Maizie Albright Star Detective 01 15 Minutes

by Larissa Reinhart

  "Dammit."

  "That's all you have to say? Dammit? Ed Sweeney's dead. In your truck."

  He glanced over his shoulder. "I'll grieve Ed Sweeney after you get the tape off, Miss Albright. We have a more pressing issue above deck."

  I turned my back to him, straddled his legs, and resumed cutting. His feet split apart, and I moved backward to work at his knees.

  Fingers tickled my butt, then stroked one cheek.

  I looked over my shoulder and shot him a "really?" look.

  "I was trying to feel what's in your pocket. It's digging into my thighs."

  "Shithead's big wrench." I accosted him with one of Julia's fierce glares, pulled the wrench from my pocket followed by its companion pepper spray and the pliers. "I have a fish knife, a wrench, and pepper spray. And a fishhook stuck in my knee. That's what I'm using to save you."

  An abashed smile crept over his hard edges. "I'm sorry. Thanks for breaking in and cutting me free."

  "You're welcome. And later you can thank Tiffany and Rhonda. They gave me a ride to the marina."

  "If we get off the boat, I will." His head dropped back to the nautical bedspread.

  I turned back to the duct tape, sawing faster. His knees pulled apart, and I flipped around to cut his elbows and hands free.

  "Hurry," he said. "That's the engine turning on."

  "Engine? This is a sailboat. They have engines? Don't they use sails? Why is an engine turning on?"

  "Don't panic. Just focus on the tape."

  "Not panicking," I said in a panicked voice. I dropped the knife against his thighs, picked it up, and gouged him in the elbow with the point.

  "You're doing fine. And you're not heavy at all."

  "Gee, thanks."

  "I'm being literal. I know you worry about that kind of thing. Just relax."

  “Relax?”

  "It's okay. She won't come below yet. She has to maneuver out of the marina first, then down the river. We've got time, considering."

  "Out of the marina? We're going out to sea?"

  I jerked the knife up, catching the point in the thick tape and rent a hole. Wiggling the knife through the hole, the seam split.

  Nash flexed his biceps and wrenched his hands apart.

  The tape tore, the boat jerked left, and I fell across Nash's back.

  He flipped over, pinning me under him on the bed. We lay there for a long moment, his hard muscles evident against my cushioning. I tried not to think of my lack of recent workouts. Nor my breasts squished against his firm chest. Or our other parts tangled together. On a wall-to-wall bed.

  Pushing up on his elbows, Nash hovered over me. "Don't be scared. I've been considering all the options while I lay here. She caught me by surprise just like she did you."

  "The old ‘hide behind the door’ trick? Is your head okay?"

  "It's hard enough." He tried out a smile, but couldn't quite make it work. "I feel like an idiot."

  "Me, too. But I usually do." I gazed into the pale blue eyes. "The police are coming. But we're getting away. What happens if we’re out at sea?"

  "The police will call the coast guard. It'll be okay. Breathe."

  My deep breath caused my chest to swell against his.

  He ducked his head to watch.

  I quickly expelled, but the air caught on the ball of misery stuck in my throat. "I was really worried about you." I blinked to keep the tears from my eyes. "I thought you might have been shot like Ed Sweeney."

  "At the time there were too many people around for her to shoot me. Probably planned on doing it out on the open water and dumping me over. Where's my truck?"

  "Near the boat slip. In an empty parking lot."

  "She must've had Ed move my truck then shot him there. Poor bastard. He thought they were going to escape to the Bahamas together. She's been siphoning BPG's money away for a long time with Ed's help."

  "Nash." The idea of him getting shot and dumped into the ocean caused larger tears to well. "The police are going to think you killed Ed Sweeney. And you'll be dead and dumped in the ocean."

  "The police are smarter than that." He rolled over and rose to sit next to me. He gently wiped a tear from my cheek and rubbed it between his fingers. "No tears, darlin'."

  I nodded and grabbed my thumb skin for a hard pinch.

  He watched my hands then contemplated my prone form. A faint smile touched his lips, softening his features. "How'd you get away from Boomer?"

  "I crawled through a doggy door."

  He flinched.

  "You're surprised I fit, I know. The pack wouldn't take turns, so Daddy put in an oversized flap. I barely made it through with all I've been eating— Sorry. TMI.”

