Janine Marie - Rigging a Murder 01 - The Single Shoe Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

react.
    “Steph, can you grab my medical bag?” he asked calmly over his shoulder— though unnecessarily, since Steph was already doing so—as he disembarked and walked toward the girl.
    “Breathe, take a deep breath…. Now, we need you to show us where Mr. Moretti is,” he said to the girl, looking her in the eye and oozing with a calm professional manner that instantly helped the girl get enough control of her panic to lead the way.
    We all followed her, except for Katie, who, hearing the cry, had managed to pull herself away from her DVD and had come up on the deck our sailboat. But I instructed her to stay on our boat and promised I would let her know what had happened as soon as I knew myself. She looked rebellious and tried to protest but a look from her father sent her back down the companionway.
    Running now to catch up with the fast-moving group as they boarded the big Hatteras, I was struck by how quiet the yacht was. Where was everyone else on this boat? Why had the girl been running up and down the dock? Couldn’t the Blackwoods help? And Lorenzo’s wife Catherine must be with him…. These musings were cut short as I joined the group and we were quickly ushered through the boat. The owner’s suite was on the bow of the main level, but to my surprise we didn’t head there but instead went down the stairs past the open laundry room door and down a narrow hall. The door at its end was open, and even though I was at the back, I could see the blood on the floor.
    Greg sprang into action, looking for a pulse and assessing injures. Thomas pushed the shaken cook toward me with a grunt as he looked about him, trying to figure out what had happened. Steph turned white and excused herself, saying she was going to look in on Lorenzo’s wife, Catherine.
    “Good idea,” we all seemed to say at once but at different times; actually, we had all forgotten about Catherine.
    Realizing that calming down and questioning the young cook was the most helpful thing I could do for the moment, I took her by both shoulders and directed her back up the stairs to the galley, where I knew as cook she would be most comfortable. I sat her down, then went to pour us both a cup of coffee. Looking at her sitting there, pale and shaking, I decided that perhaps coffee wasn’t enough, telling her to stay put I went in search of a blanket and some Kahlua to add to the coffee.
    I retraced our path up to the main salon and grabbed a bottle off the bar, then a blanket from the first guestroom I saw; as the bed was unmade I assumed it must be the Blackwoods. I returned and wrapped the cashmere throw around the girl’s shoulders and gave her the Kahlua coffee.
    After she had had a few sips with shaking hands and had started to regain some composure, I gently started to ask her questions.
    “Nancy…I’m Janeva; you were so kind to my daughter Katie when we here for dinner last night. I’m sorry—I don’t know you last name?”
    “Nancy… Nancy Fern.”
    “Where are you from, Nancy?”
    “Pensacola, Mississippi.”
    “So that explains your pretty accent, but wow, you are a long way from home,” I replied soothingly. “Is your family there?”
    This worked, and she told me about her mother who had raised her and her brother and her cat, the town and many other details of her life before she had joined this crew.
    “How old are you?” I finally managed to inquire as she took a sip of her coffee.
    “I just turned 21 last month.”
    “Have you worked on the Atlantis for long?” I asked, knowing that if I kept her talking, soon she would relax and the whole story would probably come pouring out.
    “Almost two years…. I really wanted to work on a cruise ship.” She paused. “My friend Mary and me… well, by the time we had saved up enough money waitressing to get us to Fort Lauderdale, all the cruise boats had left. Apparently the Caribbean season was done,” she sighed, “so I joined this boat as it had just come out of a