by Emma Belmont
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” the sheriff said. “Either way, two murders on one yacht is not a coincidence. Let’s start our search.”
15
As Maris and Mac joined the crew and guests on the deck, there was a grim, stunned silence. But to no one’s surprise, Lloyd stepped forward.
“Sheriff, Maris,” he said. “Some of the crew and staff need to get back to their duties. Would that be all right?”
“Honestly,” Mac said. “No. If you’ll give me and the forensics team a couple of hours for a search, I’d rather you all wait here.”
The guests and crew looked at one another, but no one objected. Nadia gave Maris a questioning look, but Maris could only raise her hands and shrug.
“We run the risk of losing evidence,” Mac said.
Lloyd surveyed the crew and guests and said, “I think we can do that.”
“Thanks,” Mac said, “I appreciate it.”
Although the sheriff had turned away, Lloyd hurried forward, and lowered his voice. “I performed an inventory of our emergency gear,” he said. “We have a dry storage box on the skiff, and…it was missing its flare gun and a cartridge.”
Mac regarded him. “I take it no one has used it of late, in an emergency?”
The first mate frowned and shook his head. “Not since I’ve been aboard.”
“All right,” Mac said, “thank you.” Silently, he led the way back to the stairs, and then glanced over his shoulder. “No surprise there,” he said. “But I’m glad he came forward with the information.”
“Me too,” Maris said with some relief. Though she’d always known that Slick could not be involved, it was good to have evidence on his side too.
As they made their way to Fritz’s room, Maris couldn’t help but be struck again by a sense of déjà vu. The door was still ajar, though the clothes seemed to have been moved. Mac paused at the threshold, dug in his pants pocket, and offered a pair of blue latex gloves to Maris.
“They haven’t dusted for fingerprints yet,” he said, and then he put on his pair.
“Thanks,” Maris said, and put on hers.
Mac went directly to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet, so Maris headed to the desk. On it she found Fritz’s tablet. She pressed the home button, and the screen blazed to life. Apparently the director didn’t believe in password protection. She swiped past dozens of applications, until she’d gone through several screens, and then went back to the home page. The voice memo app caught her attention. They’d seen him use it only yesterday.
Mac brought an armload of pill bottles from the bathroom and put them on the wet bar, with the ample supply of liquor.
Maris touched the voice memo icon and it started up. At the top of a list of time-stamped recordings, were two from yesterday. Recognizing the time when they’d interviewed him, she touched that link first.
In an eerie moment that made Mac look up from his search of the nightstands, Fritz’s voice came from the machine. Maris turned up the volume. They heard him opine on what it was like being a suspect in a murder case.
“How ironic,” Maris said, when it finished. She touched the next link.
In this brief recording, he sketched out some ideas for characters in his noir movie. “The cop has to be plodding, not exactly the village idiot, but close. He’s accompanied by a nosy local hotel owner who likes to pry into everyone’s business, so of course, she’s not well liked.”
Maris raised an eyebrow as the recording finished. “Nosy,” she muttered.
“Better than ‘village idiot’,” Mac said, smirking.
He scooped out some blister packs of pills from the nightstand drawers and put them with the others. “There’s enough here for a pharmacy,” he said, surveying it all. “Amphetamines, sedatives, a psychedelic or two, even some pot.”
But Maris didn’t look up at the assembled drugs, she’d found a folder labeled “Fully Loaded”.
“Wasn’t ‘Fully Loaded’ the name of his last movie?” Maris asked. “The one that Kaitlyn told us about?”
Mac had gone over to the closets. “Yes,” he said. “That was it. For a moment, I didn’t realize it was a movie.”
Maris clicked on that folder and it opened up to reveal several documents. She clicked on “Fully Loaded Final 2”.
Though Maris had never read a script before, that was clearly what she was seeing: character names for each bit of dialogue, sparse instructions for the camera, and brief descriptions of the settings. But as she scrolled down, the text began to change color. In the beginning, it had all been black, and in a font that looked like an old typewriter had created it.
