The Name of the Rose Water Spritzer

by Emily Selby

  "When we were in your bedroom the night before Rose died, we looked through the binoculars, do you remember?" Josephine said, looking into her mug.

  "That was when we saw Frida by the huts, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. But I also saw another thing. There was a boat approaching the bay. It was already getting dark, but it looked familiar. Its sail was stained in a specific way. I hadn't seen it for such a long time."

  "Did you go to check on it in the middle of the night?"

  "That night, I couldn't sleep on account of that boat. It reminded me of some..." Josephine paused and looked away.

  Her eyes welled.

  "Something sad, maybe traumatic from the past?" Heather prompted.

  Josephine nodded. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. "Yes. I woke the middle of the night from a nightmare. I couldn't get back to sleep, and went for a walk. I took an old pair of binoculars with me."

  "Was the boat in the bay?"

  "At night, but it wasn't there in the morning."

  "I thought you went to the harbor?"

  "That's correct," Josephine replied. "When I didn't see the boat in the bay yesterday morning, I went to the marina in the harbor."

  "Was it there?"

  "It was. As it turned out, the boat had been mooring there for some time, under a different name. I wouldn't have recognized it if I hadn't seen the sail. But once I knew the new name, I found it." Josephine paused and took a long sip from her cup.

  Heather chewed on her cheek. She still struggled to make sense of what she'd just heard, but the tugging on her stomach was telling her she was drawing closer to the truth.

  "What's the name of the boat?" Heather asked.

  Josephine swirled the contents of her cup.

  "Calm Waters."

  "That's a nice name for a boat. Unless..." Heather paused. Was there a double meaning in it? "Is it something to do with the Waters family?"

  "It used to be called Mark's Waters," Josephine explained. "It's been in the family for at least two generations."

  "Are they in the fishing business?"

  "The Waters? No, Jon Waters has a fencing company." A tear rolled down Josephine's pale cheek. She wiped it with a tissue.

  Heather took a sip of coffee. A fencing company? Hadn't she read something about that recently?

  She ran through the memories of the previous couple of days.

  It was something she'd read not heard.

  But the only thing that she had read recently was The Name of the Rose. The couldn't be any fencing in their unless they meant a duel.

  No, as far as she could remember, there was no fencing duel in The Name of the Rose. There was a poisoned book. An old book.

  A sudden image popped in Heather's head.

  The clipping! The newspaper article.

  "I've seen this article about an accidental death due to a faulty electric fence somewhere in the South Island. That was long time ago. Was it Jon Waters' botched job?" Heather asked.

  Josephine winced. Her face paled even further. She tightened her grip on her cup, her knuckles turned white.

  "No, I don't think so," she croaked. She drained her tea. "Anyway, that's all I know. You can tell it to your fancy man, whatever you call him. I need some fresh air." She stood up quickly, placed the cup in the sink, and disappeared into her sleep-out.

  Heather took a swig from her mug.

  That was interesting.

  Even though Jon Waters seemed to have a solid alibi, according to James, the boat in the bay suggested he might have been in Dolphin Cove on the night Rose died.

  He might have left his car in Dargaville and driven here in a hired one. He would have no problems getting onto his boat and sailing around the coast towards the bay. If he had left the boat in the bay nobody would know. It was getting dark, people didn't really pay attention. He could have gotten to the shore in a dinghy and then walked to the huts.

  Killing his wife would have been child’s play: an isolated beach, on the cold spring night.

  The only two things Heather needed now were the motive, and the method.

  She could leave James to figure both out. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, but James didn't answer her call. Maybe he was still busy playing with Axel or driving back home.

  Moments later, the door to the sleep-out opened and Josephine appeared, dressed in slacks and a rain jacket.

  "Going to the harbor?" Heather asked, not hiding a note of sarcasm.

  "Maybe," Josephine replied and crossed the hall.

  "Why would he kill her?" Heather asked suddenly.

  Some of the comments Josephine had made during the previous couple of days suddenly connected in Heather's head. Josephine must have known the Waters family, and it looked like she must have had some bad experiences with them.

  "Why would he kill her?" she repeated.

  "Why are you asking me?" Josephine replied, grabbing the handle of the front door.

  "Because you know Mr. Waters, don't you?"

  "Maybe," Josephine replied tensing her jaw. "And even if I did, so what?"

  "Josephine, do you think he's capable of murder?"

  Josephine's face darkened.

  "I've no idea if he ever physically harmed anyone with his own hands. But his family are unscrupulous people. Operating in the grey zone. Not scared of using half-legal strategies to outmaneuver competitors or dupe subcontractors."

  "But his wife? She used to help him with the business, I heard. Do you think she might have known too much?"

  "That's an interesting suggestion. Of course, she would be someone who knew too much. And, I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few skeletons in Jon Waters' cupboard." Josephine frowned. "Literally."

  Heather's brain kicked into a higher gear.

  "Would you know if his company was in any trouble?" she asked.

  "I am not up to date with his business pursuits."

