Irregardless of Murder (Miss Prentice Cozy Mysteries) (11 page)

“The life jackets are over here,” said Vern, pointing to a metal chest.

“Wait,” I called to him. “Look down there.” We had a bird’s eye view of the action on the deck.

Vern joined me at the railing. “They’ve let down someone with a raft. Look, they’ve got something!”

A burly crewman was bending over the rail to receive a sodden, greenish-brown bundle, which he carried tenderly to an empty spot among the cars, out of our view. He laid his burden gently on the deck and, as he stood to bark some instruction to someone nearby, I stood on tiptoe to get a better look.

The crewman stood back and held out his hand to take a wadded piece of cloth, which he shoved into his jacket pocket. It was an insignificant movement, over in two seconds, but my eyes had just enough time to catch a glimpse of a familiar maroon and olive-green pattern. It was my scarf.

My mind whirled. “Oh dear God! Oh, no! Vern,” I gasped. “That’s Lily!”

I looked around for the fastest way to the lower deck. The only stairs I could see were crowded with passengers, eager to see what was happening. I looked down again and toyed with the idea of sliding under the railing and taking my chances on the eight-foot jump, when an alternative came to me.

With Vern close behind, I ducked under the rope and barged shamelessly through the crowd to the top of the tightly-packed staircase. Then I squeezed under the railing and made my descent on the outside, the toes of my high heels making contact with the narrow strip of step that extended beyond the rails.

It was an outrageous thing to do, of course. Only a month ago, the same stunt performed at the high school had earned one of my students two weeks in detention. It was effective, though. Within seconds, I was on deck, hurrying toward the knot of people that surrounded Lily. Later, Vern told me everyone was shouting at me, but I didn’t hear a thing as I desperately threaded in and out among the cars.

I was only a few cars away now.

“That’s Lily Burns, isn’t it?” I asked the white-jacketed young man who barred my way.

“Don’t know her name.” He held up his hand, palm out. “Stay back, ma’am, and let him work.”

“Let who work?”

There was no answer. The crewman’s attention seemed elsewhere, but when I attempted to squirm around him, large hands gripped my shoulders and restrained me.

“He knows what he’s doing, ma’am,” he kept repeating. “We gotta stay back.”

“He?” I stood on tiptoe and caught sight of a flash of shiny yellow. No one was talking now. The only sound was the whipping of the wind in my ears.

All at once I heard a cough, then a retching sound. A happy collective murmur spread through the crowd. There was a smattering of applause. The crowd parted and I stepped forward to see Lily’s small, crumpled form stirring once more to life.

The one who had revived her sat back on his heels, scratched his scruffy head, and beamed at me.

It was Professor Alexander Alexander.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“It was Providence, dear lady,” insisted Alec. “The poor mite was out there, flailing away desperately when I caught sight of her. I knew right away who it was. She must have just gone down for the third time, as it were, when the lads fetched her out.” He waved away my gratitude and smiled down at the stretcher where Lily lay, shivering and unnaturally quiet.

“Gracious Providence,” he repeated, rolling his r’s gently. “There’s just no other explanation. I was tempted, remember, to remain in your pleasant company, but something compelled me to go out at that moment and scan the waves.” He shrugged and ran a knuckle under one eye. “Providence,” he repeated gruffly and ambled away.

It was just a few minutes to the Vermont side, where an ambulance was waiting. As I began to climb in the back with Lily, she crooked a trembling finger at me. I leaned close to her face.

“Don’t look so worried. I’ll be all right,” she said hoarsely. “You go on to the sale.” Her hand, very cold and still a little damp, patted mine.

“No, Lily! I’m going with you.” I pulled the blanket down at the end of the stretcher. One of her stockinged feet had been sticking out. I hoped it was just my imagination that it looked a bit blue.

“Nonsense!” she snapped, and my heart lifted a little to hear the spirit returning to her voice. “Come back up here where I can see you!”

I obeyed and her voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “You need to drive my car off that boat and I’m going to need a nightie. They’re taking me to the hospital.” She looked around her. “Where’s my purse?” she wailed weakly and grabbed my arm. “Oh, no! It’s at the bottom of the lake!” She tried to rise on one elbow, but an attendant restrained her.

A long arm bearing the bag in question thrust in the ambulance door. “I found it on the deck,” said Vern. “Dry as a bone.” He withdrew into the crowd.

