Ryan strolled up to the dock wearing sky-blue shorts, a white t-shirt, Wayfarer sunglasses, and a blue Miami Marlins’ baseball cap. He looked the antithesis of dark, enigmatic Brooklyn Ryan as he called out, “Hey, Skipper, what mysterious ports are we cruising to?”
“I haven’t taken this baby out in ten years,” Liz said, laughing. “Are you sure you want to take a chance?”
“Fear of danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger itself,” he said as he climbed on board.
Liz almost fell into the lagoon. He’d just quoted Daniel Defoe from Robinson Crusoe. “We should stay near shore for the time being. I’m waiting for my father to come back from the courthouse. If we head out to sea, I might lose my cell phone signal.”
Ryan stepped on board and took a seat next to Betty. He removed his sunglasses and hat, then gave Liz his full attention. “Okay, Captain, fire away.”
Liz swiveled in the pilot’s seat so she could face them. “There’ve been so many new developments in the last few hours that I thought I’d call in our little posse to help me see the big picture.”
Betty reached in her tote and removed her iPad. “I have a few things to share also.”
Ryan took out his phone. “As do I.”
“Who goes first?” Liz asked.
“You go, Liz,” said Betty. “Do you mind if I record you?”
“Not at all.”
Ryan touched something on his phone. “Great idea.”
Liz stood at the same time a huge powerboat sent a tsunami-sized wake in the Chris-Craft’s direction. She teetered and tottered, then fell directly into Ryan’s waiting arms. Liz laughed with embarrassment, even though she didn’t mind the hand-to-hand contact or the smell of his neck before she reluctantly pushed up and righted herself. “Oops. Sorry, have to get my sea legs back. I’ve been a landlubber too long.”
Ryan smiled. “If you can handle this boat all by yourself, then you’re a better seaman than me. I’ve only been a passenger on fishing boats, and I have to admit I always get seasick for the first half hour. Then my stomach settles and I’m good to go for hours.” He moved over and patted the cushioned bench next to him.
“Thanks, but I have to stay out of the sun.” Liz returned to the pilot’s seat under the canopy. “The first bombshell, and possibly the only one we’ll need is…wait for it…I just saw Brittany Poole wearing the same ring Regina Harrington-Worth wore Thursday night.”
Betty slapped her knee. “Holy smoke!”
“Are you sure?” Ryan asked.
“Beyond sure. You can’t miss this thing. It’s huge, with a humongous emerald. I know it doesn’t necessarily make Brittany guilty of murder, but it could point the finger at her boyfriend, Nick.”
“Speaking of Nick,” Betty said, “I was talking to Captain Netherton, and he said that when he was swabbing the deck of Queen of the Seas, he saw Iris and Nick heading out on Nick’s father’s skiff, both dressed in diving suits.”
“Interesting,” Liz said. “That might explain the champagne bottle and two glasses I saw in Iris’s suite the day before the murder and the fact that she’s always disappearing. But with their age difference, it’s hard to picture them in a relationship.”
“Maybe it was a business arrangement, not romantic?” Ryan suggested. “They could be diving for treasure. By the way, I have a call in to the new owner of Edward’s business in Miami. I also had a little chat with Edward, as you suggested, Liz. He claims he was at Squidly’s during the time Regina was murdered and he has a charge receipt to prove it. Along with the bartender as an eyewitness.”
“Squidly’s is within walking distance of the Indialantic,” Liz said. “He could have snuck out the back door, done the deed, then returned to the restaurant without anyone noticing. That place is packed from the moment they open their doors until closing time.”
“Grandad said Squidly’s makes an amazing Thursday night crab boil. I’ll have to check it out and see if anyone can verify Edward’s alibi. I also had a conversation with Brittany over a glass of wine. She claims that she and Nick spent the evening at her place, exhausted from the Spring Fling.”
A glass of wine? “Ha,” Liz said, a little too harshly. “What did she do? Break a fingernail ringing up sales?”
Betty looked at Liz. “It seems that all three of them have weak alibis.”
“I left my father a voice mail about the ring Brittany was wearing. He’s at the courthouse. Iris was arrested.”
