The Name of the Rose Water Spritzer

by Emily Selby

  A bead of cold sweat rolled down heather's temple. She gulped. Her pulse was throbbing somewhere in at the back of her throat, and in her head.

  She slipped the phone back to her pocket and reached into the bucket.

  "Get off my boat, woman, or I'll call the police!"

  "That'd be actually awesome, Jon. Can you call the police," Josephine's alto voice broke into a high-pitched shriek. "Police, Police. Come and arrest me," she screamed.

  Heather pulled the gloves from the bucket and slipped them on.

  "You're obviously out of you mind, woman. I'll help you off the boat back onto the dock."

  "Don't you dare touch me," Josephine shouted, at the same pitch and volume.

  Heather grabbed the fishing pole.

  "Is this how you got rid of your wife? Oh, no, you've electrocuted her. Used a live wire again... Put a wire in the water, connected it to something... You've always been a smart boy, and you always understood how electricity works. So, what did you do to her?"

  A man’s heavy breathing reached Heather’s ears.

  "Don't you dare touch me-"

  Josephine's voice trailed off, breaking into a wheeze. Something hit the bulkhead forming the cabin wall. The door made another grouching noise, as though in sympathy.

  Heather jumped forward, ran up the steps and pushed the door forward with all her might.

  The door burst open, the broken hinge gave way. With Heather’s weight behind it, it smacked into the man. He was large but off his balance with the combined force of the weight of the door and Heather behind it. He staggered, lost his footing, slipped and fell backwards. His head hit the edge of the cockpit table with a crack. He flopped over on the muddy pile of ropes.

  Heather braced herself, grasping the pole like a spear.

  The man moaned.

  Still alive and still a threat.

  Heather stood over him, digging the tip of the rod into his chest.

  A large, red drop appeared on the man's left temple.

  Head injury?

  The man blinked, confusion filling his broad face. Heather tensed.

  "And who are you?" he croaked. "I've seen you somewhere."

  "A friend of your old enemy, so basically, an enemy, too," Heather said as calmly as she could.

  Playing for time was her only strategy.

  Surely, someone in the quayside must have noticed the ruckus and would call for help? Where was Josephine and what was she doing? Did her silence mean she was injured or... worse?

  From the corner of her eye, Heather caught sight of her roommate – leaning against the side of the cockpit, her hand to her throat.

  Alive!

  "Josephine, I've called the police, but give them another ring, will you?" Heather shouted.

  Josephine shook her head and opened her hands to show she didn't have a cell on her.

  Gee whiz!

  "Yeah, will do it right away," Josephine replied, her voice a little shaky.

  Heather turned toward the fallen man. He still seemed groggy on the floor. "But first, I'd love to know what you were doing on the beach that night when your wife died, because I saw you," she carried on, her voice suddenly growing stronger.

  The man's face paled, but his neck was red and so puffed, it looked like it was about to explode. As tall as Josephine, but much larger than her, and obviously stronger since he had already tackled her. It must have been the knock on the head and the confusion caused by it that had given Heather the advantage, despite her meagre five foot one. If he regained his feet, she stood no chance.

  She needed to find a way to keep him off balance. She pushed the pole further into his neck.

  Blooming Josephine and her reluctance to carry a phone!

  "Hey, Josephine, I think Inspector Mathews is calling. I can feel my cell vibrating in my pocket. Can you answer, please? Bit busy here," Heather said.

  Please, do it woman!

  Shuffling from behind confirmed that Josephine had finally got the message.

  Please, read my mind ...

  Josephine plucked the phone from Heather's jacket pocket.

  "Oh, he's texted you he's on his way," Josephine replied.

  Shoots!

  Was she bluffing, or telling the truth?

  Jon Waters blinked and shook his head. He lifted himself on his elbow.

  Heather shifted the tip of the fishing pole to his throat, a little above the sternum.

  "Just on the right spot," she said, forcing her voice to keep steady. "It'll go in like a hot knife through butter."

