Under the Cover of Murder Read online

  MURDER AT SEA

  “I thought I might get a head start on identifying this guy if you recognized him, but I’ve also asked Lieutenant Fowley to pick up the yacht captain to see if he can identify him.”

  “If the dead guy was on staff, the captain would be the one to ask.” She glanced back at the photo. “Does Simon know what killed him yet?”

  “Early autopsy reports suggest it was a flare gun.”

  “A flare gun? Can one of those actually kill a person?”

  “When shot into the abdomen, at close range, yes, and that seems to be the case here.”

  Addie shivered and rose to her feet.

  “Not so fast.” He collected the photo and placed it back in the folder. “Identifying him was only a hunch since I had you here, but the real reason I thought that you might be able to help us out is this.” He pulled out a small evidence bag from the folder and handed it to Addie. “Is there any chance you can identify this?”

  Addie turned the red-labeled plastic bag over in her hand. “It appears to be the torn corner of a book. Why, what does it mean?”

  “Is there any way you can tell what book that came from?”

  She studied the slip of paper inside the small package. “No, there’s no ink markings, no title, nothing on here except an edge of what appears to be the bottom right corner of a book page. Maybe the title page, otherwise there would be some print given the angle of the tear. What does this have to do with the dead guy?”

  “It’s the only thing we found on his body . . .”

  Books by Lauren Elliott

  MURDER BY THE BOOK

  PROLOGUE TO MURDER

  MURDER IN THE FIRST EDITION

  PROOF OF MURDER

  A PAGE MARKED FOR MURDER

  UNDER THE COVER OF MURDER

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  UNDER THE COVER OF MURDER

  Lauren Elliott

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  MURDER AT SEA

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2021 by Lauren Elliott

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-2713-8

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2714-5 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-2714-2 (ebook)

  Chapter 1

  Addie pulled her red-and-white Mini Cooper into a parking space in front of Beyond the Page, her book and curio shop. She leapt out and raced around to the passenger side, grabbed the two dress bags on the back seat, took a quick glance at the size tags, and snatched up the top one. She jerked and glanced back over her left shoulder at a frantic tapping sound against glass. Martha Stringer, her white head bobbing back and forth, frantically waved at her to come into the bakery.

  Addie swiveled on her high heel and rolled over on her ankle. Her arms flailed, and panic surged through her. She made a grab for the side of her car to steady herself when she and her precious cargo made a beeline for the gutter. Her dress-bearing arm shot high in the air, wrenching her shoulder and sending a hot pain shooting up her neck. Addie grimaced but managed to keep the bag high and safely out of the reaches of roadway dust and grime. She inhaled deeply, stretched out her throbbing ankle, took a few more deep breaths or ten . . . hobbled up onto the curb and limped toward the bakery.

  As she approached the door, her chest tightened, and she paused. The cake displayed in Martha’s window was the one her best friend, Serena Chandler, and her mother, Janis, had ordered for Serena’s wedding today. Right down to the antique cake topper of an early twentieth-century couple—one Addie had untreasured in her great-aunt’s attic. Who the topper belonged to was a mystery because as far as Addie knew, Anita Greyborne, her benefactor, had never married. Oh well, a mystery to solve another day. Today was all about Serena. This was her day, but it broke Addie’s heart to know the cake Serena had dreamed about was now preserved and placed in a window as a display. Addie shored herself up and stepped inside the front area of the bakery where she was greeted by a heavily perspiring Martha.

  “Are you heading over to the yacht soon?” The short plump woman’s faded-blue eyes pierced Addie’s.

  “Yes, why?”

  Martha produced a large tray of petite pastries from the counter behind her. “Here, take these for me. Being as Saturday is my busiest day of the week, I won’t be there until later, and I promised Janis that at least one thing they ordered for her daughter’s wedding would be served.”

  “Yeah, it’s really too bad that Zach’s stepmother, Veronica, went ahead and changed everything on the menu. I feel so bad for Serena. By the way, the cake you made looks beautiful. It’s exactly like the one in the pictures Serena picked out.”

  “Just too bad it’s only window dressing now. Not hoity-toity enough for Lady Veronica Ludlow, I guess.” Martha harrumphed. “But at least the display has brought in three more wedding cake orders for the next few months, and I heard this morning that Bernadette Garland’s daughter was planning her wedding for next spring and there might be an order there, too.”

  “It’s just sad that Serena won’t be the benefactor of your beautiful five-tiered creation.”

  “Yeah, but it has helped boost my newest wedding cake line.”

