Chapter 16
Cora nearly swooned when she entered the Drunken Mermaid. The scent of garlic, onions, and rosemary wafted toward them.
“Table for two. Adrian Brisbane,” Adrian said, as he walked up to the host.
The eyes of the eaters followed Cora and Adrian as they were seated. Was it because they were a couple of tourists at a restaurant frequented by locals? Or was it that Adrian was so tall and gorgeous? Cora wondered.
“It smells fabulous in here,” Adrian said.
“I know, right?” Cora said. The delicious aromas alerted every one of her senses.
“That’s him. I know it is,” came a voice across the dining room.
Cora strained to see what was going on. She didn’t see anything but a group of people sitting at a large table in the corner. The restaurant was dimly lit.
Their server came up to the table with the menu and wine list.
Cora glanced over the menu. Italian seafood. Shrimp scampi—yes, that was what she wanted.
“Goddamnit!” The male voice came across the room again. “Let me go. I want a word with the bastard!”
Now the other eaters were agape as several servers ran to the area, and a manager as well.
“What’s going on?” Cora said, looking around the place.
“I have no idea,” Adrian said, and sipped his water. “But I’m hungry and would like to order.” He grinned, revealing his deep dimple.
“Me too,” Cora said.
But as soon as the words came out of her mouth, a strange, wild-eyed man ran to their table. And the next thing Cora knew, other men were trying to hold him back. Cora’s heart raced. What could he possibly want with them?
Adrian turned his head and started to rise from his chair. “What—” he began to say, but the man tore away from the servers trying to hold him back and he lunged at Adrian, who fell to the floor as his chair tumbled.
The man pummeled Adrian, his fist coming down on his face.
Several onlookers gasped and screamed.
Cora stood and edged her way in between the men who were trying to grab Adrian’s attacker and yanked the guy by his hair.
“Ayyy!” he yowled.
She straddled him and wrapped her arm around his neck and squeezed.
“Call the police, you idiots. Don’t just stand there!” she cried.
“They’re on their way,” a server said.
“Let me up!” the man said.
“Not on your life,” she said. “Are you okay, Adrian?”
“I think so,” he said. “I’m a little squished. But I’m okay.” He was still underneath the crazed man whom Cora was straddling.
“What the hell, lady?” the man said to her. “Why are you helping a murderer?”
“What?”
“He killed my Marcy!” the man said.
“It’s okay, miss, we’ve got the situation under control,” a newly arrived uniformed officer said as he pulled her from the man, with a not-quite stifled grin.
“Adrian didn’t kill anybody,” Cora managed to say, though her chest felt as if it were on fire and there was a lack of oxygen in the room.
“You’re crazy to be involved with him!” the man said.
“Can we please calm down?” the officer asked.
“Yes, please,” the manager said. “Let’s take this into my office, now.”
Another officer helped Cora pull Adrian to his feet. His nose was bloody and his left eye was swelling already.
“Your eye! How awful!” Cora said, and pulled a napkin from the table, wiping his face.
“Attractive, right?” Adrian winced.
“Let’s go into the office, please,” the officer said. Cora and Adrian followed.
He looked sheepishly at Cora. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
She tried to smile but couldn’t. Her mind was trying to catch up with what her body had done. Trying to make sense of what had happened. That man thought Adrian had killed Marcy. That man must be . . . must be . . . Her head was swimming and she dizzied. He must be Marcy Grimm’s husband.
Adrenaline coursed through her. Did he believe Adrian killed his wife?
Why?
What was going on here?
The group of them entered the small office.
“I think we need a medic,” the officer said.
“We told you it was not a good idea to go off the resort,” the other officer admonished Adrian.
“He’s done nothing wrong,” Cora said. “Why should his movements be curtailed while we’re here? I don’t understand.”
Her eyes skimmed the room as the men took her in. She was certain she was a mess, but she didn’t care.
“Are you okay?” the manager said to the man who attacked Adrian.
Cora studied him. The man was certainly not okay. His wild-eyed bearing and dark hair contrasted against his sickly pallor. Yet, he was strong and had knocked Adrian right down. She guessed he was about her age. His eyes were circled and swollen. A brief pang of sorrow and regret moved through Cora. Grief did strange and awful things to people.
The door opened. An imposing woman entered the room. “What a scene,” she said. “Son”—she turned and looked at him—“we’re going home. Adrian, I think you should go back to the resort and stay there. Marcy Grimm was a popular person on this island and we all want her death avenged.”
She took in Cora. “And I don’t know who you are, lady, but great moves.”
