Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3)

by Loulou Harrington

  Fisher moved aside, and Hardy exited into the corridor overlooking the staircase. Fisher closed the door behind him.

  “Do you suppose he realizes that whatever he says is going to carry down that staircase and be audible to anyone passing through the foyer?” Vivian asked of no one in particular.

  “I’m sure that thought is the farthest thing from his mind.” Jesse looked at Fisher and beckoned with a crook of her finger. “Come see this,” she invited.

  “We found more stuff.” Vivian put aside the thought of Lawrence Hardy’s overheard conversation to focus on more important things. “Unfortunately, we don’t know what it means or who it was addressed to, but it’s rife with innuendo.”

  Fisher grinned and settled himself on the side of the bed facing the two of them. “Rife with innuendo, huh? Guess I’d better see this.”

  Jesse handed him the laptop and the note to Cece, or about Cece, or just named Cece, opened to the single paragraph. Fisher took it and began to read.

  “Do you know when she wrote this?” he asked after he finished reading it.

  “The date on the file was the same day she flew to Washington. It would have been less than a day after the change in her bequest,” Jesse said.

  He nodded and returned to studying the note.

  “You know something.” Jesse reached over and shook his arm. “I know that look you’ve got on your face. What is it? Hurry before Hardy comes back in here.”

  “Well, I’ve heard Amanda call Celeste by the name Cece. Years ago, when Celeste was just a girl, it was Amanda’s pet name for her. Back when Celeste spent more time hanging around Amanda than with her own mother and before Amanda began to treat her more like an employee and less like a favored child.”

  “What was that about?” Jesse asked. “Why did Amanda do that?”

  “It was her sense of fairness, I think. All Amanda ever said to me was that Celeste wasn’t her child, and as much as she cared for her, it wasn’t fair to Celeste or to the other people she employed to show favoritism to one over another regardless of how she felt personally. I’m sure it hurt Celeste when things changed, but I think it hurt Amanda, too.”

  “I want to know what the desperate lengths are,” Vivian said.

  “Drastic,” Fisher corrected, pointing to the screen in front of him. “Drastic, not desperate, and if this is addressed to Celeste, then perhaps someone should just ask her.” He looked up and smiled at Jesse. “Like you, perhaps. You can ask her about it, and maybe she’ll just confess everything to you.”

  “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, maybe I will.”

  Jesse’s inner adult winced at her childish response, but she had known Fisher too long to be overly worried. He was as much brother as friend, and she would never forget the little blond boy standing apart their first day of school. Her gaze had locked with his, and their souls had recognized each other across the distance as kindred spirits, out of sync and off beat from almost everyone else, but not from each other.

  Before the day was out, the two of them had found Michael Windsor, the rich kid who should have had it easy but was as much an outsider as they were. It was that day they had formed a trio, closer than friends, inseparable and unshakable, until the awful night Michael had died.

  Before Jesse could sink deeper into her memories, the door burst open and Hardy swept in, his face flushed with excitement.

  “They got it!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  He held his phone aloft in a triumphant pose. “It arrived yesterday, and my secretary put it on my desk. She opened it and read it aloud to me. It’s the same document, and it’s signed and notarized. I guess we need to find Gordon Pitts and tell him I won’t be leaving today after all.”

  “I can do that.” Jesse uncurled herself in a flash and scooted past Fisher. “I need some fresh air. Gordon’s probably down by his boat waiting for you.” She slipped into her shoes and headed for the door. “Fisher, maybe you and Vivian can finish looking at those files to make sure there’s nothing else on there. Vivian’s in charge of hiding the thumb drives.”

  “And then I’ll see if I can find any old pictures in Amanda’s room,” Vivian called after Jesse. “You be sure to keep an eye out for Celeste.”

  “Sure thing,” Jesse answered without breaking stride. Hurrying down the staircase and out of the house, she fled into the sunshine and away from the ghosts that chased her. But even in the warmth of the afternoon sun, she could feel a cool breeze circling around her, whispering words she couldn’t understand.

