Word to the Wise

by Jenn McKinlay

  “You!” She pointed at Chloe and then rounded on Lindsey. “And you! I should have known! The two of you are in cahoots. How long have you been planning his murder? How long?”

  Sylvia was dressed in business attire consisting of a gray skirt with a matching blazer over a white blouse. A pin was stuck in her lapel, the kind given out for employees who’d lasted ten years or more. This one had a medical emblem over a rising sun, so maybe she was a nurse. The thought horrified Lindsey.

  Sylvia didn’t wait for an answer to her question but instead launched herself at Chloe.

  “What the hell?” Emma cried. She jumped forward to grab Sylvia, but she wasn’t quick enough.

  Sylvia grabbed a hank of Chloe’s hair and yanked the young woman toward her. Lindsey and Sully both jumped forward to protect Chloe. Lindsey caught Sylvia’s hand and used the bend-the-index-finger-back technique that Emma had taught them in their one-time self-defense class. With a yelp, Sylvia let go.

  “Oy, why do I always miss the good stuff?” Robbie dashed out of the restaurant behind them.

  Detective Trimble grabbed Sylvia around the middle and hauled her back a few paces. She was huffing and puffing and trying to jerk out of his hold. Emma moved to stand right in front of her. She glowered and snapped, “Stop it, or I’ll use my Taser on you. Don’t think I won’t.”

  Sylvia immediately began to sob and wail. Trimble jerked his head in the direction of the station. “I’ll take her back. You find out what this is about, and bring food with you when you come back.”

  “Right,” Emma said. She turned toward Lindsey and Chloe, who was rubbing the sore spot on her head. Emma looked equal parts furious and interested. “Explain.”

  “We were actually on our way to see you,” Lindsey said. At Emma’s doubtful expression, she added, “I swear.”

  “Come on,” Sully said. “Let’s go talk in my office, where it’s quiet.” He jerked his head in the direction of the gawkers who had gathered at the restaurant windows.

  Emma gave them a brusque nod and began to walk down the pier. Robbie fell into step beside her, and she arched an eyebrow at him. “What do you have to do with this?”

  “Me?” He put a hand on his chest in a protestation of innocence. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Sully’s office had been locked up for the night. He used his key to open the door, and they all entered. There were two couches in the corner. Lindsey and Chloe took one; Robbie and Emma took the other. Sully wheeled Ronnie’s desk chair out and sat in it, facing the group.

  “Emma Plewicki, this is Chloe Weber,” Lindsey said. “Chloe, Emma is the Briar Creek chief of police.”

  “Oh,” Chloe said. Then her eyes went wide as it registered. “Oh!”

  Emma studied her and said, “Care to share why Sylvia called you a murderer and tried to rip the hair off your head?”

  Chloe’s shoulders sank, and Lindsey reached over and patted her back. “Hey, remember, you’re not alone. Just tell Emma what you told us.”

  Chloe glanced at Lindsey and then swallowed hard and lifted her head to meet Emma’s hard stare. “I wrote an article about Aaron Grady’s rose garden last year. Afterward, he began stalking me, and I had to pack up and move. I even changed my name to get away from him.”

  Emma’s eyebrows lifted. Her posture relaxed and she said, “Go on.”

  Chloe told Emma exactly what she’d told Lindsey and Sully. When she was finished, Emma had her chin cupped in her hand, and she was tapping her jaw with her index finger, as if pondering all this information.

  “I’ll need you to come to the station and make a formal statement,” she said.

  “All right,” Chloe said. “And just so you know, I didn’t kill Grady. I didn’t even know he was dead until Lindsey called me.”

  Emma’s head turned in Lindsey’s direction. “About that. How did you find Chloe?”

  Lindsey recounted the phone calls she’d made. She left Robbie out of it, but Emma wasn’t fooled. She glanced at him and said, “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

  “Only in a passing sort of way,” he said.

  “Right,” she said. She turned back to Chloe. “Aaron Grady was murdered early this morning; can you account for your whereabouts at that time?”

