Текст книги "The Starboard Knife"

Автор книги: Ernie Lindsey

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 5 страниц)

If Wade had been having trouble with his marriage at home—facing rejection, fighting with his wife—if he had already been pushed to a fragile breaking point, Erica’s denial could have triggered his pent up emotions.

He put his hand on Jenn’s cheek, stroked her skin with his thumb. “You know whatever happens, I’m here to protect you.”

“I know that. And, I’m… I’m sorry. You know, for the past year. I should’ve… If I had done things differently, maybe this… And now she’s…” Jenn couldn’t stop the tears.

Alex pulled her close. He let her cry.

Both of us could’ve done things differently.

***

Alex stood with his back to the wall. He was on the starboard side of the stairwell leading up from below deck. Chet stood in the same position on the port side.

“Pssst,” Chet hissed.

Alex looked at him, held his fingers to his lips.

Chet whispered, “Okay, okay, but are you sure about this?”

Alex nodded, pretended like he was locking his lips closed and tossed the imaginary key over his shoulder.

Chet swallowed hard.

Alex had trusted Chet with his suspicions about Wade. He had to. Chet was the only viable option. For Alex’s plans, Mark was too small, and, besides, Terri hadn’t let him out of her sight since earlier that morning. Plus, Alex had recalled Chet’s reaction when they had first seen Erica’s body. Chet’s response had been one of legitimate fear, surprise, and repulsion. If he wasn’t innocent, he’d certainly done an incredible job of acting like he was.

Jenn, standing at the top of the stairwell, nervously whispered, “Are you ready?”

Alex mouthed, “Go.”

She asked Chet the same. He shook his head no, shrugged his shoulders, and then nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay,” Jenn said quietly, “here goes.” She stepped closer to the doorway and shouted down. “Wade? Hey, Wade?”

All three heard a muffled response of, “Yeah? Everything okay?”

“The others are kind of concerned that you’re down there by yourself. Maybe you should come up, huh?”

His voice coming closer, he replied, “They know I’m down here searching for evidence. What’s the problem?”

“Just come up, please. Maybe if you reassured them?”

“Fine.”

Alex could tell by the sound of Wade’s voice that he was at the bottom of the stairwell. Jenn confirmed this by waving and forcing a fake smile. “Hey, sorry,” she said, then put her hands on her hips and backed away.

“Yeah, yeah.” The footsteps and the voice were close now. “I thought they were cool with it?” Closer still.

Wade appeared in the doorway, groaned as he pushed himself up the last of the stairs and onto the deck. Alex tried to flatten his body against the wall as much as possible. Wade took two more steps toward Jenn, and her flickering eyes betrayed Alex and Chet’s position.

Wade sensed the danger and spun around, spotting Alex. Bushy eyebrows sprang higher on his forehead as Chet swung the thick-glassed, heavy bottle of whiskey.

Wade said, “What’s—” and dropped like an anchor after the thick thunk on the back of his head.

***

Alex threw a glass of expensive scotch in Wade’s face, waking him up where he’d been slumped on the couch.

Wade coughed, sputtered, and struggled against the bright red mooring rope that bound his wrists together behind his back.

The remaining eight friends stood around him in a semi-circle, arms crossed, judging him, already on trial by his peers.

He tried to blink away the stinging alcohol in his eyes, rubbed his face on his shoulders. The back of his white t-shirt was soaked red from the blood leaking out of his scalp; the couch cushions, too. The bottle, thick enough to be used as a hammer, had left a nasty knot and a deep gash that would need stitches.

Groggily, Wade said, “What happened?”

“There’s no cell service this far out,” Jenn replied. “You lied about what you were doing last night.”

“Hang on. What?”

The wind raged outside the galley. Sheets of rain fell into the ocean and disappeared, returning home.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

Alex leaned down and shouted in his face, “Quit trying to play dumb, asshole. Why’d you kill Erica?”

“Erica? Huh? No, I didn’t do it. I—”

Alex shouted again, cheeks going red behind the tan. “There’s no cell service out here, and even if there was, there was no call to Linda last night. I found an old charger and we turned on your phone while you were out. Guess what? No service. We checked your contacts and there’s a Linda in your phone, but no calls to her last night. None. You’re lying. What happened, Wade? Did you try to get your dick wet? Erica said no, didn’t she? She said no, and you couldn’t take the rejection, could you? You slit her throat, you threw the knife overboard, and then told everybody you were going to find out who did it. I bet you were never even a cop, were you?”

Wade pleaded, “Yeah, I was. We get back to shore, you can look up my records, but I didn’t kill her.”

