Murder on the Lost Coast (He said, She said Mystery Series Book 2)

by Jeramy Gates

  “I thought she just hated him.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, too, but hating someone doesn’t mean you can’t love them as well.”

  “I’m pretty sure it does.”

  “Trust me. It doesn’t.”

  “Whatever. It would have been nice of you to tell me.”

  “I didn’t think I’d have to tell you something that was perfectly obvious.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t perfectly obvious. It doesn’t matter anyway. Gerard’s not the killer. He has a solid alibi.”

  “I suppose so,” Tanja said.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Not really. His girlfriend could be covering for him. But I still agree that he’s not Charlotte’s killer. Jacob perhaps, but not Charlotte.”

  I stared at her. “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Because he thought Charlotte sent us up here, remember? He wouldn’t have made that accusation if he had known she had been murdered. Besides, he’s not exactly a mastermind at concealing his emotions.”

  “Yeah, even I noticed that.” I sighed, thinking of the room full of people waiting for us back at the inn. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  “It already has been,” she said. “It’s almost four a.m.”

  “What are we going to do now?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Chapter 15

  Tanja

  The ATV ride back down the mountain was every bit as harrowing as our original ascent. The rain-soaked trail was so slick and muddy that the brakes were virtually useless. We were less than halfway down when the four-wheeler began to pick up speed, and suddenly the trees were flying by in a blur.

  “Joe, stop it,” I said, clinging to him with both arms wrapped tight around his waist. “Slow down!”

  “I can’t.” He turned the handlebars, gently working the brakes, and the rear-end swung around. Suddenly, we were sliding down the hill sideways. I screamed. Joe lurched to the side, throwing his weight out to keep us upright as he fought to bring the front end around. At the same time, he gunned the throttle.

  The engine roared, and the tires threw a wall of mud into the air behind us. The headlights flashed back and forth from the trail to the trees to the sheet of gray in front of us. I saw my life flash before my eyes. I found myself rising up on the foot pegs, bracing myself to jump.

  “Don’t!” Joe yelled over his shoulder. “Just hang on…”

  I thumped back down on the seat as he twisted the steering the other way. The ATV fishtailed for a few seconds. As it finally straightened out, I leaned around Joe just in time to see the shed go flying by on our right. I had the sinking feeling in my gut that we were going all the way to the beach, and maybe a little further…

  To my surprise, Joe somehow finessed the four-wheeler to start turning left. It wasn’t turning, really. More like a race car drifting around a corner, just barely touching the road. I closed my eyes and muttered a silent prayer. I felt the ground shift beneath us and heard the sudden change in terrain as we hit the patio. I opened my eyes, and realized we were now flying sideways along the slope, headed straight for the lobby.

  There was a loud screech as the brakes locked up, and a post flew by so fast I felt the wind. The next thing I knew, we were parked. Joe had somehow driven the four-wheeler across the hill and right onto the inn’s terrace, without so much as a scratch. I released my grip on him as he dismounted and stood looking down at me. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. I looked up at Joe, and he was grinning from ear to ear.

  “That was wild!” he said, roaring with laughter. “That’s what I call the fast way down.” I squeezed my hand into a fist and punched him in the arm.

  I was still shaking as we went back inside. Joe and I undressed on our way across the lobby, pulling off our parkas and soaking wet coats, leaving them on the hangers on the wall. As we returned to the lounge, I had visions of a warm fireplace and a hot cup of cocoa dancing through my head. Instead, I found the entire group gathered near the bar, waiting for us.

  Dana’s eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between us and something behind us. I picked up the clue a moment too late. I caught a flash of movement in the corner of my vision, and turned to see Blake emerging from the shadows behind us. His gun was in his hand again, and the look on his face said he was serious.

  “What are you doing?” I said. “We’ve already been through this, remember?”

  “Get over by the bar,” Blake said, gesturing for us to join the others. “Don’t even think about trying something.”

  I scanned the room, trying to put it together. Something had happened while we were gone. Something that didn’t quite make sense. I looked at them one at a time, and realized something else was amiss…

  “Where is Miguel?”

  The moment I said it, I heard the ATV fire up on the patio. Joe and I both turned. Through the lobby windows, I caught a glimpse of the four-wheeler’s headlights zooming up the trail. I heard the engine rev as Miguel turned off the main path and started up the slope. I gave Blake a confused look.

  “Miguel’s going up the mountain,” Blake explained. “He’s going to keep driving until he finds a cell signal. He’s going to call the sheriff.”

  “For what?” I said. “What’s the rush?”

  “To let him know we found the killer.”

  I was dumbstruck. “Blake, what are you talking about?”

  Blake smiled. “I figured out what’s been going on. It took me a while to put two and two together, but I did it. See, there’s always been something weird about Angus. I mean why is he here? A jazz musician? All alone? No girlfriends, no wife. When Charlotte died, my first thought was “Maybe he killed her.” I mean, he was there, wasn’t he? His room was right next to her office. But you two said his alibi was solid, and I figured since the two of you are pros, you must be right.