But now it was a mix of black text and blue text, though Maris couldn’t see any pattern to it. About midway through the document, the text was a mishmash of black, blue, and now red colors. Finally, it became entirely red. As Maris scrolled up and down, she recalled Kaitlyn’s explanation of giving notes. Is that what she was seeing? Whoever had been writing with the red text had done the lion’s share of the work, but the document looked like an unmitigated mess. How anyone could have made a movie from it was beyond her.
Raised voices came from down the hallway, causing Maris and Mac to both stop their searches.
Maris set the tablet down and followed Mac outside to find the narrow hallway jammed. Nadia and Kaitlyn were both pulling suitcases behind them, while Lloyd appeared to be trying to clear a way for them.
“What’s going on here?” Mac said loudly over the cacophony of voices. When no one heard him, he put his fingers to his lips and gave a short loud whistle. Everyone stopped and turned to him. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m not staying one more minute on this ship,” Kaitlyn declared. “I’ve had it.”
There was grumbling from the crew who’d gathered on the stairs, and Maris couldn’t tell if they were leaving as well, or angry that the others were fleeing.
“Pipe down,” Lloyd ordered, silencing the men. He turned to Mac. “Sheriff, this was my idea, and I accept full responsibility.”
“All right, Lloyd,” Mac said, sounding the voice of reason. “Why don’t you tell me what this is about?”
“We’ve had two murders in as many days,” the first mate said. “I was talking to Kaitlyn, upside where we were waiting–”
“And I decided I don’t want to be murdered,” she finished for him.
Mac made a motion for her to slow down. “I’m not going to force you to stay,” he said, reassuringly. “No one has to stay on this ship.” The assembled group all looked at one another, and the tension dropped about three notches.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Lloyd said. “I’ll be staying aboard, but I’m insisting that Kaitlyn and Ms. Malakin leave.”
“If the crew is staying,” Nadia interjected. “Then I’m staying.”
Another round of interchanges took place. “Nadia, please,” Lloyd said.
“Do what you want,” Kaitlyn said.
“Just set sail,” said someone from the stairs.
Mac whistled, bringing silence again. Not for the first time, Maris wished she knew how to do that.
“If you leave the vessel,” Mac said, “then I must ask you to stay close by.” He looked at Lloyd. “Nor can the ship leave port. It’s a crime scene. But I am not forcing anyone to stay on board. That’s up to you.”
“Ms. Malakin and Kaitlyn are leaving,” Lloyd said. “I’m staying with the ship.” He glanced behind him to where the other crew members had gathered, all of them men. “Anyone else?” For a few awkward moments there was only the shuffling of feet and downward glances. “Well?” the first mate asked. He waited for a few seconds. “Then let’s get back on deck and wait as we were instructed.” He picked up both Kaitlyn and Nadia’s suitcases and started up the stairs.
“Maybe you should arrest us,” Kaitlyn said glumly. “Then at least we’d have a place to stay.”
Maris held up her hand, looking pointedly at Kaitlyn and then at Nadia. “I have the perfect
place,” she said.
16
As Maris turned down the bed, Kaitlyn set her suitcase on the wood and embroidered linen luggage rack.
“What a lovely room,” the young actress said, turning around to take it in. “The yacht is nice, but I forgot how small the rooms are.” She went to the rose-colored, sheer, lace curtains at the window and held them aside. “Wow,” she whispered. “Look at that.”
Maris smiled to herself as she turned on the oil radiator. That particular window looked up the coast, to the north and the pier. The setting sun had begun to bathe the bay in rich amber tones, turning the water into a mirror made of hammered and polished copper.
Once the heater had started to warm, Maris opened the armoire next to the full length dressing mirror. A soft, white terrycloth robe hung on one of the many padded satin hangers, and new slippers lay in the bottom. Everything was ready.
