Murder Strikes Twice: A Catrina Flaherty Mystery, Book 2 (Catrina Flaherty Mysteries)

by Pendelton Wallace

  “What about the things the boat needs?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop in Mexico as soon as we’re across the border. We can get anything we need there.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing? The police’ll be looking for you. If you come ashore, they’ll arrest you.”

  “Sweetie, this is a matter of life and death. If we don’t leave now, I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison. Do you want that?”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you in the morning. What are you going to do tonight?”

  “I’ve got a few things to take care of before we leave.”

  ****

  The silver S-Class Mercedes pulled into the parking lot at the Salish Lodge overlooking Snoqualmie Falls in the early evening. Brody Barrett gave his keys to the parking valet and headed into the lodge.

  This was one of the most beautiful hotels in the Northwest. Built in a Native American style, the walls were paneled with cedar and the building decorated with Indian artifacts.

  Brody walked past the sign-in desk and directly to the dining room.

  “Table for one,” He told the maitre d’ and slipped her a fifty-dollar bill.

  “Right this way, sir.” She led off into the dining room.

  “I’d like a table overlooking the falls,” Barrett said.

  “Here you are, sir,” she said, and pulled out a chair.

  Barrett looked around the room. It was paneled in cedar strips with a red brick fireplace covering one entire wall and large windows on the adjoining wall. The table tops were made of dark hardwood, polished to a glossy shine. High-backed cushioned chairs surrounded the tables. A rich carpet under his feet added to the effect of an elegant room.

  “Good evening, sir. My name is Geoffrey. I’ll be your server tonight.” The tall young man was dressed in a uniform of immaculately pressed black slacks, white shirt and burgundy vest. “May I bring you something to drink?”

  “I’ll have a bottle of Dom Perignon.”

  “Very good, sir.” The waiter clutched his hands together. “Do you have a vintage preference?”

  Barrett looked confused for a moment. “What do you have?”

  The waiter looked at his cheat sheet. “We have a nice ’92, both 95’s and 96’s and an ’82, but if you want the best, I would recommend the’75.”

  “Okay, ’75.”

  “Very good choice, sir.” The waiter’s eyes widened. “We only have one bottle left.” The waiter turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Barrett stared out the window at the water cascading over the two-hundred-thirty foot drop. It mesmerized him. After a several minutes, he perused the menu.

  Geoffrey was back at his table with the sommelier and a dark green bottle encased in a sliver ice bucket.

  “Very nice choice, sir,” the sommelier, a short, round man with a thick mustache said. “Allow me to serve it myself.”

  He must think that’s some kind of honor.

  The sommelier pulled the dripping bottle from the ice bucket and wrapped it in a white cloth napkin. He expertly removed the wire from the neck of the bottle and put a second napkin over the cork. With a twist of his hands the bottle opened with a pop. He reverently poured a small portion in Barrett’s crystal champagne glass.

  Barrett took the glass by the stem and raised it to the light. The bubbles seemed to sparkle with the brilliance of diamonds. He sniffed, then raised the glass to his lips.

  “Mmmm . . . That’s just fine.” The wine seemed to explode on his palate and float over his tongue. He had no sensation of swallowing.

  “Would you like to order an appetizer now?” Geoffrey asked as the sommelier filled the champagne glass.

  “I’ll have the Penn Cove mussels, followed by the Walla Walla onion soup.” He felt like frigging James Bond.

  “Very good, sir, are you ready to order your main course?”

  “Umm, yeah. I’ll have the Angus beef tenderloin, medium rare.”

  “And the sauce?”

  “Let’s go with the Cognac pepper corn sauce.”

  “Excellent choice, sir.” Geoffrey walked back towards the kitchen.

  Brody reached down and felt his ankle. The fools. It had been child’s play to wire around the connection on the anklet and remove it. He put it around Debby’s cat’s neck. That way, as she moved around the house, the police would think he was just restless at home.

