Independence Day Murder Page 12

"But what was the clue, Max?" I asked. I needed to know the last piece of the puzzle.

  "Look at her earrings," Max said, keeping his eyes on her gun which seemed to be waving around even more wildly than before.

  I tried to look at her earrings, but I was too far away. Tentatively, I stood up and walked closer to her. At first, Rebecca kept the gun pointed at me. But I put my hands up and as I got closer, she moved it to the side, keeping it pointed at the boys instead.

  Rebecca was still wearing the same earrings she had been wearing the other night at the bachelorette party. The spectacular red firework earrings were glinting in the light of the setting sun. But the closer I looked, the more uneven they looked. I had noticed the same thing when we were at the Loony Bin. For some reason, they just didn't seem to match even though it was obvious that they were supposed to. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something that was just a little off about them.

  I took a tiny step closer, watching to make sure Rebecca didn't suddenly take issue with it. But she let me get close enough to see that the reason her earrings looked odd was because they were uneven. The earring on the right was missing one red gem that made the offshoot of the firework shorter than all of the rest of them.

  "So the gem that we found in the boat was from your earrings, not the American flag pin," I said. "Were they a matching set at least?"

  "They went together, yes," Rebecca said. "When our mother died, this was one of the only things she had that was worth keeping. Carol let me keep the earrings because I thought they were pretty and I gave the brooch to her. It made me laugh because it was so unlike her fashion style. I mean, did you see her wearing that brooch on the Fourth of July? She looked sort of ridiculous."

  Rebecca snorted out a laugh and then couldn't stop a fit of giggles that overtook her. She turned to grab the whiskey bottle again. Whoever had first called alcohol 'liquid courage' was right. It seemed to be the only thing that was keeping Rebecca going right now.

  I angled my body diagonally so that I could shoot a glance at Max and Trevor. They were still both sitting on the bench seat. I thought about sitting down, but the closer I could be to Rebecca, the better chance we had of getting out of this boat.

  Now Rebecca was past the tipsy stage and she was falling full on into the drunk stage. The fact that we were on a boat didn't help. Anytime another boat went by, the waves would hit our boat and she would stagger from one side of the boat to the other, always trying to keep the gun pointed toward us.

  I wasn't sure she would actually be able to shoot any of us. The way she was squinting made it seem like not only was she seeing double, but her entire world was spinning. I didn't want to take any chances, though, because we had a wedding to attend tomorrow.

  "Rebecca, I still want to hear the full story of Murray's death," I said. "I'm not sure what you are planning, but we deserve to know the truth of what happened to him before you do anything to us."

  "I already told you some of it," she said, the words getting thicker as they came out of her mouth.

  "Yes, but you didn't actually get to the part where he died," I said quietly. "How did that happen?"

  Rebecca stumbled back to the captain's chair and spun it to face us. Another boat drove past and rocked the boat, causing her to fall down onto the chair and almost tip onto the floor. I reached over and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her but she whipped the gun around to point at me.

  "Don't do that," she said. "I'm fine. My sister is almost always this drunk and she doesn't seem to have this much trouble."

  As I watched her sway back and forth in the chair, I thought about how rough her life must have been. She lost her parents and then was effectively forced to work as her sister's housekeeper. Rebecca had fallen in love and thought she had found someone, but Murray had only ended up ridiculing and mocking her.

  But nothing made the decision to kill Murray into the right choice. It was never right to take a life. Murray was the world's biggest jerk, but he hadn't deserved to die.

  "Okay, I'm gonna tell the story, but you all have to just listen," Rebecca said, waving the gun unsteadily. "No interrupting. I want to just tell all the details and then I'll decide what to do with you."

  I looked back at Trevor and Max, who both nodded back at me. We didn't have much choice.

