Auf'd (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Two)

by Amy Saunders

  "Or vice versa," Belinda said. "If Brooke is running around using aliases, she has something to hide."

  "So maybe something went awry with the deal or plan," Victoria said, "and that's why Brooke wanted to hide Mrs. Sykes."

  "Brooke told me we were all in danger with Mrs. Sykes blabbing though." Belinda shook her head. "I need to get back to the boat before worse things happen here."

  Victoria held up her purse. "What are we waiting for?"

  Belinda drove them back to the Portside Harbor Marina. It was past dark now, and she hoped no one noticed and thought it odd she showed up twice in one day with her parents out of town. Especially at night. She could always go out on her own—she had a crew to call upon to man it if she desired—but it was still odd for Belinda. But it was too late to do anything now.

  "So you stay here," Belinda said, unbuckling, "with Baby Hart and keep a lookout. Call if you see anything untoward. If unsafe things start going down, drive off without me and get help."

  Belinda smiled and headed back down the same ramp and docks she had earlier, only without the weight of a live person. She walked casual, hopped on board, and unlocked the sliding door. She peeked inside, flicking on the lights, and stopped to listen. Nothing happened, so she kept going, flicking on lights as she moved down to the staterooms.

  She inhaled to steady her pulse before opening door number three, the stateroom they'd plopped Mrs. Sykes into. Belinda opened the door slowly, peering through the crack, until she could reach the light and walked inside. She stared at the empty bed. Empty bed. Panic filled her gut. What had Brooke done?

  Belinda checked all the other staterooms and ran back up to the main deck to make sure she wasn't there and Belinda missed her. Gone. Mrs. Sykes was gone! She texted Victoria and went back to the original stateroom to look for any evidence she hadn't dreamed the whole thing. But when she looked closer, the comforter was rumpled and a stray hair or two, long and blonde, graced the pillow sham. There was no blood or anything else gross, so more than likely Mrs. Sykes was alive.

  Except that April Arteau had been smothered to death.

  Belinda swallowed. Then the boat rocked. Victoria? No, it couldn't be. Victoria had just texted back for Belinda to get back to the car. But that wasn't an option now.

  She quietly shut the door and turned out the light. It might buy her a few minutes anyway. She could hear feet padding around the carpet. She grabbed a way old fashion magazine in one of the night table drawers (probably hers—this was her stateroom) and rolled it up, psyching herself up to make a run for it.

  She wrapped her fingers around the knob and held up the fashion magazine in the other (it was a thick special edition), shaking her head at how utterly nuts this was. On the count of three, she was swinging it wide open, like pulling off a bandage.

  One. She steadied herself, gripping the magazine tighter.

  Two. She mentally traced her way back to the outside deck.

  Three. She prepared for fight and flight.

  Okay, so she technically opened the door on four. But that's beside the point.

  Belinda ran. She never considered herself a good runner. She felt clunky and awkward when she ran, and doubted she'd make it far in a race. But when you think someone might kill you, running becomes a whole new sport.

  She escaped the reaching out hands of her intruder, not even wavering, and made it up the carpeted stairs with the sliding door in sight. Still gripping the magazine with one hand, she yanked on the annoying inlaid handle, barely able to keep her fingers on it long enough to make progress, but it wouldn't budge. They'd locked it.

  Panic and Belinda trying to unlock a door was not going well. She couldn't get the small piece of metal to move. Salt water is wonderful until it mixes with your metal lock.

  She could feel a human presence and whirled around, her cheeks hot, heart beating wildly, and her magazine held high. She was getting off this boat one way or another.

  "Hi," Bennett said, his mouth pinched in a suppressed smile.

  Belinda collapsed against the glass door, which squeaked as she slid down to the floor, dropping her magazine.

  "You moved faster than I thought you would," he said. "I don't even think you saw me."

  "You locked the door!" Belinda's voice cracked. "You scared me to death!"

  "I didn't lock it."

  "Yeah, you did." She jammed her thumb up at the lock. Bennett shooed her away from the door and without touching the lock, pushed the door open a crack. Belinda scrunched up her nose. Jerk. "What are you doing on my boat anyway?"

