“Andy’s not your killer and you know it. However, he’s in our room, and Jane is there with him.” I hoped it wasn’t a lie. They’d both been asleep when I’d left to confront Sawyer, and I’d been gone for quite a while.

  “What are the two of you doing in this area?”

  Neal held his hands in the air. “I was just following her to see what she was doing.” His voice raised several octaves with his lie.

  I clicked my tongue. “Oh, Neal.”

  Xavier cocked his left eyebrow. “Are you saying I should not believe him?”

  “If you believe him, you’re probably a terrible detective.”

  Xavier made a sound that at first, I thought was him choking, but then I realized he was attempting to suppress a laugh. “Perhaps we shall finish this conversation in my office.”

  “Wait. Xavier, I think this is where Phoebe was killed.” I shined my flashlight against the wall, illuminating the blood spatter. “Come look.”

  He didn’t move.

  “I’m telling you. I think this is blood.” I jiggled the phone, causing the light to bounce up and down on the wall.

  “I’m aware.”

  “You knew she was killed down here? You made it sound like you believed it happened near or in the hot tub.”

  “You may have gotten that impression, but it is not because I said it. I told you what I wanted you to know, and you made assumptions.”

  Neal remained silent. He wasn’t a complete dummy.

  “If you knew this was the spot, why didn’t you cordon it off? There’s still evidence on the walls that should be protected.”

  I folded my arms, which caused the flashlight to aim at my feet and thrust Neal and Xavier into the shadows. When Xavier spoke, it sounded even more ominous.

  “Outside of my team, only one person knew this was the location of the crime. The killer. And, apparently, his aunt.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It hadn’t occurred to me that my snooping to solve the case and exonerate Andy might backfire and create more problems for him…and me.

  Xavier escorted us away from the crime scene and up to his office. Officer Irving was seated at his desk, but Taylor’s was unoccupied.

  “Lonnie, will you go to suite 701 and verify Andy Cobb is where he is supposed to be?”

  Irving gave me a suspicious once-over, and left the office.

  “You two, follow me, s’il vous plait.” Xavier jerked his finger toward his office door.

  Neal waved me ahead of him, as if he were being chivalrous, not cowardly. I was pretty sure he was shaking in his beige Dockers and sensible shoes. How I hadn’t realized he was the one Egan was talking about simply from the description of bland, boring, and beige, I had no idea. His banality served as a cloak.

  I sat in one chair. Neal sat in the other. Xavier eased himself into his own chair and rotated it back and forth, looking between the two of us.

  “Who would like to go first?”

  Neal pulled at his starched white collar and stretched his neck.

  I jerked my thumb at him and made an exasperated face at Xavier. “You’re seeing this, right? It’s like he took a class on how to appear guilty.”

  The corner of Xavier’s mouth twitched. “In my experience, innocent nerves can sometimes appear as guilt.”

  I flicked my hand. Whatever.

  “You do recall, Madame McLaughlin, you are the one in the hot seat. What did your nephew reveal to you about the crime?”

  I hinged my jaw, inhaled, and growled through gritted teeth, “As I have said, and continue to say, Andy did not do this. He told me nothing because there is nothing to tell.” I punctuated my statement by slapping my palm on his desk.

  He didn’t flinch.

  “Why don’t you ask Neal about his desperate need to find Phoebe’s phone before anyone else.” I sat back in the chair, feeling ready to fight the next person who implied, indicated, inferred, or flat-out stated Andy was a murderer, and I was an accessory after the fact.

  A hint of amusement played on Xavier’s face before he redirected his attention to Neal. “Monsieur Alcorn, you are husband to one of the sisters of Phoebe, correct?”

  Neal nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Which of the sisters? Forgive me, they are so much alike. Twins, yes?”

  This got a reaction out of him. Neal leaned forward, almost looking angry. “They are nothing alike. My wife, Lily, is a saint. Ivy is rude, crass, and obnoxious.”

