Dead Girl in a Green Dress (6 page)

The kid blinked as if confused before he gave Tate’s hand a half-hearted shake. "Hi, um… come in. Sorry, we don’t have any place to sit."

"That’s okay, this won’t take long." Tate ushered
Byrony
in ahead of him, and got right into it. "According to the police, you were the one who found Jessica Long. What time was that?"

Cody scratched his head as he answered, "A little after six. I was on my way to work."

"And you recognized Jessica?"

A wave of sorrow crossed the kid’s face as he nodded.

"Did you recognize her dress or what?" Tate persisted.

Dropping his gaze, Cody shook his head. "I never saw the dress before, but as soon as I saw the red hair I knew it was her."

"Yeah, she had pretty red hair, didn’t she?"

Still looking at his dirty sneakers, Cody nodded again.

"She was a very pretty girl," Tate continued as the kid squirmed in discomfort. "And close to your age, too. Did you ever ask her out?"

The kid’s eyes jerked up and a flush flooded his neck and cheeks. "Yeah, but she told me she was seeing someone else. She wouldn’t say who."

Behind him, Tate heard
Byrony
stir, but he didn’t want to break his momentum with Cody so he didn’t turn around. "But don’t you have an idea who? Ever see her with anyone?"
 

"Jessica didn’t socialize that much." Cody muttered, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Not like the other seasonal girls."

"Party girls, huh? Did they go out with guests?"

"Some did, but not Jessica," the kid insisted. From the back room, a gruff voice called Cody’s name. "Be right there," he hollered back,
then
he shifted his anguished gaze to
Byrony
. "I tried to save her, Miss Long. I really did, but I couldn’t. She was already cold…"

Tate saw tears glittering on
Byrony’s
lashes and her voice shook a little when she spoke. "I know you did, Cody, and I’m very grateful you tried."

Rubbing his nose across the sleeve of his t-shirt, the kid turned to go.

"One more question." Tate stopped him. "The police report said she had no
purse,
or other ID. What about shoes? When you found her, was she wearing shoes?"

Confusion twisted Cody’s features. "I
dunno
… I don’t remember seeing any shoes. But why would a mugger take her shoes?"

"I’ve been asking myself the same question." Tate handed the kid a business card. "If you think of anything else, please give me a call."

"I will," Cody promised, shoving the card into his pocket.

Back outside, the clouds had started to give way to patches of blue sky, but
Byrony’s
expression looked stormy. "She couldn’t have walked on that trail without shoes!"

"Doesn’t seem likely to me either, Sunshine." Tate took her elbow and guided her to the corner, talking as they went. "Plus, I can’t see any woman going barefoot in a fancy dress like that."

"So somebody brought her there. She wasn’t mugged, at least not there."

"Like Cody said, never heard of a mugger who took shoes." Tate gazed across the street and inclined his head. "How about we continue our discussion over coffee at that diner?"

"Sounds good,"
Byrony
agreed.

Once they got inside and seated, Tate ordered pie with their coffee.

"Why don’t you weigh three hundred pounds?"
Byrony
asked with a roll of her golden eyes.

"Lucky dip in the gene pool," he answered with a shrug.

While Tate dug into his apple pie, she sipped her coffee thoughtfully for a few moments before she spoke. "So this wasn’t a random crime of opportunity. Who could have possibly had a reason to murder my little sister?"

Tate chose his words carefully. "I know it’s a corny old saw, but there really is a thin line between love and hate, so cops always look at the spouse or significant other first."

Byrony
banged her coffee cup on the table and raised frustrated but beseeching eyes. "So how do we find this mysterious boyfriend? There are so many possibilities."

"Not as many as you think." He wanted to reassure her, but not give her too much hope. He laid down his fork and ticked off on his fingers. "First, we know she didn’t date guests. Second, if she was dating another seasonal employee, why would they keep it a secret? Most of those
seasonals
are kids with nothing to lose by having a fling with each other."

Her golden gaze flashed. "My sister is not the fling type."

"Sorry, bad word choice – dating, in a relationship." If she didn’t like the idea of a fling, Tate expected
Byrony
would blow a fuse at what he actually suspected. He cleared his throat and tried to prepare for the worst. "My point is that if Jessica and her boyfriend wanted to keep it on the down low, one of them probably had something to lose."

He paused intentionally and took a slow sip of his coffee to let her digest his words. When it finally sank in, her mouth flew open for a moment then snapped shut. He watched her struggle to restrain herself before she spoke.

She wasn’t entirely successful and her tone came out in a low hiss. "Are you saying Jessica was seeing a married man?"

Tate threw his hands into the ‘time out’ gesture. "Whoa! I didn’t say that, although I wouldn’t completely rule it out. But right now I’m guessing that Jessica was involved with one of the permanent employees at the Grand.
Someone whose career might suffer if word got out about him and a twenty year old seasonal."

But
Byrony
shook her head in denial. "I can’t believe she would be so stupid." She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

"C’mon, Sunshine," he tried to console her. "We all do dumb stuff when we’re young."

She spoke through her fingers in an anguished tone. "But we didn’t die. Jessica did." Rising suddenly, she practically sprinted toward the rest room sign over an archway near the kitchen.

Rather than follow her, Tate finished his pie, even though it no longer had much taste and stuck in his throat. He washed it down with the last of his coffee, but declined a refill from the waitress. Instead, he asked for the check. Five long minutes later, when there was still no sign of
Byrony
, Tate left money on the table with the bill and headed toward the rest rooms.

