Rigged for Murder (Windjammer Mystery Series) Read Online Free Page B

brown eyes. “And what do you do when you’re not detecting?”
    DuLac was the only one to whom she’d revealed her line of work. To her relief he hadn’t asked any prying questions, seeming to sense she’d rather not discuss it. Now he skirted the issue with this personal query, which she was equally unprepared to answer. She looked again at the restless waters. “Actually, I wouldn’t know. This is my first vacation in a long time. I guess my work kind of consumes me.”
    John’s brows knit together as he watched her. “In that case, I’m honored you chose my ship.”
    Brie took a step back. “Well, I think I’ll go below and take a snooze before dinner. So, I’ll see you then, Captain.”
    “It’s a date,” he said, holding her eyes captive for a moment.
    Brie turned to go, feeling new warmth in her already windburned cheeks. She walked aft and descended the steep companionway ladder with the ease of one who’d had lots of practice.
    During her four days on board, Brie had explored every nook and cranny of the ship, poking her head into the various cabins, with their owners’ permission, and familiarizing herself with the store room, the galley, even the hold. She now owned a detailed mental diagram of the ship. The passenger cabins were divided into two groups, accessed by companionways at opposite ends of the ship. A third companionway descended to the galley, located in the bow of the ship.
    The aft compartment contained five passenger cabins plus the captain’s cabin, each with a built-in double berth that extended under the deck. The forward compartment contained four cabins—each with one or two double bunks—and a small storeroom that held extra line, sails, tools for making repairs, and kerosene for the lanterns. Forward and aft compartments also contained a head or marine toilet that the passengers in those areas shared. The lazarette, a small hold that contained stores of food and wood for the stove, sat behind the helm and was accessed through a hatch on deck. Two water tanks below deck held fresh water for drinking, cooking and showering.
    The door to Brie’s cabin was just a few feet from the companionway ladder on the port side of the ship. Stepping inside, she slipped off her sea boots and shed the yellow suspendered pants and hooded slicker that made up her foul-weather gear. Hours of exposure to the strong wind had chilled her to the core.
    She peeled off her jeans, leaving on her silk long underwear—always her first line of defense against the cold. She laid the jeans on the end of the berth so she could hop back into them after her nap. Next she removed her fleece jacket, but left on her thermal shirt. She rolled up the jacket, stuffed it into her duffel and took out her warmest sweater. As she pulled the baby-blue turtleneck over her head, she winced, feeling the familiar twinge from the scar on her left side. Theoretically the bullet wound had healed, but there were still times when it bothered her. Reaching up, she pulled the binder out of her ponytail. Long pale hair fell around her face and neck. She unconsciously flipped it forward to cover a pair of small, firm breasts she’d always wished were larger.
    Brie turned up the turtleneck on her sweater to cover her chin and part of her ears, and reveled in the warmth and softness of the heavy wool. At 36, she needed her creature comforts far more than when she had joined the police force in Minneapolis twelve years ago. A shiver ran through her as the sweater started to retain some of her body heat.
    She leaned against the berth, extended one leg back and began stretching calf muscles knotted from several hours of balancing on the
Maine Wind’s
sloping deck in strong winds. Then she threw back the top part of her sleeping bag and crawled in. Scrunching down into the bag, she pulled it up over her ear. Through the small rectangular window that gave out onto the deck, flashes of lightning sporadically illuminated the tiny cabin.