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Nine years this past April. We met in college, dated three years or so, got married at twenty-four.”

  “That would make Phoebe approximately fourteen when you met her sister.” Xavier tented his fingers, a gesture I’d seen him make more than once in previous interactions.

  Was this a tell, and if so, what did it signify?

  Pink began to creep up Neal’s neck. “Sounds about right.”

  “Gross,” I said. “You’ve known her since she was a child.”

  Neal’s face grew pale as he stared straight ahead.

  Xavier observed him for a moment. “Would you like some water, Monsieur Alcorn?” He pointed at the fully stocked bar in the corner.

  Strange that the head of security had alcohol in his office, but this was a private residential ship, and many of the ways the staff operated had struck me as unusual.

  Neal cleared his throat twice. “Yes, thank you.”

  Xavier handed Neal a glass and leaned against the front edge of his desk. He folded his arms and watched Neal suck down the water like a man who’d been stranded in the Sahara. After Neal finished the last sip, he handed the glass back to Xavier.

  “Thanks.”

  “De rien. Of course. Do you need a refill?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Xavier observed him again for a moment. “We are on this ship, out to sea, and sometimes it feels as though we are in a state of suspended reality here. Does it not?”

  I had no idea where he was going with this line of questioning, but I was intrigued. Beads of sweat had begun to form at Neal’s temples. Xavier had him nervous, and I was here for it.

  “I s-suppose.”

  Xavier tilted his head. He ran his tongue across perfect white teeth and made a clucking sound. “We are, in fact, an extension of the real world. You Americans, you have a saying, what happens in Las Vegas, stays in Las Vegas.”

  I stifled a giggle. “Something like that.”

  “It is a myth. You may mistakenly believe that what happens on this ship stays on this ship. That is not true. Choices always have consequences, no matter where the actions take place.”

  Neal was fully squirming now. I suppressed a squeal of glee. I was feeling chockfull of all the petty emotions I’d swallowed.

  “Regardless of the gilded adornments, the luxurious accommodations, the water and glaciers surrounding us at this moment, reality remains. Phoebe Braithwaite is still very much dead.”

  His statement landed with a thud.

  There was a difference between knowing something in your head and hearing the words out loud and then allowing the truth to pierce your heart. I’d always known denial was a powerful coping mechanism, but it took living through loss to understand it could only shield a person from grief for so long before cracks began to form and pain seeped through.

  As Xavier’s pronouncement hung in the air, my chest felt squeezed like it was in a vise. I’d been so focused on exonerating Andy; I hadn’t completely faced the reality. Phoebe was gone, killed in a brutal way. She was never coming back. She and Andy were never getting married or having the children they’d talked about. Her young life was over.

  From the agony on Neal’s face, he was also only just beginning to come to terms with the truth of what had happened. He appeared heartbroken—more heartbroken than normal for a brother-in-law.

  A sob escaped him. Xavier registered alarm and surprise.

  I put my hand on Neal’s shoulder. “He’s going to find out eventually. If you lie or hide things, he won’t believe you when you tell him you didn’t hurt Phoebe.”

  Neal buried his face in his hands. Between sniffles, he began to tell his story.

  “For years I’d seen Phoebe as Lily’s little sister. A kid. When she started her YouTube channel, I thought it was cute. We watched all her videos because we were trying to support her. I figured it would boost her confidence.”

  “Did her confidence need boosting?” I asked. “I’ve always known her to be quite strong-minded.”

  Neal dragged his hands down his face, resting his fingertips on his mouth. “She started the channel because she was lonely. Phoebe was an oops baby, and no one let her forget it. Dale and Susan didn’t have the twins until they were in their early to mid-thirties, and then Sawyer came along about four years later. They were done having kids. Or so they thought. Phoebe was conceived backstage at a Grateful Dead concert in the nineties. Susan was forty, Dale was even older. They hadn’t been super attentive to their kids prior to that, but the added burden”—he made air quotes—“of another baby made them resentful. All they ever wanted to do was party and follow their favorite bands around the world. They hired a nanny, who basically raised the kids. You can imagine the impact it might have on a kid to be told your very existence interfered with your parents living their best lives.”

