Dead Silent (A Jettine Jorgensen Mystery, Book 1)

by S. L. Menear

  “We’re well-rested and ready to assist you, right gentlemen?” I nudged Leo and Hugo.

  “Yes, we’re here for you and the family. Don’t worry about a thing.” Leo hugged Gwen.

  Tea, cucumber sandwiches, and biscuits were served. We spent a half-hour making small talk, and then we freshened up for the funeral.

  Westminster Abbey was filled with two thousand dignitaries, friends, and villagers from Colchester.

  I marveled that every inch of the structure was a work of art. I sat in the front row on the left side with Clive, Gwen, Leo, Hugo, and Juliet. The queen and several royals sat in the right front row. The traditional funeral lasted an hour.

  Colchester was an hour and a half drive from London. As the Rolls climbed the hill to the castle, the winding driveway was impressive even in winter. A moat full of water fed by a nearby river encircled the base of the hill, and a gated drawbridge allowed access to the other side. Eight hundred years old, Colchester Castle loomed above us, dominating the landscape with its towering turrets and imposing ramparts and parapets.

  A brief interment ceremony was held at the burial site in the family cemetery. Then we greeted one hundred invited guests at the reception in the castle.

  Two hours later, I finally had a moment alone with Gwen after all the guests had departed. “I see you’re wearing your aunt’s favorite jewelry. The brooch and ring go well with your plain black sheath.”

  Gwen put her hand over the brooch. “She gave these to me before she passed. They’re family heirlooms that go back centuries. According to legend, they were forged by Merlin for King Arthur’s beloved Queen Guinevere.”

  “What an awesome history. I’m sure you’ll treasure them always.” I admired the unique brooch and ring.

  She lowered her voice. “There’s something else. Uncle Clive made a drastic, unorthodox maneuver yesterday, but it was totally legal.”

  “What did he do?” I braced myself for shocking news.

  “He adopted me so that all his holdings, including Colchester Castle, will pass to me when he dies. It’s tricky in England for titled families. Clive has no male heirs in his family line and no children. I’ve always been more like a daughter than a niece to him and Aunt Liz, especially after my parents died. My new legal name is Lady Guinevere Stuart Pendragon, and someday I’ll be Duchess of Colchester. Wild, huh?”

  “I didn’t see that coming. Does this mean you’ll have to live here when you inherit?”

  “Only for brief periods of time throughout the years. It’ll be fun attending royal balls and such. And I expect you to be my wingman. Two girls from Florida playing princess.” She smiled.

  “I guess we’d better have Cam add to our meager ballgown wardrobe.” I grinned. “I do like dressing up. Any chance we’ll meet handsome princes?”

  “Clint fills that role for me, and I thought maybe you and Pierce might get there when you’re ready to date again.”

  “OMG, you don’t know! Is there a place we can sit and talk privately?” My tone and facial expression conveyed the gravity of my words.

  “Come with me.” Gwen led me into a quiet sitting room and closed the door. “Is this about Pierce?”

  We sat beside each other on a velvet-covered loveseat.

  I took a breath. “Brace yourself. The short answer is Pierce might be a serial killer.” I let that sink in a moment and then told her everything I’d learned about all the murders.

  “Are you saying we can’t nail him in court because the mountain of evidence is all circumstantial?”

  “Yes, but Hunter may have a few more pieces of the puzzle by the time we get home.”

  Gwen pursed her lips. “Then we have to figure out a way to trap him and make him confess.”

  “He’s very clever, and if he suspects we know, I’m not sure what he’ll do. Murder isn’t a problem for him. He would kill all of us if he could figure out a way to do it without getting caught.”

  She bit her lip. “We’ll have to pretend we still think a hitman killed your parents and the mayor. Don’t even mention Lola Brown or Cindy Thompson.”

  “Right. He’s a dangerous man. We need to tread lightly and come up with a plan.”

  Thirty-Six

  Our flight home departed Heathrow at noon and landed at Palm Beach International Airport at 4:30 p.m. local time. Leo, Hugo, and I hadn’t been in England as long as Gwen, so we hadn’t adjusted to the five-hour time difference. We were bleary-eyed when we climbed into the limo.