  Starting down the long walk toward the cove where the boat was docked, Jesse slowed down and let her mind go where it wanted to. Immediately, the document they had just uncovered rose to the surface, but it wasn’t the new bequest that pulled at her thoughts.

  Instead, it was the letter where Amanda explained why she had made the changes. It was the note that addressed both the child Celeste had once been and the woman she had become and the bond Amanda felt to both of them.

  Both the letter and the note held the hopeful sound of someone righting wrongs and embarking on a new beginning. Could something in that new beginning have gotten Amanda killed? Could life have been that unfair?

  Vivian was right. Jesse needed to find Celeste and see if the note was indeed written to her. Then Jesse needed to know what misunderstanding required forgiveness and rebuilding the trust Celeste and Amanda had lost. But first, Jesse had to find Gordon.

  ~~~~~

  “I need to go to Orcas now!” the woman’s voice insisted.

  “I can’t,” Gordon answered, just as insistent. “I’ve got to wait here for Mr. Hardy. He’s flying out today. I can get the groceries and bring them back after I get him to the airport.”

  “Good God, man, who cares about groceries? I need to go with you, and I need to go now! Lawrence Hardy can wait.”

  “Nettie, have you gone nuts? You’re not making any sense.”

  “Take me to Orcas now!” she screamed.

  “I’m not taking any crazy woman out onto that water! Not now. Not any time. Do you want to die? This sea is not to be messed with, woman. You’ve lived here your whole life. How many have you seen go out and never return, huh? Now take yourself on back to the house. I’m done arguing with you.”

  As the voices got louder, Jesse hesitated. She could see them now, through the trees, but they couldn’t see her. Whatever was going on, she had the feeling that her arrival wouldn’t improve things.

  “I’m sorry you forced me to this, Gordon. You’re a good man, and I’ve got no quarrel with you. But either you take me, or I’ll figure out how to drive that boat and take myself.”

  “Put that damned thing away, Nettie Shoemacher. Are you crazy?”

  Moving forward again quickly, Jesse could see that Nettie held something in the hand she extended toward Gordon. Doing a quick scan of the ground around her, Jesse spotted a branch about the length of a baseball bat and half as thick. She picked it up, clutched it in both hands and tried a practice swing. It was a little clumsy but not too bad.

  Out of the trees now, she stayed on the sand, avoiding anything that would crack or crunch beneath her feet. The dock was drawing closer, but the instant she stepped onto the connecting ramp, Nettie would feel it. So by then, Jesse would have to be ready to go in swinging and hope nobody got shot, because she was pretty sure the thing in the other woman’s hand was a gun.

  Without moving his head, Gordon cut his eyes toward Jesse and swiftly looked away again. “Come on, Nettie,” he said in soft persuasion. “I don’t know what’s got you so worked up, but it can’t be worth throwing your life away. Give me that gun, and we’ll just forget any of this ever happened. It’ll be our little secret.”

  “How stupid do you think I am, Gordon? Do you really think I’m going to…”

  Jesse bounded up the ramp and onto the dock, running toward Nettie’s back at full speed, or as close to full speed as she could get these days. She watched the woman swivel toward her in
what looked like slow motion. The gun was in plain sight now and turning in Jesse’s direction at what would be sternum height.

  Lifting the branch overhead with both hands, she lunged forward and brought it straight down toward Nettie’s forearm. Trying to avoid the blow, Nettie jerked back, but not quickly enough. The stick cracked down over the top of her arm, breaking in two on impact but not before the blow numbed her fingers enough to send the hand gun spiraling through the air.

  It went flying backward toward Gordon, who stood in the open stern of the boat. The last Jesse saw of him, he was leaping into the air, hand extended toward the gun that was whipping around in circles as it flew overhead.

  Jesse dropped what was left of her branch and launched herself into the air toward Nettie, who scrambled backwards emitting a string of curses as she went. One of her heels caught, and Nettie’s knee began to buckle. She was already halfway down when Jesse landed on top of her and brought both of them crashing onto the dock.

