Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 84
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
I tapped my chin as I looked at the shelves. Unless the person who used the gun didn’t want to toss it out. Unless it was valuable to him. A keepsake from a lifetime of hunting for treasure. I glanced around the room. But where would Mr. Barbery have hidden the gun if he had, in fact, used it to kill a man? I opened the drawers of his desk. Nothing but papers. I cast my eyes around the room again until they settled on a framed map on a wall in the corner.
I walked over and tugged at the frame and it came away from the wall on one side, exposing a hidden safe. Bingo. I looked behind me to make sure no one was watching me. I didn’t have much time before guests began arriving and crowding the vodka bar. I remembered hearing that people usually used birthdays and anniversaries for combinations or passwords. I didn’t think Mr. Barbery would be sentimental about his third wedding anniversary, but he would be about his only child’s birthday. I thought back to the first time I met Kristie for coffee at Baked and Wired and she’d let it slip that her birthday had been the day before so I’d insisted on getting her a cupcake. It had been the twenty-fifth of June. I twirled the knob of the safe with the numbers of the bride’s birthday then tugged. No luck. I swore under my breath. Wait, had she just turned twenty-seven? I tried again with the new birth year and the door swung open.
I stood up on my tiptoes to see into the back of the safe. There, in the back, lay the black gun, its long, encrusted barrel dotted with rust. I reached out to pick it up but stopped when I noticed a couple of gray hairs stuck on the handle, along with something sticky. I felt my heart begin to beat faster. It was one thing to think the gun might have been used to kill the harbormaster; it was another to see the bloody murder weapon. I wondered if the man died right here in this room.
“Calm down,” I whispered to myself.
What should I do? My mind raced as I stared at the heavy iron gun blackened from years underwater, then I slammed the door to the safe shut and swung the framed map back in place.
I felt my legs weaken, and I took a few steps so I could sink onto a leather couch. Did this mean Mr. Barbery killed the harbormaster? Was the charming father of the bride behind the accidents and fire, as well? I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense. What reason did he have for doing any of it? From what I could see, he had more motivation than anyone to keep the wedding going forward. He wanted a happy daughter and wife, and the accidents, fire, and murder didn’t make either woman happy.
I shook my head. No. There must be another explanation. Someone must have used the gun and left it in here to set up Mr. Barbery. If he’d actually killed a man with his own antique gun, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave it in his own study. Unless he wanted to make it look like he’d been set up. I rubbed my temples. I was going in circles.
I pulled out my phone, searched my call history, and hit redial. I breathed a sigh of relief when I got Reese’s voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said over the crackling line. “Annabelle. I found something on the ship you need to see. Call me when you get this.”
I felt slightly guilty that I hadn’t told him that I’d found the murder weapon, but I knew if I did he’d arrive with a forensic unit that would wreak havoc on the wedding. I couldn’t deal with Jeremy Johns on the loose plus a police invasion. This way I could get him to come down solo and then hit him with the bombshell.
I glanced over my shoulder at the map as I pushed my way through the glass doors to the outdoor lounge. I peered over the side of the ship and could see a steady stream of black umbrellas approaching from the end of the dock. At least the deckhands had listened to me and were escorting the guests on board.
I looked down one level and saw Kate standing near the service ramp, waving her arms at me and pointing to the catering tent. I waved back and started down the stairs to join her, even though I dreaded hearing what she might have to say. The catering tent meant Richard, and Richard meant drama, and I’d had about as much drama as I could handle for one lifetime.
37
“We’re going to get killed out here.” Kate’s voice barely carried over the howling wind and rumbling thunder of the storm.
“Hold on to the rope,” I yelled, pushing my wet hair off of my face with one hand and holding an umbrella over us with the other. The rain pelted me from the side and made the umbrella useless, but I still held it up.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Kate said, as she slid down the metal ramp in front of me, clutching the thin rope railing to keep from falling overboard.
When we reached the dock, we both ran to the catering tent a few feet away and pushed our way through the clear plastic sides.
“Well, it’s about time,” Richard said, his hands planted on his hips. “I rushed everything for you, and now it’s been sitting.” Richard’s usually perfect hair was curling around his temples the way it did when it rained and he hadn’t used enough styling cement.
“We’re ready,” I said, shaking out my umbrella on the rubber mats covering the floor. “Sorry for the delay.”
Richard wagged a finger at me. “Whose idea was it again to hold a wedding on a yacht, Annabelle? This is a disaster.”
“It’s a superyacht,” I corrected him, propping my wet umbrella against the white plastic sidewall of the tent. “And it would have been a perfect idea if it hadn’t rained.”
“This isn’t rain.” Kate wrung out the hem of her skirt. “It’s a monsoon. Speaking of disasters, Richard, what are you wearing?” Bold words from someone who wore one of the tightest evening suits I’d ever seen. I was surprised she could bend over without the whole thing ripping in half.
Richard glanced at the black trash bags he’d taped around his body with silver strips of duct tape. “If you have a better idea for protecting my Prada suit, I’m all ears.”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “You’re wearing Prada on a night like tonight?”
