~*~
“Hi, I’m Emily Parker,” she happily told the hostess at the restaurant. “I’m supposed to meet three friends.” Emily glanced around the place and spotted them waiting at the bar. “There they are.”
Paddy’s Pub and Grill was situated at the end of Main Street, near the marina. The hostess seated the women on the outdoor patio that overlooked the docks. The night air was filled with the scent from the bay and, in the distance, the melodious rush of water washing over the rocks along the shoreline gave Emily a sense of peace.
“Been waiting long?” she asked her friends as they took their seats around the table.
“Just long enough to finish a Guinness,” Isabel teased.
“How’s Susan’s husband doin’?” Maggie asked.
“Well,” Emily paused, thinking back to what Brian had said about how the accident happened, “he’s got a long way to go before he can walk again.”
Camille lightly grasped Emily’s forearm. “The way you paused makes me think there’s something more to the story.”
“Probably not.” Emily ran her hand nervously through her mane. “Just my PI senses tingling a little. I’m sure it’s nothing—just what Brian said, an accident.”
Isabel’s dubious expression told Emily she didn’t quite believe that, but she didn’t push it.
After feasting on lobster rolls and other seafood delicacies, they strolled back to the inn, laughing and chatting. Perhaps the men had arrived by now.
Standing outside the Rock Harbor Inn, not far from the lighted swimming pool, Isabel did her best to convince the girls to join her in the inn’s restaurant for a piece of their famous blueberry pie. She was able to win Maggie and Camille over, but Emily just wanted to go to her room and rest.
“Oh, come on, Emily,” Camille pleaded. “We’re in Maine. The blueberry pie here is supposed to be fabulous.”
“I need to fit into my wedding dress in a few days.”
“You can work it off on a hike tomorrow,” Isabel encouraged.
Emily smiled and gave her head a shake. “No, not tonight. I’m tired.”
“But the boys will be here pretty soon,” Isabel said.
“I’m sure Colin will find me when he gets in.” Emily waved as she walked toward the pool and the decks with the little white picket fences lined up in a neat row. As she watched the other three enter the inn, eagerly heading to the restaurant, she still couldn’t shake the niggling doubts about her brother-in-law’s story.
~*~
A tall lamppost illuminated the swimming pool area, but the decks seemed rather dark, only touched by the moonlight. Just as well—she didn’t want bright light streaming into her room while she slept.
Swinging the small picket gate open, Emily made her way to the little deck and stepped up. She paused to pull her key out, but as she moved toward the door, she stumbled over something in the dark and fell in the direction of one of the Adirondack chairs. She expected to feel the pain of the sharp edges of the wood—but no, what she landed against felt like a big sack of potatoes.
She had pushed her hands in front of her to buffer her fall, and when she made contact with the mysterious obstruction, something warm and wet oozed between the fingers on her left hand.
That was strange. Had she fallen on a sack of rotting potatoes? One that was leaking sticky, moldy goo? That was a ridiculous notion, besides, who would play such a prank? She groped around in the dark and then froze—it could be only one thing. There was a body in the chair. A dead one.
Emily screamed and then scrambled to get up as fast as she could. She rummaged frantically for her phone and flashed the dim light from the display screen toward the chair. It was a man, his face turned away from her. He was casually dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and she might almost assume he had gotten the wrong room and had passed out drunk—except for the blood on his chest and dripping down the side of his head.
Her first thought was to dial 911, but wondered if having an out-of-state phone number would cause it ring back home or to the local emergency call center. She wasn’t sure, so she raced around to the front of the inn and sprinted to the front desk.
“Call the police! There’s a bloody body on my deck!”
The young woman behind the desk gawked at Emily, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Her gaze darted over her and then froze on Emily’s chest.
Emily followed the woman’s line of vision, realizing she had blood smeared on her cream-colored sweater—and her hand.
Her eyes flashed back to the woman’s stunned face. “Did you hear me? Call nine-one-one.” She looked at her hand. She had no way of knowing if this man’s blood was in some way tainted. A series of squeamish chills danced down her spine. “And where is the nearest sink? I need to wash this off my hand.”
“Oh, God. Oh, God.” The girl blinked a couple of times.
“Listen to me—I didn’t do it. I tripped on him in the dark. That is how I got this blood all over me. Now make the call and point me to the washroom or give me something to clean myself, this is creeping me out.”
The woman handed Emily a bunch of hand sanitizing wipes, then picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello. We need the police. I’m calling from the Rock Harbor Inn.” Her voice was shaky and ragged. “A woman just reported a body.”
Emily tore open the wipes and began to scrub at her hand. The wipes were not that effective and she was just smearing it around.
The woman spoke into the phone. “I’m not sure. I think so. I’ll check.” Her gaze shifted nervously to Emily. “Is it dead?”
“Yes. That is, I think so.” In her rush to get to the front desk, Emily had forgotten to check for a pulse. It was a rookie mistake and she knew better. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop to check. But there was a lot of blood.”
