“Just water,” Bonnie replied, her voice raspy. “I don’t need the caffeine. I’m jittery enough.”
“I don’t blame you.” Rowan took the seat at the head of the table, enjoying her position as lead interrogator. “Emily was probably a friend of yours, right?”
Bonnie exchanged a quick look with Lettie before swallowing hard and nodding. “We spent a lot of time together because we were all assistants. We were supposed to coordinate our efforts so we never overlapped. That meant we met twice a week to schedule things.”
“You must be broken up about her death,” Ivy said. “I mean ... for her to die the way she did, running on the deck during a blackout, all of that darkness surrounding her, people she thought of as friends grouped together to end her life.”
Bonnie balked. “What? How do you know that?” She realized what she said too late to take it back. “I mean ... what makes you think that happened?”
Rowan and Ivy were supposed to play it cool, warm up the girls and get them talking if they could while Jack and Quinn handled the bigwigs. Ivy was good at reading people, though, and she sensed a chink in the group’s armor that she could exploit.
“We know everything that happened,” Ivy lied, ignoring the sidelong look Rowan lobbed in her direction and focusing her full attention on Bonnie. “We know that you were all drinking together at the Neptune Bar. We know that you were having a good time.”
“I hardly think we were having a good time,” Lettie interjected. “We were mourning a friend, drinking in her honor.”
“A friend that was killed by the same people who killed Emily Little,” Rowan pointed out.
“No, that’s not true.” Bonnie turned shrill. “That’s not what happened at all.”
“Shut up,” Lettie snapped, her temper showing. “Why are you acting like an idiot? They don’t know anything. They’re simply trying to get you to admit you know something, which we don’t because we weren’t involved.”
Lettie was smarter than Bonnie, but not by much, Ivy internally mused. They were both weak links. One good push would send them both over the edge.
“Let me tell you what I think happened,” Ivy said, a plan forming. “I think you were in the Neptune having a few drinks, probably reminiscing about how horrible Margaret was and how nobody was sorry to see her dead. You could do that because everyone in your group hated Margaret and you didn’t have to worry about offending anyone.”
Lettie jutted out her lower lip. “That is not true.”
Ivy ignored the denial. “At some point Emily let it slip that she knew who killed Margaret. She was always a loose thread you weren’t sure you could keep from fraying. Heck, maybe she knew you were going to kill Margaret from the start and you were worried she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. That’s possible, right?”
“We didn’t kill anyone.” Bonnie sounded like a strangled mouse. “Stop saying that.”
“Emily realized what was about to happen when it was too late to run,” Ivy said. “You were in the hallway and the blackout occurred. Did you cause that, or was it simply a happy coincidence?”
“How would we cause that?”
“So ... a happy coincidence.” Ivy already assumed that was the case, but she was happy for the confirmation. “Emily realized her fate in the hallway and she was desperate to get away. She ran, believing that if she found people on the deck that she would be okay. You couldn’t hurt her with people present.
“Unfortunately for Emily, the deck was empty,” she continued, losing herself in the memory of the event. “It was storming. People were inside. There were no lights because of the power outage. You had a perfect opening to kill Emily, so that’s what you did.”
“No!”
“Don’t bother lying,” Rowan interjected, a plan forming. “Even though the power was out, the cameras on the deck run on a backup generator. They’re night-vision. We know what happened out there.”
“But ... .” Bonnie made horrified chicken noises as she flapped her arms. “It wasn’t our fault. We didn’t want it to happen. Emily wouldn’t keep her mouth shut, though. She knew what happened in Margaret’s room, and even though she was part of the plan at the start, she decided she was going to confess when we got home. We couldn’t have that.”
Rowan leaned back in her chair, triumphant. “And who actually did the deed? Was it Johnson or Guthrie?”
“Does it matter?” Bonnie was morose. “We’re all going to prison.”
“Oh, it matters.”
