Engaged to Die (9 page)

Annie continued to look, but every second that passed made her surer than ever that O'Neill was standing up Virginia Neville. How could he do such a cruel thing? But how could he make love to Chloe in the fog when he was engaged to another woman?

Annie's heart went out to the slender woman walking up the platform steps, one hand holding the skirt of her lovely silver dress, the dress she'd bought to wear on the night her engagement was to be announced. Virginia moved as if her legs were heavy. She paused, gave one more sweeping glance the length of the tent. Her shoulders slumped, but she held her head high and came onto the stage. She tried to smile as she reached for the microphone. The effect was ghastly, the misery in her face only made more apparent.

“Thank you, Boston.” Her voice wavered. “I want to welcome everyone to the Neville Gallery's celebration of Boston Mackey's wonderful paintings. I want to thank Boston”—her voice steadied, grew a little stronger—“for his generosity.” She bent her head toward the vivid painting on the easel.

Boston Mackey gave a modest aw-shucks shrug, tugged at an ear lobe. He never looked toward Virginia.
Carl Neville hurried up the steps, holding a rounded fish bowl filled with pieces of paper. He bustled to Virginia. “Here are the slips.”

Virginia plunged one hand deep into the mound, brought up a pink slip. “Our winner tonight”—her voice was thin and stiff—“is Sally Morrison.” She held the slip high.

An excited squeal came from a row near the front and a heavyset woman in orange clambered to her feet. “I won. I won!”

Virginia handed the microphone to Carl. The gallery director's face creased into a puzzled frown as his father's widow walked away.

The artist picked up the painting, carried it forward. After helping the winner to her seat, the painting cradled in her arms, Boston returned to the platform. He stopped beside Carl. “Hey, it's time for the big announcement. Where's Virginia going?” He turned toward the audience, face cheery, voice booming. “Don't go way, folks. The show's just beginning.” He strode after Virginia. “Come on, Virginia. It's no time to be shy. Everybody loves lovers. This is your big moment. Where's Jake?” His big head swung around. “Come on, Jake. Get up here.”

Annie gripped Max's arm. “Oh, God, he's so full of himself. If he'd just look at her…” Mackey's every word was a blow to Virginia Neville. She stood frozen at the platform steps.

Still smiling, self-absorbed, a sponge for attention, Boston grabbed Virginia and pulled her to the center of the stage. “Okay, now.” He looked out at the audience. “Where's Jake?”

“Jake.” Virginia spoke his name in a whisper. She licked her lips. “He's…he'll be here in a few min
utes. I know he will. And then we'll—” She looked small and defenseless. “But for now, please, it's time to dance. Come on, everyone.” She gestured toward the crowd. “If you'll move toward the walls of the tent, the staff will pick up the chairs. The band is almost ready to play.” Behind her on the platform, the musicians were setting up. “Please, everyone have a good time.”

Annie grabbed Max's hand and pulled him outside. She exploded. “Max, we're going to find that jerk and drag him here by the scruff of his neck.”

“Annie.” Max combined warning, understanding, admiration, and exasperation.

Annie threw up her hands. She knew her threat was nonsense. She had no place in Virginia Neville's heartbreak. She scarcely knew the woman. But she knew Chloe, who had gripped her hands and pulled her into a rollicking dance because she was in love. All right. O'Neill was a stranger to Annie, and there was no reason he should care a whit what Annie thought or said. So that was that. But the party was over as far as Annie was concerned. How could she and Max whirl around a dance floor (and, oh, how Max loved to dance, especially a slow foxtrot. Annie knew music wasn't the attraction, but hey, it was nice to be wanted) having fun, happy and in love, always and ever in love, and know that within arm's reach was a broken-hearted woman waiting for a man who wasn't coming? Nope, Annie wanted to go home and leave behind the memory of Virginia Neville's stricken face. “Come on, Max. Let's go.” She swung away and headed out into the foggy night. Max caught up with her. “Stardust” lilted from the tent.

They were almost to the gallery when a siren wailed. The sound rose, increased, filled the night.
Abruptly, the shrill shriek cut off. Whirling red lights flickered from the service area behind the pines.

Annie stared at the irregular pattern made by the lights. Okay, there'd been a siren. Sirens were designed to capture attention. They didn't always signal disaster. Maybe it was too many shocks in one day, but Annie felt a sharp flicker of fear. She started to run.

