by Rachel Woods
“Tom was being an insensitive asshole,” cried Kelsea, her face damp with tears. “He accused Derek of killing Besi!”
Groaning, Leo stared at Derek, who looked more like a raving maniac than a grieving groom as he stood in a fighting stance, fists raised, cursing and daring Tom to hit him.
Scrambling to his feet, Tom lurched toward the table, grabbed a fork, and turned to Derek.
“Oh, God, Tom, put that fork down!” Melanie yelled.
Brandishing the fork at Derek, Tom said, “Get back! Stay away from me, or I’ll—”
Derek lunged at Tom, wrenching the fork from him and wrestling him to the floor. “You sonofabitch! How dare you say I killed Besi! How fucking dare you! I’ll kill you!”
“Get off me!” Tom screamed, struggling to get away from Derek, who used his forearm to pin Tom to the floor. “You crazy murdering bastard!”
With a primal growl, Derek raised his free arm and stabbed the fork into Tom’s cheek.
Kelsea’s piercing scream was no match for Tom’s wounded howl.
“Zeke! Jacob! A little help, please,” requested Leo as he rushed toward Derek and Tom.
With Zeke’s help, Leo managed to grab Derek and pull him away from Tom.
“Let me go!” Derek yelled, trying to yank free. “That asshole is not going to get away with what he said about me! Let me go!”
Jacob and Kelsea tended to Tom who held his cheek and whimpered, “He stabbed me! Crazy sonofabitch! He actually stabbed me!”
“You’re lucky I didn’t stab you in the heart!” said Derek as Leo, with Zeke’s help, hustled him to the table and forced him to sit in one of the chairs.
“I’m lucky you didn’t shoot me in the head!” countered Tom, rising to his feet, stumbling as he accepted a napkin from Kelsea to hold against his bloody face. “Like you did to Besi!”
Cursing, Derek jumped up, but Leo grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back into the chair. “Sit down and don’t move! And, Tom, shut the hell up!”
“Derek killed her!” said Tom, glaring at Leo. “He didn’t love her! He only wanted her money!”
“What in God’s name is going on in here!”
Leo froze and saw that everyone else did, as well, as his father’s commanding baritone boomed through the air. Even Derek lost some of his steam and slouched in his chair.
“Leonard,” said his father, glaring at him. “What is the meaning of all this?”
Leaving Derek’s side, Leo walked to his father. A feeling of déjà vu washed over him. Burt’s stern gaze and the rebuke in his tone reminded Leo of all the times he’d gotten in trouble over something Derek had gotten him involved in.
“Tom and Derek got into it,” said Leo, voice lowered. “But, it’s going to be fine.”
“Got into it how?” asked Burt, motioning for Leo to join him in the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears.
“Tom said something about Derek having to do something with Besi’s murder,” said Leo. “And then Derek took a swing at him.”
“Tom is holding a bloody napkin against his face,” said Burt, his gaze shifting from Leo to the scene in the dining room. “Derek seems to have done more than just take a swing at him.”
Though it pained him to say it, Leo blurted out, “Derek stabbed Tom with a fork.”
Burt exhaled and looked toward the ceiling. Focusing his gaze on Leo again, he said, “I’ll handle this.”
Relieved, Leo stepped aside, allowing his father to enter the dining room.
“Derek. Tom.” Burt barked their names. “Both of you come with me. Now.”
Looking like recalcitrant schoolboys sent to the headmaster’s office, Derek and Tom left the dining room. Shoulders slumped and eyes averted, they gave each other a wide berth as they followed Burt.
Moments later, their faces somber and stunned, Melanie, Kelsea, Jacob, and Zeke said nothing as they drifted out of the dining room.
Sighing, Leo turned to Vivian, who walked toward him.
“Why would Tom accuse Derek of killing Besi?” asked Vivian. “You don’t think it’s true, do you?”
“No, babe, of course, it’s not true,” Leo said, deciding to ignore the sly sense of unease snaking through him.
