A Vineyard Wedding

by Katie Winters

  “Falling apart a bit. I know,” Susan finished her sentence.

  There was the buzzing of a motor. Susan glanced down toward the beach, where Sam, Amanda, Audrey, and Noah appeared in the speedboat. They looked so vibrant, so excited. Amanda and Audrey’s hair flowed wildly through the breeze, and their legs already flashed brown with late-spring tans. They were portraits of youth and vitality. Susan’s heart ached with fatigue. It was such a contrast.

  As they latched up the boat, Sam lifted his phone to his ear. Susan could see it all the way from the porch: there was something wrong. He hustled up the hill toward the house and hollered to Susan.

  “Hey! Susan! There’s an incident at the Sunrise Cove. We need to get over there right now. It’s just Natalie at the desk.”

  Susan’s heart leaped into her throat. “What kind of incident?” she cried. She rushed through the shadows of the house, past the sleeping Max in his little carrier, and all the way to the driveway, where she leaped into the passenger seat of Sam’s car. It was all a mad dash. There wasn’t a moment of clarity. Sam pressed his foot on the gas as Susan demanded more information, “Did Natalie say anything else?”

  “She’s apparently hiding in the office. Zach called the police from the bistro.”

  Susan splayed her hands on the dash as they rushed toward the Inn. Once there, they hopped from the car and ran headlong for the foyer door. They then peered through the window as a number of sirens blared behind them.

  There, Susan recognized Scott. He had a man pressed against the top of the front desk, with both of his hands latched behind his back. Scott’s muscles were tense; he clearly used all his power as the man beneath him flailed around, attempting to flee.

  Susan crashed through the door, gasping for air. “Scott?” she cried.

  Scott turned his head wildly toward her. His eyes flashed. “Susan. You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Is that her? Is that that f—” But before the man beneath Scott could blare out his curse words, Scott pressed harder on his wrists so that he howled with pain.

  In a moment, the police burst through the foyer door. They latched the man’s wrists together with handcuffs and lifted him to standing. The man was maybe thirty or thirty-five, clearly strung-out, with beady black eyes and light skin, tinged with red. When he spoke, his accent was hard, clearly from the city of Boston. He glared at Susan with malice.

  “Susan Sheridan,” the man growled.

  At this moment, the police officer yanked him toward the door. Susan stepped to the side. All the while, she kept her eyes latched to his.

  “Susan Sheridan, why don’t you just stay on your cozy little island and keep to yourself?” the man continued. He leered at her ominously, then; Susan felt she’d never seen a more horrendous smile.

  Susan was speechless. She knew there was nothing she could say, not there in front of the police. Not with Scott beside her.

  Suddenly, the man hacked up a huge spit and blasted it across the floor at her feet. Susan kept her face stoic. She knew better than to show such a man any sign of weakness.

  In a moment, the officer pushed the man into the back of the police car. Another office remained at the inn to interview witnesses. He stepped toward Zach, first, as Zach had been the first to dial 9-1-1.

  At this first moment of reprieve, Susan spun into Scott’s arms and allowed him to hold her tight in his arms. Her legs shook so bad that her knees knocked together. Fear rushed through her. It seemed clear that whoever that man was, he was associated with the case and he hadn’t come to Martha’s Vineyard for any reason beyond causing potential harm to Susan herself.

  Scott leaned back and splayed a hand across her cheek. He shook his head slowly, softly, and dotted his nose on hers. “Susan. What the heck have you gotten yourself involved in?”

  Susan allowed herself to laugh the slightest bit. “It’s been a really wild time.”

  Scott’s hand wrapped around the back of her head. “I am so glad I was here. One of the cabinets upstairs had broken, and Natalie asked me to take a look at it.”

  “You saved the day all over again,” Susan said. She then turned toward the back hallway, where a flustered Natalie appeared. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

  Zach finished up his conversation with the cop. The cop then took Scott’s statement. Slowly, the air in the foyer returned to normal. Sam bustled behind the front desk to discuss what had happened with worried guests. He still wore his swim trunks and a light blue polo shirt, but he exuded professionalism and ensured all the guests were taken care of.

