I shook my head. “It sounded like something else. A secret. He said, he’s ‘the only one who knows.’”
“So she has a secret? That she’s hiding from Ernie?”
“Maybe that’s why Megan and Chick met at the beach and not at Kahuna’s Kove.” I told her about the roses I’d seen in the Mosses’ kitchen trash.
“An affair? But you said it sounded like she hated him. Maybe they’re breaking up?” Lorel straightened. “Or maybe it was blackmail? But what on earth could you blackmail boring old Megan Moss about?”
Something tugged at my memory, something Aunt Gully said. “Chick and Megan dated before Ernie came on the scene.”
“Everyone’s heard that story. Megan turned down the rich summer kid for the steady, but much older, local guy.” Lorel turned her head.
“Yeah, doesn’t seem like a big secret. The way Aunt Gully told it, it was all common knowledge.”
“Ernie’s awfully possessive of Megan. Maybe Chick and Megan were rekindling their romance and it set him off.”
Last night, Ernie had been out of control and smelled of alcohol. “Maybe Ernie came here and tried to kill Chick?”
“And all of that made you want to get in this car, why?” Lorel snapped.
All right, maybe it was crazy. But there was something about Megan and Chick’s relationship, something that made me think there was something in it worth killing for.
I just had no idea what it was. I needed to think.
“Okay, okay.” I ran my hands over the steering wheel.
“So you think, what?” Lorel said. “You think the injured guy is Chick Costa?”
I nodded. “Ernie was angry and out of control and drunk last night. What if he saw Chick’s and Megan’s cars leaving Edwards Inlet together? There’s only one road in and out of Fox Point.” I remembered the screech of brakes. Could it have been Ernie in his sports car?
“Right when Chick was waiting to exit, Megan tore past him.” I pictured the cars tearing out of the parking lot. “She cut off another car.” I replayed the moment in my mind, heard the overpowered sports car engines. “It could’ve been Ernie’s car. Maybe he realized it was both Chick’s and Megan’s cars and he followed Chick.”
“Followed him? And?” Lorel’s voice rose.
“Chased him. Ernie was kind of crazy last night. Maybe he managed to get Chick to pull over.” I pointed to the rear of the car. “There’s a dent on this car I don’t remember seeing when Chick visited Aunt Gully’s.”
“And the two of them agreed to fight here at the Mermaid?” Lorel’s voice had an edge. “Now you’re crazy.”
“Maybe Chick was on his way out of town. He’d have to pass by here. It’s a direct route to the highway.”
“Now you’re really making things up.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I just think that Chick’s been up to dirty stuff. And I want to know why Megan was so upset. Maybe Ernie called Chick and asked him to meet at the Mermaid. Perhaps it was a bit of revenge on us. He thinks we’re to blame for the poisoning, I’m sure of it.” I chewed my lip. “Lorel, check the glove box.”
Lorel wheeled on me so fast her blue scarf slipped from her hair. “For what?” she spat. “Brass knuckles? Nuclear codes? Maybe an assault rifle? No. Allie, you’ve lost your mind.”
“To check the registration and—”
Lorel scanned behind the car. “I’m getting out of here just as soon as these nice normal-looking people pass by. Hopefully no one’ll recognize us. Because we just broke into this car, because you imagined a whole scenario about this guy that is probably not even the slightest bit true. And if Chick was injured or murdered in the Lazy Mermaid, now our fingerprints are all over his car. God, Allie, way to screw up.”
I felt sick. Of course Lorel was right. I was just so sure that Chick was, just, awful. That he was up to no good. Even if I wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing.
Chick’s car was pristine. No junk lying around, no food wrappers, no incriminating, well, anything. No bloodstains. The buttery soft leather gleamed. I ran my hands along the seat by my thighs. An envelope was tucked next to it. I could see the return address, a picture of a church, and the words “Aldersgate Family Services, Chatham, MA.” I pulled the envelope up so I could see it better. A label on the front read Brian Lukeman.
“You’re not going to read that!” Lorel slapped my hand.
“Okay, okay!” I slid the envelope back.
“Honestly, Allie, I don’t know what’s gotten in to you.”
