by Barbara Ross
“If you don’t tell Lieutenant Binder what you did, I’m going to.”
“Julia, please.”
“I’ll do anything to help you. I will. But you have to tell Binder the truth. Get a lawyer and admit what you did.”
Sarah sat in the booth, tears cascading down her cheeks. “I’ll think about it. Please, don’t go to Binder yet.”
Chapter 43
As soon as I left Sarah, I texted Michaela. where r u?
leave 4 NYC today. Meet good-bye?
where?
front n centre 25
The coffee shop in Bath in twenty-five minutes. Good. k I asked my mother for her car and lit out for Bath. I got to the coffee shop first and claimed a corner table where we wouldn’t be overheard. All the coffee with Sarah at Gus’s and my near sleepless night had given me the shakes. I ordered a lemonade. I was nervous about seeing Michaela. Things had ended so badly the last time we’d been together.
She strolled in a minute later and greeted me warmly. “We’re going back to the city right after lunch. The cars are all packed. I just wanted to say good-bye. And apologize for my behavior after Ray’s funeral. You didn’t deserve it.” She paused. “I think you realize you’re not the person I was angry with. I’m so sorry. We didn’t know each other well before last weekend, but you’ve been a terrific friend to me through all of this.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should never have sprung it on you that Tony left the Bellevue that night, especially on the day of Ray’s funeral. I assumed you knew. You and Tony had been interviewed by the police several times.”
Michaela shook her head. “But never together. We were never interviewed together.” She smiled. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s told me what happened, and I know he told you. Everything is good between Tony and me. At least our relationship wasn’t destroyed by this awful mess. You’ve been a true friend.”
“Thanks. I think of you as a friend, too.” I meant what I said, but I also recognized the opening I’d wanted. “I need your help.”
Michaela fixed me with an intense, level gaze. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
“If you really want to help, tell me exactly what happened the night Ray was murdered. The truth this time. All of it.”
Michaela pulled her head back and raised a perfectly shaped brow. “I’ve told you everything.”
“Not quite. You told me you met Ray and spent hours walking along Main Street. You didn’t tell me you’d found him at Gleason’s Hardware store with Sarah Halsey.”
Michaela’s shoulders slumped. “Sarah must have told you.”
I nodded yes, and Michaela continued. “I just didn’t see any reason to bring that poor girl further into all this. She thinks I only saw Ray’s side of their argument, but that’s not true. I understood her reluctance to allow Ray visitation with her nine-year-old. Nobody understands better than I do how self-centered and untrustworthy drunks can be.”
“So what did really happen?” My time had all but run out. I had to know.
“I called Ray as soon as I got back to the Snuggles. At first, he didn’t pick up, but then he called me back and said he was going to meet Sarah at the hardware store. That didn’t seem like a good idea at all, given his condition. I ran over there, hoping I could catch him before he went inside, but it was too late. The two of them were already in there, arguing themselves in circles at the top of their lungs. The town was so quiet, I could hear them from outside.
“I banged on the door to get their attention and Ray let me in. You could feel the tension in the room. He was never a happy drunk. Drinking made him angry and hostile and the last couple years, one of the things that made him angriest was the situation with his son. I tried to reason with both of them and got nowhere. Finally, it was all too much for me. It was the night before my wedding and I was in a dark hardware store trying to reason with two people who were never going to see the other’s perspective. I started to cry.”
“And that brought Ray around?” Everyone had described him as an immature, practical joker. But it was also clear from all my conversations he was a loyal friend. He wouldn’t have wanted to hurt Michaela on her wedding day, of all days.
“It did. Ray finally remembered we were in Busman’s Harbor for my wedding to his best friend, not for him and his drama.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with the coffee house napkin, then muttered, sadly and affectionately, “Freakin’ Ray.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing. Ray and I left. I walked him back toward his hotel. He’d thrown up earlier and sobered up some, but he was still pretty drunk. I wanted to make sure he got back to his room. At the corner of the parking lot for the Lighthouse Inn, he told me to go on, he had to get something from his car. I said I’d wait and walk him to his room, but he resisted. I didn’t want to start another argument. He was in a much mellower place so I figured he could make it the last fifty feet to the front door.” Michaela put her elbows on the table and rubbed her temples. “If only I had seen him all the way back to his room, none of this might have happened.”
“And you’ve told all of this to Lieutenant Binder?”
“All of it. Just the way I told you. Oh, and one more thing. One that Binder strangely seemed the most interested in. When Ray and I came out of the hardware store, that cab driver, the one who was in the bar, was standing across the street under a street lamp. He followed us to the hotel.”
“Followed you?” Chris, what on earth were you doing?
“The streets were deserted. The cab driver followed Ray and me as we walked toward the Lighthouse Inn. A little later, when I looked out my window at the Snuggles, I saw him there, too.”
I didn’t think Michaela noticed my reaction to that devastating bit of news, or perhaps she saw but didn’t understand. We stood and she hugged me with her great long arms. “Tony said he hopes you’re seriously considering his offer,” she said to the top of my head. “It’s good until midnight.”
So she knew about that.
Chapter 44
Chris was across from Gleason’s Hardware the night of Ray’s murder?
