“I’m still working on that,” I said. “I need a direct link to what he’s up to. If he’s taking the money, there will be a trail, paper or electronic records that show he’s stealing. We just need to find it.”

  “We need to do snooping and some cooking,” said Helen, as she rubbed her hands together. “My two favorite things.”

  I woke James up once we got back to the house and he staggered out of the car, running his hands through his hair as he did so. “Time for more wine?”

  “We’ll have to postpone the wine tasting,” I said.

  “Such a pity. You sure I can’t tempt you both?” James gave us a drunken smile.

  “Another time.”

  “Thanks for today, though,” said Helen. “The wine was lovely.”

  He gave us a cheery wave before staggering off into the house. Hopefully, he would sleep off his liquid lunch.

  “What now?” asked Helen, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

  “We check out Marcus’s room,” I said. “He told me he has a room on the top floor. Let’s find out what he’s doing with the vineyard’s money. And now’s the perfect time. He’s still out with Taylor.”

  Hurrying into the house, we dashed up the stairs to the top floor. After checking several rooms and finding a bathroom, storage room, and guest room, we came to the final door. I did a quick check along the corridor, but there was no one around, so I eased open the door and looked inside.

  The double bed was immaculately made, not a wrinkle on the sheets. The pillows looked brand-new. The dressing table had a neat row of cosmetics on one side, looking like they’d been lined up using a ruler.

  “This has to be his room.” We all hurried in. I shut the door behind us, stationing Flipper by it to alert us if anyone came up the stairs.

  “This place is like a showroom,” whispered Helen. “You sure Marcus is human? I’ve never seen a man leave the bedroom so tidy.”

  I looked down at the neatly arranged black slippers by the end of the bed. “He’s a neat freak.”

  “Even I’m finding this level of neatness creepy,” said Helen. “And I like everything tidy.”

  I had a quick look around the room. There was a desk in one corner and a filing cabinet next to it. Looked like the perfect place to start. “You check his dresser. I’ll look over here.”

  “I’m afraid to touch anything,” said Helen. “Bet he dusts for fingerprints every night. We’ll have to make sure we don’t leave incriminating evidence. If he finds one of my blonde hairs in here, I’ll get in trouble.”

  “You won’t have to worry about that for long if he’s involved in Blake’s death and stealing his money,” I said, as I opened the filing cabinet. “He’ll be behind bars before he can tell you off for shedding hair.”

  Inside the filing cabinet were neatly labeled files from A to Z. I had to admit, I admired his system as I pulled out the banking file and skimmed through it. Everything was in date order in its own separate plastic folder. Looking through the paperwork, I couldn’t spot anything incriminating, no strange sums of money going into his personal account. I checked a few more files, but there was nothing.

  I placed the files back, making sure everything was lined up before closing the cabinet. I turned and looked at Helen. “You got anything useful over there?”

  “Can’t find anything,” said Helen. “Looks like Marcus irons his pants, though.”

  “You’re not supposed to be looking at his underwear,” I said. “If he catches you, he’ll think you’re a pervert.”

  “Any man who irons his Y-fronts has got suspicious stamped all over him. Who has the time to do that? Even I don’t iron my knickers!”

  “Your standards are slipping.”

  “My standards are perfect,” said Helen. “Ironed Y-fronts are not normal. Marcus has to be guilty.”

  I jumped as Flipper whined. Dillon had appeared next to him, his tongue hanging out, seeming pleased at having discovered us.

  “Now is not a good time, Dillon,” I said to him. “You don’t want to distract Flipper. He’s acting as our guard.”

  “We’ve got company?” asked Helen. “Is Blake here, as well?”

  “Just Dillon.”

  “But if he’s still around, it suggests Blake is too,” said Helen. “And since they are here, they must think Honey isn’t involved in their deaths.”

  “Or Dillon is a confused ghost dog,” I said. “I don’t know if he even realizes he’s dead.”

  Flipper pawed at the ground and turned in a circle, his miserable gaze on Dillon.

