I made one final stop on my way back to catch the ferry: Rockland Family Pharmacy. It was the same establishment I’d seen on the partially torn label of prescription sleeping pills in the trash at Cliffside Manor, and I had a few questions swirling around in my head that I hoped the pharmacist could answer.
A woman in a white coat was working behind the counter when I entered, counting out pills as she placed them into a plastic bottle. I waited quietly until she was done, at which point she turned to greet me with a smile. “Are you dropping off a prescription?” she asked.
“No,” I replied. “But I do have a question about a medication that my, er, mother was prescribed recently.” I’d almost said aunt but caught myself at the last moment as I remembered that even on the mainland, my aunt Gwen was well-known, and my telltale red hair linked us immediately.
“Happy to help. What’s the medication?”
“Zol…zolpi…oh dear. I can’t remember the name, but it’s to help her sleep.”
“Yes, I know the one you mean,” she said, sparing me the misery of trying to remember how to pronounce it. “What would you like to know?”
“You see, she doesn’t like swallowing the pills, so I was wondering, could she crush them up and put them in her favorite cocktail before bed?”
The pharmacist’s eyes doubled in size. “Heavens, no. That could be very dangerous.”
“Oh dear,” I answered as innocently as I possibly could, hiding my excitement at getting the answer I’d been expecting. “Why?”
“Well, for one thing, if your mother is taking a time-release version of the medication, the pills are designed to break down slowly over the course of the night. If you crush them up, she’d get a very strong dose all at once. Plus, you said cocktail.”
“Yes, is that a problem?”
“Absolutely. You don’t want to mix sleeping pills with alcohol, crushed up or otherwise.”
I nodded. “What if they aren’t time release, and I just crushed up one and put it in some soda? Like maybe ginger ale?”
The pharmacist’s mouth puckered a bit as she thought. “I suppose you could do that.”
“It wouldn’t taste bad?”
“I doubt she’d notice it. That type of pill dissolves quickly and doesn’t have much of a flavor. Still, though, I’d feel better if we checked with her doctor. If you give me the name, I can give the office a call right now.”
“We’re just in town for vacation,” I said quickly. “You know what? I’ll just tell her not to try it. Thanks for your help.”
Audrey’d had access to the sleeping pills, a drink to conceal them in, and had been on her way to the airfield the morning of the crash. There was no doubt in my mind that she could have killed Douglas Strong. But just because she could have done it didn’t mean she did. What I still needed to figure out was why she might have wanted her brother-in-law dead.
Chapter Nineteen
I returned by the late afternoon ferry, settling onto my bed at the inn and surrounding myself with the purchases I’d made that morning. The cynical side of me suspected Madame Alexandria’s mystical mumbo jumbo was all an act, a way to sell more books and crystals to a doubting witch. But deep down, much of what she’d said resonated, and I knew on some level that she’d spoken the truth. Kitchen witchery was not my calling. Before I could decide whether I wanted to fully embrace my witch heritage and dedicate myself to the study of magic, I needed to explore a broader path than what Aunt Gwen had presented to me.
My head swam as I ran my hand over the glossy covers of half a dozen new books on astrology, numerology, divination, crystals, runes, and moon magic. Until my visit to Madame Alexandria’s shop, I’d had no idea just how many paths there actually were. The options were overwhelming. Finding the one that would work best for me could take a lifetime. Meanwhile, I had a restless ghost who had taken on the form of a raven and was hanging out on my back lawn when not disturbing my sleep. I needed to know how to send him into the light, or whatever it was spirits were supposed to do, like, yesterday.
One thing I gleaned quickly as I thumbed through the pages of my new purchases was that there was no shortage of methods that witches used to communicate with the dead. It seemed each system of magic had a suggested way of doing it, whether it was the use of sacred geometry to summon my ghost or dangling a pendulum to ask him yes or no questions.
I picked up what I thought was an empty plastic shopping bag and was surprised when a dark purple crystal tumbled out onto the bed. I pinched its silver chain and held it up so the pointed tip of the crystal was suspended in the air. Immediately, it swayed gently from side to side, just as the book on divination with crystals had said it would. Ask a yes or no question, huh?
“Spirit of Douglas Strong, do you hear me?” I spoke the words out loud, speaking clearly and with as much volume and authority as I could muster. The crystal continued on its same path, but a warm tingling of energy traveled down my arm and into my fingertips. I’d expected to feel stupid, talking to nothing like this, but instead I felt empowered. I tried again, even louder. “Douglas Strong, are you here?”
“Caw!” The raven’s cry sent an electric current along my spine. The next moment, there was a flapping of wings, then a sudden thud as the raven alighted upon the windowsill. “Caw!”
My scream pierced the air as I flung the crystal from me and dashed out of the room, not stopping until I was safely on the first floor. Aunt Gwen was in the kitchen, her back to me as she stirred an iron cauldron brimming with neon pink foam. I made a beeline for the front door before she could notice my presence and ask for my help. Between the mysterious concoction brewing on the stove and whatever the heck had just happened in my bedroom with that raven, I was in desperate need of a respite from all things bewitched, enchanted, or otherwise otherworldly.
