Chapter Eighteen
“What’s happening?” Charlie called in alarm, running after her.
“We need to stop that server,” Juliette huffed as the man disappeared into the tent.
“If you wanted a lemonade that badly, I could have fetched you one. People are staring.” Charlie gave a nervous smile to an older gentleman watching them. “Morning, Dr. Campbell! Great event, thanks for the invite.”
“They’re just impressed with our stamina,” Juliette said as they reached the tent opening in record time.
She paused in the entry, the interior surprisingly dark and cool after being out in the direct sun.
She blinked a few times, waiting for her eyes to adjust, scanning the gathered crowds as best she could.
She caught sight of the server just as he seemed to spot her, trapped at the bar as the bartender refilled his glasses from a shaker. Juliette narrowed her gaze on him.
“There he is,” Juliette said. “Don’t let him get away!”
The man took off through a discreet flap in the back of the tent, presumably the entrance for club employees and supplies.
Juliette edged through the crowd, her excuses starting out polite and quickly ratcheting up to sharp elbows and muttered curses as it became clear the gathered guests didn’t share her sense of urgency.
“Seriously, move your old ass,” Juliette muttered to yet another white-haired man.
Charlie winced. “Dr. Prinze, good to see you. Enjoy your beverage.” He leaned in to Juliette. “Did you miss the part where I said these were all people I worked with? It would be very convenient for me if you didn’t irrevocably piss them off.”
“Then tell them to move their old asses,” Juliette said. She shoved through the tent flap, eyeing the long stretch of white between the tents where they’d stacked boxes of wine, fresh lemons, and cups and napkins. “Dammit, where did he go?”
“Why are we hunting this man down?” Charlie asked, looking both ways.
“He has the duffel bag,” Juliette said, like it should have been obvious.
“Ah, of course. The duffel bag. Explains everything.”
“Just … go that way. If you find him, tackle him and hold him down until I can get there.”
“I’m not doing that,” Charlie said, though he did head in the direction she pointed.
Juliette crept around the back of the tent toward a separate tent swarming with more servers carrying silver trays. She prowled closer, scanning each face, following the last server in the line into the empty tent.
“Derrick, what are you doing in here?” said one of the women carrying a massive urn of soup. “You’re on drink duty.”
Juliette whipped around as Duffel Bag—Derrick, apparently—was fruitlessly trying to get his coworker to shut up. He gave a sigh of annoyance before dodging out of the tent the way Juliette had just come.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Juliette said, starting after him at a sprint.
But it turned out, she didn’t need to bother, because she reached the tent flap just in time to see Charlie step out from seemingly nowhere and clothesline the guy, knocking him to the ground in one swift moment. Juliette blinked in surprise as Derrick writhed on the ground.
“Where did you learn that?” she asked, unwilling to admit how much that one simple maneuver revved her engine.
“Karate classes as a kid,” Charlie said, holding out a hand. “Come on, up you pop, mate. No more running.”
“I’m sorry,” Derrick wheezed, taking Charlie’s proffered hand and leveraging himself up. “I won’t run. I promise. I’m done.”
“He’s gonna run,” Juliette said, just as the server made a break for it. He forgot Charlie was still holding his hand, though, and Charlie used the connection to once again flip him to the ground on his back.
“That was hot,” Juliette enthused, unable to keep it in. Charlie flushed in embarrassment, which was somehow even cuter.
“It’s over,” Juliette said, leaning in. “We got you. Give it up.”
“Okay, okay!” Derrick cried, putting his hands up in defeat. “I can’t keep running. I confess. I did it. I took the money!”
“Money?” Juliette said, curling her lip in confusion. “Wait, what money?”
“Isn’t that why you guys are after me?” Derrick asked, looking equally confused. “The money I stole from the safe?”
“We don’t care about the money,” Juliette said, though she paused. “Wait, how much money are we talking?”
“Fifty thousand,” Derrick said.
Charlie whistled.
“Okay, we care a little about the money,” Juliette amended. “But mainly we care about the manuscript you stole!”
“What’s a manuscript?” Derrick asked, looking even more confused. “Wait, are you guys not the FBI or whatever?”
Charlie sighed, once more pulling the poor guy up. “I think we should start at the beginning.”
Derrick led them around the side of the club to the pool, the three of them huddling at an umbrella-covered table on the far end in the shade.
Juliette started in before he could get settled. “Listen, Duffel Bag—”
“My name’s Derrick.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you want us remembering your name after this conversation, do you, Duffel Bag? Now, the night of Warren Ellingham’s birthday party, I saw you fleeing from his room. You’ve already admitted to breaking into the safe and stealing the money, so—”
“I didn’t break into anything!” Derrick said, undercutting her big accusation. “The safe was already open when I got there, I swear it!”
“How convenient for you,” Juliette said, letting her tone indicate how believable his story was. “Who paid you? Where is the manuscript? Were you involved in Warren’s murder?”
“Murder?!” Derrick’s face went a queasy sort of green, and he nearly fell out of his chair backing up. “I don’t know nothing about a murder, what is this? Some kind of setup? Hey, if you guys aren’t the FBI, I don’t have to talk to you!”
Juliette leaned in, her gaze like a laser. “Do we need to get the FBI involved?”
“What? No! What is this? Who are you?” Derrick scrambled up, eyes roving the poolside wildly like he was looking for an escape.
“He’s going to make a run for it again,” Juliette said. “Clothesline him.”
“Let’s everybody just take a deep breath, have a seat, and calm down,” Charlie said in a soothing voice.
He looked at Derrick, his expression earnest. “Come on, mate, you’re not in any trouble with us.
Derrick, was it? Listen, Derrick, we just need your help sorting a few details out, all right?
