“What did you do?”
“You know how I’m a huge Bebe fan?”
“No, I didn’t know that.” But I was beginning to have a very, very bad feeling about where this was headed.
“Big fan. You might even say her biggest. I never missed an episode, and I even joined her fan club.”
“You joined her fan club?”
“I may have been the, well, the president of the fan club. The Bebeliebers.”
“You were the president of Bebe’s fan club?” Okay, that was a bizarre coincidence. “That’s not incriminating, though. That just means you liked her a lot, right?”
“You’d think so. But, well, you know how on her show, she’s always eating fudge?”
“Yeah, I guess?” I sort of remembered a fight with Tony in a candy shop.
“Oh, yes. Every time she travels, she has to find a place that sells fudge.” Tammi’s face lit up.
“Umm, okay?” An ill omen wriggled its way into my chest.
“So anyway, I thought, if she loves fudge so much, she’d obviously love Great Aunt Cora’s homemade fudge. No harm, right?”
“You sent her homemade fudge?”
“Yes.”
“Aunt Cora’s homemade red velvet fudge?”
“Yessss.” Tammi’s face fell.
“Who sends a perfect stranger homemade food in the mail?” The foreboding feeling dripped down my spine. Maybe my cousin was a psychopath.
“I know! I know! In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest move.” Tammi rubbed a spot on the floor with her big toe. “But that’s not all.”
“It wasn’t enough to send homemade food to a stranger?”
“When I was on my way to the post office to mail it, I saw this stuffed animal in the window of that new toy store in downtown Woodstock, and I swear it looked exactly like her dog Mimsy. And I thought, ‘Oh, wouldn’t Bebe adore this?’”
“You bought it for her?”
“No, I didn’t buy it.”
Phew. “Good.”
“I stole it.”
“Bad. Bad Tammi.” I buried my head in my hands. Then I raised it slowly, realizing where the story was headed. “Oh. Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t … ”
“I stuck it in the box. I was so sure she’d love it. But it was July. And the fudge melted. And … and … ”
“And Bebe opened up a box with a stuffed dog that looked just like hers covered in bloody red goop?”
Oh, this was bad. This was so, so bad. “Are you insane?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. It was gonna be so cute and perfect, and instead it came out sort of like a—”
“A creepy stalker death threat!” This was bad, bad, bad. “Does anyone on board know what you did?”
At this point, her best bet—maybe her only bet—was to throw herself into the arms of the best defense attorney that money could buy.
“Well, that lawyer lady was the one who sent the restraining order thingie, so I guess she knows.”
“Peg Halloway?”
“Yeah, her.”
If Peg knew, then we could assume she’d told Tony and Preston as well, not to mention the crew. Forget my outburst about Tammi’s kleptomania. My cousin had had a “Frame Me” sign stuck to her from the moment she got on board.
“How are you even on the boat with her if she had a restraining order?” I asked.
“I didn’t know she was going to be on this cruise! I didn’t even know I was going to be on this cruise until a few days ago.”
“Yeah, thanks again for not giving me that spoiler.”
“The point is that there’s no way that I could have guessed any of this would’ve happened. All I felt was embarrassed when I found out Bebe was on board. I wanted to apologize to her, but I was afraid to.”
“Did she say anything to you?”
“No! I don’t think she even recognized me. It’s not like I went up and talked to her or anything. I asked to be seated as far away from her as possible at meals. And I skedaddled anytime she came near me. I didn’t steal that necklace. And I certainly didn’t kill her. You have to believe me.”
“I believe you.” Try as I might, I simply couldn’t see Tammi physically hurting anyone, much less murdering them.
Besides, even if she had hated Bebe, my cousin would never have had the brains to plan out some grand scheme to kill her. Switching out that cocktail for poison wasn’t the most sophisticated of crimes, but it had taken some quick thinking. There were sloths that were quicker thinkers than Tammi.