  The driver dropped Gwen and the men off first, then drove next door to my house.

  Sophia and the puppies greeted me like I’d been gone for months. It felt good to be missed.

  “Tell me everything.” Sophia sat beside me on a comfortable leather sofa in the great hall.

  After filling her in on the highbrow funeral, I asked, “Any news from Hunter?”

  She held up a fancy box. “Hunter sent us these Sweet Dreams chocolates today. The label says they’re infused with relaxing herbs that aid sleeping. I can’t wait to try them.”

  “What about the investigation? Did he learn anything new?”

  “He called yesterday. Turns out Pierce got a waiver to fly his fighter jet to Freeport two years ago to give the Chief Councilor of Grand Bahama a ride at a small airshow. He parked next to your parents’ jet the night before they were scheduled to return home. We think he faked working on his airplane late at night and sabotaged their jet when no one was looking.”

  “I can’t believe he fooled me. How could he murder Mom and Dad and the pilots without the slightest bit of remorse?” I balled my fists, wishing I could punch something to release my anger, but I didn’t want to upset the puppies.

  Sophia shook her head. “The guy is a genuine psychopath.”

  I blew out a sigh. “What about blowing up our dive boat? Any news on that?”

  “Pierce bought an offshore speedboat that had been confiscated in a drug bust. It has extra-long-range fuel tanks and can easily make the short round trip between here and Freeport nonstop. He probably sped to your dive site, blew up the boat, and cruised home without ever docking in the Bahamas. There’s no proof of him having been there.”

  I strode to the terrace doors and back while I brought my anger under control. Pausing, I gazed down at Sophia. “I told Gwen about Pierce, and she thinks we should tell him we’re sure a hitman hired by the mayor committed the murders. We need Pierce to think he’s safe so we can trap him.”

  Sophia cocked her head. “How do you intend to do that?”

  I spread my hands. “Not a clue. Any ideas?”

  “A few, but they all end with me shooting him in the head.”

  “You never know. It might come to that. In the meantime, we’d better play it cool around him.” I rubbed Pratt and Whitney’s ears.

  Sophia smirked. “Right, play it cool and keep our guns cocked.”

  The gate signal buzzed, and I checked the security monitor. “Uh oh, it’s Pierce.” I turned to Sophia. “What should I do?”

  She patted the pistol hidden in a thigh holster under her dress. “Let him in.”

  I pressed the button to open the gate and ran upstairs to grab my handgun. I racked the slide, shoved the weapon into the inner band of my stocking, and trotted back down the stairs.

  The doorbell blasted “Ride of the Valkyries” just as my breath recovered from the sprint. In my state of heightened nerves, the forceful tune hit me like an air-raid siren and made me feel like diving for cover.

  I took a moment to compose myself and paste a big smile on my face before I opened the door. “Hello, Pierce. Good to see you. Come in.” I hugged him.

  “I heard you were due home late this afternoon, so I took a chance and stopped by.” He followed me into the great hall. “Hello, Sophia.”

  She forced a smile and stood. “Hi, Pierce. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Actually, I’d like to save you the trouble and take you lovely ladies out to an early dinner at the Bistro
. We won’t stay long. I’m sure Jett’s tired after her trip to England.” He admired my blue dress. “Looks like you’re ready to go out.”

  “Dinner sounds nice, but we haven’t left the puppies home alone yet. They’re only three months old.”

  “If you keep them leashed, they’re allowed on the restaurant’s outdoor deck. It might be a good experience for them.” He leaned over to pet the dogs, and they backed away. “Huh, they’re acting shy now.”

  “I’ll get their harnesses and leashes.” Sophia walked into the kitchen.

  “Well?” Pierce looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

  “Okay, let’s go.” I slung my purse over my shoulder and helped Sophia wrestle the dogs into their harnesses.

  My cell rang. It was Gwen. I excused myself and stepped away.

  “Jett? Are you okay? Is that Pierce’s dad’s Bentley in your driveway?”

  “Pierce is taking Sophia and me to dinner on the waterfront terrace at the Bistro, and we’re bringing the dogs. Should be interesting.”

