by Liv Spector
Right before breakfast, Lila had heard him on the phone, asking his secretary to book a private plane back to New York for the following day. “I’ve wasted enough time bending over for the wrong fella,” he had said, loud enough for anyone to hear.
“Jack,” Seth Liss said, standing up, his large belly encased in a garish Hawaiian shirt, white sunscreen making his face look ghoulish, “I wish you all the best on this momentous occasion.” Seth had a wide smile across his face. Jack looked at him warily.
“What are you smiling about?” Jack said.
“Can’t I celebrate my good friend’s birthday? I’m here with a bunch of fine folks in a beautiful setting. How can I not smile?” Everyone around the table regarded Seth with confusion. He’d spent the entire trip in a foul mood, but now he seemed cheerful. Lila wondered if this was the killer taking delight in toasting his soon-to-be-vanquished enemy.
“Happy birthday, Jack,” Senator Clarence Baines said. He stood up, and so did his wife, Charity, who was wearing a stars-and-stripes shift dress. They both lifted their juice glasses to Jack. Even though they were on a boat in the middle of the sea, neither Clarence nor Charity’s hair moved in the ample ocean breeze. “We toast you, Jack. It’s patriots such as yourself that make America the exceptional nation it is. Charity here and I are honored to be your guests on such a special occasion. We want to thank you for your kindness and your generosity. When people ask me why I’ve spent my life fighting like a dog, standing up for my beliefs every day on the Senate floor, I tell them that I’m fighting for my country’s future. I’m fighting so that men like you, Jack, can have all the freedom you need to achieve your dreams. If men like you fail, we all fail.”
Clarence’s voice was full of emotion and power. He was clearly more moved by his own words than anyone else was around the table. Jack looked at him with dull eyes and a slack face. Now that the kibosh had been put on the Peregrine acquisition, the senator was no longer of any use to Jack. But Clarence still needed Jack’s money and his connections to wealthy donors, so the balance of power between them had been seriously disrupted. And they both knew it.
Clarence, not sensing that people had stopped listening, continued. “History has shown us that if you have a government that supports risk takers and celebrates achievement, and says go out there and do whatever you can, that is what makes us prosperous—”
Thiago jumped up in the middle of Clarence’s speech. “Yes,” he said, talking over him. “Yes. Thank you, Senator, for your inspiring words.”
“You can say that again,” Daniel Poe scoffed. Lila thought he rolled his eyes, but it was difficult to be sure because of the mirrored sunglasses he was wearing. He stood in his usual spot away from the table by the guardrail, where he was enjoying a typical breakfast of hand-rolled cigarettes and a beer shandy to wash down the orange Adderall capsules he kept popping.
The senator, not used to being so rudely interrupted, slumped back in his chair. His wife gave him a consoling pat on his arm.
“Jack, you and I met when we were just boys, both outsiders in a place where being an insider was the only way to succeed.” A nostalgic look fell over Thiago’s face as he recalled the past. “You were a tough kid back then. As tough as you are now. But then you had brains and nothing else. And I was a foreigner, made to feel like an outcast because of who my father was.” A flicker of disgust danced across Thiago’s face, which he quickly replaced with a smile. “But look at us now, here, today. Harvard begs us for endowments. Our old classmates envy us, dropping our names to elevate themselves. We have won, Jack, you and I. We have won. So, cheers to you. And happy birthday!”
Everyone around the table held up their glasses to Jack, who sat there glumly.
“Have I won, Thiago?” Jack said as his eyes swept around the table at all the faces looking at him.
“What do you mean?” Thiago asked as he sat back down in his chair.
“It’s just, on days like today, a man takes stock of his life. And I’ve got to say, I don’t like what I see. If I’ve won the war, then why do I always feel like I’m fighting? I have to battle with my shareholders and my board. My own CFO is my rival,” Jack said, pointing to Liss, who gave him a curt nod. “My wife can’t stand me. And then I got this in the mail yesterday when we were docked in Miami.” He whipped a manila envelope down the table, where it hit Josie on the cheek.
“Ow, Dad!” she exclaimed, rubbing the thin red mark on her face. The moment she looked at the envelope, the color drained from her face. “This is Asher’s handwriting,” she said.
“Sure is,” Jack said, his voice bitter. Lila knew what was coming. The hundreds of pictures and hours of videos that Asher had taken of Josie were finally coming to light.
“What is it?” Josie asked tentatively.
“Like you don’t know,” Jack said.
“I don’t know, Daddy. Tell me.” Josie’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Well, my dear daughter, your beloved knight in shining armor Asher sent me a thumb drive with a few choice images of you two together. And let me say, I’d give anything to erase those pictures from my mind. My own daughter, posed like a whore.” A glistening of tears came to Jack’s eyes but he quickly blinked them back. He was not a man who’d let anyone see him cry.
“No!” Josie screamed, covering her face with her hands.
“There was a video, too. I only saw one second of it. The whole thing is sickening.”
Josie let out a loud, soul-wrenching groan.
“He hinted that there’s a lot more where that came from,” Jack said.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”
“Some kind of birthday present, huh? Getting tied up? Is that what you learned at all the expensive private schools and summer camps we sent you to? Is this how you repay us for giving you everything?”