  "Tailing you. You've been looking for trouble lately and I'm trying to help you avoid it."

  "By scaring me to death?"

  "I didn't mean to do that."

  "And it didn't occur to you that with everything going on it might frighten me to have someone randomly show up here and shut the door and not say anything?" She was about to go into a tirade about Mrs. Sykes trying to dose her with epinephrine when she realized—oh, yeah. I helped kidnap her and now she's missing and might be dead.

  Bennett did his hybrid head wiggle-nod move in acknowledgement. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to freak you out."

  "Well, you did!" She picked up her five-year-old special spring edition magazine and hurled it at him. With her nerves all bunched up, he only had to lean slightly to the left to avoid it. It didn't even faze him. He just launched into more questions.

  "What were you doing here? At night?" Bennett's eyes grew suspicious. Belinda would need to tread this one carefully, but she had no prepared story in mind and with the scaring and the not-locked locked door, her mind was totally blank.

  "I was thinking of using it—the boat—sometime soon and I wanted to check and see what we have here." Not bad on the fly.

  "So you came here now. At night."

  Belinda wrinkled her nose, still sitting on the floor. "I've been busy."

  "You brought Victoria."

  "Dan's working at home tonight and she was tired of having to be silent so she asked to come with me." So far, so good. Adrenaline can work miracles.

  "You told her you were coming here?"

  "We were chatting on the phone and yes, I told her." Belinda rolled her eyes, still steaming that he scared her so badly. "We're best friends. We tell each other stuff."

  Bennett paused before asking his next question. "Why is she waiting in the car?"

  Stupid observant man! "I was only coming in for a quick peek. There was no point in her coming too."

  Satisfied for the moment, Bennett offered his hand and helped her to her feet. "Go home, Kittridge," he said gently.

  "So you're going to tail me everywhere I go?"

  "Very possibly."

  Belinda looked at him warily. "So if I leave here and, say, go get dessert in town, you'll follow us?"

  "Yes."

  "The weather's nice and there's people about. We might decide to walk around a little before heading back."

  "Go ahead."

  "Then there's always the billiards place. They stay open late."

  "I could use a beer."

  Belinda chewed on her bottom lip. Was it just her or were they getting back to normal? He was bantering with her and his eyes—there was a glint in the center like he was enjoying this. That hope she felt at the police station. It was blossoming.

  Bennett adjusted his hand, taking hold of hers more firmly. "Are you ready to go?"

  Belinda nodded and after killing the lights, he walked her back to her car, leaning in to say hi to Victoria. And he called her Victoria, not Mrs. Hart. Another good sign.

  "I was serious about the dessert," Belinda said out the window.

  Bennett smiled. "I had no doubt." He knocked on the hood of her car and walked off toward the street.

  Victoria raised her eyebrows. "What's going on there?"

  Belinda's fear had slowly been replaced with butterflies. She felt giddy. "I think he likes me again."

  Victoria clapped. "What's he do
ing here anyway?"

  "What else? Stalking me."

  "Well, naturally."

  "I'm not sure." She glanced in her rearview mirror. "I still think he's up to something, but he's definitely watching me."

  "So she's not on the boat."

  Belinda pursed her lips, coldness seeping into her bones again. "No. There's no signs of a break in or struggling or anything."

  "Then she may very well be fine."

  Belinda heaved her purse out of the backseat, and dug out the sticky note with the numbers Brooke had texted to Sawyer. "What do you think those numbers belong to?"

  Victoria read them, taking a second to mull over the possibilities. "A pin number? It looks like a pin number."

  "For a debit card or something?"

  "Could be. Or, you know cars and sometimes buildings use them." Belinda's eyes lit up and Victoria regarded her suspiciously. "Are we about to do something illegal?"

  Belinda smirked. "I have an educated guess about whose apartment this opens. But we can't find out until much, much later. I need to make sure Bennett won't follow us."

  Chapter 21

  In the wee hours of the morning, after both of them went home and pretended like they were done for the night, Belinda and Victoria walked quietly from the park toward Brooke's studio apartment on a side street.

