Double Dog Dare (The Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series) (11 page)

A murmur and shuffle went through the crowd on the lawn as reporters began to formulate their questions, but Alex’s attention was distracted by a stirring behind him.  The glass doors from the Harbor Club opened and he turned, a flicker of outrage
crossing his face at the indignity of the intrusion.  Susan turned as well, staring, and her hand fluttered to her throat.

Someone beside me said, “Holy crap.”

A woman in a big white hat and sunglasses wearing a white gauzy sundress walked out onto the deck.  I was close enough to hear her say to an astonished Alex, “Until now, darling.”

She had a thick mane of rich auburn hair, which fell loose around her shoulders as she took off her hat. She walked deliberately to the lectern and stood beside Alex. She removed her sunglasses.  A gasp went through the crowd.

She stood there for a moment, letting them all get a good look, and then she leaned toward the crowd.  Her voice was low and
rich, her smile strained and apologetic.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “I am so terribly sorry for all the fuss.  But as you can plainly see, and at the risk of sounding like a dreadful cliché—I’m afraid the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

“Jesus and Mary,”
breathed the reporter next to me.  “That’s Rachelle Denison.”

~*~

SEVEN

T
he crowd erupted around us.  “Miss Denison!” “ Miss Denison!”  “What happened out there?” “Where have you been the past forty-eight hours?” “Was this all part of the publicity for your new film?”  “Miss Denison! ”

They surged toward the deck, cameras clicking, wires trailing, everyone shouting at once. 
It was hard to know where to look.  The two men I’d assumed to be security guards proved my assumption correct by rushing in front of Rachelle Denison and spreading their arms to keep the crowd at bay.  She sounded a little frantic as she said into the microphone, “Please, please I’ll answer your questions if you’ll just give me a moment!”  The lawyer stepped up and said something into her ear.  And Alex Barry just stood there, white faced, staring.

Susan
came forward and I lost sight of what was going on for a minute while someone pushed in front of me and lifted a camera high overhead.  When I was able to see again, the two security guards were hurrying Rachelle toward the glass doors behind them, and the lawyer had hold of Alex’s arm, urging him to follow.  Susan stood in front of the podium, holding up her hands for quiet.  She didn’t get it.

“Please!” 
Susan called.  “Please!”

“Miss
Denison!”  

“Turn this way!’

“One more shot!”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Did you expect this?  What is your reaction?”

Susan
said loudly, “Gentlemen!  Ladies!  This is a shock for the family, as I’m sure you can appreciate.  Please give us a moment.  I promise we’ll have something for you as soon as we can.”

Somebody shouted, “My deadline is five o’clock!”

Someone else demanded, “Who are you?”

Susan
, wisely in my opinion, chose to make her escape and turned to follow her brother through the glass doors.  The other man, the one I had guessed to be a policeman, followed.

Miles turned to me. “Well,” he said
with a shrug, “I guess that’s that.  Shall we go?”

I could see my reflection in his sunglasses, and the astonishment on my face would have been comical in other circumstances.  My jaw actually dropped.
“Are you
kidding
?”

“Yes.”  He
put his arm around my shoulders and swept me through the crowd, up the steps,  and through the glass door just before it closed behind the policeman.  “Friend of the family,” he identified himself briefly when it looked as though the policeman might object, and jerked off his sunglasses.  “Susan, what the hell?”

We were in a small meeting room typical of such rooms everywhere—beige curtains and walls, a conference table
with dark wooden chairs pushed up against a wall, a cart with AV equipment in a corner—and it was almost as chaotic in here as it had been outside.  I pushed my sunglasses up into my hair and glanced around while Miles bore down on his ex-wife.  Rachelle Denison, who, now that I saw her in person, did look vaguely familiar, was in intense conversation with the lawyer and her husband, all of them talking at once so that it was impossible to catch anything clearly.   I heard words like. “Thought you were dead!” and “How can you”— and “If you’ll just give me a chance—” 

Susan’s voice caught my attention.  “Miles, I’m so glad you’re here!” I turned that way in time to see her grasp Miles’s hands in a way that seemed both desperate and intimate, and when she touched him the annoyance left his face.  “I don’t —can’t believe this!  Rachelle, oh my God, it’s really you!”

Susan
left Miles to push her way between her brother and the lawyer, and she grasped Rachelle by the shoulders, staring at her for just an instant.  Then she whispered, “Oh my God!” and Rachelle started to cry the kind of tears that are mixed with joy and  so did Susan, and they embraced.  Maybe it was just me, but I thought it was a little odd her husband hadn’t done the same thing the moment he saw her.

I murmured out loud, mostly to myself.  “She certainly does look healthy for a woman who’s supposed to have been dead for two days.”

The policeman who stood beside me agreed,  “My thoughts exactly, mademoiselle.”

His French accent, though not particularly heavy, along with his pencil moustache and dapper appearance
, reminded me of Inspector Poirot, which made me feel at ease with him immediately. He probably used that resemblance to his advantage a good deal, but then again how much major crime could there be on a resort island like this?

He asked my name, and I told him
, and Miles’s name too.  He wrote both of them down.  I added, “I’m just a guest here.  I don’t really know anyone involved.  But in the States we have laws against people who file false police reports.”

His smile was tight and brief.  “We are a small island with an even smaller security force, mademoiselle, and greatly dependent in our economy on the goodwill of those who visit us here.  It is for the most part in the best interest of all concerned to close this case on a happy note. Now, if you will forgive me, I shall now make an attempt to do just that.”   

He left me with a small bow, which I liked, and approached Rachelle and Susan, who were wiping each other’s tears between exclamations of joy and relief.  Alex was just staring at them with an expression on his face that we in the mountains called “poleaxed”.  I’ve never known exactly what that means, but I know what it looks like.