  Brody raised his glass to the ceiling. “Here’s to you, Julie. May you rest in peace.” He took a drink and raised the glass again. “And here’s to you, Lauren. You both are getting what you so richly deserve.”

  Barrett drew out his meal, feeling for all the world like he was in a scene from Goldfinger. For the next two hours he feasted on dish after superb dish. The mussels were a little fishy for his taste, but the onion soup was amazing, and the beef, the best he’d ever tasted.

  Geoffrey came to clear the remaining dishes. “Would you like to see the dessert tray?”

  “No, I can’t eat another bite, but I still want the dark chocolate peanut butter torte.”

  The torte arrived and Brody savored it with his coffee.

  Gawd, what a meal. He could hardly walk. He didn’t ever remember being so stuffed.

  He paid the exorbitant bill with his AMEX card and strolled out toward the lighted falls.

  There weren’t many people out in the evening. A young couple, walking hand in hand, an older woman trying to take pictures in the dark.

  No problem, they wouldn’t pose any threat to his plan.

  He walked up the path to the falls. A steel pipe railing kept the tourists safe from falling over the side. He leaned on the top of the rail and gazed down into the swirling tumult far below him. It was a magnificent sight.

  He took a deep breath, climbed over the railing and paused. This was it. It was all over for him. He’d rather end it on his terms than theirs.

  He stood and stared at the falls. What power, a huge torrent of water dropping over two-hundred feet to the pool at the bottom. It must be cold. Would he survive the plunge, only to be dashed to pieces on the rocks?

  A cold shiver of fear shot down his spine.

  There has to be another way.

  He put one foot on the railing to pull himself safely back over. Just as his weight was balanced on that foot, he saw the manicured hand.

  So shocked he couldn’t move, he looked at her. Saw the malice in her huge blue eyes for just a second, then he tumbled backwards down the falls.

  Brody fell into space. Down the vertical cliff face, he heard a high-pitched scream. Was that really me?

  He felt like he was soaring, that he could actually fly.

  At the one-hundred foot mark, he bounced off an outcropping of rock, his head sounding like a watermelon stuck by a mallet. He bounced off the embankment and tumbled to the water far below.

  At long last, Brody Barrett found peace.

  ****

  Catrina pulled into the parking lot at Seattle Marina. She took the binoculars from her glove box and scanned the boats in the marina. There it was, a big white sailboat on the outer dock. She got out of the car and walked to where she could see the square end of the boat. Dawn Treader. Just like she remembered

  There were four dock carts on the float next to the boat, all piled high with groceries. A short blonde woman emerged from the cabin. She wore a Husky T-shirt and white short shorts, despite the cool weather.

  That has to be Hailey.

  Reaching into her purse, Catrina retrieved her Glock semi-automatic pistol. She dropped the magazine out and checked that it was full. She shoved it back into the handle with a click. Tucking the gun in the holster at the small of her back, she got out of the car and headed towards the dock.

  The first obstacle was a locked gate. Catrina looked around; no one was near. She pulled the lock-pick kit from her pocket and quickly opened the lock. It was there to keep honest people out.

  As she walked down the dock, Catrina kept an eye on the woman load
ing groceries onto the Dawn Treader. Hailey went about her work methodically. She picked items from each of the carts and set them on the deck. Then she moved them to near the companionway hatch and went down the ladder. Moments later, manicured hands reached up and took the items below. Then Hailey returned to the float to start over again.

  Four carts of groceries, that must be enough to last her for weeks.

  “Hi, you must be Hailey,” Catrina said as she extended her hand. “I’m Cat Flaherty.”

  Hailey jumped when Catrina spoke to her. “Who are you?”

  “I’m an old friend of Brody’s. Didn’t he tell you I was coming down here today? Is he here?”

  Hailey eyed Catrina suspiciously. “No, he’s not here yet. He should be here soon.”

  “Can I help you load some of your things?”

  “Sure.” Hailey relaxed a little. “You can hand boxes up to me on the boat, then I’ll take them below and stow ‘em.”

