by Cindy Davis
Sergeant Espinoza glanced up from his page. “You heard them yelling?”
“We all yell. It’s the only way to communicate over the sound of the water and the air pushing out of the sails.” Payton ran a hand through her hair. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I was busy, but something about the way they were yelling struck me.”
“You mean their body language?”
“Yes, I guess that’s right. Sean was standing kind of stiff, and Frank was a little bent over, like he was carrying something. He staggered toward Sean.”
“Staggered?”
“Again, it’s the only way to walk on deck.” Payton thought, then said, “All I saw was him taking one or two steps, sort of bent over. I got busy maneuvering the boat around the pin.”
“Were Mr. Simpson’s steps angry? Or just regular?”
“I think…he was walking fast but not stalking. Yeah, I’d say he was just in a hurry.”
“When did you see the men again?”
“On the home stretch. I wondered why the crowd wasn’t cheering. There were so many spectators. But they were looking behind us. I looked but didn’t see anything unusual. MaryAnn’s sails were loose, that’s about all.”
“Are loose sails normal?”
“If the wind changes suddenly.”
“Where were the other boats at that time?”
“Helen and Carter were just in front of us. Or maybe it was Sylvie. I’m not sure.”
The sergeant made a note.
“That’s when MaryAnn spotted Sean’s boat going out of control. The sails were really flapping and the boat veered off course. MaryAnn yelled that she’d get Zephyr alongside if I wanted to try and leap across to—”
“Where were Mr. Adams and Mr. Simpson at that time?”
“I don’t know.”
“You couldn’t see them?”
“No. I—”
“If you couldn’t see anyone, then why were you going to jump across?”
Payton’s brow wrinkled as she concentrated. She put her head in her hands. It couldn’t hurt to let the afternoon’s horror replay for just a moment, could it? She let the waves break, heard the crowd’s screams, felt the wind in her face. She felt dizzy when she looked up. “They were lying on the deck. I remember thinking Sean must have been hit by the boom, but then I saw Frank lying near the helm. The boom couldn’t have hit both of them. Not that distance apart.”
“They were both lying down? Not stooping or bending?” The sergeant flipped to a new page.
“Sean was on his stomach, Frank on his back. Wait.” Payton felt herself frowning. At first she didn’t know why. Something was off kilter. She put her face in her hands to block out the policeman. Finally the image cleared and she looked up. “Sean and Frank were lying on the deck. Lying down.”
The sergeant nodded. When he said, “The coroner said they were already dead,” he watched her very closely.
“They didn’t drown.”
“They were already dead. We don’t know how yet. Tell me what happened next? You saw them lying on the deck.”
“MaryAnn brought us alongside. I jumped. The next thing I remember with any clarity is someone sitting on my back, squeezing water out of me.”
The sergeant was busy writing. Payton thought of Aden. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here buffering the space between her and authority?
“Who pulled me out?”
“A man from Massachusetts. His name is—” he thumbed through his pages. “Dennis Rogers of Chatham.”
“Do you know how I can contact him? I’d like to thank him.”
“He’s gone home already, but I have his number.” He scribbled then tore out the page and passed it to her.
NINETEEN
Payton turned on the lights in the shop and puttered around, picking off dead leaves, dusting. She stood in the patio area for a long time, absorbing the aromas and melding them with the sounds of the wakening town. Did it sound different without Sean Adams? Was there a palpable difference in the atmosphere?
When Cameron died, she’d definitely thought so. But Cameron was well loved. His death impacted not only his immediate family but members of the business world. Echoes of his murder reverberated as far as Europe. Payton didn’t think Sean’s death would be that far-reaching, yet the air did hold a similar aura. Death lent a massive weight to those left behind, her analyst had told her. And she’d been right. Payton still carried the burden of her husband’s death, just as MaryAnn would. Neither divorce nor death could take away what a couple once had.
Payton twisted the knob for the outdoor sprinkler system and set the timer. It was just a little egg timer on the counter, but one time she’d forgotten to turn it off and customers had to slosh on wet ground all morning.
Payton returned inside intent on making coffee. MaryAnn appeared in the doorway. Her cheeks were hollow and she fidgeted her fingers around the strap of her shoulder bag.
“Good heavens, what are you doing here? I wanted to call to tell you to take the day off, but I didn’t know where you were staying. Here, sit down.” Payton settled her in the middle of the ugly-patterned sofa and sat in the facing chair. She wished there was some brandy in the place.
MaryAnn’s purse dropped off her shoulder as she fell back into the cushions. “I came to see how you were.”
“I ache all over and have a bugger of a sore throat, but otherwise I’m good. What about you?”
“I slept in Sean’s bed last night. I don’t know why.” Her face puckered. “Payton, shouldn’t I be sorry he’s dead? I’m not. I just feel dead myself.” She shook her head as if to dislodge hair from her face. “He really did love me, you know.”
“Of course. Did he have a will?”
The first giggle burst from MaryAnn’s throat like a rocket. She laughed, doubled over until Payton laid a hand on the girl’s thigh. When she looked up, Payton asked, “What’s so funny?”