From the beginning, there’d been a swirl of suspicion around Chris. At first, because he’d supposedly been the last person in the harbor to see Ray Wilson. Then there was the blood. And finally Chris’s presence outside the hardware store.
Making everything worse was, it was the first time I was certain Chris had lied to me. He’d told me he’d gone straight back to the marina and cleaned his cab.
Maybe Michaela was lying. But why would she? Seeing Chris outside Gleason’s was such a bizarre and specific thing to say.
My cell phone rang as I reached Mom’s car in the public parking lot in Bath. I knew who it was before I looked at the display. Ditzy. I pressed IGNORE and wished I could do just that. A quick look at my list of recent calls showed that the last nine were from him. And he’d left four messages. Feeling like I was climbing onto the scaffold for my own execution, I dialed him back.
“Julia Snowden,” he answered. “Glad you’re alive. I was beginning to worry.”
I made a noise that I hoped he’d take as a response. He did.
“As you’re aware, the situation with your loan has become very serious, indeed. You’re closed for a fifth day today. That means I have no choice but to recommend to my superiors that we call your loan. Failure to pay it in full within twenty-four hours will mean forfeiture of your business and your property which you used as collateral.”
Even though I’d been expecting this, it hit me with such force I couldn’t move. I sat in my mother’s twelve-year-old Buick in a public parking lot and willed myself to breathe.
“Bob, as I’ve explained before, the five closed days are just one of many variables in the business plan. For example, if we were to exceed my very conservative revenue projections, we could absorb several more closed days and still make the agreed upon loan payments over the summer.” Actually, my revenue projections ha
dn’t been conservative at all, but I was fighting for my family’s property and livelihood.
“This loan has already been renegotiated twice. I don’t see my superiors going for a third time.”
“Please, Bob. You know we’re an important local business, part of what makes Busman’s Harbor a tourist destination. Shutting us down at the start of the summer season will be a blow to the entire community.”
He was silent for a moment, and I thought I had him at least reconsidering.
“I have a pretty good source in the police department,” Bob said.
Of course he did. Everyone in town must be friends with at least one blabbermouth cop.
“I understand there may be a fugitive hiding on Morrow Island. I don’t think you’ll be allowed to open until he’s captured and until arrests have been made for the murder and arson. If you knew when you were going to open, I could argue with the loan committee on your behalf, but as things stand—”
“Give me until tomorrow, Bob. Please. Just give me until tomorrow. If someone’s arrested, I’ll give you a new business plan. If I can’t do that, give me the time to find a buyer.”
“You think between now and tomorrow you can find a full-price buyer for your properties?” He sounded surprised. Evidently Tony hadn’t told Bob he was also talking directly to us.
“I’m certain of it.” Not full price perhaps, but enough to pay off the loan.
He whistled. “Tell you what. It’s Friday and already late afternoon in Europe. No one will probably answer the telephone at HQ anyway. You have the weekend. Either the police make an arrest and you bring me a new business plan by first thing Monday morning or you bring me a confirmed offer from a potential buyer.”
“Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
And he wouldn’t regret it, though I feared very much that I would.
I bumped down the barely paved road toward Quentin Tupper’s house on Westclaw Point and turned into his driveway. No sign of his wooden-sided estate wagon. Oh, no. What if he’s gone back to New York? I had no way to reach him there.
I sat in my car writing a note on the back of an oil change receipt when Quentin pulled his car up behind me. Thank goodness.
“Ho, there!” he called.
I jumped out of Mom’s car. I didn’t have time for pleasantries. “I think you should invest in my business.”
Quentin’s eyebrows flew up toward his sandy hairline. He put his hand on my upper arm and said gently, “I’ve explained. I don’t get involved.”
“Then if you don’t want a part of my business, you should buy Morrow Island.” If I couldn’t save the business, I could at least get two buyers bidding against each other for the island and negotiate the best deal for my mother.
“I think you’d better come inside.” He led me into the sleek interior of his house, sat me down at his glass dining table, and brought me an ice water without my asking. “Julia, I have no interest in anyone owning Morrow Island but you and your family.”
“But what if we can’t hold onto it? I’m doing everything I can, but I’ve run out of time. Do you want Tony Poitras to build a resort over there with helicopters coming and going or do you want peace and quiet?”
“How much has Tony offered you?”
“I’d rather you just make an offer.” I wasn’t going to tell him Tony’s lowball number.
“Well, I’m not going to buy your island, so it won’t hurt you to tell me how much Tony bid.”
“One point five million. That’s a quarter of the amount Ray Wilson mentioned to one of my employees less than a month ago.”
Quentin folded his arms across his chest. “So if you sell to Tony now, instead of letting the bank take it, you can protect some of your assets?”
“My mother’s house in the harbor. And the Jacquie II.” I took a big swig of the ice water, but my throat was still parched. I couldn’t take my eyes off Quentin. This had to work. What would he do?
“Am I correct in believing that you don’t care who gets the island, you just want a higher bid to go back to Poitras with?”
“Yes,” I admitted. If we lost the island, what did I care who got it?
“I won’t be your shill, Julia.”