  It didn’t take long for the two of them to empty the carts. When the last cart was unloaded, Catrina jumped up onto the boat’s deck.

  “Hey,” Hailey warned. “You shouldn’t be on deck with those boots. You’ll scratch the teak.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Catrina sat down on a hatch and unzipped her boots. “I’m not really familiar with boats.”

  “Why don’t you come below?” Hailey gestured towards the companionway hatch. “We can talk while I stow this.” She turned and disappeared down the ladder.

  It had been years since Catrina was on a boat. She looked at the steep ladder leading downstairs and shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  Catrina lowered herself down the ladder into a different world. The entire interior of the boat was made of rich teak, offset with white paneling. The woodwork was beautiful.

  A tiny kitchen was on her left, a table and a single bench on her right. Electronic equipment surrounded the table. She recognized the VHF radio, but all the rest were foreign to her.

  Hailey noticed Catrina staring. “That’s the nav-station. We plot our course there and all the communication and radar equipment is there too.”

  Catrina found something else she recognized. “Is this a GPS? It’s much bigger than anything I’ve seen.”

  “It’s a chart-plotter. Yes, it’s a GPS, but it has much more capability than the one in your phone. At sea, there aren’t any marked highways, so you need to see a much larger area.”

  Groceries, cleaning supplies and paper products covered every flat surface in the cabin.

  “It looks like you’re getting ready for a long trip.”

  “Uh . . . yeah.” Hailey hesitated a moment. “We thought we’d head up to Alaska. You know, to see Glacier Bay and the whales.”

  “Isn’t it a little late in the year to go north?” Catrina asked as she took a seat at the galley table.

  “Yes and no.” Hailey picked up a box of groceries from the table and moved them to the sink. “It gets cold up there, but we’re prepared. We have thermal clothing and the boat has a forced-air heating system. Besides, there’s no one else up there this time of year.”

  She wouldn’t look at Catrina while she spoke. Catrina noticed a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead.

  Before Catrina had a chance to dig deeper, her cell phone rang. It was Mary Beth.

  “Excuse me.” Catrina got up and walked into the forward cabin.

  “Hi MB, what’s up?”

  “Oh, my God!” Catrina was clearly shocked. “When? Where?”

  She held the phone to her ear for a moment.

  “Uh . . . okay. Thank you for calling me. I’ll be back at the office soon.”

  “Something important?” Hailey asked. “You look really shook up.”

  “Brody . . . It’s Brody. He’s dead.”

  Hailey just stared at Catrina.

  “He fell over Snoqualmie Falls last night.”

  Hailey didn’t seem bothered at all. After a brief moment of shock, she went about her duties. Was that a look of satisfaction on her face?

  ****

  The eastern horizon burst into a blazing red. Slowly, the sun peeked above the sea, painting the Pacific Ocean brilliant gold. A steady breeze from the Northwest pushed Dawn Treader along at eight knots.

  Hailey emerged from the cabin, a cup of coffee in hand. “Good morning, day,” she said as she found a seat in the cockpit.

  As the sun climbed above the horizon, she listened to the sound of the boat cleaving through the water.

  She saw a splash to port. There they were! The first dolphin of the day.

  At first there were one or two, then a dozen or more, then twenty, thirty, fifty. In a few minutes, there were hundreds of dolphin leaping through the water, all racing towards Los Angeles and shore, over the horizon to the east.

  Hailey leaned back in the cockpit, sipped her coffee and enjoyed the moment.

  She had seen Brody coming all the way; she knew that it would turn out like this. When he invited her on this cruise, she knew he had no intention of her ever coming back. That’s why he had no problem with putting her name on the boat’s title; he didn’t expect her to live long enough to do anything about it. The sucker!

