Sea Glass Sunrise

by Donna Kauffman

  Calder shrugged. “That’s all he’s gone after so far. If he wants to make his mark, and especially if he envisions tourists being any part of his scheme, the waterfront is really the only place to do it.”

  Logan made more notes, but said nothing.

  “Bottom line, I can’t help but think Winstock is using me, somehow, some way, to get to Jonah. I told Jonah as much the day we met, and that was before my talk with Owen. It’s the only reason I can see for Winstock to reach out to me. I just can’t figure out what he’s trying to achieve.” He let his foot drop to the floor, and leaned forward again, forearms on the old table now, gaze directly on Logan’s face. “And then the boathouse goes up in flames. And I’m right there. And Jonah sure as hell thinks I have something to do with it, despite the fact that my first instinct was to race toward the fire to save his sorry hide. Which I did. He slept right through the explosion. And his little great-granddaughter was there with him.” He shook his head. “I’m not the villain here. I didn’t burn anything,” Calder reiterated, in case it needed saying again. “But someone sure as hell did.”

  Logan was quiet for another moment, then said, “You’re the first Blue from your side of the family to set foot in Blueberry Cove for a century. Thirty-six hours later, a rather valuable piece of property belonging to the patriarch of the other side of the same family goes up in flames.” Logan leaned his elbows on the table, and Calder had to admit, for all that Hannah’s brother had been calm and cool up to now, he didn’t doubt the man could pull off the bad-cop role with equal effectiveness. “And now you’re telling me that one of the wealthiest men in this town, one whose family has been here for five generations, is somehow at the bottom of all of it. Help me understand how that could possibly be true.”

  “Why would I burn Jonah’s boathouse? What could I have to gain from that?” Calder asked, his patience fraying again. “The Cove side still holds a grudge against my family, and I understand more clearly now why that is, but they’re the angry ones. Not me, not anyone from my side. We look at it more like something they should get over. Ask any Blue in Calais and they’ll tell you we wrote off this side of the family a very long time ago. Now someone—this very same wealthy man—is pulling the hated side of our family back into this town to build something the Blues here surely don’t want to see built. It seems to be a very deliberate thing on his part, otherwise why come to me seeking a bid? And why accept one that’s clearly beyond anything I should be asking for? What other purpose is he trying to achieve?”

  “Why haven’t you asked him that very thing?”

  “I plan to,” Calder said, quieting his voice, trying to corral what was left of his patience, rather than shouting the words as he wanted to. “If we ever sit down. It’s not a phone-call kind of question. I want to see his face, read him, when I broach that topic. He doesn’t even know what my motives are for being here, hasn’t asked. I can only assume he thinks I’m here for the big payday, too stupid, foolish, or greedy to consider that anything else might be going on. Figuring out the real story is the only thing I’m interested in getting from him, or this town. I just want answers. And if that helps me to mend this ridiculous tear in our family, great. But my father and brothers could give a good goddamn about that, and in fact, think I’m wasting valuable time being here.” He shot Logan an arched look. “I’m beginning to think they have a point.”

  “What did Jonah say about all that, during your face-to-face? Did you tell him your suspicions? About Winstock?”

  “I did, and that I was here to figure out why I was hired in the first place. I told him it made sense that Winstock would target his property, since he first targeted Monaghan’s place and will still be using his docks as a base to operate the schooner trips, and then he took Delia O’Reilly’s diner property. Blue’s is the next property on the harbor, and a big, lucrative one at that.”

  “And Jonah’s response?”

  “He was even more pissed off at me. He assumed I was saying he could be bought, when I was actually warning him that Winstock wouldn’t likely offer him a dime, either because he knew Jonah wouldn’t budge, or because—who the hell knows why? He hasn’t been buying his way into this legacy he’s building, he’s been taking it. Or trying to. I spoke to Monaghan—I know what happened with the shipyard property, and how he came to build Winstock that boat, and how Winstock tried, and to some degree succeeded, to co-opt the future of the shipyard. Monaghan was only able to thwart the bigger plan because of an equally deep-pocketed ally. But Jonah ordered me off his property, made it clear I was never to set foot on it again.”

