2 The Witch Who Saw a Star

by Emma Belmont

  At Slick’s request, and to honor her aunt’s wishes as well, she’d never told anyone what the elderly fisherman had confided to her: that he and her aunt had been in a secret relationship. It had charmed her that they’d had each other, and it had also comforted her to have someone else that she could grieve with. Mac knew that the elderly fisherman held a special place in her heart, and he’d simply left it at that.

  “Slick called me this morning and asked for my help.”

  A corner of Mac’s mouth crooked up. “That was smart of him.” He motioned for her to precede him up the gangway. “We need to let the coroner do his work.” Up at the pier again, Slick had fallen into conversation with one of the men fishing from the other side of the pier.

  “How much has he told you?” Mac asked. “I don’t suppose he confessed to you that he killed that yacht captain.”

  For a moment she thought of Slick’s tale of nearly being run over, and decided that could wait for another time.

  “Really, he’s told me very little,” she said. “Only that he saw the flare gun first, assumed it was his, and picked it up so he could put it away. Then he saw the body.”

  “Captain Gregory Hazelwood,” Mac said. “Now he’s ‘ferried o’er death’s dark stream’.”

  “Burns?” Maris asked, knowing Mac’s penchant for the Scottish poet.

  The sheriff nodded. “He certainly saw his share of death—and then some.” He took a notepad from his breast pocket. “I don’t have much at this point either.” He flipped through a few pages. “The Copernicus arrived yesterday and berthed at the pier before the guests left to visit Pixie Point Bay. A few of the crew went out to eat, and one went shopping.” He closed the notepad and looked over at the enormous yacht. “I want to solve this one quickly, before the paparazzi land on our doorstep.”

  The paparazzi? “Who are the guests? Anyone I might have heard of?”

  He nodded. “Fritz Falschung, the director, was on board.” Maris’s eyebrows flew up as she regarded the luxury boat in a new light. “Kaitlyn Cameron, she’s an actress. I don’t recognize her name. There’s also a cinematographer, and I have yet to question any of them.”

  Though Maris’s hospitality career and the constant moves hadn’t left her much free time, she’d certainly heard of the director, and had actually seen a movie with the actress.

  “I’ll recognize both Falschung and Kaitlyn. She’s beautiful.”

  Mac shrugged, and Maris wondered what Mac did look for in a woman. Obviously not young, thin, and pretty.

  “Who else was on the yacht?” she asked, gazing at it. The vessel was easily three times the length of Slick’s fishing boat. “It doesn’t navigate itself—or maybe it does. I wouldn’t be too sure these days.”

  Mac chuckled. “I hear you, but there are five crewmen, not including the captain.”

  There was a rustling sound from Seas the Day. The coroner was covering the body with what looked like a sheet of white plastic.

  “What about the murder weapon?” Maris asked. “A flare gun?”

  “Yes,” Mac acknowledged. “That’s a new one for me—thankfully. Turns out it’s a pretty grim way to go. He was shot in the back with a flare sometime between yesterday evening, when the yacht arrived, and this morning when the body was spotted—with Slick standing over it.”

  Maris opened her mouth to ask another question, but she was interrupted by the sound of someone calling her name. The voice startled Maris, because she didn’t associate it with Pixie Point Bay or her life here at all. In fact, the voice reminded her of late-night pizza sessions and last minute event planning.

  Nadia Malakin stood on the yacht’s gangway, wearing a uniform that suggested she worked on the magnificent vessel.

  “It is you!” Nadia said, walking down to the platform. “At first, I was sure that I was dreaming. Maris Seaver couldn’t possibly be here, in this little town of Pixie Point Bay, but it is you.”

  “Nadia?” Maris said and headed in her direction. They met at the bottom of the gangway and hugged. “What in the world?”

  “What in the small world, I’d say,” Nadia said drawing back with a smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Maris let her go, grinning back at her. “And you as well.”

  Apparently life at sea agreed with Maris’s former colleague. In her early thirties, slim, with sleek black hair, she was the picture of poise. The smooth, light brown skin of her oval face framed large dark eyes. As she gazed at her, Maris’s mind rushed back to those days in the hospitality world, where the pace was grueling and the pressure had been unbearable. She and Nadia could probably spend hours swapping stories, but now was not the time.