  "Tell us everything, Rebecca."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  "I already told you about my parents dying and how I took care of my sister," Rebecca said. "But Murray was a bright spot in my life. Sure I was the housekeeper, but he made me feel important. He would give me little presents and tell me how much he loved me. I stayed because I was sure he would eventually kick Carol out and I would be the lady of the house."

  Rebecca was looking off into the distance, her eyes unfocused. Her face was raw and open and she was unable to hide the hurt that she felt. The gun was in her lap now, but she still held onto it, ready to point it at us at any time.

  "So I thought the Fourth of July was that time," she said. "My sister was passed out drunk, which was how we usually found our time to be alone. Carol has a bit of a problem with booze which I didn't even try to help. I would stock up the bar with all of her favorites because that way Murray and I could be together more often. And we were that night."

  A smile crossed her face along with a small sigh. Rebecca was lost in her memories, lost in her time with Murray. I, however, was stuck in the present, trying to balance listening to her story with thinking of a way out of this situation.

  "We went out on the boat and parked here. There weren't really any boats here because they shoot the fireworks at the beach and it can be awfully loud when you are close. But we wanted a more private place where people wouldn't see us together. Murray and I sat and held hands while we waited for the fireworks to start."

  Rebecca put her hand on top of the hand that was holding the gun. She closed her eyes for a moment, like she was imagining that it was Murray holding her hand. It was a pitiful sight and one that tugged at my heartstrings a bit.

  "I told Murray that I was ready for our life together to start," Rebecca said. "And that's when he turned cruel."

  Her eyes sprung open and now they seemed dark and hollow. They were like something out of a horror movie and tears of rage started to pour out of them. The setting sun made Rebecca's face look spooky and for the first time this evening, a pang of fear hit me. What if we didn't make it out alive this time?

  "Murray laughed in my face," she said. "He asked if I really thought he was going to give up his trophy wife for the housekeeper. Murray said that Carol might have a problem with drinking, but she still looked great and that was what mattered. He said that I would never be able to be with him like that, but that he was willing to continue seeing me in secret."

  Rebecca's eyes were pouring tears and her nose was starting to run. She dragged her free hand across her face, trying to clear it all away, but she mostly managed to smear it all over. Rebecca didn't seem as spooky anymore, but there was something even scarier about how unhinged she seemed.

  "That's when I knew I couldn't leave that boat until I got my way," she said. "So I got out the gun and I pointed it at him. It was dark by then, so Murray thought I was joking. But I wasn't. I told him to tell me he was leaving Carol and that he was going to marry me. I told him to deny that he had ever loved Carol. But he said he couldn't."

  Sounds of laughter floated in from the beach, interrupting the story. I wondered how it would feel to be one of those beachgoers when they found out what was really happening over here in this boat. Sometimes things seem fine from far away, but once they are seen close up, it is a totally different story.

  "So I pointed the gun at him and said I would always love him," Rebecca whispered. "The fireworks started to go off and Murray tried to take the gun from me. At first, I thought I would let him take it but then I remembered that I had given up seven years of my life for this man and he didn't even want to give it a chance, so I pulled the tr
igger. I couldn't even hear the sound of the shot over the fireworks. But I could tell the gun had gone off by the sick look on Murray's face."

  Rebecca's face was twisted into a hard, cruel face. She was trying to justify what she had done to us, but also to herself. I could tell that deep down inside, she knew she had done a horrible thing but she was trying to live with herself and her decision.

  "Right away, I regretted what I had done," Rebecca said quietly. "There was the man I loved. He was suffering and I had done that to him. So I took off my sweatshirt and tried to use it to stop the bleeding, but it didn't work. I thought maybe I should try to drive the boat to get help, but I didn't want to leave his side. Finally, it seemed like he was almost dead, so I leaned down and I kissed him and told him I loved him."

  In my mind, I could picture the sad scene. Rebecca cradling Murray's head in the bottom of the boat as the fireworks exploded overhead, their faces illuminated in shades of red, blue, green.