“Please do take your time settling in,” Maris said, turning to her. “The bathroom is just outside to your left and you’ll be sharing with Nadia. We’ll have wine and cheese in the dining room shortly. If there’s anything else you need, please just let me know.”
Kaitlyn turned from the window, her eyes a bit misty. “Thank you, Maris. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this.”
Maris inclined her head as she closed the door. “It’s entirely my pleasure.”
As she crossed the short hallway, she peeked in the bathroom, even though she’d already seen that it was stocked with clean towels and toiletries. The door to Nadia’s room was open. Maris knocked lightly at the threshold.
Nadia’s suitcase was already open but she was sitting on the taupe settee. Her back was to the south facing window, with its view of the setting sun through the open shutters. Her shoulders hunched and there were dark circles under her eyes. It was a look that Maris knew well.
“May I turn down the bed?” Maris asked.
Nadia smiled weakly. “The last thing I want to do is create more work for you.”
Maris smiled and took that as an invitation to enter. “You’re doing nothing of the sort,” she said, turning down the linen sheets and comforter, and arranging the pillows. “We’re not even close to being at full capacity.”
Nadia glanced around at the Victorian furnishings, the Tiffany lamps, and the dusty blue of the ceiling and its decorative medallions. “I don’t know how you can’t be overbooked,” she said. “Your B&B is absolutely stunning.”
Maris turned on the oil radiator, and opened the armoire. “High praise indeed,” she said, grinning at her former colleague. “But we don’t overbook. If there’s a cancellation, then there’s a cancellation.” She took a pair of uniform pants from the suitcase and hung them, then the accompanying shirt.
“You don’t need to do that,” Nadia said, but seemed rooted to the settee.
“I know,” Maris said simply, hanging up another blouse. “It just gives me a minute to tell you that the bathroom is just outside to the right, and you’ll be sharing it with Kaitlyn.”
Nadia finally turned to look at the view south. The rocky coastline undulated into the distance, and the sun had begun its final, fiery dip to the horizon. Maris heard her sigh.
“Take your time settling in,” Maris said quietly, “and please let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable. The Wine Down starts in just a bit.”
Nadia turned back to her. “A Wine Down?” It was the affectionate term that those in the industry used for the evening wine and cheese. “Oh that sounds wonderful.” Maris smiled back at her and began to close the door. “Maris?” Nadia said, stopping her. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
“You know I’m speaking the truth,” Maris told her, “when I say it’s absolutely my pleasure.” With that, she left Nadia in her room.
Downstairs, Maris went straight to the Muenster in the fridge, doubly glad now that she’d stocked up in Cheeseman Village. She’d already decided it would go beautifully with the local Chenin Blanc. But for the rest of the artisanal cheeses and their pairings, she gently tapped her temple to bring up an image of the wine cabinet in the dining room and the refrigerator in the pantry. Never one to slavishly follow wine and cheese pairing dogma, she liked to let her imagination run. Slowly she made her decisions. The semi-soft provolone would pair nicely with a light California Chianti, while the sharp, aged cheddar would stand up well to the Argentinian Malbec.
With that settled, she also piled the savory crackers, some fresh figs, and nuts on the board and took it to the dining room. It was a reception technique that she’d stumbled on years ago. Rather than prepare everything in the kitchen, she found that guests liked to watch her assemble the board. It encouraged a bit of nibbling as well as conversation.
She brought in the chilled Chenin Blanc and opened it but when she reached into the bottom storage of the wine cabinet, she touched something furry that squeaked.
With a bit of a squeak herself, she jumped backward. But when she peered inside, she saw a cat toy.
“Mojo,” she muttered, bringing it out. It was a furry gray mouse—another of his toys that she had yet to see. Where he kept his stash, she didn’t know. But for the time being, she put the mouse back.
After bringing out the Chianti and Malbec, she opened them all and set them next to the ready glasses. The cheeses were sliced and arranged by the time Nadia and Kaitlyn arrived. Maris turned to smile at them. Both had changed and were looking decidedly more relaxed.
