Bryna moved with calculated speed, but was extremely careful not to touch anything that wasn't necessary. Since she had been reading crime novels since before she could drive, she felt that if any civilian was going to step up and be competent in this situation, it would have to be her, because it was definitely not going to be the hyperventilating Madeline.
In ten strides, Bryna was next to the body. The blood on the Reverend's lapels looked more coagulated than she had previously thought, which didn't bode well. Her humanity and respect for the dead begged her to take the knife out of the Reverend's chest, but she stopped herself. Her fingerprints were already on the doorknob and it would be downright incriminating for them to be found on the murder weapon as well.
Bryna placed her fingers on the crook of the Reverend's neck, right underneath his jawbone, searching for a pulse. She also bent forward, placing her cheek near his lips, searching for any signs of breath. The clammy skin underneath her fingertips remained still, and she heard no gasping, felt no faint breeze against her face. There were no signs of life, just the slight scent of bitter almond lingering on his lips from his last sip of coffee.
Knowing there was nothing to be done for the man, other than to do no further damage to the crime scene, Bryna quickly stepped back out of the library, pushing Madeline out with her, and slammed the door.
"Is he...?" Madeline squeaked out between ragged gasps for air.
"I'm afraid so," Bryna quietly replied. She hung her head. She had never really liked the man, something about him had always given her the creeps, but nobody deserved to die like that.
"What the hell is going on?" a man yelled as he ran down the hallway towards them. "Who screamed?" He halted as he neared the library doors and saw the shocked state Madeline was in. He then turned towards Bryna, seeing as she was the only one in a possible state to answer some questions. "What happened?"
Bryna had to tilt her head upwards slightly to look at the man's face. She estimated he probably had at least a half foot on her. His frame was slender, but beneath his bright blue shirt and dark washed jeans, Bryna could tell there was toned strength there. It was mirrored in his bronze eyes, whose gaze was hard like the very metal. Fear prickled at the base of Bryna's spine for a moment. She hoped that this man was not the murderer, for he looked like he could easily do away with her as well. And yet, there was a part of her that was unafraid and urged to reach out, to touch the midnight waves that had been swept behind his earlobe.
The sound of another set of footsteps echoing down the hall broke the staring match between them.
"I asked," the man's voice was low and dangerous, "what happened?"
He stepped towards the door, his hand reaching for the doorknob. Bryna jumped in front of him, blocking his path.
"Don't," she said. She wasn't sure who this man was, and she definitely wasn't letting him traipse around the crime scene and destroy any valuable evidence.
There was a flash of anger in the man's eyes, and Bryna braced herself to be shoved aside, but he was the one who was pushed as another man barreled into him.
"Sorry," the second man panted, "the scream startled me. Unfortunately I wasn't as quick on my feet as Alex here was, and I managed to trip over my pool cue trying to get out the door."
Bryna watched as Lucas Massey, a longtime childhood friend of hers, leaned on the man, holding himself up as he caught his breath. Although, when he caught sight of the glazed look on Madeline's face, he went over to bundle her up in his arms, letting her sob into his chest. More worried, now that he realized the situation was graver than he thought, he peered at Bryna curiously, his eyes full of confusion.
Bryna stared into the pale blue eyes of her friend. Lucas too had known Reverend Bodee since before his bright blonde hair had faded to the dusky golden color of wheat it was now. How could she even begin to tell him what was behind the door she carefully guarded?
"We need to alert the authorities," Bryna finally stated.
"Why?" She turned to look into the cool eyes of the man hovering near her. There was a fierce challenge in them, which had Bryna straightening her spine.
"I'm afraid there's been a murder."
"All right, is this the lot?" an authoritative voice rang out across the room.
"Yes, all accounted for," a second man quietly spoke from behind the first.
Bryna surveyed the lounge where everyone had been gathered. There were a little over a dozen people scattered around the room. The couches were plentiful and overly cushioned, and with the way the fire crackled in the hearth, the setting could have been quite nice and cozy, if everyone's mood wasn't so dismal.