  Chloe’s face went pale. She looked at Lindsey, her eyes wide with worry. Then she shook her head.

  “No, I live alone,” she said. “I haven’t been off my island in over a week. I only came in today to meet Lindsey.”

  “Has anyone been out to your island?” Emma asked.

  “No,” Chloe said. “I’m house-sitting for a family who is traveling.”

  Emma nodded. “If you can think of any way to confirm your whereabouts, that would be great.”

  “Am I going to be arrested?” Chloe asked.

  “Not at this time,” Emma said. Her voice was soft. “But you are a person of interest, so I suggest you not leave the area until further notice.”

  Chloe looked stricken. Lindsey nudged her with an elbow. “Don’t worry.” She gestured between herself and Sully. “We’re also persons of interest, so it’s like a club.”

  “A really bad club no one wants to be in,” Sully said. Then he smiled. “So welcome.”

  Chloe chuckled, and Lindsey was hit with how much she appreciated Sully’s ability to try to cheer up others. It was a good quality to have in a husband. He was going to be her husband. Sometimes—at the weirdest times, in fact—the reality just sneaked up on her that they were getting married and soon. The thought filled her with joy, which was immediately tempered by the realization that they’d better figure out who killed Aaron Grady, so that Sully wouldn’t be arrested for a crime he didn’t commit.

  “Do you know when we’ll get a ballistics report back?” Lindsey asked.

  “Trimble asked them to rush it, but you know the crime lab,” Emma said.

  “They’ll get to it when they can,” Lindsey said.

  “Exactly,” Emma said. She rose from her seat. She took her phone out and called a number. “Hey, I’m taking Chloe Weber to the station for her statement. Could you keep Mrs. Grady away from the lobby?” There was a pause. “Thanks.”

  Emma hung up the phone and glanced at Chloe. “You ready?”

  Chloe nodded. She rose to her feet, and Lindsey was pleased to see that her spine was stiff and she wasn’t looking as timid as she had when she first arrived. They all walked outside.

  “Chloe, I can give you a ride back to your island when you’re done at the station,” Sully said. “It’s tricky to navigate the water out there in the dark.”

  “Thanks, but don’t worry about me,” Chloe said. “I’m the daughter of a former navy man. He’d have considered it a dereliction of his fatherly duty not to teach his kids how to navigate all sorts of boats, day or night, in all types of water.”

  To their credit, no one batted an eye at her admission. Lindsey and Sully watched Chloe walk between Emma and Robbie down the pier toward the station, and for just the briefest moment, Lindsey wondered, if Chloe’s dad was a navy man, could she have gotten his gun? Might she be the killer after all?

  * * *

  • • •

  You’re awfully quiet,” Sully said. “Are you all right?”

  They were home, sitting outside on the back deck while Heathcliff ran around the yard, smelling all the smells. He was in his glory now that his people were home for the night. Lindsey watched him track the scents as he tried to figure out who had been in his yard. He reminded her of a detective searching for clues.

  Lindsey glanced at Sully. The air was still hot and heavy. Moths flittered in and out of the yellow porch light. Over the rise that separated their yard from the beach, Lindsey could hear the waves crashing, and the faintest breeze, little more than a puff of breath, moved the air acr
oss her skin.

  “I’m just turning over the possibility that Chloe is the person who shot Grady,” she said. “I don’t want to believe it, but if she packed up everything and moved and then the person she was trying to get away from showed up in her new home, well, she might have snapped.”

  “And her father is former navy,” Sully said. “So it’s possible she had access to a service revolver like the SIG Sauer.”

  “Exactly,” Lindsey said.

  “Except that doesn’t answer the question of where my gun went,” Sully said. “Chloe couldn’t have taken it. She didn’t know me or you or any of us before today. And I just have a hinky feeling that the weapon used to kill Grady was mine.”

