Loren’s gaze bored into the constable. “You’re a cop, and technically I work for the CID. Done and dusted.”
“Loren’s right. We can’t wait.” Berdie moved to the carrier where Hero was on his feet. Tail twitching, ears at attention, eyes enlarged, he was eager. “Sea air, Hero.” She worked to unlatch the door.
“What are you doing?” Goodnight demanded.
“I’m releasing Hero.”
“I brought that flea-bite out here just to let it go? That cat’s in police custody.”
“Good, don’t let him out of your sight.” Berdie bounced her gaze from Albert, to Hugh, and Loren. “All of you. Move in silence, and stay with him.”
Berdie flung the door open. Had Hero been a fox with hounds in pursuit, he couldn’t have sprung from the carrier more rapidly.
“Go, go,” Berdie beckoned to the men as the cat shot onto the primary dock.
Loren took the lead in pursuit, Berdie and Hugh after.
Albert smacked his beaker down on his car bonnet and fell in behind them.
After nearly fifty yards of chase down the dock, Berdie could feel her heart pumping.
Hugh was with her, Goodnight tragically far behind, Loren still ahead.
Hero stopped abruptly, pricked his ears, and shot down along one of the finger docks where there were several boat slips.
“Good boy,” Berdie breathed.
At slip seventeen, with his tail up, Hero jumped onto the bow of a cabin cruiser boat, Land Flow.
“That’s it.” Berdie sounded a stifled alert and pointed. “That’s the boat we’re looking for.”
Hero began to squall and scampered on deck.
Hugh stopped, bent over and picked up a pair of rather stylish black frame glasses that lay on the dock.
Berdie glanced his way, still trying to keep Hero in view.
Hugh held them out for Berdie to see. They had no lenses.
“Lord have mercy.” Berdie wanted to scream it, but kept the words at the bottom of her voice. “They’re Lillie’s,” she mouthed to Hugh. Berdie’s memory came alive. Lillie had them in her pocket when she was abducted. “Lillie’s here,” she mouthed again.
Loren stepped deftly toward the bow while Hero’s squalls continued.
“Hero?” a man called from quarters down below the deck.
Berdie knew that voice. She grabbed Loren and put her finger to her mouth.
Loren and Hugh became motionless.
“Did you run away again?” The even beet of footsteps sounded. “Hero, you silly boy.”
The cat sprang back on the bow.
“Grab the cat,” Berdie whisper-yelled to Loren.
Loren thrust himself with stealth across the bow and wrapped his hands around the creature’s middle. Hero let go a very loud objection as Loren slid onto the boat deck with cat in hand.
Berdie snapped a finger getting Loren’s attention. She mimicked pulling the cat to her chest and stroking it.
Loren obliged.
“Hero?” The body of Clive Moore began to emerge from the lower reaches of the boat. “You in trouble, boy?” He stepped onto the deck.
“No, but you are.” Berdie worked to keep her words even.
Moore reared. His hand moved to his waist as his cool gaze whirled from Berdie to Hugh to Loren. “Off my boat,” he growled toward the doctor.
“Not without Lillie.” The words blazed from Loren’s mouth.
Moore pulled a pistol from his waistband and thrust it toward Loren.
Hugh stepped in front of Berdie, half covering her with his own body.
“I said, get off my boat.” Moore jerked the gun toward the dock and rapidly back as he kept his icy gaze on Loren.
“Hero will most certainly die if you try to shoot Dr. Meredith.” Berdie, feeling breathless, barely got the words out.
Clive Moore’s gaze didn’t leave Loren, but Berdie could see a hint of panic rush through. “Be quiet, you interfering cow.” Moore edged toward Loren. “Give me the cat.”
Loren’s feet were anchored. The large elongated tom cat covered him neck to waist. “Off your boat or give you the cat? Which is it?” Loren scoffed.
Moore pursed his lips and rubbed his thumb against the gun butt.
“Mr. Moore, Clive. Let’s think about this.” Berdie’s calm voice sliced through her teeth-on-edge trepidation. “Think about all you have for Hero’s being here with you.”
The man swallowed. Moisture sprung along his brow, gaze glued to his treasured feline.