  He held her stare and lifted himself on his elbows.

  Heather gripped the pole tighter, leaning all her weight onto it. The tip dipped into the man's flesh. He backed off.

  "Get that off me, woman!" he growled.

  "Or what?" Heather replied. Her shoulders were beginning to tremble. She'd never harmed anyone in her life. "Will you force me to use this electrified fishing pole, as you did with your wife?"

  "I didn't force her. She happily agreed."

  "Yeah, right. Did she know there was a live wire inside? So, her fingerprints will be on the rod, right?" Heather went on. She had to keep the conversation going. Thank goodness, her brain was on fire again.

  "I've wiped it, you stupid girl. I've wiped everything nicely."

  "You did a good job. I bet you handled the paint pots and the possum poison, with these gloves?" Heather jerked her chin pointing at the gloves she was wearing.

  "Aha!" He bared his teeth. "Now, get off me." He heaved himself to a sitting position. Heather leant on the pole, but Jon Waters grabbed it and whipped it away.

  Heather wobbled. The pole fell out of her grip and hit the deck.

  The man jumped to his feet. He clasped his large hand on Heather's arm and shoved her against the cabin bulkhead.

  Heather's stomach clenched. Her pulse was racing. She gulped a breath.

  The man's face was large and bright red right in front of her. Beads of sweat glistened on his upper lip. The blood was trickling down his face. His nostrils flared.

  A raging bull.

  His free hand reached towards her throat. She closed her eyes.

  "You thought you've got me, you b-"

  "Jon Waters, step away," a familiar male voice interrupted. "It's the police and I'm armed."

  16

  What happened next was a bit of a blur for Heather.

  James must have got Jon Waters off the boat. Probably without much hassle. A few people, no doubt, attracted by the commotion, had gathered at the jetty by then. The police van arrived, somewhere in the distance, Jon yelled for a phone to call a lawyer. Finally, the marina master offered Heather and Josephine a cup of tea.

  Once Jon Waters, plus a pair of handcuffs, was carted off to a quiet place in Whangarei police station, James and one of the local police officers took short statements from Heather and Josephine.

  They all sat in the tiny office of the marina's master: it was cold and smelling of damp, but at least, dry. Strangely, James made no comments about their strategy, but his eyes were throwing daggers. Heather was dying to ask for explanations how he ended up at the dock and what was going to happen to Jon Waters, but she didn't want to question him with the other policeman around.

  "I'll come back for more information," James said, closing the interview and heading for the door.

  "When?" Heather demanded.

  "As soon as I can," he replied. "Get yourselves to see the doctor." He shook his head at them and left the room.

  Heather drove them to the doctor’s to make sure they were both okay.

  They were.

  Back in the café, after a few more cups of tea on board, Josephine excused herself and left to lie down. Heather opened the fridge.

  It was time for a nice drink. And something stronger than tea.

  She put the lemon and blood orange juice on the table and reached for the bottle of vodka.

  A scratching at the door interrupted her deliberations over
how much alcohol she should add to her cocktail.

  "You're back, little kitty," Heather said and opened the door.

  The black cat strode in and meowed.

  "Good to see you too," Heather replied.

  "Is it Kea?" Josephine's head appeared in the gap between the door her sleep-out and its frame.

  Heather's eyebrows shot up, but, true to her earlier decision, she made no comments.

  Just smiled inwardly.

  "Yes, it's our little Kea," she said and beckoned the cat. "Go to Josephine, she needs a cuddle."

  Surprisingly, the cat trotted in the indicated direction.

  "Thanks, Heather," Josephine mumbled. They both disappeared inside the sleep-out.

  Heather grabbed a jar of honey and the bottle of rose water from the pantry. All she needed next was some sparkling water, a long glass, and a straw. She opened the fridge again.

  Her phone vibrated.

  She'd forgotten to un-mute it.

  Heather crossed to the table.

  It was James!