  Belinda hoped, though doubted, that they would find Mrs. Sykes alive and well in there. But Brooke's apartment was the only starting point she had. If nothing else, maybe she could wring Brooke's neck until she told her what she'd done with the woman.

  Like most of the downtown part of Portside, her apartment was on the second floor of a row house. Some were cranberry red, some were white. Some were wood, some were brick. This one was royal blue wood—a favorite color of the town. Maybe because of the sea just blocks away. She checked the doorbell outside marked with Brooke's last name and stepped onto the one-way street to try and see into the apartment. It looked dark.

  "Do you see her car?" Victoria whispered, her head swinging both directions, down the line of cars parked on that side.

  Belinda shook her head and pulled out the paper, jabbing the keypad numbers on the door handle. Green lights. So Sawyer knew Brooke's keypad number. She wondered if he ever actually came over.

  They tiptoed up the stairs just inside the entryway and leaned their ears on Brooke's door, listening for signs of life. Belinda jiggled the knob and slumped. Locked. She had no plan beyond the outside keypad. This was so not her week!

  Victoria stuck her hand all the way to the bottom of her purse, coming up with a bobby pin. Victoria shooed her to the side, and Belinda watched as she jangled the bobby pin and the knob, when something clicked. Belinda froze and Victoria looked up from her crouched position on the linoleum and broke into a grin.

  "You are going to have awesome stories to tell your baby," Belinda said in wonder. "When on earth did you learn to do that?"

  "Remember that time right after we both went to college?" Victoria said.

  Belinda nodded in understanding. "Ooohhh."

  "Yeah. Let's just say figuring out how to pick a lock that night saved my behind."

  The door creaked slightly as it opened and Belinda took a cautious step inside after peeking. She signaled for Victoria to wait in the hallway while she investigated. A few seconds later, Belinda waved her in.

  "No Mrs. Sykes or Brooke," Belinda said once the door was closed. "Not that I expected her to be here."

  They stood in what was basically an entryway, living room, kitchen, and bedroom in one. No wonder Brooke had never invited her over. Brooke was gone, not a big deal. But her apartment was barren. Frighteningly barren.

  "It looks like someone just moved out," Victoria said.

  Belinda's gut wrenched. The apartment did look abandoned, especially once they opened up the cabinets and drawers and found...nothing. Had Brooke skipped town with Mrs. Sykes? Or...worse? Maybe Brooke planned for Belinda to go down for Mrs. Sykes' murder.

  Victoria looked back at her from the window. The yellowed white shade was pulled. Brooke hadn't even hung up a curtain. She had made the twin bed squeezed against the wall opposite the door. The baby green comforter was folded back with a matching scalloped sham on the pillow. But that was the only sign they hadn't just been transported back to Communist Russia.

  "It looks like she planned on leaving soon," Belinda said, fingering the sham. "Like she was prepared to flee if necessary." It made the whole situation even more bizarre and disturbing. Maybe all of this was planned out. Brooke killed April and then somehow Mrs. Sykes got in the way, or knew too much, so she killed her too and ran for it.

  "You think she's on the run?" Victoria quirked an auburn eyebrow.

  Belinda imagined the twitchy girl with the glasses when she asked her about Bennett. And then the assertive, self-possessed woman who kidnapped Mrs. Sykes. Which girl was the real Brooke? Or were they both her depending on the situation? "I don't know."

  "What about Sawyer? If they're together, he could be helping her." Victoria yawned. "Maybe he knows about Mrs. Sykes."

  "You're right." As tempted as she was to bomb in on Sawyer in the middle of the night, Belinda was catching the yawning virus, and she knew they couldn't get into his inn that late without causing a fuss. First thing in the morning, though, Sawyer was getting a visit.

  First thing in the morning, it occurred to Belinda that Bennett just told her he was tailing her. Everywhere. Considering that things with Bennett could get normal again, she didn't dare risk going to Sawyer's inn alone. First thing in the morning or no.