  “Really?” Lindsey asked. “Did Emma show you the weapon that was recovered at the scene? Could you identify it if it was yours?”

  “No, it was already bagged and tagged and off to the crime lab by the time I caught up to the situation,” Sully said.

  “Any word from Ian or Charlie about the security video?”

  “Charlie is downloading it tonight,” he said. “Emma requested all the footage we have, but most of it’s stored on the cloud, so Charlie is duplicating it while he downloads it for Emma so we can review it, too. The problem is we only keep a month’s worth of video. If someone broke in and took my gun before that, we’ll have no record of it.”

  “Who knew you kept your gun there?” she asked.

  “Just Ronnie, Ian and me. We’re the only ones with access to the safe.”

  “So it makes no sense that Chloe would have broken into your office and stolen your gun to shoot Grady,” Lindsey said.

  “No, I’ve never even met her before today,” he said. “And I believe her when she says she didn’t know Grady was here in town. I don’t think you can fake that sort of shock.”

  “You really think your gun was the weapon used to kill Grady?”

  Sully met her gaze, and his look was concerned. “Yes, which means whoever did it knew that Grady and I had words at the restaurant, and they were looking to set me up for the murder.”

  “Then it seems that the most likely time of the break-in was last night after our incident at the Blue Anchor but before Robbie and I found the body,” she said.

  “And I’m hoping the video shows it,” Sully said.

  A yawn slipped out of Lindsey, and she relaxed back in her chair. The horrendous events of the day had finally caught up with her, and she could feel sleep claiming her for the night.

  “Come on,” Sully said. “Let’s call it a day. We can talk more about this tomorrow. With any luck, Charlie will have found something on the video.”

  They rolled out of the chairs, and Lindsey whistled for Heathcliff to come. He bounded up the steps and onto the deck. Lindsey bent down and rubbed his ears. He was such a fierce protector of his people. She remembered the night he had growled at Grady when he had arrived here uninvited. It was a relief to Lindsey that she no longer had to look over her shoulder, but there was no way she’d let Grady’s murder get pinned on Sully.

  There had to be a way to find out who had wanted Grady dead and who had wanted it badly enough to do it.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Charlie called early in the morning and asked Sully to meet him at the office. He had downloaded all the security videos and was in the process of cleaning them up so the resolution was better.

  Lindsey offered to go, too, but Sully told her to go ahead and meet her parents for breakfast and that he’d call her if they found anything. She watched him go, hoping they would. A nice close-up of a person stealing Sully’s gun would go a long way to boosting her morale.

  She enjoyed omelets with her folks, careful not to let anything slip about Grady or the gun or Sully being a suspect. Thankfully, their visit with the Sullivans had been busy and gave them plenty to talk about, and they didn’t notice that Lindsey was quieter than usual. Afterward, she took Heathcliff for a run on the beach. Sometimes a gal just had to try to outrun her demons, and as Lindsey pounded down the sandy shore, she hoped she was leaving some of hers behind.

  The day was already hot, and she lingered under the cold spray of the shower, knowing full well that as soon as she got out, she’d be hot and wet, making the whole process of showering rather pointless.

  She dressed for work, planning to head over to the dock to see whether any progress had been made, then heard a car pull into her driveway. She glanced outside and recognized Emma. She wondered whether she was here to see Sully. Curious, Lindsey stepped out the front door with Heathcliff at her side.

  “Good morning, Em,” she called. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Always,” Emma said. She trudged up the stairs and followed Lindsey into the house. “Is Sully here?”

  “No, he already left for work,” Lindsey said. “Do you need him?”

  She watched Emma’s face, looking for an indication of why she wanted Sully. Was she going to arrest him?

  “Actually, it was you I wanted to see,” Emma said. She took the cup of coffee Lindsey poured. She drank it black, which Lindsey admired. She supposed years of no sleep and staying up late had given Emma the fortitude to down the bitter brew, but Lindsey was a dribble-of-milk-and-spoonful-of-sugar type of coffee drinker, and she didn’t think that would change anytime soon.

