As a judge, a parking spot had been reserved for me at the park, a perk I really appreciated. The evening was warm but I had grabbed a white mohair wrap for later. The dinner dance was also being held outside, and as I hurried along the sidewalk, heels clicking, I heard the strains of “I Only Have Eyes for You” drifting from the music stage. The band must be warming up.
The models were getting ready in a large tent behind the catwalk stage, so I went there first. All was pandemonium inside, with people popping in and out of makeshift dressing rooms. I saw my grandmother’s hairstylist, Moriah, dashing around with a giant can of hairspray and a determined look on her face.
“Iris, there you are.” Bella checked off my arrival on her ever-present clipboard. “You can go ahead and take a seat onstage, if you want.” A gaggle of teens pushed past us with their garment bags, yelling to one another. “It’ll be a little quieter.”
“Okay,” I said. “See you soon.” I dodged a woman pulling a makeup case on wheels and got out of there. Bella had her work cut out for her, creating order out of that chaos. And she somehow would, I had no doubt.
Besides me, the fashion-show judges included Ian’s mother, Fiona Stewart; Zadie Morris; and Sophie, who looked great in a blue sheath dress with a matching bolero.
“Sophie,” I cried. “I didn’t know you were judging.” I hoped Jake would come tonight, and that they would finally make up and put the rest of us out of our misery.
She laughed. “I didn’t either. But someone dropped out and I was recruited. You know how hard it is to say no to Bella.”
“I sure do,” I said, pulling out a chair as I greeted Fiona and Zadie. We were seated behind a table at one side of the stage, where we would have an excellent view of the models. From here, we could also see the chairs filling up fast on both sides of the catwalk. “Looks like we’re getting a good turnout,” I said to Sophie.
“We are,” Sophie said. “I heard they sold out.”
“That’s great news.” Even though people could view the stage from different spots in the park, for a really good look they had to buy a ticket for a seat. Most people were happy to do so, since the five-dollar fee was benefiting the festival’s chosen charities.
Horatio Morris bounced up the side stairs to the stage. “I came to wish the judges well,” he said. “We’ve broken our funding goals this year by quite a margin.” Horatio was on the finance committee for the festival.
“We were just talking about that,” I said. “Awesome.”
“It sure is,” he said, bending to give his wife a quick kiss. “I’ll see you after. Save the first dance for me, dear.”
“You bet I will,” Zadie said with a laugh. “See you later.”
Before leaving the stage, Horatio came over and hunkered down beside me, his expression serious. “Remember the matter we were discussing the other day, at the Grahams?”
“I sure do.” Horatio had mentioned the biofuel investment Ruben was promoting, said he was looking into it.
Horatio pressed his lips together as if reluctant to say more. Then he sighed. “I hate to say this, and it’s for your ears only, but the proposal is far from solid. Another group of scientists is planning to process seaweed using an almost identical process they’ve already patented. The two are similar enough that there will probably be legal challenges for Ruben if he goes ahead.”
“Got it,” I said. Not that I was an expert in how technology start-ups worked, but whoever held patents held the power. Patent infringement was a big no-no. “Thanks for the info.”
He rose to his feet and tapped the tabletop. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Thought you should know.” He strode away with a wave.
Music blared as Bella and Rich walked out onstage. “Good evening, everyone,” Bella said into the microphone. “Welcome to the Blueberry Cove Fashion Show.” Spotlights danced across the stage as the music struck up again. The audience clapped and cheered.
I pushed thoughts of Ruben’s investment away and focused on my judging duties. It was showtime.
The fashion show was really fun, with great outfits in a number of categories. Models of all ages swung tennis rackets and golf clubs, carried tiny dogs in handbags, and clomped across the stage in hiking boots. Master of ceremonies Rich Hammond displayed a great sense of humor as he commentated, making the audience laugh. We tabulated votes, selected winners, and then it was time.
The band struck up “Under the Sea” as the other judges slipped off the stage and Bella motioned for me to come forward. Praying I wouldn’t trip and fall flat on my face in front of hundreds of onlookers, I picked my way across the stage to her side. The lights were blinding, preventing much of a view of the audience, but I did see Grammie right by the stage. She was holding Quincy, who was leashed. She’d said she might bring him. The sight of those I loved best gave me a huge boost, and I was able to smile into the bright void straight ahead.