“Say what!” Betty held her iPad close to Liz’s mouth.
“Agent Pearson arrested Iris for stealing one of Regina’s earrings and trying to pawn it, along with Regina’s cat’s diamond collar.”
Betty’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t see that one coming. I had officially taken her off my list.”
“Iris said she found the single earring and cat collar on the floor the night of the murder. But if she killed Regina, that would mean Captain Netherton was her accomplice.”
“I don’t think so,” Ryan said. “I’ve looked into the captain’s past, and he’s squeaky-clean. Not even a parking ticket. He also volunteers with underprivileged high school kids on his days off, teaching them sailing. There have been no changes in his bank accounts, and he’s received the United States Coast Guard Silver Lifesaving Medal.” Ryan looked to Liz. “Captain Netherton was wounded on that same mission, and he has a metal rod in his left leg.”
“So, maybe Iris and Nick are in it together?” Betty said.
“Hmmm. One more thing.” Liz felt like a heel for having thought the captain was faking his limp. “I wanted to believe Francie is also innocent, but she lied about her alibi the night of the murder. Plus, her parents and Regina’s hung out together and there are rumors that Regina’s mother and Francie’s father were having an affair. I also discovered something else strange. There was a retrospective recently held of Percival Harrington II at the library. Someone broke into the showcase and stole a few old photographs.”
“Okay, let’s recap. Our top suspects are Nick Goren, Edward Goren, Francie Jenkins, Iris Kimball, and David Worth,” Ryan said, as he put on his sunglasses.
“You can take David off the list,” Liz said. “Agent Pearson divulged that his wound was ‘not’ self-inflicted. That leaves Nick, Edward, Francie, and Iris. Brittany wouldn’t kill Regina, then wear her stolen ring. Iris can only be an accessory to murder, because we believe Captain Netherton is innocent, and he swears Iris was with him the entire night. Hopefully, when my father returns, we’ll get a clearer picture of everything and fill in a few more pieces of the puzzle.”
After Liz battened down Serendipity’s hatches, the three went into the hotel and shared a pitcher of Pierre’s lemon-limeade and a plate of coconut lime sugar cookies, Liz’s childhood favorites, and waited for Fenton to arrive home.
Chapter 34
Upon waking Wednesday morning, Liz stretched, turned back the duvet, and reached for her phone. Peering through sleepy eyes, she saw it was 8 a.m. She placed the phone back on the nightstand and looked over next to her. Panic struck. Where was Bronte? Two white paws emerged from where she’d folded back the duvet. She peeled back the covers and exposed a gray-and-white-striped kitten.
“Bronte, I thought you’d abandoned me.” Liz turned on her side and cozied up to the kitten, sticking her nose in the long, white fur on her belly, thinking Bronte must have some Persian ancestors in her pedigree. “It was quite a day yesterday. I hope today finds things back to normal.” Bronte turned her head at Liz’s voice, and she could already feel the calming effect of pet ownership. There had always been family pets at the Indialantic over the years. Liz luxuriated in the fact that Bronte was all hers. Maybe if she’d had a pet when she lived alone in Manhattan, she wouldn’t have needed a man—as in Travis. She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows in front of her, which looked out to the sea. Dense fog eclipsed
the view, and she relaxed back on her pillows. Blessedly, she had no pressing engagements for the day. She planned to stay inside and snuggle up with Miss Bronte.
Yesterday, when her father had returned to the Indialantic, Liz, Ryan, and Betty knocked on his office door and laid out everything they knew. Her father then called Agent Pearson and relayed a concise, detailed summary of what had been uncovered by the Three Detectiveteers.
After Fenton heard Liz’s message about the ring, he’d accompanied Agent Pearson to the emporium just in time to catch Brittany and Nick as they were leaving. Brittany handed over the ring, a supposed gift from Nick. Agent Pearson and Fenton went directly to David Worth’s suite, and he confirmed that the ring was, indeed, his wife’s. Her father said David had seemed so upset that he worried he might have a stroke.