H
EADLIGHTS FROM THE POLICE CRUISER
illuminated the service area. In the harsh glare, the chunky tough-faced caterer gestured wildly to the island's acting police chief. Billy Cameron leaned forward, one hand resting on the butt of his holstered gun, the other gripping a powerful flashlight. Billy had been part of the island police force ever since Annie moved to the island. He'd worked for Chief Saulter until Saulter's retirement and served as a sergeant to the island's new chief, Pete Garrett. When Pete's reserve unit was called up, Billy was named interim chief. He was well liked, a hometown boy familiar to most islanders from school or sports or church. Big, athletic, energetic, and good-hearted, Billy took his new duties very seriously. He listened intently, though his eyes checked out the shadows, as the caterer talked fast and pointed toward the pines and the path leading to the gardens. The whirling red light atop the cruiser continued to flash.

“The body's down by the old fort, Billy. I can show you the way.” Tony's voice was high and excited and he gulped for breath. “Lots of blood. The back of his head's bashed in. I may have seen the woman who did it. Come on.” He turned but came to a stop when he saw Annie and Max. He pointed at Annie. “Hey, Annie
came running this way, too. Three women raced this way tonight. Annie said the first girl was running from some kind of lovers' bust-up. I thought it sounded fishy.” His glance at Annie was questioning. “Anyway, the last one—Beth Kelly, she teaches at the middle school—ran past me a few minutes ago. I thought, what the hell, something's going on out there. I decided to take a look. I grabbed a flashlight from the van”—he held up a large black flashlight, the beam pointed skyward—“and hustled.” He glared at Max. “Women running for help and nobody giving them the time of day. Yeah, Annie was one of them.”

Billy strode up to Annie and Max. They blinked against the glare of his flashlight. Billy's thatch of blond hair looked hastily combed. He'd dressed hurriedly and his uniform shirt was misbuttoned. “What's going on here?” He lowered the flashlight so they weren't blinded, but he had a good look at them. His glance at Max was puzzled. “Somebody bother Annie?”

“No.” Max's answer was crisp. “We heard the siren and came to see what was happening. Earlier, Annie saw a girl coming this way and we tried to catch her.”

Billy's face furrowed. “You don't know anything about a body?”

Behind them came a sharp gasp. “A body? Dear God, what has happened?” Virginia Neville's voice was sharp and worried. She looked anxiously at Billy. “Officer, I came to the house and someone told me they'd heard a siren. We looked out and I saw the flashing light.” She gave a trembling sigh. “What else can go wrong tonight? This is the most dreadful night I've ever…” Her voice trailed away. She folded her thin hands into tight fists. “I hope it's not a fire. But there's
no smoke….” She glanced toward the police car. “You said there's a body. Has someone been hurt? Has an ambulance been called? Please, what is the matter?”

Billy looked harried. “Ma'am, I'm responding to a nine-one-one. If you and these folks”—he jerked his head toward Annie and Max—“will wait inside, I'll investigate.”

“Where is the person? Who is it?” Virginia Neville swung toward the front of the house. “Is it a car accident? Oh, dear heaven, was someone struck by a car?” She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “Nathaniel always worried about evening events. People don't see well at night, and they drive too fast.”

The caterer moved heavily toward her. “Mrs. Neville, you better go inside like Captain Cameron said. I'll take him down to the point. That's where the body is. And an ambulance won't do no good. He's dead as can be. His head's bashed in. And there's been women,” he said darkly, “running here and there all night.”

Virginia said uncertainly, “Tony, are you sure there's been a death? Maybe someone's hurt. Strange things happen at the point. We've heard that people buy drugs there late at night. I wish we could put up a fence, but it's a historic site. I suppose someone had a fight down there. Anyway”—her relief was evident—“it can't have anything to do with us.” Her mouth opened in a round O. “Oh, officer, I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound callous. But none of our guests would have any reason to go down there. The reception was in the house, and our program is in a tent in the north parking lot. It's too chilly and foggy for a walk. I don't mean to hold you up. I'll go in the house and wait, as you suggested.” She tried to smile at Annie and Max.

“Would you like to come with me? We don't want to delay the officer.” She turned toward the walkway, her voice faint and querulous. “I'm sure I don't know what to do. If only Jake were here…I'd better find Carl. It's always better to have a man.” She stumbled to a stop, flung out her hand toward several cars. “Oh, look, look!”