15
“Guess what I get to do?” Leo strode into the breakfast nook, a large octagonal space off the kitchen, and sat in one of the twelve chairs positioned around the table.
“What?” Vivian glanced up from her iPad, where she’d been watching coverage of the Besi Beaumont murder on CNN, and muted the video.
“Bail Derek out of jail,” Leo said, shaking his head as he reached for a muffin from the small buffet of breakfast offers on a large platter in the middle of the table. “Some fun, eh?”
“I can’t believe Tom pressed charges,” said Vivian, reaching for the coffee pot to pour Leo a cup of coffee.
“I can’t believe anything that’s happened,” said Leo, sitting back in the chair. “I grew up with these people, and now I’m starting to wonder if I ever knew them at all.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,“ said Vivian, grabbing his hand. “I know how hard this is for you. I know what it’s like to think you know someone and then realize that they were keeping secrets from you.”
Leo’s sympathetic smile lifted her spirits.
“I know you understand what I’m going through,” said Leo. “Because of what you went through with Amal.”
Sadness for the loss of her best friend welled within Vivian, but she willed herself not to cry.
“Amal was living a life that you knew nothing about,” said Leo. “And that life got her killed. So, I can’t help but wonder if Besi was keeping some secret that led to her death.”
“It’s not the secret that kills you,” said Vivian. “It’s that you know the secret.”
“And if someone thinks you might tell the secret,” said Leo, “they might kill you to stop that from happening.”
“Let’s not speculate until we have more information,” said Vivian. “And speaking of that, I’m going down to the beach to see if Detective François will tell me how the investigation is going.”
“Good luck with that,” said Leo as he stood, and then kissed the top of her head.
“Good luck with Derek,” said Vivian.
After Leo left to bail Derek out of jail, Vivian went back to their guest room to shower and change. An hour later, she left the mansion and headed down the path, taking the wooden-and-stone paver steps that winded down through the lush, dense jungle of flora and fauna to the boardwalk. Traversing the weathered planks, she hesitated as she approached the steps that led to the soft, pink sand.
Shuddering, Vivian stared at the beach, dotted with palm trees.
Two days ago, Besi Beaumont had walked down the aisle to marry a man she may, or may not, have loved, and instead had ended up with a bullet in the back of her head.
Vivian glanced toward the section of the beach where the ceremony had taken place.
The task force, a half-dozen members of the St. Killian police department, led by Detective Baxter François, walked among the wedding wreckage, stepping over broken bamboo chairs, the legs and backs snapped in half, and trampled flowers. Vivian thought it looked like the aftermath of a tropical storm. She understood that because the area was a crime scene, nothing could be moved, or cleaned up, so the scene wouldn’t be disturbed. The police had to make sure that evidence was preserved so it could be collected and analyzed.
As balmy sea breeze blew across her face, Vivian stared at the pergola where Besi had lost her life.
Since the tragic events, she’d been trying to recreate the horrific scene in her mind, to determine if she may have seen something, anything, some clue or piece of evidence she could give to the police to help them find the person who’d shot Besi, but she hadn’t been focused on the bride when the shooting had happened.
She’d been wrapped up in her own selfish thoughts about being ravished by Leo. Why hadn’t she been paying atte
ntion to Besi? If she had, then maybe she would have seen …
Pushing the disturbing thoughts from her mind, Vivian walked over to Detective François, who was staring at his cell phone.
“Saw you on CNN this morning,” said Vivian, forcing lightness into her tone, trying to combat the darkness threatening to overwhelm her spirit.
“Hope they got my good side.”
Vivian laughed. The detective didn’t have a bad side, but she didn’t need to tell him that.
“Surprised you weren’t there,” he said. “Haven’t seen much about the story in the Palmchat Gazette.”
“You can blame the owner of the paper for that,” said Vivian, lifting her braids and placing them over her right shoulder. “Derek is Burt’s godson. He’s family. Burt wants him protected, as much as possible.”
“Yeah, we noticed the extra security,” Baxter remarked.
