Some Like It Shot (Movie Club Mysteries, Book 6)

by Zara Keane

  I slid onto the floor of the boat beside Quibbles. Tears of pain, frustration, and fear cascaded down my cheeks. I pulled my phone from my pocket and found Sile’s number. “Come on, come on. Connect.”

  I got the beep of death that informed me she was unavailable to take my call. I hurled the phone down and clutched my head in my hands. Breathe, Maggie. Think. Stay calm.

  Quibbles nudged my left hand. I pulled it back, afraid the cat would attack again, but nothing happened. Strange. My gaze fell on the cat. He’d found a toy on the deck of the boat. At least it was distracting him from adding more scratches to me. And then a glint of silver between the cat’s paws caught my eye. A familiar silver key fob.

  I sat up straight, instantly on the alert. “Oh, my goodness, Quibbles. You found the key.” It must’ve fallen out of Lenny’s grasp when he’d wrestled me out of my life jacket. “Good boy. Nice kitty cat.”

  I reached to take the key. Quibbles, indignant that his newfound prize should be stolen, hissed, arched his back, and went on the offensive. Yeah, this was the Quibbles I knew and didn’t love. The cat launched his large orange-furred body at me and clawed every piece of bare skin he came into contact with. Panting, and with a cat physically attached to me, I closed my hand around the key and felt my way to the engine.

  “Bad cat,” I gasped as Quibbles clawed at my face. “Evil cat.”

  Lashing out at the animal attached to my head, I somehow managed to work the key fob and start the engine.

  We shot out of the harbor with a roar, leaving a mighty wave of water in our wake. Instead of detaching the cat from my face, the force of our departure made him cling on with increased ferocity.

  “Not. Happening.”

  With all of my strength, I prised the cat from my face and threw him onto the deck. Gasping, I collapsed against the wheel. The boat was totally out of control and heading in the wrong direction. Unless I wanted to end up in Galway, I had to regain control.

  My injured wrist refused to cooperate, but I managed to turn the wheel with my good hand.

  Okay, “good” was an exaggeration. Quibbles had left claw marks all down my left hand to my wrist, adding to the damage he’d inflicted upon me at the caravan park. Still, the hand functioned. Within a minute, I had us under control—more or less.

  Now that we were speeding toward Dolphin Island, I tried Beth’s number. No reply. I had the same result using Lenny’s, Liam’s, and Sile’s numbers. Hopefully, the coast guard would respond to Paddy’s call, and they’d come to the rescue.

  I sagged against the wheel and caught my breath. With the adrenaline rush of my departure from Smuggler’s Cove, I’d forgotten to don a life jacket. The two Lenny and I had worn during our escape from Dolphin Island still lay on the boat’s deck. I bent to pick one up and froze in place. A moaning sound emanated from one of the side benches. Suddenly, the lid rose, and I came face to face with an injured man.

  I screamed, he roared, and Quibbles yowled.

  “Noel,” I exclaimed when I got my breath back. “You’re alive?”

  “I should hope so.” The caretaker climbed out of the storage unit, clutching his head. In addition to the dried blood on Noel’s face, he sported an open wound on the side of his head. “That Windy girl attacked me.”

  “Do you mean Storm?” I asked. “But she’s tiny. How did she drag you from your cottage to the boat?”

  He stared at me in confusion. “That woman hit me here in the boat, not in my cottage. What made you think she’d attacked me there?”

  I thought of the blood all over Noel’s kitchen floor and shivered. Whose blood was that? I decided not to mention it just now. “What happened?”

  “You’re sending us west,” Noel muttered. “Are you heading for Iceland?”

  Sure enough, the speedboat had veered away from Dolphin Island and was heading out into the Atlantic. “My navigation skills leave something to be desired,” I admitted. “Can you help me get back to Dolphin Island? It’s an emergency. I think Storm kidnapped my sister.”

  “Get out of my way and let me take over at the wheel. And why is a cat on my boat?” The man peered at Quibbles. “That is a cat, right?”

  “He’s a Maine Coon,” I said. “As for why he’s here, it’s a long story. Why don’t you tell me what happened with Storm?”