Hugh slid his fingers around Berdie’s hand.
“You can’t stroke your Cassie’s soft hair, but you can run a finger through Hero’s fur,” Berdie coaxed.
“Shut it.” Moore braced his feet, but his face skewed with emotion. He bit his lip.
“Flames all round her, Hero was Cassie’s protector, Clive, when you couldn’t be there with her.”
Moore’s chest began to rise and fall in a quickened pace.
Loren gently stroked Hero.
“Don’t take any silly chances, Clive.” Berdie’s tone was truth wrapped in cream. “He’s your link to the one you loved most.”
The firearm quivered. Moore drew his other hand up and clasped the gun barrel in an attempt to steady it, still trained on Loren.
“Think carefully,” Hugh spoke. “Let the doctor go below so he can see to the women’s health with a guarantee of Hero’s safety.”
A grimace appeared on Moore’s face. He squeezed his eyes momentarily, as if to wash the salty moisture that invaded them.
Berdie ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Cassie would want Hero and everyone safe.”
Moore lifted his chin and sucked air through his teeth.
“Put the weapon aside and let’s do this peacefully,” Hugh offered.
“I don’t need some fancy vicar telling me what to do,” raged from Moore’s mouth.
“Oh, I rather think you do, Morgan.”
Berdie heard the challenging words come from behind her.
Moore darted his gaze for a split second to the spot from where the words originated, then back to Loren, on whom the gun was trained. “Holmes.” The word was full of bile.
Berdie looked behind her to see the man she knew as Gavin Broadhouse.
“Let the doctor see to Olivia,” Broadhouse commanded.
“Get stuffed.”
“You’ve a bit of a surprise coming. I think you’ll want to let the doctor go about his business.”
“I said shut it. Or I’ll do him, and then turn on you.”
Heavy panting along with shoes clomping in lagging strides on the finger dock signaled Goodnight’s appearance.
Oh, no. Berdie’s stomach flipflopped.
“OK, you burke,” Goodnight boomed in breathy spurts, and then he spotted the weapon. Like tires screeching to a halt, he stopped short. “Let’s not be hasty,” he croaked and took steps backward.
The muffled blast and ping of a ricocheted bullet sounded across the deck.
For an instant, everyone froze.
Moore’s startled gaze zoomed to the boat next as if to find the origin of the fired shot.
Hugh pushed Berdie down. As she landed, it seemed everything happened in slow motion.
Hero rocketed from Loren’s arms as the doctor lunged low to hurl himself toward Moore, who swung his weapon to train it upon Broadhouse. As he pulled the trigger, Loren grasped the perpetrator’s knees and with his full weight, pushed Moore to the deck in a gasping sprawl.
At the same moment, Berdie heard Broadhouse release a cry of pain and collapse.
Moore struggled to rise.
But Hugh was upon the felon before he could get to his feet. Her husband smashed a fist directly into the side of Moore’s jaw that sent him tumbling back down onto the deck where he sprawled on his back like a bag of loose potatoes, unable to rise.
“Loren, get Lillie,” Hugh commanded.
“I’ll see to Broadhouse,” Berdie shouted.
Hugh r
etrieved the gun as Loren flew to the steps and disappeared below.
“Blimey!” Goodnight made way as rapidly as he could to the boat’s deck. “Sit on ‘im,” he urged Hugh and pulled out his handcuffs.
Berdie heard thunder pounding the dock as she turned to the supine Broadhouse and knelt next him. “How bad is it?”
“Thank God, the doctor knocked him off balance.” Blood stained the shoulder already encompassed in a sling. He pushed his free hand against the wound as Berdie wadded up a nearby beach towel.
“Just a graze,” Berdie observed.
Broadhouse grimaced. “Yes, well, I think he was keen to finish what he started with his hit and run.”
“You’ll be fine in a bit. The cavalry’s arrived.” Berdie placed the towel like a pillow under the man’s head.
Several police swarmed along the finger dock and invaded the boat. They lifted Moore to his feet.
Berdie rubbed Mr. Broadhouse’s free hand that had gone cold, shock taking its course in his body. “That was pretty bold of you, approaching Moore like that.”
