Except he’d hit her not once, but twice. Maybe if it had been once, it would have been a mistake, but twice was just too much. Someone drunk wouldn’t have been able to coordinate enough to do that, right?
“Are you okay?” Scott asked, reaching over and taking her hand. Once again she felt grateful for the man sitting next to her. She felt his strength, and she needed it right now. Not only was she still a little freaked out by the accident, but they were on their way to tell a man about his wife cheating on him.
“No,” Claire said. “Not even a little. This whole business has gotten ugly.”
“I know,” Scott said. “I guess we stopped too late. Clearly, Captain Karl wasn’t willing to leave it at a threat.”
“What if it wasn’t him?” Claire asked. “Mrs. Applegate seemed to think that didn’t sound like him. She said he was happily married. You know, Betty didn’t actually say his name, she just said it was some big, scary sailor with a beard. I think we latched onto Karl because we’d just seen him.”
Scott gave her a considering look before returning his eyes to the road. “That’s true,” he said slowly. “It just seemed odd that he had such a thing against Ben, and then it was Ben’s crab trap that was used to drown Dexter. It makes sense to me that he might try to kill Dexter and frame someone he wanted to hurt. I still think it’s him, especially after he threatened you and then you get run off the road a few days later.”
Claire sighed and nodded, once again uncertain. Scott was right. Captain Karl just seemed like the one that had the most reason to do all of this, but the fact that Betty had never named him still bothered her.
“Maybe we should go talk to Betty again,” Claire finally said into the silence. “If we could find a picture of Captain Karl, even if she doesn’t know the man, she should be able to tell if he was the one she meant.”
“Claire,” Scott said, looking at her askance. “Didn’t we decided to stop doing this? I’m pretty sure you were almost killed today. What if you’d been next to a cliff when that truck hit you? You would have gone right over the side and we wouldn’t be sitting here talking. I’m thinking it’s gotten too dangerous. We need to let Darryl take over. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s going to yell at us for getting involved anyway, and if we try to keep doing anything, he’s probably going to lock us up.”
What was wrong with her? She’d almost been killed when she’d been run off of the road, and they were actually on their way to tell Darryl everything. Clearly she was crazy or something, since despite all of that, she’d wanted to run off and start all over again. Claire sighed and put her head back against the headrest. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Scott squeezed her hand which he hadn’t let go of. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You’ve kind of had a lot going on today, being run off the road and everything. You had a good idea. We’re just going to let Darryl take care of that, though.”
“If he’s able to, once we tell him his wife was cheating on him with a dead man.”
“Yeah, there’s that. We’ll just have to see how everything goes. Don’t worry, it’ll work out. These things always do.”
“I hope you’re right,” Claire said softly, watching the waves roll up on the beach as they passed by. “I sure hope you’re right.”
Chapter 20
Darryl sat in an old wooden chair and sipped on a beer while he stared out of the big window. There really wasn’t anything to stare at except for the overcast clouds blowing past. It turned out that Scott’s home was a triple-wide mobile home set within a park that was nestled within the trees of a hill overlooking the town. If you stood up, it would give you an excellent view of the town, and Claire could only imagine what it looked like at night, but from a seat, the only thing to see was the clouds.
Claire was somewhat surprised by the condition of the triple-wide. She was used to seeing windswept, dusty parks populated with ancient homes that looked like they were one sandstorm from collapsing. Here, it was completely different. Scott’s home was new and clean, well-maintained, and with small winterized lawn and several good-sized trees flanking the white and tan structure. Most of the other homes in the park were just as nice, and none of them looked like the boxy contraptions she always imagined.
She was also greatly relieved to see that the interior was kept clean and even decorated, though she had a little trouble getting into what she decided to call an ‘Elk and Pine tree’ motif. It wasn’t terrible, but it most definitely wasn’t Claire’s cup of tea.
However, she didn’t have a lot of time to take in the rugged ambiance since they were here to talk to Darryl. The man hadn’t said much, only asking for a beer and holding his hand up when they tried to launch into their story. He’d sat like that for a few minutes, relishing the beer in silence and seemingly ignoring them.
Claire and Scott exchanged glances, uncertain what to do. It was almost as if Darryl knew it was going to be bad news. Finally, the kind-eyed police officer turned to them and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said fatalistically, “—lay it on me. What have you two gotten involved in? Why would someone want to hurt you, Claire? And why do you both look absolutely terrified to talk to me about it?”
Claire took a deep breath and purposefully took Scott’s hand to give her strength. Then she just launched into the story, telling Darryl everything she could remember that she and Scott had done since they left the dock the day they’d found Dexter.
The hardest part by far was when they described why they had gone to Hazelton. Darryl just closed his eyes and listened, a neutral look on his face. By the time she got to the conversation with Betty, she was crying and her voice was quivering, making Scott take over the narrative.
Darryl twitched once, then once again as they talked about confirming Ellen’s behavior with first Dexter, and after that the bearded sailor. On the last bit he opened his eyes, listening intently even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. The rest of the tale wound on, first through the happenings at Eastsound, then Jeff Sinclair’s ambush, and finally ending on the day’s events with Claire ending up being run off of the road.