“You must be out of your mind if you think I’m going to cater a wedding on the most luxurious yacht ever docked at the District Marina and not wear designer.”
Richard would never dream of wearing off-the-rack for a six-figure wedding.
“Speaking of designer, did you see the dresses on the women in there? And the jewelry?” Kate nudged me with her elbow. “Do you think it’s all real?”
“Of course,” Kate said. “The stylist from Paris was telling me how many carats Mrs. Barbery is wearing. PS: It’s a lot.”
Richard’s eyebrows popped up. “All these stylists are really overkill.”
“Oh, you think that pushed it over the edge?” Kate ran her fingers through her hair. “Not the cake designer we flew in from Scotland or redecorating the entire ship in the stepmonster’s wedding colors?”
Richard made a face at Kate and then turned to me. “Are the waiters getting the drinks through the crowd?”
“Yes. I just wish we didn’t have to open the bars before the ceremony, but what can you do when this many people are stuck on a boat during a monsoon?”
“Nothing like cocktails to keep people occupied,” Kate said. “And we still have a lot of time to occupy.”
“Food or booze,” Richard said. “I just hope we have enough food. I know we have enough booze.”
A figure draped in a dripping tangerine orange tablecloth burst through the tent sides. “Did someone say booze? Because I don’t think I’ve had enough.”
Kate and I jumped back as the tablecloth splattered to the floor and Fern emerged, looking remarkably dry considering the rest of us appeared to have swum to the wedding.
“Where did you get that cloth?” I eyed the orange tablecloth lying in a wet, wadded mound on the floor.
Fern shrugged. “It was lying around and I couldn’t find a slumbrella.”
“Slumbrella?” Kate asked. “How much Champagne have you had again?”
Fern hiccuped. “Just a few.”
Kate eyed him. “Glasses or bottles?”
“Was the tablecloth lying around as in lying over a table to cover it?” I wasn’t as concerned about Fern drinking bubbly with the bridesmaids as I was about him snatching a cloth off a table. I didn’t remember having extra linens just sitting around and had a horrible vision of the bride catching a glimpse of a now-naked catering table with its knobby metal legs and particleboard top.
“Of course not,” Fern said, biting the edge of his lip. “At least I don’t think so. But I was in too much of a hurry to notice.”
“If those people sent you down here for food, you tell them they’ll have to wait . . .” Richard began.
“Is it Kristie?” I swallowed hard remembering how nervous the bride had been about the rain.
“No, no, no.” Fern waved his hands around his face as if shooing off a swarm of mosquitoes. “No one slent me. I came to tell Annabelle before anyone else did.”
“Tell me what?” I said, immediately running through the list of possible wedding catastrophes in my head. At least it wasn’t the bride; I mentally ticked her off my list. My mind leapt to the next natural problem. “Is it the stepmother? The stylist?”
Fern hesitated. “Maybe you should see for yourself.” He snatched my umbrella from where I’d propped it against the tent wall and slipped out between the plastic flaps.
“Great.” I grabbed a yellow napkin from a nearby pile and draped it over my head. I’d learned this trick by watching the waitstaff attempt to keep their heads dry while carrying trays onto the boat. If we didn’t need to blend in with the formally dressed guests, Kate and I would have worn hooded rain slickers, but I knew that look would never fly with the fashion-conscious stepmother.
“I’m right behind you,” Kate said, picking up her own napkin.
Richard threw his oven mitt down on the prep table. “Don’t even think about leaving me behind.” He turned to one of his chefs. “Get all the platters for the buffet ready, and I’ll be back to garnish.”
I adjusted my napkin so I could see past the dangling points and pushed my way out of the tent. The rain still beat down wildly, and it stung my cheeks as it blew from the side. I groped the few feet to the ramp and pulled myself up by the rope, my feet slipping on the slick metal. I was surprised we hadn’t lost a waiter or two to the dark water below and was grateful when I reached the top. Jumping onto the boat, I ducked in through one of the heavy glass doors, and then held it open for Kate and Richard to follow.
I pulled the sopping wet napkin off of my head and slicked back a dripping strand of hair. I usually wore my auburn hair pulled back in a simple bun, but the rain had ruined my look. Hair kept falling into my eyes, and I could only presume any trace of makeup had run off my face hours ago. I reminded myself I wasn’t here to look glamorous and meet men. Surprisingly, I had enough of those in my life already.
“This way.” Fern motioned us to follow him across the salon to the marble entrance foyer and gleaming gold staircase that led to the lower decks.
“Where are we going?” Kate asked. “The party isn’t down there.”
Fern placed a finger over his lips as if all the guests weren’t two decks above us putting away vast quantities of vodka. “You’ll slee.”
I wasn’t convinced Fern was sober enough to be leading a posse, but curiosity outweighed the voice of reason in my head.
We formed a silent procession down the twisting staircase to the lower deck with all of the guest bedrooms and the indoor gym. Fern opened a door and I saw deck chairs stacked up to the ceiling.
“Oops,” he said. “Wrong one.”
He opened the door next to it, and I felt the rush of humidity. The glass door to the steam room hung open across from us and had filled the gym with a warm haze. Like every room on the boat, the gym used space efficiently with one elliptical machine, one treadmill, and one universal weight contraption filling the room.
