a lot of questions to answer at dinner.
God’s plan was a mystery, the way certain people came into your life, like a message in a bottle washing up right in front of you as you walked along the beach. There you were, minding your own business and not asking the universe for anything at all and… hello.
If you were brave enough and curious enough to stop and pick it up, there was no guarantee that the message would bring joy always and never sorrow.
She supposed that was simply part of th
e gift.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Starling and Swift’s latest cozy murder mystery! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Sometimes people ask me if I kill off characters who are secretly my real-life enemies. I can honestly say I’ve never met anybody as odious as Heather and I hope I never will! What a terrible person… but what an awful way to die. I’m not afraid of heights, but the idea of plunging eight hundred feet into the ocean is not the way I want to go, especially when I’m supposed to be having fun. As far as I know, parasailing is perfectly safe… as long as you haven’t made any enemies wealthy enough to pay for an assassin.
If you liked this book, be sure to leave a review!
Blessings,
Mary Jane Hathaway
Curious how Starling and Swift came to be? Start with the first book, Murder at the Mayan Temple, free!
Have you read the second book, Death on the Wind? You can find it here.
Book Three, Danger at the Dive Shop is a deep sea game of cat and mouse.
If you’re like Kitty and have always wanted to explore Old Town Havana, don’t miss the Fourth Book, Chaos in Cuba.
Book Five, Sabotage on Solitude Bay, is a special edition Christmas mystery set at Leander’s family home in the Florida Keys.
Book Six takes you on a Catalan adventure that ends in a shocking twist: A Scandal in Spain.
Prepare for an ice cold killer in Book Seven, Nightmare Under the Northern Lights.
Big changes―and mortal danger―are in store for Starling and Swift in Book Eight, Terror at the Turtle Sanctuary.
BIOGRAPHY
Mary Jane Hathaway lives with her husband and six homeschooled children in a small Oregon town. This is her first cozy mystery series. Contrary to popular belief, the best part of writing a mystery is not thinking up gruesome ways to murder people― but if you irritate an author, don’t be surprised if you find yourself with a ceremonial knife in your literary heart. You can avoid this fate by delivering copious amounts of coffee, chocolate, and raspberry sorbet.
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