“What room are you in?” the young clerk asked.
“Room one forty,” Emily replied, leaning on the counter.
The clerk gave the information, then hung up the phone and blew out a sigh of relief. “They’re on their way.”
“Send the manager to meet me.” Emily straightened, hoping to avoid a curious crowd. “I’m going to wait for them by the body.”
“You are?” The young woman’s face twisted in disgust at the very idea.
“I’m used to dead bodies. Just send the manager.”
“He said he was going home a second ago, but he’s probably still around here someplace. I’ll find him and send him right away.” The girl was shaking like a leaf.
“Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine.”
Emily sprinted back to where the man’s body lay slumped in the deck chair. Good. A mob hadn’t started to gather yet. She dialed Isabel on her cell and explained what was happening.
“We’ll be right there.”
Before she’d hung up, blaring sirens were approaching the inn, lights flashing. Then an ambulance and a couple of police cars screeched to a halt near the inn’s entrance. A middle-aged man in a dark gray suit, likely the manager, was standing out front, pointing in her direction.
The vehicles raced forward another hundred feet or so to the edge of the parking lot, near the wing that housed Emily’s room. Leaving headlights on, a uniformed officer climbed out of the first cruiser and zipped up his jacket. He looked young, average height with a slight build and a milky complexion. His medium brown hair was neatly shorn, a little longer on top, but the night was too dark to make out the color of his eyes.
As people began to gather and move near to them, the cop stepped toward Emily, haloed in the beams emanating from the headlights. He shot a glance to the crowd then called to the other uniform. “Henry! Tape this area off and have the others keep these people back.”
Turning his attention back to Emily, he shone his flashlight on her face. “Are you the one who found the body?”
“I am.”
“Stay here and I’ll be right back.” He went over to the body and performed a cursory survey of the man and the surround
ing area using wide sweeps of his flashlight.
Within a minute he was back. “Police Chief Alvin Taylor, ma’am.”
“Chief?” He looked so young. How much experience could he have?
“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes drifted to her chest and rested there, his brows furrowing into a frown.
She reacted to his curious stare by crossing her arms over her breasts. It annoyed her, where his gaze had landed. Then she remembered—the blood soaking into her off-white sweater. Her spine stiffened. Did he actually think she was the one who killed this man? She hadn’t even gotten a good look at the dead body, it was too dark.
The girls hollered to Emily from behind the yellow tape, drawing Chief Taylor’s attention. “Friends of yours?”
“We’re on a trip together, staying here at the inn.” Emily shouted to her friends to phone Colin and her sister.
The chief turned his back on the women and faced Emily. “I’m going to have to take you down to the station and question you in-depth.”
“Chief Taylor,” the man in the gray suit called as he approached.
“Malone,” the chief answered.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” the man offered.
“Are you the manager?” Emily asked.
“I am. Eric Malone. This is your room—where the body was found?”
“Yes. On the back deck.”
“If you’d like to move, I can check to see if I have any other rooms available.”
Emily shook her head. “I’ll be fine, as long as he wasn’t in my room.”
“Whoa now,” the chief stepped in. “We’ll need to search your room and make sure it isn’t tied to the crime scene. That you’re not tied to this crime.”
“I’m not.” She looked down. “The blood on my sweater is from when I fell on him in the dark.”
“I’ll go check on that other room and leave you two to your business.” The manager marched off into the growing throng of onlookers.
“Yoo-hoo! Emily!” Maggie called from the crowd.
Emily glanced over to her, then brought her attention back to the chief. “I’m happy to tell you what I know, Chief, but I’d like to have a moment with my friends, if you don’t mind.”
“But I do mind. I need you to wait in the back of my police car until I can fully interrogate you. I don’t want you talking to anyone until I get some answers out of you.” He took her by the arm and led her to his nearby vehicle.
“Am I a suspect?” Emily jerked her arm away as he opened the door to the back seat. She glanced over at her friends, who were watching her with concerned interest.
“I won’t know that until I question you thoroughly and gather some more evidence from this here crime scene. Are you planning to be uncooperative, ma’am?”
“That’s not my intention, Chief. And please stop calling me ma’am.”
“Well, get on in there and cool your jets. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Emily!”
Her head whipped around at her name being called and Chief Taylor’s gaze followed. Colin, standing taller than the others, was weaving his way through the crowd with Alex close on his heels. As Colin approached the yellow tape, and the officer standing guard, he whipped out his gold shield and flashed it at the cop.
The officer nodded and Colin ducked under the tape and stalked to where Emily and Chief Taylor stood. Alex snaked his way over to Isabel and the others.
“Friend of yours?” the chief asked.
“You might say that.”
“Emily, what on earth?” Colin huffed as he came to a stop, his eyes drifting over her blood-covered chest.
“Someone’s dead, Colin, and the chief here thinks I’m involved.”
Chapter 6
“Are you okay?” Colin started to reach for Emily as she stood by the police car.
