CHAPTER 9
RICK
Deputy Cunningham put his arm around Traci’s shoulders, gave her a gentle squeeze, and said, “Let me see what he’s got.” He came and stood behind Rick and inspected the spot on screen where Rick’s mouse hovered.
“Did you notice these two burn marks on the victim’s clothing?” Rick asked.
“Nope. It was kind of the Wild West out there on the beach. The wind had kicked up and between sand blowing and trying to keep the curiosity hounds away, it was all I could do to get the photos.” He pointed at the marks. “What are they?”
Traci drifted over and stood beside Adam, her arm just brushing his.
Rick pointed with the mouse again. “The twin burn marks indicate someone used a taser on the victim.”
“Oh my God,” Traci muttered. When Rick looked at her, she added, “How awful. I’ve seen videos of people being tasered.”
Deputy Cunningham held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Tasers don’t kill people.”
“It’s rare, but it does happen,” Rick said. “It’s usually because the victim had some sort of heart condition. The medical examiner should figure it out, but you might want to raise a red flag just to be sure.” He repositioned the cursor of the mouse over the victim’s face. “She also had a very pale complexion. It’s almost like she had some sort of skin condition and spent too much time in the sun.”
“I can give them a heads up,” the deputy said.
Rick went back to the photo of the body. “What’s odd is that I don’t see any signs of the AFID confetti.” Rick looked up at the deputy and waited, hoping he’d say he’d found at least one of the tiny pieces of paper.
“AFID?” Traci looked at Adam, then Rick.
“Anti-felon identification,” the deputy said. “It’s basically confetti with bar-coded serial numbers so you can tell which gun was discharged. If you’ve seen videos of this, I’m surprised you didn’t notice it.”
Traci shook her head. “I was too freaked out by what happened to the people.”
He put his arm around her and gave her a gentle hug. “I can understand that.”
“So there was no confetti at the scene?” Rick asked.
“I didn’t see any. But like I said, the wind was blowing, so there’s no telling where it could have gone.” The deputy turned his attention back to Traci. “You were there. Did you see any little pieces of paper being blown around?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Okay, well, let’s get your statement.” The deputy pulled out a chair for Traci, then leaned to one side and held her gaze as she sat and peered up at him.
“Do you want me to leave?” Rick asked.
“I’d rather you stayed,” the deputy said. “I feel more grounded when you’re around.”
Traci’s blue eyes appeared sad as she nodded at the deputy. With strawberry-blonde hair, curly and worn at the shoulder, she had a wholesome look. She was one of those people who brightened your day, and it saddened Rick that her bubbly personality was absent this morning.
The deputy sat across from her, pulled out a notepad, and turned on a recorder. He introduced himself, Traci, and Rick. Then he let her talk.
“I was walking the Johnson’s dogs with Isabelle Murdoch.” She turned and gave Rick a weak smile. “It’s how I help keep Isabelle active. She looks forward to the walks—or so she says.”
Adam cleared his throat and smiled at Traci. “What time was this, Miss Peterson?”
Her peachy complexion brightened to a rosy pink, and she pursed her lips. Apparently, message received—this was strictly a professional visit.
“It was approximately six-fifteen. We left the Johnson’s at six and it takes us about fifteen minutes to get to the jetty. I don’t wear a watch when we walk. Neither does Isabelle.”
“Very well,” the deputy said. “Please continue.”
Traci closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “We were almost at the jetty when we saw Miss O’Connor on the beach. She looked like she was in a big hurry. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but later when Adam—Deputy Cunningham—told me about the body, I realized it was almost the exact same place.”
More for the record than anything else, Rick asked, “Did you see the body at the time?”
“No. The beach is kind of hidden right there because of the seawall, and we were on the other side by the road. We could see the water in the distance, but not where they found the body. Besides, we didn’t know we were witnessing a crime.” She paused, glanced at both men, and added, “I would have paid more attention.”
“Of course,” Rick said.