“Don’t leave your seats yet,” Bella said. “We have a very special treat for you tonight. Our first annual Lobster Bib contest.” She paused for clapping. “As owner of Ruffles and Bows, which specializes in aprons, Iris kindly agreed to judge this portion for us. So please, sit back and relax.”
Then she handed the mic to me. Eek. “Hel … hello everyone,” I said, not used to hearing my voice boom out like that. “I’m so excited to be here.” As if agreeing, my voice rose to a squeak. “We’ve got some very creative entries tonight. These are not your mother’s lobster bibs, folks. So without further ado, let’s begin.”
There. I was done, for now. I handed the mic to Rich, who held a paper with information about our dozen entrants, and hurried back to my chair. A glass of water waited there for me, refilled by someone, and I took a sip. Then I almost spit out the water when the first competitor strolled onto the stage.
The contestant wore a huge stuffed lobster attached to her front, and even stranger, a hat shaped like a lobster’s head, antennas and all.
“Now that’s what I call a lobster bib,” Rich said, letting out a rolling chuckle. “Let’s give our first entry a big round of applause.”
The crowd went wild as each contestant strolled out onstage. The man who wanted electricity wore lights that flashed in the shape of a lobster. “Don’t try this at home,” Rich said, to laughs. Another woman’s bib apron was trimmed with mini lobster buoys, which was very cute, and the clown, at least I think it was him, wore a hazmat suit, complete with booties. Another wore a doctor’s mask and carried a scalpel. They were ridiculous and over the top and really fun.
After tabulating votes—the lighted outfit won hands down—and handing out prizes, my duties were finally done.
I was climbing down from the stage when one of the contestants approached. “I want you to have this,” she said, thrusting the lobster-buoy apron at me. “Maybe you can display it in your store.”
“Seriously?” I said. “A lot of work went into this.” It would go in the window on a mannequin, I decided, if she really wanted me to have it.
She nodded. “Yes, it’s a gift.” She started to back away. “And I love your store by the way. So glad you opened it.”
That was nice to hear. “Thanks,” I called. “Have a good night.” I glanced around the stage area, which was practically deserted. Everyone had moved over to the dinner tent. I didn’t want to carry the apron all night, so I decided to pop over to my car and leave it there. But before I went, I called Anton to tell him the latest about Ruben. He didn’t answer so I left a message. Maybe he was with Madison at the dance.
I skirted the festival grounds, now quiet, and headed to the parking lot. On the way there, I heard the throb of an engine down near the wharf. Only a few boats used that part of the harbor since the ferries docked at the wharf.
In the sodium glow of security lights I saw a lobster boat, one of the old-fashioned wooden ones. Like Patrick’s. But it was white, not pale green.
“Iris? Is that you?” a man’s voice said from up the path. “How are you tonight?”
Great. I recognized that accent. “Ruben,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
The professor sauntered out of the dark toward me, a big grin on his face. “I’m on my way to the dance.” He snapped his fingers, moving his hips back and forth. “Hoped I’d see you tonight.”
Oh, brother. “I have a boyfriend, Ruben. I thought you knew that.” I gestured toward the parking lot still a distance away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.”
In a flash, his friendly demeanor dropped. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice a snarl.
I yelped when I saw he had a gun, pointed right at me. “What are you doing?” My hands went up and my car keys and the apron fell to the pavement. Thankfully my tiny clutch, which held my phone and a lipstick, was in my pocket. Gotta love those pockets in ’50s dresses.
“Move,” he said, gesturing me down the path. “We’re taking a little ride.”
I moved as slowly as possible, trying to figure out how to get away from him. I thought of screaming, but he now had the gun jabbed right into my kidneys. A distance away at the park, the band struck up a lively swing tune with horns and drums. No one could hear anything over that.
“Iris?” A soft voice called behind me. “Wait up.” Heels clattered along the pavement. Oh no. Sophie.
“Welcome,” Ruben said. “Come along or your friend will die. Okay?”
Keeping the gun trained on our backs, he forced us to walk down to the waterfront, where the lobster boat still sat, engines running.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. Then I knew, the truth flashing over me like icy water. “You killed Hailey.”