After standing outside the ladies room for a couple more minutes, he finally rapped on the door.
"
Byrony
?
If you don’t come out I’ll have to make a spectacle of myself and come in there."

A rustling noise came from inside, then the door popped open. "What did you call me?" she demanded,
ducking
 
under
his arm.

Tate pulled his head back and stared down at her in confusion.
"
Byrony
.
That’s your name, isn’t it?"

"I know it is, but I didn’t think you did." Obviously she was putting up a front, for her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose pink.

He admired her attempt and played along.
"Very funny, Sunshine.
Call us a cab back to the ferry
terminal,
we’ve got work to do."

"Sure you don’t want a horse, Cowboy?" she asked, pulling out her phone.

"Just wait ‘til we get back to the island."

They lucked out and arrived at the terminal just as a ferry was loading. Though the rain had stopped, the breeze had picked up, making the trip back to Mackinac a little on the bouncy side. Seemingly unperturbed by the waves,
Byrony
stayed on the top deck while Tate sat in the center of the lower deck, scribbled notes from his interview with Cody Henry, and formulated his next steps.

When the engines cut back and Tate saw the dock coming into view, he ventured up top to join her. She stood alone at the back rail, hunched against the chill. Her smallness and vulnerability caught him by surprise, then when she turned at his approach, his fingers twitched to brush the tangled hair away from her face.

"The day’s still young and looks like the rain is over, so what’s next?"
 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tate answered, "Another call to the Mac City police. We’ll have a little chat about missing shoes, and I’ll see if they have my other info. If not, I’ll make myself a pain in their rears until they do. Matter of fact, I might just pay them a visit this afternoon to look at their collection of evidence. Want to come along?"

Byrony
chewed her bottom lip, and Tate’s wayward thoughts speculated on how that lip might taste. "I think I might pay Mr. Justin Saunders a visit, if you trust me to talk to him alone."

Tate shook his head and to play it safe, he focused his gaze over her shoulder. The fact that she was asking him first was a major accomplishment, but he kept it casual. "Like I said, the dude
ain’t
talking to me, so anything you can wrangle out of him will be a plus."

"That’s what I thought," she agreed as they moved to exit the now parked ferry. "Don’t worry, I’ll be charming." She turned and batted her eyelashes at him, then smothered a giggle. Tate tried to smile, but he really didn’t find the idea of
Byrony
flirting with Justin Saunders amusing at all.

As they walked down the pier toward Main Street, he pulled out his phone and saw he had a message. Not the Mac City detectives as he’d expected, but none other than the general manager of the Grand Hotel, Mr. Michael Prince. Tate stopped short to listen. A few paces ahead of him,
Byrony
turned and gave him a questioning look.

He held up his finger to indicate one minute and punched save. "That was none other than the charming Mr. Prince. He wants to meet with us."

Byrony’s
disbelieving expression mirrored his own astonishment. Moving out of the path of foot traffic, Tate hit redial and fidgeted until a woman’s nasally voice answered and identified
herself
as Mr. Prince’s executive assistant.

"Tate Madison returning Mr. Prince’s call."

"Oh yes, Mr. Madison. Mr. Prince has a half-hour available today at three. Will that be convenient for you?"

"That’ll be fine. Miss Long and I will be there at three."

The woman gave a brief description of the location of Mr. Prince’s office within the hotel and rang off.

"What does he want?"
Byrony
immediately demanded.

"Don’t know." Tate shrugged. "I only talked to his executive assistant."

With a roll of her eyes,
Byrony
sighed. "Guess I better bring out my business suit again, and please don’t make me ride a horse."

"I’ll see if I can find a surrey with the fringe on top," he quipped and was rewarded with a brief smile.

Back off, Madison
. He warned himself. He was treading on very thin ice here, getting too close to a client. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, "C’mon Sunshine, I’ll walk you back to the Gingerbread House of Horrors."

Not many tourists milled in and around the shops on Main Street, but the two of them didn’t hurry. Instead they traded wisecracks about Mr. Prince Charming and his snooty wife as they strolled from Main to the cross street and turned on the next block toward
Byrony’s
B&B. Tate fell silent, trying to figure out what it was about the stubborn little bean counter that he found so appealing.

A sudden clattering noise brought both of them up short. From seemingly nowhere, a black horse with a yellow-clad rider barreled toward them. A few steps in front of Tate,
Byrony
turned and he saw a flash of fear leap across her face.

The horse reared and hurdled onto the sidewalk right at her. Backpedaling,
Byrony
stumbled and threw her arms over her head.

"Whoa!
Stop!"
Tate shouted, waving frantically at the big animal and causing the horse to snort and hurl itself back onto the street.

Without pausing, the horse and rider galloped away.

Chapter 5

As she fell to the sidewalk,
Byrony
curled into the fetal position, expecting a slash from those vicious hooves. But the blow never came. Instead, she heard Tate yell and the animal lunged away.

"Stop him!" Tate shouted again,
then
she felt his strong arms around her. He must be bending down to be able to reach her on the ground.

With a sob, she turned and melted against his broad chest.

He pulled her close, gently patting her back. "You okay?"

Unable to speak without blubbering, she bit her lower lip and nodded.

"You sure you’re not hurt?" He pulled back and she watched his blue eyes made a quick scan up and down the street.

"Y-yes," she managed to gasp, threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against him again. His warm and solid presence helped her regain control and stop weeping.

"Should I call 9-1-1?" She heard a stranger asking.

"
Naw
, she’s all right." She could feel Tate’s voice vibrating through her as he answered. "Did anybody get a look at the horse or rider?"