Girl Under Water: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping crime thriller

by L. T. Vargus

  Wesley stared at Dara for a moment before shooting Brandon a meaningful look.

  “Don’t look at me. I told Marjory what you told me. That was my job.”

  “See, this is why I never liked this telephone game. Things always get lost in translation.”

  “What things?” Dara asked, but now the two men were looking at Marjory.

  “Marjie,” Brandon said. “What did you tell Jude?”

  With an irritated roll of her eyes, Marjory scoffed.

  “I told him exactly what you told me.”

  As if on cue, the front door slammed shut. Jude strode in a moment later, face angled down at his phone. When he finally glanced up, it was to find everyone in the room staring at him.

  “What?”

  Wesley’s jaw clenched.

  “You were supposed to call Dara and pass on the news about Gloria.”

  “I did.”

  “No, Jude. You told her Gloria had been in a car accident.”

  “Yeah?” Jude said, as if he didn’t spot the problem.

  “Do I really need to explain the difference between a car accident and a hit-and-run to you?”

  “It’s been absolutely insane at the office this week, alright? I didn’t have time to lay out every little detail.” Jude scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I got the point across, didn’t I? Dead is dead.”

  “Goddamn it, Jude!” Wesley vaulted to his feet, his hands balled into fists.

  Jude sputtered out a laugh.

  “What are you gonna do, Wes? Smack me around like you did when we were kids?” Jude tucked his phone into his back pocket and got into a fighting stance. “Try it, fuckface. See what it gets you.”

  Wesley sneered.

  “Obviously someone should have kicked your ass a little harder. Maybe then you would have grown up.”

  Brandon stepped in between them, extending his hands like a boxing referee.

  “Will you two cut it out? You’re making this worse.”

  There was an ear-piercing shriek, and the entire room went silent. Dara trembled slightly where she stood next to the sofa, her neck and face splotched pink from the effort of screaming.

  “Finally, a reaction,” Allie said.

  “None of this matters. Dad’s dead. And now Gloria. And you’re all fighting about stupid, meaningless things!” Dara looked at Wesley. “You said something earlier. About what happened to Gloria being connected to Dad.”

  “I was just talking,” Wesley said. “Look, I’m sure that what happened to Gloria really was an accident—”

  Charlie cut Wesley off, sensing her moment to strike.

  “It wasn’t an accident,” she said, getting to her feet. “And there’s a very good chance that whoever killed your father is the same person who murdered Gloria tonight.”

  Wesley was the first to speak, his voice artificially high and shrill.

  “But why?”

  “I think she had found something,” Charlie said. “Some piece of evidence that might have implicated the murderer.”

  “What was it?” Wesley demanded.

  “I don’t know.” Charlie shrugged. “Whatever it was, she wanted to discuss it in person. That’s why she came to my office. But before she had a chance to tell me anything…”

  She trailed off. Saying all of it out loud made it somehow more real. The full gravity of the situation hit her all at once. Gloria was dead because she’d discovered something too big. Too damning. And the fact that she’d never be able to pass on that information meant the killer was several steps ahead of Charlie.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Who could that be?” Wesley asked at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Seconds later, Marjory’s assistant appeared on the threshold of the solarium.

  “Killian?” Marjory stepped forward.

  “What’s Marjory’s whipping boy doing here?” Jude muttered.

  Killian hurried to Marjory’s side.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” he said, embracing her. “It’s just awful. Are you alright?”

  Marjory started to answer, but Wesley cleared his throat and interrupted.

  “I’m sorry, but this is sort of a private family gathering.”

  “Oh, mind your own business, Wes,” Marjory snapped.

  “No, he’s right,” Killian said, running his fingers through his white-blond hair. “I only wanted to pay my respects and check in on you. I won’t stay.”

  He stepped away from Marjory, but she grabbed his wrist and tugged him back.

