Past Perfect: A Fun and Flirty Romantic Mystery (Amber Reed Mystery Book 4)

by Zanna Mackenzie

  “It’s the Diamond,” Dan says quietly. “Frank must have got everyone on the boat after the police had checked it out and found nobody there.”

  “Why didn’t they post somebody to watch the stupid boat?” Martha demands. “It stands to reason the Diamond was a likely place for Frank to go.” She throws her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe they checked it just the once and didn’t have someone out of sight watching it. Who have they got working this? Talk about useless. If you want something doing properly, do it yourself!” she rants.

  Looks like we’re going to the harbour.

  We ignore the lift in favour of a sprint down the stairs to the parking area. Yanking open the doors of the other hire car, Martha behind the wheel, we squeal out of the car park. As we speed along the streets, my brain manages to think sensibly for a second or two. I lunge forward, my hands gripping the back of the front seats as we careen around a corner. “How are we going to get out on the water in the harbour? Ask the police or coastguard to take us out on one of their boats?”

  “Get a boat from somewhere, now!” Martha instructs Dan.

  “I’ll sort it, no worries,” he replies but doesn’t reach for his phone.

  “Dan! Sort it now!” Martha and I both yell at him at the same time. “Get on your phone and find us a boat.”

  “Who am I going to phone?” he says, far too calmly for my liking. “I don’t happen to know anyone in this city who owns a boat.”

  “So what do we do then?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realise how stupid a question that is. I know exactly what Dan is planning on doing. “You’re going to steal a boat, aren’t you? I know you can break into a safe or a building or a car, but have you ever broken into a boat before?”

  Dan shrugs. “How hard can it be?”

  “Don’t worry,” Martha soothes as she takes another corner far too fast and I hang on to the seat for dear life. “Dan can break into anything. He’s one of the best.”

  It seems to me to take far too long to reach the waterfront, but as soon as we do I have the door open before the car has even stopped. We race down a wooden dock, and Dan leaps aboard the first boat we find which is not too big to manoeuvre but looks powerful enough to get us out into the harbour so we can get to Frank’s boat, the Diamond. Dan climbs onto the boat and knocks on the cabin loudly, calling out to check if anybody is home, though there are no lights on. Then he pulls his trusty tools from his jacket pocket and sets about getting us inside.

  Martha leans over his shoulder. “Come on, Dan. Get a move on, we haven’t got all night!” she hisses at him as I stand close by, hopping anxiously from one foot to another, and pointing the flashlight beam in Dan’s direction so he can see what he’s doing.

  “I could do this faster without you breathing down my neck,” he snaps at Martha, who actually backs off.

  The sounds of the city and water slapping against the bottom of the boat are all around us. I hear a distant police siren wailing and feel even sicker. Out there, in the dark waters of the harbour, is Charlie, on a boat with a smuggler, a criminal, a man with a gun. Or maybe several men with guns. I try to breathe but I feel as though I can’t get any air. I try to swallow but my mouth is bone dry and my throat seems constricted and swollen. A panic attack isn’t far away, but I close my eyes and force myself to keep some semblance of control. I have to, for Charlie’s sake. I’m not going to be the wimpy support officer who stood and sobbed instead of did something to find her boyfriend. I choose to ignore the fact Charlie and I are still, technically, on a break.

  “We’re in,” Dan says, opening the cabin door. “Now, we just need to figure out how to drive this thing.”

  After a few false starts, we’re thankfully on our way. The night air is biting at my cheeks as we speed along. It’s going to be fine, I chant to myself over and over. It’s going to be fine. We’ll get to the Diamond and get Charlie and Lindy out of there safely. Martha speaks to the local guy leading the search on her phone and gets the details of exactly where the Diamond is, relaying them to Dan. “Do not approach the boat,” she snaps into the phone at the police.

  But when we do reach the Diamond, the police are already aboard. Dan swears loudly, as does Martha, picking up her phone to have another rant at somebody in the police department. Dan shakes his head and gently places his hand over hers to prevent her making a call. “It’s not worth having a go at them.”

  Martha sighs. “OK, you call them and see what the hell is going on with the boats then.”

