by Emily Selby
Heather smiled at Josephine's reaction. Her roommate was certainly quick on the uptake.
"That would be stupid, and I should warn you it's dangerous and illegal," James replied, crossing his arms once again.
"Yeah?" Heather asked, mirroring his posture. Her head was giddy. "And what are you going to do about it? Try to stop us!" she yelled. Her voice trembled.
Actually, she hoped he would...
"I'll think about it," he fired back. "But for now, I forbid you from doing so. You'll be breaking and entering, which is illegal." He paused. "And you might get killed," he added.
"Why would anyone kill us, unless they were guilty of something, like murder?"
James opened his mouth, but Heather didn't let him speak. Another crazy thought popped in her mind.
Her brain was on the roll.
"And how exactly could we be killed on a yacht without anyone noticing? Huh? Any ideas?"
James gave her a long look through narrowed eyes. He tapped his hand on his thigh. Axel swiftly appeared at his side.
"By being electrocuted with a low current delivered from something narrow you were holding between your index finger and thumb," he said over his shoulder, turning his back on them and marching away. "Her fingers were stained with paint afterwards... probably..." The last words disappeared in the noise of the waves crashing on the rocks. But that was enough to get Heather thinking...
Heather watched James' disappear behind the rocks.
"That was just rude," Josephine observed. "What a pile of hogwash that last comment," Josephine rambled on. "What was he thinking?"
'Hush, Josephine," Heather put her finger on her lips. "I need to think."
"Why are you telling me to be quiet?"
"Because it's interfering with my thought processes."
"What about?"
"The comment James made. What could it be? Something you hold in your hand, like that," Heather said and raised her hand, making a pinching gesture.
Josephine stared at her.
"A needle," she said. "A wire... Oh! A live wire, like in an electric fence," she added.
Heather nodded.
"Good thinking. But why would anyone hold a live wire in their hand?"
"Because they didn't know the wire was live."
"So maybe the wire was inside something ... disguised?" Heather looked at Josephine. "What could it be disguised as?"
Josephine's cheeks flushed. Her eyes shone, which made nice change...
Clearly, they were both on the roll.
"On a boat, you mean?"
Heather looked away. This was where her roll came to a sudden bump.
"Sorry, still no idea. But I have a hunch that the boat is somehow related to it. Otherwise, why would it be there only in the evening and have disappeared before the dawn."
"Yeah," Josephine chimed in. "Unless, they actually were fishing."
Heather clapped her hands. The sound echoed off the cliff face behind her back. A seagull squawked nearby.
"That's it! A fishing pole. What about a wire hidden in a rod?"
"Totally possible, assuming the whole electricity thing was done the proper way. If I remember correctly, your body needs to act as a conductor, so the current isn't isolated."
"Isolated?" Heather glanced at Josephine.
"In simple terms, for electricity to harm you seriously, it needs an entry and an exit point. That's why birds sitting on high wires don't die. If you're holding a wire with your hands and the rest of your body is isolated from anything that can conduct electricity, you don't receive a shock. Someone who touches a live wire while standing on the ground, acts as a conductor between the wire and ground, creating a circuit for the electricity to go through. Things such as wood, or rubber break the current's path. That's why my dad and his crew wore special rubber boots and used special gloves and other safety gear when handling electric fences."
Heather nodded. A vague image swirled in her head. Something about rubber gloves? Maybe the one Josephine kept under the sink?
No... that was something else... But she couldn't remember right then.
She still couldn't make sense of what James just had told her, but she had an urge to drive straight to the marina in the harbor and find Calm Waters.
"I think we really do need to search the boat. We're looking for a fishing pole and anything else suspicious."
14
Heather and Josephine drove to the harbor in silence.
"There is just one little problem," Heather said, taking a turn and parking her car at the entrance to the marina. "How are we going to get on the yacht?"
Josephine chuckled.
"That'll be no problem at all," she said. "We're going to take a walk on the jetty and then, while passing by the boat, I'll push you. And you will drop something on the deck."
Heather pulled the key from the ignition.
"That's crazy! What if I fall into the water or break something?" she replied.
"As long as you don't break anything on the boat, it'll be fine. Although, I wouldn't mind doing some damage to any property of Jon Waters and Co."
Heather shook her head. Her curls spilled on her cheeks.
"I don't agree. I don't want that. We'll have to find a safer way."
"A safer way to break onto someone's yacht?" Josephine said, her tone mocking. "In the middle of the day? Yep, I'm open to suggestions," she added, arching her brow.
Heather stared back. She set her jaw forward and furrowed her forehead.
Nope, it didn't help her come up with a better idea.
"Okay," Heather said slowly. "Dropping something sounds doable, just don't push me too hard. But what could we drop that's worth jumping after it?"
Josephine jerked her chin, pointing at the car keys in Heather’s hand.
"No way!"
"Got a better idea? It's light, small, valuable, likely to bounce on the floor. It means we may need to look all over the deck..."