JACK STOOD IN THE FAR corner of the interrogation room, his arms folded over his chest. He was mildly amused at the setting, never having been in an interrogation room this clean before, but he was having a good time watching Johnson, Guthrie, and Farmer squirm like worms on the end of a hook.
“I don’t know what you want us to say,” Guthrie offered. “We don’t know what happened to Margaret or Emily. If we knew, don’t you think we would tell you?”
“I guess that depends,” Quinn replied. “If you have something to lose by sharing the story, I can’t see why you would volunteer any information.”
“And what would we have to lose?” Guthrie was the picture of innocence, except for his eyes, which flashed with hatred and loathing. “Margaret was the face of our organization. Losing her is a blow. We don’t benefit from that.”
“Maybe not over the short term,” Quinn agreed. “Over the long term, though, that’s a different story. You’re trying to point a finger at violence in the media. For Margaret to be taken down in a violent manner, that sort of makes her a martyr for the cause, doesn’t it?”
“I ... .”
“Sure it does,” Jack said hurriedly, cutting Guthrie off before he could comment. “She’s going to be associated with your group forever. She’ll always be the crusader who was cut down in her prime by a villain who only proved she was the right woman for the job.”
Guthrie’s lips curved down. “Margaret was a tireless promoter for the group. As sad as it is, she would be happy to know that her death meant something. She was a … visionary … as far as our group is concerned. She was a powerhouse.”
“And that bothered you because you were supposed to be equals,” Quinn noted. “You, Brenda, and Margaret founded the group together. At first, you didn’t think much of it when she was the one getting interviewed by local newspapers. You had to take whatever publicity you could get.
“As the group started growing, though, and the message spread, bitterness became pervasive,” he continued. “Margaret became the official face of the group, and that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“So you think we killed her?” Guthrie challenged. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
“I think Margaret had an extreme personality,” Quinn replied without hesitation. “I think she was hard to deal with and the more attention she got, the bigger her ego grew. I think she looked down on you and there became a point where it was intolerable.”
“The cruise must have been a godsend,” Jack added, his demeanor calm. “You couldn’t attack her in a metropolitan area. Cameras are always an issue. I have to hand it to whoever suggested the cameras be turned off in your little corner of the ship, though. That was a masterful stroke.”
“You should’ve thought about those cameras when you went after Emily Little, though,” Quinn said.
“We didn’t go after Emily Little,” Farmer barked, her eyes wild. “How can you even suggest that? She was a young woman, a girl really, and she had her whole life ahead of her. Why would we go after her?”
“I can answer that,” Ivy said, walking into the room without knocking. The ballsy move irritated Quinn, but not enough for him to interrupt her.
“Who are you?” Johnson asked, looking her up and down with a jaded eye. “I didn’t realize ship security employed a woman with pink hair. I was already unimpressed with things given how many people have died under your supposed watch, but this is simply too much.”
“Yes, my hair
color is so much worse than murder,” Ivy drawled, rolling her eyes.
“What did you find out?” Jack asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Did they admit to what happened?”
Ivy nodded. “They’re being moved to holding cells right now. You were right about the power outage, Quinn. They didn’t plan it. They simply took advantage of what happened. They didn’t realize there were night-vision cameras on the deck that work on generator power.”
It took Quinn a moment to realize what Ivy was saying, the lie she was doubling down on. He was impressed with her fortitude. “Yes, well, we were just about to get to the camera situation in here.”
“What cameras?” For the first time since entering the room, Guthrie looked worried. He shifted on his seat and glanced to his left and right, obviously looking for support from Johnson and Farmer. Neither returned his gaze. “What cameras are you talking about?”
“There are cameras on the deck and they don’t go down in case of a power outage,” Quinn lied smoothly. “We saw what happened the night Emily Little was murdered.”