“Keep moving.” He prodded me with the gun again, hard. Sophie whimpered. “And the little witch deserved it. Threatening to ruin me and all I’ve worked for.”
“But why go after me? I haven’t done anything.” I’d barely had a chance to digest what Horatio had told me about Ruben’s company, that it was on shaky ground.
“Craig Brady,” was his answer. “He warned me about your nosing around. About your attempts to drive a wedge between him and his aunt so he won’t get his due.”
Craig was a crook, complaining about me to try and justify how he was trying to cheat his elderly aunt. And so was Ruben. “You’re using technology from those other scientists, aren’t you? Your company is a fraud.”
Ruben laughed. “Amateurs borrow but professionals steal. Isn’t that the saying? Of course I used it, changed a few little minor details. Everyone does it.”
Next to me, Sophie stumbled and I saw how scared she looked. I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. We’d get out of this somehow. Failure is not an option. The thought of one of Grammie’s favorite sayings heartened me.
Surely people must be wondering where we were by now. Ian was expecting me to join him at dinner, for one thing. Horns blatted in the bandstand again and I tried to send him a telepathic message. Need you. Send help. If I could get to my phone somehow, I’d send a real message.
We went down the ramp to the lobster boat. “I’ve got a couple of passengers for you,” Ruben called.
Patrick stepped out from under the canopy, his grin wolfish. “Mission accomplished, huh? Climb aboard.”
Another figure ducked out from the shelter, and my heart sank. Theo. He was in this up to his eyeballs, obviously making a bad situation worse for himself.
I hesitated. Should we make a break for it? I could jump into the water and maybe Sophie could run … but the grip of Ruben’s hand on my arm defeated those thoughts. Patrick had gotten out of the boat and grabbed Sophie, and despite her struggles, he managed to push her over the gunwale. I was next, landing in a heap on my knees on the hard wood planks. I covertly patted my skirt, relieved that I still had my clutch, then crawled over to Sophie. She leaned against me and we huddled together.
The engines spooled up as Patrick backed away from the dock. With a spin of the controls, we were facing out into the harbor. “Next stop, Canada,” he called. Theo whooped.
They were taking us to Canada? But that spark of hope quickly died when Ruben spoke. “We have one stop to make first,” he said. “Two passengers are disembarking.”
Uh-oh. Sophie’s body went rigid. “You can’t kill us,” I said. “They’ll chase you down until you die.” I knew Anton would. My fingers curled into claws. Before things got that far, I would fight for my friend’s life. I wasn’t going down without a battle.
The men exchanged smug glances. “They won’t go after us,” Patrick said. “Not if it’s pinned on Jamaica.” He laughed. “She was so dumb to chase me down that day and beg me to come back to her. I said no, babe, that ship has sailed.” He puffed out his chest with a laugh. “And then she went and lied to the police about it.”
“Sweet, sweet Jamaica,” Ruben said. “She’s taking the big fall.”
Oh, Jamaica. But I’d been there, making a last-ditch effort for a relationship that truly shouldn’t be saved. She’d obviously been too humiliated to tell anyone, and backtracking on her alibi would only make her look guilty. But Jake had seen her, so it was sure to come out now, once—no, we couldn’t let that happen.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture my phone screen. Edging even closer to Sophie so they couldn’t see my movements, I slipped my fingers into the clutch and touched the screen. It wasn’t locked, thank goodness. But I really needed to look at it so I could send a text.
The boat rocked in the wake of a larger ship farther out, and that gave me an idea. With a groan I rolled over onto my stomach. “I feel sick. I always get so, so seasick.” So, so big a lie. I groaned again, more deeply this time, and began retching, my whole body convulsing.
“Don’t throw up on the deck,” Patrick said with alarm. “Do it over the rail.” We were out in the harbor now, far from the lights of shore.
“Okay,” I whimpered. “I’ll try to make it.” Gagging and retching, I crawled to the transom in the rear and leaned over the rail. My great acting job kept them all far away, I noticed with satisfaction. While I was curled over, still pretending to throw up, I slid my phone onto my lap. First I turned off the ringer. I didn’t want them to hear ringing if someone tried to call. I texted Ian and Anton. Send help. Patrick’s boat Jamaica’s seaweed farm Ruben gun. Without waiting for a reply, I put my phone on record and slipped it into my pocket. After retching a couple more times, I crawled back to Sophie.
