by Zara Keane
“No. I knew her before I started my joint.”
“You ate at her place, got food poisoning, and decided you could do better?” I half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Sorry. I resort to humor when I’m stressed. How did you get to know Theresa?”
He tugged on the skin under one eye. “Let’s just say frying food isn’t Theresa’s only occupation.”
My senses perked up. “You want to expand on that statement?”
“No.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “You’re the detective, Maggie. Go detect.”
“No fair, Magnum. I’m in pain. I’m struggling to remember what day of the week it is. Detection is way beyond my capabilities.”
His deep chuckle strained his shirt buttons. “Exaggerating much?”
Not by much, unfortunately. I breathed through the pain and marshaled my thoughts to the best of my limited abilities. Magnum’s caginess and defensive use of humor were deliberate ploys to throw me off the scent but off the scent of what? His past? Theresa’s? Given his lack of affection for the woman, he wasn’t protecting her.
“When did you open Magnum’s?” I asked, trying another tack.
“Three years ago, right after I lost my job,” he said without hesitation. “I took one of those classes run by the employment office and decided to start my own business.”
“Do you operate the truck year-round, or just during the summers?”
His mustache drooped. “Just the time I spend each summer on Whisper Island.”
I itched to ask him what he did to earn money for the rest of the year, but I sensed the question wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, I flipped the conversation back to Theresa. “The seasonal food-trucker community seems pretty tight-knit. How does Theresa fit in?”
Magnum snorted with laughter. “She doesn’t. She’s part of it because she’s been around for years, but she’s not pally with anyone.”
I nodded. I couldn’t imagine Theresa coexisting peacefully in any community. “Does she have any health problems that you know about?”
“Do anger management issues count?”
It was my turn to laugh. “Not quite. I’m talking about heart problems, diabetes, that sort of thing.”
“Not that I know of,” he replied, “but we’re not exactly confidantes.”
“What about enemies? Did you know she was receiving death threats?”
Magnum tugged on his mustache. It was a tell I’d noticed in some criminals when they were evasive with the truth. “Is that a fact? She must’ve upset someone good and proper.”
“Any idea who that someone might be?”
“Could be anyone. Over the years, Theresa fell out with just about all the food truckers.” His eyes moved to the cafeteria tent. “I’d better check on the kids. I don’t trust Sammy not to get into mischief.”
I agreed with the man’s assessment of his son, but I was sure Magnum was merely looking for an excuse to avoid more of my questions.
He cast a last look at the crowd blocking Theresa from our view. “I don’t care for the woman, but I hope she’s okay.”
“The coast guard should be here soon. They’ll transport her to the hospital.” Whether hospital care would help Theresa was an open question. I very much feared it was too little, too late.
After Magnum left, I had nothing to distract me from my throbbing wrist. Now that I no longer needed to be in coping mode, the pain-shock combo hit me with the force of a falling sandbag. The lights, the people, the noise whipped around me like my own personal tornado.
I didn’t notice I was falling off my chair until strong arms caught me and held me tight.
“Whoa, there, Maggie,” Liam said. “Now’s not the time to swoon.”
“I never swoon,” I said, indignant through the haze of pain.
He swept me up into his arms and carried me past a sea of curious faces. Groggy and nauseous, I closed my eyes to block them from my consciousness and pressed my face into the lace bodice of his dress. “See? I said you were my knight in shining satin.”
Liam’s laugh ruffled my hair. “Do you have the key to your tent? You need to lie down.”
“Maggie can use my room.”
A familiar voice. Beth? I opened one eye. My sister’s face was pinched with worry.
“Where’s your room?” Liam didn’t slow his pace, forcing Beth to jog to keep up with his long strides. I hadn’t checked his feet, but I assumed he was still in his stockings.
“It’s on the top floor of the East Tower. Will you be able to carry her all that way?”
“Jeez. I’m not that heavy,” I retorted, even though the same thought had crossed my mind seconds earlier.
