Last Day

by Rice, Luanne

  “The day we left?” Nick asked.

  “Yes, darling. You didn’t notice I was gone?” she asked with a teasing tsk, tsk.

  “Guess it was when I was out for my run?”

  “Yes,” she said. Then, to Reid with an edge to her voice, “He runs every day. It’s how he keeps his boyish figure.”

  “So, you helped her plant. What did she want to talk to you about?” Reid asked.

  “She was upset about Nicola. Pete was on the phone with her.”

  “That morning?”

  “Yes. He always tried to hide it from Beth, but she could hear him talking in the study. Just so thoughtless—cruel, really. Beth pregnant and him about to leave, and he spends what should have been time together with his wife on the phone with his mistress instead.”

  “Did they fight?”

  “I don’t know about that day,” Scotty said, “but I assume so. Beth wasn’t happy, that’s for sure.”

  “What happened after you gardened?”

  “She got tired and wanted to go inside. And, I suppose, have it out with Pete. I hurried home to see Nick off. And I was there when Pete and Lee showed up an hour later—to pick Nick up.”

  “But you went back to Beth’s? I heard about you finding the UPS note.”

  “I did,” Scotty said. “Around eleven, I brought blueberry muffins to cheer her up. Beth had been so down, about Pete’s affair, and even the baby . . .”

  “Tyler?” Reid asked.

  “No, Matthew. She felt so sad because of the situation with his father.”

  “Because she was planning to leave Pete?” Reid asked.

  Scotty nodded. “Her family was destroyed. He opened the door to real hell when he started seeing Nicola.”

  Reid nodded. “I’d like to go back to a question I raised a few minutes ago. When I asked if Pete was ever violent toward Beth, I felt you wanting to say something. Can you tell me?”

  Scotty thinned her lips tighter this time. She looked away, and for a moment Reid thought she was going to change the subject again, to avoid answering. Instead she sighed and stared him straight in the eye.

  “One time she had bruises on her upper arms,” she said, “as if someone had shaken her. Another time she met me for coffee, and she was wearing makeup—and that just wasn’t Beth. She’d use lipstick, eyeliner if she was going out at night, but she was one of those old-school New England fresh-faced women who’d probably never even touched foundation before that day. I asked her what she was trying to cover up.” Scotty lowered her eyes and stayed silent for a few seconds.

  “And what did she say?” Reid asked.

  “Her exact words were, ‘Some things just have to stay a mystery,’” Scotty said, her voice husky. She wiped tears from her cheeks. “She couldn’t even bring herself to tell me. She protected him, kept it to herself. But I knew he’d hit her.”

  “You never told me that,” Nick said.

  “Girl talk, sweetheart,” Scotty said. “We keep each other’s secrets.” She took the red-and-white checkered napkin off the picnic basket and pulled out a bottle of white wine.

  “Isn’t it a little early?” Nick asked.

  “The sun’s over the yardarm somewhere,” Scotty said. “My best friend was murdered. I think I can be forgiven for having a libation. Detective Reid?” She held out a glass toward him.

  “That’s okay,” he said.

  “Hey, Detective,” Nick said. “Lee’s the one you should really talk to. He’s probably closer to Pete than anyone.”

  “He’s on my list,” Reid said. In fact, he was meeting him next.

  “He’s a real nice guy,” Nick said. “He builds these amazing musical instruments.”

  Reid nodded. He knew that from the initial background he and Miano had done on the sailing companions.

  “Works of art,” Scotty said, taking a big drink of wine. Nick glared at her.

  “He might have been the last one, besides Pete, to see Beth alive,” Scotty said.

  “When?”

  “The day we left to go sailing,” Nick said. “Lee picked him up. Then they came to our house to get me. Pete gave Beth a call from our kitchen, right, Scotty?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, having more wine.

  “We were right there. We heard him talking to her. I don’t like the guy, but that’s why I know he couldn’t have done it,” Nick said. “He was with us. He talked to Beth right there in our house, while we were all standing around. I heard him say he loved her. Then we drove to the boat, and he was never out of our sight after that.”