“Burt hired them to keep the reporters and camera crews off his property,” Vivian explained.
“We saw them camped out down at the far end of the beach,” said Baxter. “But, I don’t mind. The press just gets in the way, and we’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do to find whoever killed Ms. Beaumont.”
“How’s the investigation going?” asked Vivian, trying not to dwell on the fact that Besi had died before she had the chance to be declared Mrs. Hennessy.
“Not as well as I wish it were,” remarked the detective. “Not as good as it will be when we find the killer.”
“You got any leads?”
“None that I want reported in the Palmchat Gazette,” said Detective François.
“I guess you’re going to tell me the same thing you told CNN, huh?” asked Vivian, tilting her head. “Let’s see if I remember the statement you gave at the press conference. The murder weapon was most likely a high-powered assault rifle. The police plan to view all the camera surveillance and are reaching out to the wedding guests for any cell phone video. At this time, there are no suspects, but you are following up on several promising leads.”
“That’s about all I have to say,” said the detective, smiling at her.
“Well, if there is something you want to tell me that you didn’t tell CNN, feel free,” said Vivian. “Leo’s dad doesn’t want us to cover the story, out of respect for Derek’s tragic loss.”
The detective stared at her. “So, if I tell you something, I won’t have to worry about reading it online?”
Shaking her head, Vivian said, “Not this time.”
“Well, in that case,” said the detective. “We believe we know exactly where, in the trees, the shooter was hiding when Ms. Beaumont was fired upon and killed. Several strands of dark brown hair were caught on some of the tree branches.”
“Male or female hair?” asked Vivian.
“Still waiting on forensics to let me know,” said François.
“And when forensics lets you know, will you let me know?” asked Vivian, though she suspected she knew what his answer would be.
“How about I let you know this,” said the detective. “Also found in the trees was a piece of fabric.”
“What kind of fabric?” Vivian asked, glancing over her shoulder toward the tree line of sea grape trees that bordered the lush vegetation clustered on the storied slope rising toward Burt’s massive mansion on the bluff above the sea.
“Peach-colored silk,” said Detective François. “Looked like it had been ripped from a pretty fancy dress.”
“Peach-colored?” asked Vivian. “Like the bridesmaid’s dresses we wore?”
“That’s right, you were in the wedding,” said the detective, giving her his sexy smile. “I saw you on one of the videos. You looked nice.”
Ignoring the detective’s compliment, she said, “Do you think the fabric came from a bridesmaid dress?”
“From the video I’ve seen of the ceremony, it certainly appears as though the piece of fabric we found in the trees might be the same type of fabric that those bridesmaids dresses were made from. We’ll need forensics to examine the dresses. One of the deputies will be contacting you and the two other bridesmaids to get the dresses. First thing we need to do is determine if the fabric we found matches the fabric from the bridesmaid dresses. Again, from the video I saw, seemed like a lot of the guests were wearing peach.”
“Besi wanted the wedding guests to wear colors of the sunset,” said Vivian.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to rule the bridesmaids out as suspects,” said Baxter.
“How are you so sure?” asked Vivian.
“Doesn’t make sense that one of the bridesmaids fired a shot from thirty, maybe forty feet away while they were standing inches away from the bride.”
“True, but …” Vivian glanced toward the pergola. Beyond the palm trees, near the edge of the beach, gentle waves lapped against the pink sand.
“But …” the detective prompted.
Disturbed by what she was going to tell the detective, Vivian sighed. “I know how one of the bridesmaids could have fired that shot from forty feet away.”
Detective François frowned. “How?”
“The bridesmaid could have fired the shot because she wasn’t a bridesmaid.”
Shaking his head, the detective said, “I don’t understand.”
Vivian said, “Winnie Quasebarth was supposed to be a bridesmaid, but she was kicked out of the wedding the day before the ceremony. That’s how I ended up in the wedding. I took Winnie’s place.”
“Why was she kicked out of the wedding?”
Vivian hesitated, wishing she hadn’t said anything about Winnie before talking to Leo.