Have a seat and relax. Nobody’s calling the FBI or anybody else. We’re just having a little chat.”
Charlie’s voice was so reassuring, even Juliette found herself sinking back into her metal chair.
It was like listening to a bedtime podcast. Even Duffel Bag—she refused to acknowledge him as Derrick—looked pacified as he inched toward his chair and took a cautious seat.
He maintained a safe distance from Juliette, though, his gaze occasionally flicking toward her nervously.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” Charlie said, giving him an encouraging smile. “All we want is to ask a few questions. Is that all right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Derrick said, with a nod. “Can you ask them, though?”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “Let’s pretend I believe that you chanced upon Warren’s suite and a safe full of thousands of dollars in cash happened to be magically open. What did you do then?”
“I wasn’t planning on taking anything, honest to god I wasn’t,” Derrick said.
“The steward sent me to see if he had any medication or anything on hand, baby aspirin or some shit. I don’t know.
Anyway, I get to the room, the safe door is wide open, and there are just stacks and stacks of money there.
It was like I was on some kind of hidden camera show or something.
I figured some guy in a suit would pop out and ask ‘What would you do?’ You remember that show? My mom loved that shit.”
“Since John Quinones didn’t jump out and accost you, I assume you got over your qualms and stole the money?” Juliette said dryly.
Derrick fidgeted with a stray stick, shredding the bark off.
“Look, I’m not a bad guy, all right? I been working here at Pacific Pines for almost five years.
Mr. Ellingham, he wasn’t like a lot of these country club snobs.
He’d remember your name, he was a real good tipper, gave everybody the day off for their birthday.
I was real sorry about what happened to the old man, but that money?
It was chump change to a guy like him. Probably spent it on getting his watch cleaned or filling up the tank of his Bentley or some shit.
That kind of dinero is life-changing for a guy like me, though.
I figured, who needed it more? Definitely not him, and his son would just blow it on a parlay for the Seahawks game.
I didn’t think I was hurting anybody, not really. ”
“We understand,” Charlie said sympathetically, giving Juliette the eye when it was clear she had a less flattering opinion of his actions. “Anybody would have been tempted by that much money, of course they would have.”
“Right?” Derrick said. “I mean, it was like, fate, you know what I mean? Just sitting there, and the steward sent me! It’s like, I don’t know, God or somebody wanted me to have it. To finally change my fate or whatever.”
“So, you got your fifty thousand. Why come back?” Juliette asked.
“Ah, well.” Derrick looked down at his shredded stick sorrowfully.
“Turns out, I’m not much smarter than Brad when it comes to money.
I lost it all at the tables at Snoqualmie.
You know the place, the Indian casino? Best crab legs in the state.
I could take you sometime, if you’ve got a couple hundred bucks you could spot me. I swear I’m good for it.”
“You lost fifty thousand dollars at a casino?” Juliette said in horror.
“I started on such a high, too,” Derrick wailed. “The blackjack tables were hopping. Cards were coming my way you wouldn’t believe! I was up almost twenty grand when I—”
“Focus up, Duffel Bag,” Juliette interrupted. “You said the safe was already open. Did you see the manuscript anywhere in the room? It would have looked like a stack of printer paper.”
Derrick frowned, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t see nothing like that in the safe.”
“Did you see anyone leaving the room before you?” Charlie asked. “Another server, maybe? Or a party guest?”
Derrick shook his head again. “I mean, there were people coming and going all over the boat. I couldn’t keep ’em all straight. And then we make it back to the club and shit’s even crazier here, you feel me!”
“Duffel Bag, did you take anything else from the room?” Juliette demanded. “Like maybe a fine bottle of very expensive whiskey?”
“Oh, ahh…” Derrick’s face turned red. “I didn’t think anybody would notice that going missing, neither.
There was barely anything left in it anyway, and it’s not like Mr. Ellingham was going to be polishing it off.
I didn’t want it going to waste. Though I guess it did, considering I didn’t even get a chance to drink it. ”
“Why not?” Juliette asked.
“I told you, when we got back the night of the party the whole place was swarming with cops. I figured I was done for if they spotted all that cash, so I stuffed the bills in my shirt and stashed the bag in the locker room. It’s probably still there, considering they haven’t let anybody in since the party. Whiskey keeps, doesn’t it?”
Juliette turned to Charlie, the gears turning once again.
“The night of the party, Warren offered me a glass of that whiskey. I only had a sip, but my heart started racing and I was seeing colored halos around everything. At the time I just figured I shouldn’t mix a scop patch with Dramamine and whiskey—”
“Which you definitely should not,” Charlie said in horror. “How are you alive right now?”
“Sheer force of willpower. The point is, I thought it was drug interactions. But just now, Chipper said he had the same symptoms. The only thing he and I had in common was that we had a glass of the whiskey that the Piedmonts brought to Warren’s room.
I kept thinking someone dosed Warren’s glass or switched out his pills, but what if it was the bottle itself? ”
“Palpitations, dizziness, and seeing white, green, or yellow halos are all potential side effects of taking digitalis,” Charlie asked. “But how can you prove it?”
“If we can get into that locker room and find the bottle, we can have it tested,” Juliette said.
“Right now, the police think Warren was on digitalis prescribed to him. But if he were, he would have taken it in pill form, right? So if the bottle was dosed, it would prove someone had dosed Warren, which proves motive. And the Piedmonts were the ones who delivered the bottle, which means they’re our most likely suspects. ”
“Was I helpful?” Derrick asked. “Enough to not send me to jail?”
“That remains to be seen,” Juliette said, turning to Charlie and effectively dismissing Duffel Bag. “We need to find a way into that locker room.”