Rigged for Murder (Windjammer Mystery Series)

Winner of a 2009 Independent Publisher Award for Best Regional Fiction, and the 2009 RebeccasReads Award for Best Mystery/Thriller

“A winning combination of psychological thriller, police procedural, and action adventure. It’s a five-star launch for [LeClair’s] aptly named sea-going series and hopefully a precursor in an armada of others to follow…Tightly written and intricately constructed LeClair’s
Rigged for Murder
is first-class storytelling in a setting so authentic you can hear the ocean’s roar and taste the salt from the sea.”

—Mysterious Reviews

“An engaging New England whodunit…Readers will believe they are sailing on the schooner and waiting out the storm at Granite Island as Jenifer LeClair vividly captures the Maine background…With a strong support cast including the capable crew, the battling passengers, and the eccentric islanders to add depth, fans will enjoy
Rigged for Murder
.”

—Midwest Book Review

“Brie [Beaumont] is smart and competent, and she uses her brain and not her gun…Jenifer LeClair offers another appealing main character in
Rigged for Murder
, first in her Windjammer Series.”

—St. Paul Pioneer Press

“A strong plot, non-stop action, and first-class character development combine to make this an exciting, page-turning adventure novel. Adding to the tension, intrigue and mystery is the meticulous care in researching the details and terminology of sailing, lobstering, and the Maine coastal islands and communities… I have added Jenifer LeClair to my list of ‘must read’ authors and I am eagerly looking forward to the sequel to
Rigged for Murder
.

—Reader Views

“A debut mystery that is so well written you will hunger for more…Take a female cop on leave from the Minneapolis police force, a good looking sea captain, a crew of seasoned sailors, mix in a lyrically drawn sense of place, an approaching storm, a murder, well-developed characters, and superbly good writing, that’s Jenifer LeClair. Read this supremely engaging mystery and enjoy the ride.”

—Once Upon a Crime Mystery Bookstore

“
Rigged for Murder
is an exciting mystery with a little romance thrown in. The setting for this novel is unique and gives the reader insight into life aboard a sailing ship.”

—Armchair Reviews

“The story develops logically, with interesting twists…The setting and the weather are well-handled and provide strong context without obtrusiveness. The characters have depth and movement… LeClair gets the sea and the sailing just right.”

—Books ‘n’ Bytes

“The author did a good job of hiding who the killer was… To me that is the sign of a good writer…I recommend [
Rigged for Murder
] to anyone who likes mysteries and has an interest in sailing…This book is a great combination of the two.”

—RebeccasReads

“
Rigged for Murder
is a fast-paced story which rings true both aboard and ashore on island communities. The characters are real, the situations are downright scary, tension is palpable. I’m looking forward to more sailing and better weather aboard the
Maine Wind
in the next book of the series."

—John Foss, master/owner,
Schooner
American Eagle
, Rockland, Maine

Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as "unsold and destroyed" and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or to actual persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. For information about special discounts for bulk purchases contact [email protected].

RIGGED FOR MURDER

Copyright 2011 by Jenifer LeClair

All rights reserved. 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 publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Cover Design: Eric Lindsey

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011924284

LeClair, Jenifer.

Rigged for Murder: a novel / by Jenifer LeClair—2nd edition

ISBN: 978-0-9800017-1-6

Conquill Press/ July 2011

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

eBooks created by
www.ebookconversion.com

For my mother, Lynn Thibodeau, who gave me the writing gene, provided a great education, and taught me that anything is possible if you just wade in and get started.

For your reference, the author has included a glossary of sailing terms in the back of the book.

Like all writers of first books, I’ve depended on the support and encouragement of those closest to me. I extend my heartfelt gratitude to all who are named here. To my mother for her fine editing insights in the early stages, and for her loving support throughout. To my dear friend, Jeanette, who, throughout the writing of
Rigged
, patiently listened to me babble on about obscure plot and character details. Thank you also for your readings of
Rigged
and, most of all, for your unflagging friendship. To my son, Brian, for his quiet support and undemanding nature; for lots of vacuuming and running of errands, and for his willingness to go with lots of alternative dinners. To Craig for his love and belief in me, and for reading the manuscript and really liking it. To my daughter, Margot—you have a fine eye for nuance, and you are sunshine in my life. To Al for always being on the lookout for helpful reference materials—the books you’ve given me have been greatly helpful. To my brother, Joe, for reading the manuscript and encouraging me to press on with the search for a publisher. To my brother, Jim, USCG, for his input on Coast Guard procedures and marine radios. To Lonnie for all his support over the years; your help has given me the time to write. To Bob Middlemiss for his fine editing, and for his friendship. Jennifer Adkins for her amazing eye for detail. And Eric Lindsey for his wonderful cover design.