When they finished, the stoic policeman stared at them for many long moments before he took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. His eyes drifted back to the bleak clouds outside of the window in front of him, once again staring out at a far horizon that probably held nothing compared to what was going on in his mind.
They let him sit, uncertain what to do. Claire continued to cry, but silently, not wanting to disturb the man’s reverie and when she looked over, Scott was looking down at his hands. His eyes were dry, but it was clear he was equally as worried over Darryl’s reaction as she was.
When Darryl finally took a deep breath, both of them froze, staring at the police officer as if he might pull his gun and shoot them. They knew better, but their nerves had been wound so tight, they couldn’t help it. The sight actually made Darryl chuckle, though it was a sick, almost defeated sound.
“Okay, so that answers the question of why you were so afraid to talk to me,” Darryl said, then tried to take another drink from his empty bottle. He looked at it as if it had betrayed him, then put it down on a nearby coffee table. “I can’t say I knew the specifics, but I’ve been suspecting for a while that Ellen’s been…doing things behind my back.”
“You knew?” Claire said, blinking in surprise.
Darryl shrugged and waved his hand in the air between them, still not looking in their direction. “I wouldn’t say I knew. I’d say I suspected, and then stuck my head in the sand as far as I could. I didn’t want to know. Now I can’t ignore it anymore because you’ve pulled me up by the hair and shoved it in my face,” Darryl said, then finally looked at them. “How should I feel about that? Because right now, I don’t feel much of anything and that kind of worries me.”
Claire leaned forward, not quite sure how to begin but knowing she had to try. Though she’d only known the man for a little over a month, he
was still a friend and she didn’t want to see him in pain. “I don’t know. I’ve never had someone betray me like this. Not when it counted, anyway. However, I did lose my husband to cancer. He was everything to me. It was sudden, and at first I…well, I hid from the pain. I stuck my own head in the sand and it was only moving here that I started pulling it out, myself. I know it’s not the same as what you’re going through.”
Sheesh, I sound like some soap opera or Hallmark card, she thought. She tried to put her words together in some way that didn’t sound quite so pretentious but she couldn’t think of anything. Finally, she just continued. “I guess I’m trying to say, very badly, that we’re here to listen, if you want.”
Darryl nodded, sharing a companionable silence for a few moments before taking a deep breath and slapping his knees. “Now, about the other stuff. Just what in the heck do you think you two were doing? Seriously? Sticking your nose into a murder investigation?”
Claire and Scott were at once thankful and chastised at Darryl’s anger. They were glad to see the man not lost to depression, but now they knew they were in for a well-deserved lecture. They knew they had been risking things when they’d started, but that had been the excitement of it. Now they were paying the consequence. “Well, uh, to be honest, I don’t think we were thinking very clearly,” Scott said, rubbing the back of his head.
“That, my friend, is the understatement of the year,” Darryl said with a note of disgust. “There’s a reason that you let the police handle a police investigation. According to what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’ve got the killer on your trail now. Claire, you could have been killed today.”
“I know,” Claire said quietly. “We had already decided to stop looking into everything, and I was on my way into town to talk to you.”
“Okay,” Darryl said, giving each of them a stern look. “But you both have to promise me that you’ll keep your noses out of it from now on. As it is, I’m going to have to do the same thing after I tell the Sheriff everything.”
“What? Why?” Scott asked, clearly taken by surprise.
Darryl gave Scott an incredulous look and threw his hands up in the air. “Because I’m a suspect, Scott. Did you even think about that? What if I had been the killer? Found out about Ellen’s romp and then killed her illicit lover, dragging him out into the bay to feed the crabs. I might have lured you both here to finish you off. God, why did you two ever get involved in this!”
Scott and Claire looked at each other, then slowly back to Darryl. “That’s a good point,” Claire said sheepishly.
Darryl just stood, shaking his head. “You two… Just keep out of this business from now on and let me know if you see anything suspicious, but only as it relates to you, Claire. If someone is after you, you need to be careful and don’t go anywhere alone, got it? Otherwise, stay away. Even if Dexter’s ghost tries to tell you who killed him, you tell him to come talk to us.”
Scott and Claire both just nodded, wide-eyed as they watched Darryl keep his gaze locked on them for a moment later before nodding, then opening the door and disappearing outside.
“Well,” Scott said around a huge breath of air. “That went better than I thought it would.”
“Yeah,” Claire said sardonically, not sure if Scott was kidding or not.
Chapter 21
Claire sat in the corner of Molly’s kitchen and watched the larger woman cook. She picked up the chicken-shaped salt shaker sitting on the mat in the middle of the table, turning it this way and that before setting it back down next to the one that held the pepper. Molly’s house was full of things like this, reminding Claire of an old farmhouse in some ways. Light and functional, eclectic and cheerful.
She reached for her cup of coffee, wincing as the muscles protested in her chest. Just as the doctor had said, more aches and strains had revealed themselves overnight, and Claire had been thankful the next morning for Molly’s very comfortable guest bed. “Thanks for letting me stay with you last night,” Claire said, taking a sip of the warm liquid.