  “What are you doing here?” Maris asked, though part of the answer was apparent.

  “I’m the purser and chief steward of the Copernicus,” she explained simply. Seeing Maris’s look of puzzlement, she added, “I basically run the show, except for driving it. I report—or reported—to the captain.” She couldn’t help but glance at Slick’s boat.

  “May I introduce the Medio County sheriff?” Maris said. “Nadia Malakin, this is Sheriff Daniel McKenna. Sheriff, this is a former colleague of mine.”

  “So I gathered,” Mac said, extending his hand, which she shook. “A pleasure.”

  “Good to meet you,” she said, her smile as dazzling as ever.

  The last time Maris had seen Nadia, she was managing a trendy and upscale hotel in San Francisco. “How did you end up in boating?”

  “Mr. Falschung stayed at the hotel in San Francisco that I was managing. His reservation was a disaster and I took care of it. He offered me twice the salary I was making at the hotel.”

  “And you left the industry,” Maris concluded. That had to have been a no-brainer.

  Their attention was drawn to a metallic rattling on the gangway that led from Slick’s boat. The coroner and his team were wheeling away the gurney that held the body of Nadia’s former boss.

  4

  The removal of Captain Hazelwood’s body put a damper on the reunion. Nadia pointedly looked away from the stretcher and out to the ocean. Though the sheriff watched the coroner and his team, he seemed lost in his thoughts. It was finally Slick, returned from his conversation across the pier, who broke the silence.

  “When can I have my boat back?” the old fisherman asked the sheriff.

  “It’s all clear,” Mac said with a nod. “Forensics has gone over everything.”

  Slick beamed at him. “My thanks, Sheriff.”

  He’d been about to hurry off, when Mac said, “But I’d like you to stay in port.” Slick stopped and turned to stare at him. “I’ll be asking the same of the Copernicus.” Mac leveled his gaze at the old mariner. “It’s standard operating procedure.”

  Though Maris knew that Slick was hardly a flight risk, she also knew that the sheriff couldn’t appear to be playing favorites.

  “We’ll try to be quick,” Maris said. She glanced at Nadia. “For everyone’s sake.”

  Though Slick nodded before he turned to go, there was distinctly less spring to his step.

  Nadia said, “It would seem we have some time in port.” Then she put on a smile and added, “Would you like a tour of the yacht? I’d be happy to show you around.”

  Maris smiled as well. This was the Nadia she remembered—efficient and also gracious. “I think that would be lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Mac said, “and I’d like to see the owner.”

  “Of course,” Nadia said, easily. “Mr. Falschung should be on-board.”

  As they approached the yacht, Maris was struck again by how big it was. She looked down the sleek black hull which supported an equally sleek white upper deck. The ship seemed to go on forever.

  “It’s one-hundred and eighty feet long,” Nadia said, in answer to Maris’s unasked question.

  Mac gave a low whistle. “More than half a football field.”

  Maris recalled what little she’d seen of American football.
Her eyebrows raised as she pictured the yacht down on the playing field. It truly was immense.

  Fritz Falschung had directed some of the top-grossing films of all-time. The tabloids were full of stories about his opulent lifestyle, lavish parties, and playboy life. But now, seeing the Copernicus, Maris understood just how much money might actually be involved.

  As they made their way to the boat, Maris saw two figures watching them from the deck. The first she recognized as Kaitlyn Cameron, the actress. Up close, Maris was shocked to see that she was a wisp of a young woman—petite and slim with bright blue eyes and perfectly coiffed shoulder length blonde hair.

  The man standing next to her was not an actor. Bespectacled and overweight, his short, mostly gray hair was spiked up in the front, in an attempt to be stylish. He wore an old tweed jacket with patches over the elbows that made him look vaguely scholarly. But a teacher or professor would not be running with this crowd.

  Nadia made the introductions. “Kaitlyn Cameron and Alan Hecht,” she said gesturing to them. “May I introduce Sheriff McKenna and Maris Seaver––an old friend of mine.

