Janine Marie - Rigging a Murder 01 - The Single Shoe Mystery

by Janine Marie

  I shook my head.

  “Okay, you forced me into it,” she muttered, as she reached behind her, grabbing and propelling a surprised John forward into the room.

  He looked at us, then back at Wiffy in apparent shock, clearly wondering why he had been suddenly tossed in with us.

  “Georgina?” He stammered in surprise.

  “Get me that shoe! You moron!” she growled at him.

  “Oh,” John turned and walked the few steps to me to grab the shoe, but I anticipated him and moved the shoe out of his reach.

  I had taken a Kung Fu self-defense classes with Katie a couple years back, and I was pleasantly surprised as it all came back to me. As he tried again to reach the shoe that I had moved behind my back, I stomped on his foot; when he automatically looked down, I karate-chopped him in the neck, at the same time bringing my knee up between his legs; he doubled over, moving his hands down to his crotch, and I poked my fingers in his eyes.

  He fell back, crashing into the engine behind him, then crumbled to the ground crying out in pain, one hand clutched to his eyes, the other to his crotch.

  I realized that in the fight I had dropped the shoe and turned to see Trent holding it.

  “Trent: bring me the shoe,” came the command from Wiffy.

  “Don’t, Trent!” I cried.

  To my surprise he looked down at the shoe, then carefully handed it back to me.

  Wiffy glared at him. Then shaking her head in disgust, she leveled the gun directly at me.

  “As entertaining as this all is, I’ve had enough. Janeva, give me the shoe.”

  “Why, you’re not going to shoot us, are you?” I said, trying to call her bluff. This turned out to be a mistake.

  She arched her eyebrows, then casually moved the gun a slight two inches and fired. Blowing John’s head into many, many, pieces… brains, skull, and blood flew everywhere, what a mess. Staring in shock at what had been John’s head, all I could think how come in TV and movies it’s a clean hole? And Will I ever sleep again? plus My ears are ringing.

  Taking advantage of my dazed confusion, Wiffy stepped into the engine room, stepped over John, and grabbed the shoe out of my unresisting, shaking hands. I looked up at her. My senses were slowly starting to come back, especially if I didn’t look at the bloody ground or the gore-splattered engine behind me.

  Wiffy continued to walk backward toward the door, still keeping the gun leveled at me. Trent was now curled up on the floor fetal style, his hands over his head, whimpering.

  “You killed Lorenzo!” I screamed.

  “That was regrettable,” she replied calmly.

  “Why?” Trent asked looking up. The question surprised us all, including Trent himself.

  “As you are both dead anyway, I might as well tell you” she boasted.

  “Pretty boy John over there—” she laughed a strange strangled laugh as she continued. “He’s not so pretty now, is he?”

  She waved the gun at him, then said, “Lorenzo was a genius and had come up with a new computer chip that will revolutionize computing as we know it. My job was to get that chip. You see, what makes the chip so valuable is what is saved on it—confidential plans, computer code, and architecture detailing how to mass manufacture and implement the chips itself, plus a new product utilizing the chip technology that will revolutionize the credit card industry…. It was a tricky job because Lorenzo is very careful and kept this chip in a custom flash drive that he plugged into his computer to work on.”

  “How did you get it? I thought Lorenzo always kept his office door locked,” I interrupted.

  “Oh aren’t you the clever one. You’re right on both points. I recruited John to create a distraction so I could get into Lorenzo’s office. Of course John was perfectly positioned as he was a guest on the yacht and flirted shamelessly with Catherine when Lorenzo wasn’t looking.”

  “Clever!” I said with admiration… I needed to keep her talking.

  “I thought so too. I had John create the distraction by drugging that trophy wife of Lorenzo’s. I was the one who went to find Lorenzo in his office to tell him that Catherine needed him, so when Lorenzo ran to help Catherine, I was perfectly positioned to slip in the office and grab the chip.” She smiled like a proud mother; clearly she was proud of her plan.

  She turned to leave.

  “So if you had your chip, why did you kill Lorenzo then?” I asked in a rush. I had to keep her talking, it was my best chance and I refused to give up! Katie was young and she still needed me!!