  “Yet you did.”

  Calder felt his temper climb as his pulse rate sped up. “It was a warning I heeded immediately and had no intention of disobeying, until I saw his boathouse blow up. I figured he wouldn’t mind me being on his property if it meant saving his life.” Calder paused, then looked down and shook his head. “Apparently I should have left him and his great-granddaughter there to possibly—” He couldn’t even finish that thought. He looked directly at Logan. “Why does he think I would do such a thing?”

  “What? Rush in to save him? Or torch the boathouse?”

  “Either. Both.” Calder lifted his hands, then let them both fall to rest on the calf of his propped leg. “I think the person we should be talking about is Brooks Winstock. He’s the only one, as far as I can tell, with any kind of motive to burn the place.”

  “What motive would that be?” Logan lifted a hand. “I know what you’ve already said, but spell it out for me, from your viewpoint, what exactly you think he stands to gain by blowing up that boathouse?”

  “I understand the boathouse that burned stored a large part of Jonah’s inventory. I saw his face that night, when he looked at the fire. It was a bleak, defeated look. Maybe Winstock plans to ruin him, or put him in such dire financial straits that he’ll have to sell. I don’t know. Again, I’m not the one you should be talking to about that.” He shoved his chair back, his patience at an end. There wasn’t anything else to say and he was done repeating himself. “But clearly meaningful dialogue is not something this town is interested in. Except perhaps for your mayor. Good man, decent guy. Ask him about our conversation, get his insight on this, on me. Because I have nothing else to offer you and you don’t seem interested in what I have to say. Now, unless you plan on charging me with something, I’m done with this particular meaningful dialogue.” He stood.

  “Sit down, Mr. Blue,” Logan said, his tone as even and infuriatingly calm as ever.

  “Are you bringing charges?” Calder asked, just as evenly. Okay, his teeth might have been on the edge of being bared, but if the police chief just wanted a scapegoat, then apparently it was going to be up to Calder to find out who’d actually destroyed property and put two lives at risk. He couldn’t do that standing in the police station.

  “I have a few more questions. If you don’t mind.”

  “He does mind.”

  Logan looked up. Surprise etched his rugged, stony features for the first time, but Calder barely noticed as he turned to face Hannah, who’d just come directly into the room, without any preliminaries.

  “Hannah—” both men said at the same time, then broke off and glared at one another. It was the first inkling Calder had that Logan was a damn sight more pissed off about this whole thing than he’d let on. If Calder weren’t so annoyed and frustrated, he’d have given the man a nod of respect for being pretty damn good at his job. But since McCrae’s intent was apparently to railroad Calder into some kind of guilty plea, he wasn’t feeling particularly generous at the moment.

  “Why are you here?” Logan asked, before Hannah or Calder could say anything further.

  Hannah stepped in, cool as a cucumber and looking every inch the expensive Capitol Hill litigator she was. In slim black pants, black jacket, white blouse, all exquisitely tailored to fit her wandlike frame, she looked so crisp he was surprised he didn’t feel a chill rolling off the high-thread-count
fabric. Her hair was pulled back in the same sleek manner it had been when he’d first met her, in yet another tasteful and pricey-looking clasp. Small, understated gold earrings and a single thin gold necklace completed her litigator look. Someone had done a hell of a job with makeup again, because other than the thin bandage on the bridge of her nose, covering the stitches, and the slight puffiness of her lip where the cut had also been expertly concealed underneath barely there lipstick, there was no visible trace of the trauma she’d suffered just two days earlier.

  “Hannah,” Calder said, as Logan also stood, but she merely nodded at him before turning back to her brother. It was only then that he noted she was carrying her leather day planner, and—a briefcase? Who brought a briefcase with them while on vacation for a family wedding?