  “We need to hurry,” I said. “Don’t want Flipper getting sick in here. That would be impossible to cover up.”

  “I’ll check the closet,” said Helen. “You look in the chest of drawers.”

  We spent a couple of fruitless minutes hunting through Marcus’s tidy drawers, coming out empty-handed.

  Flipper whined again. We were out of time. “Maybe he keeps nothing in here. It might be too risky for him to have evidence in the house in case someone finds it and realizes what he’s doing.”

  “Lack of evidence doesn’t mean he’s innocent, though,” said Helen.

  Flipper gave another whine before running away from Dillon and leaping onto Marcus’s bed.

  “Get down from there!” I said to him. “If you crumple the sheets, we’ll get rumbled.”

  Flipper turned in a circle before laying on the duvet and giving me a sad-eyed stare.

  “You can sleep in your own bed once we’ve finished searching.”

  Dillon raced across the room and joined Flipper on the bed, bouncing up and down beside him.

  “That’s not helping,” I said to Dillon. I hurried over to Flipper and caught hold of his collar. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you out of here.”

  As Flipper reluctantly shuffled to the edge of the bed, I heard the faint sound of rustling paper.

  I let go of Flipper and bent down.

  “What are you looking at?” asked Helen, as she hurried around the bed and joined me.

  “Not certain.” I eased my hand under the mattress and felt along the base. My fingers brushed some paper and my heartrate increased. “I have a feeling Marcus is old school when it comes to hiding evidence.”

  “There’s something under the mattress?” Helen ducked down and peered under it. “It had better not be smutty magazines.”

  I pulled out several sheets of paper, my eyes widening when I saw the financial transactions on them. I looked through the details of the money going into a Swiss bank account in the name of J.M. Smithe. “This is it! This is what we need to show that Marcus is stealing from the company. He set up an account in a false name and is filtering business funds into it.”

  “He killed Blake to avoid being discovered?” asked Helen.

  “That must be it,” I said.

  “Now we know his motive, what about Taylor?”

  I tapped my fingers on my chin. “Not sure. But at least we’ve got Marcus. He might talk when he realizes we’re onto him.”

  “And we’ve got what we need to show Honey is not involved.”

  I nodded. “Your dinner will get everyone together. We can find out what’s going on between Marcus and Taylor and prove to everyone that Honey is innocent.”

  Chapter 22

  “A dinner sounds lovely,” said Julianne. “It will be a fun way to welcome Charlie to the household.”

  “I’m always up for a party,” said James, who lounged on the sofa by the window in Julianne’s office, supposedly reading the latest business plan Julianne had put together.

  It was the evening after our discovery of the J.M. Smithe paperwork, and our plan to reveal the real killers was underway.

  “I was thinking Friday night,” I said. “Helen is an excellent cook and has agreed to do the food for us.”

  “And we should have it on the yacht,” said James.

  I grinned at him. It was as if he’d read my mind.

  Julianne’s smile faded. “Must we?”

  I put on my best sympathetic face. “From what I hear, Blake spent some of his happiest days on that yacht.”

  “He’d think it was a hoot we were welcoming a new dog into the family on there,” said James. “He’d want the party on The Orwell.”

  Julianne pulled her shoulders back. “You’re right. No good dwelling on the bad things that happened. Let’s have the dinner. And I look forward to Helen’s cooking.”

  “And the wine,” said James. “I will organize that.”

  “I should hope you can,” said Julianne dryly, “considering you’re part owner of the vineyard.”

  James chortled. “Always a pleasure to serve.”

  “Shall we say seven o’clock?” I suggested. “And since we’re celebrating Charlie’s arrival, I thought we could invite Taylor as well.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Julianne. “She always has fun stories about training her animals. And she’ll be a big part of Charlie’s life, so it’s only right she’s there.”

  Everything was almost in place. I left Julianne and James to discuss business and hurried to the kitchen to find Helen beginning preparations for our evening meal. “You need to get out your cookbooks.”

