by A M Ialacci
“Excellent. Thanks for this, Dwight,” Charlie said and stood.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about Harriet?” Allie asked.
Dwight seemed to think for a minute. “No, I don’t think so. I’m sure the rangers will have more details.”
“All right then,” she said and followed Charlie out of the office.
Chapter Fifteen
“What can you tell us about the night of the murder, Jenny?”
“Well, Greg, Becca, and I arrived at about 7:15 on a ferry because we had to set up for the moonlit climb and gala. We needed to put the lights in the lanterns, place them on every third step, and then set up the chairs and tables for the gala on the lawn between the Keepers Quarters and the Lighthouse. We had plenty to do.”
“Did you notice anything out of place or anyone hanging around?”
“Not that I can think of,” Jenny said.
“And when was the last time you saw Harriet that day?”
“Probably sometime that morning at the Visitor Center. I know she was working on performance reviews but she said mine wasn’t done yet.”
“Did you like Harriet?” Allie asked.
“She was kind of my mentor,” Jenny said. “When I was posted here, my dad had just died, and my brother not too long before that in Afghanistan. My mom has dementia, so… it was nice to have somebody looking out for me.”
“We’ve heard she had exacting standards,” Charlie said. “Was she hard on you?”
“She expected a lot from everybody. She always pushed me to speak in front of groups when dealing with people is not my thing. But she did it for my own good. Can’t say it wasn’t frustrating, though.”
“Do you have any idea who might have had reason to hurt her?”
“None. She was a beloved part of the community. I still can’t believe she’s gone.” Jenny looked at the ground and bit her lip.
“All right, Jenny. Thank you for speaking with us. We’ll be in touch,” Charlie said.
When they had climbed aboard the ferry to return to Harkers Island, Charlie said, “She’s had a rough couple of years, poor girl.”
“I guess so,” Allie agreed. “She assisted Harriet quite a bit when speaking to groups, but from what I understand, you’d never know she didn’t enjoy it.”
“Harriet must have known what she was doing,” Charlie said.
“Well, I don’t suppose you become a supervisor if you can’t read people,” Allie said.
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t know. Government jobs are a different shooting match. A lot of times it’s who you know rather than what you know.”
“You mean government jobs are all about politics?” Allie cocked an eyebrow. “Shocker.”
Charlie consulted the list Dwight had given him. “Who you wanna do first?”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Allie said. “Who’s closest?”
Charlie laughed. “It looks like Greg is at the Keepers Quarters right now. Let’s head over there.”
Allie nodded, and they climbed aboard the empty ferry to ride over to the Cape.
“Any idea when y’all will be opening back up?” Charlie asked the captain.
He shook his head. “Naw. We just take orders from above.”
“I bet you’ll be glad to get back to it,” Charlie said.
“It’s a bit weird without the tourists. It’s the tail end of our season, though. Turns October, we just get a trickle.”
Charlie nodded. “What do you make of this mess at the lighthouse?”
“It’s nothing ta do wit me,” the captain shook his head. “I won’t be speaking out of turn against no one.”
“Understood.” Charlie nodded.
Allie smiled and gave a knowing look to Charlie. Definitely a Downeastener.
They disembarked onto the Park Service dock and walked up the wooden walkway, hanging a right toward the lighthouse and Keepers Quarters. As they neared, they could see a young man sweeping the porch of the two-story white house.
“Are you Greg Chan?” Charlie asked.
“I am,” he said, turning and smiling, the smile dropping a bit upon seeing Charlie’s badge. “Can I help you?”
Allie recognized him from the lighthouse gallery the night of the murder.
“Just wanted to chat with you a bit about the other night,” Charlie said.
“When Harriet was killed, you mean,” Greg said, brushing a shock of longish dark hair behind his ear.
Charlie nodded, opening his notebook. “You were here that night, correct?”
“Yes, I was here at the Cape.”
“What time did you get over here?”
“Becca, Jenny, and I arrived at about 7:15pm. We were supposed to check the grounds and make sure there was no litter or debris in the area where the moonlight climb and gala were to be held, and then set up for the climb and the gala.”
“So the lighthouse, and this area between the Keepers Quarters, and the lighthouse?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, more or less.”
“Did you see anything out of place, or see anyone who wasn’t supposed to be here?”
“No, not that I can recall,” he said, shaking his head.
“When was the last time you saw Harriet Brennan alive?”
“Uh, let’s see. I spoke with her that afternoon, I think.”
“What about?” Allie asked.
He looked down at the ground. “My job performance review.”
Charlie paused. “Not what you were hoping for, then?”
Greg looked him in the eye. “It was okay. But no, not what I was hoping for.”
“Did that make you angry?”
“Oh, please. I got mad about my review so I killed her? C’mon. It was okay, not terrible. As if even that would be a reason to kill a supervisor.”
“I’ve seen stranger things,” Charlie said.
“I’m sure you have. But I’m not a criminal,” Greg said, looking Charlie in the eye again.