But even though I believed her, things looked grim for my cousin. And she hadn’t given me any info to help me narrow my search for the real killer. At least everyone was sequestered on this one boat. That was a good thing.
Listen to me. Sequestered. I really was getting my Matlock on.
So the real question was who I should question first. Peg seemed like the most logical person. She definitely knew about Tammi’s idiotic doggy death threat, and I’d heard that fight she’d had with Bebe outside my cabin. Whatever Bebe was holding over Peg’s head, she was gleefully gloating about it. That could make anybody snap.
Chapter Seventeen
I spent three hours casually trailing Peg Halloway. I hoped to grab a few minutes alone with her so we could chat, but she was in take-charge mode and had spent every moment on the phone or shouting orders at Silas. She gave instructions about everything from handling press inquiries to what Bebe’s dead body should wear. She even dictated the floral arrangements for a makeshift memorial at sea the next morning.
Following her into the workout room, she hopped right onto the treadmill, which would have been my torture instrument of choice. At least with that, I could have set the pace at snail. Instead, I got on the stair climber. But even with the resistance level kept at greased butter, I began to lose feeling in my head after two minutes.
I wish someone had warned me I would be climbing Mount Freaking Everest in the middle of the Atlantic. Okay, technically not Mount Everest. But, hey, I’d been planning weddings, not training for a marathon.
My plan was to start a conversation with Peg while she was running, but she stuck headphones on and was laser-focused on a book she’d brought along. Not to mention the fact that I was so out-of-breath that my attempts came out as, “Pfffhaaa.”
Peg slowed the speed to a walk. Here was my chance. She removed a locket from her neck that kept jangling, opened the clasp, and stroked the picture lovingly before placing it next to her book. I tried to lean over and see what the photo was of, but I couldn’t catch a good glimpse before she dialed the speed back up to Iron Man. Meanwhile, my lungs were putting up the fight of their life to keep pace with my legs. I sucked in a wheezing gasp of air, ready to give up on my quest.
Her whole machine began shaking like a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle due to her ridiculous running pace. She was surprisingly agile for a woman who had to be pushing seventy.
Agile enough to slip out of the dining room, run over to her room or the spa, grab the nail polish remover, and spike Bebe’s drink with no one noticing? Yup.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, but was in reality more like twenty minutes, Peg hopped off the treadmill and toweled off even though she hadn’t broken a sweat. I tried to act all smooth as I stumbled off the stair climber.
“Oh … hey.” I raised a finger in greeting but then doubled over, hands on knees. “How was your run?”
“Fine,” she said briskly, checking her watch.
She tried to move past me toward the door, but I practically hurled myself into her path.
“I wanted to offer my condolences on the death of your … of Bebe. It must have been quite a shock.”
“That it was.” Peg again attempted to get past me, but I scuttled over and blocked her again.
“Do you have any theories on who might have done it?”
“Who?” Peg cocked her eyebrow. “I understand they have proof against your … your cousin, is
she? From what I’d heard, they’ve gone so far as to lock her up.”
“Well, yes, but I’ve known Tammi my whole life. She isn’t capable of something like this.”
“Mm hmm.” The way that Peg said it, or rather, didn’t say it, I could tell that she remembered Tammi and the doggy death threat perfectly well. “But you yourself had a violent argument with her a day or so ago if my memory serves me correctly. And my memory usually serves me correctly.”
“I’ll be the first to admit Tammi can be impetuous, don’t get me wrong, but she’d never commit murder.”
“Did she tell you about the restraining order that Bebe had against her?”
Ha! Proof that Peg definitely remembered.
“Yes, but that was all a misunderstanding. Shipping red velvet fudge in Georgia in July is about as dumb as it gets, but she didn’t mean any harm, and she certainly didn’t mean it as a death threat. If anything she meant it as a compliment.”
“Perhaps you should become her defense lawyer.” Peg gave me a wry look as she made a serious play to get past me. Not so fast. I’d lost my focus for a minute there. I was here to dig around and see who else might have had reason to kill Bebe, not to defend my cousin.