Heather tensed her muscles. She'd have love to stomp her foot or do something equally silly, but it was hard to argue with Josephine's logic. On the other hand, she didn't want to risk her only car keys.
There must be something else! Think, Heather...
She reached into the glovebox and pulled a small flashlight.
"How about this?" she asked, fully aware of the triumph coming through in her tone of voice.
Josephine nodded. "Yeah, yeah. That's a good idea. It may be dark inside," she added.
"Inside?"
"Of course. Do you think he keeps his boobytrapped fishing gear on display?"
Heather grunted in response. Josephine was having a good day today, showing off her sharp mind. Heather felt a tiny prick of jealousy but chastised herself for it.
Silly Heather, you need at least one brain working at one hundred percent!
"Right, let's go then," she said, pushing the door open.
The air hit her with billions of tiny droplets. She closed the door.
Josephine gave her a curious look.
"Made of sugar, aren't you?" she said.
"Let's just wait a little, it'll stop," Heather mumbled.
One thing she had learnt during her few weeks in Dolphin Cove, the rain in Northland could arrive at any time, even if the sky seemed completely clear a minute earlier; it was usually violent and heavy. And it could end in an instant.
It could also happen that it rained on one side of the house and stayed dry on the other.
But Josephine poked her finger into Heather's arm.
"It's perfect now."
"Now? But the walkway will be slippery," Heather protested.
"Exactly! Get out."
Josephine opened the passenger door and ventured outside. Reluctantly, Heather followed.
The rain was cold and pricked her skin. The wind made it fly everywhere. Heather hugged her jacket and shielded her eyes with her hand, holding the car keys.
Josephine led the way, She marched ahead with an ener
gy Heather had not seen in her roommate before. Even her usually hunched back seemed straightener. She also seemed waterproof, or at least water resistant, definitely unfazed by the freezing cold liquid spraying over them and turning everything around a mushy-grey.
They stepped onto a wooden pontoon that extended ahead with two rows of boats moored along, with piles separating them. The boats' sides and their back parts - sterns bobbed above the walkway level, hitting against the pontoon with every gust of the wind.
There will be climbing involved...
The walkway floated as they marched ahead.
Josephine stopped and glanced over her shoulder. She pointed with her head towards one of the boats on the right-hand side of the jetty, just a few berths ahead.
She waited for Heather to join her.
"Now, be careful and make sure you don't break anything," she whispered, slightly nudging Heather forward.
A few steps later, an elbow jolt plunged in her arm, she slipped, her knee hit the plank but she grabbed the plastic side of the nearest boat. It wobbled.
"That's the one," Josephine’s conspiratorial alto cut through the humming of the rain. "The key!"
With her heart pounding and her stomach in her throat, Heather let go of the car key.
The key slid down, onto the deck of the boat with a light knock.
"Oh, what happened, Heather?" Josephine’s voice boomed.
Heather shivered. Her hand hurt. She lifted her head to send her flatmate a stern look.
Josephine winked.
"What did you drop?"
"You know very well..." Heather snarled. "Oh..." she remembered the conversation from the car. The rain must have washed out some of her smarts. "You know very well I hate walking in the rain. I've lost my car keys," she recited.
She would have looked around to check if anyone was watching, but Josephine was already pulling her up from her knees and pushing her towards the boat.
Heather grabbed the side, tugged the boat closer and carefully stepped over and onto the stern.
The boat looked tired. The handrails and other metal fittings on the deck were tarnished. The ropes were dirty grey with age and use, the same color as the old tablecloths Heather discovered in the cupboard behind the counter and had decided to throw out. They weren’t coiled up, but sat in dirty piles soaked in water.
"The owner hasn't cleaned their boat after an outing," Josephine murmured. She pointed to a pile of tangled rope in the corner of the cockpit and the brown-grey mud all over the worn planking.
Heather stepped into the cockpit. She edged round the wheel and past the folded down cockpit table. Urrgh, her feet were soaking now. She scrambled over the ropes towards the cabin doors.
The wooden doors leading to the cabin (or so Heather guessed) were weathered, and one of the hinges seemed loose.
So far, nothing incriminating, just the fitted boat equipment outside.
Heather grabbed the worn-out handles on the cabin doors and pulled.
Locked.
“Can’t you get in?” Josephine asked.
Heather yanked at the handles again. The loose hinge came off a little more.
“Hang on a minute. It’s giving at the top. Let me try again.”
She pulled harder on the side that had yielded. “It's not locked, just really stiff.”
Heather put her fingers round the edge of the door and tugged as hard as she could. With a grouching noise, the door came open at the top.
"Done."
"Yeah, not very secure, is it?" Josephine observed. "You go in. I'll stay on the deck and pretend I'm looking for the key."
Heather stepped over the ledge and fished out her flashlight. She climbed down the steps carefully, holding onto the cabin wall on one side.
The moment her feet touched the flood, the boat titled forward and a gust of wind slammed the door shut.
Bother.
Heather looked back up. Not too bad... It should be easier to push it open from this side out.
The cabin was dark. It smelled of diesel, damp and fish. Fortunately, the fish odor was fairly fresh, and Heather didn't gag.