Adam nodded knowingly, then asked, “Did you see anyone near there?”
“No. Not there.”
“Everything points to Miss O’Connor, Rick.” The deputy’s expression was somber. “I don’t think there’s any other explanation.”
“Let’s not jump the gun, Adam. Traci, you said, ‘not there.’ What about other stretches of the beach? Did you see anyone? Anywhere?”
“We did see Miss Potok a little bit later. But she was in a different place and it looked like she was beachcombing or something. I guess she’s looking for artifacts that wash up on shore. She’s down there most mornings at about that time.”
“Did she see you?”
Traci’s brow furrowed while she tapped one finger on her chin and thought for a moment. “Maybe. Yes, she must have.”
Rick’s phone pinged with a message from Marquetta. “Adam, I need to get going. Marquetta just reminded me I have to strip wallpaper in one of the rooms. We have another guest coming in a few days, so we need to get the paper down today. I’m sorry.”
“No worries, Rick. We can finish up here.” He winked at Traci, whose cheeks turned bright pink again.
No wonder Adam liked her. She was cute as could be, one of the nicest people in town, and she embarrassed easily. They were a perfect match, and he was happy for them.
What he wasn’t happy about was the weight Adam was giving Traci’s recollections. He’d seen cops give too much credence to a single witness’s statement and derail an investigation. But Adam wasn’t a seasoned cop. Did he even realize what he was doing?
Rick had said he wouldn’t get involved. This wasn’t his case. But he liked Flynn. So did Alex.
And more importantly, he thought Flynn was getting a raw deal. He glanced at the message again as he said goodbye and pushed through the front door. At least for now, he had a room to paint.
CHAPTER 10
RICK
“Ready for takeoff, kiddo?”
Alex stood next to Rick wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Her small hands were practically swimming in the adult-sized latex gloves she wore. “Roger that, Captain!”
She gave him a mock salute and Rick fired up the wallpaper steamer. The device looked something like an oversized iron. Within minutes, it had pumped enough humidity into the room to turn it into a sauna. Rick was sweating like crazy, and now he got it. This was why his handyman had laughed when Rick said he wanted to do the job himself. Even Rick’s T-shirt clung to his skin like a dripping towel. Why hadn’t he listened more closely to Devon’s advice?
Start early. Dress light. Drink right.
Three strikes. Time to suck it up and finish the job.
The steamer weighed about five pounds, but after finishing one wall the muscles in his neck and upper back ached from the constant raising and lowering of the weight.
They were finishing up the second wall when Alex complained for the first time. “Daddy, it’s really hot in here. Why didn’t we have Mr. Van Horn do this?”
Rick resisted the urge to say, “Because I was stupid.” Instead, he continued guiding the steamer down the wall while he reminded Alex that Devon had other clients he worked for.
“I thought the room looked really nice,” Alex said.
“Believe me, kiddo, right now I feel the same way. But the wallpaper was starting to peel. It
looked tacky, so we had to remove it and paint. Think of this as our own little father-daughter project.”
Alex continued pulling paper away from the wall, but then sneered at the mess in her hands. The glue on the back of the paper stuck to her latex gloves, her gloves kept getting pulled off, and the wad of crumpled-up wallpaper was almost as large as her. Rick felt horrible. What a disaster this was turning into.
“I like hanging out with you, Daddy, but could we do something more fun next time? This sucks.”
He nodded as he looked down at her. “You’re right. This does suck.”
“How come we have to use the steamer thingy anyway?”
“The steamer warms the glue. That makes it easier to remove the paper. If we didn’t have it, we’d be ripping all this paper to shreds. Once the paper’s down…” The steady hissing stopped. It was followed by a couple of spurts, then silence.
“Are you kidding me?” Rick glared at the dead weight in his hand. This was the last piece, too. “Alex, check the tank. Is it dry?”
She looked, but when she peered up at him, Rick already knew the answer. He could see the tank from where he stood.
