Mermaids of Bodega Bay

by Mary Birk

  “How did you know about me and Marisol?”

  Andrew couldn’t think of any reason not to tell about the records. Should he tell him that the police probably already had them? Though who’s to say they actually understood from the records, as he had, who Lenore’s father had to have been. Reid had read the diary. Would Reid have realized what the records meant? He prayed to God he had.

  He took a deep breath. “There was a copy of Marisol’s hospital records in Lucy Shearling’s things. They said Lenore was full term. I put it together. I wasn’t here when Marisol would have gotten pregnant. You were the only man she talked about in her diary during that time—and you did her pregnancy test, and made sure I had plenty of opportunity to think I had fathered her while you were safely out of the way in Corfu. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Will nodded. “You never appreciated Marisol. You left her alone all the time. If I’d had her, instead of this bitch,” gesturing to his wife, “I’d have taken care of her.”

  Rita said through her dry, cracked, and swollen lips, “Tell him the truth, Will. You and Marisol didn’t have an affair.” She looked over at Andrew. “He raped her. He drugged her and raped her—and Lenore. And he killed Lenore. I found the keys to your house in his study. The ones that were missing.”

  Will hit his wife again, this time with his left fist while keeping his gun hand steady. “Shut up! Marisol wanted me. I knew that. I could tell from the way she looked at me. I had to keep her just sick enough so I could have a reason to see her often.”

  Andrew controlled himself. “The French vitamins?”

  “Yeah, then she told me her period was late, and I could tell her breasts were tender. But, as you know, her periods had always been irregular, part of the legacy of the rigorous physical regime she’d had as a dancer. I knew she was pregnant, but I told her the test was negative. I would have put her asleep and given her an abortion but Rita made me go at the last minute on that trip to Corfu. I could have given Marisol something and gotten rid of it without her ever knowing she’d been pregnant. When I realized there was no way I could get it done before I left, I went for the second best alternative, make her think it was your child and just deal with the premature thing when the kid was born.”

  “Her name was Lenore, not the kid, Will. She was Lenore.” Andrew couldn’t keep his voice from showing his raging anger.

  Will ignored him. “And, of course, by the time we got back from Corfu, Marisol was sure she was pregnant and she thought it was your child. I tried to give her something that would make her abort, but she was too far along, and it didn’t work, so I decided just to let things go on. Then, when the baby was born, I was at that stupid charity thing that Rita dragged me to in San Francisco.”

  Andrew thought about all the trouble Marisol had during the pregnancy, probably caused by the drugs Will had given her to try to cause a miscarriage. But Marisol had held on to that baby—held on until she died.

  “Didn’t you know that Marisol was bound to go into labor about then? You knew the real dates.”

  “Of course. But I could hardly tell her,” Will nodded towards Rita, “that I had to be on hand for the delivery when the baby wasn’t supposed to come for at least another six weeks. I was just hoping it wouldn’t be that weekend.”

  “But it was.”

  “That almost did me in. The idiot doctor that stood in for me told Marisol that Lenore wasn’t premature.”

  Andrew was puzzled. “No one told me.”

  “Of course not. I took him aside and told him that Marisol had a lover, and that, of course, she didn’t want her husband to know, so not to say anything. She was the patient after all, not you. But Marisol realized what it meant. She was starting to remember—she must not have been entirely unconscious some of the times when I was making love to her. I had to stop her from telling. I couldn’t lose everything.”

  Andrew’s stomach turned. He forced himself to stay calm. Will was insane. But as long as he was talking, they were alive. “So what did you do to Marisol to make sure she wouldn’t tell?”

  He looked away briefly. “I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t hurt her. I loved her. I just injected her with a little air bubble. She didn’t feel anything.”

  Andrew closed his eyes to control his shock. Until that moment, he’d had no idea that Marisol had been murdered. He had believed that she had a stroke after childbirth—and he’d continued to be friends with the madman who killed her.

  “I tried to make it up to you,” Will said.

  Andrew struggled to understand. “What do you mean?”