My phone buzzed, and as I pulled it from my pocket, the sight of an incoming text from Larry Sloane’s garage brought my thoughts safely back to the mundane realm of real-world problems. The message said if I brought my car around at seven o’clock that evening, he could make time to look at it first thing in the morning. With a glance at the clock, I fired up Miss Josephine for the first time since I’d arrived on the island. Thick black smoke billowed out her backside, and I prayed it wouldn’t mean the end of her. I still had about an hour to go before Larry was expecting me, but I needed to make one very important stop on my way.
The truth was, when it came to figuring out who or what had caused Douglas Strong’s plane to crash, I had exhausted the limited resources of both my sleuthing and magical abilities and wasn’t sure where to turn. Without help from Doug’s spirit, I had no idea what to do with the clues I’d gathered on the mainland. As much as I hated the idea, there was only one thing I could do with my new information. It was time for me to pay another visit to the sheriff’s office.
Miss Josephine survived the drive, but barely. As I walked into the lobby, I could still smell the remnants of exhaust that clung to my clothing. The first thing I saw inside was Sheila Briggs standing at the main desk, filling out forms. When I heard her utter the words pie and brawl to the deputy who was assisting her, I nearly turned around on the spot. I wasn’t sure if anyone had connected the dots between my blueberry pie and the anger that had been provoked by excessive truth telling, but if they hadn’t, the last thing I wanted was to give them a reason to. Before I could sneak away, Sheriff Grady entered the room and immediately caught sight of me. “Miss Bassett, you were at the diner yesterday, right?”
“I was, but—”
“Here to make a statement?”
“No, I actually had something else I was hoping to speak to you about. Privately.”
He gave me a bland look then shrugged. “Come on back.”
I followed the sheriff to the same office where Noah and I had met with him several weeks ago. That encounter had not gone well, and without Noah to intervene, I expected this one to go even worse. Still, it was the only option I had left. Af
ter we’d both taken seats, I drew a deep breath and began. “Sheriff, I’ve come across some information about the Douglas Strong crash that I think you should be aware of.”
“Not the crash again.” He rolled his eyes, not bothering to conceal the action, or his disdain, from me in the slightest. “Look, Nancy Drew, you may not be aware of this since you’re new here, but law enforcement on the island works pretty much the way it does on the mainland. My department doesn’t need you, Bess, and George gathering clues for us so we can solve the case.”
“I assume that means you’re already aware that Audrey Strong was on the mainland right before the crash?”
Sheriff Grady fixed me with a condescending stare. “Of course. We got alibis from everyone who might’ve been connected. She was on the mainland the day before the accident, picking up last-minute supplies for the party. If I remember correctly, she said she came back on the last ferry that night. Corroborated by several witnesses who saw her drive on and off.”
“Yep. I saw her myself, or her car, anyway.” I bristled as he’d recalled the details of her alibi from memory. I couldn’t help hoping what I said next would pop that little pride bubble he had going on. “Did you know she was on the mainland again early the next morning, before the first ferry?”
The sheriff’s eyebrows bunched to form a bushy caterpillar in the middle of his face. “The next morning?”
I resisted the urge to grin. “One of the workers at the Blue Anchor Craft Brewery recalls her dropping by before they opened, around six o’clock. She wanted a bottle of their ginger beer, and he gave it to her, on the house.”
“Six o’clock, you’re positive?”
“He sounded very certain of it and said she was headed to the airfield. So, either she found another way from the island to the mainland on her own in the dead of night, or she wasn’t on the evening ferry after all.”
“You said you saw her yourself, Miss Bassett. Now you say she wasn’t on it. Make up your mind.”
“I only saw her car, that antique roadster. It’s distinctive. But I never actually saw Audrey herself. I just assumed, as I’m sure most of your witnesses did. The top was up, and the truth is I have no idea who the driver was.”
“If she returned to the mainland, I’m sure Audrey had her reasons. Maybe she needed to fill a prescription.”
“Funny you should say that, because someone at Cliffside had a prescription for the same sleeping pills that were found in Doug Strong’s blood. But I’m sure you knew that.”
The sheriff’s mouth twitched as if he was trying to decide whether or not to tell me something. “Audrey had a prescription on file at the mainland pharmacy.”
“They’re very helpful there,” I told him, watching with amusement as the war between wanting to know what I had discovered and not wanting me to know what he didn’t know played out on the sheriff’s features. “Did you know that if you crush them, that type of pill has hardly any taste? You could dissolve several in some soda, like ginger beer, and no one would ever notice. Of course, if they happen to be time release instead of the normal capsules, they’d kick in after just a matter of minutes and completely incapacitate the person. I don’t suppose you know what type Audrey used?”
“I’m afraid I can’t comment on an official police investigation.” That was sheriff-speak for he hadn’t bothered to find out and didn’t enjoy being shown up by an amateur female detective. “Look, between you and me, the lead investigator at the NTSB is leaning toward declaring it an accident and closing the case any day now. The crash really rattled this little community, and I think what we could all use right now is some closure.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” As I studied the sheriff’s face, I couldn’t decide if he was ignoring the evidence I’d brought him because he was a coward who didn’t want to send his secret girlfriend’s sister to jail, or just because he was lazy. If it was the former, I hoped what I was about to say would make him think twice. “On the off chance Audrey did murder Douglas, it’s not like anyone could ever say you have ties to the Strong family that might have influenced your part in the investigation in any way.”
