My heart sank as I stared at his shaking body on the grass. “His name is Zack Burwell. He went to school here twenty years ago.”
I didn’t add that only a few hours earlier he had announced, “The last thing I need is to start drinking over this tragedy again. I’ve been sober seven years, four months, and three days. I can’t risk my sobriety over this. I can’t.”
But by returning to Oriole Point, Zack had risked his sobriety. And I feared the murder of Sienna Katsaros was to blame.
Chapter 14
“Give me that statue.” Piper reached for the little tiki god I held. “I want to smack the next drunken fool over the head with it.”
“No way.” I clutched it closer.
“Then I need to find Lionel so we can leave. I refuse to watch this tropical frat party any longer.” She pointed at Zack. “And call EMS if he continues to drink. He’ll probably be tonight’s first case of alcohol poisoning. But not the last.” Piper wasn’t totally heartless, however. She pulled a print scarf from a hidden pocket in her flowing dress. “He needs cleaning up. Use this. Lionel bought it for me because the color matched my dress. The poor man didn’t realize it was only a cheap batik.”
As Piper stalked off, Tess watched Zack with a worried expression. “I should grab a water bottle for him. He needs to drink something that isn’t eighty proof.”
While she went in search of water, I hurried over to where Zack now sat huddled on the grass. His friend knelt beside him.
I crouched down. The light from the tiki torches flickering over his face showed a pale, defeated man. Like Gordon Sanderling, he suddenly looked a good decade older than he actually was.
“I think you need this.” I handed Zack the scarf.
With a trembling hand, he wiped his face, then dabbed at his stained shirt. “I’m sorry,” he said in a slurred, weak voice. “I’ve been drinking.”
“Do you want to lie down in one of the Bramble cabins?” I asked.
His friend shook his head. “He needs to be out in the fresh air. And walking around.”
This seemed a signal for the two of us to carefully lift Zack off the ground. After a long, uncertain moment, he stood without our help.
“I drank too much.” Zack leaned toward me, and I fought the impulse to step back. The alcohol fumes were overpowering. “Why did I do that? I haven’t had alcohol in years. But now I’m drunk.” He turned to his friend. “Is that true? Am I drunk?”
He frowned. “I’m afraid you are.”
Zack swayed on his feet, causing me to grab his elbow to steady him. “Then I must be. Christian never lies to me. Do you lie, Marlee?”
“Only when I have to.” I looked over at the man he called Christian. I had suspected who he was the moment I saw him with Zack. “I’m Marlee Jacob. Theo Foster bakes for me at my store in town. I’m also a BAS alumni.”
“I’m Christian Naylor. The others told me about you when I arrived today.” The way he said it made me think the description hadn’t been flattering.
“I hope they told you how concerned I am about Theo. He’s been agitated and upset since Sienna’s body was found last week.”
“Are you surprised? Everyone who knew Sienna is upset.” Christian’s voice grew sharper with each word he spoke. “We thought this tragedy was over. Now it’s all been dug up again. Literally. The last thing we need is you or the police bothering us with questions again.”
“The police spoke with you today?” I asked.
“They talked to all of us this afternoon.” Zack looked outraged. “But we told them everything we knew years ago. Why are they asking us again? Did you tell the police to bother us, Marlee?” He took a shaky step toward me. “I bet it was you, Marlee. Asking us those questions at breakfast. You think you’re pretty smart. But you’re not. You may be pretty, but you’re not smart. We are, though.” He grabbed Christian’s shirt and pulled him closer. “She doesn’t know how smart we are. No one knows. No one knows anything, except us. No one.”
“Stop.” Christian shook him. “Man, why didn’t you talk to me before taking that first drink tonight? This makes everything worse. And it was already a god-awful mess.”
Zack turned an accusing face to me. “Now you’ve made Christian upset. What’s the matter with you? Isn’t it bad enough I’m drinking?” He almost fell, but Christian caught him.
“I had nothing to do with your drinking. I think Sienna’s death is to blame for that.”