She climbed out of the car. After I scanned the crowd, I slipped out. Lorel stomped in front of me as we walked toward the Tick Tock. Leo Rodriguez and the news truck were nowhere to be seen.
“Let’s get coffee for Hector and then go up and wait for Aunt Gully. God, I cannot believe my aunt’s being questioned. And my sister now thinks she’s Sherlock Holmes and it’s okay to break into cars and read people’s personal stuff! What else can go wrong today?” Lorel huffed.
I pulled open the screen door to the coffee shop just as Chick Costa emerged.
Chapter 26
“Ladies.” Chick carried a large coffee and an oversized muffin.
My mind whirled. If it wasn’t Chick in the lobster shed, who was it?
“Good morning, Chick, how are you?” Lorel said brightly, her automatic good manners saving the day.
“Hi,” I whispered, still in shock.
Chick stepped aside to let a family pass, angling his leather boat shoes away from a little girl’s dripping ice-cream cone.
“Great, great.” His face was unmarked. I lowered my eyes to the oversized gold signet ring on the beefy hand holding the coffee cup. His knuckles had angry red scrapes.
“Whoa, what happened to your hand?” I blurted.
Chick blinked. “Oh, nothing, just a flesh wound.” He laughed. “Yeah, happened while I was jogging. Slipped in some gravel.”
“Last night?” If Chick had had to protect himself from Ernie, he’d gotten the better end of the fight. My stomach churned. Maybe there hadn’t been a fight. Maybe my whole crazy scenario was, well, crazy.
“I thought you were heading back to Chatham after the meeting?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Chick took a long swig of coffee. “But I changed my mind. Stopped in a little place not too far from here. Took a run to unwind. Went to bed early.”
Liar. I saw you at the beach last night.
“But the cops called, wanted me to answer some questions, so I came back.”
“What time was that?” I said.
Chick gave me a hard look. Lorel’s eyes went wide.
“Not exactly sure.” He laughed. “They got me up early.”
“Oh, so you came back this morning.”
Lorel angled behind Chick’s shoulder. Her intense expression begged me to Shut Up.
“Yup. No rest for the wicked. So since I’m here, I’ll pay my respects at the funeral this afternoon. Sorry, girls. Gotta jet.” He turned to wink at Lorel. She smiled at him.
Chick melted into the crowd.
“Ugh.”
“He’s gross, I know,” Lorel said. “But your imagination’s working overtime.”
“Oh, yeah? I didn’t imagine his argument with Megan last night.”
We bought coffee and headed back to the Mermaid.
“Allie!” Lorel stopped short.
“What?”
Lorel turned to me, her hand to her neck. “Where’s my scarf?”
We retraced our steps but didn’t see it. As we arrived back at the Mermaid we both looked up as Chick’s car roared away from the curb.
“Oh, no,” Lorel said. “I think it fell off in Chick’s car!”
Chapter 27
“If Chick puts me together with that scarf, I’ll kill you,” Lorel hissed. “It has my initials on it!”
“I don’t think he’s smart enough.” I hoped. My cheeks burned. What else could I mess up today? “With his ego, he’ll just think you want a date.”
We ducked under the police tape at the Mermaid.
Hector and Hilda were still in the Adirondack chairs with their silent keeper, Officer Petrie. Petrie bent over his phone. Although he wore earbuds, the tinny sound of a computer game leaked out.
Lorel gave Hector his coffee, glared at me, then pulled out her phone.
My phone. I’d forgotten all the texts from this morning. Bronwyn had texted that there was something big happening at the Mermaid. Guiltily, I erased it. I didn’t want Bronwyn getting into trouble.
Verity’s texts were all CALL MEs.
Bronwyn coasted up the sidewalk on her mountain bike. “Hey, Allie.” Bronwyn wore a khaki skirt, tan Mystic Bay Police polo shirt, helmet, and biking gloves. I joined her at the police tape.
She waved at Officer Petrie, who responded with a friendly chin jut.
“How’re you managing with your wrist in a cast?” I said.
“I’m managing.” She smiled. “How about you? With that boot?”
“I’m managing.”