“You are very welcome, honey,” Molly answered, wiggling her ample behind to some music that was playing on the radio while she cooked breakfast. A moment later, she’d made two plates of scrambled eggs and sausage, whisking them over to the table and setting one down in front of Claire. “I wasn’t about to let you stay alone after everything that’s happened. First that old wolf of a captain traveling all the way to Eastsound to threaten you, and then someone trying to run you off of the road.”
“Well, it was certainly appreciated. I think I would have been up all night at every little noise if I’d tried to stay in my little cottage. Not like this little guy would have been much help if someone tried to get in, either.” She reached down, scratching Roscoe who was currently trying to hide behind her chair from the house’s other inhabitant. Alfie, an unusually large orange tabby, was laying down across the doorway to the kitchen, lazily flicking his long tail back and forth in absolute satisfaction as he casually watched the small dog cower.
The cat had been quite patient with the other furry guest until Roscoe had overstepped himself, bouncing too close to the cat and receiving a quick bat and hiss that had Roscoe whimpering and running. Since then, he’d given the cat a wide berth, but Alfie had made a habit of placing himself within sight of Roscoe whenever he could. Patient, but clearly a warning for the dog not to forget himself again within the cat’s expansive kingdom.
“No, I don’t think he’d be much of a bump for someone. Maybe you really should have Scott sleep under the porch?”
“Oh, don’t start that again,” Claire said, laughing softly and then wincing at the pain. She put her hand on the table, taking a deep breath and giving Molly a pouty look. “Please don’t make me laugh. But really, what am I going to do? I can’t just sleep in your house until they catch whoever tried to run me off of the road.”
“Or who might be trying to kill you,” Molly said slowly, giving Claire a look that said she shouldn’t forget about that part. “Besides, I don’t mind you staying here for a while. I’m pretty easy to get along with and Alfie will probably do a better job of guarding the house than Roscoe.”
“Well, he is a pretty terrifying cat,” Claire said, watching the cat in question slowly blink. “I’ll have to go back to the cottage to get more clothes, though. Should I get enough for a week?”
“That sounds good. I hope you don’t mind casserole? I usually make some on Wednesdays. It’s my grandmother’s recipe and I guarantee you’ll like it.”
“I’m more than fine with casserole, but don’t put yourself out on my account.”
Molly blew out a breath and threw her hand in the air as if brushing something off. “I don’t mind at all. I don’t get to entertain very often with Aunt Myrna around. We do all the holiday stuff at her house because she’s magic in the kitchen. Still, I’ve learned a thing or two, but never get to practice.”
“I’ll be happy to be a guinea pig for you, then,” Claire said, taking a bite of the egg and pointing at it with her fork. “If it’s even half as good as this, I’ll be more than fine with your cooking, Molly. I do have another favor to ask of you, though.”
Molly rolled her eyes playfully but nodded. “I can as long you promise to help me package some of my orders today. I did mention that you have to earn your keep, right? Now, what’s your favor?”
“I need to get a rental car since my car is once again going to be in Jimmy’s shop for a while.”
Molly grimaced. “Have you heard how long it’s going to take to get back?”
“No, not yet. The insurance guy needs to take a look at it before they can give me a quote and he won’t be able to get out for a day or so. Something about us being so far out, but I’m sure it won’t be quick since it’s a foreign car.” Claire said, making air quotes with her fingers.”
“You don’t think it’s totaled, do you?”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I’m not an expert. I k
now the truck hit me from behind, but how much damage could happen since I got stuck in sand? I guess I’ll have to wait to find out.”
“That’s the spirit! Don’t deal with today what you can put off until tomorrow,” Molly said, waving her own fork in the air as if leading a charge. “Do you want to head into town after breakfast and get your rental car? It’s either that or come with me to get some jewelry supplies in Anacortes.”
Claire perked up and gave Molly a big smile. “That…sounds like fun! I’d love to go with you. I’ve not been to Anacortes yet and going shopping sounds like just the therapy I need.”
Molly and Claire laughed and finished eating their breakfast. Afterwards, Claire helped clean and made sure the dishes were all put in the dishwasher before the two women prepared to leave.
When they reached the door, Roscoe was there, whimpering and pawing at the doorjamb. The poor little dog looked up, first at Claire, and then back down the hallway before pushing his little black nose against the door. When the two women looked, Alfie was standing at a doorway, looking back stoically, the picture of innocence.
It made Claire chuckle, before taking pity on Roscoe and picking him up and trooping out to Molly’s car. She actually felt Roscoe slump in her hand when the door finally closed behind them.
“Poor Roscoe, you’ve had a tough few days, haven’t you?” Claire said, leaning down and kissing the dog on top of his head. He responded with his own kisses before snuggling his nose into her arm and letting out a big sigh.
It was tough being a little dog in a big world.
Chapter 22
Anacortes turned out to be much like Brightwater Bay but larger and much flatter. The ferries that worked out of its harbor were twice as big as the ones in Brightwater Bay, and there were more quaint little shops along the waterfront, one of which was a jewelry and bead supply shop called Blackfish Stones.
A Tiny Dash of Death Page 9
