Rigged for Murder (Windjammer Mystery Series)

by Jenifer LeClair

  “What I mean is...”

  “I know what you mean, Brie. There’s a murderer in our midst, but hopefully he’s taking a lunch break right now.”

  “This is no joke, you know,” Brie said, a hint of irritation now.

  “You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” John held his hands in a stick-em-up position. “Everyone’s in the kitchen eating, and I told Scott to keep an eye on things. I won’t be in here long. Okay?”

  “I guess so,” Brie said hesitantly.

  John pulled a low coffee table over in front of the fire-place. Then he grabbed two of the seat cushions from the sofa and placed them on either side of the table. Brie unclipped her gun and put it in the desk. She carried the tray over and distributed the contents into two place settings, and she and John sat down, cross-legged, in front of the fire to enjoy the lunch.

  “So, I guess I’m not at the top of your suspect list since you just took off your gun.”

  Brie raised an eyebrow, but instead of responding, tried her corn chowder.

  “Are you good with it—the gun, I mean?”

  Brie wondered why men were so enthralled with guns. “I used to think so,” she said. “But when it mattered most…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Sorry, Brie.” John lowered his head, appalled at his lack of forethought.

  Guns were an unavoidable part of her profession, but they held no fascination for Brie. She changed the subject. “Do you know anything about the history of the inn?” Brie asked, spooning her soup.

  “A little bit. It was originally the home of a wealthy sea captain, Josiah Campbell, who retired to the island with his wife, Hannah, in the late 1880s. He wanted to create the loveliest place possible for her to make up for all the years he’d been away at sea. He hired the best craftsmen and spared no expense importing exotic materials and furnishings. Unfortunately, Hannah died only two years after their home was finished.” John picked up his spoon and sampled the chowder. “After her death Josiah became quite a recluse. He had his library and his view of the sea, and that’s all that seemed to matter to him. When he died the place was purchased as a private summer home by a wealthy family from New York, and ultimately by several other families. About ten years ago Glenn and Betty bought it and turned it into a bed and breakfast.”

  “A place like this could really grow on you,” Brie said, biting into her tuna melt. George, in usual fashion, had served up a large dose of comfort cleverly disguised as lunch.

  “So how’s the questioning going?”

  “As usual, it’s raising as many questions as it’s answering. What do you know about George’s private life?”

  “Well, not that much, I guess. George usually goes back to New York during the off season, which is six months of the year. Why do you ask?”

  “Apparently Alyssa overheard him arguing with Pete last night during his watch. She said Pete accused George of being gay.”

  “What! I don’t believe that. When George moved up here the first summer, he brought his girlfriend with him—nothing very gay about that. And that doesn’t sound like Pete, either. I don’t pry into the lives of my crew, but none of that seems to ring true.”

  Brie shrugged. “Either way, it could give George a motive. Scott also heard him arguing with Pete at 1:45. On another front, Rob came on deck at 2:55 in the morning and found Pete dead.” She put her sandwich down.

  “He didn’t call anyone? You’re joking.”

  “Said he was afraid of looking guilty. Apparently he knew Alyssa had been up on deck with Pete, and he’d gone up there planning to, quote, ‘beat the shit out of him.’ ”

  “Was I the only one actually sleeping last night?” John asked, playing with his soup.

  “I know. It’s pretty amazing. And I haven’t interviewed Will, Howard or Tim yet. Who knows what kind of nocturnal activities they had going on? I hope I’m not spoiling your lunch,” she said, looking at his still half-full plate.

  “You’re not. I’m fine.”

  “It’s also possible that Rob got a glimpse of the killer, if I can believe what he says.”

  “Oh?” John paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth.

  “He said he saw someone in the shadows up near the bow, just as he was heading back below decks. He went forward to check it out but found no one.”

  “Do you believe him?” John asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m slightly inclined to, but only slightly.”

  “So, where does that leave us?”

  “I think I’ll have a better feel for things after I’ve interviewed Tim and Will. Rob said that whoever he saw could have ducked down the forward companionway. Will and Tim both have their cabins down there.”

  “Did he go down and look around?” John asked, finishing his tuna melt.

  “He says he checked the storeroom and also tried the cabin doors, but found nothing.”

  “That took some guts. Maybe he’s not totally about bravado.”

  “Maybe not. He said he was a Marine. I have a call in to a friend of mine at the department. He’s running the names I gave him to see what he comes up with.” Brie polished off the rest of her tuna melt. She felt comforted by the warm food.

  “So, what can I do?” John asked.

  “You’re doing it—just keep an eye on everyone while I’m in here doing the questioning.”

  “So far they’ve just been hanging out in the game room and taking turns getting showers. Howard, Scott and George have been down for showers, and the others are planning to go after lunch. You make sure you take some time for yourself today, Brie. Enjoy a hot shower, and stop in the game room so I can beat you at a round of pool.”

  Brie smiled. “We’ll see who beats whom. I’m planning to grab a shower right after lunch and then finish the rest of the questioning.” She poured coffee into the two mugs George had provided and offered John one of the bowls of cobbler that had been sitting off to the side. “You up for this?”