Her father had also passed on, per Agent Pearson, that Francie had an alibi for Saturday night. She was at the Sebastian Beach Inn sitting at the bar until midnight. Two men sitting next to her, and the bartender, collaborated Francie’s claim. Apparently, Francie had lied to Minna, knowing the two men who’d showed up for their blind date weren’t Minna’s type. Francie decided to take a chance in case one of them was her soul mate. Plus, she wanted to drown her guilt about the fact that she’d vandalized the Worths’ Bentley. They also learned that there was a drop of blood found in the dumbwaiter that matched David’s blood type. Liz had been right in assuming the dumbwaiter had been used by the killer.
Liz scooped up Bronte and brought her to the kitchen. “Breakfast time, kitty.”
As she filled Bronte’s water and food bowl, she heard the tinkling of piano keys coming from the bedroom, indicating she’d received an e-mail or text on her phone. She placed the bowls on a cute plastic mat Kate had supplied and hurried to retrieve her phone. She tapped the phone’s screen and opened an e-mail from Mrs. Ingles.
Liz, I came across this picture of the showcase taken the morning of Percival Harrington II’s retrospective. The two bottom right photos are the ones that were stolen, I had one of our librarians enlarge them for you. I don’t know if any of this will help with your investigation, but let me know if it does. XO, Mrs. Ingles.
She went to her office to look more closely at the photos on her laptop. So much for letting go and allowing the authorities to take over. There were still too many questions. An hour later, she was out the door, heading to the emporium. There was someone she needed to talk to.
Liz set out on foot for the emporium, afraid to drive even a golf cart in the miasma. She could barely make out the outline of the building in the dense fog. It wasn’t raining, but by the time she walked inside, she was drenched from head to toe. There was still an hour and a half until opening and the shops were in darkness. Light filtered in from the single wall of windows, casting shadows onto the mannequins in Sirens by the Sea. As she hurried past the shop, she swore one of the mannequins moved, like in one of Aunt Amelia’s black-and-white episodes of The Outer Limits. She rounded the corner at full speed, worried Brittany or Nick were hiding, ready to stab her with the knife that had wounded David Worth. A dim light glowed from Gold Coast by the Sea, and Liz moved toward it.
Edward sat at his small worktable, resembling a wax museum figure from one of her great-aunt’s favorite 1950s movies, House of Wax, which ironically starred Vincent Price, Edward’s look-alike, in the starring role as Professor Henry Jarrod.
Liz walked in and moved toward him. “Edward, can I talk to you?” A small desk lamp was the only light source in the shop. Still he didn’t move. For a minute, Liz thought he might be dead, but as she edged closer, she saw a slight tremor in his left hand. “Edward, are you alright? Should I call a doctor?”
Slowly, his gaze moved up to Liz’s face. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to ask you about your time on Percival Harrington II’s salvager, Ocean’s Bounty, and why you never told anyone you were part of the crew that brought up treasure from the shipwrecked San Carlos.”
Mrs. Ingles had sent Liz the two photographs missing from Percival II’s retrospective. After Liz scanned them, she’d recognized someone familiar—a young Edward Goren. Edward was the only one of the crew on the Ocean’s Bounty that didn’t have a wide-mouthed grin on his face. In the photos, he wore the same scowl he had now, looking up at Liz.
“Why would I tell anyone that? It’s not a crime. It was my first job. I was more of an indentured servant than a diver, not like the all-powerful Percival Harrington II, with his Midas touch. Prissy Percy never even went down to sift through the rubble on the sea floor—he sent us down, like coal miners into an unsafe mine, no high-tech equipment or safety gear, expecting us to pull up his loot, then hand it over, no questions asked. If it wasn’t for the map I’d made of where the cargo hold of the San Carlos might be located, based on tide charts, past storms, and hurricanes, all Pretty Boy Percy would have found was a bunch of broken pottery.”
“You found the treasure?”
“You’re surprised? Percy waited at the surface, treading water in his brand-new wet suit, waiting for the treasure to be cranked up so he could grab the net for the perfect photo op. Instead of patting me on the back for finding a king’s ransom, or should I say a queen’s, because much of the jewelry had been a dowry for Queen Maria Luisa of Spain, he pushed me away. I’m sure you’ve seen the historic photo; it was plastered in every newspaper across the country.” He opened the single drawer under his worktable, rifled through it, pulled out a sepia-colored page of newsprint, and handed it to her. He was right. It was the same yellowed front-page article Liz had seen framed on the walls of local treasure museums, restaurants, and gift shops—and at historical society events.