  “A sheriff?” Kaitlyn asked, extending her hand to him. “Are you investigating the captain’s death?”

  “Yes,” Mac replied, shaking her hand. “I’ll eventually be speaking with everyone on board.”

  Although Mac seemed nonplussed to be meeting an actual Hollywood actress, Maris found herself a little star struck. In person, Kaitlyn was every bit as pretty as on the screen, if not more so.

  “A pleasure,” Kaitlyn said, shaking her hand.

  “Sheriff,” Alan Hecht said, as they shook.

  “Mr. Hecht,” Mac said. “Are you the cinematographer?”

  “I am,” he replied, and also shook Maris’s hand. “Been with Fritz since the beginning.”

  Nadia smiled at the two guests. “Have either of you seen Mr. Falschung?”

  “Not yet today,” Kaitlyn answered.

  “Nope,” Alan said, then looked over his glasses at the pier and bay. “It’s too bad murder-mysteries are out of fashion,” he said. “This would be a great setting for a film.”

  “I’m going to help the sheriff look for Mr. Falschung,” Nadia said. “If you see him, please let him know that we’re looking for him.”

  Nadia led them down the length of the yacht, to where a sunken conversation pit was surrounded by a blue and white, leather sectional couch. A set of double doors led into another sitting area replete with bookcases and wall-sized television screens

  “The conference room,” Nadia said.

  A video was playing and, in keeping with the yacht’s theme, it appeared to be a drama set at the ocean.

  “The dining room,” she said, as they passed a lavish room with a stunning teak table and chairs, that had matching wood walls covered in carvings of fish and sea animals.

  Though Slick might not have cared for the captain, Maris thought, he’d approve of the decor.

  “Let’s see if he’s below,” Nadia said and motioned to a narrow set of stairs.

  As with the dining room, the steps and walls were all covered in teak that had been buffed to a gleaming polish. The hallways of the next level were decorated with enlarged photographs that could have come from the pages of National Geographic or Condé Nast Traveler. Images of white homes on the island of Mykonos, giant tortoises on the Galapagos, and the seated Egyptian figures at Abu Simbel made Maris wonder if the yacht might have visited all these places.

  But the feature that Maris appreciated the most were the windows. Even on this level they were everywhere: letting in natural light, allowing sweeping ocean vistas, and keeping her from feeling like she was in an enclosed space. As they passed an open guest room, Maris noted that the two twin beds had been made with military corners and not a wrinkle to be seen. She nodded in approval. Nadia was obviously seeing to even the smallest of details.

  Neither she nor Mac has said a word on their mini-tour and search. Maris suspected that he was already in investigation mode, while she was busy calculating the extra staff work that it took to maintain these sorts of accommodations.

  “The fitness center is this way,” Nadia said as she pointed down the hall. “A full set of weights, a Turkish sauna and a jacuzzi for the guests.”

  At just that moment, the door to the fitness center opened and Fritz Falschung stepped out. He wore a plush purple bath robe and carried a towel and a small electronic tablet. Maris recognized him immediately: the piercing blue eyes, graying hair, and the mostly white and very closely trimmed beard. Despite the robe, the director was also wearing a white captain’s hat, set back on his head at a rakish angle.

  “Mr. Falschung,” Nadia said, “may I introduce an old friend of mine from the hotel days, Maris Seaver.”

  The director leaned forward slightly, and quickly smiled. “Pleasure.”

  Despite having met and taken care of her share of celebrities, Maris felt a tremor of nervousness. “Nice to meet you,” she finally said.

  Nadia turned slightly and said, “This is Daniel McKenna. He’s the sheriff for the county, and he’s looking into Captain Hazelwood’s death.”

  As the two men shook hands, Fritz said, “Nice to meet you too. We’re getting the county sheriff and not the town’s? That’s rather impressive.”

  Mac smiled. “Pixie Point Bay doesn’t have its own sheriff, so I do double duty.”

  Falschung nodded thoughtfully. He turned to Maris. “And how long have you known our Nadia?”