  “When you told me that Anne was going back to her husband and that if it hadn’t been for him she would have married you, I tried to get rid of him for you. I waited for him across the road from the café. But it was dark and my shot went wide. I saw him reach for his phone so I had to get out of there before I could finish the job.”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted to get Anne back like that, Will.”

  “If you love Anne the way I loved Marisol, you wouldn’t care what it took to be with her. You’d do anything.” Will turned back to Rita. He seemed to be contemplating what to do with her.

  Rita glared at her husband. She looked groggier, but her anger seemed to be keeping her eyes open. “Show him the photographs, Will.” She motioned with her head to the counter and Andrew could see a brochure of some sort.

  “Shut up. Those are mine.” Will moved towards her, pulling back the hand that held the gun as if to strike her.

  Andrew spoke up quickly, trying to distract him from hitting Rita. “I still don’t understand why you had to kill Lenore.”

  “The tests for the kidney transplant. I was afraid you’d find out you weren’t her father and figure out it was me. I couldn’t take the chance. Rita would have divorced me if she’d found out about me and Marisol.” Then he turned to his wife. “Tell him, Rita, tell him about the prenuptial you made me sign. You loved having the upper hand. It was always your money, not ours. That’s not a marriage. I was your paid stud. I looked good on your arm. God, it got harder and harder to service you. It was just so hard when I hated you so much. And for your information, Marisol wasn’t the only other woman.”

  His voice took on a false confiding tone. “I managed to find a lot of other women who were discreet, who had as much to lose as I did if they were discovered. It’s not hard. Most of the good ones are married, as you know, Andrew.” His expression turned sad. “But Marisol was the only one I loved.”

  “Tell him about Lucy Shearling, Will.” Rita didn’t bother to hide her contempt. “Tell Andrew why you killed her.”

  Will made a face. “She isn’t important. She was a whore. She’d heard Marisol talking with me when Lenore was born, so she knew I was Lenore’s father and knew I wouldn’t want Rita to know. So she teased me about it and we had sex sometimes. But then she wanted me to leave Rita for her. She got fixated on getting married and said if I wouldn’t tell Rita I wanted a divorce, she’d tell about Marisol and about us, so that Rita would divorce me anyway and I’d have no choice but to marry her. She was so stupid. I wouldn’t have married her if she were the last woman alive. I had to get rid of her. She didn’t know what I’d had to do to Marisol, but I was afraid if she told about me being Lenore’s father, someone would figure it out.”

  Andrew wasn’t interested in hearing about Lucy Shearling right now. “What about Lenore, Will? She was your daughter.”

  “I never thought of her like that.”

  “So you raped a child but it was okay because you didn’t think of her as your own? What in God’s name are you saying?” Andrew could no longer try to play along to get the man to talk. He needed an answer.

  Will looked surprised at his friend’s vehemence and shook his head. Then he went on, explaining away how he committed the most heinous crime a man could commit. “She looked so much like Marisol.” Tears filled the doctor’s eyes. “I miss Marisol so much.”

  “You raped Lenore be
cause she looked like her mother?”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I always put her to sleep first and it didn’t happen that many times. Then, when I knew I couldn’t wait any longer to get rid of her, one more last time. What a waste of a beautiful girl.” He shook his head sadly, as if what he had done had been somehow unavoidable.

  Andrew was so angry that he could hardly sit still, but the tranquilizers were making it hard for him to think, let alone move. “She said that doctors hurt her. I didn’t realize what she meant. God forgive me for not understanding.”

  “No way. She didn’t know. She was just a little sore after the first time. Nothing serious. I went too deep and, well, you know, her cherry broke.”

  Not caring about the gun anymore, Andrew lunged for the man. To kill him.

  A deafening roar echoed through his head and his chest exploded.

  Chapter 80

  ANNE KEPT trying to call Andrew back after he hung up, but her calls went to voicemail. She quickly brought the dogs inside. He’d said not to call the police. So she did what she’d wanted to do in the first place. Called Terrence.