Sensing my irritation, Liam gave me a reassuring squeeze. “I can manage just fine. We’ll save time if you come with us and open the door.”
“Of course. The key’s in a hidden pocket in my dress.” Beth’s anxious eyes met mine. “What happened to Theresa? Was it a heart attack?”
“I’m no doctor,” I said, “but it didn’t look like a regular heart attack to me.”
“I agree.” Liam’s expression turned grim. “I need to find out more about the woman. I’m hoping Maggie can help.”
“I’m not sure I have the brainpower to help anyone, but I’ll try.”
Before we reached the castle, Liam asked, “Which one is your tent? We can grab your stuff before we take you up to Beth’s room.”
I pointed at mine. “It’s the one next to the porta-potties.”
My sister had the good grace to look ashamed. “Give me the key to the tent. I’ll go in and pack Maggie’s things.”
“Shouldn’t take you long. The only items I took out of my case were the absolute essentials.”
Sure enough, it didn’t take Beth long to throw my belongings back into my case and join us outside. With Beth lugging my case and Liam carrying me, we reached the castle. Gone was the security guard who usually guarded the entrance. They’d all responded to the commotion of Theresa’s collapse and the ensuing pandemonium. Beth held the door open for Liam, and he carried me over the threshold.
“Down here,” she said, leading us into the narrow corridor to the left of the ballroom.
The corridor ended in a winding staircase that snaked up the East Tower. Presently, we reached the top landing. My sister stopped in front of a wooden door next to an arrowslit window. She withdrew a key from underneath her dress and unlocked the door.
Inside, the room was dominated by a four-poster bed. The decor was late medieval, but the en-suite bathroom was the epitome of modern plumbing.
Liam laid me gently on the bed and removed my shoes.
“Thanks,” I murmured, my eyes growing heavy with weariness.
“Before you get your beauty sleep, can you give me a short rundown of why you’re on Dolphin Island?” Liam shot a glance at Beth.
“She knows.” The floating sensation made it hard for me to focus. “Con hired me to investigate a series of suspicious accidents on the set.”
“I’m the target,” my sister interjected. “Isn’t that right, Maggie?”
I closed my eyes briefly, relishing the soft pillow beneath my head. “I’m not so sure. Gretchen—” I caught Liam’s question from his expression, “—she’s one of the professional dancers—was the target of the ballroom incident. Someone deliberately put Pledge on a specific area of the dance floor, causing Gretchen to slip and injure her foot.”
Beth pursed her lips. “That was only to make it look like I’m not the real target. Whoever’s doing this is clever.”
I met Liam’s gaze. “Beth and I will have to agree to disagree.”
“Can you give me a brief overview of the other suspicious incidents?” he asked.
I filled him in on what I knew so far, omitting speculation about Judd and Con and Judd’s argument with Merry. I’d wait until my curious sister was out of earshot before telling Liam about my suspicions that Judd had influence over Con.
When I’d finished, Liam was sil
ent for a moment, deep in thought. “Thanks, Maggie. We can talk more tomorrow. You look done in.” He turned to Beth. “Will you help her change into her nightclothes? I need to get back to Theresa and the others.”
“Sure.”
“Just help me get my jeans off and remove my sling,” I mumbled through my ever-thickening brain fog, “I don’t need to wear it at night, just the wrist brace.”
Liam brushed my cheek with his lips. “Sleep well, Maggie. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, fighting sleep.
I barely noticed him leave the room. Beth wasted no time in removing my jeans and my sling. She poured me a glass of water from a bottle on her bedside table and handed me a painkiller.
“Thanks.” I popped the tablet into my mouth and washed it down with sparkling mineral water. “I hope I’m not taking up too much space. You can pull me further over to the edge of the bed if you want.”
“Take all the space you need, Maggie. I’ll sleep in your tent tonight.” She grimaced. “It’s the least I can do for getting you into this mess.”
“Not your fault Theresa got sick.”
