Wedding Day Murder (12 page)

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Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Wedding Day Murder
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“Ah, a present from Kat . . . I bet it's going to be naughty,” said Sidra as she untied the bow and lifted the top off the next box. When she saw what was inside, she shrieked.
“What could it be?” Pam wondered aloud.
“A sexy nightie?” Lucy guessed.
“Not quite,” Rachel said drily as Sidra held up a black leather mask, a whip, and a pair of gloves.
“It's the whole outfit,” volunteered Kat. “Just in case Ron gets out of hand.”
The women on the boat were silent. Even Thelma seemed at a loss for words, choosing instead to fan herself with a napkin.
“What size do these come in, anyway?” asked one of the WIBs.
“Mean, meaner and meanest,” replied Kat, sending Sidra and the other WIBs into gales of laughter.
Lucy decided to take advantage of the moment to slip away and look for Sue. She found her, predictably, at the bar. Perched on a stool, she was telling the bartender all about her troubles.
“Jusht don' reck, reckanize my own daughter,” said Sue, shaking her head sadly. “The lil girl I raised wouldn't ack like thish.”
“How's it going?” asked Lucy, taking the seat beside her.
“Know tha' movie—
Vasion of the Body Sna-snashhers?
Thass wha's happened. They've snashed Sidra. She looksh like Sidra and talksh like Sidra, but she's not.”
From what Lucy had seen, she thought Sue might be on to something. “Did you talk to her about the wedding plans?”
Sue nodded and drained the last of her drink.
“She sez whatever Thelma wansh is fine with her—doesn't want to alee—aleenate her mother”—Sue hiccuped—“in-law.” She passed her drink to the bartender. “Fill 'er up.”
In response to his glance, Lucy mouthed the word “tonic.” He nodded in understanding and made the drink without adding any gin.
Sue took a swallow and Lucy held her breath.
“Mmm, good,” said Sue.
“C'mon,” said Lucy, standing up. “Let's go up to the top deck and get a good spot for the fireworks. They'll be starting soon.”
“Goo' idea.”
Sue wasn't too steady on her feet, but Lucy managed to get her up the stairs and out into the fresh air. From below, they could hear the women's voices as Sidra worked her way through the pile of presents, but they had the upper deck to themselves. Lucy led Sue to a pair of deck chairs by the railing and they sat down, looking out over the harbor. A crowd had gathered in the parking lot and on the hills around the harbor, but Lucy and Sue couldn't see them from where they sat. A few boats bobbed about, filled with people waiting for the fireworks to start, but for the most part the harbor was dark and peaceful. The water gleamed black with silver reflections from the lights on the boats. Anytime now the fireworks would start.
Lucy noticed Sue's head drooping. At last, she was finally drifting off. Sitting beside her, Lucy took a moment to reflect. She could imagine how she would feel if Elizabeth behaved as Sidra had, and how horrified she would be if her college friends turned out to be like the WIBs. Lucy clucked her tongue, watching as a single rocket screamed into the night sky and exploded in a burst of light—a blossom of fiery sparks that bloomed and faded.
Soon the sky was filled with exploding fireworks, and the party moved to the upper deck, crowding around the railing facing the harbor.
Sue woke and, guessing that her greenish pallor was not the reflection of the fireworks, Lucy helped her up and led her downstairs. Unsure where the head was located, Lucy steered her toward the railing, just in case.
“Don' fee-el goo',” said Sue.
“Look at the fireworks,” Lucy urged, hoping to distract her.
Sue clutched the railing and leaned over. Here we go, thought Lucy, but she was wrong. Sue was pointing to the water.
“Whaash tha?”
Lucy looked down and saw something white.
“A reflection?”
“No.” Sue leaned over farther and Lucy grabbed the back of her dress.
“Whoa, there. You're going to fall in.”
“Thas wha' happened. Somebody fell in.”
Lucy looked again. Sue was right. Whatever was floating there did resemble a human shape.
“It's probably garbage or something,” said Lucy, looking up as a giant rocket exploded overhead, filling the sky with light. In the distance she heard a boat motor start up, and she felt the yacht rock slightly under her feet as the wake hit.
“Not garbage.” Sue tugged her sleeve. “Look.”
Lucy looked and saw the white form now had arms and legs and a head, all floating a few inches below the surface of the water. Another wave came and the body rolled over. Even in the dim light, Lucy was sure it was Ron. The recognition hit her like a tidal wave, and she found herself gripping the railing with every bit of her strength.
Sue moaned. “I'm gonna be sick.”
Chapter Thirteen
L
ucy forced herself to unclench her hand and wrapped an arm around Sue, who promptly retched and heaved over the side. For a moment, everything receded to a distant point while she struggled to overcome her own queasiness. She set her teeth, took slow, steady breaths, and locked her gaze on to the beam of light streaming from the lighthouse on the point.
“Does the lady need some assistance?” inquired one of the stewards.
Lucy had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
“Oh, yes,” she said, pointing to the water. “There's a body.”
The steward leaned over the rail, then snapped upright as if he had received a jolt of electricity.
“Don't move,” he said. “I'll get help.”
Lucy tightened her grip on Sue, who was bent over the railing and moaning, and started to count. She had gotten to twenty-seven when the steward returned with a splendidly uniformed man, whom Lucy took to be the captain, and a couple of crewmen. The steward hustled Sue off to a cabin, the captain ordered the crewmen into a small boat to check the body, and Lucy was led to a chair.