  Hannah McCrae did. He found himself fighting a smile as he pulled out the chair next to his. “I won’t need that,” she said to him, “but thank you.” She looked at Logan. “Calder didn’t torch Jonah’s boathouse,” she told him. “And you’re wasting valuable time you could be spending on finding out who actually did.”

  “Excuse me, Counselor,” Logan interrupted, appearing surprised, but otherwise not at all perturbed by her sudden intrusion. “I’m not done questioning Mr. Blue. I’ll be happy to talk to you separately. In fact, you’re next on my list.”

  “There’s a list?” she asked. “Good. That’s very good. But I’m not leaving.” Calder shifted behind the chair, and pushed it in for her as she apparently changed her mind and took a seat.

  He sat back down in his chair, and a now more annoyed-looking Chief McCrae did the same. Funny how quickly things could change, Calder thought, his frustration taking a backseat to amusement. At least for now.

  “You were there,” Logan said, directing the comment to Calder. “Which makes you an eyewitness, at the very least. Given the hour, the area was otherwise empty. Blue’s was long closed. Delia’s Diner is gone, Brodie’s boatbuilding operation would have been closed by then, too. The other new shipyard businesses aren’t open yet. Leaving you—”

  “And me,” Hannah put in. “Along with the person who actually set the fire, as at least three people who were down by the docks that night. And it doesn’t take a crowd, Logan. Only one. The fewer witnesses around, the better. I was only there because I needed a break from the noise at the rehearsal party. My head was pounding.” She looked at Calder. “I assume you explained your presence.”

  Calder nodded, but didn’t add anything. She seemed to be doing a fine job all by herself, and more importantly, her brother actually seemed to be listening to her. Frankly, when she got that look in her eye, he doubted there was a person alive who wouldn’t hang on her every word. Whether in fear, in admiration, or . . . in whatever the hell she was making him feel. He shifted a little in his seat, acknowledging how she was making him feel, and tamped down a smile.

  She’d already turned back to her brother. “Then you have our statements. I believe the person you need to be interrogating is Brooks Winstock. Unless Jonah has an angry ex-employee or vendor he’s fired, Brooks is the only other person I can see with a stake in Jonah’s livelihood.”

  “Other than the Blue family member presently seated beside you,” Logan replied, still with infuriating calm.

  Though, now that Calder could view the scene more objectively, he noticed there was tension in the man’s face, at the corners of his eyes, his mouth. And in the grip he had on the pen in his hand. He wasn’t calm at all. He just hid his agitation very well. Once again, Calder hid the urge to smile. “He has no reason to destroy Jonah’s property. He holds no ill will toward the Cove Blues. Quite in reverse actually. And being thrown off Jonah’s property hardly set him off so badly he decided to torch the place. He has no record, no history of anything like that.”

  Logan must have seen Calder’s raised eyebrow, because he looked at him now. “You have something you’d like to add? You look surprised.”

  “That she knows my criminal history or lack thereof? Yes, I am. But, it’s true, I’ve got nothing to hide. A fact she just confirmed, I believe. Feel free to check, all the same.”

  Logan looked between the two of them; then he might have sworn under his breath. “You are the only two eyewitnesses we have.” He looked at his sister, and something of his real feelings on the matter edged his words as he said, “I realize we’re not in a fancy Capitol Hill deposition room, but I would like to talk to each of you separately.”

  “Oh please,” Hannah said, and laid her briefcase on the table and flipped it open. She drew out a small recorder, which she set on the table between the two men, and a yellow legal pad, and a small iPad, which she also set up, and plugged her phone into.

  “Hannah—” Logan started, sounding more exasperated by the moment, much to Calder’s enjoyment, but she lifted a hand, effectively shushing him.

  She closed her briefcase and set it aside, checked her tablet to make sure her phone had provided her with the hot spot she needed to be connected to the Internet. Then she very deliberately leaned forward and pressed down the RECORD button on the small cassette player. “Old school,” she said, “but I like it.” She said the date and the time. “Blueberry Cove Chief of Police Logan McCrae questioning Mr. Calder Blue in reference to the fire and subsequent loss of Jonah Blue’s bait and tackle boathouse in Half Moon Harbor.” She straightened. “Please, start from the beginning.”