  “I try to lose ten pounds every spring before the sailing season begins,” John said. “The way George cooks, I know I’ll gain at least that much by fall.”

  “I have a feeling that, with him around, I wouldn’t need egg noodles.”

  “Come again?”

  “Nothing. Just one of my comfort tactics.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being one of your comfort tactics,” he said softly.

  Brie felt heat in her belly, and it wasn’t from the soup. “Boy, it’s getting warm by this fire; I think I’ll stretch my legs.” She spun around on the cushion, stood up and walked over toward the window. She heard John pad up behind her.

  “I meant what I said about the comfort thing, you know. It wouldn’t be imposing at all.” He wrapped his hands gently around her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head.

  Brie leaned back into him—a tired traveler resting against a sturdy oak. John slipped his arms around her waist and drew her closer, nuzzling his nose against the hair just above her ear. Brie’s wave of desire was just reaching tsunami proportions when a bolt of lightning, accompanied by earsplitting thunder, made them both jump. The lights flickered and went out.

  “I’ve been waiting for the power to go out, but why now?”

  John’s exasperated tone would have made Brie smile, but she was busy trying to get control of her own emotions. She remembered the spark leaping out of the fireplace. Best not to get too close, she thought. She stepped away from John and walked to the desk to retrieve her gun.

  “I have to go start the generator, Brie.”

  “You go. I’ll bring the dishes out and let everyone know what’s going on.”

  John headed through the kitchen and out the back door of the inn, telling everyone he was going to start the generator. Brie gathered up the dishes and carried the big tray back out to the kitchen. The passengers and crew were seated around the wooden tables finishing their lunches or sipping coffee.

  “I’m surprised the electricity didn’t go out before this
, the way the wind’s been blowing the last twenty-four hours,” Scott said. They heard the generator roar to life and the lights came back on.

  George walked over to where Brie stood looking out the back window toward a sloping wooded hill rising up behind the inn. “As soon as the captain comes back in I’m going to grab a quick shower,” she said. “Then I need to ask you a couple more questions, George.”

  “Sure, I’ll be out here cleaning up for a while, so just call me when you’re ready.”

  The lack of nervousness in his voice registered with Brie—obviously he wasn’t too concerned about her calling him in a second time. A good sign.

  “Do you know how to get down to the showers, George?”

  “That door right over there.” He pointed to the wall behind the tables. “Everything you need is down there—shampoo, towels, hair dryers.”

  Just then the captain stepped back into the kitchen. “I’m heading down for a quick shower,” she said to him. “I’ll be back up in a half hour or so.”

  “Take your time, Brie. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  The shower facilities downstairs were spartan compared to the rest of the inn. But the tile floor was spotless, and there was plenty of light, thanks to several overhead fixtures. A large electric heater pumped out warmth, and with the moisture from the previous showers, it felt like the tropics. Brie drew a deep breath of the warm humid air. As she took a pair of soft white towels from the cabinet next to the sinks, she could feel her shoulders already beginning to relax.

  She stepped into one of the small dressing cubicles that adjoined each shower, removed her gun and folded it in one of the towels. She placed it on the end of the bench just beyond the shower curtain where she could reach it quickly if need be. She hoped she wouldn’t have to respond to any emergencies in her bath towel. As she stepped naked into the shower, a brief fantasy unfolded involving John and the towel. She put her head directly under the spray to dissolve the thought.

  11

  IN THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES BRIE HEADED back upstairs feeling fresh and relaxed. The hot water had melted away some of the tension that was turning her neck and shoulder muscles into tight cords. She had left her freshly washed and dried hair loose rather than returning it to the ponytail. Brie had always considered her hair to be her best feminine asset, and she may have been right, because several heads turned as she came into the kitchen.

  George and Scott were just finishing drying and storing the dishes. “All set, George?” she asked

  “Yup, we’re done here.” He laid down his towel and followed Brie to the library, where they sat down at the desk as they had that morning.

  “George, I’ll come right to the point. Is there anything you omitted in recounting your argument with Pete last night?”

  The tic in his eye came back to life. “The windjammer fleet is sort of a closed community,” George began. “The captains all know each other, and like any group, there’s always some competition among the members. There are petty jealousies that cause rumors. I’ve earned a reputation over the years as the best cook in the fleet; in fact, several captains have tried to hire me. The Sarah Trenton, in particular, wanted me, and I think the cook aboard that ship started the rumors about me being gay.”

  George’s eye twitched uncontrollably. “I have absolutely nothing against gays, but the fact is I’m not one of them. I learned last night that Pete was a complete bigot. During our argument he told me he wouldn’t work on a ship with anyone who was gay. He actually threatened me—said there was more than one way to leave the crew. His behavior was so strange I couldn’t believe it. He was irrational.”

  Brie knew about fanatics. They can appear perfectly normal one minute and totally unbalanced the next. Hatred keeps them on the brink. Like active volcanoes, their anger may ooze out slowly, scorching everything around them, or erupt violently, without warning. She wondered if Pete could have bullied or threatened George enough to make him snap. She studied him for a moment.