“It’s still half full, Daddy.”
Rick’s phone rang. He glanced at the display. The number was not one he recognized. He didn’t need Caller ID to guess what was about to happen. He answered with a guarded voice. “Hello, Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast.”
“This is Mr. de la Guerra in the Spinnaker Room. My power has gone out.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. de la Guerra. We must have blown the circuit. I’ll have it fixed momentarily.” Rick disconnected the call and glanced at Alex. “Great. This thing blew the breaker. Come on, kiddo. You might as well know how those work, too.”
Rick led the way to the circuit breakers on the side of the old house. On the way, he explained the importance of the electrical panel. He showed Alex how to open the panel and pointed to what he recognized as a blown breaker. “See how that switch is not flipped all the way to the right like the others? That’s what happens when we overload it. Flip it all the way to the left. Wait a second, then push it all the way to the right.”
Alex had to stretch to reach the breaker, but she got it turned off. It went off easily, but she gritted her teeth as she turned it back on. “That’s hard! You gotta be strong to do this.”
“It’ll get easier as you get older. Now you know as much as I do about the electrical in this old house. Let’s hope we don’t have to do it again. We need to get back to work.”
“We can paint next? I like that a lot more. This part’s no fun.”
“You and Marquetta did an amazing job in your room. So yes, you’ll definitely be on the painting crew. You can work a little of your brush magic. We have to dry out the room before we do anything else. That’s what the dehumidifier is for, to remove the humidity. Once the walls are ready, the fun starts.”
Even as they finished with the last piece of wallpaper, Rick couldn’t stop replaying Traci’s statement in his head. He was rolling the dehumidifier into the room when one of the wheels caught on the plastic tarp they’d used to protect the flooring. He gave the dehumidifier a shove, then noticed Alex watching him.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?”
“Sorry, kiddo. I guess I have a lot on my mind.”
“Is it ‘cause of what happened at the police station?”
Rick didn’t know how to respond, but he knew his daughter. She wouldn’t let up until he told her. “It makes no sense why Deputy Cunningham is so eager to convict Miss O’Connor.”
“But she didn’t kill that lady!”
“Alex, unless you have proof, all you’re doing is taking the opposite position. We can’t say whether she did or didn’t, but she at least deserves an impartial investigation. And a fair trial, if it comes to it.”
“Knock, knock.”
Rick jumped at the sound of Deputy Cunningham’s voice. “Hey, Adam, we were just talking about Miss O’Connor.”
“I heard. I have bad news, Rick.”
“Let me guess, you found the taser confetti, and it links back to Flynn O’Connor.”
“Nothing so conclusive. We may never find that.”
“You talked to Isabelle and she puts Flynn at the crime scene?”
Deputy Cunningham shook his head. “I’ve been told to stay away from Isabelle.”
“What?” Rick stared at Adam. “You’re being told not to do your job?”
“I’m being told not to upset Isabelle. That’s not the reason I’m here. Having to do this sticks in my craw, but you’re off the case.”
“I don’t understand. I didn’t think I was ever on it.”
“This is my fault. I made the mistake of telling the chief what you’d found. I’ve never seen him so red in the face. I also can’t remember the last time I got chewed out so bad. He says we don’t need any amateurs running around and getting in our way. I’m sorry I got you involved.”
“All I did was give you a second set of eyes.”
“The chief didn’t like it. He said he’d fire me on the spot if I ever pulled something like that again.”
“That’s not fair!” Alex yelped.
Rick put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. His jaw tightened, and he took a resolute breath. “Hang on, kiddo. The chief has every right to want me to stay out of this. I never stuck my nose in police investigations in New York. All I did was report the story. Here…well, this is all different.”
“No! You have to help.”
“I won’t jeopardize our future here.” Rick gazed at the deputy. “Or yours. Consider me off the case.”