There was an instant of shocked silence. The caterer swung his big flashlight toward the cars. Billy bounded to her side, unsnapping his holster, flashlight beam bouncing. “What's wrong, ma'am?”

Hands outstretched, Virginia walked toward a battered black VW, an old one with running boards. Her fingers tangled in a raccoon tail that hung from the radio antenna. “Jake's car. I thought he'd left. How can his car be here and I can't find him anywhere?” Slowly, she turned and walked toward the caterer. She reached out, gripped one massive forearm. “Tony,” her voice wobbled, “I know I'm being silly. It can't be anyone I know. I'm just upset. You see”—her voice was high and thin—“I've looked everywhere for Jake. But not down there. There'd be no reason for him to go down there. Oh, God, Tony, it isn't Jake, is it? You'd have said if it was Jake.” Her voice cracked. “It can't be Jake. He got sick. That's what happened. He got sick and went home and he'll call me…. But his car's here. Somebody could have taken him home. Tony, tell me!”

The caterer's heavy brows knotted in a frown. “Mrs. Neville, I don't know who it is. All I saw was a guy sprawled facedown, the back of his head cracked in. That's all I saw.” He rubbed his cheek with his fist. “But he had on a tuxedo.”

“A tuxedo.” Virginia wavered on her feet. “Someone who was here tonight…”

Annie took two quick steps, slipped her arm around shaking shoulders. “Let's go inside.” Annie tried to turn the thin, trembling body toward the house.

Virginia Neville went rigid as a hard, thin strip of steel, then jerked away from Annie. With a sob she yanked the flashlight from the caterer's hand and began to run, her pace erratic and uneven.

“Ma'am. Ma'am.” Billy, his big flashlight bobbing up and down, caught up with her, blocked her way.

“Please, ma'am. All we have is an unverified report of a death. There's no need for you to be upset.”

“Unverified, hell.” The caterer's deep voice was a bellow. “Billy, you know damn well I don't make things up.” He strode past Billy and Mrs. Neville. “I'll show you.” He headed toward the pines.

Billy looked overwhelmed. He said urgently to Mrs. Neville, “Please wait in the house, ma'am. I'll check this out.”

Max bent toward Annie. “I'd better get my flashlight.” He moved swiftly to the Maserati, unlocked it, picked up the light from the seat.

Virginia Neville darted around Billy and ran after the caterer. “I have to see. And I'm”—her voice was shrill—“I'm Virginia Neville. The gallery is mine and all the land, and you can't make me stay here.”

“Hold up, people.” Billy's usually pleasant voice was harsh.

Virginia Neville kept going. Hasty stopped and waited, but she was almost out of sight.

Billy came even with the caterer. “Come on, Tony.” He hurried after the gallery owner, caught up with her, passed her. “Ma'am, stay behind me.”

Max bent near Annie. “We'd better follow them. Billy may need help with Mrs. Neville if…” He didn't finish.

Annie squeezed his hand. She'd never had any intention of remaining behind. Tony Hasty had already lumped the running women—herself included—with the discovery of the body. Annie was almost sure the first running figure had been Chloe Martin. Why had Chloe run? What had she been running from? Billy would ask a lot of questions and he would continue to ask until Annie answered to his satisfaction. There was no way Annie could avoid telling him about Chloe. If Billy got it in his head that Chloe had run from the dead man, Chloe was in trouble. Especially if the dead man turned out to be her mysterious lover on the pier. Surely not. But why was Jake O'Neill's car in this lot and Jake nowhere to be found?

The lights from the house didn't pierce the gloom of the foggy garden, but the strands in the live oaks cast a faint radiance on the oyster-shell path. The flashlight beams bounced along the walk, briefly touching the live oak limbs and dangling Spanish moss and dark mounds of shrubbery. Fog eddied and swirled like silver chiffon scarves in a ghostly dance. Their shoes crunching on the oyster shells, they curved around a pond, the water dark as velvet. The hiss and slap of the incoming sea became louder and louder as they neared the bluffs.