“Mrs. Bronson?”
“Winnie argued with Besi,” said Vivian. “And it got very intense, and Besi kicked Winnie out the wedding.”
His gaze circumspect, the detective said, “So, this Winnie Quasebarth has beef with the bride, gets kicked out of the wedding, and then the next day, at the wedding Winnie was kicked out of, the bride is shot dead. Interesting … ”
16
“Are you serious?” Leo stared at his father, not sure he’d heard him correctly.
“I don’t understand,” said Vivian, sitting next to him.
“I could not be more serious if I tried, Leonard,” his father thundered from behind the massive desk in his cavernous office.
“Dad, start from the beginning, please, “ Leo requested as he sat forward in the antique chair.
“I don’t know how to make it any plainer,” said Burt, sighing as he slumped back in his leather chair. “I got a call from the chief of police, who informed me that Winnie Quasebarth confessed to the murder of Besi.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Leo, dragging a hand down his jaw. “How the hell could Winnie have killed Besi? Winnie was kicked out of the wedding.”
“What evidence do the police have against her?” Vivian asked.
“I doubt they have any evidence against her,” said Burt, his frown deepening. “Her confession is obviously some misguided attempt to get Derek’s attention. The police never should have taken her claims seriously. She should not be in jail.”
The idea of Winnie killing Besi was farfetched, despite Winnie’s crazy outburst at the rehearsal party or the conversation Vivian had with Winnie. Leo was fairly certain that Winnie wasn’t a murderer, but why would she confess to killing Besi if she hadn’t done it?
“Winnie is a fragile girl,” said Burt. “She’s experiencing some mental trauma and should not be used as a scapegoat just because the police want to close the case and keep it out of the media.”
“You think the cops would accept a false confession just to say they solved Besi’s murder?” Leo asked.
Burt said, “This is a high-profile case, one which could negatively affect tourism. It is in the best interest of the St. Killian PD to make a quick arrest.”
“Have the police considered that Winnie might not have been physically able to kill Besi?” asked Vivian. “Detective François told CNN that th
e murder weapon was likely a high powered assault rifle. I doubt Winnie would be able to handle a gun like that.”
Leo said, “Actually, Winnie is an accomplished shooter. She did pistol and rifle shooting competitions at school. That’s how she, Besi, and Kelsea became friends. Winnie was trained by Australian special forces. Alfred Quasebarth hired a former sniper so Winnie could crush the competition.”
“Despite Winnie’s proficiency with firearms, I still do not believe she killed Bessemer,” said Burt. “I would like you to prove that, Leonard.”
Leo gaped at his father. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“If Winnie didn’t kill Besi,” said Vivian, “then the police shouldn’t find any evidence against her.”
“I’m afraid Winnie might try to incriminate herself to prove her guilt,” said Burt. “For that reason, Leonard, I am hoping you can prove her innocence.”
“Dad,” Leo began, hoping his rising frustration wouldn’t hamper his attempt to convince Burt to listen to reason and abandon the idea of making him investigate. “Baxter François is a great detective, and Janvier is pretty okay, too. I’m sure that the two of them, together, will be able to determine the veracity of Winnie’s claims.”
Burt exhaled. “Leonard, please do not try my patience about this.”
Grumbling, Leo capitulated.
“Now with that settled, if the two of you wouldn’t mind giving me a bit of privacy, I’d appreciate it,” said Burt. “I have to call Alfred Quasebarth, and I’m sure it’s going to be a difficult conversation.”
“Of course,” said Vivian, standing.
Leo stood, grabbed his wife’s hand, and guided her out of his father’s office.
Walking down the wide hallway back toward their guest room, Leo asked, “Why the hell would Winnie confess to killing Besi?”
“Do you believe her?” asked Vivian.
Leo exhaled. “Winnie didn’t kill anybody. François and Janvier will figure that out.”
“Burt wants you to do it,” reminded his wife.
Leo dragged a hand along his jaw. “Yeah, but—”