  "I wasn't thinking about you fitting in the doggy door. It was the fact you'd crawl through it to get out." He gathered my hands in his. "I don't know if I should kiss you or kill you for being here."

  "Are you serious?"

  "What do you think?"

  I didn't want to think. Either one could be fatal. Well, one was definitely fatal. I changed the subject. "What are we going to do about Jolene?"

  "I don't know."

  "Shouldn't we come up with a plan?"

  "First things first." His gaze roamed over my hair spilling across the pillow, down my body to where our hands were clasped, and back to my face. "Which knee?"

  Was he into knees? That was a little weird. Still, heat zipped through me, despite our current circumstances. I blamed it on the wall-to-wall bed. "What do you mean?"

  "Which knee has the fishhook in it? We don't have a lot of time, but I can get it out. You'll be gimping about otherwise and that's no good."

  "My left one."

  His hands found the tear in my jeans, then ripped the hole wider. Grabbing the pliers, he cast me a long look. "It's really important you don't scream."

  I felt my stomach lurch into my throat. Before I could say anything, Nash had grasped the bend in the fishhook with the pliers, pressed it against my skin, yanked up and away. I gasped but felt little pain.

  "Good girl. Can't tell you how many fishhooks I've pulled out in my time. The only one I'd taken off a gal was Jolene. She screamed like a banshee." Nash reached toward the pillow beneath my head, ripped off a strip of the case, and held it against my knee to stem the blood. Turning back to look at me, his eyebrow quirked. "Anyone ever say you look a little like Jolene?"

  That was not what I wanted to hear. Particularly after fishhook surgery.

  "I thought you were just like her. At first anyway. Spoiled rich girls. Princess types." He ripped off another strip of the pillow case, looped it around my knee through the tear in my jeans, and tied it over the fishhook wound. "You know, expensive taste. High maintenance. Sex as a weapon. Nuclear weapon. But you're not exactly a Jolene."

  I gulped. "Jolene's a regular Mata Hari, isn't she?"

  A genuine smile lit his face, followed by a dreamy gaze that traveled to the ceiling. "She is. Lord, she tied me up in knots. If I ever had an Achilles Heel, it was goddamn Jolene Sweeney."

  Definitely what I didn't want to hear. Sliding back on my elbows, I pushed to sitting. "I'll do it if you can't."

  His eyes swept back to mine and he tightened the grasp on my knee. "Do what?"

  "Stop her. But you'll need to get her gun. I don't think I could beat anyone with a wrench."

  Confusion bit into his eyes.

  Jolene Sweeney had done a number on him. Enough so he felt helpless to stop our ruthless shanghaier.

  "Sorry to be cold, but it is self-defense," I explained. "She's already murdered three people. I'd rather you and I weren't number four and five."

  Nash snorted then scooted forward. He grasped my hand and pulled me down the length of the bed. "Maizie, Jolene didn't murder anyone."

  Poor, poor Nash. My wounded bird had been crippled by a true femme fatale. I couldn't help myself. I reached to stroke his stubbled cheek. "I'm sorry, Nash. It must be hard to hear this about your ex-wife."

  A
harsh laugh tore through him.

  I dropped my hand. "What's so funny?"

  "Jolene's not navigating this boat."

  "What do you mean? Who's up there?"

  “I thought you knew. Sarah Waverly."

  twenty-eight

  #peppersprazed #SavannahShanghai

  Nash rooted around the cabin for weapons, while I thought about the woman piloting this ship of doom. Sarah Waverly had faked her disappearance. I couldn't get over it. All this time I had worried about Sarah, then feared for Sarah, then grieved Sarah. Whereas she had been stealing from Black Pine Group and pinning her probable death on her husband. With Ed Sweeney. Who she murdered. And loosely framed Nash for it. Whom she also planned to murder.

  What a bitch.

  "Flare gun," muttered Nash, handing me a plastic orange pistol. "Hold this."

  "How are we going to stop her?"

  "We aren't doing anything. You're going to stay down here. Sarah doesn't know you're on board. I'm going to disarm her, then tie her up."

  "With what? Fishing lines?"

  "Duct tape." Triumphant, he held up a silver roll. "What's good for the gander."