  “Did Julianne agree to the dinner party?” Helen’s eyes brightened.

  “She did.”

  Helen let out a squeak. “There are so many recipes I want to try.”

  I dug out the card Taylor gave me and sent her a message inviting her to the dinner. “Need to make sure our dog training suspect can come.”

  “What if she refuses?” Helen’s smile slipped. “She could feel weird about going back to the scene of the crime.”

  “It would be stranger if she didn’t turn up. She needs to act like everything is normal.” My mobile pinged and I grinned as I checked the message. “Taylor would love to come.”

  Helen clapped her hands together. “Time for me to create a fabulous dinner.”

  “And time for us to catch the killers.”

  ***

  I couldn’t hide my nerves as I made my way to the yacht. It was the evening of the dinner and everyone would be there. Marcus, Taylor, Channing, James, and Julianne, along with Helen and me.

  I’d done nothing like this before. It felt very Miss Marple, bringing everyone together to do a big reveal. I was out of my depth. What if I was making a mistake? What if this had been an accident and I was making up the whole thing? J.M. Smithe could be a legitimate business. Blake might even have asked Marcus to set it up, and he was only following his late boss’s orders. Taylor might not have trained Dillon to kill Blake and had simply been showing Marcus a neat doggy trick. If that was true, I’d lose my job and get a terrible reference. It would ruin my career.

  But the evidence from the accounts was convincing. Marcus had been stealing from the company. Perhaps Taylor had discovered what he was up to and insisted on getting a cut. Whatever had gone on, tonight would reveal it all. Or I would end up looking very foolish.

  I climbed on board The Orwell and headed below deck, the tempting smells of tarragon, parsley, butter, and skate drawing me to the kitchen.

  Helen was in full-on cooking mode, with a white apron tied around her middle and her hair pulled off her face with a black headscarf. Several pots sat on the stove and the oven belted out heat.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “Don’t you come near any of this.” Helen glared at me. “I’ve tried your cooking. Don’t want you to jinx tonight’s meal.”

  “How’s the sea sickness?”

  “You know, I’ve not thought about it. Maybe keeping busy is the answer. I’ve been so distracted by the food that I haven’t noticed the sway of the boat under my feet.” Her cheeks grew pale. “Until you just mentioned it.”

  I grinned at her. “I’ll set the table.”

  “Yes. Keep out of here until everything is ready. Then you can help me to serve.”

  I gathered up the cutlery. “Everyone will be here in the next twenty minutes.”

  Helen squeaked. “There’s still so much to do.”

  “It smells amazing. Everyone will love your food. And that’s not the thing we need to be worried about. I’m about to uncover two killers to our boss.”

  “It’s the thing I need to worry about,” said Helen. “You’re the one who will do the fabulous revelation about Blake’s murder.”

  My stomach roiled at the thought. “This wasn’t such a great idea.”

  Helen slowed her manic whisking. “You worried?”

  I nodded. “What if Julianne doesn’t believe me?”

  “Why wouldn’t she? Marcus and Taylor did this. We both saw the paperwork showing Marcus is stealing. And you saw Taylor teaching doggy tricks that could end in murder. What does your gut tell you?”

  I glanced around the kitchen. “That at least the food will be amazing.”

  Helen flapped a dishcloth at me. “Get out of here before I make a mistake. Go make the table look lovely and wait for everyone to arrive. This evening will be perfect for everyone, apart from Marcus and Taylor. And they deserve it.”

  “Yes, boss.” I left her to her final preparations and walked to the top deck where we had arranged a table. I laid it with a white linen tablecloth, matching plates, and shining silver cutlery. I was just setting the glasses when James strolled up the steps, carrying several bottles of wine.

  He grinned when he saw me. “Thought you might like to get these chilled before everyone arrives.”

  I grabbed two bottles from his hands. “Thanks. This will go perfectly with the fish.”

  “Fish, again!” said James. “Anyone would think we live by the sea.”

  “Too true.” My laugh sounded too loud and fake and my hands shook as I set the bottles down.

