Dead Girl in a Green Dress (3 page)

"You’ve been here before?"

"Once.
Family vacation, over twenty years ago." He found himself fascinated by her golden eyes, and his words seemed to tumble out. "I was fifteen or sixteen, don’t really remember that much. But I know for sure we didn’t stay in that fancy Grand Hotel." He hadn’t meant to say that much and took a sip of his iced tea to stop talking.

Byrony
gave a little nod of understanding. "Jessica couldn’t believe she was working there, even as an assistant housekeeper. Her dorm-mate and two other girls applied for jobs, so Jessica did too, and she was the only one who got hired…." Her voice trailed away, and she grabbed her own water glass and took a big gulp.

He squirmed with guilt and sympathy. "She must have been very special."

"She was." Her low tone wavered a bit.

 
Tate wanted to tell her he would find her sister’s killer, but he honestly didn’t know if he would be able to. He hadn’t worked homicide when he was a cop, and what he’d seen and heard about the case so far didn’t look promising. So as much as he wanted to reassure
Byrony
Long, he couldn’t bring himself to out-and-out lie to her.

Chapter 3

The next morning,
Byrony’s
phone rang halfway through her blueberry waffle. She washed down a bite with a large sip of coffee before she answered.

"Morning," Tate Madison’s sexy voice greeted.
"Sergeant Brandon and I will be there in about ten minutes. Oh, and I asked him to bring a buggy."

Her mouth fell open in surprise for a moment before she managed to say, "Thank you. The Ames House is at – -"

"
Don’t worry
,
Sarge
knows where it is," he interrupted. "See you in a few."

Hastily,
Byrony
munched her remaining strip of bacon and took another gulp of coffee before she rose from her chair. Then she hurried to her room to get her purse and hooded sweatshirt. The rather surly innkeeper, Mrs. Giroux was already clearing the table when she returned moments later.

"It was delicious, but I have an appointment, sorry."

The woman paused long enough to give an annoyed sniff. "Perhaps you’d prefer breakfast at 7:30 tomorrow?"

"Okay, fine,"
Byrony
agreed, pulling on her sweatshirt.

Swinging her purse over her shoulder, she headed out to the front porch to wait. Apparently most of the businesses didn’t open at 8:30 in the morning, because the street was empty in both directions. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked for messages. Only one from Paige, who assured her that Tate was an excellent investigator and just ignore his occasional crankiness. Good to know it wasn’t just her….

 
The clomping of hooves snapped her head up. Two large horses approached pulling a flatbed wagon.
Byrony
thought it looked like a delivery vehicle, not the ‘buggy’ Tate had claimed. But as the conveyance drew closer, she saw the man holding the reins wore a khaki uniform, and Tate Madison sat on the seat next to him. Shoving her phone into her pocket,
Byrony
hurried down the porch steps. She reached the front gate at the same time the horses and wagon pulled to a halt.

"Ye gods!"
She heard Tate declare. "Who lives here?
The sugar-plum fairy?"

The uniformed man shook his head. "Yeah, tourists love this
sh
—" He broke off as
Byrony
walked out the gate.

"Morning, Sunshine," Tate greeted. He alighted from the wagon seat to the sidewalk so easily that his leg must not have been hurting like it had been last night. "Sergeant Nick Brandon, Miss
Byrony
Long."

The sergeant, who couldn’t have been more than thirty, touched the wide brim of his trooper hat. "Miss Long."

"Your carriage
awaits
." Tate gave a half-bow and swept out his arm with a flourish.

"Sorry," Sergeant Brandon said in a contrite tone. "The police wagon is in the shop. Mr. Madison said you didn’t ride, so I borrowed this one from the livery."

"I appreciate it."
Byrony
hoped she sounded more sincere than she felt as she ignored Tate and climbed up onto the seat. He followed after her, wedging her tightly between the two men.

"Nicky? Is that you?" Mrs. Giroux rushed down the steps and out the gate. She cast a startled look from the sergeant to
Byrony
and Tate. "Is this an official call?"

"Hi Aunt Char." The Sergeant’s tone sounded uncomfortable. "Kind of official, but don’t worry. It’s just that Miss
Long’s
sister was the victim we found three weeks ago."
 

The innkeeper gasped theatrically.
"The dead girl in the green dress?
Oh, my God! We can’t let people start talking about that again. It’ll destroy what little bit of business we have left!"

Her sister had been murdered and this woman was only concerned about her business?
Byrony
felt the blood rising in her face and she clenched her hands into fists.

"Don’t worry, Aunt Char." Strain was apparent in the young man’s voice. "The guys in Mackinaw City are handling the case. I’m just taking Miss Long to pick up her sister’s things. See you later."

Before the woman or
Byrony
could say anything more, he clucked to the horses and flapped the reins. The wagon lurched away, throwing
Byrony
halfway into Tate’s lap. She jerked herself upright and sat stiffly, trying vainly not to lean into either man.

"She’s not really my aunt," Nick Brandon explained when they were out of earshot. "She’s my mom’s cousin, and an old busybody. Her family doesn’t even own the house any more. They sold it about twelve years ago, and she runs it in the off-season."

"I suppose in a place this
small,
everybody knows everybody else’s business." Tate gave voice to the same thought running through
Byrony’s
mind.

Brandon shrugged with one shoulder. "
Us
year-round folks don’t bother much with the people who’re only here for the season.
There’s
a lot of them and they just stick around three months."

"Don’t some come back every year?" Tate asked.

"A few."
The other man turned the corner and urged the horses a little faster. "But the novelty of this place wears off pretty quick for most people."