  "Was she your gander?" I couldn't stop myself. "I mean, it seemed like you were kind of sweet on Sarah at one time. David Waverly thought so, too."

  "Miss Albright, your questions seem a mite irrelevant in light of our circumstances." An eyebrow quirked. "You also sound jealous."

  "This is not a jealousy thing. Sarah played Ed Sweeney. Did she play you, too?"

  With serious eyes, he winked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

  I did want to know. But it was a mite irrelevant. "So while I'm down here what should I be doing? Radioing for help?"

  "Do you know how to use an SSB radio? Marine single sideband?"

  I shook my head.

  "Me, either. If you don't know what you're doing, it's hard to find a frequency. Different bands have different ranges. It's not like dialing 9-1-1. You can play with it if you want, but you'll probably be wasting your time."

  "You're very discouraging."

  "I'm just being realistic. The flare gun will have quicker results this close to shore. People will see the flare, report it, and the Coast Guard will investigate. Particularly if the police already know about us. Wish I could find more flares, though."

  "So you're going to disarm Sarah, tie her up, then shoot the flare gun? Do you know how to pilot this boat?"

  "I can figure out how to shut off the engine. Maybe even drop the anchor. And you're going to lock yourself in one of the cabins. With your pepper spray."

  "You don't trust me. I saved you. Let me help. I'm sure I can shoot a flare gun."

  He cupped my chin and tipped it up. "You're worth a lot more than me, Miss Albright. It's better if I know you're safe down here. It'll be harder to subdue her if I'm worried about you getting hurt."

  "I'm not worth any more than you," I protested. "If we're being realistic, I'd make a better sacrificial lamb. Sarah Waverly could have shot me in your bathroom or run me down in Madeline's alley. But she didn't. Not to brag, but my murder would get major press and she'd have a harder time escaping."

  The Paul Newmans glinted and his hand slid off my chin to caress my cheek. "Not happening, Maizie."

  "I'm serious, Nash. Sarah's cold blooded. I saw what she did to Ed. That engraved Michele Watches was probably from him and she threw it out like trash. She left her own husband in the trunk of a car. She’s a lot more likely to shoot you than me. Sarah probably thinks I can't do anything to stop her. I'd have the element of surprise."

  "And how would you stop her?"

  "I still have some Kung Fu Kate moves. And my Tae Bo."

  "Exactly why you're going to lock yourself in a cabin and wait for me." His hand slid to the nape of my neck and he leaned in.

  Nash-might-kiss-me déjà vu flooded me. I clutched the flare gun in one hand and tilted my face up. The arctic blues met my sea glass greens, then dropped to my mouth. I flicked a tongue, moistening my dry lips, and heard Nash's quick intake of breath.

  He stepped into my personal space box, cradling the nape of my neck. The hand holding the duct tape ran light fingers down my bare arm.

  "Wish me luck, darlin'." His breath whispered across my cheek. "I could use it."

  “Vicki taught me that you make your own luck." I reached a hand between us and raised it toward his face.

  Then sprayed him with pepper spray, grabbed the duct tape, and ran up the galley steps.

  I truly was Vicki’s daughter.

  #

  I paused at the companionway door, barely able to hear the rush of water over the engine. Ambient light brightened the night, and I breathed a sigh. We were still on a river or in one of Savannah’s many channels.

  The port lights on either side of the door kept me hidden but lit Sarah, some ten feet away. Leaning slightly to one side with her gaze trained on the distant sea and her hand on the steering helm, she looked like a Ralph Lauren ad. Particularly as there was no handgun in sight, which would not be Ralph Lauren-ish.

  I glanced back to where Nash writhed on the floor, then cracked the door.

  There was no sneaking up behind her. I could dart out, but would have to maneuver around the cockpit table. The giant steering wheel stood between us, too. Not much room for a crescent kick or a Tiger-Crane combination.

  I had been totally serious about my Kung Fu Kate moves.

  With Sarah Waverly's positioning, there wasn't much chance of surprising her, except she wasn't expecting Maizie Albright. If Nash rushed out the doorway, she would shoot and be done with him, save the dumping of his body. However, there was a teeny possibility I could distract her. If I could lure her out from behind the big steering wheel, I could pepper spray her, pin her down, and duct tape the bejeezus out of her.

