Dead, White, and Blue

by Carolyn Hart

  Rushed footsteps thudded in the central corridor. Marian Kenyon, dark eyes glittering, black hair tousled, stormed to the coffee bar, slapped a notebook on the counter. “The Great Kibosh. Finis. Kaput. Crime? Why, someone smashed a ceramic frog in Betty Bingham’s garden. Probably that incorrigible kid with a slingshot who lives next door. Get out an APB.” She slid onto a stool, pointed at the second shelf. “Double shot of espresso with a dash of chocolate in Fear Walks the Island.”

  Annie poured two ounces of the thick black brew in the mug with the Hugh Desmond title, added two tablespoons of chocolate syrup, placed the mug on the counter.

  Annie spoke soothingly. “You seem upset.”

  Marian grabbed the mug, drank, blinked her eyes. “Upset? Oh hey, why should I be upset? You know, Max knows, I know, and Billy Cameron knows that we may be dealing with two murders. As far as I’m concerned, only an idiot—as in our porcine mayor—can believe Shell Hurst ended up anywhere but dead on the Fourth. As for Richard Ely, maybe he went out in a deluge to meet the tooth fairy. I don’t know. Stranger things have happened. According to our got-my-eye-on-the-buck mayor, after a chummy confab with richer-than-Croesus Wesley Hurst, who’ll be a good campaign donor next year, the police have no business hounding kindly Mr. Hurst because his soon-to-be ex-wife Shell called him and she is clearly off island, and their separation and ultimate divorce is of no concern to the constabulary. As for dead-as-a-mackerel Richard Ely, why, these things happen. The autopsy report states drowning as the cause of death and that pesky wound at the base of his skull—”

  Annie now understood the reference to contributing factors in the news story.

  “—could easily have been caused by a fall. In the unlikely event foul play occurred, remember the first rule of homicide, look at the spouse. However, the ex-wife’s a kindly single mom now so heaven forbid we suspect her. Therefore, Chief Cameron is instructed not to waste department time and energy asking questions about matters that do not require investigation. And the Gazette, compliments of yours truly, will have a truly touching story this afternoon about Wesley Hurst’s struggle to combat unfortunate rumors about him and his wife.” For an instant, Marian looked bleakly amused. “Hard for a rich guy to pander to the press, but a man does what he needs to do. You know what that tells me? This guy’s desperate to shut everybody up.”

  • • •

  The harbor view through Billy Cameron’s office window was in idyllic summer mode, sailboats, catamarans, and powerboats plying placid green water. Two shrimp boats rode on the horizon. Porpoises curved up and out and down into the water in a graceful ballet.

  Annie tried not to sound accusatory. “Billy, is there anything you can do?”

  Billy’s face was somber. “Not much. The autopsy report on Ely doesn’t afford reason to launch an investigation. He drowned. Assuming he ate dinner between six and seven, death likely occurred between eight to twelve P.M. according to the stage of digestion. That was during the height of the thunderstorm. That’s the long and short of it. There’s a contusion at the base of the skull but nothing to show he didn’t have an accident. Since his car was parked in the pier lot, it’s reasonable to assume he was out on the pier when he went into the water. As to why he should have been at the end of the pier, the mayor points out that we don’t have to know why he went there. The fact that he left his house during a huge storm and so far as we know never returned doesn’t faze the mayor. The storm lasted most of the night. It seems almost certain Ely went out on the pier during the storm. Why? No matter, the mayor says. He went, he slipped, he fell, he drowned. End of story. Picking up gossip about what he saw or didn’t see at the club during the fireworks is immaterial.” He looked sour. “The mayor loves the word immaterial. He used it at least five times.”

  Max shared Billy’s disgust. “Did he also think it was immaterial that Shell Hurst hasn’t used her credit card since July third?”

  “Like a French movie.”

  Annie and Max stared at him.

  Billy’s lips curled. “Yeah. He said it was like a French movie, a loose woman on the make leaves with some guy who’s picking up the tab. That explains why she hasn’t used her cell phone either. No calls made since July fourth. But no problem. It’s obvious, he said. She’s using lover boy’s cell.” He turned his big hands palms up. “The hell of it is, he may be right. I don’t have a body. Wesley Hurst can claim Shell called, the mayor can write a script, but until I have some kind of evidence of foul play, there’s nothing I can do.”