Considering how bumpy the wagon ride was,
Byrony’s
disenchantment couldn’t happen much faster. She hoped all her fillings weren’t jarred loose by the time they got to where ever they were going. Next time she would insist on riding a bike.

Another vehicle approached from the opposite direction and as it drew closer,
Byrony
recognized the black coach and horses from the Grand Hotel. Tingling unease crawled up her spine and she couldn’t draw in her breath quickly enough. The driver must have recognized Sergeant Brandon for he touched his top hit in greeting as they passed, and Nick returned the gesture.
Byrony’s
uneasiness erupted into a shudder.

"Whoa, Sunshine."
Tate’s fingers curled around her upper arm.
"You all right?"

Chagrined, she shook off of his grasp. "I’m fine."

Nick cast
her an
anxious sideways glance. "You don’t have to go. I’ll take you back to town."

"No, I want to go," she insisted. "It’s just – that black carriage and horses give me the creeps."
Definitely an understatement on her part.

"They’ve used those carriages and teams for as long as I can remember," Nick explained with another shrug. "Tourists expect them."

Byrony
couldn’t imagine wanting to ride in that spooky vehicle.

"They must have to custom order them." Tate interrupted her thoughts.

Nodding, Nick confirmed, "We custom order just about everything, even these manure catchers strapped under the horses’ tails. Of course, not everybody uses them. That’s why the pooper scoopers are the most important employees on the island."

Tate chuckled. "I believe it."

Byrony
realized their banter was for her benefit, and it had actually worked. The tension knotting her neck
and
 
shoulders
had vanished. She stopped fighting the movements of the wagon and swayed with them instead. The rhythmic clomping of the horses’ hooves sounded soothing.
 
For a few minutes, she enjoyed the passing scenery, trees with leaves turning gold and red, then on the right the bright green swath of a golf course appeared. But when they rounded another bend in the road, she glimpsed the five story hotel on the top of the hill, and the whole situation with Jessica’s death came crashing back.

Quickly turning away, her gaze collided with Tate’s knowing blue eyes. She cleared her throat and looked at her feet. "Um, isn’t this kind of an isolated area?"

"Makes sense that they’d put the livestock and barns on the back of the property. Plus, I’m guessing there are more folks around during the summer, right
Sarge
?"

"Yep," Nick verified and he clucked to the horses again. "Also, the livery is a notorious hang out for the younger employees. They party out here a lot."

"Was
– "
Byrony
took a deep breath and pushed her words out. "Was there a party the night Jessica…" In spite of her efforts, she couldn’t finish.

Sergeant Brandon shot her another sideways glance. "If there was, nobody called me or my guys out to break it up." He turned the horses up a
slope,
and into a dusty yard in front of a long, low barn. "We have to walk from here," he said, pulling the horses to a halt.

A short, wizened man called a greeting and hustled over to hold the horses’ heads while Nick Brandon climbed down. On
Byrony’s
other side, Tate also swung easily to the ground. She looked from one side to the other, not sure which way to go.

"Hang on a minute." Tate picked up a block of wood sitting beside the barn door, and placed it next to the wagon.

Clutching his outstretched hand for balance,
Byrony
stepped down to the block of wood, then the ground. Acutely aware of the warmth of his fingers, she pulled away and muttered her thanks. As the stableman led the horses away, the Sergeant motioned to them. Tate fell into step with her as she followed the young policeman around the end of the barn and onto a trail that led down the wooded slope.

The path quickly narrowed, and Tate let her walk in front of him. But as soon as she saw the remnants of yellow crime tape, she stopped short. The leaves and branches blurred in front of her while a sob wrenched itself from her throat. Then she felt Tate’s large hands on her shoulders. Whirling blindly, she buried her face into the soft flannel of his shirt and sobbed again.

"I never should have let you come out here," Tate murmured, his lips close to her ear.

The note of pity in his voice stirred her determination. She had to stop acting like a helpless ninny. Jessica deserved better. Drawing in a deep breath, she straightened her spine and stepped back. "I’m okay."

***

A wave of guilt washed over Tate. He knew damn well
Byrony
was a long way from being okay, and it was pretty much his doing. He’d dealt with difficult clients in the past without being a jerk. So why was he being one now with her?

Nick Brandon gave him a questioning look but before Tate could respond,
Byrony
stepped over to the yellow tape. Her voice was low but steady. "Were you the first policeman to see her?"

Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Brandon nodded. "One of the livery workers found her, but I responded to his call. She had no ID on her, but the guy recognized her."

Byrony
seemed to have transformed into a marble statue, standing stiffly with no response to anything around her. Tate couldn’t tell if she was listening, but watching her wasn’t solving this case.

He pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket and got down to business. "I know the detectives in Mackinaw City questioned the guy, but I’d like to talk to him myself. Is he local?"

"Actually, he’s one of those seasonal people
who’s
worked here for three or four years." Nick continued to cast worried glances at
Byrony
. "Name’s Cody Henry and he lives over in St.
Ignace
. You won’t have a problem finding him."

Tate jotted the name and squinted at his other notes before he asked, "You think the
perp
laid in wait for Jessica? Or moved her here from some other place?"

Nick’s gaze snapped over to meet Tate’s. He definitely had the Sergeant’s full attention now. "Moved her? I never thought about that."

"I don’t think the detectives did either," Tate mused. He skirted the edge of the site, studying it from a couple of different angles. "Was it trampled up like this when you got here?"

"Afraid so," Nick admitted with a sigh. "Cody tried to revive her, and hollered like crazy. Half the livery workers were out here by the time I arrived. The Mac City guys were pissed as hell." He stopped abruptly and touched the brim of his hat. "Pardon, Miss Long."