  When he answered, she hastily recounted what Andrew had told her. She could hear Terrence relaying the information to someone in the background. Then he said, “Listen, Anne. I think Andrew’s right. It’s a long story, but it looks like Kempton killed Lenore, and probably Lucy Shearling and Gus Warren. Maybe even Marisol Grainger.”

  “What?” She’d definitely been left out of the loop.

  “I don’t have time to talk, lass. We’re on our way to the marina. I’ll call you when there’s news.”

  “I’m coming,” she insisted. “I’m closer, I can get there faster.”

  “Anne, please, no. It’s dangerous and there’s nothing you can do to help.”

  “I can warn him. I can’t sit here and just let him get killed.”

  “Just stay where you are. All you’ll do is make the situation worse. I have to go.”

  Anne put down the telephone. God, how was she going to stand the wait? She glanced at her watch. How long would it take for the police to get to the marina? At least fifteen minutes, she guessed, and she wasn’t even five minutes away. She needed to warn Andrew, to get him away from Will. But Terrence said to wait.

  Everything would be fine, she was sure. Andrew would know not to do anything to set Will off, wouldn’t he? She shook her head to herself. No, she didn’t know if he would or not. She was sure he’d never been in this kind of situation. But Terrence said to wait.

  She glanced out of the window. It was so dark. This house felt too big when you were by yourself. Then her phone rang. She said hello, but there was no answer. She could hear voices, but they were garbled. She looked at the display. It was Andrew’s cell. Finally she could make out his voice and some of what he was saying, but he wasn’t talking to her. Will had a gun and it sounded like he was pointing it at Andrew. She dialed Terrence’s cell, but it went to voice mail. He probably wasn’t getting reception. Frustrated and worried, she threw on her coat, got in her car, and tore down the road to the marina.

  Four minutes later, she saw Andrew’s car parked in the back row of the marina parking lot. The only other vehicle was Will’s Mercedes. Lights were on in the Kempton’s boat and music was coming from inside. She got out of the car and ran down the dock ramp to the boat, hoping fervently that Terrence and the rest of them would be there soon.

  Anne carefully boarded the boat and leaned against the door of the cabin, trying to make out what the voices inside were saying. She could hear Will’s voice, then Andrew’s voice. Then Will said something else she couldn’t catch. There was a loud noise, like an explosion or… a gunshot. Alarmed, she slowly opened the door to see if she could see what had happened. Then her head jerked back and she was pulled roughly into the cabin.

  *****

  Stunned, Anne felt an arm tighten around her neck and something hard at the side of her head. Certain it was the gun, she tried to remain as still as possible so it wouldn’t go off again. Across the cabin, she saw Andrew on the floor, bleeding, and she bit back her panic. Rita was on the couch with duct tape wrapped all around her and looking as if she’d been beaten. Anne tried to croak out a protest, a scream, but she could not make any sound louder than a gasp.

  She heard the door close behind her, but she couldn’t turn. The arm around her neck loosened.

  Will Kempton’s voice hissed, “What the hell are you doing here? Are you alone?”

  When she didn’t answer, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Answer me. Is there anyone else out there?”

  She struggled to speak, but his arm was too tight around her throat. She gestured for him to loosen his hold so she could talk, and finally he did.

  “I’m alone.” She wasn’t going to warn him that the police were on the way and risk panicking him anymore than he already was. “I just got here. I saw Andrew’s car and heard the music. I just thought I would come see what you were doing.”

  “Andrew told me you’d gone back to your husband. What are you doing coming looking for him now? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” He reached his hand into the back pocket of her jeans. He pulled out her cell and threw it in the sink, smashing it.

  Anne kept her voice calm. “I changed my mind. I decided I made a mistake and was looking for Andrew to tell him. I was driving by and I saw your lights on, and I saw Andrew’s car, so I thought he must be here.” Help would be coming if she could just keep him talking. How badly was Andrew hurt? She tried to see. “Will you let me help Andrew? It looks like he’s bleeding badly.”