Flat on her back, Lily fumbled in the bag for her car keys and a credit card. She handed them to me and, clutching the bag to her breast, ordered, “Run along now.” Her voice was gaining strength with use. “Come see me at the hospital in a little while once I’ve gotten cleaned up. And tell that tall kid thanks. Remember,” she called as I backed out of the ambulance, “pale pink. Size eight, petite. Or small. Whichever they have—” The ambulance door slammed shut.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am, your friend’ll be okay,” the attendant assured me. “We see all kinds in this job, and this one’s a keeper.”

“Did they find her shoes?” I asked. “They’re alligator and—”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “Must have come off in the lake.” He climbed in the front seat and the ambulance pulled away.

Poor Lily. She loved those shoes.

Vern walked up to me, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Need the keys. We gotta get her car off the ferry. They can’t load up for the return trip till we do.”

I handed them over and he bounded away.

I found a bench near the ticket booth and waited, shivering, for Vern to return with the car.

Someone walked up and stood before me. “Miss Prentice, how is Mrs. Burns?”

I looked up at Sally Jennings. “She’s going to be fine, we think.”

“Oh, what a relief. I was just telling Steve—Mr. Trechere, would you come over here?” She waved over her dark-haired companion from the ferry. “This is the lady whose house I’ve been telling you about.”

Steve Trechere looked down at me where I sat, switched his cigarette to his left hand and reached out to shake my right. His overcoat was draped jauntily over his shoulders and he wore a chunky diamond pinky ring and an expensive-looking watch.
Suave
was the word for Steve Trechere. With his curly dark hair and chiseled cheekbones, he reminded me of an abbreviated Louis Jourdan.

Though he looked me straight in the eye, I sensed that his mind was somewhere else. “Good t’ know you,” he said, with a slight French-Canadian accent.

“Steve’s from Montreal,” Sally explained, “but he’s got some business interests locally. I’m just introducing him around.”

“Oh, ah, yes,” I said. Then this was Sally’s very eager buyer. The Millionaire from Montreal. Sounded like an old Betty Grable movie. He was probably going to try to persuade me to sell my house.

I looked around helplessly. Where was Vern?

Trechere glanced at his watch. He turned to Sally. “Look, I’m afraid we gotta—” he said just as she began to sympathize with me.

“You’ve been through the mill, lately, haven’t you, Amelia?”

Her solicitude caused me to touch my bandage. My head wasn’t hurting, I noticed with relief.

Sally patted my shoulder. “First finding Marguerite LeBow like that and now this.”

At the mention of Marguerite’s name, Trechere whirled back in my direction and fastened a piercing look on my face.

“What’s this? Who’d you find?” he demanded, his dark brows tightening over his eyes.

“Just a local tragedy, Steve,” Sally explained. “Drugs are a terrible curse in this country,” she said and sighed. “I’m sure it must be better in Canada, right?”

“And you’re the one who found this person?” Trechere asked. His scowl was unnerving.

“No. Actually, I fell over her.” I shuddered. “It was terrible. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not—”

“Oh, of course, Amelia,” Sally cut in. “We’ll get back with you later. Steve? Are you ready to go? Our appointment at the bank is in fifteen minutes.”

Trechere continued to stare at me. I looked away, but as I did, I had a fleeting thought. The night of Marguerite’s death, Lily had collided with a short, dark-haired man rushing out of the library. I hadn’t gotten a very good look at him. I wondered if Lily had.

“Steve?” Sally asked again.

“Eh? Ah, yes. Excuse us, please,” he said to me, and his face relaxed. “It is very important, this appointment.”

He smiled and the sense of menace faded immediately. He was charming, no doubt about it. And familiar, somehow. Probably because I’ve seen him—or his taller, older brother—in the movies. As he backed away apologetically, I found myself wanting to tell him he was wonderful in
Gigi.

I watched them climb into Sally’s sports car. Steve Trechere was an attractive man, but if he was interested in buying my house, I wasn’t anxious to meet him again soon.

Lily’s car swung around the corner and halted with a jerk. “You ready, Amelia? Hop in!” Vern leaned out and opened the passenger door. “Where to? The hospital?” he asked as I complied.

“Not just yet. I need to go to JJ Peasemarsh first. It’ll be a mob scene, but Lily needs a few things. I know the way.”