  “This isn’t necessary,” Logan said.

  “On the contrary, if you’re talking about separating us to take statements, then my client deserves—”

  “Your client? You can’t represent him,” Logan stated and Calder delighted in the vein that started to rise up just above the man’s left temple. “You’re an eyewitness.”

  “I will give you my statement separately when we’ve finished. You already have my separate eyewitness account on record from last night.” She recited into the recorder the name of the officer she’d given her statement to, along with the date and the approximate time. “As you well know, but for the record, I am licensed to practice law in the state of Maine, something I believe you suggested I do soon after passing the D.C. bar, to help protect our family interests here, if ever needed. So, I am well within my rights to offer Mr. Blue my services as counsel.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  For his part, Calder just leaned back and propped his booted foot on his knee again. He didn’t need Hannah’s help, but the entertainment value alone made it well worth any potential future complications. Professional or personal. He liked seeing Hannah in litigator mode. Anyone who thought her cold must not have been paying attention. She was fiery, passionate, anything but icy. He felt other parts respond to that train of thought and deliberately looked back at Logan. Yeah, that took care of that. For now.

  Calder spoke. “I’ve already explained to your brother, the chief here, that I was looking out over the docks and the harbor after my meeting was canceled, trying to figure out what Brooks Winstock’s bigger plan might be, when I ran into you lecturing some poor jerk in D.C. who was trying to hire you—”

  “That’s not pertinent to this investigation,” she inserted calmly enough, but he’d been watching her and hadn’t missed the brief flash of surprise and—had that been panic?—that crossed her eyes. Seemed so uncharacteristic for her, he questioned whether he’d seen it at all, but he was fairly certain he had it right.

  Was Logan such a protective older brother? They were both in their thirties, for God’s sake. She hardly needed looking after. Not to mention she’d handed the asshole’s balls back to him on a silver platter. So, was it possibly something else? And if so . . . what?

  As Hannah explained to Logan that they’d run into each other and talked about inconsequential things, like the wedding plans—though he noted she didn’t mention their little acupressure session, or the kiss—Calder thought back over the phone call he’d overheard. From what he’d pieced together, both from her side
of the conversation and from what he could hear of the guy on the other end of the line, Limp Dick had been trying to hire her for his law firm, using rather suggestive innuendo to lure her in.

  Calder didn’t know how things were in a big metropolitan city like D.C., but he’d be surprised to learn that that method was a popular recruitment technique for someone of Hannah’s obvious caliber. He’d only known the woman a few short days, but he could state with fair certainty that even if it was, sexual innuendo was about as wrong an approach as someone could take with her. Not because she was a cold fish—far from—but because she oozed class, and, if anything, carried her polished professional demeanor too far into her personal interactions. Why on earth that guy would think she’d be swayed by—wait. That part of the conversation clicked off as something she’d said clicked in. It’s true, I no longer work for Holcombe and Daggett.

  Calder chewed on that tidbit for a moment, then glanced casually between brother and sister. It was purely a guess on his part, but could she be worried about her brother finding out that she was no longer employed by her legal firm? Didn’t mean she hadn’t taken a position elsewhere, but piece that together with her comments about having too many other things going on to add him into the mix, and—

  “Calder?”

  He snapped his attention back to the room and its occupants, glancing toward Hannah. “I’m sorry, I was . . . going back over every step of last night.”

  She held his gaze a moment longer than was absolutely necessary, and her expression didn’t falter or change by so much as a single flicker. But somehow he knew what she was trying to telegraph to him. There was no way to reassure her that he wasn’t going to out her recent job shift, or mention their more personal interaction, since neither thing pertained to figuring out who’d gotten busy with some matches and gasoline. All he could do was show her.

  “Have you spoken to Jonah at all since he went back inside his boathouse last night?” Hannah asked Calder.