  Heather held her breath. Josephine could be so annoying with her reluctance to share information.

  "But you certainly know people who might know that?" she pushed.

  Blood from a stone...

  Josephine shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. She rocked back and forth on her heels.

  "All right then," she said and marched back to her sleep-out.

  Heather's heart was pounding. She jumped to her feet. There was still some coffee left in the pot, but the adrenaline was already humming in her system.

  If anything, she could do with a bit of calming tea now and coffee wouldn’t help.

  What was Josephine doing in her sleep-out?

  Heather circled a table a few times. She loaded the dirty dishes from sink into the dishwasher and put it on even though it was far from being full.

  She wiped the counter. Then she made a few more circles around the table.

  Finally, Josephine reemerged.

  "Here's the local gossip," she said. "For the past few months, Rose Waters had been behaving strangely. It's more or less what we have seen here. She became argumentative and driven. She was not sleeping, and she started meddling into a lot of things. Some people suspected she had developed a mental illness." Josephine raised her finger in the air. "Please be mindful, this view is tainted. The person I have just spoken on the phone to is not a fan of the Waters' family."

  Heather nodded.

  "So, the 'loving' husband encouraged her to take time off," Josephine carried on.

  "And travel to Dolphin Cove, right into the ongoing issue with Frida's company?" Heather asked. "Did the dispute over the painting holidays cause Rose to be so stressed?"

  "No, I think her problems started earlier. Maybe Frida's management style added to her already high level of stress. Or maybe Rose's behavior caused the problems with the management of Frida's company."

  Heather looked away. One of her former colleagues, back in New York, in the fashion industry, had faced a similar situation.

  "Too much stress can cause mental health probl
ems, which in turn, can cause further problems in relationships with other people, disturbed sleep and the like," Heather said, remembering her former co-worker.

  "That was what people in town suspected. It's unclear, but possible, that Jon had asked Rose to seek help, but she refused, insisting everything was okay with her."

  Heather mulled over the information before asking, "But even this was the case, is this enough of a motive to get rid of her?"

  "I'm not sure. But if she'd been blabbing as much as she was here, I can see why Jon Waters might have wanted his wife to be gagged."

  "What about? Issues with the books? The company's finances?"

  "The local grapevine is of the view that Jon's fencing company is facing financial pressure. Maybe because some deals had gone badly, maybe due to overspending, but the key is that he's probably been trying to hide the real issues."

  "And she discovered that he'd been cooking the books?"

  "It wouldn’t surprise me. That’s the way the Waters family has always operated. I suspect that Rose would have been involved in the process of the said cooking. However, with her recent change in behavior, Jon might have worried that she would blab. Alternatively, maybe given she had become somehow obsessed with doing the right thing lately, she might have ended up speaking to the police or the tax office about Jon's company."

  Heather plopped onto the nearest stool. Josephine’s story was making sense, at long last. A company with fraudulent activity, a trusted wife who was becoming unreliable, or worse – suddenly touched with a drive to do the right thing.

  "But would the financial fraud be big enough to warrant murder?" Heather asked.

  Josephine twisted her mouth. She looked lost in her thoughts.

  "To be honest, as much as I hate his family for what they've done, I'm not sure about that," Josephine said after a while. "But maybe Jon had something more sinister to hide."

  "Which would be what?"

  "You're the one with a vivid imagination," Josephine replied. "Take your pick."

  She twisted the door handle and walked out.

  Once again, Heather chewed on her cheek.

  Another murder? Was that it? If so, of whom? When? Why? How?

  She shook her head. She had no idea where to start.

  Obviously, Josephine had some more secrets she wasn't prepared to share. And even though Heather had known her roommate for little more than a month, she had already learned that if Josephine didn't want to disclose something, she wouldn't.

  It meant that Heather would have to use other, roundabout strategy to find out.

  This situation was just like being a journalist again, catching a whiff of a juicy story and following the trail all the way to its conclusion.

  Where she should start?

  Maybe with that article about electric fence deaths?

  11

  Heather ran upstairs and found The Name of the Rose on her bedside table. She flickered through the pages until she found the article she'd used as a bookmark.

  She read it again.

  Sadly, only first names of the children and their ages were mentioned, without any further details. But she did have the name of the journalist and the name of the newspaper.

  Heather jumped on her laptop to do some research.

  A couple of hours and a few phone calls later, she had the name of the town and the name of the company who erected/built the fence.

  She now faced a choice: a trip to the library, probably in Whangarei and search through its archives or confront Josephine.

  From what she'd gathered, the fencing company involved in the death of the children had belonged to Josephine's father. The incident coincided with Josephine's family moving north. Since Josephine had implied the relocation had been forced on her family, it suggested to Heather that it might not have been a simple coincidence.

  Josephine’s comments about Jon Waters' dirty tricks on his competitors, implied there might have been some rivalry involved.

  All in all, Heather could not deny that Josephine now looked suspicious.

  She had been out the night Rose died, walking on the beach. She knew about Rose's painting habits. She had been secretive, and she hadn't told the police everything she knew.

