Chapter Forty-Three
“Juliette!” Veeta called from the edge of the beach club as Juliette sputtered to the surface. “What are you doing in the water?”
“What are you doing on the yacht?” Juliette asked breathlessly, cold and pissed.
“You weren’t answering our texts,” said Kate from behind Veeta. “We got worried something happened to you, so Veeta tracked your phone here. Are you swimming? Why are you swimming?”
“I wasn’t swimming,” Juliette said. “Help me up. And find me a freaking towel!”
Ten minutes and one conveniently located terry cloth robe later, Juliette was shivering on the back deck, twisting seawater out of her hair. “When I’m done here, we’re going to have a very long conversation about personal boundaries and how tracking someone’s phone grossly violates them.”
“As long as the conversation includes the etiquette of responding to texts in a timely fashion as well,” Veeta said, unapologetically.
“Why haven’t you been answering us?” Kate asked.
“Because I’ve been trying to catch a freaking murderer!
” Juliette said, exasperated. “I didn’t think Troy did it, so I talked to Brigitte, who helped me catch Chipper Floyd sneaking out with the manuscript, which is total trash and a complete disaster by the way, and then I realized that the microphone wasn’t a short at all but a power surge someone triggered from the cockpit, and I think Clayton Westminster is the real killer! ”
Juliette took a deep breath, her chest heaving after the amount of information she offloaded from it.
“Was this before or after you shattered poor Charlie’s heart into a million pieces and told him to go hook up with his terrible ex for all you cared?” Kate demanded.
Juliette huffed a sigh. “That’s not what happened. Exactly. And it doesn’t matter right now!”
“It matters the most,” Kate said, like they weren’t trespassers on a high-end yacht. “How could you do such a thing to poor, sweet Charlie? When he was clearly so into you.”
“He was not,” Juliette grumbled, knowing full well that he was. “Kate, we really don’t have time for this.“
“We will make time,” Kate said. “You know, I used to be really scared of you.”
“Terrified,” Veeta confirmed, nodding.
“Yes, abjectly terrified,” Kate said. “And maybe I still am a bit.”
“A lot,” Veeta interjected.
“Thank you, Veeta,” Kate said loudly. “But you know what? I am really peeved with you, and I don’t care that I’m worried you might try to throat-punch me for saying so. Charlie is a good guy, one of the best, and you’re an idiot for screwing that up.”
“I didn’t screw anything up,” Juliette said, knowing that of course she totally screwed it up. “It was a casual thing. You even said so! You just wanted Charlie to hook up with someone to get over his terrible ex.”
“I only said that because I knew you wouldn’t even consider talking to him otherwise,” Kate said. “You’re so terrified of commitment that most of the people you hook up with don’t even know your last name.”
“And they don’t need to,” Juliette said.
“But Charlie is different. If you had given him half a chance, you would have seen how perfect the two of you are for each other. He’s all heart, no head, and you’re all head, no heart.”
“Watch it,” Juliette growled.
“In relationships,” Kate amended. “It was an opposites attract thing, and I know you attracted. I watched it in real time at my apartment. So now you obviously have to fix things.”
“Can we possibly talk about this after I’ve found proof that Clayton killed Warren?” Juliette said. Not because she knew Kate was right and she was feeling surly about it, but because priorities.
“How are you going to do that?” Veeta asked practically.
“Someone caused the surge that killed Warren from the cockpit, which according to Brigitte Ellingham has a door lock with an access code on it. Everyone with a code had individual access, which means if we can find the access logs, we’ll know who was in the cockpit when Warren was killed.
Whoever created the electric shock is our killer. ”
“What an interesting little theory you have there,” came another voice from the dock. A flashlight flicked on, blinding them.
“Clayton?” Juliette gasped. She winced at the glare of the light, trying to make out his face, but what she saw instead turned her colder than the ocean. The glint of a gun in his hand, pointed directly at her.