“Jack, please,” Elise said. “We can discuss this privately.”
“Why? What’s the point?” Jack asked. “Soon enough the whole world will see every inch of my little baby girl. Why should I hide it from our closest friends?”
“What does he want, Jack?” Paul Mason said, in a tone that was all business. At this point Josie was loudly weeping, her head on the table, her hands pressed against her ears.
“A million bucks,” Jack said.
Clarence Baines gasped at the sum. “Outrageous! That’s extortion, Jack. Plain and simple. We should notify the police at once.”
Lila saw Daniel Poe smiling grandly in the corner, loving every second of this debased scene. Lucky for him, no one else seemed to take note of his obvious glee.
“You know what I think? I think this little bitch is in on it,” Jack spat, jabbing his finger in Josie’s direction. “I think the two of them are extorting the old man for a million dollars. But I won’t give a goddamn penny.” He leaped up from his chair, lunging toward Josie. “You hear me! You tell Asher that he won’t get anything from me. You think I care if the world sees you for the whore you are?”
Josie began to convulse with tears. Her mother rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her daughter. “How dare you, Jack?” Elise said slowly, the hatred in her voice undeniable. She spoke every word through clenched teeth. “You have no right to pass judgment on her or on anyone.” She guided her daughter up out of the chair. “Let’s go, honey. Mommy will take care of this.”
“Want to know how Mommy takes care of things?” Jack called out after them as he sat back down at the head of the table. “With a sedative and a Scotch. So, good luck counting on her!”
After Josie and Elise left, the others sat in a stunned silence.
Lila stood by the door observing everyone. She had suspected Josie of being the killer, but then crossed her off her list once she returned to the yacht after her arrest. But now things had changed dramatically yet again. Josie had been humiliated and abandoned�
�this time by her father, who had no compunction about calling his only child a no-good whore.
“See,” Jack said to Thiago, an artificial calm overtaking his voice. “I wouldn’t say I’ve won anything. And you know what?” He got up and threw his napkin down onto his half-eaten breakfast. “I’m done fighting.”
Once everyone was gone, Lila and Sam cleaned up the detritus from yet another fraught meal.
“Is it just me or are these the most dysfunctional people that’ve ever existed?” Sam wondered as she carefully stacked the gilded china plates on top of each other. “I mean, I thought my family was screwed up. But compared to the Warrens, my mom with a drinking problem and my brother with PTSD are like a total cakewalk.”
“Listen,” Lila said. “Have you seen the new woman who came on the boat in Miami?”
“The crazy one?” Sam said in a hushed tone as she raised her eyebrows into curious half circles. “Edna told me to ignore her. But it’s strange, right? She’s just, like, been in her room without any food or anything? And I think I’ve heard her crying.”
“So have I,” Lila said. She’d passed by the door obsessively all day yesterday, many times hearing her sister weeping or sniffling. She was even more worried when she didn’t hear anything. And she felt guilty for not being able to help Ava, for what happened yesterday afternoon with Ben, and for feeling totally lost in a case that had slipped out of her grasp . . . if she ever had a hold on it in the first place.
“I did see Jack go in and out of the room a bunch of times while I was vacuuming the hallway, so I guess she’s his latest concubine. Good luck to her,” Sam said sarcastically.
“Does that mean you and Jack are done?”
“Are you kidding? He won’t leave me alone. Once men get a taste of me, it’s over.” Sam suggestively shook her hips as she pushed the dining room chairs back under the table. “It’s a blessing and a curse. But that witch Edna is always up my ass, so it’s been impossible to slip away. Besides, last night his bed was empty. He was probably breaking in his newest acquisition.”
That meant Jack must have spent the night in Ava’s bed. The thought of it absolutely sickened Lila. How could her sister fall for such a toxic asshole? And how could Ava expect the affair to end in anything but disaster?
By the time Sam and Lila were done cleaning up breakfast, it was ten o’clock. Lila didn’t have much time. Despite the horrific mood of everyone on the boat—except for Daniel Poe, who seemed to be reveling in the Grand Guignol theatrics of the Warren family—Jack’s birthday dinner was still happening. It was just eight hours away. And seven hours after that, four shots would ring out as someone shot Jack Warren.
However, after Jack’s death, no one on the yacht would be able to confirm the exact time that Jack was murdered, or the precise location of the boat. Apparently Paul found the blood on the deck sometime around 1:00 A.M. He asked Nash to radio for help shortly thereafter. That meant Lila had about an hour-long window during which the murder might happen. But she had the advantage of knowing exactly where the murder would take place.
She’d assumed she would’ve been further along in solving the case by now. But never in her wildest dreams did she think that so many people could have so many reasons to want Jack Warren dead. Since she still wasn’t sure who was going to kill Jack, and she’d be unable to tail all her suspects throughout the night, she needed to put a fail-safe plan in place. If it came down to it, she needed to watch the actual murder happen. So she headed to the exact spot where Jack would soon die, to make sure she’d be able to see his murder unfold when the time came.