“If Audrey murdered Douglas Strong, she had to have a reason. You’ve given me means and opportunity but no motive, Miss Bassett.”
“Isn’t that your department’s job, Sheriff Grady? I could’ve sworn you said you didn’t need Nancy, George, and Bess to solve your cases for you.”
On that note, I left the sheriff’s office without much satisfaction but with the vague hope that maybe Sheriff Grady would be inspired to do his job, overlook his disdain for my Nancy Drew-like interference, and at least mention my concerns to the lead investigator, or even just to his girlfriend that night at dinner. Hey, a girl can dream.
It was still about fifteen minutes before seven o’clock when I coaxed Miss Josephine to within sight of Larry Sloane’s shop on the far side of the docks. The knocking of her engine warned me she’d given me all she had, so I pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine, traveling the last quarter of a mile or so on foot. Though I was earlier than he’d said to arrive, the front of the shop was already dark.
I grabbed my phone and pulled up a web browser, searching to see if there was a listing for the garage that would show the hours. As luck would have it, I was in one of the island’s many dead zones where the service was, at best, as slow as molasses. With the sinking suspicion they were already closed, I made my way around the back in hopes of finding Larry still on site so I could tell him where I’d left the car.
I found a door along the side, and when I twisted the knob, it turned in my hand. Not a single light was on inside, and the air was pungent with the acrid smell of rubber tires and engine fuel. I called out for Larry, and my voice echoed in the empty space. I pulled my phone out again and frowned at the screen. The website I’d been trying to load had finally come up, and on it was a photo of Larry Sloane, captured in profile in a way that highlighted his distinctive jawline. My breath caught in my throat. I’d never noticed it before, but now that I was looking at him from this particular angle, the resemblance he bore to Curtis Strong was undeniable.
My heart thudded against my rib cage as I recalled that Sheila had said her sister dated at least two other men the summer she’d gotten pregnant. If Larry Sloane had been one of them, well, let’s just say I suddenly had some insight into what Sheila had always wondered about.
Noah. His name echoed in my head as strongly as if I’d spoken it aloud. I needed to talk to Noah and get to the bottom of things once and for all.
I spun to leave, which was when I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, and the already dim garage went completely black.
Chapter Twenty
The first thing I became aware of was the sound of two voices somewhere in the distance, though how far away they were from me or who was speaking were both impossible questions to answer. I could only make out that one belonged to a man and the other to a woman before I became aware of something else: a wave of dizziness and nausea which threatened to send me tumbling back into the blackness.
My pulse throbbed against the back of my skull, the pain expanding with each beat until I became convinced my head was blowing up like a helium balloon. I tried to touch my hand to the spot where the aching seemed the worst, which is when I made my next unfortunate discovery of the evening: my hands were secured firmly around a metal pole behind my back with some type of thick plastic tie.
The odor of gasoline and rubber that surrounded me hinted I was still inside the garage. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw two shadowy figures standing perhaps ten feet away, one appearing to be male and the other female, matching the voices I’d heard as I first came to.
“Are you out of your mind?” the man’s voice boomed. “You can’t crush up an entire bottle of pills. If that high of a dose doesn’t kill her, she’ll fall into the bay and drown. Either way, it’s murder.”
Pills? I would’ve done almost anything
for a couple of ibuprofen to dull the pounding in my head, but even in my groggy state, I doubted those were the kind of pills the man meant. I focused every ounce of concentration on my captors as if my life depended on hearing every word they said. Maybe it did.
“It’s not murder. We just have to get her in the boat and let nature do the rest. People have accidents in the water all the time.” A chill ran through me as I recognized Audrey Strong’s voice. What exactly did she have planned for me? As panic clawed at my insides, my first instinct was to cry out, but fear had welded my throat shut, trapping the sound inside. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but she’s asking questions all over town. How long do you think it’s going to be before people start listening? And then we’re done for.”
“I don’t want any part of this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have worked so late,” Audrey snapped. “When I sent her the text from the garage phone, I specifically said to come by after hours so you wouldn’t be here, and I could take care of this myself.”
“If I’d known what you were planning to do to Doug, I never would’ve taken your car over on the ferry that night and given you an alibi.” Though I wouldn’t have recognized his voice from our brief encounter at the diner, I surmised from Audrey’s mention of the garage that her accomplice was Larry Sloane. “I’m not a murderer.”
“Neither am I! Please, sweetheart, you know that.” Her pleading tone may have swayed Larry, but the fact I’d just overheard her plotting to give me an overdose of pills and launch my body out to sea left me less convinced. “I didn’t mean for Doug to drink that ginger beer on the plane. I just wanted him to mix it into his cocktail that night, like he always did, so he would sleep long enough for me to sneak into his room and find that stupid DNA kit he had Curtis take before he had a chance to mail it in and expose us all.”
Spirits, Pies, and Alibis Page 19