  Plan B, which she didn't technically have earlier, was to call Jonas. But then she thought about the whole kidnapping Mrs. Sykes business and realized she would have trouble getting around that one while explaining why she thought Brooke was the killer.

  On to Plan C (also brand new). Call Brooke again for the fun of it, though she hadn't returned any of Belinda's previous calls or messages, and figured with the whole apartment abandonment thing, Brooke might not respond to this one either.

  Plan D. She could beseech Finnegan for help again. Though how to explain she knew what she knew without telling him about Mrs. Sykes?

  She was wondering how many alphabet-letter plans you could make up before it got ridiculous, when Victoria knocked on the kitchen window and waved. "Little pig, little pig, let me in!"

  Belinda threw open the door. Victoria waltzed in looking perfect with her eyeliner done and a light orange jacket to keep the chill off. Belinda hadn't even showered yet. "What's up?" Belinda gratefully accepted the white bag and coffee cup Victoria offered.

  "I realized this morning that it's tough for you to tail Sawyer if Bennett's tailing you." Victoria lifted herself onto a stool at the island.

  Belinda stuck her nose into the bag. Heaven. Absolute heaven. "I realized that, too." She inhaled the scent of scone, then pulled it out of the bag and snapped off a corner. "I also realized that I can't call anyone, even Jonas, without telling them what I did. It's kind of a big snafu on my part. I wasn't thinking clearly after my incident with Mrs. Sykes. I should have told Brooke to get lost and just called the police like I wanted."

  Victoria popped a loose raisin in her mouth. "I've got it covered."

  "How?"

  "A decoy." Victoria grinned. "We drive out in your car, find a hidden spot to switch places, and you walk over to Sawyer's inn."

  That did sound exciting, but they were talking about trying to lose Bennett. Belinda shook her head. "I appreciate the idea; it's good. But even if we could shake Bennett, which I really don't think we could, I would rather end up in jail at this point than have him discover I did all of that to visit Sawyer."

  Victoria pried the lid off her coffee cup, steam curling out of it like a genie escaping from its lamp. "Maybe you should just tell him then."

  "Tell who?"

  "Bennett!" Victoria smacked her arm. "If anyone can help you, it's him."

  "I know that, but..." Be
linda closed her eyes. "I feel so...so stupid. And if anything's happened to Mrs. Sykes..." She took a shaky breath. "It's partly my fault. I should have just called Jonas."

  "You can't go back now. You were upset and confused, okay? Just call Bennett." Victoria handed her the phone.

  Belinda took it tentatively. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm positive." Victoria rubbed her arm. "He's trying to help you. Let him."

  Before she lost her nerve, Belinda dialed. She counted the rings to calm down, her voice rising an octave when he answered and she said hello. Trying to explain herself proved interesting, especially since she didn't want to divulge what happened over the phone. But he agreed to meet her immediately, which she took as a good sign.

  Victoria smiled in triumph and left her to get ready. Belinda changed twice, much more obsessed with what she wore than she knew the situation called for. She was about to tell someone she'd helped kidnap Mrs. Sykes. Did it matter if she wore the cuter polka dot top with the cropped cardi and risk freezing, or the more practical knit shirt with a light jacket? But when she looked in the mirror and thought of Bennett facing her instead of her reflection, yes, it did matter.

  So she rummaged and pulled on a knit top she liked better but that still worked with her jacket and left the house.

  She thought she got there right on time, but Bennett was already waiting for her in his SUV at the garden nursery just up from her house. It was quiet, and she could look and see what potted flowers might look nice outside the carriage house. They made small talk at first, walking through the plants and flowers arranged on the ground, the wooden tables, and hanging from the rafters. They were both looking for flowers.

  "We're running out of small talk about plants," Bennett said. "You want to tell me what's going on that you wouldn't say over the phone?"

  They wandered toward the back where it was more remote, and Belinda launched into a summary of the previous day's events, including going to Brooke's after hours. Bennett didn't take his eyes off her, but she found it difficult to meet them, and kept dodging to look at the flowers, or a bee buzzing, or the rock near her foot. Despite how fast it had all happened, it took quite a while to get through the story.