  "Hey, Heather, how are you?" he asked when she answered.

  "Both okay. Josephine's lying down, and I'm mixing myself a drink."

  "Um..." he released a breath. There was a note of ... longing in his voice. "Sadly, I can't join you now, but once I'm off duty..."

  Heather pricked her ears. "So, you've been on duty? Since when?"

  "Since when I..." his voice faded into a chuckle. "It's complicated, but I'm back on the case."

  "That's great," Heather exclaimed. "How much of my conversation with Waters did you hear?"

  "All the necessary bits. The admission he made Rose hold the rod, and that he wiped the paint pots and gloves of fingerprints."

  "Cool," Heather released her breath. "I'd hate to think he might be able to wiggle out of any charges, just because his alibi is rock solid."

  "We'll take care of that."

  "Has he started to sing, as they say in books and movies?"

  "Is it what they call it?" A further note of amusement appeared in his voice. "Anyhow, he's quite a mess. The rod has indeed been tampered with, and it's likely he fed a live wire through the middle of it. We're not sure exactly how he connected it to a power source, but he's admitted to killing his wife."

  "Why did he do it, though? Were we right?"

  "Yes, you were. Once we'd changed the status from a suspicious death to a murder and started re-interviewing witnesses, some of them changed their song – if I may use the same figure of speech."

  "His fishing friends?"

  "Yes. One of them admitted, he actually fell asleep that night, drunk. Now he’s saying he didn't see Jon Waters until the following morning."

  "So, Jon could have driven back and forth between Dargaville and Dolphin Cove?"

  "He did. We've tracked down his rental car. He hired it under the name of his cousin, who was on a drinking binge back in Canterbury, with many people confirming that."

  "Clever," Heather gasped. "That'll be another charge, right?"

  "Yes. As will be the assault on Josephine and you. I'm really glad to hear you're both okay."

  "So am I. He must have planned to kill Rose for a while?"

  "Probably. I think he organized the fishing trip up north with the specific aim of killing his wife. You were right, people back home have started talking about the old case from fifty years ago."

  "That was Josephine," Heather corrected.

  Give the credit where it's due...

  "I must admit, she did an awesome job with this case. If it wasn't for her courage to face the past..." Heather paused and looked at the door to the sleep-out. It was closed. Josephine was having a well-deserved rest.

  "She did. It must have been painful for her, raking it all up, and opening the old wounds."

  "I was worried you'd consider her the main suspect, given that she had a good motive and was at the right place at the right times."

  James sighed. "Yeah, I found it hard not to jump to that conclusion, particularly when you came to talk to me on the beach. What was that whole thing about the bracelet?"

  "We were clutching at straws," Heather admitted. "But to be honest, I was desperate to get you back on the case. I had a massive hunch that it was a murder and that you, we all were missing something."

  "And you were correct," James said. "I hate to admit it," he added quickly. "I hate being wrong."

  "Don't we all?" Heather said and laughed.

  James joined her.

  "So, will he be going to jail?" she asked.

  "That's up to the court. But we've arrested him on the suspicion of Rose's murder, along with of all the other charges I mentioned earlier."

  "Good," Heather relaxed her shoulders. "Justice will be served then. But have you found out how Rose died in the end? You seemed to have an idea when we came to visit you at the beach. Why hadn't you mentioned that before?"

  "Because it wasn't clear. The M.E. has had a lot of difficulties identifying the cause of death, apart from the fibrillation. Normally, the changes that happen in the body as a result of electrocution are more visible, but he must have been very clever with the type of current he used and how. Low-voltage currents don't do that much damage to the human body. It's the end result, such a heart attack or arrhythmia that kills the victim. He must have read about that and banked on it."

  "According to Josephine, he's always been a smart boy who knew a lot about electricity. Did you hear that?"

  "Yeah. And he was also very lucky... I mean, not really, because he's been found out. But anyway, the charring on her fingertips was minimal and obviously, stained with some un-washable berry juice, which covered it well and muddied the waters."