  The cop stopped at Susan just before he left. “I have a feeling we’ll need to take you down to the station for more information. We’re going to speak with the guy first. Why don’t you relax for the night? You’ll hear from us tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good,” Susan said. Her voice wavered the slightest bit.

  When the cop disappeared, Scott wrapped a hand around Susan’s waist and said, “I have to go pick Kellan up from an after-school activity.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Susan told him. The idea of being away from this man — her protector — filled her with dread. She dropped her head on his chest as they walked slowly toward his truck. In the passenger seat, tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Do you have a hunch of who that guy is?” Scott asked as they eased toward the high school.

  “I do, actually,” Susan whispered. “And if everything works out, he might have just made a huge mistake. He might be the key to my entire case.”

  Scott shook his head as he drove. “I don’t know how you do any of this. It terrifies me.”

  “It terrifies me, too. But I have to keep fighting. I can’t let this guy get to me. Marcie is up in Boston and she’s facing a life sentence. The entire city thinks she’s guilty. If that belligerent man just gave himself away...” Susan rubbed her palms together.

  “One day at a time,” Scott said with a funny laugh. “Let’s just focus on tonight. You’re safe. For one more day, you’re safe.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Susan awoke the following morning, she felt the strong arm of Scott Frampton around her stomach, holding her tightly against him. It had been weeks since she had enjoyed such a wonderful feeling — this moment of eternal safety, of comfort, of love, and she allowed herself to stew in the beauty of it, even as Scott’s light snores filled the air over them.

  The previous night, Scott, Susan, and Kellan had decided to stay at the Sheridan house. There was a comfort in knowing they were all together beneath one roof and besides, Scott had been the one to add the extra bedrooms downstairs. He had understood that sometimes, the Sheridan family needed to be close, especially after so many years of disconnection.

  Kellan hadn’t protested the arrangement. In fact, he had immediately suggested that he sleep on the couch. Christine and Lola had both insisted he take one of the beds, as they both had elsewhere to stay. Even now, Susan felt she could hear Kellan’s snores rip out from one of the other upstairs bedrooms. The previous night, he’d been so tender with baby Max that her heart had swelled at the sight of it. In truth, Kellan was just a teenaged boy with a huge heart on the brink of the turmoil that went with growing up. Susan would be there to help him if he allowed her to.

  She knew better than most that you had to be able to trust your guardians to guide you. After her mother’s death, she hadn’t been able to lean on her father at all. It had caused a near-permanent rift, one they had spent the previous year mending as best as they could. But love was powerful in the Sheridan family; it was almost as though Anna had draped them in it from above.

  Christine returned to the house just past seven and announced that she would make everyone a big pancake breakfast. “I’ve been up since four making scones and croissants at the bistro. Can’t say I’m ready to quit yet!” she said as she sifted several cups of flour into a large mixing bowl.

  “You’re insane, Christine, my queen,” Lola said as she poured herself a
mug of coffee. “Anyone else? Coffee?”

  Kellan lifted his hand, and Lola nodded. “Sure. Cream? Sugar?”

  “Black,” Kellan affirmed.

  Susan and Scott gave one another knowing looks. Sure enough, the moment Kellan sipped his strong black coffee, he grimaced. He didn’t say anything, though. He wanted to man up. Be one of the adults.

  “Still no word from the station?” Christine asked as she whipped through the pancake batter.

  “No,” Susan said. “Although I have a hunch they’ll call me in this morning.”

  “Can’t believe that guy made it all the way to the Sunrise Cove!” Lola said, her brow furrowed. “I guess it’s not so difficult to learn where we’re located. All our names are on the website. ‘A family inn experience!’ Maybe we should change that? Especially if you’re going to be working with more criminals?”

