20

My sister’s high-pitched scream shattered the silence. She stood motionless in the center of the dancers, clinging to Judd. He remained motionless, and every ounce of arrogance drained from his face. Beth’s screech precipitated a wave of noise from the cast and crew that ran the gamut from gasps to screams to disbelieving laughter.

Ignoring all of them, I lunged forward. I reached Lenny seconds after he’d collapsed under Theresa’s weight and a moment after the woman’s final death rattle. My assistant thrashed wildly under the confines of the body. I rolled Theresa off him and maneuvered her into the recovery position. No easy task with one hand, yet what I lacked in dexterity I made up for in determination.

I held my hand to her face. She wasn’t breathing. A strange smell emanated from her. Stale, acrid, bitter. I didn’t know what it reminded me of, but I’d remember that smell again. I began rescue breaths while loosening her bow tie to check for a pulse. One look at the woman’s blue-tinged lips told me not to expect to find one, but I had to be sure. I held my fingertips against her neck for several seconds. Nothing. Still, I knew from my first aid training that a weak pulse was notoriously hard to detect.

I ripped Theresa’s tuxedo jacket open and began chest compressions. “Call an ambulance,” I shouted over my shoulder, “and get the nurse. I can’t keep this up one-handed.”

Con Ryder cut a path through the throng, followed by Coco and Liam. I’ve rarely come across an appropriate moment to describe someone as looking ghastly. Still, it was the perfect description of Con’s current appearance. The director’s complexion was gray, and his skin seemed too loose for his face. “What happened?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Did she have an accident?”

His mention of an accident struck me as incongruous until I recalled the reason I was on Dolphin Island. “She’s ill, Con. This is no accident.”

Con spluttered protestations, but I ignored him and focused on Theresa. I didn’t hold out much hope that CPR would revive the woman, particularly my one-handed efforts, but I had to try. However loathsome Theresa was, she didn’t deserve to die.

In the background, Coco comforted Lenny, who was still in shock. I was vaguely aware of her helping my assistant to his feet and guiding him away from Theresa’s still figure. 

Liam came to a halt beside me. The incongruity of seeing him in his ridiculous frilly ball gown in a situation as serious as this struck me. He pressed buttons on his phone, and swore at the screen. “No service. Con, is there a landline in the castle?”

It took a second for the director to focus. “Uh, yeah. In the library.”

“Send someone to call emergency services.” Liam crouched beside me. “I’ll deal with Theresa, Maggie.”

“No, let me.” Melanie shoved her way through the crowd and dropped to her knees on the other side of Theresa. “Move aside, both of you. I’ve got this.”

Relief flooded through me. Before she’d become the manager of the Whisper Island Hotel, Melanie had worked as a nurse. I wasn’t fond of the woman, but I didn’t doubt her professional capabilities. Within seconds, Melanie had taken over the CPR. Her movements were strong and competent. I doubted my feeble efforts had helped Theresa, but I hated standing around and doing nothing.

“Has someone gone to call emergency services?” Liam glared at the crowd frozen around us. “I’ll take that as a no. Can I have a key to the library, Con?”

“No need for a key,” I said as he helped me to my feet. “The lock on the library door’s broken.”

“Okay. I’m on it.” Liam kicked off his high-heeled shoes and ran across the lawn to the castle.

Now that I was relieved of CPR duty, the pain in my wrist hit me with full force. I’d jogged my sling several times when I’d rolled Theresa off Lenny and started CPR. Tears stung my eyes but now was not the moment to give in to the pain. I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. I wasn’t due to take my next dose of meds for another hour, but I was tempted to ignore medical advice and knock one back now.

My preoccupation with my wrist ended when a breathless Brid Kelly shoved her way through the growing group gathered around Theresa. She clutched a medical kit, and Luke was hot on her heels, carrying a portable defibrillator.

“How is she?” Brid asked Melanie.

“Alive,” the other woman replied, “but barely. We need to get her to the hospital.”

“The coast guard is on the way,” Liam called, jogging across the lawn to join us. “ETA is in twenty minutes.”

The director staggered back as though only now comprehending the severity of the situation. “This can’t be happening. What was it? A heart attack?” He released a shuddery breath. “Yes, that must be it. She had a heart attack.” He seemed relieved at the prospect of one of his cast members succumbing to a cardiac arrest mid-dance.

I exchanged a significant look with Liam. “I don’t think it was an accident,” I whispered. “Did you see how she convulsed before she collapsed?”

Liam’s mouth set in a grim line. “I noticed. Does Theresa’s collapse have any connection to the job you were hired to do on Dolphin Island?”

After maneuvering Theresa, my sore arm throbbed. “I don’t know,” I said, gritting my teeth against the growing pain. “I don’t think so, but it’s one heck of a coincidence.”

“I have to secure the scene, and I need to get Hannah out of here.” His voice was taut, but the hand he placed on the small of my back radiated gentle warmth. “When I’m done, you and I need to have a talk.”