“His name’s Clifford Morgan. And I thought it would distract him.”
“Oh, it did that, all right.”
“But the first shot fired, the one that broke everything up. Where did that come from?”
Berdie squeezed her lips together. She could feel the lump of her mobile phone against her thigh in her trouser pocket. “God watches over us all, doesn’t He?”
While Hugh turned over the firearm to one of the lawmen, a policewoman approached Berdie and Broadhouse. “You hurt, sir?” she barked.
“I’ll survive. See to Mrs. Mikalos, down below. She’s diabetic. She should have her tablets. And please let me know how she is.”
“You her husband?”
Mr. Broadhouse, or whatever his name, blew out a slow breath. “No.” He looked Berdie in the eye. “I’m no one’s husband.”
The officer nodded. “The ambulance is on its way.” She moved to the steps and descended.
“You took Olivia’s tablets from her bathroom chest.”
Mr. Broadhouse nodded and released a long sigh.
Berdie placed more letters in the crossword of her mind. “Holmes, that’s your real name, then?”
“Gareth Holmes, yes.” He gave a slight shiver.
Berdie took off her spring coat and placed it over Mr. Holmes upper body.
“And would you be any relation to a raspy voiced telephone informant?”
Mr. Holmes smiled. “You’ve an amazing talent, Mrs. Elliott.”
“And you used me.”
He nodded. “Sorry, that. I couldn’t come forward. There was a threat to kill Olivia if I tried to intervene or go to the police. I didn’t know where she was, and I needed someone to do the heavy lifting. May I say you did it brilliantly?”
“You may,” Berdie said with salt.
“I’m afraid I’m not an innocent, I’m deeply mired in this mess.”
“I know.”
He gave her a shy glance. “I fell in love with Olivia you see, and it changed everything.”
“Love, real love, does that.” Berdie saw sincerity in this man’s eyes she’d not noticed before. Her Hugh, he had comprehended it from the start.
The policewoman appeared on deck and addressed the Officer in charge. “Two hostages below are drugged, and weak, but there’s no signs of any real harm or abuse. The doc’s with them.”
“Thank God.” Berdie felt relief pour upon her like cool rain on a desert dune.
Gareth Holmes swallowed. Moisture seeped from the corner of an eye.
Two constables escorted the cuffed Moore, who sported a swollen jaw, from the boat onto the dock.
Berdie and Mr. Holmes watched.
“Please help me to sit up,” Mr. Holmes directed Berdie.
“But your wound.”
“Up, please.”
Berdie put her hands and arms under his back lifting him forward.
A growl of pain escaped from the man’s lips.
Nearly upright, Berdie wedged her shoulder behind him to act as a support.
“He’s complicit in all this.” Moore lifted his chin toward Mr. Holmes.
“I thought I’d get you something you’ve always wanted, Morgan.” Gareth Holmes’s words took great effort. “A very long island vacation fully paid.” He grinned. “At Parkhurst Prison on the Isle of White.”
Morgan sneered. “You heard the constable, no real harm.”
“And what of his gunshot wound?” Berdie huffed.
“You saw it yourself, madam. There was a struggle and the firearm went off.”
“Oh, yes?” Berdie snapped at him. “Let me see. First there’s kidnapping, then possession of a firearm with intent to endanger life, and use of firearm to resist arrest. Oh yes, each of which carry a life sentence.”
Holmes took a labored breath. “You know, Morgan, there is a force greater than greed, domination, or peril. It’s older than the ages and it’s called love.”
Morgan sniffed. “What’s that I smell? Rubbish.” He had the words barely uttered, when an unknown woman wearing a headscarf and sunglasses approached.
“Ah, someone I just recently met.” Holmes drawled. “I think you two may know each other.”
The woman removed the scarf and sunglasses.
Morgan’s jaw slacked as he shrank back. His face went chalk white.
“Seen a ghost, Cliffy?” The unknown lady took a step closer to Morgan, who struggled against his handcuffs. “Or is prison pallor already setting in? You didn’t count on Moroccan fishermen illegally trolling Portuguese waters off Madeira that night, did you?”
“Liv, darling.”
Liv? Berdie stared at the stranger. Familiarity danced through her memory.
