Accidental Eyewitness

Alice Zogg

Description

Kurt Nobel, known as "The Real Estate King," invites a mixture of odd guests to his mansion on the Isle of Ease for a week of snorkeling, scuba diving, deep-sea fishing, and general fun in the sun. The occasion is to celebrate the millionaire's recent marriage to his new young wife, singer Barbie.

But all is not pure pleasure and merriment on the tropical island. One person plans an intriguing way to commit murder, and may get away with it, if not for the fortuitous eyewitness, eight-year-old Evie Frederique.

Sujets

• Detective
• Mystery
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 11 septembre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456628932
• Langue: English

Extrait

ACCIDENTAL EYEWITNESS
 
 
When a killer thinks there isn’t a shred of evidence to be found,
there might be an accidental witness.

 
 
 
Also by Alice Zogg
 
Stand-Alone Mystery
A Bet Turned Deadly
 
R. A. Huber Mysteries
 
Evil at Shore Haven
Guilty or Not
Murder at the Cubbyhole
Revamp Camp
Final Stop Albuquerque
The Fall of Optimum House
The Lonesome Autocrat
Tracking Backward
Turn the Joker Around
Reaching Checkmate

 
 
 
ACCIDENTAL EYEWITNESS
 
 
ALICE ZOGG

This book is a work of fiction.
 
Copyright 2017 Alice Zogg,
All rights reserved.
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2893-2
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

 
 
 
In memory of my friend Edith,
who loved snorkeling near tropical islands
CREDITS
Credit is due to Jackie Houchin, who explained the function of rescue inhalers for people suffering from asthma. She was even so kind as to let me borrow one. Rosemary Lord described a full-blown, life-or-death sort of asthma attack to me. Thank you, Rosemary, for sharing your painful experience which you would prefer to forget. Thanks are also in order to my son-in-law Sam Levering, who refreshed my memory about scuba diving and snorkeling. Again, I counted on my daughter Franziska for proofreading the manuscript. It is a tedious task, but she does it to perfection. Gayle Bartos-Pool deserves credit for an excellent editing job. My gratitude goes out to the members of the Los Angeles chapter of Sisters in Crime. Their support and friendship keeps me on track. When doing research for previous books, my husband, Wilfried, accompanied me when scouting out locations. Since Isle of Ease does not exist and is entirely a place of my imagination, he was off the hook with this work.
THE PLANNING
One morning in the month of February, a person sat at breakfast somewhere in Southern California, staring into space. No one would have imagined that beneath the stoic façade of this law-abiding citizen, murder was being plotted. Yet that was exactly what went on in the individual’s mind. Not that any facial expression would have mattered; he or she was alone. The planning was precise, down to every exacting detail. The wicked human even thought up a plan B, should there be unpredictable circumstances to ruin the ploy. With a slight nod, the person thought, yes, it will work like a charm, and with any luck, go down as accidental death. On the off chance that there would be a homicide investigation, there is no way the crime can be fixed on me.
The planner hesitated for a second. Is it worth the risk? What risk? There is none, in fact. No evidence leading to me will exist. Do I really want to go through with this? Sure as hell I do! The schemer went in search of pen and paper, wrote the entire plot down - - memorizing each aspect - - and then fed the lines into the shredder.
CHAPTER 1
Kurt Nobel, known as “The Real Estate King,” was ruthless in business yet generous with people in his personal life. For those who dared cross him, there was hell to pay. Physically, he was 54, six feet tall and in good shape, well-groomed, with brown hair graying at the temples and thinning on top.
At the moment, he watched his new young wife as she brushed her long, silky, blond hair in front of the vanity mirror. Absent minded, she had failed to notice him enter their bedroom. He stood, watching her composed movements.
Then he approached, addressing her image in the mirror and said, “What’s going on in that aloof head of yours?”
Barbie replied, “I read the guest list and have a question.”
“Feel free to add more of your friends.”
“No, Hope is the only one I care to invite.”
“What is it, then?”
She took a moment before voicing her objection. Finally, she asked, “Why do you want your former fianc ée to come?”
“Oh, that’s what’s eating you! I want to show Alexa that there are no hard feelings, is all.”
Barbie put her brush down and turned away from the mirror. Facing him, she stated, “I believe that deep down you’re still in love with her, whether you know it or not.”
“Alexa and I were done years ago. Are you that insecure?”
“Insecurity has nothing to do with it. I think it is a mistake to invite the Wellers.”
“You’re too late, my gorgeous worrywart; I’ve already mailed out the invitations.” That said, he kissed her on the forehead and left her to finish getting dressed for their dinner engagement that evening.
In order to get her mind off Alexa, Barbie cheered herself up by imagining what fun it would be to spend a week in the company of Hope. They had been thick as thieves together in high school and she trusted that their relationship had not changed. She was a bit apprehensive about what Hope would think of her marriage to Kurt, knowing how opinionated her friend could be. Kurt’s sister was okay, and her little girl was as sweet as pie. As for the rest of the people on the guest list, she hardly knew any of them and would be perfectly happy if it stayed that way.
Kurt walked over to his own closet to change clothes and thought, I can’t wait to show off my new bride and island mansion to the guests. The conversion of the place had ended up being a success beyond his expectations. Turning the hotel, which had operated at a loss, into his own private getaway was a stroke of genius.
 
