“We found an ideal place.” Caity touched his shoulder and the warmth radiated all the way down to the bone.
“Yep.” He should’ve known she’d be fine with it. Caity was a sport. One of the many, many things he adored about her. “And we took care of the license yesterday morning. We’re right on track.”
“Glad you managed to get your license, pick your spot, and save a guy’s life. Sounds like you had a productive day yesterday,” Dutch said.
Spense blew out a breath. Not that he thought the incident wouldn’t ever come to light. He’d just hoped to keep his mom and Arlene in the dark a few days longer. He didn’t want them to worry.
“Look,” Gretchen said. “We’ve all seen the news.” She cast a side-glance at the moms.
“And what we’d like to know,” Arlene said, “is are you two late because you were pre-honeymooning in your bungalow, or have the local police somehow managed to cajole you into helping them find the woman who escaped after allegedly shooting her husband?”
Like her daughter, Arlene was big on innocent until proven guilty. Of course what she didn’t know was that the same woman had aimed a pistol at her daughter last night. And Spense would like to keep that information from her for as long as possible. But he wouldn’t lie. If it came up, it came out.
“The French police aren’t the cajoling types,” he said. “But as a matter of fact, Caity and I did agree to help. When we went to the station to give our statements this morning things got complicated.”
“Shocker.” Agatha’s fork clattered onto the table. “Atticus, I don’t like to interfere . . .”
Since when?
“But I have to say, if you’ve given your statements and saved a man’s life already then you’ve done your duty. This matter no longer concerns you.”
“I’m afraid it does, Mom.”
“Son, you may think planning a wedding isn’t important compared to catching criminals, but . . .”
“I don’t think that at all. And I promise we’re going to wrap this up in plenty of time.”
“But there are so many preparations and so little time,” Arlene said.
Agatha touched Arlene’s arm lightly. “We can help. And I’m not sure what’s left to do except find a photographer and inform the minister of the location.”
Arlene sighed. “What about the centerpiece? I suppose we could choose that for them. It’s only that Caity has such a love of flowers.”
“I’m sure you’ll do a great job, Mom,” Caity said.
“Fine. But I feel strongly you two should choose the cake.” Arlene crossed her arms over her chest.
“Then let’s get started. I’m ready to make a memory.” Spense took a bite of something gooey and chocolate, then pointed. “Let’s put this one on the short list.”
Gretchen and Dutch came out of a huddle.
“How about we make a memory Cassidy and Spenser style?” Gretchen said. “You can update us on the case while we eat cake. Two birds. Dutch and I want to help out, and no one else is around to overhear.”
Spense tilted his head toward the moms.
“If you think keeping us in the dark will stop us from worrying, it won’t. We know your work can be dangerous. The truth is, knowing what’s happening is better than imagining the worst. But maybe you think we can’t be trusted not to leak something to the press,” Agatha said.
“We trust you more than anyone,” Spense said.
Caity shrugged. “I think it’s a good idea. My head is brimming with questions.”
As was his. He wouldn’t mind using the others as a sounding board. “All right. I think I’ll let Caity tell it.” He wanted to let her choose how much to reveal to the moms. If she wanted them to know everything, that was good with him, but if she wanted to hold back what happened in their bungalow that was okay, too. Her call.
In the end, Caity told them the whole story, and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He preferred transparency whenever possible. He didn’t like keeping secrets from his family. And in this case, he was under no obligation to do so.
He turned his palms up. “Any questions?”
“A few,” Arlene said.
He suppressed a smile—it seemed she’d been taking notes on a napkin.
“First, I’d like to know, based on what you saw in the water, who was trying to kill who?”
And there you had it, the million-dollar question. “I don’t know,” Spense answered.
“But you saw it go down,” Dutch said.
“We did. I saw the bride fire the gun. And because of what happened in our bungalow, and because she conned her way out of jail, the inspector is assuming the bride was the aggressor.”
Caity straightened her back. “But it’s not as clear-cut as you would think. Spense and I both saw a struggle. But neither of us saw where the gun came from. So I’d say that’s on the list of unknowns—and a very important unknown in determining what really happened in the water.”
Dutch pulled out a tablet and began taking notes, too. “Question number one, whose gun was it, and where did it come from?”
“Maybe the groom had that gun in his pocket. Maybe he was trying to drown the bride—that’s what Spense thought was happening in the beginning—and she got the gun away from him and shot him in self-defense.” Arlene was making napkin notes again as she spoke.
“You said it’s a Ruger LCP II, that’s under one pound,” Gretchen said. “Rose could’ve hidden the pistol in her wedding gown. Maybe the groom saw it, and tried to dunk her in the water to kill the gun.”
“I don’t think she’d just stuff it down her dress. It would be too easy to spot. If she thought to carry a gun on her wedding day, that suggests premeditation. Maybe she had the dress made to conceal the weapon,” Caity said.
Agatha tugged the tablecloth. “It’s an odd theory though, that Rose might’ve brought a gun to her wedding. It doesn’t make sense to me. I certainly would not marry a man I wanted to murder.”
