CHAPTER SIX
Anna
Acrowd has gathered near the water’s edge, staring down into the inky sea. We had planned for fireworks out on the back lawn as a highlight of the evening, but our guests have gathered here before the festivities were set to commence, no doubt drawn to the screams as I was.
Michael stands behind me, and I scan the crowd looking for my husband, searching for the source of all the commotion.
“Do you see Robert?” I ask Michael.
“No. Stay here, though. I’ll see what’s going on.”
The guests have seemingly moved closer to the water, to where Marbrisa meets Biscayne Bay.
Where is Robert?
I look for a familiar face now that Michael has gone off, but I see no one I recognize, all these people strangers to me.
“What has happened?” I ask the woman standing next to me, feeling a bit like a guest at my own party.
“I’m not sure. I just followed everyone out here. Perhaps it’s some planned entertainment,” she adds, her voice filled with excitement.
If it is, it’s something I’m certainly not privy to, but then again, it’s entirely possible that my husband has a surprise or two up his sleeve. I open my mouth to tell her so, when I spy him, walking away from the water.
Robert.
I push my way to the front, heart pounding, relief filling me.
I freeze mid-step.
He looks—wrong, somehow. He’s wearing an expression I’ve never seen on him before in all these years of marriage.
“What’s happened?” I ask him.
His face is white as a sheet. “One of the guests. A woman. She fell into the bay.”
I gasp.
I move forward and glance over his shoulder.
A body lies in the grass.
I take a step closer, my mind protesting the scene before me even as my feet carry me forward.
The woman rests on the ground, her dark hair wet and tangled around her. Her skin is pale in the moonlight.
It’s warm out, but how cold is it in the water? And how long was she in there?
Her gown pools around her, the color nearly blending with the dark earth.
A memory comes to me, the deep purple color recognizable. It’s the woman I saw earlier after I descended the staircase. The snake necklace is still wrapped around her neck.
I take a step forward to offer my assistance. Suddenly, Robert is at my elbow, pulling me back.
I whirl around to face him.
“Is she alright?” I ask. “Is there a doctor here? Should we call someone to help her?”
He swallows. “It wouldn’t do any good. She’s dead.”
“What?” I struggle to turn around and sneak another look at the woman in question, but he holds on to me, and it isn’t until I feel my legs giving way beneath me that I realize he’s keeping me from falling to the ground.
I glance back at Marbrisa, the lights blazing inside, the sound of raucous laughter carrying outside.
Some of the guests have clearly come to Robert’s aid, struggling to form a perimeter to hold the curious onlookers at bay.
“What happened?” I ask again.
Robert shakes his head, looking as shocked as I feel. “I don’t know. I saw her earlier strolling near the water, but I didn’t think anything of it. She was hardly the only guest to want to enjoy the view.” He’s silent for a moment. “There’s been a great deal of drinking tonight. Perhaps she got too close to the edge and lost her footing.”
“How awful.”
Tears fill my eyes. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible. It’s our house, our party. Not to mention, this is the second person now that we’ve lost to the bay.
“Was she alone when it happened?” I ask.
It’s so crowded tonight. How did no one see her go into the water? How did no one help her?
“I have no idea,” he answers, his voice grim. “I came out when I heard the screams. One of the guests was walking by and saw her floating in the water.”
“We need to go for help. Should we call the police? What can I do?”
“One of the guests is already taking care of it. I’ll speak to the police,” Robert replies. “You go up and rest. You needn’t concern yourself with this terrible business.” He glances to a spot over my shoulder. “Michael, will you take her up?”
Michael steps forward, coming to stand at my side. I didn’t even realize he’d come back.
“Of course.”
Robert strides away from me quickly, taking charge of the situation like he always does.
Michael offers his arm, but I shake my head. “I’m alright. Just shaken a bit, I suppose. That poor woman.”
It seems too horrible to voice aloud the thoughts coursing through me—what was it like for that poor woman in the water? How long was she in there? Did she cry out for rescue, her words carried on the wind not to be heard over the sound of the band? My mind tumbles down all sorts of possibilities with macabre ease.
“Someone will have to tell her family,” I say. “Was anyone with her tonight?”
We received a few visitors when we first arrived at Marbrisa, mainly the wives of friends and business associates of Robert’s, but I put little effort into getting to know my neighbors, reluctant at this point in my life to start forging new friendships, making new connections. I did all that in my younger years, when I was a new bride learning how to build a marriage, and now I find the whole process of socializing rather exhausting, like a game I’d rather sit and watch from the sidelines.
“I believe she came here alone,” Michael replies.
“Did you know her?” I ask him.
He’s pale, just like Robert was, and given what he told me about fighting in the Great War and his manner when he said it, the tension in his body, the way he looked past me rather than at me as though he was haunted by something I couldn’t see, I worry this has dredged up memories of death.
He hesitates. “I saw her around at parties and that sort of thing.”