“I couldn’t find the switch to turn it off,” Fern explained with a cough. The steam smelled like eucalyptus, and I couldn’t resist taking a deep breath.
Kate waved a hand in front of her. “Why is the steam room on during the wedding?”
“Is someone in there?” I narrowed my eyes and could just make out a figure slumped against the tile bench. “And are they fully dressed?”
“All right, buddy.” Kate called into the room and clapped her hands. “Party’s over. This floor is off-limits.”
I felt my skin go cold despite the heat billowing from the steam room. “Oh, no,” I said as the body slipped off the bench and rolled onto the floor with a splash and a thud. I could see the water on the floor was tinged pink. “Not again.”
Richard jumped back as droplets of warm water hit our legs. “Is that . . . ?”
I splashed over to the limp body and turned him over to feel for a pulse. “Yep.”
Kate gave a small scream when she recognized his face. “Is he . . . ?”
“Dead,” Fern said. “I checked already.”
I pulled my fingers away from the dead man’s neck and stepped back. “But what’s he doing in here?”
No one had an answer for me, so I rubbed my temples and tried to convince myself this wasn’t happening. You’d think it would be easy to avoid dead bodies at weddings, but either I had the worst luck in the world or the universe was telling me I should quit wedding planning and become a coroner.
38
“Is that really who I think it is?” Kate took a step back and her feet splashed in a puddle, sending droplets of water onto the body.
I took in the wet tuxedo and sandy blond hair sagging limp across the forehead, which had lost its healthy glow. The skin had begun to take on a gray hue underneath the tan, and the blue eyes were wide and unseeing. I fought back a moment of nausea and jerked my eyes away from the body. Luckily, I was running on no food. Otherwise I might have been in serious danger of losing my lunch.
Fern tapped a finger to his chin. “It’s Brody all right.”
Kate put a hand to her mouth and shook her head. “This is a tragedy.”
I looked from Fern to Kate to Richard. “This is bad.”
“Dead bodies usually are, Annabelle,” Richard said. “I think the heat is getting to you.”
I stamped my foot and water splashed around my ankle. “Listen. If Brody is dead, then somebody killed him.”
“Do you think it’s Jeremy?” Kate asked. “He is on the lam.”
“But why would Jeremy want to kill Brody?” Richard asked.
“Maybe Brody cornered him and Jeremy killed him in self-defense.” I didn’t like the nagging voice in my head reminding me about the bloody gun.
“Brody’s a pretty big guy.” Kate’s voice cracked. “He could definitely take Jeremy.”
She had a point. I would have picked Brody to come out ahead of the twitchy designer any day. “But if Jeremy didn’t kill him, who did?”
I thought about the gun I’d found in Mr. Barbery’s study. The gun that may have killed the harbormaster. And now there was another person killed by a blow to the head.
“Maybe it was Mr. Barbery,” I said.
Kate’s head snapped toward me. “What? Why?”
I hesitated for a moment. “I found the missing gun in his office safe, and it has blood on it. Unless I’m really wrong, that’s what killed the harbormaster. I already knew that Mr. Barbery met with the man in his study on the day of the murder. What if he’s behind all this?”
“No way.” Kate shook her head. “He’s too nice to be a killer. And his own stepson?”
“He spent years as a treasure hunter. I have a feeling that’s the kind of job where you have to skirt the law more often than not. He might not be as aboveboard as he’d like us to think.”
“But murder?” Kate said. “What’s his motive? From the moment we met him he’s said making Kristie happy is the most important thing to him. Dropping dead bodies in the middle of her wedding definitely won’t make her happy.”
I looked down at the inert body then jerked my eyes away. “I know, but the evidence is pointing in his direction.”
“Someone else could have killed the harbormaster with his gun,” Richard said. “So many people have been off and on this ship over the past week, it could have been anyone.”
“Mr. Barbery has always been lovely to me.” Fern pressed a hand to his chest as he stared at Brody. “I can’t imagine him doing something like this.”
Kate touched Fern’s arm. “Agreed.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “Well, now that these two have exonerated all the suspects who are charming, can we get back to the matter at hand?” He gestured to the body. “Can we tell how long he’s been dead? That would help us determine who might have done this.”
“Not long,” Kate said. “We just saw him about fifteen minutes ago with the captain. Should I go find Daniel and let him know?”
I grabbed her arm. “Wait a second. As soon as the police know there’s been a murder on board, they’ll stop the wedding. This will become one big floating crime scene. I already called Reese to tell him about the murder weapon. I’d rather be able to talk to him before calling in the cavalry.”
Richard gaped at me. “Are you suggesting we don’t tell anyone the bride’s stepbrother got steamed to death?”
“As soon as we do, the ship will be locked down. What harm would it do to wait until Reese calls me back?” I glanced at the clock on my phone. “We could move up the ceremony and be done in thirty minutes.”
“The girls are all ready.” Fern gave a small hiccup. “I can have them lined up in five.”
Richard pretended to put his fingers in his ears. “I am not hearing this. Won’t Kristie notice Brody’s missing?”