Christian stared at me. The overhead string of white Christmas lights and nearby tiki torches revealed a face I might have described as handsome if not for his pained expression. But he had beautiful eyes. Their light color—probably hazel—proved a striking contrast to his dark skin. And his close-cropped hair allowed no distraction from the impact of his haunting gaze.
“I was told you found her body,” he said.
“The dog I was chasing found it. But that’s as far as my involvement goes.” I paused. “Except for Theo. Because your old school friend works for me, I feel responsible for him.”
“You’re stupid.” Zack laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Theo’s not our friend. Who wants to be Theo’s friend? Not me. Not him.” He jabbed Christian. “Are you Theo’s friend, Christian? No, you’re not. I guess you’re his only friend, Marlee. The girl who sells berries is Theo’s friend. Hey, isn’t that funny? The girl who sells berries found a buried body. I think that’s funny.” Again he treated us to his unnerving laugh.
Christian didn’t look as if he found this any funnier than I did. “I need to sober him up.”
Tess joined us, slightly out of breath. “I couldn’t find any bottled water, but I was able to get some iced water for you.” She held out a plastic cup to Zack.
“I don’t want water.” Zack closed his eyes. “I want a drink. Get me a drink.”
“Thank you.” Christian took the cup from her. “But I think coffee is the better option.”
She bit her lip. “Let me see if the staff has coffee urns in the administration cottage.”
After Tess left, Christian offered the water to Zack. “Take a sip. To wash out your mouth, if nothing else.”
“I told you, I want a drink.” Zack smacked the cup, sending it flying to the grass.
Christian swore under his breath. “You’ve had enough. If I see you anywhere near alcohol again tonight, I’ll wrestle you to the ground. And you’re in no shape to stop me.”
Zack balled up his fists, his stance and expression combative. But just when I thought things were about to get physical, Zack began to weep. Tears poured down his face as Christian pulled his friend into an embrace. The deep sorrow both men felt was as palpable as the humid summer heat. I felt I had no right to witness their shared grief.
“I should go,” I said.
Zack raised his head. “Why are you here anyway?” The spittle from his mouth sprayed me. “Christian and I have lots to talk about. Just us. Not you. You don’t know anything. Go away!” He shook himself free of Christian’s embrace.
“I’m sorry if I upset you, Zack. I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Why should tomorrow be any better than today?” Zack batted away Christian’s attempt to quiet him. “Sienna will still be dead. And I’ll still have every reason to get drunk. I will, too. Now go away!”
Before I could do as he asked, Zack shoved me. With a startled cry, I fell backward onto the grass. He’d pushed me so hard, I briefly saw stars when my head made contact with the ground. All I could think was I did not want a repeat of the concussion I’d suffered at the Strawberry Moon Bash last month. Raising myself up on my elbows, I saw Christian grab Zack by his shirt.
“Zack, have you gone crazy?” Christian looked down at me. “Are you okay?”
I fought to catch my breath. “The wind’s knocked out of me, but I don’t think I’m hurt.”
Detective Trejo suddenly appeared. “Stand back. What’s going on here?”
While I looked up at
him in amazement, I felt strong hands reach under my arms and lift me to my feet. I turned and met the worried gaze of Atticus Holt. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Why did you strike this woman?” Trejo’s expression was even more severe than usual. If I had been Zack, it would have given me pause. But Zack was too drunk to notice or care.
“Leave me alone!” Zack said as he tried to walk away.
Trejo pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Stop right there.”
Christian grabbed his friend. “Stop, Zack, before you get yourself arrested.”
“You can’t blame him,” I said. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“That’s no excuse for him to lay his hands on you.” Holt gently pushed me behind him.
“He fell off the wagon tonight.” Christian gripped Zack’s arm so he couldn’t leave. “Zack has had a serious drinking problem for years, but we thought he had it under control.”
“I am in control.” Zack yanked free of Christian.
Trejo spun Zack around and had him in cuffs so quickly it seemed like a magic trick. Zack began to curse and struggle. This was getting worse by the minute.
“Is this necessary?” I asked the police officers. “He didn’t hurt me. And you can see he’s drunk.”