  She felt Will hesitate, but he did not give in. “No, I’m going to have to tie you up, and then I’ll take us all for a ride.”

  “He’s your best friend.” She had to make him see reason. “Just let me try to stop the bleeding. You can decide later what to do, but if I don’t help him now, it might be too late.”

  He turned her partially around so he could look into her face. His own was sweating and desperate. “Okay, you can help him. But I’ll be watching you, and if you try anything, I’ll shoot you both.”

  “I understand. I won’t. I promise.” Anne hurried to the galley and grabbed all the towels she could find. She rolled the towels and pressed them to the wound on Andrew’s stomach, then grabbed blankets from the bed in the cabin and wrapped them around the rest of Andrew’s body to keep him warm and stop him from going into shock.

  Will sat down. He raked his fingers through his hair, as if he were tired and trying to think what to do next.

  She murmured soothingly to Andrew, then spoke to Will, keeping her voice casual. “Is there a first aid kit? I need gauze and tape and something to clean the wound.” She had no idea what she was doing. If she got out of this alive, she was going to take a first aid course.

  Will shifted his eyes around the cabin. “Not now. I have to get the boat away from here before someone else comes. If I can just get the boat out of here, then I’ll be able to think. I would have been fine if you and Andrew hadn’t shown up. I could have gotten rid of her,” he looked at Rita, “at sea. But now I have you two to deal with.” He focused on Anne again. “You’re sure no one knows you’re here?” His voice was almost pleading.

  “I’m sure. Why don’t you lock us in here and get the boat started? You’ve got the gun. What can we do?” Anne just wanted to get Will and the gun away from them. Where were the police? And Terrence? Hadn’t it been enough time for them to get here? Terrence had said they were on their way—it seemed like hours ago.

  Will appeared to consider her suggestion, to determine whether he could leave them alone. He went to the cabin’s radio set and tried to disconnect it, but nothing he did seemed to work. He opened one of the drawers in the kitchen and took out a hammer. He held it firmly and, with several quick strokes, smashed the radio. He reached into a cupboard, got a large plastic bag and opened the silverware drawer. He rummaged around, gathering all of the knives, then them in the bag.
He looked around to satisfy himself that they would have no other weapons.

  “I’m going to padlock the door shut from the outside. Don’t try anything or I’ll shoot all of you.”

  Anne nodded, then felt a layer of tension release when she heard the padlock snap shut. She looked over at Rita, who suddenly seemed more alert.

  Rita’s voice came out in a mumble. “Take the tape off me. I can help you with Andrew, and we have to get away. Will’s not going to let us live. He can’t.”

  “I can’t take my hand off the wound for long. He’s losing so much blood.” Gesturing toward Rita’s bindings with her head, she asked, “Do I need to cut it? He took the knives.”

  “There’s a scissors in the drawer over there. Grab it, and cut me loose quickly. There’s a first aid kit in the cubbyhole under me. I’ll get the kit while you go back and hold the wound.”

  Andrew didn’t seem to be conscious anymore. Anne went quickly over to the drawer Rita had indicated, got the scissors, and cut Rita’s hands and feet free. Without stopping to help the woman pull the pieces of tape apart, Anne rushed back to hold the towel against Andrew’s wound.

  The boat’s engines started up, lurching them forward. She tried to hold Andrew steady hoping he wouldn’t feel the pain from being jolted.

  Rita tore off her tape and went under the seat for the first aid kit. A little wobbly on her feet, she brought it over to Anne. “I may not be able to help much longer. He made us both take a shitload of tranquilizers with wine. Right now, I’m operating on pure mad. Here’s some antiseptic. Let’s start with that.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing. Do you?”

  Rita shook her head. “I think what you’re doing looks right. Staunch the bleeding. Then clean it.”

  “Where do you think he’s taking us?”

  “No idea. The yacht isn’t provisioned for anything but a short trip. I’d guess he’d been planning to dump me out there somewhere, but I don’t know what he’s planning to do now. He’s gone over the edge.”