The formal invitations went out in February and were met with mixed feelings among the recipients. They read:
“ You are cordially invited to Kurt and Barbie’s wedding celebration. The official wedding, which took place last month, was a private ceremony with only family and close friends. As the conversion of my hotel on the Isle of Ease into a vacation residence will be completed this spring, we would like to share the spot with you. It will be a week-long party, taking place from April 8 to April 14.
Here are the particulars: I will arrange for you to board a commercial return-flight to Honolulu, Hawaii, scheduled to get there before 2:00 p.m. on Saturday, April 8. A charter boat will take you to the island on that afternoon and will return you to Honolulu at the end of the week, Friday, April 14. During your stay, you can enjoy snorkeling, scuba diving, deep-sea fishing, or just relax on the beach and around the pool. We also have some indoor activities that may be of interest.
Please RSVP by March 5.”
It was signed:
“Looking forward to celebrate with you,
Kurt and Barbie Nobel”
There was a list of requested guests attached, which read:
“Kim Frederique with Evie Frederique
Hope De Luca
Neal Victor
Alexa and Max Weller
Sidney and Heather Ross
Rafi and Kate Simonian
Mike and Beatrice Triest.”
CHAPTER 2
Prosperous Max Weller, who made his fortune in generic drugs and medical patents, read the invitation twice and thought, weird, but interesting. He did not even attempt to guess how his wife, Alexa, would react. After four years together he should have been able to read her, but she remained a puzzle to him. Their marriage was on shaky grounds as of late, which made things even more complicated. He mulled over their issues, then shook off the eerie feeling that suddenly struck him and went online to do a bit of research.
Meanwhile, Alexa Weller was stuck on the 134 Freeway, homebound from her Westside law office to their home in South Pasadena. Even at 7:30 in the evening, traffic was still heavy. The 37-year-old defense attorney was a brunette with striking light-blue eyes that contrasted with her dark-brown hair. She was of medium height and slender, but her practice of wearing three-inch heals during trials made her look tall and imposing. Like all successful trial lawyers, she had a way with words and a knack for convincing people of her point of view. Her most compelling attribute to her professional triumphs was her low, commanding voice. Jurors had no choice but to take notice.
On that end-of-day commute, Alexa’s mind was first in work-mode, dwelling on her current case, but when the traffic jam eased and she got closer to South Pasadena, her thoughts drifted to what awaited her at home. What had gone wrong in her marriage? she wondered. Even before her little unimportant fling, things had no longer been harmonious between her and Max. They hardly talked to one another, each absorbed with their career. And when they did spend time together, they treaded on egg shells, careful not to broach the subject that was at the core of their dispute. He wanted children, and she definitely did not. She had made it clear before tying the knot that she neither had time nor patience to raise kids. Max, seven years her senior, seemed to have forgotten about that agreement and was now pressuring her into changing her mind.
To her surprise, she found Max waiting for her in the foyer when she got home.
He asked, “Have you had dinner?”
“No, I’m starved.”
“Maria prepared a chicken dish before she left. I ate mine and you may reheat yours in the microwave.”
Alexa thought, our housekeeper is a gem. Aloud she said sardonically, “Is there a reason you’re greeting me at the door?”
“I’ll tell you after you’ve eaten.”
He followed her into the kitchen, waited until she was done with her meal, then sat down on a stool next to hers at the center aisle. He handed her the Nobels’ invitation, saying, “This came with today’s mail.”
She read the sheet of paper, then laughed out loud.
“You find this amusing?”
“Highly! It is typical of the egomaniac to exhibit his singer trophy wife on his vacation paradise.”
“His bride is a singer?”
“You must have heard of her; she’s called ‘Barbie.’”
“I may have, but I don’t pay attention to pop music.”
She asked,