“I was just telling Kaitlyn,” Nadia said, “how impressive your establishment here is. Truly, I am in awe of the attention to detail and the real comfort that you offer.”
“Ditto,” Kaitlyn said, smiling. She went to the wines and turned them to read the labels. “Help yourself?” she asked, over her shoulder.
“Please do,” Maris said, then turned to Nadia. “And thank you.”
They poured themselves some wine and admired the sunset out the bay window. “What a locale,” Nadia said, with something like awe in her voice.
“And an old lighthouse,” Kaitlyn said, looking up at the circling beam.
“They go hand in hand,” Maris said, as she finished the lavish and large cheeseboard. “The lighthouse needs to be seen throughout the bay, so we’re out here on this rocky promontory.”
“Ah,” Nadia said, turning back to her. “That in turn gives the B&B its amazing views.” Then she saw the cheeseboard. “What have we here?”
The two younger women took plates and helped themselves as Maris poured herself a glass of the Chianti.
“I love pistachios,” Kaitlyn crowed. “But I’d never have thought to have them with white wine.”
“Is that chutney?” Nadia said, picking up the serving spoon. “Oh goodness, that is brilliant.” She heaped some on her plate with the two types of savory crackers, and a couple slices of fig. “I’m going to have to steal these ideas, you know.” She gave Maris a wink.
Maris lifted her glass to them. “To the Wine Down.”
“To the Wine Down,” they echoed, clinking glasses.
“Looks like the party started without us,” Mark Magnuson said, as he and his wife came to the dining room entrance.
Maris laughed as she turned to them. “It’s not a party without the Magnusons,” she said.
She made the introductions all around, and the Magnusons obviously recognized Kaitlyn.
“We loved Fully Loaded!” Gayle said, shaking her hand. “You were wonderful.”
“Thank you,” Kaitlyn said, her smile adorable.
Mark and Gayle served themselves and asked a million questions about Hollywood and the yacht, that Kaitlyn and Nadia were happy to answer. No, it never got old being recognized. Yes, it was wonderful sailing around the globe. No, it wasn’t always easy remembering lines. Yes, the crew on a boat was a family.
For their part, the Magnusons heartily recommended the redwood hikes and had also spent the day using the B&B’s kayaks. Though they’d never done an
y kayaking before, they’d found them easy to use. They’d even managed to spot otters in the bay.
“Look at that sunset,” Mark said. The sky had become a vivid violet, and only the tip of the sun’s orb showed.
Gayle took his arm. “Shall we go outside?” She glanced at Kaitlyn and Nadia. “All of us?”
Maris was following the amiable group to the back porch door when a tiny, tinny harmonica-like meow drew her attention to the floor. Mojo stood in the hallway, his big orange eyes watching her. But when she beckoned to him, he only meowed again, and trotted into the parlor.
“Hmm,” Maris said. She knew better than to question his summons.
17
Glass of Chianti in hand, Maris followed her pudgy, little black cat into the parlor. She watched as he lightly jumped to the top of the back of the embroidered chair, and then to the bookshelf. He went directly to the box of tarot cards and began to paw it, batting it this way and that. But rather than see him knock them to the floor—where they’d likely scatter for her to pick up—she snatched the box just as it was tipping from the shelf.
Mojo mewed plaintively.
“Don’t worry,” she said, and set down her wine. “You’ll have your chance.”
She sat down on the Persian rug, removed the cards and explanation booklet from the box, and then looked up at him. “Well, come on. This was your idea.”
With a couple of little leaps, he was on the floor in front of her. He cocked his head in fascination as she shuffled the deck.
“We’ll do a three card spread,” she told him. “You pick them.”
With a sweeping motion of her hand, she fanned out the cards face down on the rug between them. He meowed again, then stepped across the cards to her lap, and nestled down. But as he’d crossed them, Maris took note of the three that he touched. She picked up the first one.
“Card one is the past,” she told him, flipped it over and set it down. “Ooh, The Tower.”