  Susan shook her head. “I never imagined that merging my old world with my new one would create such a mess. I might have to rethink that after this case.”

  Christine and Lola exchanged glances again — ones that suggested they’d always suspected this would be an enormous mess.

  “All right, I get it. You want to think you’re smarter than your big sister,” Susan teased. “And maybe, in this very small, very tiny respect, you might be right.”

  “Finally, I’ve waited almost forty years to hear that,” Lola said with a sigh.

  “Oh my gosh! That’s right. Lola. The big four-oh this summer,” Christine said as she whacked her elbow into Lola’s shoulder. “Over the hill!”

  “Don’t remind me. I’m already a grandmother. What’s next?” Lola heaved a sigh.

  “How lucky we all are to grow old,” Susan said with a wide smile.

  “And how lucky the hair-dye manufacturer is to profit off of us,” Lola returned.

  Susan’s phone buzzed on the table. She lifted it and received word that yes, in fact, the police station needed her to come down in the wake of their interview with the sad sack of a man they’d taken up from the Sunrise Cove the previous evening. Susan’s eyes met with Scott’s as he nodded.

  “Let’s take you downtown, Susan Sheridan,” he said.

  “Sounds so dreary when you say it like that,” she returned.

  “Kellan? You’re good here?”

  “All good,” Kellan said. He then turned toward Wes, who was stationed in the corner with a newspaper. “Grandpa Wes. I don’t suppose you’d like to go out for a little bird watching?”

  UP AT THE STATION, one of the officers who had apprehended the subject informed Susan that the man was “incredibly volatile.” His name was Marvin. Marvin Stokes.

  “He was pretty drunk and high when we picked him up yesterday. And now, he’s obviously come down from that, so he’s miserable,” the cop explained. “He said a lot of jibberish. But he also suggested that you’re in some way after him— that you know too much. Anyway, I looked you up and it seems like you’re in the midst of a pretty hefty trial up in Boston. Any chance this has something to do with that?”

  “About a one hundred percent chance, yes.” Susan arched an eyebrow and then added, “I don’t suppose I can talk to him, can I?”

  “Of course. We can bring him into the interrogation room for you.”

  “Perfect.”

  While the cop arranged for this, Scott gripped Susan’s elbow. “Are you sure you want to talk to that raving lunatic?”

  “I have to,” Susan told him pointedly. “I know I seemed like a frightened little girl last night, but this really means a lot to me. And I have to press him for more info, especially when he’s in this kind of state. He’s vulnerable right now and I need to take full advantage of that.”

  The man who sat across from Susan Sheridan at the interrogation table was sallow; he reeked of urine and sweat, and his shoulders sagged so low that there were big, hollow holes along his neckline. Susan thought something similar as when she’d encountered Jimmy at that drug house. What on earth had happened to this man along the strange and winding road of life? What had led him to this state? Where was his mother? Did anyone love him?

  But she couldn’t show such compassion. Not now.

  Susan pressed RECORD on her phone beneath the table. She then lifted her eyes toward his dead ones and said, “Why did you come to Martha’s Vineyard yesterday?”

  Martin’s eyes rolled back in his head. Susan could practically feel the severity of what he was going through. Guaranteed, it was the start of a withdrawal.

  “I came to see you, Susan Sheridan.” He licked his lips strangely.

  Susan didn’t allow herself to react. “Did you come because you’re in some way affiliated with Jimmy, who I brought to the witness stand for the case against Marcie Shean?”

  “Affiliated? You could say that.” Marvin gave her a horrible smile.

  “And did you happen to know Vincent Camden? The man who was murdered on November 13th?”

  “Oh, sure. Anyone who was anyone knew Vincent,” Marvin returned.

  Susan arched an eyebrow. “Can you tell me your history with Vincent Camden?”

  Marvin leaned back. He strained to cross his arms over his chest, although one of his hands remained latched to the table, so he didn’t get so far.