  I stare at the three boats ahead of us. Two coastguard police boats have the Diamond surrounded. There are searchlights and industrial flashlights and lots of activity, but we aren’t close enough to be able to see the people on board. A few people are escorted out of the cabin and my breath catches. Is one of them Charlie? Please let him be all right.

  “Charlie knows how to look after himself,” Martha says determinedly.

  I’m not sure if she’s talking to herself or to us.

  “What’s going on?” Dan says into the phone, speaking to the local police contact again. He listens without saying a word, and I think I’m going to grab the phone out of his hands any second to try and find out what’s happening and where Charlie is. Just as I’m about to do exactly that, Dan ends the call.

  “And?” I demand.

  “Sorry, Charlie wasn’t on board.”

  My knees threaten to give way, and I slump onto the deck of the boat. Martha storms over to Dan, whisks him round so they both have their backs to me and talks to him in a hissed whisper. I know what she’s saying to him. She thinks it might be too late.

  Well, it isn’t.

  I won’t accept that. Gripping the side of the boat, I huddle up to a life jacket and stare out across the water. Charlie isn’t down there, in those dark, cold depths. I know he isn’t. I won’t let him be. He’s alive, and I’m going to see him really soon and we’ll kiss and hug and make-up and everything will be perfect.

  “Amber, honey.” Dan’s voice registers somewhere on the edge of my consciousness. He crouches down next to me and takes my hand.

  I yank it away and push at him. “No! Do not say it!” I push at him even harder. I’m vaguely aware I’m taking my anger and frustration and pain out on him, and that I’m being unfair, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except getting Charlie back safely.

  “Amber,” he tries again gently, clasping my hands and holding them tightly in his own.

  “No!” I scream into the night. “He’s alive and he’s OK. I know it.” For the first time I stop staring unfocussed into the night and actually look at Dan. “I know, Dan.”

  Dan crushes me in a fierce hug, saying nothing. The boat eventually stops and Dan and Martha both help me out of the boat and up the wooden dock, back towards our car. I’m shivering, my teeth chattering. I can hear Martha saying something about me being in shock and needing to get warm and have a hot drink. Inside the car, Martha jumps behind the wheel and Dan sits with me in the back. I’m already wearing his coat but I’m still shaking. Martha cranks up the car’s heating and Dan holds me so tight I’m finding it difficult to breathe again. But then, a part of me feels as though I’m not bothered about breathing anyway. I feel anguished and yet numb. I feel as though my world just exploded and crashed at my feet. I need to put my brain to thinking about something other than what might have happened. I force myself to recall the scene at the warehouse, the two men getting out of the minivan with the guns and Lindy. Who else is involved in this smuggling ring? Is the ring actually connected to the deaths on the show, or did we stumble across a whole different criminal activity in the course of investigating the murders? I don’t know. I open my eyes and stare out the window at the passing city streets.

  Martha’s phone buzzes and she answers on hands-free. “Yep,” she barks as she drives.

  The voice on the other end of the call echoes through the SUV’s interior and introduces itself as Neal from agency HQ. �
��We have established a link between some hidden accounts,” the voice continues. “William Denver uses several hidden accounts to deposit large sums of money, distributing them between accounts to avoid money laundering questions.”

  “Go on,” Martha snaps.

  “We’ve just unearthed a connection between his account and those of Frank Meades, Cate Villiers and Maurice Fabio. It appears all of the money directed through Villiers’s account is then automatically sent on to Fabio’s. From there, it goes to a family in Florida.”

  “Cate’s family?” Martha asks, pulling up at some traffic lights. We’re not racing around anymore. No taking corners too fast or whizzing through red lights. I flinch at what that means.

  “No,” the phone voice continues. “A family who live not far from Cate’s mum and her family, but this is a young couple who adopted a baby boy a few years ago.”

  “Thanks.” Martha ends the call. “So, Cate was involved in the smuggling ring. But was she bribed into it by Frank or did she do it voluntarily to make loads of extra money to send it anonymously, via Fabio’s account, to the people who adopted the baby she had years ago and gave up for adoption. Looks like she wanted to provide for him, without the boy’s parent’s knowing what she was doing or who she was.”