Jenn put all of her weight behind a devastating right cross. Wade’s head whipped to the side and fresh droplets of blood splattered the white cushions behind him, adding to the splotch of coloring. She tried to shake the pain away from her hand, checked her knuckles—two of them red and would bruise soon. “You did, and you know it. I’d known her since we were babies, you sadistic freak! She was my friend.”

“Jenn, you gotta believe me. I didn’t kill her, okay?”

“Then tell us why there’s no call to this mystery woman!”

“I-I can’t,” Wade whimpered. “I can’t say.”

“You can’t say because you murdered her. You, you, you!” Jenn yanked the roll of duct tape out of Alex’s hand. The harsh, vibrating sound of her ripping a strip loose, and then tearing it free from the roll, broke through the gusting wind and noise of the rocking yacht. She said, “Deny it all you want. Every bit of evidence is pointing to you. We’re exhausted. We’re done. If you won’t admit to us that you killed her, then you can say it to the cops when we get home.” She slammed the strip of tape against this mouth.

Wade slid forward, off the couch and down onto his knees, where he looked up, pleading with his eyes, shouting muted gibberish.

Chet and Karen clapped. Mark put one arm around Terri as she bit her bottom lip. The yacht’s lights deepened the shadows around her crow’s feet. Sharon and Laura stood back near the bar, cradling strong drinks in shaky hands. Alex simply nodded his approval.

Jenn said to the crowd, “Everybody okay with this? Are we done here?” They all agreed, immediately. To Alex, she said, “Let’s go home. Now.”

***

Concealed inside his jacket, held tightly by a clammy hand, Mark rolled the pocketknife around and around, feeling the weight of it, wishing he could pry it open and test the sharpness of the blade.

He smiled when nobody was watching.

REWIND

Erica yelped and strained to see who it was. “Oh, hey. God, you scared me. What’s the matter? Can’t sleep?”

Mark stepped out of the deepest darkness. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “If this is, um, if this is untoward, me being in here, then you can tell me to leave.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replied, curious, because she always thought of Mark as being too timid to spook a mouse, and here he was, sneaking up on her in the middle of the night. Had he come to check on her? He used to be a doctor, right? Or was it a lawyer? Was that Chet? She asked, “Something the matter?”

“Everything, really. She thinks I’m asleep.”

“Who? Jenn?” She wasn’t thinking clearly—a hangover and a head wound combined aren’t much good for rational thoughts. It hurt when she shook her head.

“My wife.”

“Right, Terri. My brain’s kinda mushy.” She pointed to the bandage. A moment of clarity slipped in. “Wait, if she thinks you’re asleep, what’s she doing now?” Erica sat on the edge of the bed, pulled the robe tighter to hide her naked body underneath. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared. He’d seen everything hours before, and in the months prior—loose inhibitions and alcohol, her vices—but this was…odd. He seemed sad, however, and she patted the bed, asking him if he wanted to sit.

“I’m fine, really,” he insisted, sitting anyway. “And the question isn’t what she’s doing, it’s whose room is she in?”

Her head throbbed, and she desperately wanted to lie back down, but this juicy bit of gossip was too much to pass up. “Really?” she asked, unable to hide her giddy inquisitiveness. She knew it wasn’t the appropriate response because clearly Mark was troubled, yet she hadn’t been able to corral it in time. Anyway, she saw him like three times a year. What happened in his life, whatever bad things there were, had no bearing on her world whatsoever. He wasn’t her friend. He was Jenn’s, and even then, that was tenuous at best. She wasn’t even entirely sure how he and Terri were part of the group.

She seemed to remember Jenn saying that Wade had introduced them last year.

Was that right? It was too damn early to process such things.

Mark dropped his blank stare to the floor. “She’s in Wade’s room. Obviously doing what two people do. It’s been going on for a while now.”

“You mean, like, tonight? I didn’t know old guys could last that long.”

“I don’t mean that. Probably since last summer when he installed the curtain rods in our master bedroom. I’ve suspected it, but we’ve been fighting so much lately, I think she’s stopped caring.”

Erica couldn’t help herself. She chuckled. Curtain rods. It seemed like such a ridiculous thing. Plus, there had to be a joke in there about carpets matching drapes and something to do with rods (snicker).

“Are you laughing? You’re laughing. I’m dying over here.” Mark whimpered around the words. “It’s not funny.”