  Hailey watched the dolphin frolic and fell into a trance-like state. Her mind flowed back over the years. She pictured herself as a little girl, playing dress up in the back yard. She stumbled in her mom’s high heels. Loving hands reached down to pick her up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  Lauren Stevens was a teenager then, with curly blonde locks and sea-blue eyes. She looked like an angel to the young Hailey. Her grandfather recommended Lauren to Hailey’s parents. She was smart, calm and trustworthy. Lauren had been Hailey’s baby-sitter for years. They built a life-long bond that bastard, Brody, had broken.

  When the police ruled Lauren’s death an accident, Hailey knew she had to do something about it. But what? Her best plan was to meet him, to make him want her so she could get him in a position to take her revenge. When he wasn’t on guard, she’d slip a knife between his ribs or a drop of poison into his coffee. Then he would just disappear in the great Pacific Ocean.

  The bastard had done Hailey the biggest favor of her life. He saved her the trouble of having to dispose of him. The image of Brody plunging over the cliff, falling into the frigid water brought a smile to her face.

  It couldn’t be more poetic.

  The coward. Rather than face the consequences of his actions, he took the easy way out.

  But why? He and Hailey had an escape plan. They were going to sail off to the great South Seas. Did guilt overwhelm him? It couldn’t be. He didn’t have the slightest bit of remorse. He must have thought that he couldn’t get away, that the law would catch up with him no matter where he went.

  He couldn’t stand the thought of spending the rest of his life in prison. He was big and strong, but even a hunk like him couldn’t stand up to the prison gangs. He’d be fresh meat the moment he walked through the door.

  But why had he hesitated? Was he just a coward? It really didn’t matter. It only took a slight nudge to send him to his fate.

  He thought he’d screwed everyone, moving his money into untraceable off-shore banks. He’d made a fortune from his crimes, but he was determined no one else was going to benefit from his hard work.

  Hailey reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a crumpled photograph. She looked at the picture of Lauren and her daughter, Debby, for a moment then turned the photo over. On the back a series of numbers were written in a neat hand.

  “Don’t worry, darling, I know where the money is.’

  Acknowledgements

  I need to first thank my better half, Dawn Tift. Dawn worked with me from the start of Murder Strikes Twice to shape the story and develop the characters.

  I must thank my writers group, San Diego Wednesday Night Meet-Up. They helped me hone this book into a finished product.

  My editor and proof-readers have requested to remain anonymous. Here’s a big tha
nk you to all of you.

  Brandi McCann designed the cover for this book. She did her customary outstanding job in taking an idea and bringing it to life.

  Mike Gibbs, a retired San Diego police officer, was my mentor and helper in shaping the police scenes. He corrected my errors and helped me write the cop-speak dialog.

  I must thank my beta readers who saw the first draft of the manuscript and helped me smooth out the rough edges. You know who you are.

  I have to thank Mama. She’s been in my corner from the beginning. She encouraged me when the night seemed the darkest. I would not be publishing my eighth book without her. Muchas gracias.

  And finally, I have to thank you, dear reader, especially those of you who have taken the time to write to me with your thoughts and comments. Without patrons, artists don’t last very long. The fact that you read and enjoy what I write drives me onward. Like Thomas Jefferson, I believe that a free society must read to maintain its freedom. You are all freedom fighters.

  Pendelton C. Wallace

  10/23/2015

  San Diego, California

  Author’s Note

  I am often asked where I get the ideas for my stories. It was right there staring me in the face in the supermarket checkout line, People Magazine. The cover story that week in the summer of 2015 was about a man who killed his two wives to collect the insurance money.

  “Wait a minute,” I said to myself. “This is a Cat Flaherty story.” And so began my journey.

  I bought the magazine and read it thoroughly several times. Then I did an Internet search and found thousands of hits on this story.

  At the time I completed Murder Strikes Twice, it had not yet come to conclusion in real-life. Just this week, the jury reached a verdict and the model for Brody Bennett was convicted of murder in the first degree. The judge hasn’t yet proclaimed the sentence, but the news article I read said it was a mandatory life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. Art imitates life. I had to have a slam-bang ending for my story, so I went where I always go, to my imagination. I made up the last few scenes.