Kate stood and put the book in the bag that held Bronte’s things. “Boy, Liz, you’re sure anxious for a new companion.”
Liz prodded Kate toward the exit, noticing Brittany watching them with a strange look on her face. Liz hoped it had nothing to do with what Liz had just realized. When Brittany had made fun of Kate with her “crazy” gesture, there on her right hand was the same ring Regina Harrington-Worth had been wearing the night Liz had brought her husband’s suitcases up to the Oceana Suite.
Once outside, Kate said, “Okay, okay. What’s the rush?”
Liz kept her mouth shut about Regina’s ring. She knew Kate too well. If she told her, Kate would charge back inside and read Brittany the riot act. “I’m just anxious to get Bronte settled.” Then she told Kate about Iris Kimball’s arrest.
“Wow,” Kate said. “I never saw that one coming. I mean, she really is a sourpuss and all, and knowing about Iris’s mother’s situation, I guess it’s a possibility she even murdered Regina.”
“Aunt Amelia doesn’t believe it. She’s hired my father to be Iris’s lawyer.” Liz wanted to add, Now that I’ve seen Brittany with Regina’s ring, it will play to Iris’s advantage.
Kate opened the passenger door to the Caddy and put the bag of Bronte’s things on the floor. Liz placed the basket on the seat and said to Bronte, “We’ll be home in three minutes.” She adjusted the seat belt diagonally across the basket in case she had to stop short for a crab, turtle, or armadillo crossing the road. She shut the door, then hurried to the driver’s side and got in. Kate came over to the driver’s window and yelled through the glass, “Text me if you hear anything. I have to get back inside. Ryan’s stopping by to help me anchor my canoe to the wall.”
If Liz attempted to manually roll down the Caddy’s window, nine times out of ten, it would get stuck halfway. “Fun times,” she shouted back.
“You know it!” Kate said, completely missing Liz’s sarcasm.
When Liz returned home, she retrieved Bronte from the front seat. Cradling the basket in her arms, she walked up the steps onto the deck. She opened the French door and went inside. Glancing down at the tiny furball, she knew she’d done the right thing. Bronte hadn’t mewed once on the way to the beach house. Liz said, “I won’t let you down, little one. I promise.”
She placed the basket near the sofa and went out to the car for the rest of the kitten’s things. When she came inside, Bronte was perched on the cushioned window seat looking out at the ocean. Liz took a mental snapshot. Could there be a more tranquil, soothing picture than a kitten, a window seat, and the sea? Maybe Liz would become one of those spinsterlike Miss Marples, with a cat, a pair of knitting needles, and no man to complicate things. Liz had always toyed with the idea of penning a “cozy mystery,” as her editor called them. She would use a pseudonym like Betty had, and there’d be little violence and gore, a sprinkling of humor, and a puzzle that was neatly solved, resulting in a happy ending—except for that of the murder victims, of course.
The fact that Brittany had been wearing Regina’s ring meant she was somehow involved in the murder. But Liz’s next thought segued to the fact that not even Brittany would be stupid enough to wear the emerald and chunky gold ring in plain sight—although her boyfriend, Nick, might have been stupid enough to have given it to her after he murdered Regina Harrington-Worth.
Liz made sure Bronte was settled, then she texted Ryan and Betty: Meet me at the Indialantic’s dock in ten minutes. New developments. Liz. Ryan responded with OK, and Betty with a thumbs-up emoticon. Liz set out food, water, and a cat bed, then scattered a few catnip toys on the floor before leaving a sleeping Bronte on the window seat. She hated to leave her new housemate, but she had to share with Betty and Ryan about the ring she’d just seen on Brittany. Before leaving the beach house, she called her father and left a message on his voice mail, telling him about the ring on Brittany’s finger, knowing he would pass the information on to Charlotte.
Exactly ten minutes later, Liz was sitting in her father’s Chris-Craft, Serendipity. At one time, the Indialantic’s dock would have been considered more of a pier. Almost a hundred years later, following a plethora of hurricanes and storms, it had been shortened and rebuilt with enough room to moor ten yacht-sized vessels. Today, besides the Serendipity, only Queen of the Seas and Edward Goren’s skiff were in their slips. Overly kindhearted Aunt Amelia offered dock privileges to her hotel guests, as well as to her shopkeepers at the emporium.
It was perfect weather for a boat ride on the Indian River Lagoon. However, Liz planned to stay dockside, away from suspicious eyes and ears, namely Aunt Amelia’s and Barnacle Bob’s. She didn’t want to go anywhere near the emporium and Brittany Poole. Her great-aunt had enough on her mind between Iris and Pierre. Liz and her father had convinced Aunt Amelia that Pierre needed to see a doctor. Liz’s heart broke when she saw the resignation about Pierre’s condition sink in and bury Aunt Amelia’s sunny resolve and her penchant for looking at the positive side of life.
Betty walked up the dock carrying an umbrella. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Betty called out, “You left this in my suite. Thought you might need it.” She wore a pair of white capris and a navy-and-white horizontal boatneck top with a red bandana tied around her neck. On her feet were navy boat shoes. She carried a large white tote bag with an embroidered emblem of an