  “My money’s on the stepbrother Frank blackmailing her to be the go-between, supplying the real-deal designer goods form North Shores to the place on the docks, where they were skilfully copied,” Dan says. I can hear the rumble in his chest as he speaks, he’s still holding me tight. “He knew about the baby she gave up, knew she wanted to keep that out of the papers, so he bribed her to supply his smuggling ring with the designer goods for them to knock off copies of.”

  Something registers in the back of my head. “What did Frank say to the police?”

  “Nothing yet, apparently. He refused to talk until his lawyer was present,” Martha replies.

  “I’d have made the git talk,” Dan mutters beside me.

  As Martha and Dan throw back and forth ideas about how the smuggling ring came to be and deciding what their next move will be, we arrive back at the apartment block. Still in a daze, I’m led into the lift, Dan now holding my hand. Upstairs, Martha takes over and encourages me to get into bed as Dan appears with a hot drink, which I ignore. The two of them argue about who is going to stay here and babysit me, while the other goes off to try and finish up the case. Martha gets the short straw and Dan stomps out of the apartment to who knows where.

  “OK?” Martha asks tentatively. Picking up the ignored coffee mug, she presses it towards me. “Drink this, it will warm you up.”

  Stubbornly, I refuse. She relents and places the mug back on its glass coaster. “Amber, I’m going to call a doctor, get you a sedative to help with… you know.”

  I glare at her, refusing to believe what she is, in a roundabout way, saying. And that’s when I notice the tears in her eyes. I lean forward and hug her as we both sob. Eventually, she eases away and stands up. “I’ll call a doctor.”

  “I don’t need a doctor,” I say quietly. “I’m fine. And do you know why I’m fine?”

  “Honey, you’re not fine, you’re in shock. We all are.”

  Ignoring her I continue, “I’m fine, because I know Charlie is still out there, somewhere, and he’ll be back soon.”

  She paints a faint smile on her face and nods. I guess she’s not in arguing mode, for once. “You’re right. Yeah, I’m with you on that.”

  I smile back, tears still in my eyes.

  “I’m going to go take a shower,” she says, heading for the en suite bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

  As soon as she closes the door behind her I leap out of bed, grab her phone and her gun, and head into the lounge, scrambling around for the other set of car keys. I am going to find Denver – and Charlie.

  Everyone was looking for Frank, because we saw him with Lindy and the minivan at the warehouse, but has anyone tracked Denver down? Maybe he has Charlie and Lindy. Right now, I’m prepared to just keep scouring this city until I find them.

  I scroll through Martha’s phone in the elevator on the way down to the parking garage, finding the details of Denver’s home address. I locate the place easily enough. It’s on the waterfront, an apartment block overlooking a section of marina. I’m not interested in his house, it’s the water I’m heading for.

  Days ago, Nicole told me how Denver had an extravagant lifestyle, what’s the betting he has a boat to go along with that? Skirting around the edge of the building, I make my way down to the water. There’s a wrought iron metal security gate at the back of the apartment building’s parameter which leads to the marina. I still haven’t perfected my lock-picking skills, so I jump against the gate and grab to get a hand hold, then drag myself up to get a foot hold. Adrenaline is surging though me, making my teeth chatter and my fingers tremble. Finally, my feet land on the other side of the gate. I stare at the boats. There are more than I’d anticipated. How do I know which one is Denver’s? If, indeed, he does have a boat as I’m surmising.