“That’s good. I don’t know my way around this town all that well.”

“Then why were you riding the ferry?”

He grinned. “To keep an eye on you. Boss’s orders.” He pulled out into traffic.

“Gil?” I wasn’t really surprised. In fact, I was very pleased. “But you said you didn’t see him.”

Vern shrugged. “Forgive me. I fudged a little. He left me a note in the kitchen this morning. Said to look after you.”

“And just why would I need looking after?”

“I didn’t know at first, but now I do.” He pushed his hair off his forehead. It fell back over his eyes immediately.

“You do what?”

Vern stopped for a red light. “I know that what happened to Lily wasn’t any accident. And that you were the one supposed to fall overboard.” He punctuated his words by poking my shoulder with a long forefinger.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Think about it. You were both wearing the same color raincoats. They look alike, you know.”

“They are identical,” I agreed.

“And you gave her your scarf. It must have looked like you climbed the stairs, then turned around and came back. And, no offense, Amelia—” The light turned green and he moved the car forward. “But one small lady in a raincoat and
babushka
looks a lot like another one.”

“I don’t know, Vern. After all, the deck was wet, and Lily was wearing high heels. She could have—”

“Not with that high railing along the side, she couldn’t’ve! Not without help. Okay, sure, if she was standing over by the chain at the bow, but—”

I gasped. “I was standing by that chain!”

“I know. I was watching you. In fact, I was so close, I could have pushed you overboard myself.” He braked suddenly and rebuked another driver, “Easy, easy! There’s room for everybody, buddy. Whew! This traffic’s getting wild.”

“But Vern, it doesn’t make sense. I don’t know anyone who would want to hurt me. Or Lily, either.”

“Gil thinks it has something to do with Marguerite. After all, Marie’s disappeared, hasn’t she?”

I hadn’t an answer for that one. I kept picturing myself falling under the front of the moving ferryboat. If I were to be sucked into the wake of the propeller, even Alec couldn’t revive what was left of me.

“Who was that you were talking to at the dock?” Vern asked. “He looked familiar.”

“Ever see
Gigi
?”

“See who?”

“Never mind. His name’s Steve Trechere. The Millionaire from Montreal, so-called. Sally’s been taking him all over town this week,” I said. I explained what Lily had told me about the proposed plans for the houses on my street.

Vern seemed impressed. “Could be a good thing for the community. You going to take him up on it? It might mean a nice little hunk of cash. You could get yourself one of those cool condos over behind the mall. Careful, lady!” He braked suddenly for an unwary pedestrian.

I explained to Vern in no uncertain terms what I thought of trading my ancestral home for a condo, however cool it might be. He held up a hand defensively. “Hey, it’s none of my business. Gil told me you’re a little obsessive on the subject.”

I bristled. “I have no doubt Gil told you a good deal about me. I suggest you reserve judgment until you know it all.”

“Hey, I’m cool.” Vern grinned at me. His ability to change moods on a dime could be irritating. “Y’know what I’m gonna do?”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to reserve judgment.”

“Good.”

“Until I know it all.”

“Even better,” I said dryly, watching for the next turn. I tried not to smile.

All at once, a familiar figure in a green and yellow jacket emerged from one of the shops and began walking rapidly along the sidewalk away from us.

I grabbed the steering wheel and pounded desperately on the horn with my left fist. “Vern! Stop the car! Turn around. It’s Marie LeBow! Did you see her?”

At the sound of the horn, Marie glanced vaguely over her shoulder, but continued walking. In a few seconds, she would be out of sight.

Vern exploded with a brief, blasphemous phrase. “Don’t ever do that again! You nearly killed us both!” He was shaking with anger.

“But it’s Marie! I saw her over there!” I pointed to the spot where she had melted into the crowd. “Pull over! Do something! I’ve got to catch up with her!”

“In all this traffic? Are you out of your mind? All I can do is turn at the next corner and go around the block.”

I agreed meekly. Vern was too angry to press further.

Traffic was as congested on the side street as on the main thoroughfare. Everyone, it seemed, had the same idea about shopping at JJ Peasemarsh.

We were fortunate that Vern had had some heavy-duty driving experience. Even so, it took at least five minutes and some aggressive merging to get around the block and approach the spot where I had last seen Marie.