There are so many people here tonight, some with official invitations, many others likely gate-crashing, eager to catch a glimpse of Marbrisa. I’m not sure which category this woman belonged to.
“I saw her earlier. In the ballroom.” I take a deep breath, surprised at how shaky my voice is.
Michael says nothing as we walk toward the main house. A couple of times, I stumble in my heels on a piece of uneven terrain, and he reaches out, steadying me.
Here I was worried about him, and he’s the one taking care of me.
“Do you need a moment?” he asks me, concern in his gaze. “Before we go back in the house?”
I take a deep breath, realizing that news of the poor woman’s drowning is likely to spread to the rest of the party soon, and no doubt it will become a spectacle for anyone looking to seize on the latest piece of gossip.
“Perhaps.” I try to calm my racing heart. “It won’t help the situation if I go in there looking a fright and rile everyone up.” I glance back at where Robert stands talking to some of the guests, the woman lying on the ground beside them.
“Maybe I should go up and get a sheet or something to cover her,” I murmur to Michael.
It feels wrong to leave her exposed like this for people to gawk over.
We don’t even know her name.
“I can get something,” he replies. “I told Robert I’d take you up to your room so you could rest.”
“It’s alright. I promise I’m not that fragile. You have more than discharged your duty to the Barnes family. It just caught me off guard. First that poor man drowns during the construction, and now this.”
It’s beginning to feel like Marbrisa is cursed.
Hours later, the guests long gone, Robert still hasn’t come upstairs to our rooms.
I walk over to the window, pulling back the curtain, and stare below. Flashlight beams illuminate the ground, some of the officers that were called to assist with the accident still on the property.
I’m surprised they’re still here, honestly, considering this is hardly a mystery to be solved. It’s a tragedy that the woman fell into the water, but I’d think it was a cut-and-dried nasty business.
Finally, I can’t take the suspense anymore, and I change out of the robe I slipped on earlier into a simple dress and head downstairs.
When I reach the base of the stairs, the main entryway is filled with people milling about, the woman lying on a metal stretcher, her body partially covered with a white sheet.
A man in a fedora stands near her, a small notepad and pen in hand, jotting down some notes as he leans over her.
Death has settled over her face now, her body—
I don’t realize I’ve gasped aloud until the man jerks his head up, his gaze connecting with mine.
I reach out, gripping the banister to steady myself.
Something nags at me, a thought that comes to me quickly and is gone as soon as it arrives. Hours ago, I stood at the bottom of this same staircase and saw the woman alive. Now—
“I’m sorry.” I feel as though I’m babbling, the shock of seeing her like this—hours ago, she looked peaceful, almost, but the change is noticeable, and suddenly, my head spins from the champagne I’ve consumed, from the horror of everything that has happened. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The man shakes his head. “It seems I’m the one who startled you. You must be Mrs. Barnes. I’m Detective Pierce. Sorry if we disturbed you. Your husband was insistent that we didn’t, but police work isn’t exactly a quiet business.”
“It’s fine.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly wishing I’d grabbed a shawl when I came downstairs. Despite the normally warm climate, it feels cold in this house, the woman’s body lying just feet away.
“Do you know who she is?” I ask the detective.
It feels strangely intimate to see her in such a state when I have no idea what her name is.
“Her name is Lenora Watson. Some of the other guests identified her.”
Lenora.
“Have you told her family?”
“We’re in the process of notifying her next of kin. We’re still trying to figure out what happened here.”
“She fell into the water.”
That’s right, isn’t it? That’s what Robert said earlier, at least. There’s something sharp about Detective Pierce, a rapid-fire impatience that has me feeling as though I am several steps behind him, my brain like the muck at the water’s bank.
I blink, a memory flitting through my mind again and then escaping as quickly as it came.
“I’m sorry—I’m—I’m not myself today.”
It seems unwise to admit a flaw in front of this man; he gives the impression that he is eager to seize on any such imperfection and make the most of it for his own means.
“That’s understandable given all that has transpired this evening. Were you there when it happened, Mrs. Barnes?”
I shake my head, feeling a bit like a marionette, as though I am floating above my body, watching this entire precarious scene unfold. I wish that I had waited until the police were gone to come downstairs, that I could have postponed this entire business until tomorrow morning when I was more collected and poised for the inevitable questions that would come my way.
“No, I was inside the house. I had been talking to our architect, Michael Harrison. I heard the screaming and went outside to see what had happened.”
“Were you with your husband as well?”
“No, Robert was with our guests.”
“Do you remember who?”
“No. It was a big party. To be honest, they were all more Robert’s guests than mine. As soon as we arrived, everyone wanted to speak with him about the house, to congratulate him on his triumph.”
“And you didn’t want to be congratulated?”
There’s a touch of irony in his voice when he asks the question.
“No—I—I didn’t do anything. I didn’t build the house.”
Detective Pierce doesn’t say anything, but the expression flits across his face just the same—
Neither did your husband. He just paid the bills.