  "I'm glad we've managed to un-muddy the waters," Heather said and chuckled. "Tee-hee... un-muddy the muddied waters. Get it?"

  'Nice pun, Miss Journalist," he said, with a note of pride in his voice. "The whole thing deserves a celebration, don't you think?"

  Heather glanced at the ingredients in front of her.

  "I'm just about to do that," she said and chuckled again. "Actually, I'm celebrating it with a glass of Rose Water Spritzer. I know, I'm funny, aren't I?"

  There was a pause at the other end of the line.

  She might have overdone it...

  "Ah, I see," James said slowly. "You're on a pun-roll. I hope you're not drunk yet?" A tone of ... concern crept into his voice.

  Heather blinked. She was an adult, at home, not doing anything illegal ... Where was he going with this?

  "No, not at all. Haven't mixed my cocktail yet, let alone drunk any. Why?"

  "Because I am planning to come around and take you out to dinner tonight," he said. "That is, if you agree," he rushed to add.

  A warm wave spread in Heather's chest.

  "To celebrate?" she asked hesitantly.

  "Sure," he replied. "But also ... Just to spend some nice time together. You can throw more puns like that, and I'll laugh out loud. Promise," he added.

  Heather leaned on the table.

  Lightheaded, like a teenage girl asked on a date for the first time.

  "Are you asking me out?"

  She had to know. For clarity.

  "Yes. So, is it a date, Heather Hampton?"

  Heather blew out a breath. At long last!

  "Oh, Inspector Matthews, I mean, James..." she said. "I accept your invitation. With pleasure."

  She closed her eyes and smiled. An evening with James Matthews. That was something to look forward to.

  Keen to know what happens next?

  Click here to grab a copy of the next book in the Career Crisis Café series: To Kill the Jungle Bird.

  Heather Hampton, a beach café owner and mixologist extraordinaire gets entangled in yet another murder mystery.

  Her friend and employee, Chrissy, flees a violent argument with her ex, only to discover the next morning that he's been stabbed and the murder weapon is in Chrissy's car. Did Chrissy kill her ex-partner? If not her, then w
ho?

  To find out who did it and catch up with Heather, Josephine, James, Kea and others in Dolphin Cove, New Zealand - grab a copy now.

  Thank you for reading

  Thank you for reading The Name of the Rose Water Spritzer I hope you enjoyed Heather’s new adventure.

  Let me and other people know what you think of the story, the characters, the mystery… by leaving a review (please, no spoilers :)).

  Click here to review the book on Amazon

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  Thank you

  Emily Selby

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  Career Crisis Café Mystery series

  The Long Island Iced Tea Goodbye - Career Crisis Café Mystery 1

  The Long Island Iced Tea Goodbye - Career Crisis Café Mystery Book 1

  Heather Hampton, a middle-aged, freshly divorced fashion journalist from Long Island, arrives in Dolphin Cove, New Zealand to start a new life as a beach café owner and a cocktail maker extraordinaire, not to battle a grumpy live-in chef-cum-baker, rescue feral kittens and find bodies and skeletons in cupboards. But when she is accused of poisoning her chef, she has no choice, but to get involved and find out what really happened.

  With the help, and sometimes against, a semi-retired police officer and a rescue kitten, Heather discovers a few secrets, makes a couple of friends and almost ends up on a date.

  But, more importantly, will she guess who the murderer is? Can you beat her to it?

  Grab a copy of The Long Island Iced Tea Goodbye to find out

  The Name of The Rose Water Spritzer - Career Crisis Café Mystery 2

  The Name of The Rose Water Spritzer - Career Crisis Café Mystery 2

  Heather and Josephine are preparing for a garden party: just a few local friends, Josephine’s finger food, Heather’s cocktails, and a little gossip. The party is ruined by rain, but there is something much more sinister happening by the new beach huts… And when the next morning Heather finds a dead body in one of the huts, the investigation begins.