The Deadly Art of Deception

by Linda Crowder

  “I didn’t say it was Dan, just that he has a coat like that.”

  “Lots of guys have coats like that.”

  “Is he the right height?” asked Mel.

  “It wasn’t Dan,” I insisted.

  The back door opened, and we all turned to look. It was Taylor, so our conversation abruptly shifted. “Hey, Tay. I was just going over to check on you.”

  “I’m fine. Everybody can stop worrying about me.” She walked over to the pot that was simmering on the stove and sniffed. “That smells good. Gumbo?”

  “Alaskan Gumbo,” said Bent with the smile of any cook who loves compliments about his food.

  “You’re a magician, you know. What you do with leftovers is amazing.”

  “Thanks.” Bent was not quite succeeding in keeping the pride out of his voice. “I figure no reason to be boring just because we’re on the edge of nowhere.”

  “We’re not nowhere,” said Mel. “We’re smack-dab in the middle of where we belong.”

  “Speaking of where we belong, have you decided where everyone is sleeping this winter?” I said, reverting to a safe topic.

  “They’re building a house in the vacant lot behind the restaurant,” said Taylor.

  “What? Who told you that?” asked Mel, looking a little panicked.

  “You wait and see,” said Tay, smiling.

  “I’m betting they’re going to start construction the minute they get the news,” I added, glancing obviously at Mel’s belly.

  “That’d be a sucker bet knowing your folks,” said Bent. “At least they’ll be in one house and we’ll be in the other.

  “Unless they tear down the back wall and just build an extension here,” I said, stifling a giggle.

  “Stop laughing, Cara. If they do build back there, you know they’ll put in a room for you.”

  That was a sobering thought, so I stopped teasing Mel. Instead, I asked about the baby, and that diverted her attention away from me for the better part of an hour. I stole looks at Taylor as we talked, examining her for any hint of the scene I’d witnessed. She seemed relaxed and comfortable, perhaps a little sad around the eyes, but she seemed happy for Mel and Bent as they talked about their plans.

  She acted no different than the Taylor I’d always known, yet there was something in her words and her movements that bothered me. I wasn’t sure whether it was because there was something new, or whether it had always been there, but I was only beginning to see. Either way it was disquieting. The end of the season couldn’t come soon enough. I’d take her out to the island, pick up Mr. Peterson, and put all the uncertainty behind me. Surely some time to let the dust settle could only do our friendship good.

  And yet I knew it wasn’t going to be that simple. A body had been pulled from the bay, and regardless of his identity, the one thing I knew for certain was that the poor man’s death hadn’t been accidental. Somewhere in Coho Bay was a killer who might be poised to strike again. Until Dan had him under lock and key, no one was safe. Much as I was ready to put a little distance between us, it wasn’t safe for Taylor to be living by herself on the island right now.

  “Cara?”

  I had lost track of the conversation, and I hadn’t realized it until Mel put her hand on my arm and squeezed. I blinked my eyes and focused on her. “I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?”

  “Sheesh, Cara,” said Taylor, her voice grating on me in a way it hadn’t before. “You’re a million miles away.”

  “We were talking about where everyone is gonna live this winter,” explained Mel. “Taylor and Bent think it might be best for you to stay on the island. That way Taylor won’t be out there all alone.”

  “No!” The word shot out before I could stop it. Taylor’s crestfallen look gave me a twinge of regret, but I ruthlessly ignored it. “I don’t want to be so far away from you, Mel.”

  That made Mel happy, but it didn’t convince Bent. “Why? You’ll only be a boat ride away.”

  “We don’t have a boat, remember? We talked about that this morning.”

  “If you’d been paying attention,” said Taylor, “you’d know we have a solution for that.”

  “Cady McMartin stopped by today. He’s gonna be working the oil fields up north and wanted to know if I’d look after his boat,” said Bent.