  Annie understood his frustration. “There’s lots Max and I can do.”

  Billy’s gaze was somber. “I don’t have proof of any crime, but things are screwy. There may be a killer out there. You two better leave it alone. You may get more than you bargained for.”

  • • •

  Max glanced at his iPhone. His eyes narrowed. “I wonder if anyone’s ever told Emma to take a hike.”

  “Not in this lifetime.” Annie grinned. “Harassing you?”

  He handed over the iPhone. The text was clear: WTB?

  Max glared at the offending message. “If she’s so smart, why doesn’t she tell us?”

  Annie pushed up from her perch on the edge of Max’s desk. She walked to one of a pair of comfortable webbed art deco chairs she’d helped him choose when they’d redone his office and sank down with a sigh. “Okay, let’s give Emma her due. She may be right. So, where’s the body?”

  Max didn’t answer. He stared at a print of a Mark Rothko painting, a swath of luminous gold above a block of intense orange. Finally, slowly, he began to speak. “If there’s a body, someone knows. That’s what we have to remember. Someone knows. When people are under pressure, they can make mistakes. It’s up to us to apply pressure.”

  • • •

  Eileen Irwin opened the door at Annie’s first knock. She was summery in a light blue hand-embroidered blouse and a blue linen peasant skirt with gathered ruching at the hem. There was a quizzical expression on her narrowly planed face. “You sounded most mysterious over the phone.” An amused smile. “I gather everything’s still up in the air about Shell.” She led the way into the living room.

  Annie sat again on the plaid sofa while Eileen sank into what was clearly her chair.

  Eileen was at ease, her light blue eyes curious. “I’ve heard so many different stories. Shell left on a yacht. Shell called Wesley and won’t say where she is. Shell’s in Tahiti. Shell’s moved back in with Bucky.” Her face expressed distaste. “Wesley is such a fool. Imagine taking your brother’s leftovers. But the Hursts were always crude.” She spoke from the safe pinnacle of an old Southern family.

  “No one knows where she is.” Annie’s eyes lifted to the mirror. This morning there was no shadow on the hall floor. Annie lowered her voice. “There is some suspicion she might be dead.”

  Eileen’s air of supercilious amusement vanished. She looked shaken, a woman confronted by possibilities she’d never envisioned. “That’s dreadful. Why, she’s so young.” She bent forward. “Surely not. Who thinks that?”

  Annie evaded the question. “She was last seen walking on the path to the overflow parking lot on the night of the Fourth. No one has seen her since. She hasn’t used her cell phone. She’s made no charges on her credit card. She’s vanished. That’s why I wanted to see you.”

  Eileen lifted a hand to her throat. “Me?” Her voice was thin.

  “You were on the terrace during the fireworks.”

  Eileen’s pale eyes never left Annie’s face. “Yes.”

  “Where did you stand?”

  Eileen’s hand dropped to her lap. She looked puzzled. “I don’t know exactly. I was a few feet away from the French doors. The grandstand was on my right, the pool to my left.”

  Annie felt a flicker of excitement. “You had a clear view of the path Shell took.”

  Her thin face creased in thought. “I suppose I did, but I don’t think I looked that way. I was watching the fireworks.”

/>   “Was Edward with you?”

  “For a bit. But he left soon after the fireworks started.”

  So Eileen was on the terrace and Edward was walking home. Annie pictured the layout of the golf course. From the terrace, Edward would have headed across the parking lot for the golf clubhouse. He could as easily have skirted the lot and darted onto the path Shell took.

  “Did you see him walk toward the clubhouse?”

  “I didn’t look after him. Why should I?” Her tone was sharp. “Edward doesn’t know anything about Shell. Neither of us do.”

  “You were on the terrace and you may have seen something that will help. Did you see Shell take the path past the grandstand?”

  Eileen shrugged. “It was dark except for the fireworks. People milled everywhere. I suppose I may have seen her but it didn’t register.”