  "Then the fireworks were over and Murray had stopped breathing," Rebecca said. "I just sat with him for a while, wondering what I should do. I had killed him, after all, even though he had practically made me do it. I didn't want to get caught, so I waited for the lake to clear off and I made a plan."

  I looked back at the guys again and realized that Max had slyly taken his phone out of his pocket and set it in his lap. Without being able to see it I couldn't be sure, but if I had to guess he was recording what Rebecca was saying just in case things went south. Well, in case they went more south than they already had.

  "I lay Murray down in the boat and I drove it back to the dock," she continued. "Once I was there, I covered him with life jackets because I was afraid birds would come and peck his face. Then, I got out of the boat and I pushed it off, hoping it would drift away and that somehow I would just never hear of it again."

  Rebecca must be delusional if she thought she'd never hear about Murray's death again. I had to assume that she didn't actually believe that but it was all part of the lie she was telling herself.

  "But how did the gem from your earring get into the boat?" I asked.

  "Oh these earrings are great and beautiful and everything, but the points are always getting caught on things," she said. "I'm sure it just caught on my sweatshirt as I was taking it off to help Murray and it popped out and fell onto the floor."

  "And Carol has never actually been in the boat before?" Max asked.

  "Of course not," Rebecca chortled. "The poor wittle baby gets seasick, but I think it's less motion sickness and more booze-related. Either way, she would never come for rides in the boat. Ever. And especially not that night. I know part of the problem is that she doesn't have an alibi. That's because she was passed out drunk in bed all night."

  "One more question," I said quietly. "Derek's wallet was found in the boat. He said that Murray pickpocketed him. Is that true?"

  "It's probably true," Rebecca sighed. "Murray was the type of guy who thought he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. If I had to guess, I would say he thought it was funny to take the beach guy's wallet from him. It was just another way for Murray to taunt him."

  "That must be really hard to lose the love of your life," I said, taking a step towards her.

  "It is just terrible," Rebecca said, her eyes so blurry from tears that she didn't seem to notice my movement. "The only good thing is that I'll be inheriting all his money. I changed his will when I thought we were going to be together. I figured it was going to be mine anyways and so it should be official. Apparently I am very good at forgery."

  She turned and stared out over the water. I looked at the beach and saw that the revelers were starting to pack up and leave. The sun was setting and many of the families probably wanted to get their children home. That meant that Philip was probably our only hope for rescue. Hopefully he had understood all of my clues and was on his way.

  "I might not have Murray, but I can at least buy happiness," she said. "I mean, look at me. Look at this dress and this boat. Don't I seem happier already?"

  After a moment, Rebecca sat back in the chair, her tale of love and loss spread out in front of her. She swayed side to side as we thought about the story. Looking at Rebecca, I think she really believed that she had done the right thing. Murray had loved her, but then he had betrayed her. In her mind, she didn't think she had much choice.

  "Okay, I'm just about ready," Rebecca said, wiping away the snot from her nose with the side of her hand.

  "Ready for what?" asked Trevor. His eyebrows furrowed together.

  "Ready to kill you," she said. "I can't just let you go knowing what you do. I'm sorry it has to end this way."

  Okay, so far my "not a plan" hadn't materialized, so I needed to do something fast. But what?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  My mind was racing as I tried to figure out what to do. I glanced at Max and Trevor. Trevor shrugged his shoulders at me and grimaced. He didn't have a plan, but I knew he would go along with whatever I did. Max seemed focused on watching Rebecca and the gun, but that didn't mean he had a plan either.

  "Rebecca, hold on just a minute," I said. "I want to tell you a little bit about myself."

  Rebecca's unfocusing eyes looked in my direction as her head bobbled slowly around. She laughed a few times, but didn't say anything. She seemed to be intrigued by me.

  "I'm a widow," I said. "Did you know that? I know what it's like to lose your lover and I know how you are feeling."