  “So why didn’t you tell me about this when we talked this morning?” she asked.

  “It’s embarrassing, number one. And two, either way, gay or not, it makes me look like I had a pretty strong motive for killing Pete.”

  “It does do that. But it certainly helps that you’ve been honest.”

  Brie’s instincts were telling her that the truth and, hence, the killer, were not going to be easily discovered. She let George go, asking if he’d find Howard and send him in.

  A gentle knock on the door announced Howard’s arrival. “Come in,” Brie called.

  Howard stepped in and closed the door. “What a beautiful library, but this isn’t a good way to spend your vacation, is it?”

  “I used to think I was pretty good at going with the flow,” Brie said. “Lately, though, I’ve done a lot of paddling against the current. Anyway, thanks for your concern, Howard. Come sit down.” Brie indicated the chair. “How’s everybody doing today?”

  “It’s a subdued group, there’s no doubt about that, but everyone is attempting to get along.” He looked at the recorder as Brie clicked it on.

  “Howard, did you see or hear anything at all unusual in the night?”

  “I was so tired last night. I don’t think I’ve ever been that tired. It may be that I’m just too old for adventures like this.”

  Brie noted that he hadn’t addressed the question, but she decided to come back to it since his comment had presented another opportunity. “Do you do things like this with Will very often?”

  “Actually, this is the first time we’ve ever done anything like this. I was stunned that Will wanted me to go with him. I even asked him if he wouldn’t have more fun with one of his friends, but he said that I was the one he wanted on this trip with him. So, of course, I came. Will was a tag-along child—I was 46 when he was born. He was twelve years younger than his nearest sibling, and I guess we probably sheltered and spoiled him too much. By then money was no problem, but time was. I was at the peak of my career, and I worked a huge number of hours.”

  “What was your job, Howard?”

  “I owned a small manufacturing business. Anyway, I did teach Will to sail when he was young—it was the one thing we did together when he was a boy. There should have been a lot more things.” Howard’s eyes took on a look of regret, as if he were seeing things in focus for the first time, through the powerful lens of awareness that often only comes with age.

  Suddenly, he looked up at Brie. “You know, there was something last night. I heard a noise in the middle of the night. It was a creaking, metallic sound. There’ve been lots of noises coming from the ship during the gale, but this was different from anything I’d heard. I’m not sure if it woke me up or if I happened to awake at just the right moment to hear it. It was on our side of the ship though—the starboard side. And a few moments after that I’d swear I heard someone try our door. I didn’t think anything of it at the time—not knowing Pete had been murdered.”

  Brie thought about the position of Howard and Will’s cabin. It was behind the storeroom, and the storeroom sat directly in back of the galley, separated from it by a bulkhead. Rob had checked the storeroom. Where could that sound have come from? Brie jotted the question on her note pad.

  “Do you know if Will got up at all during the night?”

  “Not that I know of, but if you’re suggesting that he had anything to do with the murder, well, that’s just impossible. Will has his problems like all of us, but he’s no killer.”

  Spoken like a true father, Brie thought.

  “I wasn’t suggesting anything, Howard—just trying to account for people’s whereabouts during Pete’s watch.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry, Brie. Will has been...” Howard stopped mid-sentence and looked down at his hands.

  “Will has been what?”

  “Oh, nothing. Will’s been having a hard summer, that’s all.”

  Brie had the distinct feeling that Howard had started to say somethin
g entirely different and changed his mind. What could it have been? Will has been in trouble; Will has been accused of something; Will has been to jail—been arrested. What? She’d never know now.

  “Why is he having a hard summer? Is it because he didn’t get the job on the Maine Wind?”

  “I think it’s just entering the real world of responsibilities. No more college campus. No more having Dad foot the bill. Kids in this generation have been pretty pampered—lots of privileges and not that many responsibilities. It’s a big transition for some of them.”

  “Well, Howard, for your sake, I hope he makes the transition smoothly. Now, I need to ask Will some questions, so why don’t you send him in?”

  “I’ll go get him, Brie,” he said, rising from the chair in a manner that indicated arthritis was already a factor. He limped a step or two before his body got into the swing; then he moved with more ease toward the door and closed it quietly after himself.

  Brie picked up the length of grayed rope from the desktop and swiveled around to face the window. The rain was unrelenting. She tied a bowline, untied it, and tied another. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be a parent. There wasn’t much left of most people after they got done raising kids—as if the job just chewed them up and spat them out at the other end, old and tired.

  Will walked into the library without knocking. Why am I not surprised? Brie thought, turning her chair back around.

  “Dad says you want to see me,” he said, closing the door harder than necessary.

  “Come sit down, Will.”

  He slouched across the room and into the chair. Throwing one leg over the arm, like he was getting ready for a bull-shit session with one of his undoubtedly annoying buddies, he gave her a look that was half apathy, half arrogance. Poor Howard, Brie thought. And for that matter, poor me.

  Except for the surly expression, everything about Will Thackeray spelled average—medium height, medium build, medium hair color. He didn’t carry himself like an athlete, but the snug fitting tee-shirt he wore revealed a well-toned body, suggesting he at least worked out.