  “Why does Killian have to leave, but she gets to stay?” Marjory said, gesturing with her chin toward Charlie. “She’s not family.”

  “I asked her to come,” Brandon said.

  Marjory crossed her arms.

  “And I’m asking Killian to stay.”

  “Do whatever you want,” Brandon said, his shoulder quirking into a shrug. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Yours is not the only opinion that matters, Brandon,” Wesley said. “I think—”

  “No, no, no!” Dara clutched her head with both hands. “You’re already back to arguing, and we still haven’t decided what we’re going to do about Gloria.”

  Wesley nodded solemnly.

  “Dara’s right. Obviously we have to arrange a funeral.”

  “I’m not talking about a funeral!” Dara’s eyes filled with tears. “Someone killed her. And Daddy. We have to do something.”

  “What could we possibly do?” Marjory blinked. “That’s for the authorities to handle.”

  Charlie stepped forward. Gloria had signed a contract and paid upfront for a week of her services. Charlie intended to see this investigation through, but she needed the family on her side. Without their consent, she’d have trouble digging any deeper than she already had. She’d been waiting for the right moment to make her proposal, and this seemed like her best shot.

  “There is something you can all do, actually,” she said.

  The bickering halted. Six faces turned her way.

  “Gloria hired me, and even though she’s no longer with us, I plan to continue my investigation. It would be easier for me if I have your approval.”

  Marjory scoffed.

  “I told Gloria from the beginning that this whole thing should be left to the police. But as usual, she insisted on doing things her way. She always had to be in charge, even in this. And now look at what’s happened! She’s dead. And for what? Have you found anything? A single shred of evidence?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Then give me one good reason why I should agree to let you continue your nosing around in our affairs.”

  Charlie shrugged and kept her tone placid.

  “I assume anyone who isn’t the murderer would want to find out the truth.”

  “Excuse me?” Marjory planted her fists on her hips. “How dare you suggest—”

  Brandon interrupted, hooking a hand around Marjory’s bicep.

  “Marjie, please calm down.”

  “You calm down,” she said, shaking him off. “I will not have some… professional busybody accuse me of murder in my family home.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m simply asking for your cooperation going forward.”

  “Of course we’ll comply,” Wesley said.

  Marjory’s mouth pinched into a tight knot of fury.

  “You don’t speak for all of us, Wesley. I agree to nothing. You can’t compel me to do anything I don’t want to. You’re not the police.”

  “That’s true. But there’s no law saying I can’t run my own investigation parallel to the police. And I feel I owe it to Gloria to see this through.”

  “Oh please. Surely you don’t expect us to believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your own heart?” Marjory spun to face Wesley. “Isn’t it obvious what she’s doing? This is a ploy to squeeze more money from us to keep the investigation going.”

  “Actually,” Charlie cut in, “Gloria agreed to pay
in advance on a weekly basis, so the rest of this week is already paid for.”

  “There, I think that settles that,” Wesley said.

  “It doesn’t settle anything!”

  Wesley rubbed his forehead.

  “Marjory, please.”

  “No, I agree with Marjory,” Jude piped up. “This doesn’t seem right, having an outsider here making these suggestions.”

  Dara waved a hand in the air.

  “What is it, Dara?” Brandon asked.

  “I think we should take a vote,” she said, licking her lips. “That’s what Gloria always did when we couldn’t agree on things.”

  Wesley nodded.

  “Dara has the right idea. Let’s vote on it.”

  Marjory rolled her eyes but said, “All in favor of ending this charade here and now?”

  She and Jude raised their hands. Killian, eyes on Marjory, put his hand up as well.

  “Oh, for crying out loud. You don’t get a vote, Killian,” Wesley said. “All in favor of giving full cooperation to Ms. Winters while she continues her investigation?”

  It was Wesley and Dara for.

  “Brandon, you didn’t vote,” Dara said.