“Whoa.” The chief stuck his arm out to stop him.
“Chief Taylor, this is Detective Colin Andrews…my fiancé.”
“Detective, huh?” He dropped his arm. “Now, don’t get any ideas about bullying your way into my investigation.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Chief,” Colin responded flatly. “But I would like to know what you plan to do with Emily.”
“Take her down to the station for questioning, of course—she’s my only witness so far—find out if that’s all she is.”
“What do you mean by that?” Emily asked, not wanting to give away that she already knew full well what he meant.
“I’ll need to dig around. Maybe you’re the one who killed the man.” Chief Taylor gave her a stern glare.
“You think I’m the murderer?” Her eyes grew round with indignation. “I don’t even know who the vic is.”
The young chief tilted his head and frowned. “The what, now?”
“The vic, you know, the victim. Who is he?”
Chief Taylor lowered his voice and leaned in. “Reverend Ben Kinney.”
“Oh no!” Her hand flew to her mouth.
Colin’s expression grew serious. “You know him?”
She nodded sadly. “I met with him this morning. He was going to marry us.”
“So you admit you knew the murder victim?” the chief asked.
“Barely.”
“Have you questioned anyone else?” Colin asked. “The other guests? Hotel staff?”
“Well, uh, I was just about to,” the chief replied, a sheepish look on his face. He turned toward a couple of officers who were holding back the crowd. “Jenkins! Fortnoy!” He motioned for them to come to him.
“You two go round up the staff and have them wait for me in the lobby. Then, go door to door inside the inn and see if any of the guests saw or heard anything, especially these rooms that face the pool.”
“Yes, sir.” The two officers marched off to do as they were ordered.
“Who’s going to process the crime scene?” Colin asked. “And what about the medical examiner. Is he on his way?”
“I called him on the drive over. They’ll have to come from Bangor, so it’ll be at least an hour before they get here.”
“What about me, Chief?” Emily leaned on the top of the open car door.
“Stay right here in the car and wait for me,” he replied.
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips into a pout. “Wait? How long?”
“Am I going to have to put a guard on you?” The chief arched his brow.
“She’s just getting chilly.” Colin slid off his jacket and handed it, with a glare, to Emily. “Isn’t there anyone else that can question her, Chief? Anyone down at the station that can take her statement, like a detective maybe?”
“This isn’t the big city. It’s me and a handful of officers. The only one down at the station right now is the night receptionist.”
“Great,” Emily mumbled, slipping Colin’s jacket over her shoulders.
“I could round up a couple of off-duty officers I guess, but the mayor won’t like the extra overtime pay.”
“We’re happy to help, Chief,” Colin offered, “if you’ll let us. I was on the force in San Francisco and now—”
“No! You just stop right there, Detective.” It seemed as if Chief Taylor’s pride wouldn’t let him accept any outside help. “We haven’t had a murder in this town for nearly fifteen years—that’s a fact—but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.”
“I’m a private eye,” Emily explained. “We’ve been—”
“Stop!” He raised a hand to her. “I’m a little short-handed at the moment, is all. I can sort this thing out. So take a load off, lady, and I’ll get to you as soon as I can.” The chief began to walk away. “Henry,” he shouted to the officer holding the crowd back, “watch this one here that she doesn’t budge.”
The officer nodded and turned a stern gaze on Emily.
“Ma’am, you’d better be here when I get back,” Chief Taylor shouted over his shoulder, “or you and your boyfriend are going to be in a kettle of hot water.”
Emily perched on the edge of the cruiser’s back seat, facing out, with the door still open. “Now what?”
Colin bent down and kissed her softly. “Do what the man says, Babe.”
She nodded reluctantly.
Colin straightened. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine, as long as that Chief Taylor doesn’t try to pin this thing on me.” Emily stuck her hands out, palms up, as if showing her innocence. But judging by the look on Colin’s face, she had done the opposite.
“Emily?”
She followed his gaze to her hands. She had removed much of the blood with the moist towelettes given to her by the girl at the front desk, but some remained around her nails and dried in the folds of her skin.
“The vic’s blood?”
She nodded.
“How’d that happen?”
“It was dark. I couldn’t see much and I tripped over the body.” She gestured to her sweater too. “Before I knew it I was sprawled on top of him. I think I hit my hip on the arm of the wooden chair. Feels like I bruised it.”
“Why the deck to your room?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Maybe I’d better get Alex over here to go with us to the police station.” Colin sounded concerned.
“You think I need a lawyer?”
“Better to be safe.”
“Why would someone want to kill a minister?”
“He must have had some pretty scary skeletons in his closet,” Colin guessed. “How did you meet him?”
“Susan uses him for the weddings here at the inn. She, Camille, and I met with him for about ten minutes this morning. That was it.”
“Well, we have a few days before the wedding. Maybe we can solve the mystery before then and you won’t have to worry about it.”
“No, Colin. This is our wedding. I don’t want anything distracting from that.”
Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 06 - The Harbor of Lies Page 5