Good to know his mother was among the sane. Spense touched his heart and smiled at her.
Dutch began typing again. “I’ll check with the local police and ask them to inspect the gown carefully. You say you think they’re capable.”
“We do,” Spense said. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t have caught Rose in our bungalow. I’m surprised no one wants to know how the cops found her.”
“I do.” Arlene shoved away a piece of carrot cake.
“It was strong work on the part of Brousseau’s men. They were interviewing the front desk and learned that the only thing out of the ordinary that happened that night was that a woman ordered a fruit basket over the phone. It was sent to our room, but the credit card she used turned out to have been reported stolen. The men didn’t think it was a coincidence, so they returned to our bungalow to check things out.”
“So, you think Rose sent the fruit basket to find out where your room was? She followed the basket?” His mom would make a good detective.
“Apparently. It’s the only thing that seems to make sense,” he said.
“That doesn’t explain how she knew you were staying at the hotel.” Agatha was on a roll.
“She might have called around to ask, but the Dolphin Beach Hotel would be the logical place to look for us, since we were hanging out on Dolphin Beach that day.”
“But why on earth would she risk coming back to the hotel to find you? And what did she mean when she said she could explain everything? And if she did plan to kill her husband, why not just shoot him dead someplace normal, like in a hotel room? Would she even know the gun would work underwater? And you said the groom refused police protection. That makes no sense to me. Something’s off with this whole situation.” Arlene finally took a breath.
“These are great questions, but we don’t have the answers yet.” Caity rested her chin in her hand.
Then Spense’s phone buzzed, vibrating on the table. He checked the messages and looked up, licked his fingers and slid an outra
geous piece of marble cake with orange coconut frosting Caity’s way. “Check this out, hon.”
Caity forked a big bite loaded with icing into her mouth. “Delicious. I’m calling it,” she said with her mouth still full.
“We’ll take this one.” Spense got to his feet.
“But you haven’t tasted the other flavors,” the moms protested.
“We know what we like.” Spense pulled Caity up by the hand then turned to Dutch and Gretchen. “And we gotta go.”
“But we could definitely use your help with the case,” Caity added.
“Name it,” Dutch said.
“While you’re checking on the wedding gown, I’d also like to know if Tommy Preston and Rose Parker took out life insurance on each other. And anything you can dig up on their backgrounds.”
“We’re on it. But where are you going? Want us to tag along?”
“No let’s divide and conquer. Caity and I are heading back to Dolphin Beach. It seems there’s been more trouble. Not sure just what, but Inspector Brousseau says it’s urgent.”
Chapter 14
Wednesday
Near Plage Des Dauphins
Tahiti Nui
“Come on out now, Rose, my love.” The door to the barn rattled shut behind Tommy. She probably thought he couldn’t see her lurking in the shadows, crouching behind the waist-high fence of an empty pen. He could charge in there and drag her out, but he’d rather not wade through the bucket of slop she’d apparently kicked over in her haste.
“Let’s talk this over and see what we can work out,” he said. What was her game? Did she really think she could outwit him?
No answer.
He glanced at his watch.
Wait another minute.
Let her think she’s well hidden.
He had the upper hand, and he was enjoying it. “I’ll make you a deal, babe. You give me what I want, and I’ll tell the cops this was all a misunderstanding.”
From his vantage point he saw her lurch forward. As though she was actually considering taking him up on the offer. Maybe if he sweetened the pot. “You and Lilly can go home, and I’ll never interfere with either of you again.”
Rose climbed to her feet.
He stuck his pistol out front and watched, slack-jawed, as she came out of her corner. She marched right up to the wall of the pen and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips, bold as brass.
She would’ve made a damn fine wife.
“What is it that you want?”
Oh really? She didn’t know? He was the one with a concussion. “Don’t play games with me. I want the thumb drive.”
“And in exchange I get what?”
“I told you. I’ll tell the cops it was nothing—an accident. That I don’t want them to bring charges.”
“How generous of you, considering you’re the one who tried to murder me.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” She was probably lying, trying to confuse him. He couldn’t remember anything but bits and pieces about what happened in the water. Flashes of Rose with a pistol in her hand, swimming through blood, that mammoth of an FBI agent locking an elbow across his chest. What he did remember however was what happened before.
On the morning of their wedding, he’d caught her red-handed copying files from his computer. Until he’d seen her stick a thumb drive in her pocket, until he’d seen the reflection of his laptop’s screen in the mirror flashing SADIE. Until she’d slammed down the cover of that laptop to hide her treachery, he’d planned on making her not only his wife, but his true companion.
She could’ve had it all.
But she hadn’t wanted it all.
She hadn’t wanted him.
And that was the one thing he could never forgive. When she’d rejected him, she’d signed her death warrant . . . and Lilly’s, too, of course. Because Rose loved Lilly, but she didn’t love him, and he couldn’t have that. “Give me back the SADIE file and all is forgiven.”
“I don’t have it on me.” A visible shiver traveled the length of her body. He noticed her shirt was sweat soaked. She might have the chills from all that running and climbing and rolling down hills.
He had a sudden urge to wrap her in his arms . . . and strangle her.