  Addie bit her tongue to stem the words she wanted to scream, retelling all that had taken place over the final preparations for this day. Even though she and Martha had resolved many of their past differences, Addie still wasn’t certain that her onetime nemesis was completely trustworthy. She dared not vent her frustrations only to have them used against her in some way. So, she settled for a
nod of the head. “Yes, it’s too bad everything turned out the way it did, but I think Serena is coping with the changes well, don’t you?”

  Martha snorted.

  “What? Do you know something I don’t?”

  “I saw the poor girl go in your shop as soon as Paige put the sidewalk sign out this morning, and she didn’t look too chipper to me.”

  “Is she still there?”

  “Haven’t seen her come out.”

  “Oh dear, I’d better go see what’s happened today.”

  “Don’t forget these.” Martha thrust the silver tray in Addie’s hand. “See you this evening.”

  “Yes, thanks.” Addie balanced the large tray in one hand, trying not to crush Paige’s dress that she’d hung over her other arm, as she maneuvered the door open and headed next door to her bookshop.

  She stopped long enough to admire the fairy lights around her window. The flower-covered mini-trellis, vintage bridal books, and classic romance novels painted a perfect wedding theme if she did say so herself. The smile brought on by the window display continued as she stepped inside and took in the heady scent of old leather and books, an aroma she could never seem to get enough of.

  “Ta-da,” she exclaimed, holding the dress high over her head.

  “Is that my dress?” squealed Paige Stringer, her assistant manager. She clapped her hands together, and her china-blue eyes lit up her face as her gaze took in the image of the marine-blue bridesmaid dress through the plastic garment bag.

  “Yes, it is,” Addie said, and stepped toward her. “I think you’ll agree when you put it on that my cousin Kalea did a great job on all our dresses.”

  “Did she manage to get rid of that weird pucker under my armpit that we noticed during my last fitting?” Paige’s voice reflected the concern in her eyes as she fidgeted with the plastic covering.

  “She said she did, but she wanted me to let you know that she’ll be at the yacht early enough to make any last-minute alterations if she has to.” Addie limped over to the Victorian counter she used as a cash and coffee bar, set the platter down, and laid out the dress beside it.

  “What’s wrong with you? Why are you limping?”

  “Oh, silly me forgot to change out of my heels after my fitting this morning, and I rolled on my ankle. It’s fine, though. It doesn’t look too badly swollen.”

  “There’s ice in the freezer compartment of the fridge in the back.”

  “It’s fine.” Addie pressed the dress flat on the countertop. “You know, for a woman who never showed a talent for anything other than landing a rich man, I think my cousin’s shop, Hudson’s Creations on Main, is a real hit around town. She does have a knack for sewing and design.”

  “It makes sense though because she’s such a fashion diva herself, so I guess it turned out perfect for her when she bought that dress shop from my sister. She finally found her calling. Heaven knows working as a bookseller wasn’t it.”

  Paige’s comment brought a chorus of belly laughter from them both, and then Addie’s elbow jarred the tray of goodies sitting beside her on the counter, causing it to teeter precariously on the edge.

  Paige sprang toward it with the dexterity of a cat and snatched it before it tumbled off onto the floor. “Phew,” she gasped, as she eyed it while setting it safely back in place. “This looks too fancy for our midmorning snacks, so I’m guessing it’s for the wedding?”

  “Yes,” Addie managed to burble as she choked back her last laugh brought on by the sight of Paige’s ninja-style rescue.

  “Then you should know that I think there might have been a change of plans.”

  “What are you talking about?” Addie croaked.

  “I think the wedding’s off.”

  “Did Serena and Zach have a fight?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what?”

  “You’d better ask her.” Paige jerked her head toward the backroom. “While you’re dealing with the latest crisis, put some ice on that ankle. I don’t want to have to carry you up the aisle.” Paige scoffed as Addie started limping toward the back room.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah . . .” Addie waved over her shoulder. She stopped at the door, sucked in a deep breath, pasted a smile on her face, and with all the grace of a chimpanzee, hobbled into the storage room.

  For all her false bravado it only took one look at her friend’s tear-streaked face for Addie to crumple. “Oh hon, what happened now?” She collapsed beside Serena on a wooden book crate and wrapped her arms around Serena’s trembling shoulders.

  “What hasn’t happened?” Serena sobbed and sniffled. “You were at the rehearsal and dinner last night. Did it look like the wedding party and family event I planned?”

  Addie shook her head.