“Yeah, you might be right,” I said. I put on my most innocent smile. “It’s not like anyone else had reason to hate her.”
Peg blanched and sank back on her heels.
“Certainly not.” She smoothed the hair above her ear. “Everyone adored Bebe.”
“Clearly,” I said, remembering the heated argument Peg had had with Bebe in the hallway right outside my bedroom the very day she was murdered. “And you seemed to love working for her.”
Peg gulped. She pursed her lips and tucked her chin to her neck.
“Bebe and I had our moments,” she said. “My work agreement was a bit … complicated.”
“In what way?”
“I understand that you want to help your cousin by digging around for information, but you’re sniffing around the wrong person. Bebe could be difficult to work for, but I had no reason to wish her dead if that’s what you’re hinting at. She was my employer, but I was the Bosley family attorney first and foremost. We put up with each other. We had to. She couldn’t have fired me even if she wanted to.”
“What do you mean she couldn’t fire you?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but it was a stipulation in Mr. Bosley’s will, a strict clause that she could not dismiss me from service for any reason. He wasn’t blind to Bebe’s faults. She was hot-headed, and he trusted my judgement implicitly. He did it to protect her and me.”
“So she couldn’t fire you? For any reason?” I might not be a lawyer, but that seemed a bit extreme.
“Any reason other than gross negligence. And I’m anything but negligent. Protecting the Bosley family’s business is a job I take seriously.”
Peg pushed past me and was almost out the door when I noticed the locket she’d been enamored with earlier was still on the treadmill. I picked it up to examine the picture.
Peg stalked over and snatched it out of my hand.
“Excuse me,” she said, snapping it shut.
“Sorry. Just picking that up for you.”
“Indeed. I’d hate to hear that the propensity to thievery ran in your family.” With that, she gave a curt nod and strode out.
Hmm. So Bebe couldn’t fire Peg for any reason other than gross negligence. But if Bebe had been able to prove (or at least convince the general public) that Peg was suffering from dementia, it wouldn’t have been a difficult task to jump over to negligence. Bebe had also mentioned something about Peg’s pension when they’d argued. Maybe if she were fired, she’d lose her pension, too. That was a possible motive if I’d ever seen one.
My hike up Mount Everest had given me much to ponder. And a good excuse to go collapse in my room for a nap.
Chapter Eighteen
My hair was a frizzy Brillo pad of tangles when I woke up.
“It’s like a rat’s nest,” I muttered, glimpsing myself in the mirror. In my peripheral vision, a rather guilty-looking Elton hopped off my pillow where my head had just been. “Or a bird’s nest.”
He fluttered to my shoulder and cooed into my ear.
I gave him an affectionate boop on the beak. Time to put on my jaunty Miss Marple hat and investigate some more.
Okay, fine. It felt more like a Scooby Doo collar right now. But the point was, I needed to approach this systematically. I pulled my master wedding planning notebook—the Holy Grail of organization—off the desk and laid it out on my bed. First, I formed a grid of names with means, motive, and opportunity.
After the information I received from Peg about Winston Bosley’s will, I decided to question Preston Bosley next. As far as I could tell, he’d be the most likely one to benefit financially if something happened to Bebe.
Kathunk.
Dang it. The noise had been less noticeable while we were moving, but it had returned louder than ever now that we’d stopped. I’d ask Silas about it the next time I saw him.
There was a knock on the door, and I hopped up to answer it, peeking through the spyhole first. Jenna waited out in the hall, shifting her weight from foot to foot like a flamingo. I opened the door, and she held a plastic sandwich-sized baggie out in front of her.
“Hi, Piper. Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said. “I thought you might need this.”
I took the baggie from her. Sunflower seeds.
“Thanks … I guess?”
“I was, umm, walking past your room earlier, and I heard”—she lowered her voice to a hush—“chirping.”