“Sean had the strongest will of anyone I ever met!” Then as if someone flipped a switch, she grew serious again. “A will. Yes, we did them when we first got married. Sean thought it was romantic. I thought it was morbid but went along with it. I went along with lots of things back then.”
Scuffing shoes in the doorway made them look up. Helen stood there, her eyes adjusting to the lighting. She held something in her left hand. “Oh, there you are.” She started across the room, but when she recognized Payton’s guest, she tossed the item on the counter and went to sit beside MaryAnn. “What on earth possessed you to open the shop this morning? Look at the two of you; you look like hell. When was the last time either of you had anything to eat?”
“Aden fed me soup last night.”
MaryAnn shrugged and leaned forward a little. She hadn’t bothered to cover up her black eye. “Will you help me with the funeral arrangements?”
“Of course.” It was the second time in two days Payton agreed to something without thinking. It was also the second time she regretted the words the instant they were out of her mouth. “We’ll get busy with it this afternoon, after you’ve eaten and rested.”
MaryAnn started to get up.
“Wait, dear,” Helen said. “Why don’t you just sit here a while. I’ll go find you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry, really.”
“Well, I am. My whole routine is off. Carter and I didn’t get home until after two a.m. He’s still sleeping, poor thing.”
“They kept you there that long?” Payton asked.
“Asking questions. What did we see? Where was everyone?” Helen rubbed her eyes. “Who can remember all that when they’re so busy? I just talked to Felicia. She said first thing this morning the police were hauling the Marches down to headquarters.”
“Heavens, what for?”
“To go over the videotapes of the race.”
“They’re probably trying to figure out what knocked the men overboard,” Payton said. “They kept asking me about a rogue wave. I didn’t feel anything, did you
?”
MaryAnn shook her head.
“I find it odd they’d both be washed over at the same time,” Helen said. “Very odd indeed.”
The door opened. Claire became silhouetted in the morning light. “Morning, ladies.”
“Well, hello.” Helen rose and went to her. “I was on my way to visit you in the hospital, but I bumped into Vaughn and he said they’d sent you home. After I checked on these two, I was heading over to see you.”
“Are you all right?” Payton asked. “Perhaps you should be home resting.”
“Look who’s talking,” Helen said to Payton, then turned to Claire. “What happened to you, dear? Was it heat stroke?”
“That’s what they told me. I feel better this morning. I was looking for MaryAnn. I drove to Chaumont.” She spotted MaryAnn on the couch. “Oh there you are. How are you?”
“I think she’s in shock,” Helen said
Claire settled on MaryAnn’s other side. She patted MaryAnn’s hands, folded in her lap. “Why don’t you come with me? We’ll get some food into you. I bet you haven’t slept either. You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday.”
The timer on the front counter pinged. The women started. Payton went to turn off the water. When she returned, Claire was leading MaryAnn to the door. “I loved him,” MaryAnn said. “In spite of everything.”
“I know,” was all of Claire’s reply Payton heard as the door closed.
Helen handed a copy of the Watertown Daily Times to Payton, thumping a forefinger on the large bold headline. “Take a look at this. I’ll make coffee.”
Sackets Harbor Drowning Deaths Suspicious
Payton sat on the nearest available chair to read. Two deaths on Lake Ontario stunned the close-knit Sackets Harbor community yesterday. Sean Adams, owner of The Taste of Gay Paree Café, and Watertown businessman Frank Simpson, president of Watertown Computer Graphics, drowned when they were thrown into the water during the first Sackets Harbor Yacht Club race. The six boat Sackets Harbor team faced off against the three boat Chaumont team just hours before. What caused both men to be tossed into the relatively calm waters at the same time is still under investigation. Payton laid down the paper.
“What a brave thing you did, dear,” Helen said.
“It was insane! I don’t know what got into me.”
“A fellow human being was in danger.”
Payton went to the back room to make coffee. Whe she returned carrying a tray and a bag of chocolate chip cookies, Mamie stood beside Helen. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face white. She had a wad of pink tissues in one hand. “I didn’t sleep all night.” She looked at the floor.
“By the time I got home,” Helen chuckled. “There was hardly any night left.”
“God knows I don’t feel like doing anything, but Miles is on his way with a crew. We have to start moving things today.”
“I forgot it was today,” Payton said. “I assume you came for the key.” Payton drew a key from her purse. It was attached to a red and white fishing bobber. “You may keep this one.”
Mamie took the key and dabbed a tissue on her nose. “Have you seen Claire? I tried calling the house but there was no answer.”
“She was just here. She took MaryAnn home with her.”
“I’m worried about her.”
“So am I.” Payton told how wan Claire had looked yesterday morning. “Something’s been bothering her. I didn’t get a chance to ask what it was. There were people here, and then it was time for the race. Now I’m angry with myself for not making more of an effort.”
“Claire’s very close-mouthed,” Mamie said.
“I’ll check on her later.” Helen took a sip of coffee and said to Mamie, “I know I’m sounding like I’m a cold fish, but since Sean won’t be using the shop, you’re welcome to it. I’m saying it now, before you go to all the trouble of moving into Payton’s house. Heaven knows I feel bad enough about how this all happened in the first place.”