I scanned the sea of faces, including Con’s ever-present security team. Neither they nor I had prevented Theresa’s collapse. I had no idea if her illness was connected to the accidents, but it was time to tell Liam everything I knew. “Okay.” I let out a breath. “You need to talk to Con, too. He’s the one who hired me.”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “Con, eh? I assume Lenny’s working with you?”

“Yeah. We’re both here on the case.”

He nodded slowly, now fully in cop mode. “Okay. Give me a few minutes, and we’ll talk.”

When Liam left, I scanned the crowd. Hannah, Caoimhe, and Sammy tried to push through to get a look at the body, but Magnum held them back. After a heated discussion, the kids sulkily trooped to the cafeteria, and Magnum came over to join me.

“I expected the drama on the film set to stay fictional,” he said, grabbing two plastic chairs from a wedding table and setting them down next to me. “I never expected Theresa to pop off like that.”

“She’s not dead.” The “yet” lingered in the air, unspoken but understood. “Do you know her well?”

Magnum flopped onto one of the chairs. “Nah. We’ve moved in the same circles for years, but we were never friends.”

“You mean the food-trucking community?” I asked, slumping into the chair beside his.

Magnum shrugged. “That too.”

It took my pain-addled mind longer than usual to process the implications of Magnum’s response. “Wait… Are you saying you knew Theresa before she operated a food truck?”

“No. I knew her before I started my joint.”

“You ate at her place, got food poisoning, and decided you could do better?” I half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Sorry. I resort to humor when I’m stressed. How did you get to know Theresa?”

He tugged on the skin under one eye. “Let’s just say frying food isn’t Theresa’s only occupation.”

My senses perked up. “You want to expand on that statement?”

“No.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “You’re the detective, Maggie. Go detect.”

“No fair, Magnum. I’m in pain. I’m struggling to remember what day of the week it is. Detection is way beyond my capabilities.”

His deep chuckle strained his shirt buttons. “Exaggerating much?”

Not by much, unfortunately. I breathed through the pain and marshaled my thoughts to the best of my limited abilities. Magnum’s caginess and defensive use of humor were deliberate ploys to throw me off the scent but off the scent of what? His past? Theresa’s? Given his lack of affection for the woman, he wasn’t protecting her.

“When did you open Magnum’s?” I asked, trying another tack.

“Three years ago, right after I lost my job,” he said without hesitation. “I took one of those classes run by the employment office and decided to start my own business.”

“Do you operate the truck year-round, or just during the summers?”

His mustache drooped. “Just the time I spend each summer on Whisper Island.”

I itched to ask him what he did to earn money for the rest of the year, but I sensed the question wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, I flipped the conversation back to Theresa. “The seasonal food-trucker community seems pretty tight-knit. How does Theresa fit in?”

Magnum snorted with laughter. “She doesn’t. She’s part of it because she’s been around for years, but she’s not pally with anyone.”

I nodded. I couldn’t imagine Theresa coexisting peacefully in any community. “Does she have any health problems that you know about?”

“Do anger management issues count?”

It was my turn to laugh. “Not quite. I’m talking about heart problems, diabetes, that sort of thing.”

“Not that I know of,” he replied, “but we’re not exactly confidantes.”

“What about enemies? Did you know she was receiving death threats?”

Magnum tugged on his mustache. It was a tell I’d noticed in some criminals when they were evasive with the truth. “Is that a fact? She must’ve upset someone good and proper.”

“Any idea who that someone might be?”

“Could be anyone. Over the years, Theresa fell out with just about all the food truckers.” His eyes moved to the cafeteria tent. “I’d better check on the kids. I don’t trust Sammy not to get into mischief.”

I agreed with the man’s assessment of his son, but I was sure Magnum was merely looking for an excuse to avoid more of my questions.

He cast a last look at the crowd blocking Theresa from our view. “I don’t care for the woman, but I hope she’s okay.”

“The coast guard should be here soon. They’ll transport her to the hospital.” Whether hospital care would help Theresa was an open question. I very much feared it was too little, too late.

After Magnum left, I had nothing to distract me from my throbbing wrist. Now that I no longer needed to be in coping mode, the pain-shock combo hit me with the force of a falling sandbag. The lights, the people, the noise whipped around me like my own personal tornado. 

I didn’t notice I was falling off my chair until strong arms caught me and held me tight. 

“Whoa, there, Maggie,” Liam said. “Now’s not the time to swoon.”

“I never swoon,” I said, indignant through the haze of pain.

He swept me up into his arms and carried me past a sea of curious faces. Groggy and nauseous, I closed my eyes to block them from my consciousness and pressed my face into the lace bodice of his dress. “See? I said you were my knight in shining satin.”

Liam’s laugh ruffled my hair. “Do you have the key to your tent? You need to lie down.”

“Maggie can use my room.”

A familiar voice. Beth? I opened one eye. My sister’s face was pinched with worry.

“Where’s your room?” Liam didn’t slow his pace, forcing Beth to jog to keep up with his long strides. I hadn’t checked his feet, but I assumed he was still in his stockings.

