by Glen Ebisch
“Well, he isn’t working as one right now.” Clarissa paused, and then plowed ahead. “We were also engaged at one time.”
Baker’s eyes got even wider. “He didn’t tell us that either.”
“We aren’t engaged now. We broke up about six months ago after graduating from seminary. We went out separate ways.”
“But he lives down here.”
“He did have a church assignment up in northern New Jersey as an assistant pastor, but he gave it up three months ago and moved down here.”
“Why?”
Clarissa sighed. “To be near me. He wants us to get back together again.”
A small smile flitted across the Lieutenant’s lips. “I see. But aren’t you seeing Andrew Corrigan?”
Did everyone in Shore Side know all the intimate details of my life? Clarissa wondered.
“Yes, I am,” she said, a shade defiantly. “Actually, I’m going out with both of them.”
Baker chuckled. “Good for you, Pastor. Would Corrigan by any chance be the lawyer you were planning to get to represent Hamilton?”
“That was my thought.”
“Don’t you think he might have a bit of a conflict of interest?”
“I’m sure Andrew is professional enough to rise above his feelings,” she replied stiffly.
“Of course,” Baker said, but again Clarissa thought she detected a smile. Her personal life seemed to be a source of amusement for all.
“Can I see Tyler now?”
“Sure. I’ll have him brought up here to an interrogation room. You can wait for him there.”
Baker led her from his office down the hall and into a room with a table in the center.
“Wait here. An officer will bring Tyler up in a minute.”
Clarissa nodded and sat down. The walls were an institutional color, some vague shade between green and blue. She stared at them and wondered how many people had sat in the same spot she was in and stared at the walls with feelings of hopelessness, despair, and fear. Whether innocent or not, there had to be something intimidating about a police interrogation room. Suddenly the whole system of criminal justice was marshaling its forces to take away your freedom.
The door opened and a tall officer she didn’t know guided Tyler through the door. Tyler was wearing handcuffs, and the officer directed him to sit on the opposite side of the table from Clarissa.
“Can you remove his handcuffs?” she asked, as Tyler sat down across from her.
“If I do that, ma’am, I’ll have to stay in the room with you for your own safety.”
She glanced at Tyler who was staring at the table as if oblivious to the conversation.
“Okay. Leave them on,” she said.
The officer nodded as if that were the wise choice. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.” Giving Tyler one last look as if to access his tendency to violence, the officer left the room and closed the door behind him.
Clarissa smiled at Tyler who grinned back weakly.
“Are you being treated okay?” she asked.
“If you mean aside from being locked in a cell and being accused of murder, I guess things are fine.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“What did the police tell you?”
“Lieutenant Baker told me that you were at the bar to meet a boy who was killed, and you were found standing over him with the murder weapon in your hand.”
Tyler nodded. “That’s true as far as it goes.”
“How did you meet this boy in the first place?”
“Sam was referred to our center a few weeks ago. The high school social worker sent us a report that he was living with his single mother. She had a couple of jobs and wasn’t home much to supervise him. His grades were weak in a couple of areas, so the social worker thought that coming to us after school for a couple of hours of tutoring every afternoon might get him back on track. She figured his work might improve, and he’d benefit from talking with a counselor.”
“How did he feel about being at the center?”
“Like most kids, he was a bit cautious at first, but once he got to know some of the other kids and realized that the atmosphere is pretty relaxed, he settled in okay.”
“No apparent problems?”
Tyler nodded. “Nothing beyond those of most sixteen-year-olds who don’t get enough attention at home and can’t see a clear path to the future. At least not until last week.”
“What happened then?”
“He started following me around with an anxious expression on his face as if he wanted to tell me something but was afraid to. I asked him if everything was all right, and he said everything was fine in that way kids have when you know that it isn’t.” Tyler stared across the room and his eyes got dark. “Maybe if I’d insisted more, he would have opened up to me, and he’d be alive today.”
“He’d probably have just closed down if you’d been more inquisitive. Kids only tell us things in their own time, you know that.”
Tyler nodded.
“He never gave you a hint as to what was wrong?” asked Clarissa.
“Not a clue. But when he called last night, he sounded desperate. He said he had to talk to me right away. I asked him whether it couldn’t wait until the next day after school, but he said it couldn’t.”
“He wanted you to meet him at the Slipped Anchor because he worked there?”
“He worked there in the kitchen some nights and on weekends. He liked being busy. He was an ambitious kid.”
“You were supposed to meet him out in front of the bar, but when you got there, he was nowhere to be seen. Is that right?”
“I was a little bit late. I waited for a while, even walked up and down the block in case he was standing somewhere else.”
“Why didn’t you go in the bar and ask for him?”
“He told me very clearly to wait out front. I got the distinct impression he didn’t want me going into the bar looking for him.”
“How long were you there before you went up that alley?” she asked.