“Do you have a few minutes?” Bronwyn whispered, throwing a look at Officer Petrie.
I turned to Hilda, Hector, and Lorel. “Be right back.”
Bronwyn and I walked away from the Mermaid, Bronwyn pushing her bike, past the Tick Tock. Her face resumed its earnest look.
“What’s up, Bron?”
“I’m on a break from work. Listen, I shouldn’t be talking to you. At all.” She exhaled. “But. I heard some of the detectives talking about your aunt.”
I grabbed her arm. “What did they say? Oh, Bronwyn, I don’t want you to get in any trouble, but what did they say?”
“Allie. It’s absolutely ridiculous! They’re all state police, not from around here. They don’t know your aunt. Chief Brooks is totally in over his head. Detective Rosato, she’s so, I don’t know, awesome but also kind of…” Bronwyn groped for words. “Scary.”
“Like a robot,” I said. “Did you see Aunt Gully?”
Bronwyn shook her head. “No, she’s been taken into an interrogation room. Well, the interrogation room. There’s only one. Her lawyer’s there.”
I heaved a sigh. At least she wasn’t alone.
“Well, it’s crazy thinking Aunt Gully would hurt anyone. I mean, they must have other suspects.” I remembered the letters and posters. “What about the lobster libbers?”
We turned onto the dock by the yacht club, away from the crowds on the sidewalk. From here I could see downriver to the dock and the rear of the Lazy Mermaid property. By this time of the day, it should be busy with customers sitting at picnic benches and lobster boats dropping off their catches. Now it was empty.
“Chief Brooks had me doing research on that,” Bronwyn said. “The two signs, yours and the one at Kahuna’s, were pretty much the exact same sign. But Kahuna’s sign was covered with a big X of red paint.”
“Why the red paint on Kahuna’s sign and not the Mermaid’s? Like maybe it was two different people who posted the signs?”
“Or two different messages,” Bronwyn said. “The whole lobster libber thing isn’t going anywhere. There’re some Web sites for groups that do want to ‘Save the Lobsters’”—she made air quotes—“but not a lot. Frankly, they just don’t have the numbers or the appeal of Save the Whales or Dolphins or other cute animals.”
Lobsters weren’t referred to as “bugs” by a lot of lobstermen for nothing. “There’s nothing cute or cuddly about lobsters,” I said.
“And none of those Web sites are up to date.” Bronwyn leaned on her bike. “Too bad your aunt doesn’t have security cameras.”
“She’s too trusting.” The wind picked up and tossed my hair around my face. “Kahuna’s? Did they have cameras?”
“Nope.”
A sleek ocean racer glided past. “You know what? There are a lot of boats down by the marina next to Kahuna’s,” I said. “Some customers were chatting about security cameras on their boats. Maybe they, or the marina, got some footage of the person who put up the sign.”
“I’ll check that, but still, I think the search for the lobster libbers is a dead end. Besides.” Bronwyn threw a guilty glance up the street toward the Plex. “The lead investigators think it’s some big conspiracy against YUM.”
“Conspiracy? With lobster rolls? That’s ridiculous.” I shrugged. “But what do I know? I’m a dancer, not a detective.”
Bronwyn smiled.
“Bron,” I said, “the news reports said the poison was monkshood?”
“It was the root. Grated. It’s very poisonous.”
“Where do you get it?”
Bronwyn shrugged. “Someone grew it? Though you can get anything on the Internet. It’s extremely toxic. Even just touching the leaves has paralyzed people and animals. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“Really?”
Bronwyn nodded. “It was sprinkled across the top of the lobster rolls.”
“Wait a minute. We saw photos of the lobster rolls up on big screens at the contest,” I said. “Believe me, Ernie and Megan would’ve said something if they saw their lobster roll with—stuff—sprinkled on it.”
“The TV producers took the photos from the behind-the-scenes footage shot in the kitchen when the competitors plated their lobster rolls,” Bronwyn said.
“Oh.” Again, I saw Aunt Gully hurrying from the church, tying that blasted pink apron behind her, trying to catch up. Laughing. “So Robo Detective has my aunt admitting that she was the only one alone with the lobster rolls. After they were finished and photographed. Alone in the kitchen with them.”