“It’s on the top floor of the East Tower. Will you be able to carry her all that way?”

“Jeez. I’m not that heavy,” I retorted, even though the same thought had crossed my mind seconds earlier.

Sensing my irritation, Liam gave me a reassuring squeeze. “I can manage just fine. We’ll save time if you come with us and open the door.”

“Of course. The key’s in a hidden pocket in my dress.” Beth’s anxious eyes met mine. “What happened to Theresa? Was it a heart attack?”

“I’m no doctor,” I said, “but it didn’t look like a regular heart attack to me.”

“I agree.” Liam’s expression turned grim. “I need to find out more about the woman. I’m hoping Maggie can help.”

“I’m not sure I have the brainpower to help anyone, but I’ll try.”

Before we reached the castle, Liam asked, “Which one is your tent? We can grab your stuff before we take you up to Beth’s room.”

I pointed at mine. “It’s the one next to the porta-potties.”

My sister had the good grace to look ashamed. “Give me the key to the tent. I’ll go in and pack Maggie’s things.”

“Shouldn’t take you long. The only items I took out of my case were the absolute essentials.”

Sure enough, it didn’t take Beth long to throw my belongings back into my case and join us outside. With Beth lugging my case and Liam carrying me, we reached the castle. Gone was the security guard who usually guarded the entrance. They’d all responded to the commotion of Theresa’s collapse and the ensuing pandemonium. Beth held the door open for Liam, and he carried me over the threshold.

“Down here,” she said, leading us into the narrow corridor to the left of the ballroom.

The corridor ended in a winding staircase that snaked up the East Tower. Presently, we reached the top landing. My sister stopped in front of a wooden door next to an arrowslit window. She withdrew a key from underneath her dress and unlocked the door.

Inside, the room was dominated by a four-poster bed. The decor was late medieval, but the en-suite bathroom was the epitome of modern plumbing.

Liam laid me gently on the bed and removed my shoes.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my eyes growing heavy with weariness.

“Before you get your beauty sleep, can you give me a short rundown of why you’re on Dolphin Island?” Liam shot a glance at Beth.

“She knows.” The floating sensation made it hard for me to focus. “Con hired me to investigate a series of suspicious accidents on the set.”

“I’m the target,” my sister interjected. “Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

I closed my eyes briefly, relishing the soft pillow beneath my head. “I’m not so sure. Gretchen—” I caught Liam’s question from his expression, “—she’s one of the professional dancers—was the target of the ballroom incident. Someone deliberately put Pledge on a specific area of the dance floor, causing Gretchen to slip and injure her foot.”

Beth pursed her lips. “That was only to make it look like I’m not the real target. Whoever’s doing this is clever.”

I met Liam’s gaze. “Beth and I will have to agree to disagree.”

“Can you give me a brief overview of the other suspicious incidents?” he asked.

I filled him in on what I knew so far, omitting speculation about Judd and Con and Judd’s argument with Merry. I’d wait until my curious sister was out of earshot before telling Liam about my suspicions that Judd had influence over Con.

When I’d finished, Liam was silent for a moment, deep in thought. “Thanks, Maggie. We can talk more tomorrow. You look done in.” He turned to Beth. “Will you help her change into her nightclothes? I need to get back to Theresa and the others.”

“Sure.”

“Just help me get my jeans off and remove my sling,” I mumbled through my ever-thickening brain fog, “I don’t need to wear it at night, just the wrist brace.”

Liam brushed my cheek with his lips. “Sleep well, Maggie. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, fighting sleep.

I barely noticed him leave the room. Beth wasted no time in removing my jeans and my sling. She poured me a glass of water from a bottle on her bedside table and handed me a painkiller.

“Thanks.” I popped the tablet into my mouth and washed it down with sparkling mineral water. “I hope I’m not taking up too much space. You can pull me further over to the edge of the bed if you want.”

“Take all the space you need, Maggie. I’ll sleep in your tent tonight.” She grimaced. “It’s the least I can do for getting you into this mess.”

“Not your fault Theresa got sick.”

“No, but you’re not feeling well.” Beth bit her lower lip and looked down at me with anxious eyes. “I should’ve insisted Con talk to Liam instead of hiring you.”

I must look like hell if my sister was showing concern. “No worries. I was grateful for the job. I need the money.” I slurred my words, the exhaustion threatening to suck me into a vortex of oblivion.

Beth hovered by my bedside, uncertainty written across her pretty face. “I’d better let you sleep. Talk in the morning, Maggie.”

“Uh-huh.”

The world whirled around me. I couldn’t have kept my eyes open if I tried. On the periphery of my consciousness, a detail nagged. I’d seen or heard something relevant this evening, a detail my brain wouldn’t process. Colors swirled through my mind in a wild, dancing spectrum. Something about the marquee tent. The sound of a spoon clinking against a glass. Braying laughter. What was I missing? Still struggling to make my brain connect the dots, I fell into a deep sleep.