She swept the flashlight's beam across the counters. The brass fittings above the navigation table glistened. The galley worktops were clear of clutter.
She played the beam to the floor. It was empty, except for a plastic bucket and a fishing pole in the corner.
A fishing pole!
Her heart accelerated. In two steps she was beside it. She stretched her free arm and ... stopped an inch away from the pole.
What if it was the boobytrapped one? The one connected to a power source?
She zoomed on the rod and checked its length, from top to bottom and back up again. She noticed a slit on the handle.
A natural split or a man-made?
Safety first.
She checked carefully the area around the bucket. No sign of a wire.
A pair or rubber gloves were lying in the bucket.
What did Josephine say about the rubber?
Isolation.
So was the wood, and the floor was wooden.
Was it safe?
She needed to ring James.
She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialled his number. But once again, James didn't answer.
Of course, he was probably still fishing with Axel. He'd probably left his phone at home ...
Yeah, how very helpful.
So, she was going to send him a helpful text message, in kind.
She typed, "Found a dodgy fishing pole and a pair of rubber gloves on his boat. Have you told on us yet, or shall I call the police myself?" and pressed "Send."
The boat wobbled again. Steps echoed in the distance.
Someone was running on the pontoon?
Heather snapped off her flashlight and stood, rooted to the spot.
"Hey, you," an angry voice ripped through the pelting the rain. "What the hell are you doing on my boat?"
15
Heather slid the flashlight back into her pocket. She hoped that Mr Angry hadn’t seen the light. It was better staying quiet and lying low, even if standing.
"Oh, Jon Waters, well, well, long time no see," Josephine yelled. "How are you?"
The boat rocked again and water splashed against the hull.
"Who are you? And what are you doing on my boat?" The angry voice sounded closer – it was only a few steps away through a thin wall.
A cold shiver traveled down Heather's spine. She flicked her phone to silent mode and dialed James' number again.
"Can't remember me, can you? Or don't want to?" Josephine replied, adding a sharp laugh. "I'm Josephine, Ricky Barry's daughter. You remember Barry's Fencing? We used to be quite big in Canterbury. Yeah, exactly where you and your father's business are based."
"What are you doing here?" the man drawled. The boat rocked again and two splashing sounds followed. He must have climbed down to the deck.
The tiny hair on the nape of Heather's neck rose. Josephine! Was she safe?
Her heart pumping like crazy, Heather waited for the phone to ring once and disconnected straight after. All she could do now was to somehow alert James to their plight.
But she couldn't talk. Otherwise, she'd reveal her location a potential killer. With Heather hiding in the cabin, the man would think he only had to deal with Josephine. That gave her a tiny advantage, and she had to make sure she'd use it well.
And she had to text James to let him know what had just happened.
"I slipped and my car keys dropped onto this boat, so I jumped on board to find them. And then I realized I know the boat. You used to keep it in the carport in winter, didn't you?"
Josephine's voice quivered. Heather tapped on the cell phone's screen, trying to bring up the messaging app, but her fingers were too sweaty, and the phone was not responding.
"You have a good memory. Did you find your car keys?" The man's voice softened a little.
Heather wiped her hand on her pant
s.
Finally, the screen responded.
Messages... recent...
"No, there’s not a lot of room in this cockpit and I'm a bit too big to squat, you know," Josephine said lightly and then giggled.
What was she doing?
Never mind.
Message. To. James.
She typed, "He's here. Angry. Come quick. Bring friends."
"It's great that you're here actually. Could you please help?" Josephine continued.
Heather pressed, 'Send'.
Josephine shuffled some more.
What was she-?
Was she warning her?
No, she must have realized Heather would be able to hear the conversation. Maybe she was trying to mask any sound from the cabin?
That would make sense, except Heather was being as quiet as a mouse.
What did Josephine want?
"Where did it land?" the man asked. His voice was low, grumbling.
"Somewhere over there, I think."
The footsteps suggested he moved away from the cabin.
A light tapping on the door drew Heather’s attention.
"Are you still in the fencing business, Jon?" Josephine asked. "How is it going?"
"Alright," he replied. The voice was muffled, and appeared further away.
"Are you still using the same dirty tricks on your competitors? You know, like the one you did on my dad, with the live wire and the fence?"
The rain must have settled as the world outside went quiet. Josephine's voice was ripping through the silence.
"Have you gone batty?" The man growled.
"Not at all. Unlike your wife, I guess. How long has she been like that? Did you ever try to get her to see a psychiatrist? Was that when she started to threaten you? Or was it earlier?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, woman. My wife has just died and speaking of her like that is-"
"I know, is really bad manners. And I'm sorry she’s dead. Not your loss, Jon Waters. Because I don't think you loved her. She was only useful to you as long as she did what you needed her to do. But she's been off her rocker for months. And she's done you some damage hasn't she?"
"None of your business."
Jon Waters' voice brimmed with hostility.
A few heavy steps indicated the man was closing on Josephine.