“Drunk and disorderly.” Trejo grabbed Zack’s upper arm. His grip must have been steel-like because Zack winced. He also stopped struggling. “We can arrest him for that.”
Holt turned to Christian. “When we questioned you and your friends this afternoon, everyone assured us there was no problem. Now one of you is drunk and physically attacking a woman.”
“I didn’t attack anyone!” Zack shouted as Christian stared at the ground in dismay.
“Keep it down,” Holt warned.
“I told Marlee to go away,” Zack continued. “We didn’t want to talk to her about Sienna.”
“You spoke about Sienna Katsaros?” Trejo looked over at me.
“I only mentioned how upset Theo’s been since I found her body.”
“We don’t care about Theo,” Zack spat. “He’s nothing to us. And he was nothing to Sienna. Why is he upset about her? She was our friend, not his. Sienna belonged to us. Not some simpleminded sneak.”
“Why do you say Theo Foster is a sneak?” Holt asked.
“Could we get some coffee into him before this continues?” Christian asked in obvious exasperation. “He needs to be sober during any questioning. And have a lawyer present. Zack doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Stop talking about me.” Although his hands were still cuffed behind him, Zack tried to pull his arms free. “Leave me alone. Everyone leave me alone.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dawn and Joel run toward us from the direction of the bayou. “What are you doing to Zack?” Dawn cried. “What’s happening?”
Dawn took Zack’s face in her hands as Joel pulled Christian aside. “What have they done to you?” she asked. “Are you hurt? Why are you in handcuffs?”
“Mr. Burwell knocked Ms. Jacob to the ground,” Trejo said.
I now wished I had never gone near any of them. Until I set eyes on Zack tonight, I had been enjoying the luau.
She turned her angry attention to me. “You must have said something to upset him.”
“Not really.” I regarded Zack with pity. “He had too much to drink and was sick. I tried to help him.”
“I’m sure you were bothering him with more questions. It’s hard enough for us to be back at BAS, especially with the news about Sienna. We don’t need you interrogating us.” Dawn glared at the two uniformed officers. “And we don’t need you calling the police on us, either.”
“I did no such thing.”
“We saw a clearly inebriated Mr. Burwell become physically ill,” Holt said. “Marlee approached him in what appeared to be an attempt to offer assistance.”
“Mr. Burwell grew agitated with Ms. Jacob.” Trejo glanced at Holt as if to remind him not to call me Marlee when involved in official police business. “He proceeded to shove her to the ground. That is physical assault. Should she wish to press charges, she has every right.”
Joel looked up from his whispered conversation with Christian. “You aren’t going to arrest him?” He seemed as upset as Zack. “You can’t.”
“We can,” Holt replied. “If Ms. Jacob wants to file a complaint.”
All eyes turned to me. “I’m not going to file a complaint or press charges. He didn’t hurt me. But I do want him to get help.” I glanced over at Holt. “Unless you think he would be better off in the drunk tank for the night. You could at least keep an eye on him there.”
Dawn shook her head at me. “This poor man is an alcoholic. He’s sick. And you want to put him in jail? What kind of heartless monster are you?”
“That’s enough,” Holt said in a voice severe enough to rival that of Detective Trejo. “Your friend has been drunk and disorderly. We are within our rights to haul him in for that alone. I suggest you leave Ms. Jacob out of it.”
Dawn stared at me as the torch light cast flickering shadows along the angular outline of her face. For a startling moment, her visage appeared skull-like. “I see how it is in this town,” she said. “You all protect each other. But outsiders like Zack and Sienna are left to fend for themselves.”
“Stop!” Zack wailed. “I don’t want to hear about Sienna. And take these handcuffs off. I’m going to be sick.” A second after this announcement, Zack was once more physically ill. His friends crowded around him, rubbing his shoulders and patting his back.
“Please let him go,” I said to Holt. “I don’t think he’s likely to hurt anyone but himself.”
He took a deep breath, then nodded at Trejo.