  “He caught me… at his computer… trying to get the chip out of that damn flash drive he had it in…. I had to kill him,” she said calmly.

  I looked over at Trent, who looked more confused than usual, then turned back to Wiffy, shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders. “I still don’t see why you had to kill him—since you had the graphene chip,” I ventured.

  “Even if I could have talked my way out of being in his office on his computer stealing confidential information, how would I have gotten the computer chip in the shoe?” she replied sarcastically, as though it should have been obvious to me. Then suddenly the light dawned. “WAIT… how did you know the chip was graphene?!” Wiffy yelled in alarm.

  Glad my “tactical slip” had done its job, I asked quickly, “What’s with the shoes? Very James Bond, but I don’t get it. Wouldn’t it have been easier to put the computer chip in your pocket?”

  A gunshot whizzed past my head, narrowly missing Trent.

  I put my hands to my ears; they were ringing with the echo of the gunshot in such a small place. Trent curled himself back into a small ball.

  “The shoe was Stella’s, one of a pair that were a gift to her from John. I had them specially designed to hide the computer chip so that she would unwittingly carry it through Customs. Then John would exchange the shoes with mine and I would extract the chip so I could deliver it to Max.”

  “Who is Max?”

  “Damn!” Wiffy yelled. “I shouldn’t have said his name—but no matter, you’re dead anyway,” she said, laughing that crazy evil laugh again.

  “But what went wrong?” I said quickly, still stalling for time.

  “Oh you are one for details, aren’t you?” She smiled a cruel smile at Trent, and then to him she said, “Men, that’s the problem: MEN! John gave me the wrong shoe! Really! I know he was holding out for more money…. Foolish man: you see what happens when you cross Max.” She pointed her gun at John’s mangled head. “But now I have the right shoe and all is well.” Here she lifted the shoe up for us to see.

  “But why? Why are you stealing computer chips and shoes? I don’t understand,” Trent asked quietly.

  “Didn’t you every wonder where the money came?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, so neither Trent nor I answered.

  Wiffy continued. “I refused to live groveling to your mother for every penny… so I started using your connections to steal corporate secrets for Max. He pays very well indeed.” She laughed a manic sort of laugh that sent shivers down my spine.

  Looking at her watch she suddenly snapped, “Enough talk!!”

  Shaking my head, not sure how I should respond but knowing that Thomas would find me if I just kept her talking, I asked, “So now that you’ve told us everything… are you going to shoot us now?” I was surprised at how calm my voice was.

  Wiffy smiled and said “No,” pointing the gun at us and smiling with only her lips. The effect was to crinkle up her glaring eyes, making her look totally crazy. “I can’t leave any evidence this time. When you two idiots were running around the boat I was installing a bomb. It’s hidden deep in the bilge. Ha ha,” she laughed, in a creepy, insane sort of way, then continued, “I’m going to trigger the bomb with my cell phone… in just a few minutes, ah yes, I will be sitting on the clubhouse deck enjoying a nice glass of Chardonnay, waiting for my sweet husband to join me, when this lovely yacht blows.”

  Squealing an evil, deranged sort of squeal, that came ou
t like Eeeee, she added, “Of course he can’t join me as he’s is trapped on this death yacht with you.”

  Staring at us, she giggled a schoolgirl giggle that was even scarier than the gun and said, “What a field day the club gossips will have trying to piece together what you four were doing on the boat when it exploded. Catherine was having an affair with John; everyone’s guessed that, but was the perfect Janeva sleeping with John too, or with Trent? Or were they having a ménage a quatre? For your sake I hope you didn’t draw Trent, he is such a bore in bed; John on the other hand was… mmmm, quite lovely. It’s such a shame that he had to go and fall for Catherine; can you believe he really wanted to marry her? So much so that he pushed his wife in front of a train so he could be free. Agggg, men are such fools. Look at the time; I must go now. Ta ta.”