  “I had no idea,” I said. “I feel awful. I always judged her harshly for being so inflexible and difficult. I thought she was a spoiled prima donna. Turns out she just needed to feel in control of some aspect of her life.”

  “When did the relationship become romantic between the two of you?”

  I glanced at Xavier. I couldn’t get a read on whether he’d been touched by Neal’s story.

  Neal swallowed. “It was in the middle of the stalking incidents. She’d called me one night around two A.M., saying she thought she’d heard a noise outside the house. Dale and Susan were off in some yurt worshipping Jimmy Buffet, and Phoebe was all alone. Sawyer spends winters up at Snoqualmie skiing and instructing, so he wasn’t around either. Lily and I live about ten minutes from the Braithwaites’ former home. At Lily’s request, I got in my car and drove over there. Phoebe was a mess. She was in hysterics. She’d found a package on the front porch with no return address and no postage. It was clear it had been dropped off, not mailed.”

  “What was inside?” My fingers gripped the arms of the chair, my nails digging into the leather.

  “All her favorite candy. She liked the sour stuff. You know, the kind of things that the mere thought of them makes the hinges of your jaw tingle and your mouth fill with saliva?”

  I felt the sensation as he described it.

  Xavier sucked in his cheeks and swallowed.

  “Anyway, it was confusing to Phoebe because, on the one hand, it was clear the person was trying to do something nice for her, and there wasn’t a threatening note or anything, but the intrusiveness of having someone know your home address and invade your personal space that way—well, it freaked her out. It took me quite a while to get her to calm down. I made her some tea, turned on the fireplace, and put on a romantic comedy to take the edge off. I guess I hadn’t thought that through very well. I was trying to be the big brother, but what I’d done was create a very intimate setting, right after coming to her rescue. It would have been totally inappropriate even if I weren’t married. I took advantage of her vulnerable state and the fact she looked up to me. But when she looked up at me with those big blue eyes I…”

  He couldn’t finish his statement.

  “Was this an affaire du coeur or merely a physical relationship?”

  I shot Xavier a look. It was clear that, for Neal at least, this was an affair of the heart as much as a sexual one. Xavier responded with a double eyebrow raise.

  Neal sniffled. “I fell in love. I know it was wrong, but you must understand, Phoebe was extraordinary. She was the kind of person who brightened every room she entered. Charlotte, you know.”

  “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my experience, Neal. The night Andy introduced her to me, I had a difficult time understanding what he saw in her, other than her beauty. She was sullen and irritable and impossible to please. I worried he was setting himself up for a lifetime of falling short of her expectations.”

  Xavier turned to me. “That statement does not do your nephew any favors. It could be construed as a motive.”

  “I’m saying that was my impression. Andy was head over heels.”

  “I get it. Lily, she’s my wife, and I love her. She is a wonderful woman, wife, mother to our two boys. But Phoebe, she was…” Once again, he struggled to find the words. “She was lightning in a bottle.”

  “How long did the romantic relationship endure?” Xavier asked.

  “About a year or so.” Neal’s ability to speak buckled under the weight of his shame.

  “Does your wife know about the affair?” Xavier narrowed his gaze.

  A look of horror washed across Neal’s face. “She wouldn’t kill her own sister!”

  “I merely asked a question.” Xavier said.

  A reasonable one, in my mind. If Lily had discovered the affair, she had a motive. No one ever suspects the meek, timid ones, but they were just as capable of exacting revenge as anyone, maybe even more so. People like Lily fly under the radar, and they sometimes harness their invisibility for ill intentions.

  Neal banged his fist on the arm of his chair. “She wouldn’t hurt Phoebe. I can’t imagine anyone would hurt Phoebe intentionally.”