The policeman said, “Madame
Denison, my name is Inspector LeClerk.  May I express how relieved we all are to see you looking so well?  The island of St. Barthelemy has devoted a great many resources over the past two days to the process of recovering your mortal remains from the depth of the ocean where, we were given to believe, your life had been lost.  Perhaps you would do me the kindness of explaining how you come to be standing here today?”

Miles touched my shoulder, murmuring, “This I’ve got to hear.”
 

Susan
found some tissues; Rachelle dabbed at her eyes.  The lawyer murmured something to her, and pulled out one of the chairs at the table for her.  She sat down , and Susan took a chair beside her, holding her hand.  Everyone else stood.  I moved a little closer.

Rachelle took a breath, and balled the tissue in her free hand.  She said,
“I’m sorry.  I know everyone’s been worried.  I…” There was a slight hitch in her voice, and she glanced down to compose herself.  Susan squeezed her fingers bracingly, and Rachelle managed a faint smile when she looked up again. “I thought I was dead, too.”

She took another breath.  “I
t was my fault.”  She glanced apologetically at her husband.  “I didn’t tell Alex I was taking diet pills.  I had to drop some weight for this new role, and I had to do it quickly.  I shouldn’t have had the champagne, but it was a tradition and…”  She looked at him with big wet eyes.  “I’m sorry, darling.  I’m so sorry.”

He remained impassive.

The inspector prompted, “So you went diving after mixing diet pills and champagne.”

She nodded, looking ashamed.  “It was stupid, but my judg
ment was impaired. I didn’t realize how fast I was using up my air until it was almost gone.  After that it’s all a blur.  I know Alex tried to help me but I was terrified, my heart was going like a freight train, I thought I was dying.  I lost Alex.  I didn’t have a dive light.  All I could think to do was to ditch my equipment and try to surface.  But I didn’t know where the surface was.”

A long silence while she, presumably, relived that horrible night.  This was the second time I had heard the story, though from vastly differently points of view, in a very short time, and the only thing I knew for certain was that it would take an act of God to ever get me in
scuba equipment.

Finally the inspector said, “One presumes you did, eventually, find the surface.”

She nodded, too emotional to speak.

“Why didn’t you call for help?  You could not have been far from the boat.”

“I didn’t see it at first.  There was chop, and I was exhausted, all I could do was tread water and try to get my strength back.  I heard the emergency claxon and I tried to call out for help.  My voice was too weak, and the current kept pulling me farther and farther away from the boat.  Eventually I had to swim with it just to stay alive.  I swam until I saw the lights of shore, and I let the tide carry me in.  The next thing I remember I woke up in a bed in this little beach cottage, with this French woman trying to get me to drink some juice, still wearing my dive suit… I think her husband had found me that morning on the beach but…” she smiled apologetically, “my French is not very good. I didn’t realize how much time had passed, but I was terribly weak and dehydrated.  I slept off and on for a long time.  The better part of two days, I guess. ”

It sounded like the plot to a movie.  In fact, I think I had seen it.

Apparently I was not the only one who was thinking along those lines, because there was definitely a note of skepticism in the inspector’s voice as he said, “And I assume if we attempt to find this good woman and her husband, there will be no problem doing so?”

She looked faintly hurt.  “I can’t imagine there would be.  I intend to return myself later today with some gifts to thank them for their kindness.  You’re welcome to come along.”

The inspector did not look up from jotting down his notes.  “And this household did not possess a telephone?”

“I don’t know.” She sounded a little defiant now.  “
I didn’t ask.  All I know is that I was desperate to get back here.  I knew Alex would be frantic.  As soon as I was able to stand, I asked the gentleman to drive me home.  He had a jeep.  He took me to the house, and the housekeeper told me what was happening here.  Of course I came as soon as I changed.”

And shampooed and blow-dried that gorgeous hair, and applied make up to be ready for the cameras, and polished her nails.  I knew I was thinking what everyone else in the room was thinking:  if her story could be sold by the truckload, it would fertilize every lawn on the island.

I said, apropos of absolutely nothing, “Cocoa must have been glad to see you.”

Okay, so I knew perfectly well it was not my place to say anything, particularly anything as
ridiculously out-of-the-blue as that.  But it was worth the scowl from the lawyer and the raised eyebrows from Miles to see her go, for a brief instant, off-script.

She stared at me.  It was not a friendly look. “What?”

“Your dog,” I said helpfully.  “Cocoa.  He’s been insane without you.  He must have been so happy to see you when you got back.”

She scrambled to recover from her confusion.  “Well, of course.  Of course he was.  But no happier than I was to see him.  Of course
, the main thing on my mind was Alex, and all the confusion my disappearance must have caused.  That was the main thing I was worried about.”

I said, “Well, I’m glad he made it home all right.”

She just stared at me.

I maintained my sweet smile.  “Because he ran away last night and as of this morning he was still missing.”

Rachelle’s stare turned cold. “Excuse me,” she said.  “Who are you?”

Susan
spoke up.  “He came home,” she said.  “A few hours ago. Cocoa came home.”

Okay, so now I felt a little foolish.  I said, “
Oh.  Well, that’s good.  Great human interest story.  Your dog comes home in time to greet your return from the dead.  I’m Raine Stockton, by the way,” I added, answering her question.  “I’m a huge fan of your work.”   Among all the other lies that had been told in the past few minutes, this one seemed right at home.

The inspector turned his gaze from me back to Rachelle.
“One more question, Madame, if I may.”

She composed herself and looked at him pleasantly.

“What is the name of this new film of yours?”

She started to answer, seemed to reconsider, and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.  She glanced at her husband, who remained impassive.  Staring at her.