Janine Marie - Rigging a Murder 01 - The Single Shoe Mystery by Janine Marie Read Free Book Online

plus I gather she is used to the staff and other guests walking around and usually sleeps late.”
    “So she knew nothing of her husband’s death?” I asked.
    “No” was the quiet answer.
    “Did you tell her?” I finally had the courage to ask after a long pause.
    “Well, sort of.” She paused again. “I told her that there had been an accident and that Lorenzo, her husband, had been badly hurt.” An even longer pause followed.
    “And, well, it didn’t seem to phase her!” Steph looked around at all of us with a very perplexed look, and then continued with her story. It went as follows:
    “Believe it or not, she asked—no, asked isn’t the right word—she demanded to see John.”
    “John? John Blackwood?” I clarified.
    “Yes, John Blackwood,” continued Stephanie. “Then, when I said I didn’t know, she, Catherine, yelled at me, ‘Where is he? I need him!’” Steph shook her head as she relived the conversation. “‘Okay, okay,’ I answered Catherine, ‘I will go and look for him.’ So I left her and went in search of the Blackwoods’ cabin. It wasn’t hard to find as they were the only guests on the yacht, but it was empty! I looked in the closets, drawers, head—everything was gone, and they had left! Believe me, I wasn’t keen on going back to Catherine with that news. So I went down to find one of you to help me, but Janeva was in deep conversation with the young cook, Greg was still with Lorenzo and he told me about his death, Thomas, I didn’t know where you were, and as I went back up to the main deck to start looking for you, I heard Catherine calling for John over and over again, so I took a deep breath and went into her cabin. She was propped up on the pillows in her bed, using all of them, including Lorenzo’s. I realized then that I had to tell her, so taking a deep breath I just straight out told her that her husband was dead and John and Stella had left and that I didn’t know where or when but all their stuff was missing.
    “Catherine started to cry, a quiet, sad cry, and grabbed her legs and rolled up into a ball. I didn’t know what to do and was about to go for Greg, knowing he would know, when she quietly asked me for a glass of water. I went to the galley and found a bottle of water. It was only after I had handed it to her and she had spun the top off and taken a big drink that I realized she had taken more sleeping pills. Fortunately for me, Greg arrived at Catherine’s doorway a minute later,” she continued with a faint smile. “He checked her pulse and other vitals, concluding that she had only taken two and was just going to have to sleep it off.” Steph then took a deep breath herself and looked much better, as if getting her story out of the way had taken a load off her.
    Thomas told us about the calls with the Canadian Coast Guard and police. Then it was Greg’s turn. His account was rather graphic though fortunately very medical; the technical terminology made it difficult for me to follow, much less Katie. I really didn’t want her visualizing the gruesome murder. After several attempts to spell complicated medical words I handed the notepad over to Steph.
    “Can you take over? I’m a terrible speller even with normal words, plus doctor-speak is way out of my league,” I said, smiling apologetically. “Plus, you are the writer here, so why am I doing this anyway?” I teased, as I handed the pad and pencil to Steph.
    “And I’m hungry,” announced Katie, who was always hungry these days and growing like a weed. She was already only a few inches shorter than me.
    “No need to go back to your boat, there is plenty of food in ours. We could all use a snack,” Steph replied with a smile.
    As Katie and I stood to walk the few feet to the galley I happen to look out in time to see Trent’s boat pass us, going back to the dock.
    “What’s he doing back? I guess we better go and grab some lines; we know his wife isn’t one for jumping off the