  Xavier clasped his hands and rested them on the desk in front of him. “But they did.” He seemed to heavily weigh his next words. “She was stabbed repeatedly. Our onboard physician has estimated between one and two dozen wounds.”

  A wounded yelp escaped Neal. I felt my chest constrict at the thought.

  “That’s a lot of anger. Hatred, even,” I said.

  “I agree. You did not answer my question regarding your wife, Monsieur Alcorn.”

  Neal took several deep breaths to regain his composure. “As far as I’m aware, my wife doesn’t know about…what happened between Phoebe and me.” He gave Xavier a pleading gaze. “I beg of you, don’t tell her. We have kids. A life together. Nine years of marriage.” His voice cracked at the end.

  “Perhaps you should have thought of that prior to bedding your wife’s sister.”

  I winced. Not that it wasn’t true, it was just brutal. Clearly, Neal was hurting. I knew Lily must be grieving as well. Dropping this bomb on her would only magnify her grief.

  On the other hand, it did create a motive, and the only way to discover what Lily knew about the relationship was to ask.

  “Am I in the clear?” Neal fumbled with his fingers in his lap.

  A guffaw escaped Xavier, but then he recomposed himself. “No, you are not exonerated. This investigation is ongoing. You have given me no proof you were not involved in the stalking incidents. For all I know, you delivered that box of candy and then returned to the scene a second time to offer your protection from the crisis you created.”

  “I didn’t! I was at home when she discovered the box! You can ask my wife.”

  “Oh, I will.” Xavier leaned back and crossed his arms.

  Realization dawned across Neal’s face. The only way to explain to Lily the need to know the timeline of his whereabouts at the time of the stalking incident would mean Xavier suspected him of being the stalker. That would lead to more questions and inevitably reveal the affair. There wasn’t really a way around it. If she hadn’t known before, it was going to break her heart.

  Even worse, if she had discovered the affair, Lily Alcorn had a strong motive for murdering her sister.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Where have you been?” Jane greeted me with a frenzied expression as I walked into the suite.

  “Trying to exonerate Andy.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  I laughed. “You were sawing logs like you were about to build a three-bedroom cabin in the woods. There was no way I was about to wake you from whatever dream you were having. Has Andy made an appearance yet this morning?”

  “Yes, he’s binge-watching a show in the bedroom. Come, sit down, and tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  When I’d finished my recap, her eyes were wide as saucers.

  “Do you think Lily did this? More than a dozen wounds.” She shivered. “I can’t imagine the type of animosity that could have fueled that kind of attack, but finding out your husband was having an affair—with your sister, no less—would definitely cause most people to feel murderous.” She paused. “Not that you did.”

  “I didn’t get the opportunity to find out. Hard to say what I’d have felt if I learned of the affair before Gabe’s death, even if I only had a moment to contemplate it before I knew he was gone. I must say, it’s hard to comprehend anyone getting so angry as to ruin their own future because their partner was unfaithful, but I guess it happens.”

  Jane guffawed. “It’s not hard for me to imagine at all. If I coulda killed Gabe a second time, I might have.”

  “Jane!”

  “Sorry, maybe you can forgive him posthumously, but I can’t.”

  “I haven’t…forgiven him, so to speak. I’m just dealing with the feelings. It’s not like I can change anything he did or make him feel better—if he even felt guilty about it at all—but I’ve gotta live with myself the rest of my life, and holding bitterness against someone unworthy of that much energy isn’t how I wish to expend it.”

  “Phoebe’s murder had to have been a crime of passion, don’t you think?”

  “It looks that way, but I don’t know that I’m ready to make that leap yet. Yes, that many stab wounds feels personal, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it was not premeditated. I’ve known people to hold rage for long periods of time, meticulously plotting their revenge.”

  “What kind of people are you spending time with?”

  “You mean besides you?” I laughed. “I should clarify. I know of people who do that, from reading true-crime novels and listening to podcasts.”

 

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