“If you’re really his friends, you’ll sober him up.” Trejo removed the handcuffs from Zack, who rubbed at his wrists as if he had been restrained hours rather than minutes. “And the police will need to question all of you again tomorrow.”
Christian and Joel groaned, while Dawn put an arm around Zack’s shoulders. “Fine,” she said defiantly. “But only if we have a lawyer present.”
“Bring ten lawyers with you, but there are facts about the case I suspect all of you are keeping from the police.” Trejo scanned the group. “And one of you seems to be missing.”
“Leah,” I murmured to Holt.
Despite how softly I spoke, Dawn heard me. “Your little snitch Marlee is right.”
“Excuse me. I simply told them who in your group wasn’t here.”
Dawn ignored me. “Last time I saw Leah she was speaking with Gordon.”
“Gordon is at the bayou tonight?” I asked.
“What’s it to you if he is?” Joel said to me with a snarl.
“Leave Gordo alone,” Zack said. “Leave all of us alone.” He waved drunkenly at the police and me. “Go away!”
Trejo grabbed Zack’s arm. “Ms. Jacob, where can we get some coffee into him?”
“Try the administration cottage. The staff might have coffee urns in the office.”
“Let’s go.” Trejo pulled Zack along with him as he marched in the direction of the cottage. Dawn and Christian hurried after them, but Joel hesitated.
“You’re making everything worse,” he told Holt and me.
“How?” Holt asked. “We’re trying to discover what happened to your friend Sienna. If you want to prevent the police from doing that, we have to assume there’s a reason behind it. An incriminating one.”
Joel sighed. “Did it ever occur to you that we all went through so much hell when she disappeared, we can’t stand to go through it again.”
Holt was unmoved. “Don’t you want to know who killed Sienna?”
“Not really.” He gave a bitter laugh. “That sounds incriminating, but I don’t frigging care. Maybe it was a stranger who killed her. But maybe it was someone we knew. I mean, how much worse can this whole thing get?”
With a muttered curse, Joel
took off at a slight jog after his friends.
Holt turned to me. “I’m afraid this situation can get a whole lot worse.”
“I agree. And he knows it, too.”
“Is that your new talisman?” He looked down at the little tiki statue I held. Even when shoved to the ground, I had somehow kept my hold on it.
I grinned. “It’s the tiki trophy I won for doing the limbo.”
“I watched the contest. Most impressive. Although you may have had an advantage. The other contestants looked about as drunk as Mr. Burwell.”
“Please don’t throw aspersions on my victory. Being drunk is an advantage in going under the limbo pole. Anyway, I’m glad I won. The BAS woodworking students made all the tikis for the event.” I held out the six-inch wooden statue. “Aren’t these the sweetest carved blackberries you’ve ever seen? They hand painted it, too. It’s a work of art.”
Holt traced one of the carved blackberries with his finger. “A work of art covered in berries. Don’t imagine it gets any better for you.”
“Until the scene with Zack, the night was wonderful.” I waved my hand in front of my face. “Except for the mosquitoes.”
“It may not have been smart to show a lot of skin this close to a bayou. Not that I’m complaining.” His smile deepened, and his expression revealed how approving he was of my blue bikini and snug little sarong skirt.
I had deliberately gone for broke tonight, choosing a sexy little tropical outfit. I also took extra care to arrange flowers strategically in my long wavy hair, which spilled about my shoulders and down my back. Wearing my hair down made me warmer than I needed to be, but the plan was to hold Ryan’s attention longer than twenty minutes. For a while it had worked, no doubt due to my wriggling under the limbo pole. Then his cousins and Diego’s barbecued ribs intervened. At least my tropical seduction efforts hadn’t been a total bust. Atticus Holt regarded me with far more than approval. There was a hearty dose of lust in that gaze, making me feel guilty and grateful. Still, it’s never fun when your boyfriend deserts you for pork and hot sauce.
I slapped at a mosquito on my arm. “How long have you and Detective Trejo been here? I didn’t know you were at the luau until Zack pushed me. Where were you two hiding?”
Blackberry Burial Page 17