“Ugh,” I said, making a show of wiping my mouth. “That was awful.” I almost laughed at how absurdly disgusted they looked. Thinking of my phone busily recording away, I said loudly, “So you’re taking us to Jamaica’s seaweed farm, I’m guessing.”
“Quit guessing,” Ruben said with a snarl. “And stop talking. You’re about the nosiest woman I’ve ever met.”
“You know, I really didn’t suspect you, Ruben,” I said, practically shouting his name for the phone’s benefit. Sophie threw me a strange look. “I thought Patrick killed Hailey. Or even Jamaica.” I looked at Theo. “Or you.” I knew there wasn’t much chance Ruben would have a change of heart and let us go even if he had jumped to conclusions falsely, but it was a worth a try. And oh, how I hoped someone would hear this someday.
Ruben chuckled, as if reminiscing. “It wasn’t really planned. I followed her out to the cliffs that morning to see if I could talk sense into her. But good luck with that. If I didn’t pay her a huge sum of money, she was going to blow the whistle to the other scientists and my investors. I couldn’t believe it. She was my top student and I even took her to a premier event at Chateau de Mount-Gauthier.” He pushed one palm forward. “So, pow. Over she went.”
Picturing the scene, my belly lurched, the feigned sickness about to become real. “And you pinned it on Lukas by using his jacket.” Maybe if it hadn’t gotten ripped, Ruben would have left it at the scene. Anything to point the finger at someone else.
“Why not?” Ruben said. “He didn’t like her either. If she didn’t get the fellowship, she was going to claim discrimination. She had a letter to the dean all drafted. I saw it when I searched her pack.”
I hated to say it, but Hailey really had gone to the dark side in her struggles to get ahead. Not that she deserved death for it, though. Maybe getting kicked out of school and a little jail time for attempted blackmail.
“She tried to blackmail me, too,” Patrick said, his tone heavy with disgust. “She was going to tell Jamaica my plans to push her out of the seaweed business. I planned to have Theo take over her lease.”
“Seriously, Theo?” Even I could hear the disgust in my voice. “You were helping these crooks?”
In response, Theo’s shoulders hunched and he looked scared. As he should. Sabotaging plants was one thing. Aiding and abetting our murders, quite another. Figuring he was the weakest link, I decided to try and break him.
Cliffs loomed out of the dark, which meant we were almost to Jamaica’s seaweed farm. I stared back at the harbor, praying that someone had gotten my text and was raising the alarm. My glance fell on a box of Patrick’s Seaseme Bars. “Can I have one?” I asked, pointing. “Theo, would you bring me one?”
He looked at Patrick, at the wheel, and at Ruben, sitting on a bulkhead with his gun. Patrick jerked his head in answer, as if telling Theo to go ahead. Bracing his legs against the movement of the boat, Theo went to the box of bars and pulled out a few. He brought them over to us.
When he handed me one, I took hold of it and whispered, “Help us.” I put everything into those two words, trying to convey that it wasn’t too late for him but soon would be.
He stared back at me with glassy eyes and I couldn’t tell if he got the message or accepted it. But I didn’t say anything further. I couldn’t, because Ruben was watching us. I ripped the wrapper and took a bite. Hmm. Not as bad as I expected. If I didn’t know there was seaweed in them, I wouldn’t be able to tell.
Lights moved across the water. Someone coming to help us or just random boats? I prayed it was help coming. Patrick cut the engine and we drifted, water lapping against the sides. Mooring balls floated in the water, marking the seaweed-growing area.
A tense silence fell over the boat. This was it, the moment when they disposed of inconvenient us. My mind whirled with possibilities for self-defense as I glanced wildly around the boat. We weren’t going down—literally—without a struggle.
Then Theo darted forward. What was he doing? Going after that oar to hit us? But instead he picked up a flare gun. With a loud bang, the gun went off, releasing a burst of orange light that could be seen for miles.
