by Carolyn Hart
Buck was distracted and worried the last time he and Max played golf. Buck didn’t relax until his cell rang and Fran assured him she’d taken Terry in to see the pediatrician and her sore throat wasn’t strep. Buck had earnestly related that strep was always a danger for Terry.
Max shut the folder. Buck always reflected his thoughts at the moment. He had little natural reserve. He wasn’t a man accustomed to dissembling. Max was certain Buck had lied about his last conversation with Jocelyn.
Elizabeth Katherine Ames Montgomery: Father Richard Ames, owned Ames Cleaners. Mother Louise Wylie Ames, worked in the store. Six children. Liz was the oldest. Solid student. Majored in education at the University of South Carolina. Upon graduation married Russell Montgomery. She taught second grade when Russell was stationed at Camp Lejeune. Liz and Russell returned to the island two years ago. No children. Liz is active in the china painting society, sings in a church choir, plays bridge.
Max felt impatient. Liz’s bio was accurate as far as it went, but there was nothing to reveal the passions that fuel lives. Henny believed Liz hated Jocelyn and had vandalized Jocelyn’s car. Did Liz know Russell had fathered a child that was never born? Did Liz push a hated rival from a pier? Would she kill again to prevent exposure?
He picked up Russell’s folder.
Russell Robert Montgomery: Father the late Col. (ret.) Michael “Big Mike” Montgomery. Mother Selma, a homemaker. Vice president of the “B” Club, became president upon the death of Sam Howard. Played football, basketball, soccer. Lettered in all three. 4.0 grade average. Graduated ninth in his class from The Citadel, BS in Engineering. Served five years in the Marine Corps, one tour in Iraq. Married Liz Ames upon college graduation. Returned two years ago to Broward’s Rock. Used inheritance from his father to found Montgomery Construction. Active in the Chamber of Commerce. Received an award from a state environmental group for a green house with reduced and recycled water usage and energy conservation through design. Plays golf and tennis. Shoots a Glock 34 in International Defensive Pistol Association competitions.
Max wished he had X-ray vision to check out the contents of the car pocket in Russell’s pickup. If Russell’s Glock 34 had been recently fired, it would be nice to know. He reached for the phone, let his hand drop. Billy didn’t have enough evidence to ask for a search warrant. Moreover, Russell owed nobody an answer about his gun. Not unless a crime was proved. So far as Max knew, it was still lawful to shoot off the head of a rattler.
And Russell could continue to refuse to admit anything about his last talk with Jocelyn despite what Darlene Hopper overheard. That came down to “he said, she said” and who could prove anything?
Max picked up the last folder.
Cara Jane Jackson Wilkes: Father Allen Jackson, salesman killed in a car wreck when she was four. Mother Sydney Thompson Jackson, an actress who worked in Florida in supper clubs. Cara spent most of her time on the island with her grandmother Belle Thompson. An excellent student. Worked her way through Armstrong State. BBS in Marketing. Joined a greeting card company in Miami. Married Richard Wilkes, sales rep for a mosaic-tile manufacturing company, one daughter Melissa Ann. Melissa diagnosed with leukemia at age sixteen months. Died at age two. Wilkes left a year before Melissa died to take a job in Buenos Aires. Divorce finalized six months after Melissa’s death. Cara returned to Broward’s Rock two years ago, joined Island Realty.
Max gently closed the folder. He’d always found Cara brittle with a sardonic flippancy. Now he understood. He stacked the folders. He’d take them with him, offer them to Annie. Maybe she would see something he’d missed, some fact that might point the way.
Maybe that would be unnecessary. If all had gone well, Billy would have found Darlene Hopper. Darlene may have seen what Billy needed to know, the identity of the person who walked into the woods with Iris. Armed with knowledge and the power that comes with certainty, Billy might now be talking to one of Iris’s classmates.
“A DEAD RATTLESNAKE?” ANNIE SHUDDERED.
Max’s voice over the phone was calm. “As Billy said, it could have been worse. What if he’d left a live one? Not to worry. I’ll e-mail the dossiers to you. See if they suggest anything.”
Annie put down the phone. At her computer, she opened the attachment and read quickly. She felt sadness for Cara, but she didn’t see that any of the information pointed to a double murderer. She closed down her computer.