“I know. That was mean.” She put her hand on his thigh. Nothing sexual, just reassuring. “Look, I’m probably not the best one for advice. I mean, shit, I don’t know if I’ll ever get married and have kids. And ruin this body? Are you kidding me? But, seriously, Mark. You’re a good-looking guy, and she’s—well, Terri is Terri. I say you can do better. I say let him have her. Go out, live your life. Get a tan, buy a hot, cherry red, convertible sports car, and find some sexy little vixen like me. You want to make her jealous? Get back at her? That’s how you get back at her.”

Erica was proud of herself. That sounded like perfectly solid guidance.

Mark said, “Some sexy little vixen like you?”

“Well, yeah,” she muttered. “Not me. Can’t shit where you eat, can you?”

He leaned in. “What if we just—”

She shoved her palm against his puckered lips. “Ew, Mark, no. Gross.”

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” He scooted back on the bed, hands unsure of themselves. He looked past Erica’s shoulder and said, “See? I told you she wouldn’t go for it.”

Erica jumped when she felt the soft hand over her mouth. The long nails dug into her cheek. She tried to scream, but her captor squeezed harder. She felt the knife’s blade against the side of her neck.

“Shut up or I’ll kill you now.”

Terri’s voice.

“And what do you mean, ‘Terri is Terri,’ huh? That’s insulting.”

Mark stood and thrust a finger at his wife. “I told you, you’ve gone too far this time. This is not a game you should be playing. Not here. Not on a yacht. I told you she wouldn’t do it. I said so earlier. I said she wouldn’t be into it.”

The hand tightened once more, fingernails digging deeper. “That’s too bad, isn’t it? I thought for sure the little harlot would spread her legs for anything with a pulse. We don’t like rejection, do we, Mark?”

“No, but…”

Erica felt the blade scrape slowly down her skin. Terri caressed Erica’s areolas with it, dragging it around them in lazy circles, teasing her nipples, then slipping it down her stomach. Erica couldn’t see it, her eyes fixed on the ceiling overhead, but the blade felt small, maybe the size of a pocketknife. Terri held the flat side against Erica’s skin, between her legs.

Terri whispered into her ear, “You disgust me, you know that? Your money, your tan, your body. You take and you take and you make fun of my poor little husband over there when all he wanted was some comforting. You couldn’t be kind enough to put that dainty little mouth of yours around that teensy-weensy green bean he’s got dangling with those berries. All you had to do was say yes, and this would—”

“For the love of—just get it over with,” Mark said, marching over. He snatched the knife from Terri’s hand and in one quick motion, his arm was up and the sharp edge slid across Erica’s throat. He angled his body to the side, managing to avoid the aftereffects.

She fell forward, gagging softly. The last thing she heard was Terri and Mark, arguing again.

Terri said, “It was my turn, you jerk.”

“Shut up. Help me get her robe off.”

“Relax. We’ve got it all figured out, babe. A yacht? You can’t make this stuff up. Don’t you understand how awesome this is?”

“You went too far, and it’s too close to home.”

“We’re good. We’re so good. They all saw Jenn. Alex was the last one to see her alive. They practically handed it to us. This is the best one yet, honey.”

***

Wade rolled onto his side, a blissful smile resting on his lips. “You know how much I hate boats, but isn’t it amazing? I can’t believe I actually have service out here. Maybe all these electronics down in the hull are acting like an antenna, but I’ve heard people say you can get service twenty-five miles out on a crystal clear night. Who knows. Did I mention how much I hate boats? I have to be quiet, though. If Jenn finds out I brought my phone, she’ll kill me. I couldn’t imagine going a whole weekend without talking to you.”

“Same here, sweetie, but you know I have to ask. You’ll remember to delete the record of this call when you’re done, won’t you?”

“Of course. I always do.”

“And do you still have me listed as Linda in your phone?”

Wade huffed, exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you? Yes, I have you listed as Linda on this stupid phone, Robert. Nothing is going to hurt your candidacy in any way. As far as anyone knows, I’m just your contractor.”

Wade closed his eyes. Maybe the weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

###

Dear Reader,

Thanks so much for spending your valuable time reading The Starboard Knife. I know how busy life can get and it means a lot to me that you chose to spend a couple of hours with this novella. If you’d like to read more of my fiction, visit my author page on Amazon where you’ll find a variety of mystery and thrillers similar to this one.

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Finally, if you enjoyed The Starboard Knife, please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon. It doesn’t have to be much—even a couple of sentences can help sway a future reader’s opinion. You can help make a difference, because word-of-mouth is one of the most important forms of advertising for an indie author.

Thanks again!

EL

August 2014

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

PART SEVEN

PART EIGHT

PART NINE

PART TEN

REWIND

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DEAR READER