  Though Jesse was taller, the other woman had the weight advantage. Wrapping her arms around Jesse, Nettie rolled to the side away from the boat. Faster than Jesse could catch her breath, they both went over the edge of the dock and into the water.

  The shock of the cold was mind numbing, and for the first instant, Jesse couldn’t move. Her next instinct was to gasp for air, but luckily her mind kicked back in before she could do that. Desperate to reach the surface, she stretched her arms and discovered Nettie was gone.

  Free of the other woman’s dead weight, with muscles beginning to tremble from cold and panic, Jesse gave three strong leg kicks and started upward. As her head broke the water’s surface, she dragged in a lungful of air, then another and another as her panic receded. Treading water, teeth chattering, she looked around and saw Nettie already clambering out of the water at the edge of the shore.

  Once on solid ground, Nettie straightened her bent back, steadied her feet under her and picked up steam. Kicking up sand as she went, she headed for the woods and the footpath that led back to the house.

  Turning her mind to her own survival, Jesse saw the dock a few feet away, out of reach but tantalizingly close. She kicked toward it as the cold sank deeper into her. Her hands were numb, and her thoughts were sluggish by the time she grasped the rough planks that were above her head.

  Jesse saw her fingers curve around the edge of the boards but couldn’t feel the wood she was gripping. She needed to swim for shore while she still had the strength, but just holding on took everything she had left.

  Arguing with herself, she watched from the corner of her eye as Gordon jumped out of the boat onto the dock, set his foot, and aimed the pistol that he must have caught in midair. Jesse looked in the other direction and saw Nettie scrambling along the back edge of the beach, growing smaller with each second but still a big enough target to hit.

  Gordon fired, but the only sound was a hollow click. He squeezed the trigger again, and another click sounded. With a muffled curse, he squeezed again and again, emptying the chambers had there been a bullet in one to fire.

  At the edge of the woods, Nettie stood upright and turned back toward him. “You can quit squeezing the trigger, you damned fool. I wanted you to take me some place. I didn’t want to kill you. I don’t even have bullets for that thing. And you’d better get her out of that water before she drowns.”

  Growing lightheaded from the cold and shock, Jesse watched the other woman turn and disappear into the thick growth of evergreens. She was barely aware when Gordon jumped in and began to swim with her toward the shore.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jesse crawled the last few feet out of the bay on her hands and knees. Clear of the frigid water, she collapsed onto her back on the beach, her breath coming in shallow pants. The sand was warmed from the sun and felt good under her, except for the small rocks that poked the back of her head, her shoulder blade, and her bare heel.

  Bare heel? Jesse raised her head and looked down the length of her exhausted body, still trembling from cold and exhaustion. Her canvas shoes that were her one concession to comfort and a modicum of style were gone. The hot pink polish on her bare toes sparkled back at her.

  “Oh, good grief!” She shoved herself to her feet and felt the world swirl for an instant before she set to work brushing the sand off the back of her wet jeans. The sand particles merely rearranged themselves, smearing on her pants and clinging to her palms and the spaces between her fingers.

  “It’ll fall off once you’re dry,” Gordon said.

  His matter-of-fact words reminded her that he was there and that he had just saved her life. The cold had numbed her so quickly, body and mind, that by the time Gordon jumped in to haul her out, she was beyond helping herself.

  “You just saved my life,” she said, surprised by the tremor in her voice. “If you hadn’t been there, I’d have never made it out on my own.”

  He shrugged. “You never know. Nettie might have come back for you herself if I hadn’t been there.”

  “You really think so?” Jesse was pretty certain he was giving the other woman more credit than she deserved.

  “She’s not a bad woman. I don’t know what bee she’s got in her bonnet to make her do such a damn fool thing.”

  A hard shiver ran up Jesse’s spine, over her shoulders and down her arms. She could feel her jaw clench against the chattering of her teeth. Afraid to speak, she remembered Hardy’s phone call outside the bedroom door that overlooked the main staircase and the foyer below.