“Thanks for being so understanding.” Adam hung his head and turned to leave, then stopped and gazed at Rick. “I don’t know if I’ll get my butt chewed for this or not, but you deserve to know something else. While you were in the office, the chief was over at the Seaside Cove Inn. That’s where Ms. Collins was staying. It turns out she had a bottle of a prescription drug used to control a heart arrhythmia. This particular medication also causes a severe sensitivity to sunlight.”
“So the sunburn and the acne could have been a reaction caused by her medication?” Rick asked.
Adam grimaced and fingered the line of his jaw. “The theory is the taser triggered a heart attack. Anyway, I thought you ought to know.”
“Not so fast, Adam. You’re being told to not question someone who may be a key witness, there’s no sign of the AFID confetti, and you can’t ask for help. Is that right?”
The deputy watched Rick’s face for a moment and took in a slow breath. When he let it out he said, “Correct.”
“That’s not right, Adam.”
“Tell me about it,” the deputy said, a note of finality in his voice.
Obviously, there was no point in pressing the matter. Doing so could only damage their relationship. Rick said, “Good luck, Adam. I think you’re going to need it.”
CHAPTER 11
RICK
Rick glanced up at Alex from the thank you note he held in his hands. She sat across from him at the kitchen island, but was watching Marquetta store loaves of bread for tomorrow morning.
“Alex? How can you be bored by this note from the Sachettis?” Rick asked.
She looked up toward the ceiling with an exaggerated eye roll. “Daddy, you’ve read it, like, three times already.”
“You were the one who made this event happen, kiddo. Aren’t you proud of what you did?”
“Yes, Daddy, but Robbie’s my friend. Anybody would have done the same thing.”
“Don’t be so sure, Sweetie,” Marquetta said as she returned the white ceramic breadbox to its normal location on the counter. “Everyone talked about wanting to help after Robbie’s mom was hurt in that auto accident, but nobody else stepped up. You were the only one.”
“I guess,” Alex said and turned her attention to her laptop screen.
Rick handed the letter to Marquetta and waited for Alex to look up. Was she avoiding him or
fascinated by what she’d found? While he waited, he let his gaze flick around the room. From the white ceramic canister set to the high-end cookware to the appliances, this was a fantasy kitchen. Even the little touches matched thanks to Marquetta’s impeccable taste.
When Marquetta finished reading, she handed the note back to Rick and glanced at Alex. “What are you working on, Sweetie?”
Alex turned the laptop around and pointed at a map displayed on her screen. Her finger hovered over the coast of Columbia. “It’s where Miss O’Connor worked. The city’s called Cartagena. There’s sunken treasure off the coast.”
Marquetta stood behind Alex and leaned over her shoulder. Rick breathed in a hint of Marquetta’s perfume—a combination of plumeria, coconut, and ginger. It was faint and sweet and familiar for a reason he couldn’t pin down.
“You’re so smart, Sweetie.” Marquetta put her hands on Alex’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head.
Alex sat a little taller and beamed up at Marquetta. “Thanks.”
Rick deliberately avoiding saying anything about her being a little too smart for her own good at times. He studied Marquetta for a moment. “Are you wearing a new perfume?”
“Do you like it?”
She seemed to hold her breath as he watched her face. “It’s delightful. I mean, it’s very nice.”
“It’s Miss O’Connor’s,” Alex said with a huge grin.
Marquetta glanced away. “I don’t usually wear…”
“I know. I mean…I shouldn’t interrupt.”
He glanced at the windows, then Alex, then Marquetta, whose face burned bright pink. She’d let go of Alex’s shoulders and folded her arms over her chest. Of the three people present, his daughter was the only one who seemed happy about the conversation. In fact, if her grin was any indicator, she was at a ten out of ten on the self-satisfaction scale.
Rick wanted a do-over on the last five minutes. How should he handle his daughter’s attempts at playing matchmaker? Did he even want her to stop? No—yes—she had to. He still hadn’t filed the divorce papers and now he was drawn to a woman he couldn’t have. What a mess.
Clues in the Sand Page 5