Cora extended her hand. You always catch more flies with honey than vinegar, she heard her grandmother’s voice say in her head. “Why, thank you. I’m Cora Chevalier, one of the teachers at the craft retreat. And I’m Adrian’s girlfriend.”
The woman cupped both of her hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rue Dupres. I’m sorry for my son’s behavior, but he’s grieving.”
“What exactly happened here?” the officer said. “I need statements from everybody.”
“Come now, officer. We all know what happened. Let’s call it a day, shall we?” Rue said.
“Adrian? Would you like to press charges?” the officer asked.
“Yes, I think I would,” he said, and he turned to Cora. “Can you please call my lawyer?”
“Why would you do that?” Rue said.
“I was attacked. I want it on record,” Adrian said. “I’m a person of interest in a murder case. And I think it’s better safe than sorry. I’m sorry. I realize he’s grieving. But I didn’t kill her and I won’t be treated as if I did.”
Cora dialed Cashel’s phone number on her cell phone.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
When Cashel walked into the room, he was all business. Gone was the goofy, moody man annoying everybody. Cora sat next to Adrian, who held an ice pack to his swollen eye.
They were at the local police station—the restaurant manager having politely asked them to leave. Cora and Adrian were in a separate room from Josh and his mother, Rue.
“What have you gotten yourself into?” Cashel said, and flung his briefcase on a table.
They recounted the story.
Cashel sat down. “I advise you not to press charges. The man is bereft. He thinks you killed his wife. It might be considered a goodwill gesture for you to drop it.”
“Or an admission of guilt,” Adrian said.
“No, I don’t think so,” Cashel said, glancing at Cora, back to Adrian. “But suit yourself.”
Adrian turned to Cora. “What do you think?”
“I can see both points of view,” Cora said after a moment. “Cashel, you should have seen Josh. He was like a madman. I can see why Adrian is concerned. But a big part of me agrees with Cashel. It does you no good to press charges. Let’s stay at the resort, mind our own business, and then go home.”
“Except that I can’t go home,” Adrian said, lifting up his arm.
Cora’s empty stomach went sick. “I know, but I’m sure by Monday they will let you go.”
“Not until they recognize he didn’t commit the crime,” Cashel said.
“Can’t you do something about that?” Cora asked.
“It was part of our bargain. He wanted out. The only way they’d let him out was with that bracelet.”
The room quieted. Cora’s mind was reeling. She needed food. She needed out of this place. And she needed Adrian to be free.
“Well then,” she said. “We’ll have to find the real killer.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Adrian said.
“We’re going to need to prove your innocence and the best way to do it is to find the person who killed Marcy,” Cora said.
“I was afraid you might get some crazy ideas,” Cashel said. “You need to stop with your meddling before it gets out of control.”
“Yeah, Cora, it might backfire. You’re not a cop. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Adrian said.
“You both are aware I can take care of myself,” she said.
“Don’t you have some quilt to make?” Cashel said, with a note of sarcasm.
“I don’t quilt, Cashel,” she said back to him. “Though it is a goal of mine.”
“You know what I mean,” he said. “You’re here to teach classes, not mess around in police business.”
She decided to keep her thoughts to herself. What Cashel didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Adrian was another matter. She needed to find out more about Marcy. If she had learned anything in the past, it was most murder victims knew their killers. Usually, if it was a woman, husband, boyfriends, and lovers were at the top of the suspect list. Which meant Josh was also under suspicion—maybe that’s why he’d had such a violent reaction to Adrian. Maybe he killed her and desperately wanted the police to think otherwise.
“Cora!” Cashel said, awakening her from her daydream.
“Yes?”
“I want your word that you won’t mess about in this case. You could screw things up for Adrian,” he said.
She reached over and placed her hand on Adrian’s. “I wouldn’t want that,” she said.
“Your word,” Cashel said.
Cora answered him with silence.
“Can we please leave?” Adrian said. “I hate this place. And I’m starving. Cora and I were going to have a romantic dinner and boom, I was attacked.”
“Mom and Jane have that taken care of for you. Just check in with the concierge and room service will be brought up to you immediately,” Cashel said. “They figured you hadn’t eaten.”
A wave of gratitude swept over Cora.
“You don’t have to make up your mind immediately about pressing charges. You have some time. I suggest you give it some thought,” Cashel said.
“Okay, that’s what I’ll do. I want it on record. You know what happened. The man has a dangerous temper,” Adrian said.
“Exactly my thoughts,” Cora replied.
Cashel stood. “What?” He eyeballed Cora sideways.
“Never mind,” she said. Josh was at the top of her list for suspects. After seeing the way he attacked Adrian, she thought him certainly capable of murder. But why would he kill Marcy on their wedding night?