  If he had said something to his secretary, and if Nettie had been passing within hearing distance, it might explain some of her sudden, irrational behavior, although her reaction was still extreme.

  “We’d better get you back to the house and into some dry clothes. You want me to run ahead and get you some shoes? This terrain’s kind of rough for bare feet.”

  “I’ve got a pair of tennis shoes in my room.”

  “You okay on your own?”

  “Sure.” She wanted more than anything to lie down in the grass and go to sleep, but she wouldn’t let herself do that anymore than she would let herself admit it. “I’ll go slow and easy ‘til you get back.”

  As he took his first step to leave, Jesse spoke. “And, Gordon…”

  He stopped and turned back, a puzzled frown on his brow.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Really, thank you, for everything.”

  He smiled, a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, and ducked his head. “I’m glad I was here.”

  With that, he took off at a semi-jog, a reminder to Jesse that he was a man in his prime who spent most of his time outdoors. The contrast between Gordon Pitts and Bethany O’Connor couldn’t have been greater than at that moment, and Jesse decided that whatever was happening between those two must be a case of opposites attracting—the sort of private thing that might never make sense to her and didn’t need to.

  As she picked her way across the beach and up the path, the small rocks underfoot grew in size and frequency, mingling with forest debris and poking at her tender soles. But the uphill climb through the trees and into the open terrain warmed her, and her shivering stopped.

  By the time the ground leveled and the path turned to crushed limestone, she was able to walk on the soft green grass that grew on either side of it. With cool, lush lawn beneath her bare feet, Jesse lifted her head and looked around. An open swath of ground surrounded her, a long sweep of emerald that ran from the landscaping immediately in front of the house to the forested area she had just come from.

  Once again, the imposing structure of Drake’s Rest struck her. How could a ship’s captain have afforded such a home? It would easily be twice the size of the average bed and breakfast. And to have built in such an isolated place that was still a full day’s sail from any major port, made the house itself one more mystery that might never be solved.

  Lost in thought, Jesse was surprised when she looked up again and saw a woman hurrying toward her along the
pathway. Feeling very vulnerable suddenly in her bare feet, she studied the figure approaching and realized with relief that the person was taller and slimmer than Nettie Shoemacher.

  In fact, the woman seemed to be as tall and slender as Jesse herself, which narrowed the possible choices to one—Celeste Oglethorpe, in spite of the blonde curls that bobbed around her head where braids should be.

  As she grew closer, Celeste held up a pair of flip-flops and called, “Mr. Daniels couldn’t find your shoes, so I brought these. When everyone heard what had happened, the men all went in search of Nettie before she can find someone else to take her off the island.”

  The statement sounded so practical and the surrounding events so bizarre that Jesse felt an urge to laugh, except that she was seriously miffed at being excluded from the search party.

  “Where did they go?” she called back.

  “Off to somewhere.” Celeste waved her hand vaguely. “They didn’t say exactly, except that Gordon mentioned Nettie had friends in the village who were fishermen. He thought she might have headed in that direction.”

  “They couldn’t wait for me to get there first?”

  “They thought you would want to shower and change clothes.” Celeste stopped in front of Jesse and handed her the flip-flops. “And maybe rest for a bit since you almost drowned.”

  The chin-length hair that had replaced Celeste’s braids looked as if it had been chopped off with a pair of garden shears. For half a second Jesse considered ignoring the ragged mop of curls, deferring instead to the polite silence her mother preached in situations like this.

  “So what happened to your hair?” The words popped out as if they had a life of their own, and Jesse could almost feel Sophia pinch her arm in a reprimand.

  Looking down and to the side, Celeste lifted her hand to her hair. Her fingertips stroked one of the sections that was longer than the rest. “I…uh, the shears weren’t very sharp. The hair kept sliding away.”