“How did you get your idea for this story?” Danielle asked, still standing.
Hillary took a sip of milk before saying, “It just came to me. Like they always do. I guess I just have a wild imagination.”
“Where does this story take place? I know you don’t like to talk about your work when you first begin writing, but I thought perhaps you could tell me at least that.”
Hillary set the glass of milk back on the desk and smiled up at Danielle. “Well, you did bring me up this delicious piece of cake, so I suppose I can at least tell you that. But I don’t think it will be much of a surprise. My story will take place in a little town just like Frederickport. Of course, I’ll give it another name, make it a fictional place. I don’t like to write about real locations.” Hillary took another bite of the cake and then another.
“Why is that?”
“For one thing, people are always trying to say my stories are based on real events—which they aren’t. They come from my imagination. The minute I use a real location, I’ll have to be careful what I write about my characters or someone will insist I’ve based those on real people from the town.”
“Since you’re a murder mystery author and your next story is taking place in a town based on Frederickport, I don’t suppose your victim gets killed under the pier. Now that would be a little creepy.”
Hillary set her fork on her now empty plate and looked up at Danielle. “Why is that, dear?”
Danielle shrugged. “Well, that’s where poor Jolene—the woman who was killed last night—was murdered. Under the pier.”
“Really? I thought Joanne said she was murdered on the beach.”
“Yeah, but under the pier.” Danielle studied Hillary.
“You know what it says in Ecclesiastics,” Hillary said brightly.
“Ecclesiastics? Umm…no…what?”
“There really is nothing new under the sun. Which means all stories have already been told. So it’s not unusual for a fictional murder mystery to have some similarities to a real-life case. It doesn’t mean the author borrowed from the real-life events.”
Hillary picked up her empty plate and glass and handed them to Danielle. “This was really sweet of you, dear, but I really need to get back to work.”
Reluctantly, Danielle took the plate and glass. She glanced over to the pile of papers on the bed before leaving the room with Walt.
“Exactly what did that accomplish?” Walt asked as he followed Danielle back down the stairs.
“Nothing really. I was hoping to have more to tell the chief,” Danielle whispered.
“Are you going to say something to him?”
“I have to. I’d love to get my hands on her notes first. But I don’t see that happening.”
“I could probably help you there,” Walt suggested.
Danielle shook her head. “No. If you spirited away the pages she wrote about Jolene’s murder—”
“Spirited away?” Walt laughed.
“Isn’t that what you’d be doing?” Danielle entered the kitchen and set the dirty dishes in the sink before turning to face Walt.
“I suppose so.”
“Anyway, that would practically be stealing them from her room, and all it would do is verify what you said you read. The chief couldn’t use them to force Hillary to admit she knew something about the murder, not if they were obtained illegally. So what’s the point?” Danielle glanced nervously at the kitchen door leading to the hallway.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Danielle turned back to the sink. “I just can’t believe she had something to do with the murder. It just feels all wrong—in spite of what you read.”
“Perhaps I overreacted,” Walt suggested. “The more likely scenario, she witnessed the murder and, for whatever reason, decided not to come forward.”
Turning on the water faucet, Danielle began rinsing the dirty dishes. “If she did witness the murder, I find her attitude extremely bizarre…and creepy.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Call the chief. See if I can go back down there and talk to him before he goes home for the night.”
When Danielle got off the phone fifteen minutes later, she told Walt her talk with the chief would have to wait; he had left the office for the night and was not answering his cellphone.
MacDonald spied Steve Klein’s car parked down the street from the bank, at the diner. Instead of going home, MacDonald pulled behind the bank manager’s vehicle and parked. Inside the restaurant, he found Steve sitting alone at a booth. When the waitress greeted him and asked if he would like a table, he waved her away and headed toward the bank manager.
“You’re a hard man to get ahold of,” MacDonald said when he reached Steve’s booth.
Steve, who was just about to take a bite of his burger, set it down on his plate and smiled up at MacDonald. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you, but it’s been a crazy day.”
Without asking, MacDonald took a seat at the booth. “I’ve had a crazy day today too.”
Sheepishly, Steve picked his burger up and, before taking a bite, said, “Yeah, Jolene. I can’t believe that.”
“I understand you saw her last night.”
“Yes. At Pier Café. I would have gotten back to you after you called, but it really has been a crazy day at the bank, and I figured you wanted to talk to me because I was at the pier last night, but I really didn’t see anything that might be of help.” He took another bite of the burger.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”
Steve picked up his beer and took a drink. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
MacDonald started to say something and then paused a moment and then asked, “Why are you eating alone?”
Steve smiled. “The wife is in California, visiting her sister. I’m batching it.”
“Ahh. Pier Café last night, diner tonight?”
“Pretty much. The wife is always nagging me about eating red meat. When she’s home, all we eat is fish and chicken.” Steve took another bite of the burger.
“Carla told me Jolene talked to everyone who was in the diner last night.”