“We know that you were the one who strangled her, Mr. Guthrie,” Ivy added helpfully. “We also know that you’re the one who killed Margaret in her room. She thought Mr. Johnson was coming for another special visit, a private one, but you showed up instead. He was supposed to do the deed – that’s why he got close to her in the first place and had no specific job description in his biography – but he chickened out at the last minute. Since you were the one pushing for her death, you had to kill her. It turned out to be more fun than you expected, didn’t it?”
Guthrie worked his jaw. “I think I need a lawyer.”
“I think you do, too,” Quinn said. “In fact ... .”
He didn’t get a chance to finish what he was saying. Guthrie was on his feet, lightning quick, and he grabbed Ivy around the throat as he jerked her in front of him and pressed his back to the wall to make sure he couldn’t get attacked from behind.
“Now you listen to me! I want off this ship right now. I’m not going to let you hold me. I’m not going to jail.”
Jack, fury in his eyes, took two long strides toward Guthrie. He only stopped when the man gave Ivy a vicious shake and caused her eyes to go wide as her oxygen intake was cut off.
“I’m not kidding,” Guthrie hissed. “I want off this ship. I was planning on running in Nassau anyway. I made arrangements. I realized after the fact that taking out Emily was a mistake, but it was too late. I couldn’t change what happened.”
“Why did you kill her?” Quinn asked, alarmed. The look on Jack’s face told him the big man was going to launch himself at Guthrie to save Ivy. Since Ivy could get hurt in the process, Quinn was keen to keep that from happening. “Why not just let her go?”
“Because Emily couldn’t take the guilt,” Ivy volunteered, her anger on full display as she clawed at Guthrie’s hand. “Stop touching me. I don’t want you touching me.”
“Shut up!” Guthrie gave her another violent shake. “You’re my ticket out of here, for better or worse. I’m taking you with me. Once I get off the ship, once I’m safe and away, I’ll let you go.”
“Oh, whatever.” Ivy was at the end of her rope. “No one believes that. You’ve murdered two women. You’ve got a taste for it now. You won’t let me live because it’s not in your nature. Oh, hey, maybe you’ve played too many video games.”
“You’ve got a mouth on you.” Guthrie squeezed Ivy’s throat. “Don’t push me, girl!”
“Let her go.” Jack’s voice was dark and dangerous as he stared Guthrie down. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands if you don’t.”
“Oh, really?” Guthrie didn’t look worried. “Have you ever done that? I have. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“It got easier the second time, though, didn’t it?” Jack snapped. “You enjoyed it the second time. You’re a sick bastard. As for what I’m capable of doing to you, you’d be surprised. If you hurt her, I swear, you’re going to find out.”
“He’s not joking.” Quinn tried one more time for calm. “He’s a police officer from Detroit. They have different rules there. He’ll take you out without thinking twice about it. Especially if you hurt her.”
“And what does she have to do with him?”
“She’s going to be my wife,” Jack replied without hesitation. “She’s already the love of my life. People have killed for less than love, but love is the greatest motivator out there. If you don’t let her go right now, I will end you. I am not kidding.”
Guthrie blinked several times in rapid succession, uncertain. “But ... how am I supposed to get off this ship without her?”
“That’s not going to happen regardless,” Quinn replied quietly. “We knew you were guilty when we brought you in. There’s no getting out of here. The entire facility is being watched via closed-circuit cameras. There is no escape for you.”
“But ... .” Guthrie was clearly having trouble accepting that simple fact. “This is not how it was supposed to go down.”
“Well, not everything works out how you expect it to,” Quinn said. “You need to release Ivy. If you don’t, I won’t be able to stop what’s about to happen. Jack will kill you.”
Guthrie gave Jack a long look, perhaps internally debating whether he could take the big man. Finally, he realized he wasn’t strong enough to fight a trained police officer and he slowly released Ivy, giving her a disgusted shove in Jack’s direction.
“Fine. Take her.”