  “I’m thinking.” Brandon glanced at Charlie and then back at the group. “I understand Marjory’s concerns. Dad was always a fanatic about privacy, and it does feel a bit wrong to let an outsider poke around in the family interests. Then again, I think it’s important that we know the truth, no matter how ugly or uncomfortable. I’m voting that we cooperate with the investigation.”

  “That’s it then. We have a majority,” Wesley said, turning to Charlie. “We agree to comply with any request you might have, within reason. And I should like to be clear, this doesn’t mean we’re hiring you independently of what Gloria already paid for. I imagine the rest of the week should be more than sufficient to wrap things up.”

  Charlie knew she’d won by a nose—Brandon’s nose to be precise—so even though the reality was that investigations like this took as long as they took, there was no point in saying so now. Wesley’s tone made it clear that this wasn’t a negotiation. If she dug up something useful, maybe it would buy her more time down the road.

  “Thank you,” she said with a nod. “Since I have you all here right now, can I ask where you were today around 4:45 p.m.?”

  Dara answered first, which surprised Charlie since up until now, she’d been the least forthcoming of the group out of sheer shyness.

  “I was here, tending the horses. Esther got a really bad cracked hoof last summer. Now that it’s starting to warm up again, I’ve been trying to come every day to apply hoof dressing so it doesn’t happen again.”

  Charlie jotted this down.

  “And was anyone else here? Any of the staff?”

  “No,” Dara said, staring at the floor. “But I passed one of the neighbors on the road as I drove in.”

  “Do you know which one?”

  “One of the Tamblins, I think,” Dara said. “Ronald or Lynette. I’m not sure which one of them it was. Everyone was driving around with their headlights on because of the storm, so it made it impossible to see who was inside the car. But it looked like their Mercedes.”

  Brandon was the next to offer up his alibi.

  “I was in Northville. I had plans to watch a race at the Downs.”

  “Were you with anyone?” Charlie asked.

  “I was meeting up with friends at the track.”

  “So they can vouch for you?”

  “They can vouch that we had plans,” Brandon said. “But I didn’t actually make it inside. Wes called and told me what happened, and I obviously came back here immediately.”

  Charlie got the names and numbers of the friends he’d been meeting anyway.

  “If you can think of a way to corroborate that… a receipt from a gas station on the way, or something, it’d be helpful,” Charlie said.

  “I’ll see what I can come up with,” he said.

  Wesley sighed loudly.

  “I was at home,” he said. “And before you ask, I was alone. My trainer was supposed to come at four, but I canceled the appointment. I wasn’t in the mood. But after puttering around the house for a few hours, I got restless. Decided I’d be better off getting some exercise after all, so I took the kayak out. It’s possible someone saw me. There were other people on the lake. Two guys on a fishing boat and a gal on a jet ski, but no one I know. I received the call about Gloria just as I was pulling the kayak out of the water.”

  “Do you have a security system or a doorbell camera that might have a record of you leaving the house after getting the call?”

  “There are door and window alarms, but it’s a fairly rudimentary system. No cameras or anything like that.”

  Charlie thanked him and moved on to Marjory.

  “Well, I was in the car from about 3:30 p.m. until I arrived here. My friend Shay was with me the entire time. I suppose you want her phone number?”

  “Yes, please.”

  After taking the number down, she finished with Jude.

  “I was with a client all afternoon.”

  “The same client you were having dinner with this evening?”

  “That’s right,” he said with a nod. “Terrance Ferguson. He’s the station manager for WJAZ in Detroit. We’re doing a big campaign for the jazz festival this summer.”

  It sounded more like a brag than an alibi, but Charlie wrote down the details without comment.

  “Do you need my alibi, too?” Killian asked.

  “Uh… sure,” Charlie said, though she hadn’t been planning on asking him. There wasn’t much for Marjory’s assistant to gain from either Dutch or Gloria being dead, but it didn’t hurt to have his information, too.