“Yeah.” Steve set his burger on his plate and picked up his napkin. He wiped off his mouth and looked over at MacDonald. “She stopped by my table. Didn’t stay long.”
“Carla said she wasn’t with anyone last night.”
Steve shook his head. “No. She came in alone. Didn’t stay long. But she seemed to know everyone in the diner. I noticed her going around the tables, saying hello to everyone.”
“Did you notice if she argued with anyone last night?”
“Argued?” Steve frowned.
“When she went around talking to everyone, was it all friendly? Or did you notice anyone who might have been unhappy with Jolene?”
“You don’t think someone who was in the Pier Café last night murdered her, do you?”
“I’m just trying to cover my bases.”
“From what I understand, Jolene was mugged last night. I heard her rings were taken. I can’t believe someone from Frederickport, someone Jolene knew, killed her. Not for her jewelry.”
“Jolene wasn’t an easy person to get along with.”
Steve let out a snort and said, “Tell me about it.” He picked up his burger and took another bite.
“What can I get you, Chief?” a waitress asked. She held a pitcher of water. MacDonald hadn’t noticed her approach the table.
“Some water would be good. I won’t be eating, just keeping Steve company while he eats.”
She smiled and filled the empty glasses on the table.
When they were alone again, the chief asked, “You have a problem with Jolene?”
“Problem?” Steve shrugged. “She was on the museum board with me. Millie thought she’d make a good replacement for the board member we lost.”
“She didn’t?”
“I think her attitude made Danielle Boatman change her mind about donating
the Thorndike emerald. We’re a nonprofit, and we can’t afford to be alienating any wealthy members.”
“I heard something about that.”
Steve shrugged. “I suspect Jolene’s attitude toward Danielle was out of jealousy. Danielle has money, and Jolene had lost hers.”
“I heard she was having money problems.”
“She came to me for a loan. She was about to lose her house.”
“That bad?”
Steve nodded. “Yeah. Her estate was tangled up with Renton’s. Money she had loaned to the law practice. Whoever wrote up the loan agreement didn’t protect Jolene’s interests.”
“Renton maybe?”
Steve shrugged again. “Doug was still alive back then. It doesn’t matter now. Jolene’s dead. I imagine her daughter will have to sort it all out.”
“You said she came to you for a loan? I assume your answer was no?”
Steve picked up his beer and took a sip before answering. “There was no way I could give her a loan. She simply didn’t have the assets or the income.”
“Last night, did you see who left after Jolene?”
Steve downed the rest of his beer. “That would probably be me. I don’t remember anyone else leaving the restaurant after Jolene. But I could be wrong.” He picked up what remained of his hamburger.
“When you went outside, did you see Jolene? Maybe walking on the pier?”
“When I went outside, she was nowhere around.”
“Did you see anyone on the pier?”
“There were a couple of guys fishing.”
“Do you know who they were?”
He shook his head. “I really didn’t pay any attention, and there wasn’t much light. Might have been someone I knew, maybe not.”
“And you never heard anything suspicious?”
“No. Nothing. Like I told you before, that’s why I didn’t think it was a big deal if I didn’t get right back to you. Nothing really to tell.”
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Chief MacDonald sat at his office desk, reading the newspaper and drinking his coffee, when he heard a knock at his open door. He looked up and saw Joe Morelli standing in the doorway.
“I see you’re reading the paper,” Joe said as he walked into the office and took a seat.
MacDonald shook his head and slammed the paper on the desk. “Can’t we ever keep anything out of the damn paper?”
“It’s—”
“Don’t say it!” MacDonald snapped. “If I hear it’s a small town one more time, I’m going to do something we’ll all regret!”
“Well, it is,” Joe said with a shrug.
“How did the paper find out about Jolene’s rings?”
“Come on, Chief, there were people on the pier when you recovered them. You didn’t really expect to keep that under wraps.”
“It would have been nice. At least for a while. Now the killer knows we’re onto him.” MacDonald downed the last of his coffee.
“I wish they could have found something at Jolene’s house. Anything.”
MacDonald set his empty cup on the desk and shoved it to the side. “There really wasn’t much in the house. She had hardly any furniture and relatively few personal items. It didn’t take them that long to go through it.”
Joe frowned. “I don’t understand that.”
“I called Melony to tell her we were going to go through her mother’s house. She told me her mom had practically emptied the house when she moved to New York. I guess she sold everything before she moved back. Might have figured shipping it all a second time was too expensive.”
“I know when the guys first got over there, they wondered if someone had been in the house because the back door was unlocked,” Joe noted. “And then there was hardly anything inside.”
“It’s entirely possible the killer got into the house and removed any incriminating evidence before we arrived. I know some of the longtime residents never lock their doors, and it’s possible Jolene left that back door unlocked. There were some smudged fingerprints on the doorknob, but it wasn’t wiped clean,” the chief explained.