“No, but you’re not feeling well.” Beth bit her lower lip and looked down at me with anxious eyes. “I should’ve insisted Con talk to Liam instead of hiring you.”
I must look like hell if my sister was showing concern. “No worries. I was grateful for the job. I need the money.” I slurred my words, the exhaustion threatening to suck me into a vortex of oblivion.
Beth hovered by my bedside, uncertainty written across her pretty face. “I’d better let you sleep. Talk in the morning, Maggie.”
“Uh-huh.”
The world whirled around me. I couldn’t have kept my eyes open if I tried. On the periphery of my consciousness, a detail nagged. I’d seen or heard something relevant this evening, a detail my brain wouldn’t process. Colors swirled through my mind in a wild, dancing spectrum. Something about the marquee tent. The sound of a spoon clinking against a glass. Braying laughter. What was I missing? Still struggling to make my brain connect the dots, I fell into a deep sleep.
21
I awoke to the tantalizing aroma of coffee. My eyes fluttered open, and I slowly registered my surroundings. The four-poster bed, the throbbing in my wrist, the sunlight streaming through a narrow, stained-glass window. Con and the movie crew had lucked out with the weather.
And then the memories of yesterday came flooding back. I shut my eyes again, happy to block out the world for a while longer.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Liam kissed me on the lips. He tasted of coffee, reminding me of the delicious smell in the room.
I opened one wary eye. “Morning. What time is it?”
“Just after nine o’clock.” He grinned. “You’ve been asleep for over ten hours.”
I struggled to get into a sitting position, but my lousy wrist refused to cooperate. Yelping in pain, I collapsed back on my pillows.
“Here, let me help you.” Liam lifted me up and got me out of bed.
“Thank you. Getting used to my one-handed situation will take a while.” Now that I was vertical, I registered Liam’s stubbled jaw and the dark shadows etched beneath his eyes. “Where did you spend the night?”
“Con found me space in a tent. I didn’t want to leave Dolphin Island until I had clarity over what had happened.”
“And Hannah? Did she stay with you?”
He shook his head. “Melanie took her back to Whisper Island to spend the night at their house. The girls aren’t happy, but I insisted they don’t come back to the set today. Thankfully, Melanie was on my side.”
I took a deep breath and posed the question I’d been dreading to ask. “How’s Theresa?”
Liam’s expression was all the answer I needed.
My heart sank. “Oh, no.”
He grimaced. “I’m afraid so. She died in the early hours of the morning.”
Despite the warm sunshine spilling through the window, an icy sensation spread through my limbs. I shivered. Liam grabbed a blanket from a nearby chest of drawers and drew it around my shoulders. “Did the doctors say what caused her death?” I asked, pulling the blanket close around my body.
“They’re not sure. We’ll have to wait on the autopsy results.”
“Will you attend?”
“Yeah. I’m heading to the mainland in a couple of hours. The autopsy is scheduled for two o’clock.” Liam laid a gentle hand on my back. “I realize talk of food seems inappropriate after this news, but you need to eat.”
As if voicing its agreement with Liam’s assessment, my stomach rumbled loudly. Frankly, appropriate or not, I needed a distraction from dwelling on the possible ramifications of Theresa’s death. A jumble of thoughts tumbled through my mind. To think straight, I needed food and a painkiller to dull the throbbing in my wrist.
I forced a smile. “Is that bacon I smell? And coffee?”
“Yes on both counts.” He nodded at a small table at the side of the room. Two plates were covered with metal domes to keep them warm, and two glasses filled with orange juice sat beside them. “Take a seat, and we’ll talk over food.”
I shuffled over to the table and took a seat. I removed the metal cover to reveal a plate filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and two slices of toast. “Mmm,” I murmured. “Smells divine. I didn’t think the caterers were capable of making scrambled eggs this good.”
Liam settled on the chair opposite and poured two steaming mugs of coffee. “I invaded their kitchen, much to the indignation of the head chef, and made this food myself.”