“I waited around outside for about ten minutes, then I started to get cold. That’s when I decided that if Sam didn’t want me to go into the bar, maybe I could walk up the alley to the kitchen and let him know I was there. I started up the alley using the flashlight on my cell phone . . . that’s when I found him.”
“And touched the body?” asked Clarissa.
“I thought maybe he was drunk or on drugs and that’s why he called me. I figured he might be unconscious. I never thought he would . . . ”
“. . . be dead. Of course not, no one would have expected that.”
“I touched his head and my hand came away covered in blood. Then I saw this tire iron lying right next to him. I don’t know what possessed me to pick it up. Maybe I thought that looking at it would tell me something about what had happened to Sam.”
“And that’s when someone saw you, standing over the body with the tire iron in your hand.”
Tyler nodded. “A man came down the alley from the back of the bar. I found out later that it was the manager. I guess he was looking to see where Sam had gone. As soon as he scoped out the scene, he pulled out his cell phone and called the police, then he got a couple of guys from the bar to watch me to make sure I didn’t run off before the police came.” Tyler smiled. “Not that I planned to run. For some reason I never thought anyone would blame me.”
“And you have no idea who would have wanted to kill Sam?”
“No idea at all.”
As Clarissa watched, she saw the darkness come into Tyler’s eyes again. When they’d been together, she’d been amazed at the ability he had to go inside himself, cutting off all contact with the outside world. There had been something appealing and mysterious about a man with such depths, but she had also discovered that it could be unhealthy, preventing him from successfully dealing with problems in the world around him.
“Detective Baker told me that you’re going before a
judge this afternoon. They’ll charge you and set bail,” she said, trying to draw him back into the present.
His eyes lightened. “They’re supposed to find a public defender for me.”
Clarissa paused. “I was thinking, what if I asked Andrew to represent you at that hearing?”
“Wouldn’t he prefer to see me locked away for a long time?” Tyler asked with a faint smile.
Clarissa smiled back. “He doesn’t dislike you that much, and I’m sure he could remain professional.”
“I’m sure he could. But does he handle criminal cases?”
“I imagine he could take care of an arraignment, but if not, I’m sure he could find someone who’s good to do it. Someone who will pay a lot more attention to your case than a public defender.”
“I don’t have much money. A good lawyer doesn’t come cheap.”
“Let’s worry about that later. For right now, why don’t we focus on getting you out of here.”
“I’m all in favor of that. One night in a cell was plenty.” His eyes darkened again. “I’m not sure how long I could stand being confined. If they find me guilty—”
“They won’t. One way or the other we’ll get to the bottom of this,” she promised, hoping that it was a promise she could keep.
*****
Once back out in her car, Clarissa took out her cell phone and scrolled down to Andrew’s number. When she reached him, she cut off any small talk and immediately gave him a concise summary of the situation. When she was done, a long sigh came back to her from the other end of the phone.
“I guess this is one of those times when I have to put ethics above self-interest,” Andrew said in a teasing voice.
“Having a rival locked up for life seems a bit over the top even for a romance novel.”
“As tempting as it might be,” Andrew said with a laugh. “Seriously, I think I can handle the arraignment. He hasn’t been arrested before, has he?”
“No, at least not that he’s ever mentioned.”
“You were engaged to him. Would he have kept something like that a secret from you?”
“No, of course not,” Clarissa said, although in reality Tyler could be rather tight-lipped about his past.
“And he has a job in the local community, and he’s an ordained minister. We should be able to convince a judge that he isn’t a flight risk and not likely to commit more violence”
“He hasn’t done anything violent yet as far as we know.”
“Of course not,” Andrew said, sounding contrite.
“How much do you think his bail will be set at?” Clarissa asked.
“I’d guess around half a million.”
“A half-million! No one can afford that.”
“He won’t have to. New Jersey has a ten-percent rule. He’ll only have to post 50k.”
“But that’s still a lot of money. Certainly more than I have.”
“You’re planning to post bail for him?” Andrew asked, the surprise evident in his voice.
“I was thinking about it.”
“Don’t. What if he runs off?”
“He wouldn’t do that. He’s innocent.”
“Lots of innocent people who have never been in legal trouble before panic and run. You don’t want to lose a ton of money.”
“So what should we do?”
“Get a bail bondsman. He’ll charge a non-refundable fee of ten to fifteen percent, but then he covers the loss if the accused runs.”
“So that would only cost me seventy-five hundred. I can afford that.”
“Look, I’d gladly pay it for you, but lawyers really aren’t supposed to post bond for their clients. Bring me the check later on in the morning. If the bail should go higher than I think it will, I’ll work it out with Larry, the bondsman. He’s the only one in town and a buddy of my father’s. Get the money in the form of a bank check made out to me, and I’ll see that Larry gets it.”
“Thanks for all your help,” Clarissa said.
“You’re welcome. But realize that if the police pursue this case against Tyler and seem to be making headway, I’d want to turn his case over to a criminal attorney, and that will cost even more.”
“Sounds like even if you’re innocent and don’t get convicted, the cost can add up.”