“If the killer figured we wouldn’t be looking for someone Jolene knew, he—or she—may not have even considered going through her house, looking for any possible connection. But now—”
“Which is why I’ve someone keeping an eye on her place,” MacDonald said. “And what I don’t want is for the killer to go after someone he thinks might be a witness now that everyone knows the killer probably dumped Jolene’s rings off the pier.”
“Like the fishermen who were on the pier when he tossed the rings,” Joe suggested.
“We need to figure out who they were and quick, before the killer does. And he has the advantage; he probably saw who they were. If he’s afraid one of the fishermen can identify him as the person who tossed something off the pier, we might have more dead bodies to deal with.”
The office phone began to ring. MacDonald answered it. When he hung up, he said, “Pete Rogers is here. I’m going to go ahead and talk to him in my office. Check with Brian and see if he’s made any progress tracking down whoever was on that pier when Jolene was murdered.”
“Sorry I wasn’t able to come in yesterday,” Pete said when he walked into MacDonald’s office. The two men briefly shook hands and then each took a seat, MacDonald behind the desk and Pete facing it.
Peter Rogers had moved to Frederickport thirty years earlier with his new bride. Just six months after exchanging vows, his wife was diagnosed with a terminal illness. She did not make it to their first wedding anniversary. In all those years, he had never remarried.
“I understand. How was Portland?”
“It was fine. Just a doctor’s appointment. When your office called me, I was shocked to hear about Jolene.”
“I understand you saw her that night in Pier Café.”
“Yes. I stopped in late to grab something to eat.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Yeah. She stopped by my table. Said hello. We didn’t really have a long conversation.”
“I understand she made her rounds, chatting with the other diners. Did you happen to overhear anything, maybe a disagreement? Anything.”
Pete shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You know, Chief, I didn’t really think anything about it yesterday. But when I read the paper this morning and heard the killer threw Jolene’s rings off the pier—that it probably wasn’t a mugging…”
“Did you see something, hear something?”
“I’m sure it really is nothing…” He shook his head, not sounding convinced.
“What?” the chief urged.
“Steve Klein from the bank was sitting in the booth across from me when Jolene first came in. She stopped and said something to him. I don’t know what she said, but when she walked away from his table, if looks could kill.”
“What do you mean?”
“The minute she turned her back to him and walked away from his table, his smile disappeared, and he gave her the most hateful look. It was pretty obvious to me he couldn’t stand the woman.”
“Was there anything else?” MacDonald asked.
Pete let out a sigh. “After I left the diner, I saw him again. He was walking up from the beach. He’d left Pier Café a few minutes after Jolene. I figured he was out for a walk and decided to come back up on the pier.”
“Do you remember what time you left the diner?”
Pete shook his head. “I didn’t really pay any attention to the time. Sorry.”
“Do you think you left the restaurant maybe fifteen minutes after Jolene, thirty minutes, forty?”
“After Jolene?” Pete shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t pay attention to the time. Maybe thirty minutes, more or less.”
“When you saw Steve on the pier, after leaving the restaurant, did he say anything to you?”
“No. I don’t think he saw me. To be honest, he seemed preoccupied. I was standing in the shadows; I doubt he would
have seen me had he looked my way. But I was watching him. He kept looking around like he was nervous. I thought it was odd.”
“Where did he go?”
“I assume to the end of the pier, since that’s where he was heading.” Pete shrugged.
“Did you see him again?”
Pete shook his head. “No. I went to use the bathroom on the pier. When I came out, I hung around for a while before walking home. I didn’t see him again.”
“Did you happen to notice who was fishing on the pier that night?”
“There were a couple of fishermen, but I don’t know who they were.”
“Did you see Jolene again after you left the restaurant?”
Pete shook his head again. “No.”
“You said Jolene stopped by your table.”
“Yes. After she left Steve’s table, she stopped by mine.”
“Did she say anything, maybe mention anything about meeting someone later?”
“No. She just stopped, said hi.”
“Did you know Jolene very well?”
“I’ve known her for years. Her husband was my wife’s attorney; he was one of the first people I met when I first moved to town. We used to do a lot socially when Doug was alive.”
“So you and Jolene were friends?”
“Yes, but after Doug died, Jolene left town, and we really didn’t keep in touch. I’ve run into her a few times since she moved back, but honestly…”
When Pete didn’t finish his sentence, the chief asked, “Honestly what?”
Pete shrugged. “She really wasn’t the same Jolene I remembered. I don’t recall her ever being so—bitter. She just wasn’t pleasant to be around. Of course, one of the first times I saw her again since she moved back was after the Eva Aphrodite washed up on the beach, and the historical society had the ridiculous notion to keep it there as some tourist attraction. I suppose I didn’t hold back when expressing my opinion. I sure as hell did not want to look at that eyesore from my back patio. That thing would have destroyed local property values. But fortunately it seemed to take care of itself.”
“Did you notice anyone else milling around the pier that night?”
The Ghost and the Mystery Writer Page 7