As she stepped out of the back room of Death on Demand, she checked out her surroundings, ears tuned for a fateful rattle. She shivered as she pictured a dead rattlesnake draped on Max’s desk.
Despite her uneasiness, fueled by Max’s call, she felt a sense of accomplishment. She’d handled everyday work and organized the stack of materials ready to use for Iris’s poster. Death on Demand was empty except for her and Agatha. Now that Henny and Laurel were gone, the bookstore was, though she was loath to admit it, rather lonely. Of course when Ingrid returned, there would once again be a companionable presence.
A sharp meow pierced the air. Agatha paced toward Annie.
Annie hurried toward the coffee bar. “Although,” she said aloud, “I don’t need anyone other than you, sweetie.”
Agatha bared incisors and loped near Annie’s ankle.
The front bell rang.
Annie kept going. Customers could wait. Agatha must be fed. Not, of course, that Annie was intimidated. Certainly not. It was simply that Agatha might succumb to impatience and lacerate the nearest flesh. Which happened to be Annie’s ankle. Her speed of hand as she opened a can of salmon soufflé mixed with egg and spooned the soft food into a clean red plastic bowl was on a par with a fast-forward DVD and likely as entertaining had there been a viewer.
Agatha ate and growled, growled and ate.
Footsteps sounded in the central aisle.
Annie risked a quick stroke of silky fur. “See, everything’s fine now.”
Cara Wilkes stopped by the coffee bar. “If only that was true.” There was no trace of sardonic lightness. Her clipped voice held an edge of desperation. “Annie, I need help.”
Annie looked into a pale face with set features. “What’s wrong?”
Cara jammed a hand through her short haircut. The bracelets on her wrist jangled. “What’s right?” Her voice shook. “It’s bad enough that Iris is dead. That makes me sick. But I’m terrified by what her murder means.” Staring eyes looked haunted. “Iris came back to the island because of Jocelyn’s death. There was no reason to kill Iris unless”—a hand clutched at her throat—“somebody pushed Jocelyn off the pier.” Tears edged down her thin face. “When I pass the high school, I think about Sam and Jocelyn. When I go up my old street, I think about Iris. I see you and Max and I know you almost died and I’m scared. I didn’t think it could get any worse and now it has. Somebody’s trying to make it look like I did these things.”
Annie felt frozen. Cara was obviously scared. She might have a very good reason to be scared.
Cara pressed close to the coffee bar, her eyes beseeching. “You’ve been talking to Billy Cameron. Everybody knows that. You know what’s going on. What did he say about a gas tin?”
“Billy found an empty gas tin on the deck of the cabin. Someone threw gas everywhere. That’s why the fire was so fast.” Annie’s hands clenched. Whenever she remembered the smoke and flames, horror swept her. She stared at Cara’s face, so near her own.
Cara’s freckles stood out on her cheeks, dark against the paleness. “It’s my gas container. I mow my own yard. Billy found my initials scratched on the bottom. It has my fingerprints on it. Somebody took the tin out of my garage. Annie, I didn’t set the cabin on fire.” Her voice quivered.
“Your garage is unlocked?” But of course that was what Cara would claim.
“No. I keep it locked. A windowpane was broken out. Someone must have gotten in that way. Billy saw the smashed window, but he looked so grim. What can I do?” She sounded frantic. “I’ve got to do something to show I had not
hing to do with the fire at Nightingale Courts.”
Annie wondered if Cara was as distraught as she sounded. “What happened that night in the woods between Buck and Jocelyn?”
Cara took a step back. A tiny muscle flickered in her throat.
“You followed them.” That’s what Max had learned from Coach Butterworth.
Cara looked stricken.
Annie felt as if she pushed against a closing door. “No one saw Jocelyn after that, did they?”
Cara’s face crumpled.
Annie pressed. “You can’t keep quiet. Not now. Don’t you see? Whatever you know, you have to tell Billy.”
“I can’t.” The words could scarcely be heard. Anguish made her face look old and vulnerable.
Annie’s heart ached for her. Even though Cara and Buck’s high school romance ended, had Cara been aware of his every move at the sports picnic? Max thought Buck was lying about the night Jocelyn died.
