“What about the captain—?”
“Found his body below deck. Wasn’t sliced and diced like the other four. Shot.”
“With a .22?” Matt asked.
“You psychic or do you have something you’d like to share with the class?”
“Just a guess,” Matt shrugged. Had the captain been shot with the same weapon used on Kresley? “Have you found the gun?”
“Not the gun. Not the knife,” the detective replied.
Matt strolled carefully along the edge of the yacht, taking care not to disturb the blood. “The dinghy is still tied up.”
Gabe and the detective came up beside him. “So, unless the purses and weapons helped each other off the boat, they had company.”
“Did you dust the ladder?” Matt asked.
“Lots of smudges and a partial. Small, either a man’s pinkie finger or could be a woman’s print.”
“Have they been run yet?” Matt asked.
“Not yet,” Ross said. “Once we finish processing the scene, then we’ll start scanning the prints through the system.”
Gabe patted Ross on the back. “Sounds like you’ve got it all covered.”
“Naw, too much blood,” Ross countered. “And the galley is stocked for eight dinner guests. I think what we’re looking at is half a crime scene.”
SO FOUR OF the dinner guests were missing. This fact gave Matt a glimmer of hope. Especially after he saw the smudge of red paint along the port side of the yacht. Now all he needed to do was find a red boat that might have been tied up to the yacht—one of whose occupants may have been Janice. Only problem? Too many maybes and assumptions. Truth be told, there was a greater possibility that Janice had been killed and her body tossed into the ocean.
Near dawn he headed back to Kresley. He knocked on the door of possibly the only person with answers to what had gone down on the yacht—if she could only remember them.
IT HAD BEEN more than twenty-four hours since Matt had pulled her out of the ocean and what had Kresley learned? That she was a left-handed woman who was behind on her rent, even though she had sufficient funds in her bank account to make the fifteen-hundred-dollar payment. Oh, and the gown. “Let’s not forget the gown,” she muttered as she got up on tiptoes and peered through the peephole.
“Good morning,” she said, opening the door just enough so that turned sideways, she was blocking his path.
“Smells like you made muffins,” he said with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes.
She couldn’t help but smile back. “One-handed, no less.”
“Do I get one? I did save your life.”
Kresley tilted her head to one side. “You know this isn’t I Dream of Jeannie. I’m not going to do your bidding for the rest of my life.”
“I am not feeling the gratitude.”
“If I give you a muffin, will you go away?”
“Maybe. Why, you have a big day planned?”
He followed her inside and couldn’t resist asking, “Any more memories or flashes?”
She shook her head. “Sorry,” she said as she took a lemon-and-poppy-seed muffin off a plate and handed it to him.
“Then why so chipper?” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his shorts.
She turned, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Having Thor helps,” she admitted.
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