Jack caught Ivy with his left arm, pulling her close. With his right, he unleashed a nasty jab to Guthrie’s face, causing the man to widen his eyes as he staggered to his side and dropped to his knees before sliding to the floor.
“Nice shot,” Quinn noted as Jack buried his face in Ivy’s hair. “It’s going to be hell to explain to the authorities when we land, but it was a nice shot.”
“I don’t care about explaining it.” Jack pulled back and stared into Ivy’s eyes. “He had it coming. Are you okay, honey? Did he hurt you?”
Ivy’s grin spread across her face quickly. “No. I’m fine. I got to interrogate people and make them cry. Those assistants were putty in my hands.”
Jack laughed as he ran his hands over her back. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. What about your neck? Is your neck okay?”
“It’s fine, although I may need a massage later.”
“I’m happy to oblige.”
“Somehow I knew you would say that.” Ivy rolled to the balls of her feet and smacked a loud kiss against the corner of his mouth. “So, who wants lunch? I’m starving.”
Twenty
Jack and Ivy swung their linked fingers as they moved through the adorable Nassau market later that afternoon. Once the confessions were on record — some more tearful than others — Jack found he could easily let the investigation go. It was Quinn’s domain, after all. Jack was on vacation, and he was determined to enjoy the last three days they had together.
“What about this?” Jack pointed toward a funky mask. “I think Max would love that.”
Ivy insisted on picking up souvenirs for her loved ones, something Jack found adorable, and they’d spent the past two hours selecting things for her parents and his mother and sister. All that was left was her beloved brother, and she was having trouble finding something good enough.
“Why would I want to get him a mask?” Ivy asked, wrinkling her nose. “That’s not very vacation-y.”
Jack snickered. “Yes, but I think he should cover up that hideous face of his as often as possible.”
“I’m going to tell him you said that.”
“Go ahead.” Jack took the mask off the rack and flipped it over, grinning when he read the back. “It’s a fertility mask. It’s supposed to make him more potent and desirable to women.”
“Really?” Ivy was suddenly interested. “He would actually like that.”
“He would,” Jack agreed, grinning. “I think it’s a win
ner.”
“Okay.” Ivy paid for the mask and added it to her haul, which included a necklace Jack insisted on buying her to mark the trip. She bought him a shell necklace in return, something she knew he wasn’t overly keen about, but he agreed to wear it to make her happy. That was good enough for her. “We should get going. Do you know where the restaurant we’re supposed to be meeting Quinn and Rowan is located?”
“Yeah. It’s about three blocks that way.” Jack pointed. “I’m hungry. This is good timing.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“No, I’m always a fool in love for you. I’m only hungry half the time.” He kissed the back of her neck as she giggled, happy when she tucked herself in at his side for the walk to the restaurant.
It only took them a few minutes to find the outdoor eatery, which was located on the water and absolutely gorgeous. Ivy was in love with the twinkle lights decorating the patio, and she waved when she caught sight of Rowan.
“They’re already seated.”
“Of course they are,” Jack grumbled as he followed her toward the table. “Quinn needs to pick out the table. Otherwise he won’t be able to eat because he won’t feel in control.”
Ivy slid him a sidelong look. “I thought you were over this competition thing with him.”
“Who says we’re in competition?”
“Anyone who has ever spent more than two seconds with you two in the same room.”
“I think you’re exaggerating, honey. I don’t have a competitive bone in my body.”
She snorted, genuinely amused. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I think whenever you and Max decide to fight for couch superiority at our house.”
“Hey, I live there now. I’m king of the couch.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Rowan greeted them with a happy smile, helping Ivy with her bags as she settled and “oohing” and “aahing” over the souvenirs as Ivy opened a bag and gave her a gander of the treasures.
“What’s with the fertility mask?” Quinn asked when Ivy held it up. “Are you guys planning for kids already?”
Wicked Ghostly Seas: A Rowan Gray, Harper Harlow and Ivy Morgan Mystery Omnibus Page 39