  Noel grunted. “I was about to take my boat out for a spin when the Wind girl—or Storm, or whatever she’s called—approached me. She said she was meeting friends to go for a walk. Seeing her reminded me that she’d been in the Poison Garden yesterday when I was there fixing the lock to the gate. Con had complained it was rusty, see. He wanted it fixed before they filmed a scene in the garden on Sunday.”

  My heart rate soared. “Was Storm near the hemlock?”

  “I didn’t see her near any particular plant. While I was working on fixing the lock, she came over and chatted with me for a bit.”

  “Did she go into the garden, or just hang by the entrance?” I demanded, feeling faint.

  “I only saw her at the entrance, but I had to go back to my golf cart at one point to get more tools. I was in the middle of fixing the lock, and I had no way of locking up while I was gone.”

  I sucked in a breath. “So, Storm could have snuck into the garden while you were gone?”

  “Exactly. When the girl showed up at the jetty today, I remembered the incident. Knowing you and Sergeant Reynolds were looking into Theresa’s death, I asked Storm if she’d seen anyone in the garden yesterday, especially anyone near the hemlock. The next thing I knew, she’d grabbed one of my tools off the deck of the boat and hit me over the head.”

  All the clues were slotting into place, forming a clear pattern. “Storm stole a chunk of hemlock while you were gone, and she was afraid you’d seen her. That’s why she attacked you and left you for dead.”

  Noel rubbed his head. “Lucky for me, I have a hard head. What’s the story with Storm and your sister?”

  I gave him a brief summary of my suspicions and the phone call with Beth.

  The caretaker’s jaw descended. “The girl’s lost her mind.”

  “Pretty much. I just wish she hadn’t lost it over my sister.”

  At this juncture, Quibbles began to yowl.

  “Well, would you look at that.” Noel pointed out at the water. “The dolphins have come out to play.”

  I regarded the two leaping dolphins vaulting through the water with a jaundiced eye. “Unless those two come armed with semi-automatics, they can press pause on their display until I return under calmer circumstances.”

  The speedboat made a strange, chugging sound. Noel frowned, checked the dashboard, then nodded. “As I suspected. We’re almost out of fuel. I’d never intended to take her out to Whisper Island today, never mind sail there and back.”

  My heart thumped against my ribs. We were still a good quarter-mile away from the island. I was a decent swimmer, but not with a busted arm. “Can we make it?”

  “If I dock at the pier, yes,” Noel replied. “I don’t think we have enough fuel to make it back to the jetty near my place.”

  I wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Storm and my sister were near the jetty, but the area by the bird sanctuary was my best guess. That was where Lenny had been due to meet the others for a walk. And there was a small patch of woodland nearby that would fit with my sister’s description of her whereabouts during our phone call.

  I straightened my back. “I’ll make it work. I’ll grab a golf cart and get across the island. Maybe I’ll run into Sile, and she’ll help.”

  If, of course, I could persuade Sile that I wasn’t the person she needed to arrest…

  33

  A couple of minutes later, we rocked up to the pier. I jumped out of the boat, leaving Noel to moor it. With a leap worthy of a panther, Quibbles followed and bounded after me. The cat had been quiet for the latter part of our journey, lulling me into a false sense of security. “Why couldn’t you stay with Noel?” I grumbled, al
ready running.

  The cat followed, matching my pace.

  I paused at the end of the pier, gasping for breath, and surveyed my surroundings. And my gaze settled on my personal savior. The Magnum Mobile.

  The car was parked next to the dock at a jaunty angle, while its owner chatted with the ferry captain.

  Ignoring Quibbles’ hissing protests, I ran to the car and leaped into the driver’s seat. “The key!” I screamed at Magnum, who stared at me, goggle-eyed. “It’s an emergency. Literally life or death.”

  To his credit, the man tossed me the key without further interrogation.

  “Find Garda Conlan and tell her Storm MacKenzie is the killer, and she has my sister.” I gunned the engine. “And look after the cat.”

  Magnum glanced down at the cat and recoiled. Quibbles arched his back and hissed.

  Ignoring both of them, I shifted gears. The wheels spun with ferocious force, and the Magnum Mobile catapulted into motion. At that moment, a streak of orange sailed over the open-topped windshield and landed on the passenger seat. “Quibbles? Seriously?”