  “They will catch you, you will be the first person they investigate after the bomb,” I said defiantly—anything just to keep her talking.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve been very careful; every indication will point to this being a accident caused by a generator fuel leak. I know how to do these things, I am an engineer after all…. It’s so sad for you that you had to get involved. Such is life,” she finished with a smile, and then slammed the door shut.

  I was moving before the door closed, in a desperate last-ditch effort to get to it before she locked it, but as I first had to step over Trent, and then nearly slipped on some blood as I jumped over John’s body, I was too late.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “Janeva, Janeva!” Thomas banged on the locked sliding-glass cockpit door of the Atlantis. “Steph, keep banging on the door; Greg, you go up to the fly bridge, and I’ll try the side doors.”

  The three met again on the aft deck. “All locked,” said Greg.

  “Maybe Janeva is not on the boat?” Steph inquired.

  Then they heard the gunshot.

  “What was that?” Steph asked, “It sounded like…”

  “A gunshot,” Thomas and Greg said simultaneously.

  “Break the glass,” Greg suggested. Looking for something strong enough, he picked up one of the deck chairs and threw it at the glass door. The chair broke into pieces but the glass didn’t break.

  “Shit, it’s marine-grade glass, made to survive storms and crashing through waves. Most yacht owners keep a spare key,” Thomas said, looked around him. “Where would Lorenzo keep his?

  “Hanging plant? No. Under the seat? No. Bar fridge? Locked under propane heater? No. Tucked in the hand of the Italian sculpture? YES!”

  Opening the door, the three ran into the yacht. “Let’s split up,” Greg suggested.

  “All that’s left of this floor is the main cabin and media room. Steph, you and Greg go there, then meet me on the lower level!” yelled Thomas as he ran toward the stairway mid ship.

  Five minutes later the three stood in the small lower-level landing, having searched all the cabins. “What’s left?” Steph asked.

  “Engine room and crew quarters,” Greg said, pointing aft. Thomas ran through the yacht to the engine room door and wrenched at it.

  “Damn, it’s locked too.”

  “Can’t we break it down?” Steph asked.

  Thomas and Greg both turned to stare at her incredulously. “NO! Its reinforced fireproof steel with soundproofing insulation on the inside,” Thomas moaned in frustration. Then, “There will be a key on the bridge,” and he ran off.

  “We’ll check the crew quarters,” Greg yelled after him as he grabbed Steph’s arm, dragging her after him.

  The crew quarters were unlocked and vacant, so that left only the locked engine room. Greg and Steph had each looked in one of the two crew rooms, then together the small crew galley, then turned and ran back to the engine room.

  “You found a key,” Greg said unnecessarily, as Thomas worked to put the key in the lock. Opening the door they were stunned by the horrific gory scene that met them.

  “Thomas,” Janeva cried and ran into his arms.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Later! We need to get off this boat: it’s going to explode!” Janeva yelled, turning to go back and grab at Catherine, who was still unconscious. “Help me!” she cried, and instantly the spell was broken as Thomas and Greg ran into the crowded room, pushed Trent out the door and into Steph’s arms, then together lifted Catherine between them. Janeva helped pull Trent to his feet and she and Steph dragged him off the boat to the dock.

  “NO!!! Don’t stop! Keep going—Go, Go, Go!” Janeva yelled to Greg and Thomas, who had been about to put Catherine down to ascertain her injuries.

  “She needs medical attention,” Greg was saying, “and is anyone else on board? What about the crew?”

  “She will need more, as will you, when this boat blows up beside you!” Janeva yelled back at him from the end of the dock. Exchanging a look that said That’s a bit far-fetched, but then again, John’s head has been blown off, “Better do as she says!” Thomas directed, and together he and Greg grabbed up Catherine’s limp body and ran after Janeva, Steph, and Trent.

  “No one else is on the yacht, the crew left by taxi. NOW RUN!” Janeva screamed at Thomas and Greg. “Faster!”

  BOOM!

  The boat exploded, as predicted, throwing all six to the dock.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Some time later, after the firefighters had arrived first on the scene, and the ambulance had taken Catherine to hospital and treated the rest of us for shock, we were interviewed by the police.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, looking up to see detective Luke Smythe, the same young policeman I’d met after the break-in and fatal stabbing at Lorenzo’s office on Friday. Today was Sunday. Was that only two days ago? So much had happened.