  Had Josephine caused Rose's death?

  Heather closed her browser and ran down the stairs. She knocked on Josephine's door

  "Josephine, are you in?"

  There was a long silence and a shy 'meow'.

  She knocked again.

  "Josephine, open up, please. I know about the incident with the fence."

  Her heart was hammering, her mouth was dry. What if Josephine did kill Rose? Heather had learned from the many mysteries she had read that killers rarely stopped at one victim.

  What if her roommate and employee wanted to get rid of an inconvenient witness, namely, Heather Hampton?

  Some shuffling and squeaking ensued.

  Heather stepped back. She stretched her neck, listening.

  Heavy breathing.

  What if Josephine was armed? Even with a stupid kitchen knife?

  Josephine was pretty good with knifes, chopping or filleting fish.

  "Are you there, Josephine? Can we talk?"

  The cat meowed again. The kitty had saved her life before, so maybe that was a good sign.

  "What do you want?" Josephine called, her voice horse and muffled.

  "Just to talk. Can you tell me what really happened?"

  "I don't think it really matters now."

  "Let me be the judge of that."

  And the police...

  The door opened with a screech. The cat jumped through the gap and trotted towards his bowl.

  "You've been spending some time with Kea? I mean, the kitten?" Heather corrected herself.

  "A little,” Josephine replied. Her face was puffed and florid. She had her glasses on, a sure sign she'd been reading again. "So, what do you want to know? What did you find out?"

  Heather told her about her discovery.

  Josephine crossed her arms tight, as though she was hugging herself. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

  "Would you like some water?" Heather asked.

  Josephine shook her head.

  "The fence was fitted by my dad and the people who worked for him. My dad was really good at his job. I'm absolutely certain it was built properly. At the time, our only competitor in the area was Mark Waters, Jon's father.

  "At the time, the Waters' business wasn't very successful. Basically, Mark Walters was thinking of either folding the business or moving away from the area. They would have to sell a lot of stuff. So, they were trying to hold onto whatever they had very badly."

  The humming in Heather's head intensified. Cold sweat gathered on the nape of her neck.

  "And your dad's company would be the most natural buyer of whatever was left, I guess. Probably quite cheaply."

  Red blotches appeared on Josephine's pale face. "No, no, Heather. You've got it all wrong," she said, her voice trembling. "I know that's what it looked like – a failing competitor, and my dad buying him out. But Mark Waters didn't like losing. He played dirty."

  Thick fog started to swirl in Heather's head. What was Josephine trying to say?

  "But you said the fence had been put up by your dad's company."

  "That's right. And everybody knew it. The fence should have not been erected in water. Someone had put it in there."

  Josephine was staring at her, breathing heavily.

  "Mark Waters?"

  "Not sure if it was him in person. His family, and his employers were like the mafia. I'm sure he had people to do the dirty work for him."

  "People he trusted?"

  Josephine nodded.

  An invisible hand grabbed at her gut and twisted it. Heather winced, and her jaw dropped.

  The fog on her brain lifted completely.

  "His son? How old was Jon at the time?"

  "He's two or three years older than me. H
e must have been seventeen or eighteen."

  "How would Rose know?"

  "I suspect he told her. Maybe when drunk. Maybe it was long time ago."

  "And with her becoming less reliable recently and unable to keep secrets, it would have been a big threat to Jon." Heather fanned herself with her hand. She was onto something. "You must talk to the police about this. They have to know."

  "But Jon has a rock-solid alibi, doesn't he?"

  "They always say that, and then something comes up and alibi ... Puff... Disappears into thin air. But you have to tell them about it."

  Josephine clasped her hands together tightly.

  "Have you considered the fact that I might be a suspect in the case?" she asked.

  Heather's cheeks burned. "Actually, I have. But what would be your motive?"

  "You're the detective, you figure it out. So far you've done quite well."

  Oh, for heaven's sake! Why are we playing that game again?

  "Okay, Josephine. Let me think. Revenge? So, you killed Rose, and then tried to point the finger at her husband."

  "Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

  "It depends. And you did that because you saw his boat in the bay?"

  "That makes sense too, doesn't it?"

  Josephine tilted her head and stared at Heather from above the glasses.

  The dreaded head teacher's look.

  Heather winced.

  "It sounds like a good hypothesis, dear Watson," Heather said lightly. "But you didn't kill Rose, did you?"

  Yeah, right... Whether she was a murderer or not, there was only one answer. A person capable of murder was also capable of lying to cover their tracks.

  "You realize there is only one answer I can give you?" Josephine chuckled. "As a person capable of murder, I would also be capable of lying through my teeth with the straightest of faces."

  Heather smiled.

  "I see we're on the same page, Watson. So, we have a suspect now. How do we convince the police to recheck his alibi?"

  "Why don't you talk to your fancy man, dear Sherlock?" Josephine fired back

  Heather opened her mouth to protest, but theories started to form in her head and she didn't need the distraction right then.