  The cat turned his back on me, raised his tail, and farted.

  This cat was killing me. I should charge Trudy Nelson danger money.

  As the Magnum Mobile was a stick-shift, left-hand drive, I had to steer with my uninjured left hand and shift gears with my busted right one. The pain was excruciating. I sucked air through my teeth and pressed the gas. Surely childbirth couldn’t be worse than this? I’d ask Beth in a few months. Assuming I got to her in time…

  Spitting gravel, the car left the lone path that circled the island and hit the grass. We started to climb, me crunching gears and screaming through the pain. I howled, Quibbles yowled, and we motored up the hill, higher and higher.

  I had to keep going. This was the fastest route to reach the bird sanctuary. Between the noise, the pain, and the fear, the minutes blurred. We rocketed over green grass and down a rocky track to the woods. I veered off the path and down another hill to get to the cottage faster. I can’t say how long it took me to screech to a halt in front of Noel’s place, nor why my gut told me to drive there and not go all the way to the bird sanctuary, or stop at the woodland next to it. Theresa’s bag had been in Noel’s cottage. Was that a coincidence? I didn’t think so.

  I vaulted out of the car and sprinted to the cottage door. This time, it was locked. “Beth?” I ran to the nearest window and peered through the glass. My breath caught in my throat. My sister sat on the cottage floor in the middle of a pool of blood, bound but not gagged. Storm stood over her, crying and clutching a kitchen knife.

  My heart lurched. Had she hurt Beth? Had my sister lost the baby? I had to get inside. I took a deep breath and scanned the garden. Sure enough, the shovel I’d seen Noel use this morning leaned against the wall. I grabbed it, angled it to my satisfaction, and hurled it at the window.

  At the sound of shattering glass, Storm whirled to face the window. I flipped her the bird, and, ignoring the further damage to my battered person, I kicked my way through the broken glass and into the cottage.

  Once I stood before my nemesis, my police training kicked in. My first move was not to disarm my would-be assailant. Had she held a gun, my reaction would have been different, but a knife bought me some time. Ignoring my sister’s sobs, I angled myself toward the front door and released the latch. An easier exit route than the broken window could prove useful.

  “Drop the knife, Storm.” I barely recognized my voice. It was eerily calm and devoid of emotion. “There’s still time to put this right.”

  The woman’s features twisted into a vicious snarl that reminded me of Quibbles in pre-attack mode. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, it’s too late. That woman died.”

  “But you didn’t mean to kill her,” I said softly. “Did you?”

  A sob caught in her throat, and I smelled her desperation. “Not her. Not the caretaker. Not anyone.”

  “Noel’s okay, Storm. You didn’t kill him.”

  “He is?” Her shoulders sagged in visceral relief. “I’m glad. That Theresa woman was a pain, but I liked Noel.”

  Ever so slowly, I inched closer to her, careful to keep a straight line between me and the door. “What happened in the kitchen? Why is there so much blood? It doesn’t look like Beth’s bleeding.” I’d clocked that fact the instant I’d seen my sister up close.

  “This isn’t blood,” my sister said, finding her voice for the first time since I’d kick-boxed my way into the cottage. “It’s the fake blood we use for special effects. It has a distinctive scent.”

  My racing heart calmed a little. Storm must have spilled fake blood in Noel’s kitchen to confuse anyone who came looking for him. But why? I focused on Theresa’s killer. “Why don’t you drop the knife and tell me what happened?”

  Storm’s grip around the knife’s handle tightened. “Do you think I’m that stupid? You’re a cop. You’d have that knife at my throat before I had time to breathe.”

  “I’m an ex-cop,” I corrected, “and I don’t want a knife at anyone’s throat. Drop the weapon, and let’s talk.”

  “It’s too late to talk,” she mumbled. “It’s too late for everything.”

  “It’s not too late, Storm. Okay, keep the knife—” I shot my sister a warning look when she opened her mouth to protest, “—but talk to me. Why did you spill fake blood all over the cottage floor?”