Edward continued his diatribe. “Afterward, when we laid everything out on deck to sort through, Percy threw me a few gold coins and said, ‘Keep the change,’ then laughed for the cameras. But I wasn’t laughing.”
“How did your son get ahold of Regina Harrington-Worth’s ring from the San Carlos?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Your son gave it to Brittany Poole. I know it’s the same one, because I saw it on Regina’s hand Thursday night.”
White-knuckled, Edward gripped the table edge like he wanted to lift it up and toss it at her. But before he could, he received a phone call.
It was just as well, for Liz knew she was swimming in dangerous territory. She wasn’t a daredevil like Kate, and she remembered the wise adage, “Never confront a killer without backup.”
Edward stood, put his phone in his pocket, and turned off the lamp. He brushed past her and strode out of the shop without a word, leaving Liz in the dark—literally and metaphorically.
She felt her way out of the shop, the only light source in this part of the emporium from the Exit sign by the emergency door. She carefully stepped down the corridor, toward the faint light coming from the windows by the entrance. In front of Books & Browsery by the Sea, she received a phone call.
“There’s news on the ring you saw on Brittany,” Ryan said, skipping any form of greeting.
“What kind of news?”
“The ring is a fake. I just talked to Charlotte.”
Charlotte? “But Regina’s husband said it was hers…?”
“It’s an excellent fake.”
“What about the earring that Iris pawned? Was that a fake, too?”
“No, Charlotte said it was the real thing.”
“This is crazy. Where do we go from here?” Liz told Ryan about the photos Mrs. Ingles had sent and her conversation only moments before with Edward Goren. “Did you ask Charlotte if they’d checked to see if there are any other copies of jewelry from the treasure of San Carlos?”
“Charlotte’s doing that now. She’s at the bank with your father. The same bank where Regina had a dozen safety
-deposit boxes. Charlotte told me Regina’s father had made it a stipulation in his will that a representative from the bank had to be on hand to sign off on what jewels were taken out of the boxes and what were put back in.”
“Wow. Crazy. Let me know if you hear anything else? Can you fill her in on Edward? And also ask her to have my father call me.”
“Of course. You be careful. I suggest you head back to your beach house and lock the doors.”
“Yes, Mr. Bossy Pants.”
Ryan laughed. “It’s so foggy out there, it took me a half hour to get to my grandfather’s. We’re leaving now for Deli-casies. I’ll call you when we get there, and you can come over for lunch. We’ll wait together for any updates.”
“Sounds good,” Liz said, slightly surprised by the invitation.
Then he added, “Invite Betty, too.” Her spirits took a slightly downward spiral.
After she hung up, she chided herself for being jealous over Ryan’s possible attraction to forty-something Agent Charlotte Pearson. But the woman was gorgeous and competent, and well, gorgeous. Liz’s thoughts segued to the fake ring—even David Worth had been fooled when Agent Pearson showed it to him. Who had made the fake? And why? She guessed, after Agent Pearson opened the safety-deposit boxes and had the jewels tested, they would know whether any other pieces from the San Carlos treasure had been duplicated. If that was the case, Liz wondered if Regina had been the one commissioning the fakes so she could sell the real thing without her father or the insurance company knowing. Then Liz circled back to Nick Goren, who’d given the ring to Brittany. Completing the wheel of confusion was Edward’s confession that he’d been the one to find the original treasure, without getting any credit or compensation.
As Liz walked by Home Arts by the Sea, the main lights to the emporium switched on, and she heard voices, Nick’s and Brittany’s. Liz crouched down and went into Home Arts, then crawled under one of the worktables so she could eavesdrop.
“How dare you give me a fake piece of jewelry!” Brittany screeched. “I’ll be the laughingstock of the island. What a bullshit story you gave me about finding the ring when you were with your father on one of his salvaging expeditions, saving it for when you met the love of your life.”
Death by the Sea Page 21