  I creep onto the nearest section of wooden dock, stop, listen and look. Nothing. Retracing my steps, I do the same with the next two wooden docks. Still nothing. Come on, come on. Give me a sign. Some tiny clue. On the last section, I think I hear voices, faint and distant, but they’re there, none the less. Is my mind playing tricks on me? I venture further onto the dock and then stop, listening again. I hear them again. Speeding up, I half crouch and half run along the dock to the point where it splits in two. Which way now? Then I see a pinprick of light about ten boats down on the right. I ignore the voice in my head telling me I should turn around and go and call Martha or Dan, and instead follow the sound of the voices on the night air. Yes, closer now, I can hear a male voice and see what looks to be a table lamp through a cabin boat window. I don’t want to even think about what I might find on that boat, instead I push on. I’m on my hands and knees by the time I’ve drawn level with the boat. I don’t want its occupants to see or hear me. This could all be a huge mistake and it’s just some guy, out on his boat before or after a fishing trip or something. Gingerly, I slide myself off the dock and oh-so-softly onto the deck of the boat. Pressing my back against the outside of the cabin, I lean forward just enough to see inside. My hand flies to my mouth to stop the wave of sickness and I close my eyes, gripping a nearby rope. Inside is Denver, standing with his back to me in the middle of the cabin. Sitting on a bench seat opposite him is Lindy, a scarf wrapped around her face, her hands tied.

  “You’ve served your purpose,” I can hear Denver saying to her inside the cabin.

  Hastily I grab Martha’s phone from my pocket and attempt to record Denver’s words in case it might be helpful with the case.

  “You let me know when costumes and jewels wouldn’t be required on set for a few days, giving us time to get them copied and then returned without anybody even noticing they’d been gone. Cate slipped the items off the set, no questions asked. But then, you stupid cow, you went and ruined everything. You were supposed to just tamper with the brakes on his car to get rid of that interfering Ed.”

  He’s ranting at Lindy. What does she have to do with Ed’s death? She killed Ed by doing something to his car? Hang on, Cate died driving Ed’s car when she borrowed it. So Cate wasn’t supposed to die? The target was Ed? Somewhere in the deep dark and often unfathomable recesses of my mind, I recall Nicole in gossip-mode telling me how Lindy had tried her hand at loads of jobs before ending up working in the wardrobe business for TV productions. Didn’t she say that one of her many job has been a trainee car mechanic? Denver is off again now, so I focus and listen.

  “Instead you ended up killing my Cate!” he yells, leaning in close to Lindy. “Which meant I had to risk using that stupid wardrobe girl to take some of the goods down to the docks. I didn’t want to use a courier, which would have left a paper trail, so got her to take the gear. She had more of a brain than I gave her credit for though, checking what was i
n the package, guessing what was going on and then quitting the show and disappearing on us.”

  I scramble to take it all in. Did he say ‘my Cate’? So they were involved?

  “You messed up with the car, and ended up killing my daughter!”

  Daughter? I race through the information I have stored up about the case in my head. Cate’s mum had numerous flings and marriages, children from a few different relationships. She had one of those flings with William Denver? Cate was his daughter. Her father wasn’t listed as Denver when the guys did all the background checks but her mum must have told her who her real dad was. That’s why she got the big role in North Shores when she was a young unknown with little to no acting experience, because Denver pulled strings and got her the job.

  “Because you screwed up, you are going to pay with your own life. But first we need to get this boat out to sea far enough to dump you, and him.”

  Him? I dare to edge a little closer to the window of the cabin and tilt my head to peer at the rest of the space.

  And there, sprawled on the cabin floor, is Charlie. He looks unconscious, his shoulder at an unnatural angle, and blood staining the front of his shirt. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Brushing away the tears suddenly clouding my vision again, I force myself to breathe. Get a grip. He’s still alive, I tell myself, not willing to accept the alternative. There might still be time.

  Frantically, I look around for something I can pick up and throw to distract Denver. All I can spot is a bundle of life jackets. Releasing them with shaking hands, I swivel round and hurl them with all the strength I can muster onto the flat deck area behind the cabin door. They land with a thud and knock over a box. From my hiding place, I pull Martha’s gun from the back of my jeans and edge forward as Denver walks towards the cabin door to investigate the noise. As soon as he steps outside, I’m ready for him. Lifting my arm, I bring the gun down with a crack on the back of his neck. He groans and falls forward, landing in a heap on the deck. For a second I stare at him in horror. Have I killed him? Whatever, I don’t have time to debate that, I just hope he’s only unconscious. Right now, the priority is rescuing Charlie and Lindy and getting medical attention for Charlie as quickly as I can. I lift my phone to start summoning help and that’s when I hear a noise behind me. Has Charlie managed to get to his feet? Is it Lindy?