  “Is everything okay?” asked James. “You seem a little on edge.”

  “I just want to make sure tonight goes well.”

  “Don’t get anxious about a party for a puppy. The poor thing won’t have a clue what’s going on.”

  “I hope he does. Helen’s even made him his own dog friendly cake. I hate to think what’s inside, but make sure to avoid the cake with the dog paw iced on top.”

  “Good tip. The party will be just perfect.” James glanced around the deck. “Shall I get the wine open?”

  I nodded and took a calming breath as I looked out over the marina. The water was still and the sun was lowering toward the horizon. We had a good hour until dusk, and there were lights dotted around the deck, so we could stay out until it got too cold. That gave me plenty of time to reveal my theory about Taylor and Marcus.

  “And you’re sure everything is okay?” asked James, as he uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

  “Everything is perfect,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, nothing.” James glanced down at my hands.

  I realized I was gripping the railings so hard my knuckles were white. I let go and shook out my fingers. “I’ll take that glass of wine if it’s for me.”

  “Perfect way to loosen up.” He handed me a glass, and I took a large sip.

  Flipper jumped to his feet and stared behind James. Blake and Dillon popped into view and hovered by the steps.

  James shivered. “Hope this breeze doesn’t get any worse. Might have to take things below deck if it does.”

  I discreetly gestured to Dillon and Blake to move away from James. But I was glad they were there. Blake needed to see how Taylor and Marcus reacted to my accusations, and I wanted to know what his thoughts were on their involvement in his death.

  “I can see the others,” said James, pointing toward the marina car park.

  I turned and saw Julianne and Marcus leading the way, Channing behind them. They boarded the yacht. James did an excellent job of making sure everyone had plenty to drink.

  Helen rushed up the steps with a tray of hors d’oeuvres and thrust them in my hand. “Pass these around. First course will be ready in ten minutes.”

  I did as I was told, keeping an eye on Dillon and Blake to make sure they behaved themselves. But they seemed content watching people as they mingled and chatted.

  Julianne had Charlie in her arms, a smart red collar around his neck. He squirmed as he spotted Flipper and barked, trying to get free so they could play.

  Flipper narrowed his eyes and tucked his tail away. Looked like he wasn’t keen on having it used as a plaything again. Can’t say I blamed him.

  “I’m not letting this one go,” said Julianne, as I stopped in front of her with the tray of hors d’oeuvres. “He’s so tiny, he’ll slip straight through the railings.” Her gaze shifted to the side of the yacht. “And I can’t bear to think of losing him in that way.”

  Channing patted her arm. “We’re here to celebrate Charlie’s inclusion in our family. It’s a time to be happy.”

  Julianne’s chin wobbled, but she nodded. Her gaze appeared to rest on the exact spot Dillon and Blake were standing. “Hopefully, they’re looking down on us, watching us have a nice time.”

  “I’m sure they are.” I turned as I heard running feet and was relieved to see Taylor climbing onto the yacht, Brutus at her heel.

  “Hope I’m not late,” she said. “One of the dogs escaped. I had to get him back before I could leave.” She brushed a piece of fur off her black trousers. “Didn’t even have time to change. Hope I don’t look too much of a mess. Dog fur gets on everything.”

  “You look great,” I said to her. “And thanks for coming. I know it was last minute, but it wouldn’t have been right you not being here, given we’re celebrating Charlie.” I offered her some hors d’oeuvres and tried to sound as friendly as possible, while all the time, the word murderer kept skating through my thoughts.

  She grabbed several pastries from the tray. “These smell lovely. And I’m starving. No time for lunch today, but I wanted to save my appetite for tonight.”

  Helen emerged from below deck, her hair now neatly curled and her lipstick immaculate. Only Helen could pull off a three-course meal for half a dozen people and come out looking like she’s just spent the day in the spa. “If everyone would like to take their seats, the first course will be served shortly.” She cast me a meaningful look. I guessed it meant I was helping serve.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17