  “What about?” Lindsey asked.

  Emma studied her for a moment. She blew out a breath and said, “Do you have some time this morning? I want to show you something.”

  Her tone was serious, alarmingly so. Lindsey resisted the urge to crack wise to lessen the tension. Whatever was making the pinched lines around Emma’s eyes was not something to joke about.

  “I don’t have to go in until later this morning since I’m closing tonight,” Lindsey said. “I’m free now.”

  “Good,” Emma said. Lindsey got the feeling she’d already known this, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They rode in the squad car. Lindsey sat in front even though there was hardly any room around all the gadgetry mounted to Emma’s dashboard. They moved at a quick clip through town, not officially speeding but definitely going a few miles faster than was posted. Lindsey supposed she should be grateful that Emma hadn’t fired up the sirens on her charge through town.

  They left the center of Briar Creek behind, and the road opened up to a stretch of large homes with scrupulously maintained lawns—or they would have been if it were not for the drought. The grass was dry and yellow, looking brittle and scorched. Yard after yard had the same haggard appearance. Not even in this affluent area could the residents fight off the effects of the longest dry spell to have hit the area in years. It was into one of these driveways that Emma turned.

  The house was a single-story redbrick house that sprawled in several directions. An enormous picture window overlooked a large fountain in the center of the front yard. Spiraling out from the fountain in a profusion of brilliant colors were roses of every color and hue imaginable.

  “Oh no,” Lindsey said. She looked at Emma. “Really? Why?”

  “There’s something you need to see.”

  Well, didn’t that sound ominous? Lindsey followed Emma as she climbed out of the car and began to stride across the grounds. Lindsey glanced at the house, wondering whether Sylvia was here. And if she was, was she going to come flying out of the house in another tirade? Lindsey didn’t know if she was up for that this early in the morning.

  “She’s not here,” Emma said. She was watching Lindsey as if trying to gauge how she reacted to that news.

  “Oh, good,” Lindsey said. “I mean, it’d be weird to be here with her here. Not that I have a problem with her being here—oh God, I’m going to stop talking now.”

  “Probably for the best,” Emma s
aid.

  She led Lindsey around the side of the house to the backyard. There were even more roses here, and the smell under the heat of the hot day was almost overpowering. She felt as if she were breathing in spun sugar. It made her throat close up, and she took a slow breath in, trying to open up the passageway.

  “You all right?” Emma asked. She looked concerned, and Lindsey was relieved to see the cop facade crack and to find her friend in there.

  “Yeah, just not really a fan of roses,” Lindsey said.

  Emma looked as if she understood. “Let’s try to be quick, then, and get you out of here.”

  She led Lindsey toward the far corner of the yard, where there was an old, weathered gardening shed. It had double doors, one of which was open, and inside Lindsey saw the familiar uniform of the state crime scene personnel. She glanced at Emma in alarm.

  “There isn’t a body in there, is there?” she asked. “Because I’ve really had my fill lately.”

  “No, I promise.” Emma stepped into the shed and gestured for the crime scene guy to step aside. “Sorry, Ted, we’ll be out of your way in a second.”

  “No problem,” Ted said. He was middle-aged with a mustache and glasses, and he was holding a camera in front of him as if it were a shield. He moved back a few paces to give them some room.

  There were numbered yellow markers all over the shed, indicating areas of interest. Clearly, the police had found something in the shed that was connected to the murder of Aaron Grady.

  Lindsey glanced around the small space. There were rakes and shovels hanging from a pegboard on the wall, bottles of herbicide and pesticide, and several bags of potting soil sorted on a low shelf. A stack of pots and a box of assorted seeds were on a workbench. On the floor there was a roughly cut section of carpet that looked to be brand new, and it was rolled back to reveal a dark stain on the exposed plank flooring.

  It was then that Lindsey noticed the faint smell of bleach, as if someone had been doing some cleaning out here. She glanced at Emma in confusion.