Across from the leather armchair she sat on the edge of, Lucas still had his arm around Madeline, trying his best to comfort her. At the other end of the couch, Thaddeus Bryant mirrored the consoling pose, letting Erin sniffle against his shoulder. On the suede, L-shaped sofa in the front corner, closest to the door, Priscilla Acker and Aubrey Bryant, mother of the groom, sat with their heads together. Bryna was sure that the two women were doing enough gossiping for the entire group. Quentin and Dahlia Juniper, Erin's parents and a couple that had been almost as important in Bryna's life as her own parents, were standing, stoic, at the small wet bar in the back of the room. Bryna could see Dahlia's hand visibly shaking and Quentin's knuckles were white as he held his tumbler in a death grip. Two middle-aged women in starched outfits embroidered with the house's crest on their shoulder, stood near the ruddy-faced, quiet man Bryna had briefly met when she arrived on the island. Seeing that he was the owner of the mansion, she assumed he was the women's employer.
A movement from in front of the picturesque windows that lined the east facing wall of the house, caught Bryna's attention. Alex, the name played through her mind. She had done the math, and she was certain that the moody man was the second groomsman, a college friend of Thad's. He was quite handsome, she couldn't deny that. Although, she didn't know if his looks were as "deadly" as Erin had described. Turning, as if he had felt Bryna's gaze on his back, their eyes locked. Bryna felt that tingle at the base of her spine again-though this time the sensation had to do with more than just fear-and as much as it hurt her pride, she quickly adverted her eyes. Then again, she decided, deadly might have been the perfect choice.
"I'm afraid I'm not one for sugar coating things," the commandeering voice rang out again. "What happened here today was murder, and there is no way to downplay the severity of that fact."
Bryna couldn't help but like the man. Maybe it was his no nonsense, brisk attitude. Maybe it was the way he simply introduced himself as Inspector Claude Brown, showed everyone his badge, then ushered them into the lounge, much like a sheepdog herds the flock. Maybe it was because he was a stout man who didn't seem to care that wearing two shades of khaki was a fashion faux-pas. It was probably a mix of these things, but most importantly, he was the man in charge, and she knew if she was going to satisfy her curiosity and keep current on the facts of the case, he was the man she needed to get close to.
"If you're wondering why I've gathered you in here-" Inspector Brown started.
"Excuse me sir," Quentin Juniper interrupted. "I hate to be rude, but I fail to understand how the authorities, having just been alerted of the crime, have been able to send a representative over already."
"Allow me to explain," Rusty, who was used to placating many a distressed guest staying in his mansion, stepped forward.
"No need for that Mr. Marsden," Inspector Brown waved him aside. "You see, for insurance purposes, since the island is X distance away from the mainland, when paying guests are here, so must be a representative of the police force. Usually, it's a boring job of brainless babysitting, and I was most disappointed by having drawn the short straw for duty this weekend... but it seems my time here shall be much more interesting than previously expected."
"My goodness," Priscilla Acker gasped. "Murder is not something one should find amusing."
"I beg to differ," Inspector Brown chided, his demeanor not even dented by the woman's snobbish tone. "I would say you are very fortunate to find yourself with an Inspector who is engrossed in the case, seeing as one of the very people standing in this room is the killer."
Glass shattered against the floor. Everyone's heads whipped around to see the shocked look on Dahlia's face.
"You must be mistaken," her words were but a whisper.
"I'm afraid I'm not," the Inspector began, taking advantage of the sudden silence from the crowd. "Every person known to be on this island-every known alive person, that is- is in this room. The rest of the staff and guests were not due in until tomorrow morning."
"Couldn't it have been an outside job?" Thad offered up.
"I cannot rule it out entirely," Inspector Brown rubbed his chin. "However, it's extremely unlikely. One, such stabbing is a crime of passion, usually not seen from a hired hit. Two, I've been walking the grounds for most of the evening, and a foreign boat would hardly have gone undetected. You see, the island has two boats that dock to it's pier. One, almost a ferry, is currently at the mainland waiting to pick up tomorrow's guests. The other, a smaller vessel used mostly for emergencies, has had it's motor smashed quite good. Which means, the murderer is stuck here among us.
"And that is why I gathered you all in here quickly. I need to determine alibis before anyone has time to cook up a false story. Then I'll take individual statements from each of you. Everything else can wait until morning, when more of the force arrives."
"I hate to be the bearer of even more bad news," Alex's deep voice floated from the windows. He pointed out them and towards the sky. Even in the twilight, it was easy to see the clouds gathering and the sky bruising with the darkness of the coming onslaught. "But, there will be no boats sailing on these waters tomorrow."