  “But after you left, Angus got careless. When he went to the bar for a refill, I saw the handle of his gun poking out from under the back of his shirt. That’s when I knew he’d been lying to us all along. The only thing I haven’t figured out yet is if he is working alone. That’s why I’m playing it safe. Nobody moves ‘till the sheriff gets here.”

  “Blake, where is the other gun?” I said.

  He reached back and pulled the weapon out of his belt. He held it up in his left hand so we could all see it. It was a tiny little double-barreled derringer, small caliber. I put a hand to my forehead and sighed.

  “Blake, give it back.”

  He twisted his face up. “What? Are you crazy, lady? I just told you, he’s the killer!”

  “I heard what you said. The problem is, you’re wrong. Completely wrong.”

  Blake’s face fell. “What are you talking about? He lied to you. Can’t you see that? He killed Charlotte, and he killed the old man, too.”

  “Can you prove it?” I said.

  Blake licked his lips. He didn’t say anything. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “What about a motive?” I said. “He must have had a reason for killing the two of them.”

  “I, uh… I’m not sure,” Blake said. “But we can figure it out, can’t we?”

  I glared at Angus. “Tell him,” I said. “It’s the only way to straighten this out.”

  Angus narrowed his eyes and glared back at me. “You have no right.”

  “You did it to yourself, when you let Blake see your gun. Tell him the truth, before somebody gets hurt.”

  His lips tightened. “Fine.” Angus reached into his back pocket, and Blake clicked back the hammer on his revolver. “Hold it!” he said. “You better move real slow.”

  Angus snorted. Nonetheless, very slowly, he stuck two fingers into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here,” he said, tossing it to me. I caught it, opened it up, and held it out where Blake could see it. He took a few steps closer as he studied the badge inside.
He lifted his gaze to stare at Angus.

  “You’re a detective, too?” he said in disbelief. “What is this? Are you all in on this together?”

  “I’ve never met these two before,” said Angus. “I’m an insurance fraud investigator. I was hired by Old Fidelity Insurers to investigate Charlotte prior to the sale of this property.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Nancy said. “You’re… I don’t know how to say this without offending you Angus, but you’re an alcoholic!”

  “Actually he’s not,” I said.

  “Of course he is,” Blake objected. “He’s been drinking like a fish since the moment we got here.”

  “Actually, he’s been pouring his drinks into the potted plants when no one was looking,” I said.

  Nancy gave me a mystified look. “How is that possible?”

  I smiled. “You remember the fumes, over by the piano? You said the smell of alcohol was almost enough to knock you out.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s why the smell was so strong over there? Because he was dumping his drinks in the tree?”

  “Yes. Remember when you slipped, and almost fell?”

  “Because someone had overwatered the plant,” she said.

  “No, nobody watered that plant because it’s not real. It’s plastic. What you slipped in was booze, which Angus had been dumping into that fake tree all night. So much that it eventually began to leak out of the planter.”

  “That doesn’t explain the piano playing,” said George. “I’ve been listening to you pound those keys all weekend. I would have sworn you were a professional. Not many people can play Billie Holiday like that.”

  “I am a professional,” Angus said with a sly grin. “I play the club circuit on the weekends with my jazz band. Investigative work is my day job.”

  “And you say you were investigating Charlotte?” said Blake. “What for?”

  He hesitated.

  “Go on,” I said. “What can it hurt now?”

  He sighed. “Almost five years ago, Charlotte took out a million dollar life insurance policy on her father. It was less than six months later that he died. When her father died, that was an immediate red flag. She was deeply in debt at the time, and the policy was fairly expensive. That was the second flag. When someone is having financial trouble, they usually don’t run out and buy a big expensive policy.”

  “So you suspected her of killing her own father?” said George. “That’s a bit morbid, isn’t it?”

  “It has been known to happen. Unfortunately, our investigation failed to produce any evidence of fraud. The company paid out, and Charlotte used that money to pay off her debt, and to renovate the property.”

  “But why now?” said Blake. “It’s been years. Why are you suddenly worried about it now?”

  “There is a statute of limitations on insurance fraud. It’s about to expire, and it’s the company’s last chance to recoup their money. Also, as you well know, the value of this property has skyrocketed in the last few years. If the company can prove fraud, they can file a lien against the property and possibly take ownership. A policy that turned out to be a major loss can be turned into a profit… and a nice bonus for me. That is, assuming your Chinese investors will still be interested.”

  Blake settled into a chair, dumbfounded. He put the gun on the table and covered his face with his hands. “I’m an idiot,” he said in a muffled voice. “I thought I had it all figured out. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not that bad. You actually did pick up on some valuable clues. You just didn’t put them all together in the right order. Don’t worry, it will make sense soon.”

  Blake leaned back in the chair and looked up at me. “But I didn’t figure out anything,” he said. “We still don’t know who the killer is. It could be any one of us.”

  “It is,” I said. “It’s somebody who has been here with us all weekend.”

  He narrowed his eyebrows. “Are you saying you know who the killer is?”

  I scanned the room, meeting their gazes one at a time. “Yes, I do. I know who the killer is. I wasn’t quite sure until just now, but thanks to you Blake, I’m absolutely certain.”