“What happened?” demanded the captain, keeping his voice low.
“We were watching the fireworks and my friend felt sick. We went to the back of the boat and there he was.” Lucy bit her lip. “I think it's Ron Davitz.”
One of the crewmen returned and whispered something in the captain's ear.
“Not a word to anyone,” cautioned the captain. “I'm calling the police and confining the party to the grand saloon.”
“What about me?” Lucy asked.
“You will stay where you are.” He nodded at the crewman, who took a position behind her chair.
Lucy obeyed, waiting while the captain made a brief announcement and crew members ushered the group of women inside. She thought of Thelma and Sidra, still unaware of the terrible news they would soon hear. She thought of Sue, sick and alone belowdecks.
“Can't I go to my friend?” she asked the crewman.
“Sorry. Captain's orders.”
The boat rocked slightly, and she thought of the body floating against the side of the boat. Ron's body.
“Is he still in the water?” she asked.
“Captain's orders were to remove him only if there were signs of life.”
“Were there?”
He shook his head.
Lucy looked at him more closely and saw that he was no older than Toby. It was then that tears sprang to her eyes and she started to shake with sobs. The crewman put a hand on her shoulder and handed her a tissue. She sat there miserably, dabbing at her eyes, waiting for the police.
The last of the fireworks had fizzled to ashes, and only a few stragglers remained in the parking lot when the police arrived quietly, without sirens or flashing lights. Lucy, lost in her own thoughts, wasn't even aware they were on the scene until she was told the lieutenant wanted to talk to her and was ushered to a cabin.
As she expected, it was Lieutenant Horowitz. He was with the state police and responsible for investigating serious crimes in the area. Lucy and he had crossed paths many times before.
“Mrs. Stone,” said the lieutenant, greeting her with his usual sad expression, “please sit down.”
Lucy perched on the end of a bunk. The lieutenant was sitting only a few feet away in the tiny cabin, at a small desk that was mounted on the wall. They were so close that she couldn't avoid his gray eyes. She saw there was a poppy seed stuck between his teeth.
“Just start at the beginning,” he said.
Lucy looked at her lap. When, exactly, was the beginning, she wondered. What incident had started the chain of events that had resulted in Ron's death? She looked at Horowitz blankly, noticing that the ceiling light glinted on the stubble that was reasserting itself on his clean-shaven chin.
“This was some sort of party?” he prompted.
“A wedding shower for Sidra Finch. She's engaged to Ron Davitz. He and his mother are visiting on this yacht to plan the wedding.”
“When did you get here?”
“Seven, maybe.”
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“It was just a typical party. . . .”
Horowitz interrupted. “You call this typical? You go to a lot of parties on million-dollar yachts?”
“Ron's quite wealthy. He's supposed to be the next Bill Gates.”
Horowitz raised his eyebrows.
“Like I said, it was a wedding shower. There were food and drinks. Sidra opened presents and then everybody went to the upper deck to see the fireworks.”
“That's when you noticed the body?”
She nodded. “My friend, Sue Finch, Sidra's mother, had a little too much to drink. She felt sick so we moved away from the others, down to the lower deck. That's when we saw the body.” Lucy paused. “Is it Ron?”
“The body hasn't been identified yet.” Horowitz scratched his long upper lip. “Did you hear any splashes, an altercation, anything like that?”
Lucy took a sharp little breath. She remembered Sue telling her about Sid's gun. Could Ron have been shot? Could Sid have done it?
“Was he shot?” she asked.
Horowitz looked at her closely. “Did you hear a shot?”
“There were fireworks,” she said.
“Yes.” Horowitz's face was expressionless.
Lucy had to know. “Do you think he was shot?”
“I told you, we haven't recovered the victim yet.”
“You said ‘victim.' Does that mean it's homicide?”
“I don't know if he's a homicide victim or an accident victim. Right now, we've got a victim victim.” Horowitz narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you're not telling me?”
“No.” Lucy shook her head. From far off, she heard the rumble of thunder.
“I hope you're telling the truth.”
“I am.” She nodded.
He looked at her skeptically. “And you're going to leave this investigation to the police, right?”
“Of course.” She pursed her lips. “Can I see Sue now?”
“Not until I've questioned her. Do you have your car here?”
“Yes.”
“Can you drive?”
She nodded.
“Then I think you should go home.”
“Home?” Lucy was dumbfounded. Everything was all right at home. She was needed here. She couldn't leave Sue and Sidra. And what about Thelma? All three survivors would need sympathy and support. “They need me here.”
“They're in good hands. Trust me.” He opened the door and nodded at the uniformed trooper outside.
Lucy realized with a shock that she'd been under guard the whole time. Was she a suspect, or was this just standard crime scene procedure?
“Good night, Mrs. Stone.”
She nodded mutely and followed the trooper off the boat and out to the parking lot, where a flash of lightning illuminated the scattered cars.
“Will you be all right? Do you want an escort?” asked the trooper. Lucy could hardly hear him over a thunderclap.
“I'll be okay,” said Lucy, opening the door. But as she started the car, she realized that she was definitely not okay. Her emotions were a confused jumble of horror and anger and, most of all, fear. She was terrified of the revelations tomorrow might bring.
She shifted into gear and drove off as the first raindrops started to fall.

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