Cara whirled away. The clatter of her steps in the central aisle sounded loud and desperate. She banged through the door and was gone.
MAX HELD THE PORTABLE PHONE AND LISTENED TO BILLY. Max’s left foot throbbed. He flexed it. “Ouch.”
Billy broke off in midsentence. “You okay?”
“Foot twinge. The nerves instructing me not to move it, stupid. I guess I won’t be jogging for a while.”
Billy laughed, sounding almost like the easygoing Billy who Max and Annie enjoyed. “Get real. Annie’s the jogger.”
Max was glad he’d provided a light moment. “Man, are you saying I’m lazy?”
“Oh”—Billy could be tactful—“let’s just say you could be the billboard dude for laid-back lifestyle.”
“I like that.” Max looked at the silver-framed photo of Annie. “Laid-back Lifestyle according to Max Darling: One—Marry the most beautiful girl in the world, Two—Play as hard as you work—”
A subdued snort from Billy suggested he didn’t think the equation balanced.
“—and Three—Sea, sand, and sun are better than rum.”
“Thought you drank Scotch. Black Label.”
It was Max’s turn to laugh out loud. “That’s called poetic license. What rhymes with Scotch. Botch?”
“Botch.” Billy once again sounded dour. “I know all about botch. As in botched. I’m up against it, Max. There are leads all over the place, but not a whisper of evidence. Like that damn snake on your desk. How am I going to trace that? And”—now he was angry—“we can’t find Darlene Hopper. I’ve been to her place, to Parotti’s, to her folks’ house. She’s—”
Call waiting beeped, blipping part of Billy’s words. Max glanced at the caller ID. “Hold on, Billy. Hey, it’s Darlene calling. Let me put you on the line.” Max punched buttons. “Hello.” From the hollow tone, he knew Billy could hear as well.
The voice was low and hurried. “Is this the number for the reward? Ten thousand dollars?”
“Right. The reward will be payable—”
She cut in impatiently. “My name’s Darlene Hopper. Write that down. I’m the one who found out what happened. If it weren’t for me, nobody would know. If I hadn’t been looking at the right time, you’d never know who killed Iris and Jocelyn. I want a promise that they put it in the paper that I’m the one who found out. I don’t care about the money. If you pay anybody, you should pay me. But that isn’t what matters. I’ve got some help now, but I’m the main one. We’re setting up a trap. We’ll get pictures. But none of it would have happened except for me.” A pause and a shaky breath. “I wish I had a gun. I wish I could watch Jocelyn’s murderer die.” The line clicked off.
Billy called out, “Wait.”
There was no answer.
“WE. IS THAT WHAT DARLENE SAID?” ANNIE TRIED TO KEEP her voice steady.
Max sat in the passenger seat of the Volvo, his face grim. “That’s what she said. Darlene and somebody are setting a trap. Only, I don’t think so. I think a smooth-tongued devil has convinced Darlene someone else was the killer.”
Annie remembered Darlene’s tears for Jocelyn. Yes, Darlene called Max about the reward, but money didn’t matter to her. She wanted justice. Darlene wanted to be acclaimed as the one who avenged Jocelyn. She hadn’t saved Jocelyn that long ago foggy night, but now she could be a heroine and capture Jocelyn’s murderer. “Oh, Max.” Annie sounded despairing. She drove fast. “Billy’s probably already at Darlene’s cabin.”
“I hope so.” He stared at the shadowy road, leaned forward as if to urge the car ahead.
Annie pressed the accelerator. The speedometer nudged seventy, a wild pace for the island. She slowed at each curve in case an unwary bicyclist or jogger might be in her path. “Darlene saw someone she knew go into the woods with Iris.” Annie slowed for a doe and two fawns to amble across the blacktop. “Darlene called that person.”
Max was angry. “Why didn’t she notify Billy?”
“I doubt if Darlene is in the habit of going to the police, talking to them. Maybe her idea was to get some kind of admission and call about the reward.” Annie slowed for the crossbar to lift. Once beyond the gate, she took a looping side road to avoid Main Street.
Max shook his head. “Maybe we’ve got it all wrong. Maybe someone is helping her set a trap.”