My heart sunk.
“But you do have leverage. Remember what I told you. Tony needs very specific things. He needs to be out of cell range, yet close enough to civilization he can get his helicopters to the island easily. He needs water, electricity, and waste disposal. Given all the regulations about building on these islands, he probably needs an existing structure with a footprint big enough to create his resort. And he needs to be sole owner of the island. There are thousands of islands in Maine, but once you apply all those criteria, his choices are much more limited. Use that knowledge and go back to him with a strong counteroffer. I know you can do it.”
The weight of the responsibility bore down on me physically. I heard what Quentin said, but I was still in a very weak position. Tony knew I was out of time. “You’re going to end up with a fancy resort across the water from you.” I stood to go.
Quentin got up, too, picking his car keys off the table. He’d have to move his antique Woodie so I could get out. “I’ll take that chance. Good luck.”
I certainly needed it.
Chapter 45
I drove back to the harbor, put Mom’s car in her garage, and walked down to our ticket kiosk to raise Etienne on the radio. Tony told me he’d seen Etienne and Gabrielle in the harbor on the night of the murder. What were they doing here? And much more important, why had Etienne lied repeatedly about their whereabouts that night?
Etienne’s voice was weary when he answered. “Could you come out to the island? I don’t want to leave her.” I knew he meant Gabrielle. I assured him that I understood and would be out as soon as I could.
The problem was I didn’t have a way to get there. I thought about who could take me. Sonny’s dad would surely be out lobstering as would most of the working lobster-and fishermen in the harbor. I made a mental inventory of everyone I knew who might lend me a boat and kept coming back to one. On the one hand, he was the last person I wanted to see. On the other, I really needed to face up to him. Chris.
I headed over to the marina.
Neither his cab nor his landscaping truck were in the parking lot, but that didn’t surprise me. During the part of the year when he lived on his boat he had to rent space for his vehicles a fair walk away. For all I knew, the state police still had the cab.
“Ahoy!” I stood on the dock and tried to hale Chris. I’d never been on the Dark Lady and it would be impolite to board without an invitation. “Ahoy!”
Chris emerged on deck looking disheveled. And by disheveled, I meant dreamy. His shirt was off, his feet were bare, and he wore only a pair of dress pants.
I registered that. Pants, not jeans.
He had a sexy two-day growth of beard.
“Oh, hi. This isn’t a great time.” He held up his razor to indicate he’d been about to shave, but I had a feeling he wasn’t referring to a simple grooming task.
“That’s okay. This won’t take long.” I jumped onto the Dark Lady, uninvited.
“Okay.” Chris seemed surprised by my boldness.
Frankly, so was I. “I need to borrow your dinghy.”
He looked relieved, like—was that all I wanted? “Where’re you headed?”
“Morrow. I need to talk to Etienne and he can’t come to town right now.”
“That’s a long way to go in my dinghy.”
He was right. It was barely more than a rubber raft, but it had a hard bottom and an outboard motor. I knew it would get me there.
Chris handed me the key to unlock the little boat from the dock. “All set? ’Cause I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
“You said you would help me keep the clambake open any way you could.”
He nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“But then you didn’t tell me you were outside Gleason’s H
ardware the morning Ray Wilson was killed.” I tried to keep the hurt, anger, and accusation out of my voice.
Chris gestured for me to take a seat on the banquette in the stern. He sat just around the corner, so close our knees were practically touching. Between my anger at him, my fear about where this conversation might be going, and his nearness to me, my heart beat so hard I was afraid he could see it thumping in my chest.
“So you know,” he said.
“Michaela told me. She told Binder, too.”
Chris stared down at his bare, tanned feet. “Lieutenant Binder and I have had several conversations about my movements that night. I’m certain we’ll have many more.”
“Why were you outside Gleason’s?”
Chris still didn’t look up at me. “I dropped Wilson at the Lighthouse Inn, just like I told you. As soon as he got out, I opened up my cab to inspect where he’d been sick. I was still in the Lighthouse parking lot when he came stumbling back out the side door of the inn. He started yelling into his cell phone, sounding demented. He hurried up toward Main Street.
“I followed him. At first I was afraid he’d hurt himself. He was in no condition to be wandering around town at almost one-thirty in the morning. But then, as he continued screaming into the phone, I started to be afraid he’d hurt someone else.”
Chris finally looked into my eyes. He was so close that if I moved my knee a fraction of an inch, we’d touch. Hurt and angry as I was with him, I still longed to cross that chasm.
“If you’ve talked to Michaela, you know what happened next,” Chris went on, seemingly unaware of my heart rate or my desire to touch him. “Wilson charged up the street toward Sarah Halsey’s apartment. I waited outside. A couple minutes later, Sarah came down the stairs and let them both into Gleason’s. I was still worried. Obviously they had private business. I didn’t want to interrupt, but they were in a place filled with all kinds of potentially dangerous weapons and he sounded like he was off his rocker. So I waited to see what would happen. Then the bride came along and banged on the front door of Gleason’s. Ray let her in and the three of them were yelling at one another. It was so loud, I could hear it from across the street. Not words, mind you. But noise.”
