Julie mumbled, “Aunt Sue never liked me.”
“You fucked everything up with your Arts Council story,” said Hines as his voice got louder with each word. He pointed the gun at my chest. “You wouldn’t leave it alone. You had to take me down.”
“You stole the money,” I said staring down the barrel of the gun.
“Shit, I was going to pay it back once I could draw on the city contract,” he said. “You had to hurt me. You were jealous of my success.”
I shook my head. “Bo, people lost their jobs, paychecks bounced, and performances were cut because you stole the grant money.”
He began to shake his head. “No, no.”
I said, “You supported the petition drive because you wanted the city to cancel the construction contract and rebid the work. You didn’t care about the maritime park, but you and Jace wanted the money.”
“You can’t prove it,” Hines said. “You can’t prove I stole from the Arts Council either. No one can.”
I said, “No one can because you killed Pandora Childs.”
At the corner of my eye, I noticed Wittman had raised his head. I had his attention.
“Again, no proof,” Bo said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.
I said, “There will be records, evidence tying you to the money and her death.”
Laughing Hines said, “This ain’t my first rodeo. You aren’t that smart, Holmes.”
Looking at Jace and then back to him, I asked, “What are you talking about? First rodeo? Have you killed before?”
Hines smiled and took a big sip of his drink.
Jace asked, “What are you talking about Bo?”
Hines said, “Shut up, Jace.”
“He killed Celeste Daniels,” I said and decided to push it. “He was jealous of your relationship with her. He couldn’t stand Celeste loving someone else more than him.”
Hines jumped up and pressed the gun against my chest. My ribs throbbed. I gasped and held back a scream.
“Enough of your shit,” he said. “I could blow you away, dump your corpse into the Gulf. No one would ever miss you.”
Gritting my teeth, I said, “My dog would.”
Julie giggled again. I had forgotten she was in the room.
Hines shoved the gun into my rib cage one more time. The chair tilted back and my feet were off the floor. He liked to see me wince. Getting that pleasure satisfied his bloodlust for the moment. He went back to the couch, set down the gun between his niece and himself, and began to drink. He was relaxed, in control, and completely enjoying himself.
He said, “Again, you have no proof, not even a body.”
Jace stood. A storm had come up, and the boat began to rock more forcefully. Swaying, Wittman fought to keep his balance. He was also trying to clear his head.
“You killed Celeste?” he shouted at his brother-in-law.
“Of course not. Holmes wants to set us against each other. Mess with our heads. He wants to be let go.”
Wittman said, “But that’s what we agreed to do. Scare him, get him to back off, and put him back on shore.”
“Yes, Jace. Sit back down, rest. I’ll crank up the boat in a few minutes, and we’ll go to the marina. Promise.”
I said, “Jace, he’s going to kill me like he murdered Celeste Daniels and Pandora Childs. He may have even poisoned Sue.”
Hines charged me and hit me so hard that I fell off the chair. He began to kick me repeatedly. He picked the chair up, held it high and took aim for my head. Wittman crashed into him, knocking him against the glass door.
“Stop it, stop it,” shouted Wittman. He was bigger than Hines by four inches and twenty pounds.
Hines let go of the chair. He had his hands on his knees and was breathing heavily. So was Wittman. The two aging, one-time high school athletes were like a couple of old lions fighting over an antelope’s carcass.
Jace said, “Holmes, you found the suicide note. We all know Sue killed herself.”
My left eye was nearly swollen shut. I struggled to keep consciousness. My brain was shutting down. “What was the secret?” I rasped.
A soft voice spoke. Julie Wittman said, “I am.”
Jace charged Bo. A gun fired, and I blacked out.
33
When I woke, my pulse was radiating throughout my body. My head ached with each beat. I took short breaths to get relief from the piercing pain in my chest. The left side of my face was numb. I couldn’t hear out of that ear.
I slowly pulled myself up to a sitting position. The storm had passed, and the sea was calm again.
Bo sat across from me, propped up against the glass door with a web of cracks behind his head. Somehow it hadn’t shattered.
Bo’s eyes were open but had no life. Dark red blood emanated from a hole in his chest and covered his Pensacola Country Club white polo. Blood had puddled under him.
Jace and Julie Wittman held each other on the couch. The father stroked the hair of the sobbing girl. The gun was lying on the floor near their feet.
“How . . . how long have I been out?” I asked.
“Not sure, maybe an hour,” said Jace. His bravado had evaporated. He sounded sober.
“Julie shot Bo when I went at him,” he said. “She was defending me.”
Julie took her head off her father’s shoulder. “But I didn’t think,” she said. “I didn’t mean to. I just pulled the trigger, and he fell.”
“Hush, angel, you did what you had to do,” Wittman said.
But I sensed Julie wanted to talk. No, she needed to talk.
“Julie, what did you mean when you said you were the secret,” I asked.
Jace warned, “Holmes, this isn’t the time or place for your investigative reporting. Leave her—”
Julie shouted over her father. “I want you to understand.”
Jace shut his eyes. He didn’t want to hear this but wouldn’t