I can read the contempt in his eyes and on his face as surely as if he had just voiced the thought aloud. I wonder if he came here from elsewhere like we did, or if he grew up in Miami, if he views us as moneyed interlopers intent on transforming the hometown he knows and loves into something unrecognizable.
“It’s some house,” he drawls.
I open my mouth to defend Robert, all of us. I realize how this must look—this ostentatious mansion, this decadent party brimming with champagne and jewels, the dead woman—
I open my mouth to—
Her necklace is gone.
I blink, trying to remember—was she wearing it earlier? Or was it my imagination? Did I see it because I expected it to be there?
No, it was there when they pulled her out of the water, I’m certain of it. Did the police take it?
“She was wearing a necklace. Did you remove it from her?”
Detective Pierce glances down at the body and back at me. “What do you mean she was wearing a necklace? How do you know?”
“I saw her wearing it earlier at the party.”
“I thought the two of you had never met.”
“We hadn’t—I—”
“Your husband told me you had never met.”
“We hadn’t. I just noticed her wearing the necklace. We saw each other in passing before she drowned.”
His gaze narrows. “You just said that most of the guests were your husband’s, implied that you didn’t know anyone very well, and yet, I’m to believe that your path just happened to cross with a woman who ended up dead less than what—an hour later?—and she left such an impression that you remembered the jewelry she was wearing?”
“I don’t know what you’re meant to believe, but it’s the truth. I remembered the necklace because it was beautiful, distinctive.”
I don’t add the rest—that I remembered her in part because of how much she studied me and my own ensemble. It seems disrespectful to point out that aspect of her behavior.
“Did she say something to you?” Detective Pierce asks.
“No. It was a moment. Our gazes met and I noticed her dress and necklace. I thought she looked lovely.”
“When?”
“What?”
“When did you see her?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly keeping track of the time. It was not long after we arrived downstairs.”
He jots something down in his little notebook before turning his attention back to me.
“Was she with anyone when you saw her? Talking to someone, perhaps? Arguing with someone?”
“No. I don’t know. I really didn’t notice her enough to take in all that. It was a few seconds at most.”
“Did she seem upset?”
“I don’t think so.” I wrack my brain, trying to remember that moment. I was so happy that Robert was finally relaxing, getting the credit he was due. And then I saw Michael and we began talking—
“Did she seem like she’d had too much to drink?” the detective asks me.
“Not that I could tell. But I’ll be honest, I interacted with her so little, I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask. There were probably people here who spent more time with her than I did.”
“What was the necklace like?”
I blink again, trying to keep up with his questions. It’s late, and a slight ache is forming in my head from the champagne I drank earlier.
“It was a snake. That was why I noticed it. It was unique. Beautiful. The snakeskin was encrusted with jewels.”
“Encrusted with jewels?” He arches a brow, a low whistle escaping from his lips. “Sounds expensive.”
“If it was real, yes, I imagine it would have been.”
“Do you think it was fake?”
I shrug helplessly. “I have no idea. I’m hardly a jeweler. She wouldn’t have been the first woman to wear paste.”
“Do you wear paste?”
He throws the question out there like a challenge, and I get the sense that he’s trying to convict me of something, but of what, I have no idea.
I scan the room for Robert, wishing he would come sort everything out, that the officers would leave and take Lenora’s body with them.
“No—I—my husband—”
“Can I help you with something, Detective?”
I turn at the sound of Michael’s voice, more grateful to see him than I’ve ever been.
Michael walks up and stands next to me.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice low.
I nod. “Where is Robert?”
“He’s outside dealing with some matters.” Michael turns his attention toward the detective. “Are you all almost finished here?”
Surprise fills me at the hostility in his voice, the way he positions his body so he’s slightly in front of me, between me and the detective. They’re of a similar age, but the detective is broader of shoulder and an inch or two shorter.
I can’t help but wonder if Detective Pierce served in the war as well—there’s something military-like in his precise bearing.
“Not quite,” Detective Pierce answers, a faint smile playing at his lips as though he’s amused by the whole business, unfazed by Michael.
There’s a crashing noise somewhere behind me.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.
The woman’s bloated face and mottled skin stare back at me, the markers of death now burned in my brain.
I open my eyes.
Michael seems to be similarly affected, his gaze averted from the body as well.
“Get Robert. Please,” I murmur to Michael.
Surely, there’s nothing to stop the police from taking the woman’s body now. I want them out of my house, want things to go back to normal, want to sleep off this nightmare.
“If you need anything from us, we’re happy to help, but it’s getting late,” I say. “Surely, this business can wait until the morning.”
“I don’t think it can,” Detective Pierce answers.
“I applaud your dedication, Detective, and this was a tragedy,” I reply. “But I hardly see what else there is to discuss. Accidents happen.”
Detective Pierce smiles, but there’s no humor in it.
“Who said this was an accident?”