  Cady was a local fisherman. He had gotten a job in Prudhoe Bay where he would spend the winter looking after oil field equipment. The conditions were harsh, but the pay was good, and by the time Cady would be itching to get his boat in the water next spring, the field workers would be back for the drilling season. He had a boat twice as big as Dad’s, which he kept in tip-top shape as did all the men whose livelihoods depended on the sea.

  I shot Mel a desperate look, and she came through like a trooper. “Which means that Taylor won’t be isolated. You can run out for her anytime she wants to come into town, so Cara can stay here. I’d really prefer to have her here with me. Pregnant woman’s prerogative.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” said Bent, picking up on the change in mood if he wasn’t quite sure what had caused it.

  “I understand,” said Taylor.

  I could tell she’d picked up on the mood shift and was hurt by it, but I bit my tongue to keep from giving in to her. I didn’t think she was a murderer, but I was seeing her in a new light and the thought of being cooped up on the island with her all winter was more than I could bear.

  “Just give me a buzz on the shortwave, Taylor,” said Bent, still looking a bit confused.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine, Bent. Don’t give it a second thought.”

  That would have worked on me yesterday, but in my simmering annoyance I heard a manipulative tone in her that I hadn’t noticed before. If we kept traveling down this road, it would ruin our friendship. Time and distance, that’s what we needed. Her feelings might be hurt now, but it would be worth it once I’d had a chance to recover my equilibrium. I decided to change topics. “What’s this about Jack lying to Taylor about Johnny’s boat? I’ve half a mind to go out there and give him a piece of my mind.”

  “Let it go, Cara,” said Taylor. “I was pretty sure he was lying at the time, but I didn’t care. If it makes Jack happy to have the boat, let him have it.”

  “You know,” said Mel, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jack take the boat out, but I’m always here.” She gestured around the kitchen. “He could take out a fleet of boats and it would be news to me.”

  “I don’t know what he did with the boat, now that you mention it.” Bent rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I don’t know that I’ve noticed it in the marina, but then I’m usually here too.” He ran a finger along her cheek, and Taylor and I were suddenly in the way.

  “Let’s go look, Tay,” I said, pushing her out the door in front of me. Looking back at them, I don’t think Mel and Bent even realized we were leaving.

  “Why do I care what Jack did with the boat?” grumbled Taylor when I’d closed the door.

  “You don’t. I just thought they would appreciate a little privacy.” The day had turned cold, and I pulled up the hood on my coat and buried my hands in my pockets. “I hope the snow holds off.”

  “It doesn’t usually snow until November. Johnny told me that.”

  I laughed, a little of my wariness fading. “We tell everybody that when we’re trying to get them to stay. Remember that first storm?”

  “October 3. Johnny said it was a fluke.”

  “An annual one.” I was being a little hard on her, but snow was part of life in Alaska. The panhandle, as people called this land along the Inland Passage, has a milder climate than the interior of the state because we have the warmth of the sea currents that cities like Fairbanks lacked. Winter came in fits and spurts here. Some days were beautiful and warm, others brought sudden rain or snow squalls. It could be ten degrees one day and forty the next, then just as easily the temperatures could plummet below zero. It was why the ships deserted us October through April.

  We
reached the marina in record time, the cold inspiring a brisk pace. There were no assigned slips in Coho Bay. Locals and guests parked at whatever slip was available. Being creatures of habit, as they did with the seating at Mel’s, everyone parked pretty close to where they always did. “Where did Johnny tie up?”

  “As close to town as we could get,” answered Taylor. “We usually came in when Johnny had paintings to deliver. He didn’t like to walk too far with them.”

  We went out one side of the dock and back the other, looking at each boat. We didn’t find Johnny’s among them. We walked a little further and went out and back the shorter second arm, but we still didn’t find the boat. “Could Jack have sold it?” I asked Taylor.

  “Not legally since the estate hasn’t settled. He might be letting someone else use it. It’s the same with the island. I have use of it, but I couldn’t sell it.”

  “Taylor, why hasn’t the estate settled?”

  “Let’s go look along the commercial side.”