“Being charged with a crime is a large financial hit even under the best of circumstances.”
“Well, we can’t let an innocent man go to jail.”
“If he is innocent.”
“Surely, you can’t think that Tyler murdered that boy.”
“All I can do is judge by appearances. You told me he was found standing over the body with the murder weapon in his hand. All the police need is to find a motive, and Tyler is in a lot of trouble.”
“I know Tyler well enough to be certain that he’s no killer, so we’ll just have to find out who really killed that boy.”
A long sigh came down the line. “You didn’t learn enough the last time about how dangerous playing amateur detective can be?”
Clarissa forced herself to be patient. “I don’t want to do it again. This isn’t some kind of hobby of mine. But I have to help Tyler, don’t I?”
A moment of silence suggested that Andrew wasn’t so sure. “I guess you do,” he finally said, the resignation obvious in his voice. “But this time you have to let me help you.”
“That would be appreciated.”
“You know what they say. Two heads are better than one.”
“Absolutely,” Clarissa agreed, but she thought to herself that it might take more heads than that to solve this one.
Chapter Four
Clarissa drove back towards the parsonage thinking about the point Andrew had raised. Did Tyler have any motive for murdering the boy? She decided that the best way she could find this out would be to visit Tyler’s workplace and ask some questions. She doubted Tyler had a motive, but a visit might be the best way to find out what people thought of Sam.
She was trying to decide how to fit that trip into her already tight schedule when she saw the sign for the Shipwreck Inn coming up on her right. Since Ashley had promised Sylvia that Clarissa would help with the so-called ghost problem, Clarissa pulled over to the curb and managed to get a parking spot right in front of the Inn. One of the advantages of its being September and the middle of the week was the availability of parking in Shore Side. It was a rare commodity in the high season or on weekends.
Sylvia Drummond was standing by the desk in the front lobby of the inn when Clarissa entered. She was wearing a muumuu in a bright blue color, which was quite striking given her large, rather sturdy figure. She swooped down on Clarissa, her loose dress billowing behind her, and gave Clarissa a solid hug.
“Are you here to do the exorcism?” she asked with a hopeful smile.
“I’m afraid ministers don’t do them. If you want that, I think you’ll have to get a priest.”
Sylvia’s face fell. “I already talked about it with Father Malloy. He said he wouldn’t be comfortable doing one—something about Vatican policy. He told me it would take forever to get someone who was authorized, and I don’t have that kind of time. We have a spirit problem right here and now.”
“I can do a blessing of the inn if you think that would help.”
Sylvia looked disappointed. “I think we need something stronger than that. This is one determined ghost.”
Clarissa paused, unsure exactly how to make her point diplomatically. “Have you considered that perhaps the problem isn’t supernatural?”
Sylvia appeared puzzled. “What else could it be? Captain Boudreau has been stomping up and down the halls here for years. There’s definitely a ghost.”
“Yes. But has he ever pushed anyone before?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but who knows why a ghost does what he does? Maybe he suddenly got annoyed about something. I just put up new red drapes in the dining room. Maybe he doesn’t like red.”
“I suppose that’s possible.”
Clarissa paused. “How many guests do you have staying here right now?”
“We’re full, which is great for this late in the season. I’ve got seven staying here. Three couples and a single woman.”
“And you and your granddaughter are living here?”
“Up on the third floor. The guests have the second.” Sylvia’s eyes suddenly lost their usual vague quality and her expression sharpened. “You don’t think any of my guests could be doing this?”
Clarissa reached out and touched her gently on the arm. “Doesn’t that seem a bit more likely than it being a feisty ghost?”
Sylvia seemed reluctant to answer, finally she said, “But my guests are people of only the highest quality.”
“I’m sure. I take it that the woman staying by herself is Denise Lambson, the person who got pushed by the ghost last night.”
“That’s right. She’s a real sweetheart. It’s just lucky that she didn’t get hurt.”
“Who are your other guests?”
“The Beckers, the Harmons, and Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs.”
“Do you know anything about them aside from being of high quality?” asked Clarissa with a smile and keeping all sarcasm out of her voice.
Sylvia shook her head. “They seem nice. They chat amongst themselves at breakfast, and when I serve tea in the afternoon, but I’m so busy getting things set up and the food prepared that I don’t have time to listen.” She frowned. “But why would any of them want to go around in the night pushing people? That makes no sense.”
“I’ll admit it’s odd.”
“What if you talked with them, maybe you could find out if someone is up to something suspicious. After all, you solved that other mystery at the church a few months ago.” Sylvia’s eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands. “It’s all so Agatha Christie.”
Clarissa frowned. “I can’t just start questioning people. They won’t like being suspected of having done anything wrong and might be insulted. They might even decide to leave the inn.”
An expression of horror passed over Sylvia’s face. “I can’t have that. They’d probably want refunds, and there would be no end of headaches. Couldn’t you just join them in the parlor, express an interest in the ghost and get them talking? Maybe you could find out something useful that way.”