  Pierce walked up. “If that’s Gwen, ask her if she’d like to join us.”

  She heard what he said. “Yes, swing by and pick me up. I’ll bring my gun.”

  I slipped the phone into my purse. “She would love to come.”

  “Good. Let’s go. I’m dying to hear all about your trip and the royal funeral.”

  We followed the hostess along an outside path to the waterfront terrace and settled at a round table bordering the Intracoastal Waterway. The puppies snuggled on the deck between my chair and Sophia’s, and Pierce sat between Gwen and me.

  After the server delivered our drinks, Pierce lifted his wine glass. “A welcome back toast for Gwen and Jett.”

  “It’s good to be home.” Gwen took a sip of chardonnay. “It’s been a draining experience.” She smiled at Pierce. “Thank you for the flowers you sent to the castle. They were lovely.”

  “Are you up to talking about the funeral?” he asked gently.

  She nodded. “There were over two thousand people at Westminster Abbey, including the queen and several members of the royal family.” She explained, “The royals didn’t attend the reception at the castle, so that relieved some of the pressure. But we still had to contend with a hundred guests for the dinner.”

  “Sounds like it was a memorable but stressful event.” Pierce patted Gwen’s hand.

  Sophia joined in. “What have you been up to, Pierce?”

  “I saw Marjorie Wentworth yesterday. My firm is handling her late husband’s will. She mentioned she had a visit from Jett and her dogs.” He studied my face for a reaction.

  I smiled. “Yes, my puppies cured Marjorie’s migraine. Mom taught me animals have healing powers, especially wolves.”

  If Pierce was expecting a panicked look from me, I disappointed him. I played poker with Navy SEALs and usually won. I’d make sure his fishing expedition was a bust, but I’d have to be careful to hide my anger.

  He took a sip of merlot and grinned at us. “I stopped by the marina to check on Juris Prudence yesterday. One of the dockhands said he saw Hunter looking at her.”

  Sophia crossed her arms. “Who the heck is Juris Prudence?”

  “She’s my Cigarette speedboat. The name fits, don’t you agree?” He grinned smugly.

  I gazed into his innocuous blue eyes, unnerved that someone so evil could appear so normal. Goosebumps prickled my skin, and I rubbed my arms. “My uncle is looking to buy an ocean-going speedboat. Is yours pretty?”

  “She’s navy blue with a light blue interior. Nothing flashy, but she’s scary-fast on a calm day.”

  “Sounds fun.” Gwen bit her lower lip. “Do you take it out often?”

  “Not lately. Too busy with court cases.” He searched our faces. “Any new leads on the murders?”

  Sophia shook her head. “I told Jett to drop it. Mayor Peabody hired a hitman to kill her parents, and then the hitman probably killed Peabody for reasons we’ll never know. He must be long gone now, and she’d never be able to prove he did it anyway. Better to fuhgeddaboudit.”

  “She’s right. I wanted to know what happened to my parents. Now I know, and it’s time to move on.” I took a long drink of merlot and leaned back as our meals were served.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, then made small talk. When the waiter came to take dessert orders, Gwen said, “No, thanks. Hunter sent me a box of Sweet Dreams chocolates, and I’m having one or two of those tonight.”

  “Hunter sent us a box too.” I smiled at the waiter. “Sorry, no dessert for us.”

  Pierce leaned back. “My mother loves those chocolates. She claims they have just enough CBD oil and valerian root to help her sleep without ruining the taste of the chocolate.”

  I stifled a yawn. “I hate to eat and run, Pierce, but the jetlag is catching up with me. Thanks for a delicious meal.”

  He signaled for the check, and soon we were back at Valhalla.

  He walked us to the door. “Are you sure I can’t drop you next door, Gwen?”

  “Don’t bother. A walk on the beach will do me good, especially after the cold, wet weather in England. Thanks for the nice dinner. Goodnight, Pierce.”

  He retreated to his dad’s Bentley. We watched him drive away and then went inside.

  Sophia helped me unharness the dogs, and we took them out back for a run. As they romped on the grass, I settled beside Sophia and Gwen on terrace chairs.