  His eyes widened a little. “You don’t think it’s me, do you? Because it’s not me.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “I’m sure every person in this room would say that… especially the killer.”

  Blake didn’t take that well. His eyes shifted nervously, and he scooted forward in his chair with his legs shaking as if he were about to spring into the air and take flight. I touched his shoulder. “Relax,” I said. “It will all make sense soon.”

  Joe was leaning back against the bar, watching me with a skeptical smile. I couldn’t tell if he had figured it out yet. I suspected that he thought I was bluffing; trying to get the killer to reveal himself. I wasn’t. I knew exactly who it was, and I was about to prove it. Angus was staring at me.

  “Well?” he said. “If you’re so sure who it is, aren’t you going to tell us?”

  “Not yet. Not until the sheriff gets here.”

  “What are we supposed to do until then?”

  “Start another pot of coffee,” I said with a grin.

  Chapter 16

  Joe

  I’d be lying if I said I understood my wife. I suppose that’s true of any man, but it’s especially true for me. You see, we’re very different. We come from wildly different backgrounds. I’m a country boy, she’s a city girl. I had a hapless, Oliver Twist-like childhood, while she enjoyed a comfortable middle-class upbringing in the suburbs. I’m interested in things like boating, sports, and fast cars. She’s perfectly happy spending the weekend at home, curled up with an old novel. I guess opposites really do attract.

  Strangely, I’ve learned that it’s not the few things we have in common that make us great partners, but the differences. We complement each other. Our unique perspectives, when shared, provide us with a deeper perception of the world around us. I suppose that’s true in any partnership, but with us, because of our intense personalities and combination of interests and experiences, it’s that effect on steroids.

  But we don’t always share everything, and at that moment, I began to realize that my wife had been withholding some of her observations. Maybe it was because things happened so fast that we didn’t really get a chance to discuss every detail of our investigation. Maybe it was because she’d wanted confirmation before saying anything. Personally, I think she just wanted to show off.

  Somehow, my wife knew who the killer was. How? What had I missed? I tried to make sense of it while I changed the filter in the coffee machine. I counted out six scoops, pieced it back together, and activated the brew cycle. I stood back behind the bar, looking at the others, wondering which one of them might be the killer -or if it was one of them at all. Had Tanja changed her mind about Gerard? What was it she wasn’t telling me?

  I tried to marry the facts in my mind: Jacob’s death, followed by Charlotte’s. The revelation that Angus had been investigating Charlotte for insurance fraud. The drama between Charlotte and Gerard, and the tension among her employees after the announcement…

  And suddenly I had it. At least I had the why. I still wasn’t completely sure about the who, but I had it narrowed down to two suspects. I relaxed, leaning back against the counter while listening to the bubbling sounds of the coffee machine and gazing at my wife. Once again, I found new respect for her. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was brilliant. My wife was a once-in-a-lifetime catch, and anyone that wasn’t jealous of me should have been. And she was about to prove it.

  The storm cleared out early that morning. By seven a.m., the sun was shining and Miguel was back from his trip up into the mountains. Thankfully, it had been successful. He said he’d called the sheriff and explained everything, and that Hillman was on his way. Not long after that, the sheriff’s helicopter came zooming down the coast and landed at the top of the hill behind the lighthouse
.

  Hillman came down the trail accompanied by the same two deputies from the day before. We watched them from the lounge with a growing sense of anticipation. It had been a long, sleepless night -an even longer weekend- but all was about to be revealed.

  The sheriff strode purposefully through the lobby and into the lounge. He stood looking at us with his hands on his hips, drawing his stern gaze slowly back and forth across the room. We stared back, bleary-eyed with exhaustion, our thirtieth cups of coffee steaming in front of us. We were all ready for it to be over. Well, almost all of us… one of us was about to be exposed as a murderer.

  “Thank goodness,” Nancy said. “Sheriff, please tell me you’re going to bring some sanity to this situation.”

  “I’m gonna do more than that,” he said, tapping the handle of the revolver at his side with the tip of his index finger. “Charlotte was a friend of mine.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Tanja said, rising from her seat. “Her body is upstairs. We left the crime scene-”

  “Sit back down,” Sheriff Hillman said. “Everybody just stay in your seats.” He pulled a folded paper out of his jacket and tossed it on the table. “This is a search warrant for the entire premises, including the rooms and belongings of all hotel guests. You’re all being investigated for the murders of Charlotte Rosen and Jacob Scott.”

  “Jacob?” Nancy said. “Then he was murdered?”

  “Strangled,” said the sheriff. “As far as I can tell, somebody strangled him and threw the body over the cliff.”

  Tanja and I exchanged a glance. Jacob hadn’t been poisoned. He’d been choked to death. The killer had to carry him, I thought… Who in that room could have carried Jacob’s limp body more than a hundred feet? Certainly not Dana, nor Nancy, but that didn’t narrow the list of suspects down. Eliminating poison as Jacob’s cause of death simply grew the list.

  The sheriff nodded at his deputies, and they headed upstairs to start their search. “That’s really not necessary,” Tanja said. “I’d be happy to tell you who the killer is, sheriff.”