  “It’s a difficult life; once you’re in that world to really explain it to a woman like you. A rich woman, I mean. A woman who grew up with everything.”

  Susan swallowed the lump in her throat. She was used to these kinds of “insults” from men like him, at least in her previous era of criminal defense.

  “Did you kill Vincent Camden because he owed you money?” Susan asked, point-blank.

  At this, Marvin burst into laughter — the kind that showed all three of his bright gold teeth and the depth of his dimples. Susan imagined that he’d actually been quite a cute kid back in the day.

  “I didn’t kill Vincent.”

  “But you know who did. And you want to protect them for some reason,” Susan shot out, hoping he would take the bait.

  Marvin shrugged. “Who’s to say? You damn lawyers, on the other side, always make up your own little stories, anyway. Everyone wants to believe that Marcie killed Vincent. It’s a romantic idea that the beautiful girl killed her boyfriend. It’s perfect for a documentary series, the kind that asks — what made this stunning girl crack?”

  Susan’s nostrils flared. He had already given her enough to take up to the court in Boston. This idea that the world wanted to believe Marcie had killed Vincent provided such a beautiful, reasonable doubt. Still, she would have loved to press this guy further, to at least produce a name.

  “Who introduced you to Vincent, then?” Susan asked.

  Marvin clucked his tongue. “You ain’t getting that out of me. No way.”

  “Okay. Well. Maybe they can up in Boston,” Susan said. She stood, and her chair squeaked against the cement floor, which made Marvin wince. “I guess I’ll see you there soon. Thanks for stopping by the Vineyard when you could. It’s particularly beautiful this time of year, isn’t it?”

  She then sauntered out of the interrogation room and pressed her finger on her phone to stop the recording. Her heart surged into her throat as her eyes found Vincent’s. She performed the tiniest of dances there at the police station and said, “I knew she didn’t do it. But I’m so, so glad that everywhere I look, there’s even more evidence that she’s innocent. I’m going to get her out of this. I just know it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Susan paced back and forth in the living area at the Sheridan house as she conducted business call after business call with various members of the Boston police force and court system. She’d sent along the recording she had taken, along with what she suspected regarding the actual murderer of Vincent Camden, and she pressed them to take action and discover the “real story.”

  “A young, innocent girl is believed to be a murderer in this extremely difficult case, but it seems clear to me that this man’s appearance at my
family inn is reason enough to prove that there is much more to this case than meets the eye,” Susan blared.

  When she hung up the phone, she gasped for breath and blinked down at the trail she had dragged back and forth across the rug in the living area. She felt slightly manic, a bit high strung. When she lifted her eyes to find Scott and Kellan on the back porch, her heart grew tremendously. Their voices merged with the soft rhythm of Wes’s, who sat on the other side of the picnic table. When she joined them, they turned to look at her with bright, vibrant eyes.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said cheerfully.

  “Not at all,” her father said. “We were just saying how impressed we are with you. Hard to believe you grew up here. From such humble beginnings! Now, you’re this high-powered criminal lawyer, and, well...” Wes shook his head. “I know you always were before back in Newark. But this is the first I’ve really seen you in action. Everyone stops me on the island, completely overwhelmed with the work you’ve done. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

  “They stop me, too,” Scott chimed in. “I think they think I’m a schlub when compared to you.”

  “No way,” Susan said. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, suddenly embarrassed. She’d been in such a work-zone that now, life on the exterior of that seemed strained. “I kind of need to walk or something. Get out of the house.”

  “I’ll join you,” Scott said. “Just let me grab something upstairs.”

  “You guys going to be okay here?” Susan asked.

  “Kellan is an amazing bird scout,” Wes said. “I know we discussed it last summer, but he’s really put it to action today. We might go out later if my old legs don’t give out on me.”

  “We get a pretty good view of some of them from right here on this porch,” Kellan said. “And now that it’s nearly summer, we’ll have a cornucopia of varied creatures. So much better than in Boston. There, the pickings were slim.”