“All right, Greg. No one’s accusing you of anything.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
Charlie shook his head. “Do you like working here?”
“It’s fine. CALO wasn’t my first choice, but rarely does a ranger get their first choice in assignment. That’s how it works.”
“CALO?” Allie asked.
“Cape Lookout National Seashore. It’s like a nickname.”
“And your fellow rangers? Everybody get along?”
Greg hesitated a millisecond. “Yeah, for the most part. It’s like any work environment. The drama ebbs and flows.”
Charlie raised his brow. “Drama?”
“Just petty stuff,” Greg said. “Who’s being mean to who, who’s getting more days off, that kind of thing.”
“Did anyone think Harriet was being mean?”
“Well, she was a supervisor, wasn’t she?” Greg smiled. “Supes are always pissing someone off. It’s kind of in the job description.”
“If you were me, who would you be looking at?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, I’m not playing that game.” Greg laughed. “That’s a good way to make my job very uncomfortable.”
“All right then,” Charlie said, flipping his notebook shut. “I’m sure we’ll talk some more later.”
Greg grimaced. “Looking forward to it.” He returned to sweeping, with a bit more force this time.
Allie and Charlie walked back to the walkway before speaking. “Not giving up much, is he?” she asked.
“They never do the first go around. It’s like you were talking about earlier. No reason for them to talk now. But when the pressure goes up, they’ll spill.”
Allie nodded. “All right then. Can’t wait.”
Chapter Sixteen
Charlie and Allie had to hunt a bit more for Becca, who was on the beach with a pair of binoculars, looking out to sea.
“Hey, Becca. Good to see you again,” Charlie said.
“Chief Detective Bishop! What brings
you out here?
“Well, we said we’d talk to you again, and here we are. What are you doing?”
“I see,” she said. “We’ve had reports of humpback whale sightings off the Cape, so I’m taking a peek. We track sightings and keep data on their movements.”
“Amazing,” Charlie said. “I don’t want to keep you. So tell me about the night of the murder.”
“Um, Jenny, Greg, and I rode the ferry over about 7:15 to help set up for the moonlight climb and the gala. We had to get the lanterns lit and everything set up in the area between the Keepers Quarters and the Lighthouse.”
“Did you see anything unusual? Anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there?”
“No, can’t say that I did. Just us rangers.”
Charlie nodded. “I know you’ve already said you can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt Harriet. We’ve heard she had pretty high standards for everyone here.”
Becca nodded. “She did, but she’d always been that way. We got along okay.”
“Did you know Dwight was retiring?”
“Yes, we all knew.”
“Would Harriet get promoted to Superintendent?” Charlie asked.
Becca paused. “No, not necessarily. Many times, the Park Service swaps Superintendents from park to park rather than move people up. Ideally, you’d think they would want to reward hard work and dedication. But that’s just not how it works sometimes.”
Huh, Allie thought. Was that bitterness?
“How long have you worked for the Park Service, Becca?” Allie asked.
“Going on fifteen years. I’ve worked here at CALO since 2013. Same time that Dwight came here.”
“Do you like it here?” Charlie asked.
“I love it here,” she said, smiling. Allie could tell it was sincere.
“You have no idea what could have prompted someone to take her life?” Allie asked.
Becca shook her head. “Beats me,” she said.
“And no one that Harriet interacted with struck you as having ill will toward her?”
“She was tough on the ferry guys, and certain visitors who were repeat offenders of our rules. But no one was ever in a murderous rage over something she said or did.”
“All right then,” Charlie said.
“You could talk to Tim, the ferry operator. He keeps the pulse on who comes and goes and might have a better idea. At least those that don’t have their own boats to get here,” Becca said.
“He’s next on our list,” Charlie said. “Thanks for your help.”
“You bet. That’s what I’m here for.” She smiled and turned her attention back to the ocean.
Charlie pointed to some Banker ponies on Shackleford as they passed on the way back to the Harkers Island Visitor Center. Allie was amazed they could live on their own with so little assistance from the rangers and nonprofits who helped keep their population stabilized and healthy. They were never removed from the islands, even during blizzards and hurricanes, and they seemed to manage just fine. It was the humans who were murdering each other right across the Sound.
When they got off the ferry, Charlie asked the captain if Tim Douglas was around, and he pointed to the ticket booth connected to the far side of the center.
Charlie and Allie walked up the gangplank and went to the ticket window. “Looking for Tim.” Charlie flashed his badge.
“Come on around the back!” a voice called from inside.
The door stood open at the back of the ticket booth and a tall skinny man in his late fifties greeted them both with a handshake. “I’m Tim. What can I help you with?”
“A few questions about the night of the murder,” Charlie said.
Tim glanced back inside the ticket booth and then gestured back the way they had come. “Why don’t we go have a seat at one of the picnic tables in the waiting area?”
They sat, Charlie and Allie on one side, with Tim on the other, leaning forward on his elbows, hands folded. “What would you like to know?”
“How would you characterize your relationship with Harriet Brennan?”