  Annie felt frustrated. Eileen had been there. Surely she knew something helpful. “Who was standing near you?”

  “It’s hard to say. People came and went. The terrace was shadowy. There was some light from the French doors but the lights on the terrace and around the pool had been turned off. It was hard to identify anyone. I saw the Thornwalls over near the pool. Vera Hurst came past me at one point and she didn’t even say hello. I suppose she was looking the other way. I saw her face in a burst of white fireworks. She didn’t look like she was having a good time. Some teenage girls were near me.” Eileen’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Then there were some perfectly marvelous fireworks, a huge blue constellation. You should have heard everyone cheer. That was later so I don’t suppose it matters. About the time the fireworks ended, I saw Jed Hurst next to the grandstand and he looked upset. He was watching his dad. Wesley was walking fast toward the back entrance to the club.”

  Annie knew a treasure hunter’s glee at uncovering a glint of metal. She was careful to keep her tone casual. “So the story that he’d had too much to drink is just nonsense.” This was more confirmation that Wesley was sober despite his behavior at the valet stand. Was he trying to establish that he was in no condition to be associated with any harm to Shell?

  Eileen looked surprised. “I don’t know who said that but they’re mistaken. Wesley was walking quite purposefully.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t sound right, like he was showing that he was sober. It wasn’t that at all. You can tell. People who have had too much to drink may manage to go in a straight line, but it takes effort and they move slowly. Wesley was in a hurry, walking fast. I would say he was absolutely sober.”

  • • •

  Max remembered a church committee meeting one winter evening at Edward and Eileen Irwin’s home. Eileen was the kind of woman who naturally rose to power on church committees, a lifetime member from a well-respected island family. She’d served sherry trifle. Max had admired the lightness of her Madeira cake. He contrasted the elegance of the Irwin home with the hollow slam of the downstairs door of the thin-walled building where Edward Irwin Investments was housed in a second-floor office. The stairway was narrow. The office directory showed only two occupants listed upstairs. Edward’s office was midway along the hallway. Most of the office doors were blank. Not a thriving hum of commerce.

  Max had decided to take a chance that he would find Edward at his office. He was pleased to see light shining behind the frosted glass. He pulled out his cell to turn it off, saw a new message: WTB? He deleted the text with an irritated tap. He opened the door and stepped into a cramped anteroom with a tired-looking rubber plant in a ceramic pot, an unoccupied desk with a plastic-shrouded computer, two easy chairs with a small table between them, and a stack of magazines, a copy of Southern Living on top.

  “Hello?”

  A chair squeaked in an inner office. Edward appeared in the doorway. Max looked at a small, worried, tired man. The incongruity of his suspicions in relation to the reality of Edward’s appearance made his quest seem absurd. Especially when eagerness lighted Edward’s eyes. Did Edward see a rich man who, if he could be lured to invest, might stave off debtors for another day?

  Edward bustled toward him, plump pink hand outstretched. “Max, good to see you.” His eyes flickered toward the empty desk. “My secretary had to take a leave of absence. I’ve been handling things myself until she gets back.” His shifty gaze told Max that the lack of a secretary reflected a salary in arrears from a man who had his back to the financial wall. Obviously, Eileen was parsimonious with her own holdings. “Keeps me pretty busy but I always have time for friends.”

  Max couldn’t see this middle-aged, defeated man committing murder and doing it so cleverly that there was no trace of a crime or a body. But there was no doubt what he had done at the Sea Side Inn. Max stood with folded arms, his stare hard. “How much money did you want from Shell for the pictures?”

  Edward froze where he stood, hand outstretched. His puddly face sagged. His eyes rounded in shock.

  “She threatened you, didn’t she?”

  Edward struggled to breathe. His chest rapidly rose and fell, rose and fell.

  “You’d better tell me your side of it.” Max never took his gaze away from Edward’s stricken face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words were scarcely audible.

  “Someone saw you taking the pictures at the Sea Side Inn.”

  Edward turned and walked blindly into his office.

  Max followed. He disliked bullying this hapless man, but cornered creatures could be dangerous.