“A very small window of opportunity,” Bronwyn said.
I grabbed Bronwyn’s arm. “Except that Aunt Gully saw someone else there, someone in a black T-shirt and a cap. And, and a volunteer’s ID badge.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “Did they find Aunt Gully’s fingerprints on the cloche?”
“Those big silver covers?” Bronwyn asked. “Megan Moss’s prints, but not Ernie’s. Lots of smudgy prints, probably from the volunteers who carried them. And your aunt could’ve worn gloves.”
“She didn’t have gloves,” I said. “But she could have used her apron to lift the cloche.”
“Yes.”
“Where would she keep the monkshood? In her pocket?”
“That’s why they searched the Mermaid and Gull’s Nest. Looking for it.”
I frowned. From the dock, I could see the rear wall of our lobster shed, hung with buoys, still colorful despite being weather-beaten and faded by the sun.
“They won’t ever find it because she didn’t have it.”
“Just playing devil’s advocate.” Bronwyn waved at the piers. “She could’ve thrown it off the dock. Heck, you guys live a block from the ocean. Hard to find something that’s tossed in the ocean.”
“I know you’re playing devil’s advocate, Bron, but I want to go redhead on somebody.”
“Make it Detective Rosato, not me, okay?”
A small white lobster boat chugged upriver. The Sadie Mae. It belonged to one of Aunt Gully’s lobstermen chums. He was probably dropping off lobsters and had no idea about the drama taking place at the Lazy Mermaid.
Bronwyn clicked the strap on her helmet. “Listen, Allie, I’d better go.”
“Thanks, Bron. I appreciate it.”
Bronwyn pedaled up the street toward the Plex.
For a few moments I leaned against the railing of the dock, feeling the waves move the wooden structure under my feet in a gentle sway. It was all so plausible. Aunt Gully was the last one with the lobster rolls. She had opportunity.
But motive?
I looked up toward Pearl Street, jammed with tourists who’d come to Mystic Bay to try the best lobster rolls in America. Now both of Mystic Bay’s lobster shacks were closed. I heard Ernie’s bitter words: “My loss is your gain.” If Kahuna’s were closed—permanently—that would mean a lot of business for the Lazy Mermaid.
But how could those police detectives think for a moment that my ge
ntle aunt could hurt another soul just to get business for her shack?
The groan of an engine and shouts made me turn. “No!” The Sadie Mae’s bow swung about and crashed into the Lazy Mermaid’s dock.
Chapter 28
I ran as fast as I could back to the Mermaid. I pushed past tourists who stood outside the police tape, craning their heads and slurping ice cream as they watched the latest disaster unfold as if for their entertainment. Disgusted, I hurried to the dock, gasping as pain flashed through my ankle.
Hector, Hilda, Lorel, and Officer Petrie were already there. Lorel pulled a life ring off the side of the dock pilings and slung it toward the boat.
The Sadie Mae was half submerged, its bow just barely above water. Aunt Gully’s friend Hugh O’Hare clung to the roof of his wheelhouse and caught the life ring with his right arm. He swung the ring over his head and pushed it down under his arms. It was a tight fit on his stocky torso. I heaved a sigh as it took his weight just as water surged around him and the boat slid backward.
Moments later, the Sadie Mae sank with a gurgling bubble of water. Lobster pots, line, and a red cooler bobbed to the surface. Hugh splashed toward the dock while Lorel, Hector, and I pulled the end of the line attached to the life ring.
The water off the dock wasn’t very deep. The white shimmer of Sadie Mae was visible as it settled to the bottom of the river, just beneath the surface. As we all leaned over the dock’s edge, Hugh called out.
“Hit something!” He splashed in a circle. “I’m standing on it! Hell’s bells! It’s a freaking car!”
Chapter 29
I joined the crowd craning to see over the edge of the dock. The Micasset was usually about eight to ten feet deep here. Some days, depending on the tides and weather, the water could be cloudy, but today it was clear. I looked down onto the top of a black car. My heart pounded. The car that boxed me in last night was black.
“Ernie Moss’s car,” I gasped.
Curses, Boiled Again! Page 14