“My relationship? She was the one to make sure I was following the contract.”
“The contract you have with the National Park Service to provide exclusive ferry transportation to the Cape and Shackleford Banks.”
“That’s correct.”
“So she made sure you were compliant with all aspects of the contract?”
“Yes.” Tim nodded.
“And did you get along?”
“Uh, to be frank, no. I felt like she took it all a little too seriously. Some days, it felt like it was her mission in life to find something, anything we were doing wrong. And she would usually find it. I don’t know if she just didn’t like me or what, but it felt a little personal.”
“And did that make you angry?”
Tim chuckled. “Angry enough to kill her? No. Not really. Throw things, yes, scream and curse, yes. But kill? No.”
“Where were you the night of the murder?”
“In the ticket booth here at the Visitor Center.”
“You weren’t on the island at all?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I wanted to be here to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.”
“Makes sense. Anyone you can think of that might want to hurt Harriet Brennan?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’m not the only one she was a hardass to. Maybe somebody else got tired of being pushed around. Have no idea who, though.”
“Thanks for your honesty, Tim,” Charlie said. “We may have more questions later.”
“I’ll be here,” Tim said.
Chapter Seventeen
Mike drove Allie and Ryan to pick up Frankie. He pulled in to Frankie’s driveway and looked at Allie. “Is this the right house?”
Ryan already had his door open and was bounding up the driveway toward the door, and Allie giggled.
“He really likes this girl, huh?” Mike asked.
“Yes, I think he does.” Allie smiled.
They watched as Ryan knocked on the door as he had practiced with Allie, and asked after Frankie. They had rehearsed the whole routine for a couple of days in advance.
Mrs. Knight waved to Allie as Frankie appeared from behind her. Frankie grabbed Ryan’s hand, and the pair walked back to the truck. When they climbed in, Allie asked,
“Are you ready to go to the arcade?”
“Yes!” they both exclaimed in unison.
“Well, then, Mike. Let’s go!”
The trip to Jacksonville would easily take forty-five minutes, so Allie had encouraged Ryan to bring things to do. He and Frankie had both heeded her advice and were drawing quietly.
“Why the arcade in Jacksonville?” Mike asked.
“You know Ryan likes the old school games from the eighties, and very few arcades even have those anymore. Now they’re all ‘press a button and get tickets,’” she said.
“Sounds like you have strong opinions on this issue.” Mike laughed.
“I do!” she said. “How boring is that? When you don’t even have to do anything to get your reward. No skill involved at all.”
“I’ve seen Ryan play those retro games, and he definitely has skill,” Mike said.
“I know!” Allie said. “It might be silly, but I’m always so proud of him when he gets his name on a leaderboard.”
“But isn’t there some issue with this arcade?”
“Yes, his favorite game was out of order the last time we came. They were just putting the sign on it when we arrived.”
“Out of order! Can’t play today!” Ryan said.
“What if it’s still not working?” Mike whispered. “Won’t he have a meltdown?”
“I called in advance to see.” Allie smiled.
“My girlfriend is so damn smart.” Mike patted her knee.
“And don’t you forget it.” Allie smiled. “You guys okay back there?”
“Yep,” Ryan said, deep in concentration while d
rawing an outline on his sheet of paper.
“Yes, Miss Allie,” Frankie said, smiling and scrunching up her face before returning to her own project.
After fifteen minutes, Ryan and Frankie started making each other laugh with silly jokes, and Allie and Mike joined in with their favorite knock-knock jokes.
“Knock knock!” Mike called out.
“Who’s there?” Allie, Ryan, and Frankie chimed in.
“Dwayne!” Mike said.
“Dwayne who?” they asked.
“Dwayne da baftub! I’m dwowning!”
Everyone laughed, Ryan and Frankie most of all. When the fit of giggling had died down, Frankie said, “Miss Allie!”
“Yes, Frankie?”
“I need to uh… go!”
“You need to use the restroom?” Allie clarified.
Frankie nodded, glancing at Ryan with a blush, who dropped his head and studied his drawing.
“Mike, find a gas station ASAP,” Allie said.
“Will do,” he said.
“Hold on a minute, okay, Frankie?” Allie asked.
Frankie nodded, crossed her legs, and looked out the window. Within minutes, Mike had found a place to stop and pulled in. “Will you come in with me?” Frankie asked Allie.
“Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go.” They hustled out of the truck and into the convenience store, Frankie carrying all of her drawing supplies with her. “Bathroom?” Allie asked the clerk once they were inside the door. He pointed to the back corner.
Luckily, it had several stalls, so Allie came in with Frankie. “I’ll just wait here for you. I need to fix my hair anyway,” she said. Frankie rested the pile of sketchbooks and pencil bags on the sink, entered a stall, and closed the door.
“Miss Allie?”
“Yes, Frankie?”
“I like hanging out with you and Ryan and Mike,” Frankie said from behind the closed door.
“Oh,” Allie said, relieved there wasn’t some emergency. “Well, we like hanging out with you, too, Frankie.”