  I felt pleased to have a plan. Another Vicki moment.

  If only I was certain the plan would work. Which wasn’t very Vicki of me.

  Water ran in the galley sink. Nash washing his eyes. I had better hurry before Nash dragged me down the galley stairs and tied me up with the duct tape.

  The cockpit table looked promising. Sarah had left the hinged sides down creating a small, low blind. Shoving the flare gun into the back of my jeans, I pushed the door open a bit wider and crawled on the deck. With my eyes on Sarah, I moved hand-over-hand, feeling the fishhook hole with every drag of my knee. Her concentration on steering the channel meant she didn't notice my deck crawl.

  Her shoes gave me my opening line.

  I popped up next to the table, tossing the duct tape behind her GPS screen. "Are those Sperry's?"

  Startled, Sarah blinked at me, her hands still gripping the ship's wheel.

  "I mean, I've never seen plaid Sperry's. Aren't they cute? Not that I've spent much time researching boat shoes. I don't spend much time on boats. I kind of found myself on this one by accident. A Goldilocks moment, right? I was looking for Ed Sweeney. Didn't see him downstairs. I mean, below deck. Like I said, I don't really know anything about boats. Or should I call this a ship?"

  I moved forward as I chattered, allowing the babble to flow over my lips in typical Maizie fashion. Julia would have cut to the chase, announcing the gig was up in the snarkiest voice possible. Then shoot the flare gun, aiming just above her head to temporarily blind her. Kung Fu Kate would have done some kind of flip from the side bench to the stern, ending in a praying mantis hook.

  Maizie Albright babbled about shoes. But it was working. Sarah looked confused.

  "I know you're totally surprised to see me. Imagine my shock when you started the engine on this thing. I didn't even know sailboats had engines." I waved and gave her my best red carpet smile. "I'm Maizie Albright. I used to be on TV. Most recently on All is Albright. I quit that show, but they're still filming me. Very frustrating. Anyway, I've been on Entertainment Tonight and Extra a lot lately, although I don't know if you've had time to watch. You were featured a bit, too. At least, that's wha
t I heard. I haven't watched TV in forever."

  "What?" Sarah narrowed her eyes. "Where's Wyatt Nash?"

  "He's kind of incapacitated at the moment." True, although he wasn't tied up like Sarah thought. "It seems like you're in a hurry to get out of town, but could you drop me off somewhere before you head out to... Where are you going? Is it the Bahamas?"

  She didn't answer but took one hand from the steering wheel and slipped it into her jacket pocket.

  I continued my prattle, slowly moving toward Sarah. "I figured the Bahamas because that's where Ed sails. This is his boat isn't it, Sarah?"

  "I'm a co-owner." Her tone was clipped, but I believed it. Sarah didn't seem one to leave paperwork to chance.

  "I heard you used to sail with Ed before you and David moved to Black Pine." Thank you Bethann Bergh, Burlesque Wannabe and Queen Gossip of Platinum Ridge, for that bit of info. "You almost left David ten years ago. For Ed? Are you his SS Sarah? Is that when you two bought this boat? Not judging. It seemed like your marriage had some issues. I know about David's own boating rendezvous. That must have been rough to live with.”

  Sarah remained silent, but pieces of her plan began to fit together. I continued my chatter, waiting for my chance to pounce.

  “Did you hide out in the women's shelter when you went missing? That was smart. Nobody would ask questions or report you. They probably let you borrow the rusty car, too. I guess Ed picked you up at Black Pine Club and left you at the shelter. We found the suitcase you tossed near the shelter. He must have dropped your phone in the lake, too. I thought you’d been kidnapped."

  She angled her head, studying me. Her hand remained in the jacket pocket. As long as it stayed there, I didn't mind as much. Who would blow a hole in a J Crew windbreaker? You'd burn the crap out of your hand and your jacket.

  "Like I said, I was looking for Ed Sweeney. And Nash. Found Nash. And now I found you. What a shocker."

  I could tell Sarah wasn't sure if I knew about the murders or the embezzling, only that we’d been looking for her. She was trying to figure out what to do with me. I could almost see the gears whirring in her brain. I wondered if she had an "If Maizie Shows Up On My Boat" Plan B.