  Sophia nudged us. “Well, girls, I think he knows we know.”

  Gwen tensed. “What do you mean? I’m sure we didn’t give anything away when he questioned us.”

  I answered, “No, but he knows you’re a detective, and I work in Navy Intelligence. Maybe he assumed we’d figure it out.”

  “The thing is, clever lawyers never ask a question if they don’t already know the answer,” Sophia said. “He probably nosed around while you were gone, found out about the questions you and Hunter have been asking, and put two and two together. The dinner was an attempt to confirm his suspicions.”

  “What do you think he’ll do now?” I asked.

  Sophia leaned forward. “The way I see it, he has two options. He can steal as much of his parents’ money as possible and flee to a country with no extradition, or he can find a way to eliminate you and Hunter and make it look like an accident.”

  “What about you and me?” Gwen asked Sophia.

  “I don’t think he sees me as a threat, and if Jett were dead, I’d be out of a job and have to move away.” Sophia patted Gwen’s hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way. He’d use your parents’ deaths and the loss of your aunt against you and claim your judgment is clouded. A good lawyer would blame everything on the mayor and his nonexistent hitman. Pierce might even try to ruin your career as a police detective, painting you as unstable.”

  “But, I’m‍—”

  Sophia held up a hand. “None of it’s true, but that doesn’t mean a scumbag lawyer couldn’t paint a picture with a bunch of lies coupled with your recent loss.”

  I bit my lip. “This is bad, and Hunter is out of town until tomorrow afternoon.”

  Gwen yawned. “We know Pierce is a careful planner, so he’s not going to do anything tonight. We’ll get a good night’s sleep and then come up with a plan.”

  I grabbed my keys. “Forget the walk on the beach. I’m driving you home.”

  When we pulled up in front of Gwen’s house, I walked her inside. Hugo and Leo had left the box of Sweet Dreams chocolates out with a note. “Hope you don’t mind. We tried a few. They’re very tasty.”

  Gwen laughed. “We’re all chocoholics.”

  “Hunter knows us well.” I waved goodbye.

  Thirty minutes later, Sophia was tucked into bed and sound asleep. I chose a chocolate from the box as I headed to my bedroom with the dogs.

  By the time I’d changed into my nightgown, I could barely keep my eyes open. The last thing I remembered was hiding my pistol under a pillow and petting the puppies.<
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  Thirty-Seven

  Pierce

  Pierce’s parents were deep asleep after consuming drugged chocolates like the ones he had sent to Jett, Sophia, and Gwen in Hunter’s name. He went downstairs and loaded a continuous-loop recording into the security system. It showed an empty backyard and no activity outside the rear of the mansion. His parents didn’t have interior cameras for privacy, and their staff were daily with no live-ins.

  Once again, he read the backup fake suicide note he’d written:

  I’m still devastated by my parents’ murders and too despondent to carry on knowing the killer will never be caught. I drugged Sophia and Gwen so they can’t interfere. It’s time to join my parents at Odin’s endless banquet in Valhalla. I leave my entire estate to my uncle, Hunter Vann, and ask him to end my parents’ murder investigation and allow me to rest in peace.

  Forgive me,

  Jettine Jorgensen

  Pierce intended to write the note on Jett’s desktop computer and use her printer for authenticity, but if that wasn’t possible, he had this copy ready. He peeked at his watch. Almost three in the morning. He checked his dart-gun, loaded with tranquilizer darts intended for Jett’s guards, and two extras for Sophia and Jett, but only if the drugged chocolates failed to knock them out. A pint of cheap whisky rested in a vest pocket. He had everything he needed.

  Dressed in black, he felt like James Bond as he spread his black paraglider on the beach, donned the engine backpack, and secured the chute to his harness. He checked his untraceable SIG P226 pistol and silencer, secure in a hip holster, and the night-vision gear strapped to his head. A moonless, cloudy sky and a fifteen-mph wind from the northeast made his task simple. He gave the risers a firm yank, and the chute rose above him. He turned into the wind and gunned the engine to full power as he ran across the beach.