“Thank you, Helen. I should accept and let Payton off the hook, but I just don’t think I could go in that place after what’s happened.”
“I don’t blame you a bit, dear. My offer still holds though.”
“Thank you.” As Mamie left, Payton thought she heard Mamie talking.
Helen nodded. “She’s absolutely right.”
“What did she say?”
“Something about how things would be easier for everyone now.”
“I hate to say this, but she’s right,” Payton said, very softly.
As the morning wore on, tourists flocked into the shop by the dozens. Payton knew they only came to see the lady who’d almost drowned trying to save an already dead man. They inundated her with questions regarding her ordeal, pretending concern that was just morbid curiosity. There was an upside to it all. Sales tripled.
At lunchtime Payton went out to the sidewalk to water the pair of ficus plants. She stood for a long time looking across at the café. She saw movement inside. With the glare on the windows, she couldn’t see who it was. Maybe Helen making sure things were turned off.
Payton flopped on the ugly couch, kicked her feet up on the coffee table, leaned back and closed her eyes. Was she strong enough to get through another police investigation? Sackets Harbor was a small town, but she didn’t fool herself thinking they’d be any less thorough than the Minneapolis authorities. For some time, she’d been under intense scrutiny for Cameron’s death. It was the authority’s job to suspect her. But after a while they’d left her alone in that fabulous penthouse apartment with the spectacular views of the city, the empty rooms and the permanent stain on the kitchen floor. She’d moved into a hotel and put the place up for sale as soon as she’d been allowed. The police went away. Cameron’s death went unsolved. Doctors and family recommended the change of scenery, but it hadn’t been what she needed. The nightmares continued.
Payton’s stomach growled. She called the Galley to place a lunch order, ran up the street and back in less than five minutes. Someone had arrived during her absence. The ugly chair held a familiar face.
Aden looked confused. He stood up and walked toward her, bending to kiss her cheek. “I thought you were in the bathroom. Come sit down.” He took the Styrofoam container and led her to the sofa. “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve brought you something to eat.”
“I thought you were on a plane to Prague. Why aren’t you?”
“I called in sick.”
“Who…to whom does an ambassador call in sick?”
“Bigger ambassadors. How are you?”
“Sore throat, but otherwise fine.” She sat on the couch. He inspected the contents of the container and handed her half the tuna fish sandwich.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back over last night. In order to postpone today’s trip, I had to prepare my colleagues for a meeting today. I spent the night on the phone.”
“I saw the police at your place.”
“Eat.”
“Helen said they asked a lot of questions. She and Carter were at the station till two a.m.” She took a bite of the sandwich.
“What I don’t get is how two men could be washed overboard at the same exact time in fairly calm water.”
“They were good swimmers?”
“People who spend a lot of time on the water are most always good swimmers.” Aden grasped her wrist and eased it up to her mouth. She took another bite of sandwich.
After swallowing, she said, “They didn’t tell you—that Sean and Frank were dead before they went over the rail?”
His lips tightened. “No. They sidestepped my questions.”
“The cop didn’t come right out and say so but what else can it be but murder?” Payton coughed, trying to hide the last word from the pair of women who’d just come in the shop. “Sean wasn’t very nice so it is no stretch to imagine someone wanting him gone,” she whispered. “But who’d want to murder Frank? And how was it done? They were alone on the boat.”
“There ar
e dozens of ways to murder someone without being there. Did you see any blood?”
“I never got on the boat. All I saw was them lying on the deck.”
“Were they near each other?”
“Frank was near the helm. Sean had been working the mainsail.”
“You saw them in the water after that?”
“Just Sean. A wave pushed him into me.” She shivered. “There wasn’t any blood that I remember.”
“Could have washed off. Tell me how he looked.”
“Like he was in pain. Bad pain.”
“Did you see anyone else in the water?”
“There were people all over the place.”
“I mean before you did the dumbest thing of your life.”
“Don’t remind me.” She gave the question careful thought, just as she had when the sergeant asked last night. “I don’t remember seeing anyone else at all.”
Aden was thoughtful, watching the customers browse nearby.
“What are you thinking?” Payton asked when they were out of earshot.
“In my line of work, we sometimes see things like this. Emirs and emissaries drop dead right in the middle of peace talks. It most always turns out to be poison.”
“Poison?” Payton exclaimed. One of the customers turned around. Payton quickly took a bite of sandwich and averted her eyes.
“Some poisons are obscure. This had to be something fast acting, something that would at least incapacitate them over the course of the race.”
“Like what?”
“There are hundreds of chemical compounds which would produce that result.”
TWENTY
After promising to have dinner with Aden, Payton found herself alone in the store. She wandered to the patio, now cast in shadows. Clouds had rolled in off the harbor and the sky was a deep charcoal black. She sat at the wicker patio set, of which she’d already sold two, and leaned her head back on the poufy cushion.
Who’d want to kill Frank? He was married with four kids, a football coach and a 4H leader. He didn’t live in Sackets Harbor, nor did he have friends in common with Sean, that she knew of. The answer was simple. The murderer had inadvertently got him.