  “No, we’re not going to look along the commercial side.” I sat down on a bench. “Taylor, I’ve asked a lot of questions since you came back, and I’m tired of you not giving me any answers. I’m not taking another step until you start talking.”

  Taylor took a few steps away from me then stopped, her back to me. “Jack contested the will. He came to court and told the judge there’s evidence that I set Johnny up to be killed.”

  “That’s ridiculous. How do you set someone up to be killed by a bear? Why would the judge believe such a crazy story?”

  She spun around and spit out the words. “He accused me of having a lover attack Johnny in the woods and leave him for dead. He said I had Johnny take me to the gallery that day so I’d have an alibi. Then Dan Simmons told the judge Johnny’s death was under investigation, so he agreed to put a hold on the estate.”

  I stammered something out but even I wasn’t sure what I was saying. I felt as though my head were the center of a bass drum, and every word pounded until I couldn’t think anymore. I finally got my tongue under control. “For how long?”

  “How long what?”

  “How long is the hold? They can’t keep the estate in limbo forever. There must be some kind of evidence.”

  “There isn’t any evidence because I didn’t do anything! Don’t tell me you think I’d ever hurt Johnny! Is that why you suddenly can’t stand to be parted from Mel?”

  “She’s having a baby.”

  She threw up her hands and looked up at the darkening clouds. “Isn’t it rich? I come back because you’re the one person in the whole world I actually trust, and this is what I get? Jack’s right. I should just kill myself and be done with it.”

  My head shot up. “What are you talking about?”

  “When I left Mel’s that night, I got to the apartment and realized I couldn’t get in. I kicked the door a couple of times, and then I started back to the road.”

  “You told me that before.”

  “Yes. Only I didn’t tell you that Jack was there, standing under the awning across from the gallery.”

  “Mr. Shoes!” I said, then remembered Jack had been passed out the first time I saw the watcher.

  “Maybe. All I know is he went off on me big time. I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t let me by. He was saying all kinds of ugly things. I was scared he was gonna do something crazy.”

  “I saw Frank follow you out of the restaurant.”

  “That’s right! He got right in Jack’s face and made him back down.”

  “Jack knew Frank could kick the crap out of him.” At least, I thought he could have. Jack was older, but he was strong from years of working in the mill. He might have given Frank a run for his money if he hadn’t been drunk, which these days he nearly always was when he wasn’t working.

  “Frank tossed me his keys and told me to wait for him in the boat, so I did.”

  “So Frank took Jack home then came back for you?”

  She looked away from me. “That’s what I assumed he was going to do.”

  “You assumed? Why don’t you know?”

  She looked back at me, and there were tears running down her face. Taylor was not allergic to mascara, and the effect would have been comical if the subject weren’t so serious. “Cara, he never came.”

  As the impact of her words sunk in, I felt as though I’d been punched in the gut. “What? But you said—”

  “I know what I said. You asked where I’d been, and I just—”

  “Lied. You lied to me. A lie you knew would hurt me.”

  “I wasn’t thinking.” She sat down on the bench beside me and took my hand. “I’m sorry.”

  I pulled my hand away and stood up. “Of course you were thinking. You were thinking of the only person you ever think of, and it wasn’t me. You said the first thing that popped into your head, and you’ve been lying about it ever since. You even lied to the police during a murder investigation. Have you lost your mind?”

  “Cara—”

  “No! Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve heard enough of your lies for any one lifetime, and I don’t want to hear any more.” I started to walk away, then I stopped. “Get your things and get out of my apartment. You can stay at the cabins. I’ll pick up Mr. Peterson as soon as Dad gets the boat running, and then you can get someone to run you out there. Live there or don’t. I’m out.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go, and even if I did, I don’t have any money to get there. I spent every dime I had to get here.” Taylor’s voice, small and sad and quiet, cut through me.

  I didn’t turn around because I didn’t want to let her work on me. “What do you mean you have no money? What about the fortune you inherited from your parents? Was that a lie too?”

  “I never said they left me a fortune. That was your assumption.”