  “It wasn’t planned.” Sweat beaded on her upper lip, and the fingers around the knife handle were bleached white from the pressure. “I panicked. I met Noel down by the jetty. He was getting ready to go out fishing. He started asking me questions about yesterday when I met him near the entrance to the Poison Garden. I wasn’t sure if he suspected I’d stolen the hemlock, or if he was just checking if I’d seen anyone else in the garden. I guess I panicked. Next thing I knew, I’d picked up one of his tools and hit him over the head.”

  She ended on a sob. I gave her a moment to calm down. “Okay. You hit Noel and knocked him out. What happened next?”

  Storm wiped her sleeve across her eyes, leaving mascara on the tops of her cheeks. “I thought he was dead. I hauled him into the open storage unit, threw in the tool I’d hit him with, and closed the lid. There wasn’t much blood on the deck, so I washed that up and got out of the boat.”

  “Why didn’t you steal the boat and leave Dolphin Island?” Beth demanded, straining her ropes.

  My sister’s voice provoked an immediate change in Storm’s mood. She whirled around, slashing the air with her knife. “You. Shut. Up.”

  “Focus on me, Storm.” I kept my voice calm even though I was shaking inside. “My sister isn’t going to say another word. Right, Beth?” My sister glared at me, but I ignored her. “Eyes on me, Storm. Why didn’t you take the boat?

  “I can’t swim. I’m terrified of boats. I thought I was going to die on the ferry over to the island.” The young woman was breathing heavily, and her eyes were desperate. “I planned to leave on the ferry this evening with everyone else and act totally normal. I had no idea Noel was still alive, or that you’d find him. After I left his boat, I ran straight to his cottage to get the bag.”

  “Theresa’s bag,” I filled in. “The one filled with valuable crystals.”

  “You know about that?” Storm ran a shaky hand through her hair. “I saw her hiding that bag in among the costumes. I’d seen her carrying it when she arrived off the ferry, and I wondered why she wanted to put her own bag in with props. When I looked inside the bag and found the crystals, I didn’t know what to think. I just tossed it back under the pile of bags where she’d hidden it.”

  “After she collapsed, you decided to go back and look for it?” I prompted.

  She nodded. “I realized the wrong person had gotten sick, and I figured the crystals might be worth something if I needed a quick getaway. I’d seen a pile of old grass at the back of Noel’s garden when I walked by on a tour of the island. I figured if anyone was looking for Theresa�
��s bag, his garden wouldn’t be top of their list of places to search.”

  “Where did the fake blood come into the picture?”

  “I was supposed to meet Lenny and a few others to go for a walk. I promised to show him the fake blood the pros use, so I had a vial in my pocket. He’d only practiced with raspberry sauce, and he was curious.”

  “I’ve experienced Lenny’s fake crime scenes with raspberry sauce,” I said dryly. “Why did you feel the need to spill the fake blood in here?”

  “That police officer showed up, right when I was trying to leave Noel’s garden with the bag. I couldn’t risk being found with the dead woman’s bag, and I had nowhere to hide. I picked the lock on his front door and ran inside.” At my look of surprise, Storm added, “My dad’s an ex-con. I acquired the fine art of lock picking before I learned my way around a makeup kit.”

  I’d need to look up Storm’s family history later—assuming we got out of here alive. Okay, Maggie. Stay calm. You’ve got this. “You got inside the cottage. Then what happened?”

  “I was afraid the cop had found Noel’s body. I needed a new getaway plan. First, I needed to create a distraction. I emptied the vial of fake blood on the kitchen floor, stuffed as many crystals into my pockets as I could fit, and dumped the bag in the middle of the mess. I hoped the cop wouldn’t immediately realize the blood was fake, and she’d be distracted. Then I climbed out of the back window and ran.”

  I darted a glance at my sister, silently communicating to her to stay quiet. “Let’s go back to last night, Storm. You said the wrong person got sick. You wanted to make someone ill, but you didn’t want anyone to die, right?”

  “Right.” Storm’s tears flowed freely down her face. “I wanted Eliza to suffer. That’s all. I just wanted to teach her a lesson.”

  “By giving me hemlock?” my sister screeched, ignoring my admonition to stay silent. “Are you insane?”

  “You weren’t supposed to die.” Storm’s voice rose to a panicked squeak. “I heard what Harper did to you and Judd in Belfast, and it gave me the idea.”