  He motioned for me to take a seat; we had been whisked off to police headquarters for hours and hours of interviews. There was so much to tell. Fortunately, Detective Luke Smythe was a thorough and diligent detective, so after the break-in at Lorenzo’s office he had contacted the Canadian police to verify Catherine’s and my Princess Louisa murder story.

  “Did you find Wiffy… I mean, Georgina? Has she been arrested? She said she was going to trigger the bomb from the Yacht Club deck,” I asked as soon they finally stopped drilling me.

  “We have searched the area and have a APB out for her arrest. She must be hiding out somewhere. Your husband and Greg Writeman are convinced that she couldn’t have escaped from the yacht when they were on board.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  A week later, late at night on the Carleton Bridge, two figures walked unnoticed along the pedestrian sidewalk of the bridge. The usual steady flow of vehicles had subsided to a car every few minutes, plus the bridge was connected only to a small island that housed many small residential houses whose owners were asleep.

  “What rock have you been hiding under?” Max asked.

  “Oh I have my bolt holes, here and there,” Wiffy replied.

  “You think because you finally blew up the yacht that you finished the job?” Max inquired of Wiffy, who had been looking pleased with herself.

  “Yes, of course; they are all dead.”

  “Did you stick around to see?”

  “No, there wasn’t time; I had to jump off the boat into the disgusting marina water, I swam to shore, triggered the bomb, then I went home to shower. I was freezing!” She shivered at the memory. “But I left the shoe with the flash drive in it for you in your club locker, as we agreed before I left.”

  “Catherine survived, they all survived,” snarled Max.

  “Fuck me! Okay, I will take care of her and the rest.”

  “It was the wrong shoe!”

  “WHAT! NO! Damn it! I didn’t have time to check the shoe!” Wiffy stammered, looking frightened. “What did you do? What happened?”

  “You made my life very, very difficult! Fortunately, I’ve been manipulating my board of directors for years and was able to buy myself some time to fix some ‘bugs’ that had come up in de
velopment. But I NEED that chip,” hissed Max. “Where is the chip, Georgina?” he growled.

  “I, I think that bitch Janeva might have it… she knew it was graphene.”

  Shaking his head, Max asked her softly, “What is that over there?” Then, as Wiffy leaned in to hear him, he took a quick look around to ensure that no one was in sight and dropped his keys. As he bent down to pick them up, he instead grabbed Wiffy’s legs and casually but quickly propelled her over the bridge. Not into the water, where there might have been a chance she could survive, but over the concrete. Max picked up his keys and was already moving off the bridge before she crashed down to the concrete below. This bridge was notorious for its suicides, and clearly Wiffy had had all the reason in the world to kill herself.

  EPILOGUE❖

  Life Goes On

  Recovering in hospital, Catherine found she was drawn to Stella’s bedside. The two women spent many hours talking together and found that their memories of John formed an unlikely and unexpected bond between them.

  Between collecting the yacht insurance on the Atlantis and, after the product launch, selling Dexia to one of Max’s shell companies—which was of course a convoluted trail of numbered shell companies that could never lead anyone to Max—Catherine was, as Max had predicted, a very wealthy woman.

  So Catherine and Stella joined forces to open the “Caress Beauty Salon.” It was an immediate success since Catherine could afford to hire the best talent, combined with her Yacht Club connections and her impeccable taste and proven hostess skills. Catherine ran marketing and promotion while Stella ran the day-to-day operations, having been a sought-after hair stylist before she met John.

  Trent didn’t fare as well. Unfortunately for him, his mother decided he wasn’t able to look after himself and moved him back into the family home where she could look after him properly.

  As for Janeva and her family, with the graphene chip still in hand, murder and intrigue continue to follow them. They decide to join other Yacht Club members for a club cruise and regatta in the BVI’s (British Virgin Islands). Teaming up again with Greg and Steph, they are once again into drawn into a mystery that pulls them from island to island as they sleuth out a killer and Max hunts them in his quest to recover the missing computer chip.