As she walked up the exterior staircase to the rear of the second level, she saw Ben coming down. Despite her totally focused state of mind and her ever-shrinking window of time to catch a killer, she couldn’t help feeling the pulse of desire deep within her. Just laying eyes on Ben made her mind flash to yesterday’s encounter—his hands on her body, his weight against her, the memory of how good he felt inside her came crashing into her mind.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her toward him. She let him do it. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since yesterday.” He kissed her lightly on the lips as his hand gently traced the contours of her breast. Just as the other hand began to slide down her body, over her ass, and then up her inner thigh, they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly pulled away from each other.
It was Edna, of course. It was always Edna.
The chief stewardess looked at the two of them and seemed to know instantly what they had been up to. “Nicky,” she said sternly, “there’s much to do before dinner tonight. And I won’t warn you again.”
“Ever get tired of being such a battle-ax, Edna?” Ben said, giving Lila a playful hip check. Lila didn’t understand how Ben got away with giving Edna a hard time. It seemed like everyone else on the yacht feared her.
“That’s right, Mr. Reynolds. Some of us have to actually work for a living. It must be quite confusing for you,” Edna said as she pushed by Ben and Lila, her back stiff and her chin jutting haughtily out.
“I work for a living,” he said with an exasperated tone. “I mean, no one can do what I do, just ask Nicky, here.” Then he slipped his hand under Lila’s skirt and up between her legs. She jumped away from his touch. As far as Lila was concerned, the moment was over.
“Nicky. No dillydallying,” Edna yelled over her shoulder as she walked down the stairway.
Once the chief stewardess was out of sight, Ben grabbed Lila. “She’s gone,” he whispered into her ear. But Lila wriggled out of his embrace impatiently.
“Not now,” she said. “I’ve got to go.” Without looking back, she dashed up the stairs, took a left at the side deck, and arrived at the very spot where Jack Warren soon would die.
She surveyed the area, as she had done thousands of times since she’d boarded The Rising Tide. It was a tricky spot. She looked at the sight lines. It would be impossible to lie in wait for the murderer on the deck; there was nowhere to stake out the place without being spotted. Her only possible vantage point was up in the captain’s bridge. From there she’d be able to finally find out who killed Jack Warren.
Standing in the very spot that would soon be covered in Jack’s blood, Lila went over her plan for that night yet again, staring absently at the Caribbean Sea. For all its beauty, she thought, the ocean was a brutal, dangerous place, filled with creatures preying upon one another just underneath that serene surface. And it was the same for all the people on this boat. Under the resplendent veneer, they were all ravenous sharks, ready to devour anyone foolish enough to get too close.
CHAPTER 24
JACK’S PARTY WAS a complete success, though soon enough, no one would remember it in the shadow of his death. The scandals, betrayals, and subterfuge that had poisoned the mood over breakfast seemed to float away on the salty Caribbean winds as everyone sat down to dinner. The food came out course after perfect course. Even Lila had to marvel at the exquisiteness of the meal she was serving. Chef Vatel had really outdone himself. But only he would later have any recollection of what was served.
He’d planned the menu for months, refining each dish until it was flawless: a single oyster, fried perfectly, resting atop a circle of brioche; Patería de Sousa’s legendary foie gras brightened with a splash of aged balsamic vinegar; sea-urchin pasta with a dollop of Russian caviar; risotto with white truffles flown in from Italy; Japanese wagyu beef cheeks slowly braised for hours in a hearty Barolo, all perfectly paired with priceless glasses of wine.
Even the table was a work of art. Candles encased in handblown hurricane lamps cast a sumptuous amber glow. The flower arrangements dotting the table were gorgeous, anarchic compositions that looked as if they’d been ripped out of an eighteenth-century Dutch still-life. Branches of wild honeysuckle were intertwined with orch
ids the deep yellow of egg yolks. The papery skins of the red poppies interspersed throughout the bouquets caught the candlelight, creating a fiery flicker on the edges of the night.
But all Lila could think about were the seconds counting down to Jack Warren’s murder. She watched Jack carefully. He looked like he was the happiest man on the planet. Little did he know, with each exquisite bite, how quickly he was moving toward his own death.
His guests were also enjoying themselves. Quick to laugh, quick to groan with pleasure over the food, the wine, the ocean rolling beneath them. The only rival to the beauty of the sea was the magnificence of everyone’s clothes. The women were all breathtaking in ornate gowns and perfectly coiffed hair. Josie was wearing a clingy, iridescent silver gown with her hair slicked back into a high ponytail and a thin string of diamonds hanging from each ear. There was something very powerful in her countenance that night as she breezed around the deck with a glass of champagne in hand. It was as if that morning’s tears and humiliation had only left her stronger and bolder. Perhaps she found power in having nothing left to lose.
Wearing a cream-colored, one-shoulder silk sheath that hugged her thin, toned body, Elise Warren looked like a goddess. Her delicate wrists were wrapped with white-gold-and-diamond bracelets and her dark brown hair was elegantly drawn back into a chignon at the nape of her swanlike neck. Gone was the speech slurred with pills and alcohol, gone was the snarl and the snap of her biting words and withering glares. Now she was like an ice queen, dolled up in white and diamonds, impervious and grand.