“What did you do that for?” Patrick left the wheel and launched himself on Theo, punching him. The two men, locked together, staggered back and forth. Ruben entered the fray, trying to help Patrick after Theo landed a good one on his jaw.
Sophie jumped up and ran to the wheel. Of course. She knew how to pilot a lobster boat, because of Jake. She throttled up the engines and took off toward the harbor, sending the men flying. Patrick and Theo fell to the deck, Patrick hitting his head hard. Theo managed to sit up, but blood was gushing from his nose.
Ruben pointed the gun at Sophie. “Stop, right now,” he ordered. I grabbed the oar and whacked him right in the back, hard enough that the gun flew into the air, over the side of the boat, and, plop, sank without a trace.
Ruben tried to pull Sophie away, so I hit him again. Another boat loomed up out of the night.
Jake and Ian, in Jake’s lobster boat. My heart stuttered then soared with joy and relief. I’d never been so glad to see anyone in my life. The two of them were tall and handsome and magnificent.
“Coast Guard and Marine Patrol are on their way,” Ian called. “It’s over.” As if underscoring his words, two other, much larger, boats came around the point. Jake cut his engine and brought his boat around alongside Patrick’s.
Ruben grabbed Sophie, his arm around her neck. “Let us go or I’ll hurt her.” When I waved the oar at him, he tightened his arm, making her choke.
Jake’s eyes frosted over. “It’s too late, Ruben. You’ll never get away. The Coast Guard is already in formation.” He reached under the console, where I knew he kept a shotgun. All the lobstermen did, in case they ran into trouble on the water. But the gun would be no use with Ruben using Sophie as a shield.
Then a familiar little orange face popped up over Jake’s rail. Quincy? What was he doing here? With a magnificent leap, he cleared the slice of open water and landed on our boat, then launched himself at Ruben, spitting, hissing, scratching, and snarling like a bobcat. With a shriek of pain, Ruben fell back, releasing Sophie. “Get him off me!” he shouted, putting his hands over his face as Quincy climbed him like a tree.
Holding a hand to her throat, Sophie snatched the key out of the ignition and threw it overboard. No one was going anywhere now.
“Iris!” Ian called. “Over here.” He stretched a hand to me and I clambered into Jake’s boat. He gathered me tight, his arms like iron bands around me. “I was so worried about you.” He swallowed audibly. “I thought”—his voice grew husky—“I thought I might have lost you.”
With my face mashed against his shirtfront, I murmured, “I take it you got my text?” I felt laughter rumble in his chest. Something soft brushed my calf. Quincy was back, his mission complete. He wound through our legs in a figure eight while purring up a storm. I picked him up and snuggled him between us, the three of us warm and safe.
“How did Quincy get here, anyway?” I asked. “Last time I saw him, he was with Grammie.”
Ian laughed. “While we were looking for you, he somehow got out of his harness and followed us. He found the apron you dropped, by the way, which was our first clue. Then somehow he sneaked onto Jake’s boat without us noticing him.”
“That sounds like him.” I kissed my cat’s head. “I love you both so much,” I whispered. Then I froze. Had I really said that out loud? So much for my resolve to stay in the slow lane this time. Ian hugged me harder but didn’t say anything. Maybe he hadn’t heard me.
The Coast Guard and Marine Patrol arrived right then with engines roaring, lights flashing, and orders shouted through bullhorns. Officers, including Anton, boarded Patrick’s boat, taking over from Jake, who was holding the trio of baddies at bay with his shotgun.
Sophie was seated in Jake’s captain’s chair, sipping from a bottle of water. Jake bent to put the gun away, then turned to his ex-girlfriend. I peeked at them, heart in my throat, as I waited to see what would happen next.
Jake gently took the bottle of water from her and set it aside. With a sob, he put his arms out, his chest heaving with emotion. Tears streamed down Sophie’s face as she threw herself into his arms. “I love you, Jake. Please forgive me.”
He bent over her, smoothing her hair with one large hand. “There’s nothing to forgive. It was all my fault.” He kissed her on the head. “I love you too, babe. It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.”
I glanced at my guys, who were also watching this touching reconciliation. It is going to be okay, I thought as I reached a hand up to Ian’s neck and pulled his lips to mine. It most certainly is.