His nose itched from all the hay lying around and it gave him an idea.
Keeping his pistol trained on Rose he sidestepped over to a pile of tools propped against the wall and grabbed a pitchfork.
Boom.
He banged the pitchfork’s handle on the floor. “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret. There’s no way out of this. I’ve got a gun, and this interesting pitchfork here, and you’ve got something that is useless to you but valuable to me.”
“You wouldn’t be threatening me if SADIE didn’t have the power to destroy you.”
It did, indeed. But it almost sounded as though Rose didn’t understand what she had. And if that was the case, how would she know to seek it out in the first place? But those weren’t the questions that mattered to him most. He craved the answer to a different query before he watched her die. “Why are you bent on destroying me, Rose? What have I ever done to you?”
She rubbed a spot of sunlight on her arm, and then looked up.
He followed the path of her gaze.
A rope hung from the roof—a swing for the kiddies.
He dropped the pitchfork and gripped the pistol with both hands. But he couldn’t shoot her until he had that file. “Don’t—”
The floor creaked.
Rose sprang, arms extended, reaching for the rope.
Too late, Tommy ducked. She came soaring over the stalls, feetfirst. A crushing blow to his chest sent him flying back. He landed against the far wall and crumpled to the floor as his gun went spinning across the floor.
Rose lunged for his Glock.
Tommy leaped, knocking her flat, before she reached the gun. He pinned her with his weight and twisted her arm behind her back. “You just signed your sister’s death warrant.” He put his mouth close enough to hers to take her breath into his lungs—one last time. “You’re both dead. I want you to know that, before I—”
Shouts and footfalls interrupted his promise.
“Hell.” He jumped off of her, grabbed his gun, and backed away.
A wild grin spread across her face, and she got into a crouch as if ready to spring again.
His heart raged in his chest.
If she stood her ground, he’d either have to shoot an unarmed woman in front of witnesses, or allow her to surrender and go back to the safety of a jail cell—he couldn’t touch her there. And he didn’t yet know what she’d done with SADIE.
Where is SADIE?
This crazy bitch might have the power to destroy him from beyond her grave.
“Run, Rosy. Run! Now, Rose!” His throat closed, and with a rage that flowed like poison through his blood he vowed that he would take from her the one thing she loved the most. “Run for your life if you ever want to see your sister again.”
A flash of anger sparked in her green eyes, like lightning on a stormy sea. “You forget I have SADIE. Touch one hair on Lilly’s head, and I give you my word, I will destroy you.”
Chapter 15
Thursday
Hôtel De Plage Dauphin
Tahiti Nui
A little impromptu task force, consisting of Caitlin, Spense, Gretchen, and Dutch had gathered in their hotel suite bright and early. As far as wrapping this case up went, yesterday had been a total bust. Rose Parker had escaped from her Papeete holding cell before they could interview her and allow her to explain everything, and then later, after being spotted at Dolphin Beach, she’d slipped through the police’s fingers yet again, reportedly making off with cash, clothing, and makeup she’d swiped from some tourists. Inspector Brousseau had summoned Caitlin and Spense to assist in the mess, but by the time they got there, there was little to be done.
Over Brousseau’s protest that it was not her responsibility, C
aitlin had reimbursed an irate food vendor for the cost of a stolen burger. The American family had declined her offer to make good on what Rose had pilfered from them. Then Caitlin, Spense, and Brousseau had spent the afternoon taking witness statements—including one account claiming that a man matching Tommy Preston’s description had chased Rose down the beach.
Tommy had, in fact, been released from the hospital early that same morning, but when a gendarme tracked him down, he was napping in his hotel suite and denied any knowledge of the incident, stating that he’d like to be updated in the event Rose was apprehended.
There had also been a report of a disturbance at a nearby property where a farmer and his wife spotted a woman about Rose’s size and build fleeing from the barn. The police had yet to confirm the veracity of that story, but there was no reason to doubt the farmer’s word. And finally, in the minor news department, Spense had missed his tuxedo fitting.
But today was a new day, and Caitlin had a feeling something was about to break.
Yesterday, at the cake tasting, they’d come up with some questions—today was about getting answers. While she and Spense had been chasing wild geese, Dutch and Gretchen had been gathering vital information.
“Okay, first up, we have a wedding dress report.” Gretchen fanned a set of photographs out on the desk. Different shots of Rose Parker Preston’s bloodied and torn gown. “Right off the bat, Brousseau’s team noted it appeared to be torn in the back, with multiple buttons missing. Which might mean it was ripped in the struggle in the water with her husband, or that she deliberately tore it off to make a faster getaway.”
“Or both,” Caitlin said. “If the gown was torn during a struggle, it would’ve been easier for Rose to shed. I can’t imagine how she could’ve gotten out of a wedding gown so fast and made her getaway otherwise. Have you ever tried to undo one of those things?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to it.” Spense grinned and put his hands behind his head.
She flushed. She’d walked right into that one. “But a struggle still doesn’t tell us who the aggressor was. Either party could’ve initiated a physical battle underwater. What else did you find?”
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