“I checked everything out. There's a gazebo”—the caterer pointed at the white wooden structure, strung with lights like the trees—“but nobody was there. Then I thought about the fort. If there's anywhere a guy could take a girl and nobody see them, that's the spot. That's how come I found him. I'd come along this way, just checking things out. If some bas—If some guy was out here bothering women, I'd give him something to think about. Though any girl with sense ought
to know something about a guy if she's going to come out to a place like this with him. I know all about the ruins. They hump up where the guns used to be. You can go up some steps to an overlook or go down to a platform built out over the rocks. There are a couple of benches there.”

The path changed from crushed oyster shells to hard-packed dirt as they left the Neville property. On the historic site, there were reminders of the recent nor'easter. Cracked and broken limbs from live oaks and magnolias littered the area. Big waves had flung ashore huge logs as well as bricks eroded from old plantations. The beam of Billy's flashlight swung over the debris and the white wooden sign erected by the Broward's Rock Historical Society: F
ORT
L
OOMIS
,
SITE OF
C
ONFEDERATE GUN EMPLACEMENT
. C
APTURED BY
U
NION FORCES
1861. Small letters at the bottom warned: R
EMOVAL OF ARTIFACTS PROHIBITED BY LAW AND PUNISHABLE BY
$1,000
FINE
.

The path ended in a paved circle near a clump of palmetto palms. Steps led up to a wooden overlook and down to a platform. The body lay on the uneven brick circle, facedown, hands outflung, shocking in the sharp brightness of Billy's flashlight.

The caterer pointed at the dead man, the outstretched hands shockingly white against the red brick. “You can see the back of his head's stove in.” The dark head was misshapen, the force of the blow depressing the skull.

Annie stared at bunched green taffeta poking out from beneath the body, Kelly green taffeta stained with blood.

“Jake…” Virginia Neville's cry was high and piteous, unbelieving, sick with horror. She dropped the
caterer's flashlight as if her hands had no strength. She stood rigid for a moment, then sobbed and tried to get past Billy. “We have to get help. Hurry. Call for help.”

“Don't move, Mrs. Neville.” There was no defying Billy's order.

The stricken woman wavered unsteadily, her breath coming in quick harsh gasps.

Annie hurried to her side, gripped her arm. Virginia's body trembled like high limbs in a gusting wind.

Billy picked his way over the shattered branches and palm fronds, the beam of light held close to the ground. Since the storm, the wind had laid down a carpet of dried pine needles over the bricks. Billy knelt by the body, slipped his fingers around an exposed wrist.

They waited in silence, the slap of the water the only sound.

Slowly Billy stood. He swung his flashlight in a wide arc, the beam sweeping the bricks, the ground beyond, and the thick bank of fog that masked the farther distance.

The caterer stepped toward Annie and Mrs. Neville to retrieve his flashlight. He added his beam to Billy's.

Annie supposed Billy was looking for a weapon, something that could have caused that brutal wound. There were pieces of wood, some of them hard and strong, and lumps of old brick everywhere the light touched.

Billy turned toward them, careful to retrace his steps, and stood near the trembling woman. “He's dead, ma'am. We have a homicide here.” He was unbuckling the cell phone from his belt. “Can you identify the body?”

“Jake…” Virginia Neville swayed. “I couldn't find
him. I looked everywhere. I never thought to come down here.”

Annie slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Billy, she's in shock. Let me take her back to the gallery. His name is Jake O'Neill. He and Mrs. Neville were going to announce their engagement tonight.”

Billy punched a number into the cell phone. “Yeah? But he got killed first. Okay, I'll check it all out.” He jerked his head at Annie. “You can take the lady up to the gallery.”

Tony Hasty pulled at the dangling earring in a cauliflower ear. “Listen, the girl that was running, the first one, she had on a green dress.” He pointed at the taffeta crushed beneath the body.

“What girl? Who was running? Where?” Virginia's voice was sharp.

Billy held up a hand. “We'll get into all of this later. I've got a crime scene to secure. You folks go on up to the gallery. Annie, tell everybody there to stay put—” Billy broke off, spoke into the phone. “Mavis, we got a homicide. Get on the horn.” Mavis was Billy's wife, and she also served as dispatcher for the Broward's Rock police. “Round up Lou and Doc Burford. Body's at the Fort Loomis ruins.” Billy's forehead wrinkled. “Listen, there's a big party up at the Neville Gallery. I'm gonna need some help. See if Frank can come.” He flicked a glance toward Max. “And maybe I can deputize Max Darling. You bring out the crime van.” He clicked off the cell phone, turned toward Max. “You got any connection with the dead man?”