THANK YOU ALL.

A
DIRTY SKY BOILED OVERHEAD as the
Maine Wind
beat a course through heavy seas toward Granite Island. Blasts of wind heeled the ship over, and banshees wailed up and down her rigging. Her old timbers groaned as if she were in labor, but she plowed on under deeply reefed sails. Feet planted wide on the sloping deck, Captain DuLac gripped the wheel holding the schooner on a starboard tack. His eyes stung from the horizontal rain and the salt spray blowing off the tops of the waves. The liquid air had worked its way under his hood and ran cold down the back of his neck. He’d sailed in lots of foul weather, but this was a bad sea. A bad sea.

Fragments of the past four days flashed through his mind as he steered for the island. The cruise had started uneventfully enough. On Saturday they’d sailed out of Camden Harbor under a deceptively blue sky, the first windjammer of the season on Penobscot Bay. The passengers had donned warm jackets and watch caps and stretched out topside to enjoy ideal spring sailing. For three days a fresh breeze had driven them across a welcoming sea. In his mind’s eye DuLac saw osprey and eagles wheel above the spruce-jeweled islands that studded the Gulf of Maine, and he momentarily took refuge in that scene. On each of those days the salt air had rung with a clarity that stretched to the horizon—wind, sun, ship and sea in perfect harmonic balance.

But this morning had brought a scarlet dawn as the ship lay at anchor off Rogue Island. DuLac had watched a swollen sun rise from the eastern sea, and the familiar adage had rolled through his mind as it always did at such a dawn.
Red sky at morning, sailors take warning
.

As soon as breakfast was finished, he had given the order for crew and passengers to raise sail and weigh anchor. They set sail for Great Heron Island. For two and a half hours their course had taken them due east, reaching across a gusty southerly wind. By noon the elements displayed something akin to a rapid hormonal shift. The sea heaved with a dead roll, the wind turned to the northeast and the temperature dropped.

DuLac had turned the wheel over to his first mate, Scott Hogan, and had gone below to pull charts for two alternate destinations in case the weather continued to deteriorate. Granite Island had been his first choice. The anchorage in Lobsterman’s Cove on its southwestern shore had high bluffs. If she blew a nor’easter, they’d be safe there.

At 2:30 they had changed course and were now beating through steel-colored seas into a wind that had muscled its way toward a force 9 gale. Increasingly large waves broke over the ship’s bow, but DuLac still hoped to reach Granite Island by early evening. Except for his knuckles, white from the cold and his grip on the big wheel, little of the captain was visible beneath his foul-weather gear. But the gear hid a man handsome in anyone’s book. Just shy of six feet tall, he moved with a controlled ease that implied strength and staying power. His short-clipped dark hair set off a face with good bones—one that could have appeared hard were it not for a pair of surprisingly warm brown eyes. Aboard his ship he maintained the posture and demeanor suiting a captain, which frequently caused passengers to wonder what lay beneath. What currently lay beneath his impassive expression was a longing for the safety of the island that grew larger on the horizon as he steered the
Maine Wind
on an intersecting course.

T
he passengers had come on deck to escape the unsettling motion of the ship below decks, and now they huddled near the stern in their yellow raingear. Brie Beaumont stood alone at the starboard rail a few yards from the other passengers. She leaned into the wind as she balanced on the storm-washed deck. The force of the gale molded her foul-weather suit against her body. Strands of blond hair that had escaped her hood whipped about her head as she squinted into the rain.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth, which disconcerted her. She couldn’t remember genuinely smiling in the past fourteen months. There had been smiles, of course, but only as a pretense to convince those around her that she was fine. But she wasn’t fine. A bullet had changed all that. One bullet, two lives. One gone and one as good as. Since the night Phil died, her life had become a haze of pain and anxiety. Sadness darkened her soul, and wherever she went, a free-floating fear stalked her. She felt detached from people and things around her. Even the recent past had slipped into the same fog of forgotten days and months that had been piling up for over a year. Taking a leave from the department—boarding the plane in Minneapolis—the past few weeks in Maine. She tried to bring these into focus. But memories had become too dangerous because, in retrospect, everything connected to everything else, and before she knew it, she would be face to face with her demons. Only in her nightmares did Brie unwillingly look back.