  “Seven years, maybe?” Maris said. She couldn’t count the number of events they’d done together. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Maris is a problem-solver from way back,” Nadia said.

  “Indeed,” Falschung said, “you’ll have to tell me about that some time. It sounds fascinating.” But the tone of his voice said that it sounded anything but, and Maris felt her smile become forced.

  “Well,” Nadia said. “I need to see to some duties.”

  But before she could turn to go, Falschung tossed the towel at her feet. “Put this wherever it goes.”

  Maris had to blink at the regal tone and nonchalant rudeness. For a moment, she thought she hadn’t heard right. But when she glanced at Mac who was frowning at the towel on the floor, she knew she’d heard perfectly. Nadia’s pleasant expression remained fixed as she bent and picked up the towel before leaving.

  Although Maris would have liked to arrange a meeting with her, or at least thank her for her time, a distinct chill had settled in the little corridor. Based on what Nadia had said about her salary and position, Maris doubted that picking up towels was part of her duties—which meant the little performance had been for their benefit. The famous director was showing Maris and Mac who was the boss.

  “I have a few questions I’d like to ask,” Mac said.

  “Perfect,” Fritz said, his expression animated. “Like a noir movie—except for that getup of yours.” He gave Mac’s brown and tan sheriff’s uniform a long look, before he said, “Go ahead.”

  Maris saw the muscles at Mac’s jaw working. “The captain of your boat has just died, and yet you’re having a sauna.” He took the notepad from his breast pocket. “Murder happen a lot on your boat?”

  Maris stiffened a little at the antagonistic tone, but, to her surprise, the director laughed.

  “It’s a ship,” he replied, “not a boat.” He eyed them both. “I have a strict sauna routine. Every day, without interruption. It would be a shame if the routine stopped now, and I’m sure Hazelwood wouldn’t have wanted me to pause it on his account.” Falschung’s answer seemed entirely sincere—and completely selfish. Suddenly the handsome playboy was looking distinctly less attractive. “I’ll give you a tour of the ship,” he said, turning to go.

  “Nadia was kind enough to show us the highlights,” Mac said. Maris sensed the sheriff’s growing irritation and guessed he’d rather just ask questions.

  The director stopped and turned. “That’s not her responsib
ility,” he declared, scowling. “She’s paid to count my money, not entertain. I’ll have to speak to her about that. Have you seen the bridge?”

  Mac snapped his notebook closed and was drawing in a breath, when Maris interjected, “No, but we’d love to.”

  “Good,” he said turning away from them. “This way.”

  Maris gave Mac a sympathetic look, and the sheriff grimaced and shook his head.

  Fritz led them back up the stairs to the first deck, and then up another set of stairs to the top of the ship. More gleaming white metal greeted them, but at this level, tinted windows surrounded the single-story structure on all sides.

  More than that, the view was tremendous. Maris had never seen the pier from this vantage point. It was almost like being at the top of the lighthouse. But Fritz hadn’t paused to take in the surroundings. Instead he opened the door on the side of the superstructure.

  As they entered, he grandly gestured around and said, “The wheelhouse.”

  Maris had to make sure her jaw didn’t drop. It was more like the command deck of a space ship than a yacht. Computer screens formed a complete semi-circle at the front, just below the forward facing windows. Various keyboards and controls were at waist level, and two swivel chairs were at either side of the room. Behind everything was the large and elevated captain’s chair, with its own consoles of mini-screens and buttons built into its arms.

  “Wow,” she muttered.

  Fritz smiled as he took a seat in the captain’s chair, cutting a slightly comedic figure in the hat and robe.

  Mac turned to him. “Who would have wanted to see the captain dead?”

  Fritz took off the hat, and set it in his lap. “Let’s be honest here. I feel like I can talk to you two. The captain was a jerk. Nobody liked him, including me. He had served in the Navy, which I respect, but Hazelwood wanted to pretend that we were all in the service with him. We had to address him as Captain, even me. He wouldn’t answer if you called him Gregory.”

  “So he wanted to be addressed by his title,” Mac said, taking a few notes. “Anything else?”