“Maybe.” Annie wished she believed that was possible. “I’m afraid she called the murderer and was told something like, ‘I walked into the woods with Iris, but I left her there. I heard a noise on the path and I stepped behind a holly bush. I saw one of our classmates come up to Iris. I went back to the picnic. The next day when I heard about Iris, I knew who killed her. I didn’t think anyone would believe me. Now the two of us together can get some proof. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll call and say we know what happened to Iris and set up a meeting. We’ll be safe enough. I’ll have my cell and we can call for help if there’s trouble.’”
Max looked at her. “And then?”
Annie gripped the wheel tighter. “The murderer can’t let Darlene talk. But maybe we’ll find Darlene in time. Maybe she called from her cabin and she hasn’t left yet.” The Volvo jounced down the rutted road, came around a curve to the now familiar dusty clearing and row of weathered cabins.
A police cruiser was parked in front of Darlene’s cabin.
Annie parked beside the cruiser. As Annie got out the wheelchair for Max, Billy came around the side of the cabin, moving fast. He gave them a brusque nod.
Max held up a hand and wheeled past Annie. “Better wait a minute.” He reached Billy. “Is Darlene here?”
Billy gestured at the cabin. “I went all the way around, pounded on the doors, looked in the windows. The back door was ajar. Since I was acting on a tip and there’s a possibility of foul play, I went in. There’s no trace of her. She doesn’t have a car. There’s a bike lock on the back porch but no bike.”
Annie’s faint hope of finding Darlene faded. If the bike was gone, Darlene wasn’t in the cabin. Where was she? Who was with her? Could they find her in time?
Billy strode toward the cruiser, he and Max talking. Annie’s thoughts skittered like windblown leaves. Darlene could have called from anywhere…lots of people didn’t even have old-fashioned phones now…if she called on her cell she could have been on her way to meet that faceless figure who slipped through woods unseen, dealing death….
The radio in the cruiser crackled. “…no trace yet, Chief. Lou and Hyla are out looking.”
Billy was gruff. “Call Bud Heaston, see if he can round up the Scout troop. We may have to ask for help from the sheriff’s office. She could be anywhere. Probably she’s somewhere on the north end of the island. Nobody involved lives in the gated area.”
Annie stood stiff and still. Cara lived in a small frame house two blocks from Main. Buck and Fran’s house was on the marsh a half-mile from the harbor. Russell and Liz lived in an antebellum house that overlooked the harbor. Cara was a real estate agent and the offices were on Main. Liz’s and Fran’s shops were on Main. Buck’s
family law office was near the harbor park. Russell was working on their house not far from Main. Everyone was close to town and close to the harbor pavilion. If a trap was to be set, what better place than the dim woods where Iris met death?
Annie reached out, gripped Billy’s arm. “The woods by the pavilion.”
“Hold on, Mavis.” Billy turned to Annie, his expression skeptical. “The old murderer-returning-to-the-scene-of-the-crime?” As he spoke, his tone dismissive, his face changed. “By God, maybe you’re right.” He spoke fast into the mike. “Alert Lou and Hyla. Send them to the harbor pavilion and the site where the body was found. Warn them. Body armor and guns. If they get there in time, there may be an armed and dangerous suspect.”
THE VOLVO RACED A SCANT SIX FEET BEHIND THE CRUISER. Red lights whirling, siren blasting, the cruiser and Volvo careened around stopped cars, brought traffic to a standstill on Main Street.
Annie’s heart thudded. She lacked the cool-headed nerves required for EMTs and police. She grimly kept the pace even though barreling past stopped cars and through intersections made her palms sweat and her stomach knot.
The cruiser slid to a stop in the pavilion parking lot. Billy was out and running, lightly for a big man, toward the entrance to the woods. Annie felt shaky as she slammed her door and hurried around the car to pull out the wheelchair for Max and set it up.
As he swung from the car to the wheelchair, Max banged a foot and gave a grunt of pain. Even so, he didn’t pause, turning the chair toward the woods.
Annie gripped Max’s shoulder. “We’d better wait. Lou and Hyla are armed.”
Max frowned. “I’ll go. You stay here. I set up that damn reward.”