  I left out the obvious statement that I hadn't killed my husband and to me, that made all the difference. But I figured that the more I related to her, the better things would go. I walked over to the bench seat right behind where Rebecca was sitting and lowered myself onto it. Taking her free hand in mine, I told her the story about Peter and I.

  Surprisingly, Rebecca listened carefully as I told her the entire story of how Peter and I had met and fell in love. I told her about our wonderful life together in the big city. Then, I told her about the day he had been killed in a car accident. I described my life falling apart, how I stopped going to work and didn't take care of myself anymore. Tears started to fall as I described how I thought I'd never be happy again. Rebecca cried along with me as I clutched her hand in mine.

  Over her shoulder, I finally saw a small boat headed our way. I wasn't sure if it was Philip, but it was the only boat that had even come in our direction that wasn't dragging someone doing water sports behind it. We needed an escape and that seemed to be the only way we would get it.

  Once I was done telling my story, I leaned forward and tapped my forehead against hers. We both cried together for a little while, Rebecca crying for the man she had killed and me crying for the husband I had lost. It was somewhat cathartic to cry about Peter, even if it was just part of a plan to stop someone from killing me and my friends.

  "I feel like I know you better now and we may even be friends," I said after a while.

  "We aren't friends," Rebecca said, her face hardening again as she moved back from me. "I still have to kill you."

  "No no, that's not what I meant," I said. "But I do see one small flaw to your plan and I feel like as a friend, I should tell you about it."

  Rebecca searched my face, trying to see if she could divine from it the information I was holding back. For a long time, she looked into my eyes, desperate to see if she could actually trust me. Finally, she spoke.

  "Fine, tell me the flaw," she said, crossing her arms. "But we still aren't friends."

  "Well, you have to stand up," I said, knowing that she would be off-balance that way.

  Rebecca let out a big sigh and rose slowly out of the captain's chair. She still held the gun in one hand, but now she was holding it loosely down by her side. I put my arm around her shoulder and turned her so that we were standing side by side facing the beach.

  "Look at all those people that are still on the beach," I said. I swept my arm across like a game show presenter, trying to keep her attention t
his direction while hopefully Philip was coming closer to help. "Even though they are too far away to actually see what happens, they are definitely going to hear gunshots. That means you will have like fifty witnesses to this crime."

  Rebecca's face went slack as she realized I was right. She may have been able to commit a murder without a witness the first time, but this time was different. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Max and Trevor slowly sliding down the bench seat until they were out of my line of vision at the opposite side of the boat, getting ready to help Philip dock.

  "Plus, it might be getting dark, but you are wearing a sequined gown," I pointed out. "I'm sure that from over there, you are shimmering like a disco ball anytime a light shines on you."

  In horror, Rebecca looked down at her dress, clutching at the sides of her beautiful gown as if wondering why it would betray her. She looked up, so close to my face that I was hit with the overwhelming smell of whiskey from her breath.

  "What should I do?" she whispered frantically. "Should I take the dress off? Maybe I could use it to muffle the sound of the shot."

  "No, no," I said. "Because the damage has already been done. It's okay, I'll stand here with you and steady you while you make a plan. I'm sure you can think of something. After all, it is just what us strong women do."

  Rebecca nodded. I kept blabbering, hoping to keep not only her attention but her trust. She was still holding the gun in the hand that was between us, but she seemed to have almost forgotten about it.

  "We are strong women," she said. She sounded far away, like she had left her body and was somewhere else trying to figure out a new plan.

  "Yes, we are and we will continue living even though our loves are gone," I said. "It hurts and it feels like the hurt will last forever, but it won't. We will find love again or we might not. But we will find ourselves and we will love ourselves. You need to love yourself."

  "I need to love myself," she said, repeating after me.

  "Yes, you do," I said. "It is the only way to keep on living. You deserve love and the best place to get that love is from deep inside yourself. Once that love has sprung forth, your entire life will change. Mine certainly did."