“Oh.” My cheeks grew warm. Busted. And, to be honest, I hadn’t even thought about what Elton would eat.
Not that he was mine.
“I know that Silas told you about our pet policy, and I took it upon myself to talk to Dr. Jo for you.” Jenna pulled a sheet of paper out of her pocket, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “She wrote a letter stating that you require a therapy animal after the trauma of your broken engagement. So you can keep your bird. I hope that’s okay.”
One side of my mouth quirked up as she handed me the paper.
“That was really sweet of you, Jenna, but I still can’t keep him. I can’t afford the extra fee right now.”
“That’s too bad. I had a pet parakeet as a kid. This one seems like such a nice little guy.”
I don’t know that nice was the word I’d use to describe him, not after the foul-beaked fowl had gone after Tammi by the pool, but Elton had definitely grown on me. Or maybe attacking Tammi was why he had grown on me.
“I’ll give him the snack then leave seeds out for him on the top deck until we dock somewhere and can call an animal rescue.” Although something told me Elton could survive on his own wits no matter where we landed. “Was there anything else?”
“I didn’t know if you needed to get some more clothes for dinner tonight.”
In all the drama, I hadn’t even thought about dressing for dinner. She offered to take me to the cargo hold, and ten minutes later, I was knee-deep in a pile of discarded garments in the bowels of the boat.
The cavernous room was stuffed with every imaginable item you could possibly think of. There was the typical assortment of nautical stuff—a rusty old anchor, rope and twine, rolls of weathered canvas, and vintage buoys. But alongside those were stacks of random things like copper wire, an antique telephone, a huge barrel full of kitschy plastic flamingos, and the biggest bin of sunglasses I’d ever seen.
“Sorry about the mess. And the smell. To be honest, we all avoid coming down here as much as possible,” Jenna said.
“Are you kidding?” I inhaled the musty aroma that reminded me of flea-marketing. “This place is a treasure trove. I would have killed for some of this stuff when I was first starting out planning weddings.”
As soon as I realized what I’d said, I bit my lips. Jenna didn’t seem to notice, though.
&nb
sp; “I wish we had more clothing selection,” she said, rummaging through a pile of unmatched flip-flops. “Not that I wish more people left their stuff on board. It’s a pain in the butt to deal with. But for your sake, I mean.”
“No worries.” I pulled open a giant bin full of—holy moly—nothing but Barbie doll heads. “Well, that’s creepy.”
“Oh, gosh. I know.” She sifted through another bin full of women’s shirts. “And I’m afraid none of the clothing is sized.”
Most were gaudy as all get out, something my great-grandma might have worn, but I found some pieces that would tide me over for a few days.
“Just leave these outside your room, and George will have them cleaned before you wear them. If you need any more clothes, don’t hesitate to ask. Or you can grab something yourself if that’s easier. I leave the key to the cargo hold on a hook behind the lamp at the info desk. ”
“The brass one?” Talk about something my great-grandma would have owned. Gazing around the cargo hold, I sighed. It would be so easy to upcycle that hideous lamp with a few of the items in this room. I could paint the base a cheery shade of teal and give the shade a quick makeover with strips of canvas wrapped around it for a nautical look that wasn’t too in-your-face.
Eloise Morton, one of my cash-strapped early clients, had wanted a simple, chic beach wedding. I’d accomplished that with a heck of a lot less supplies than were in this cargo hold.
Ah, well. I had bigger shrimp to peel.
And more suspects to chase down.
Chapter Nineteen
According to all the murder mysteries I’d read over the years, every murder boiled down to one of three motives.
Either they stood to inherit a giant wad of cash. Or they were seeking revenge. Or hiding a nefarious secret.
Peg had come up a little weak in all three of those categories, but I got the feeling I might have more luck with Preston Bosley.
They didn’t go into nitty-gritty details on Being Bebe, but there had been some ongoing rancor between Preston and Bebe.
Death In A Deck Chair Page 10