  “Well, Marjory sent me to run a few errands, and then I stopped by the office to stuff envelopes for the fundraising drive. The security guard at the front desk would have seen me coming and going.”

  “And do you remember what time any of that was?”

  Killian’s nearly invisible eyebrows scrunched together.

  “Let’s see. I think I probably got to the office around four, and then I lost track of time and didn’t end up leaving until almost six.”

  “Are we done?” Marjory asked when Charlie returned her notepad to her bag. “Or did you have some more invasive questions to ask us while we’re grieving?”

  “Marjory, for God’s sake—” Wesley started, but Charlie interrupted.

  “No, she’s right. I appreciate the time you’ve given me, but you need space to process all of this. Individually, and as a family.” She lifted her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  Charlie walked herself out, her lone footsteps echoing in the cavernous front entryway. She glanced up the stairway at the credenza that held a single vase where once there had been two.

  Outside, her eyes scanned all of the vehicles parked in the driveway, trying to see if any of them matched the sleek red sports car that had hit Gloria. None of them did.

  As she reached the front of her car, she heard the telltale sound of the house’s thick oak door unlatch behind her.

  “Ms. Winters… Charlie. Wait.”

  It was Brandon. He hustled down the steps and came around to where she was standing beside her car.

  “The rest of my family might not understand exactly what you went through today. That you had to watch Gloria die. But I do.” He squinted, studying her face. “I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

  Again she recalled the sound of the revving engine, the hiss of the tires on the wet street, the reinforced steel of a car’s front end colliding with flesh and bone.

  Charlie closed her eyes.

  “Honestly? I’m not OK. I don’t think anyone could be after seeing something that horrific.” She opened her eyes and jangled her keys in her palm. “But I’ll survive.”

  “You’re a tough lady. Under different circumstances…” He cocked his head to one side. “
You know what? Screw different circumstances. Do you want to go get a drink?”

  “Now?”

  “Sure,” Brandon said. “Why not?”

  It was an appealing offer, the notion of attempting to erase the events of the day with alcohol. And Brandon was sure to be an entertaining drinking partner. But Charlie knew it was a bad idea, if only from a professional standpoint.

  Glancing back at the house, Charlie noticed that Marjory was watching them from a window overlooking the driveway. Probably to make sure that Charlie left and didn’t hang around to spy on them from the bushes or something.

  “I think they’re expecting you back inside,” Charlie said, gesturing with her chin toward the window. “As for me, I’m going to head home and sleep for a solid fourteen hours.”

  Brandon turned and waved at Marjory, who stepped back from the window, though Charlie doubted she’d given up her watch. He sighed and thrust his hands in his pockets.

  “I hope you won’t take some of what was said tonight personally. Marjory doesn’t handle this kind of thing very well. The story Wesley told earlier, about Marjory dressing up in Gloria’s clothes when we were kids? That was just the tip of the iceberg. She idolized Gloria growing up.” He shrugged. “As for Jude… well, he’s just kind of a prick.”

  Charlie couldn’t stop a chuckle escaping her lips.

  “Anyway, if either of them gives you any trouble, you can call me, and I’ll set them straight.”

  “Good to know,” Charlie said, climbing into her car.

  As she took the turn onto the road at the end of the long drive, Allie spoke up.

  “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

  Charlie tried to ignore her.

  “I think you should have gone for that drink.”

  “And I think you should mind your own business.”

  “You’re no fun,” Allie whined.

  Charlie said nothing. She was already envisioning the sweet sensation of her head hitting her pillow, and nothing Allie could say was going to change her mind.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was late in the morning when Charlie finally dragged herself out of bed the next day. After dressing and forcing down a piece of toast, she lumbered down to the office.

  Charlie let herself in via the back door and went through the motions of opening the office: turning on the lights, opening the blinds, unlocking the front door. Since Paige was only working part-time, on days like today she only came into the office in the afternoon, which meant Charlie would be on her own for the next few hours.