I swallowed a forkful of egg. “This is delicious,” I said between bites. I took a sip from my mug. “Where did you score the coffee? No way is this the brown sludge I drank yesterday in the cafeteria.”
“I persuaded Con to let me use his coffee machine. He had the smarts to bring his own machine over to Dolphin Island, complete with his preferred coffee pods.”
“All hail Con.” I took another forkful of egg. “How’s he coping with the news of Theresa’s death?”
“He’s upset, but he perked up considerably when he learned I wasn’t shutting down his set—yet.”
I paused mid-forkful. “Filming will continue?”
“Yes. I have no authorization to stop him.” His tone indicated he wished it were otherwise. “Theresa’s death might be due to natural causes. There’s no reason at the moment to insist the set be shut down.”
I ate a few bites of food and let this information settle. “What if her death does turn out to be murder? What happens then?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Liam rubbed his jaw. “The chief superintendent wants filming to continue unless we have no choice but to intervene.”
“What does your gut tell you about Theresa’s death?”
He looked me straight in the eye. “That you know more about it than you’ve told me so far. How is it connected to the on-set accidents?”
I squirmed under his scrutiny. “I’m not sure it is connected. I haven’t done anything wrong here, Liam. Con and I were going to talk to you last night, after the scene wrapped. I couldn’t have known Theresa would collapse.”
“I get that, Maggie,” he said in a gentler tone. “I understand you can’t tell me everything about your work. I just have to ask the hard questions now.”
“Have you spoken to Con about the reason he hired me?”
“Yeah. The three of us have a meeting at ten to discuss it further.”
“There’s a good chance Theresa’s death had nothing to do with the accidents on set,” I began, “even if it was murder.”
Liam closed a hand over mine and the warmth soothed me. “Go on,” he said. “I’m listening.”
“Where do you want to start? Theresa or Con?”
“Let’s start with our corpse. What can you tell me about Theresa?”
“She was receiving death threats.”
He arched an eyebrow. “How do you kno
w? I didn’t think you two were close.”
“We weren’t. I couldn’t stand the woman. Not,” I hastened to add, “that I wished her dead.”
Liam removed his hand from mine and pulled a pen and notebook from his pocket, transitioning from boyfriend to cop mode. “Okay, tell me about the death threats. Who was making them?”
“That’s what Theresa wanted me to find out—before our tumble down the stairs. She stopped me in the street on Thursday and asked me to investigate.”
“What, exactly, did she tell you?”
“That she’d been receiving anonymous letters for several months, and she was sick of it. She wanted me to find out who was sending them.”
“Why didn’t you insist that she talk to the police?”
“I didn’t know the letters were death threats until I read one.” I took a sip of coffee and gathered my thoughts. “Long story short, Theresa gave me the most recent letter to read, but I was afraid the rain would render it illegible. I suggested we go to my office. She walked in, saw Lenny’s latest effort at special effects makeup, and freaked out.”
“Hence the fall down the stairs?”
“Exactly. I ran after Theresa to apologize, she slipped, and when I tried to break her fall, she ended up pulling me down with her.”
Liam clicked his pen and scribbled in his notebook. “What happened to the letter she’d given you?”
“It was still in my pocket. With all the hullabaloo after our fall, I forgot about it until I was getting changed upstairs. When I realized I still had her letter, curiosity got the better of me. I know I shouldn’t have, but I read it. The instant I saw its contents, I decided to persuade Theresa to go and talk to you.”
“Which she never did.”
“No.” I sighed. “It was such a run of bad luck. Before I had a chance to talk to Theresa, I had to go to the medical center and then to the hospital. By the time I got back, I barely had time to get to Con’s hotel to keep our appointment.”
“Do you still have the letter?” Liam asked, reaching out a hand on instinct.
I shook my head. “Before I caught the ferry yesterday morning, I swung by the caravan park and returned it to Theresa. I tried to convince her to talk to you, but she wouldn’t listen. Unless Theresa brought it with her to Dolphin Island, I presume it’s still in her caravan.”