The woman lifted her chin and addressed the constables. “He left me, his wife, for dead. And I dare say I’m not the first one he’s done it to.” Her gaze burrowed into Morgan. “Attempted murder, darling.” Her words had the sting of vinegar. “Lock him up, throw away the key, and don’t look back.”
“Livy?” Berdie blurted.
“Yes. Who are you?”
“Harriet’s friend. But when did you get here, how?” Berdie asked.
“Just arrived by sea. I spent weeks being cared for by two very kind fishermen’s wives.” She lifted a brow. “A promise of visa sponsorship to this country can get you almost anything in a small Moroccan fishing village.”
“Move along,” the two constables bawled and pulled the agitated detainee down the dock where a snap happy Dave Exton plied his wares.
“This entire boat is a crime scene,” the officer in charge trumpeted. “We want all of you,” he waved his hand to encompass everyone, “at the station immediately.” He plunged a finger toward Mr. Holmes, “and especially you, after you get checked out at the hospital.”
Mr. Holmes nodded.
“We’ll all be there,” Hugh assured.
Albert Goodnight cast his gaze at Berdie, Mr. Holmes, Hugh, and then Livy. He ran a finger across his bushy untrimmed mustache. “From a mangled cat to murder. Blimey.”
15
Berdie admired the dressed back garden of St. Aidan of the Woods Church where she stood. And, she could feel Ivy Butz’s curious stare from ten feet away.
“Mrs. Elliott, the tables in the marquee are ready. Neat as a pin.” When Ivy stood at her side, the woman took in Berdie’s hat then turned her focus to the ground while she touched the brim of her own satin-banded sun-hat.
“It’s OK, Ivy.” Berdie leaned close. “It’s not something I’d normally wear to a garden wedding, or anywhere else, really.”
Ivy’s jolly smile blossomed. “It was a gift, then.”
Berdie nodded.
Ivy tipped her head and stared at the chapeau. “Would you call it a semi-circle shape?”
“A semi-circle shape that is fitted to the head and tilted slightly down toward the forehead, yes.”
“I must say I’ve not ofte
n seen brown sequins.” Ivy sent her index finger into little twirls. “And used in such decorative swirls.”
Berdie tried not to chuckle. “Nor, I dare say, have you seen three stick straight black feathers standing at attention on the back end.”
Ivy pressed her lips tightly together and swallowed.
“It’s just that my husband surprised me with it, specifically for the wedding, a sweet act to express his appreciation.”
Ivy squeezed Berdie’s hand. “Bless them. They do try, don’t they?”
Berdie let a discreet chuckle slip through and Ivy joined her.
“And on another note, Mrs. Elliott,” Ivy joyously went on, “our little Duncan has been so pleased since Hero cat has become a part of our family.”
“You approved the adoption, then?”
“Oh, my, yes. The tattered creature saved a poor kiddy from perishing in fire. How could I not? Despite his previous owner now being locked away in disgrace, our little Hero is quite a celebrity.”
“I’m glad it’s all worked out so well.”
“Mrs. Butz, you’re wanted in the marquee,” Bridget McDermott called.
Ivy gave Berdie’s hand another squeeze and was off.
And much to Berdie’s chagrin, Mrs. McDermott wasn’t.
She approached, somber as a judge. “I say, bad form that.”
Berdie pulled her shoulders back. Bridget McDermott and hospitality weren’t often used in the same sentence at the best of times, but today it was absolute misery. The woman glanced at Berdie’s hat, winced, and then nattered on. “The cheek of it. Canceling a wedding three days before it’s due to take place.”
“Water under the bridge. You must let the current take your disappointment downstream.”
Mrs. McDermott nudged her decorative straw hat forward to keep the afternoon sunshine at bay.
“In fact,” Berdie proceeded, “I would think you should be well pleased that another couple have stepped in. Very accommodating and delighted with all that’s been put in place and no out-of-pocket for the church.”
“Fancy getting married at someone else’s wedding.”
Berdie realized her reasoning with Bridget McDermott was wasted breath. “Well, I’m happy for them. Though I had reservations to start, I truly believe they’ll enjoy their life together.”
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