  “That’s right because Her Highness, Lady Ludlow, had over a hundred friends she invited who weren’t on my wedding list for today, let alone for a small family dinner last night. All because she didn’t want them to miss out on the celebrations and was mad at me for not inviting them to the actual ceremony today!”

  “If it’s any consolation, you looked beautiful, and everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves.”

  “That’s not the point!” Serena barked, and rose to her feet.

  Addie shrank back when Serena began pacing and wagging her finger in Addie’s face.

  “I planned a nice quiet dinner in that private dining room at Smugglers’ Den after the rehearsal for the wedding. Then two weeks ago she informed us that she had canceled the reservation because she had something else in mind.” The shrillness in Serena’s voice rose to a fevered pitch as she mimicked her soon-to-be stepmother-in-law, “Don’t worry, it will be lovely. Trust me, I know what Zach really wants.” Serena leaned into Addie’s face. “How can she know what my soon-to-be husband really wants? As his stepmother, she barely knows or tolerates him.” She straightened and resumed her pacing with force. “No, this woman has gone too far. I should have known it would get worse, not better, when she put a kibosh on the reception venue we booked last summer.”

  “Yeah, that was too bad. The community hall was perfect,” Addie said wistfully. “It holds so much history.”

  “Right.” Serena spun toward Addie. “She walked in and took one look around, turned up her surgically created perfect nose, and said, ‘It’s too old.’”

  “Of course it’s old. It’s a two-hundred-year-old stone building.”

  “Can you believe she wasn’t impressed with what the restoration committee had done? Not even the period furnishings, polished planked floors, the beams, and the wood-paneled coffered ceiling could sway her. Nope, she said, ‘No son of mine will have a wedding reception in such a shabby outdated facility.’ Then she turned and walked right out.” Serena huffed and crossed her arms. “She even objected to using your house and grounds as an alternative. Nothing’s good enough for the high-and-mighty Veronica Ludlow, it seems. I know that crushed you.”

  Afraid to look up at her friend and not certain the tirade was over, Addie nodded and wrung her damp hands in her lap.

  “Yeah, but she rules the roost, and everyone kowtows to her. I’m surprised she did listen when I adamantly objected to her plan to have our wedding at their estate in Connecticut so my friends would not be left out completely. Apparently, it is her mission to bring a representation of the estate to us so her friends don’t have to deal with any less than they are all accustomed to. Who on earth has a supersize yacht the size of a cruise ship?”

  Very rich people. Addie pursed her lips when she recalled what Serena had said when she first started dating Zach—that he and his family came from the poorer side of the Ludlow family. Though, she’d like to see how the rich side lived if that monstrosity of a yacht was considered poor. “What did Zach say about last night?”

  “Nothing. He just squeezed my hand and told me everything would be okay. Yeah, it’ll be okay when I call off this stupid wedding.” Serena dropped back onto the crate and sobbed into her hands.

&
nbsp; “Serena, you have to talk to Zach before you make any rash decisions about calling off the wedding. Maybe he can talk some sense into her, or his mother and father can?”

  “He’s tried,” she choked out between sobs. “His mother is none too happy about it, but what can she do? The poor woman has been relegated to smiling and keeping her mouth shut as the new Mrs. Ludlow runs the entire event and his father . . . well, all he says is ‘everything will work out in the end.’ Like father like son, I’m afraid.” She wailed through renewed tears.

  Addie drew in a quiet breath and waited for her friend to give some indication that the familiar rant of the last few months had burnt itself out. When no sound except sniveling and sniffles followed, she knew they had crossed another hurdle and reached over and pressed her friend’s hand into hers. “Do you love Zach?”

  Serena nodded.

  “Does he love you?”

  Another head nod.

  “What’s the most important conclusion of today?”

  “To be married,” Serena choked out.

  “Exactly, and even though most of your dreams of your perfect wedding were stolen from you, the outcome is one dream Veronica can’t steal.” She swept a chestnut-red ringlet from Serena’s face, tipped her friend’s chin with her finger, and forced Serena to look her in the eyes. “Now, you know as well as I do that when you get stressed or upset, your freckles pop out every which way.”

  Serena’s hazel-brown eyes filled with panic.

  “You don’t want to ruin the perfect picture of your big day with a blotchy face, do you?”

  Serena emphatically shook her head.

  “Good, my suggestion is to go next door to your tea shop. Make a big pot of chamomile tea, drink it all down, relax, and then go to the yacht for your hair and makeup appointment as scheduled, and no more talk of calling off the wedding.”