Ryder had left early and I was closing up the shop on my own. It was especially quiet because Kingston was still at home. He normally kept me company with his chattering and the click clack of his talons as he followed me around on my closing routine. It had been a somewhat slow day, leaving me with only a few clean up chores. I thought about the case as I finished sweeping the floor.
Margaret and Kate both had motives, although, hardly strong ones. Lionel had not been in town long, so it wasn't as if either woman had dedicated years to the man only to discover his propensity for infidelity. While it was true that Kate tended to grow instantly attached to men, she also grew quite instantly unattached. With the exception of Dash, I'd never known her to pine for any of her ex-boyfriends. She usually moved enthusiastically on to the next guy with barely a flinch. But it was entirely possible that she felt strongly about Lionel. I didn't know her well enough, and we'd never been close friends.
I was deep in my thoughts, absently sweeping the floor, when sirens startled me out of my musings. I rested the broom against the wall and walked to the window. It seemed the activity was happening down at the beach. I popped my head outside. Several emergency vehicles were parked along Pickford Way. It seemed something had happened at the marina.
I raced around grabbing my coat and my keys. When I stepped out of the shop, I searched frantically for my car, only to remember that I had ridden my bike to work. Me and my brilliant ideas.
I hurried back inside, grabbed my bike from the hallway outside the office and rolled it out to the sidewalk. I climbed on and pedaled as fast I could toward the beach. My hands and face were frozen by the time I reached the wharf. Briggs' car was parked near the ambulance. I parked my bicycle and hurried along the wharf. Two paramedics were chatting casually as they pushed their gurney, filled only with their equipment bag, back toward Pickford Way. Either it had been a false alarm or they were not needed because it was too late.
I weaved through the curious onlookers standing in bunches at the entrance to the marina. I searched around for Briggs and spotted him climbing off the boat in the second to last slip. He was talking on the phone. Officer Chinmoor was standing in the middle of the dock keeping curious people from getting any closer to the police activity.
He waved me on. I stopped for just a second. "Officer Chinmoor, what's going on?"
"Murder victim on one of the boats," he said. "Gunshot."
I continued toward the scene and knew even before I reached the vessel that it was Funtasy.
Briggs hung up just as I reached him on the dock. "Looks like we have a second victim from the same killer."
I glanced toward the deck and caught only a glimpse of a high heel sticking out of the stairwell that led below deck. "Was it the woman we saw Lionel kissing? I recognize those high heels."
"Yes, we searched around and found a purse with identification." He pulled out a Washington driver's license with the woman's picture.
"Glenda Jarvis," I read. "Well, I was hoping to find out her name, but I certainly didn't want it to happen this way. So, you think it might be the same killer? I mean, I hope so. I'd hate to have to search for two murderers."
"Nate and his team are on their way. We'll need a lab report on the bullet, but the wound looks the same and she was shot at close range in the chest." Briggs motioned me to head over the gangplank to climb on board. He followed close behind. "From the position of her body, it seems the person might have been hiding below, waiting for the victim to head down the steps. She was shot and then fell forward."
We reached the narrow stairwell that led below deck. Glenda was face down sprawled on the steps. A stream of blood ran down the steps, pooling in front of the landing in a dark red puddle.
"The boat is registered to a Marco Plesser. He lived in Oregon, according to the registration," Briggs said.
I looked at Briggs. "Who on earth is Marco Plesser? This whole thing just keeps stretching farther and wider. Is it possible this person, Marco, discovered that Glenda was seeing Lionel, and they absconded with his nice boat? Then he tracked them down and killed them?"
"At this point, anything is possible."
The cold, wet mist over the marina was starting to seep into my bones. I curled my arms around myself for warmth.
"You should head home, Lacey. I know you rode your bike today. It's going to be dark soon. Or I could have one of the officers drive you home."
I shook my head. "No, you're all busy. I won't stay long." I stared down at poor Glenda, lifeless yet stiff, like a discarded mannequin. "Just a few days ago she was sitting out on deck sipping her pink cocktail and now she's dead. Did you get a chance to interview her?"
Briggs pulled out his notebook. "That was how I found her. I came here intending to ask her some questions about Lionel's murder. She was already dead. I think she's been dead for a good twelve hours, which would put her time of death sometime between two and five in the morning." Briggs turned to me. "Lacey, two victims means this person has no qualms about killing people—"
"I know what you're going to say and I'll be careful. I promise." I tapped my nose. "So, should I take Samantha for a spin?" My nose had its very own moniker, and I was quite fond of it.
Briggs smiled. "Wouldn't be a thorough investigation without that. But be careful. There's not a lot of room on the narrow steps."
He handed me some latex gloves, and I pulled them onto my cold fingers. "Someone needs to invent fleece lined latex gloves for cold weather."