  Edward sank into the chair behind his desk. He swallowed repeatedly, breathing fast.

  Max remained standing. “When did she tell you she was going to the police?”

  Edward looked even more shrunken. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Max recognized dull, stubborn, hopeless denial. Max never doubted that Edward had attempted blackmail, but Edward wasn’t going to admit anything. Was that because he knew the person who could send him to jail was safely dead? Max looked at a weak face and shifting eyes and considered how to attack. Edward had been obviously disturbed when Shell insisted he dance with her. That had to mean she threatened Edward before the dance. She must have talked with him. Max bluffed confidently. “Her call to you was overheard.”

  Edward lifted his head, looked at him straight, a liar’s posture. His words came fast now. “There was a misunderstanding. That’s all that it was and she knew it was just a joke. That’s right, a joke. She wouldn’t listen when I apologized.”

  Max gave him an incredulous stare. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You threatened—”

  “It was a joke.”

  “—to tell her husband about her trysts at the inn with Dave and then said you’d keep quiet for a payoff.”

  “It was a joke.”

  “I didn’t know you were on joking terms with Shell Hurst.”

  Edward pressed his thin lips together.

  “When was she going to file the police report?”

  Edward clasped his pudgy fingers together. “She knew it was a joke.”

  “She broke in to dance with you. Did she say she hadn’t decided to make a report yet? Did you offer her money? I’ll bet she thought that was hilarious. First you wanted money from her and then you offered her money. But you don’t have any extra money, do you?”

  “It was a joke.” Edward’s voice was defiant.

  “What did she say when you danced?”

  Edward hesitated, eyes shifting. Finally, he looked at Max with a craven earnestness. “You’ve got to understand. She thought everything was funny. She said she hadn’t made up her mind what she’d do to make the evening a real blast. She said, ‘Maybe I’ll make a public announcement, go up on the bandstand, borrow a trumpet.’”

  Max realized with a shock that Edward was now quoting Shell, that this was what she’d said as the swing music played and dancers laughed and chatted in the background and, no doubt, Eileen watched them with a grim stare. Eileen would have found that moment in the middle of the dan
ce floor when she surrendered her husband an incredibly public affront.

  “‘I can blow a few notes, get everyone’s attention. People love reality TV. I’ll do Reality among the Rich on Broward’s Rock. Trumpet trill and I share the trauma of a wife betrayed, the man she thought loved her sneaking around, cheating on her with his ex-wife. Messy, you know. But I will proclaim my love, insist that I will never leave his side no matter how he has treated me. Everyone will love it. Then there are the rumors about me and Dave. Am I going to run away with him? Stay tuned. Hint: I don’t like self-important men. Then—’” He broke off.

  Max didn’t doubt there had been more. Shell wouldn’t have let him off the hook. No doubt she’d included Edward and his attempt at blackmail. He looked into Edward’s watery eyes and knew he was right, but Edward now sat with his lips pressed tightly together.

  “And that’s all?”

  Pale brown eyes flickered back and forth. Edward talked fast again. “Then she said she’d been thinking about things and she’d decided to accept my apology and not cause any trouble. She said”—and now his voice was stronger—“that she was going to leave the island.”

  Max’s stare was level and hard. “Where’s the body?”

  Edward’s eyes flared in panic. “She left the island. That’s what happened. She left.”

  10

  The juke box played “Mack the Knife.” Annie shivered. “I’ve never liked that song. That’s what I feel like. If Shell’s dead, someone out there”—she waved a hand toward the big oak door of Parotti’s Bar and Grill—“is dangerous. It may,” she spoke slowly, “be Wesley Hurst. Eileen thinks he was sober. Sure, he stood at the bar through most of the dance, but maybe he was only nursing one drink. Maybe he played drunk later to make a scene so everybody’d remember him leaving and wouldn’t associate him in any way with Shell. Eileen’s observation confirms what Don Thornwall told Emma. Eileen said Wesley was walking fast toward the back of the club with no indication he’d drunk too much. That also tells us he was coming from the direction of the path to the overflow lot. And Eileen saw Jed near the grandstand, right by that path.”