  “If it was, you didn’t set me straight.”

  “Because it didn’t matter. You liked me for me, not for the money you thought I had. Johnny did too. He knew exactly how much money I had, and he didn’t care. We had plenty, and that was all that mattered.”

  “You spent every penny?”

  “We combined our money after we got married, and when he died I couldn’t get a dime, not even what I’d put in. All I had was Johnny’s life insurance.”

  “Which left you with nothing to live on in Seattle.”

  “So I came here. I knew I could live on the island until the estate settled.”

  I turned to face her. I hated to admit it, but there wasn’t a false note in her story. If she was lying, I couldn’t tell. “How long can they tie up the estate?”

  “I only have to make it through another month.”

  “Without them arresting you.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Cara, you’ve got to believe me.”

  I wanted to believe her. I was almost there, then I remembered she’d said Jack accused her of having a lover, and I thought of the stranger I’d seen her with. “Who was the man you were with behind the gallery today?” Her face went positively white, and the last thin thread of hope I’d been holding on to broke. “Yeah, you let me know when you’ve thought up a lie to explain him.”

  I spun around and walked away, half expecting her to follow but glad she didn’t. I didn’t feel like going back to the apartment, and I didn’t want to explain myself to Mel, so I turned right instead of left. I walked to the end of the harbor road, then turned up the street that ran along the far side of the bay. I didn’t get out here often. It was residential, and I preferred woodlands to houses, but there was a pleasant pathway that ran along the water’s edge, and I left the sidewalk to follow it. I walked slowly, trying to put my thoughts in order. I passed the last house and kept walking until I reached a rocky outcrop overlooking the bay. I left the path and scrambled up the rocks, finding a spot tucked out of the wind, just above the high-water mark.

  From here I had a good view of Johnny’s island. It was about a hundred yards off shore,
just inside the mouth of the bay. The waning sun had caught one of the windows, and it glinted golden from the cover of the trees. It was a small island, heavily wooded. I knew there were paths through the woods that Johnny had kept clear of brush so he and Taylor could walk together. Johnny had installed a metal dock with a covered boathouse and a lift so he could take his boat out of the water during bad storms.

  It would have been expensive to replace the old wooden dock with a metal one and to build the boathouse with its lift. Dredging the slip would have added to the total. Where had Johnny come by that much money? I’d assumed that it had been Taylor’s money when Bent mentioned it, but if I could believe her, she hadn’t had that kind of money. I knew Johnny’s mother left him some money when she’d died. He’d told me that it was enough to enable him to paint full time but that it was his dream to someday support himself as a painter. That hadn’t sounded like a man with a substantial bank balance.

  Jack had accused Taylor of being a gold digger. I’d dismissed it because I’d thought the money had been hers, but now I wasn’t sure. Maybe Johnny’s mother had left him more than I’d thought, at least enough money that Jack thought it was worth fighting over. You’d be hard-pressed to guess anybody’s net worth in Coho Bay. My own parents were a good example. They’d both come from money, and they both had good jobs. They had spent frugally and invested wisely over the years, allowing them to set Mel and Bent up with the restaurant and me with the gallery, and they’d flatly refused our offers to pay them back. They owned quite a bit of property in and around town, and their income from rentals had ballooned when the cruise ships put Coho Bay on the travel radar. We had seen an influx of summer visitors who didn’t come and go in a day but who stayed for a few weeks or even the whole season as Mr. Peterson had.

  So Dan had gone to court with Jack and sworn that there was some kind of evidence to support an investigation into Taylor’s involvement in Johnny’s death. I wondered what it would take to convince a judge but not damning enough for him to be able to arrest her. Was the man behind the gallery Taylor’s lover-turned-accomplice? She’d been back less than a week, and that man had not seemed like someone she’d just met. Had they been carrying on an affair and decided to get rid of her husband? Even if they had, you can’t kill someone by getting a bear to attack him. Dan had warned me about Taylor, so maybe he knew something I didn’t.