  “Never, not once?”

  “No. And once we sailed away, we never hit the mainland. Out to Nantucket, that was always our plan. He couldn’t have gotten back here, killed Beth, and snuck onto the boat without us knowing.”

  There were flights off the islands and back again, Reid thought. It could be done. Or maybe the friends were protecting him, the way Beth had for so long. But the steam was going out of his theory: unless everyone was lying, Pete had not had the chance to be alone with Beth after Leland had picked him up.

  “Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to hurt Beth?” he asked.

  “No,” Nick said. “She was a sweetheart. Everyone who knew her loved her.”

  “A stranger,” Scotty said, her voice thick. “Someone who broke in. It had to be. No one we know would do something like that.” She paused. “And in that way.”

  “In what way?” Reid asked. Had news about the sexual element leaked out? Had Kate told her?

  Scotty turned pale and started to cry. “Just so heartless. She was pregnant! Oh God, Matthew!”

  Nick put his arm around her shoulder.

  “Are you searching for him?” Scotty asked, sobbing. “I mean, God forbid he does it again.”

  “We are investigating every lead,” Reid said and thanked them for their time.

  As he drove away, he thought about the Waterstons. They seemed like a long-married couple, comfortable with each other. Scotty seemed very maternal and kind, obviously devastated over Beth’s murder. Was something else driving her emotions? Reid’s instinct told him there was some kind of trouble in paradise. Scotty had made that crack about trust between couples and Nick running every day; did he have something to hide? Was that why Scotty drank wine so early?

  You never knew what went on behind a family’s closed doors. Even in pretty, affluent, seemingly picture-perfect Black Hall, people could be hiding ugly truths. Heading toward a local restaurant to meet the next witness, he mulled over what Scotty had said: “We keep each other’s secrets.”

  Reid wondered what other secrets of Beth’s she was keeping.

  13

  While he drove to meet Leland Ackerley, Reid considered the issue that had been bothering him since seeing Tom yesterday: that he had an ax to grind with Pete Lathrop. Tom had been right to question his objectivity. Caring about the sisters, keeping an eye on them, had given him too much information about Pete and the way he had treated Beth.

  Now, considering the way the time line was shaping up, and Pete having had no obvious opportunity, Reid had to rethink his theory. He wasn’t supposed to be emotionally involved in his cases, but he couldn’t help the fact he had a pit in his stomach: if not Pete, who? He really needed to hear from the forensic examiner and find out whether Beth had been raped. Maybe there really was a stranger.

  Still, he had to rule Pete out. Of all the crew, he was most interested in interviewing Leland Ackerley. The other guys were casual acquaintances of Pete’s, but according to Miano, who had taken an initial statement from Ackerley on the dock in Menemsha, he had known Pete the longest and had actually attended school with him.

  Reid had arranged to meet him at the Bee & Thistle, a Black Hall restaurant halfway between New York and Boston. Ackerley was traveling from his studio in Tribeca to Boston to meet with someone at the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Arriving ten minutes early, Reid parked in the curved driveway in the shade of a massive
oak tree and then googled Ackerley’s name.

  Leland Ackerley owned a small company that built high-end stringed instruments, which, as Scotty Waterston had just said, were works of art themselves. His work was so sought after there was a seven-year waiting list. He had supplied acoustic guitars to James Taylor and Mary Chapin Carpenter, mandolins to top bluegrass artists, a cello to Yo-Yo Ma, and a violin for a soloist with the London Philharmonic, among others. He played guitar and occasionally sat in with the clients whose instruments he built.

  It was clear that Ackerley was a top businessman as well as a talented musician. After reading some articles, Reid formed the opinion that he was serious and accomplished, two things Pete Lathrop was not.

  Ackerley arrived right on time. Reid watched him park a vintage black Jaguar E-type and get out. He was tall with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore black Ray-Ban sunglasses that he removed as he entered the restaurant. Reid followed him in.

  “Thanks for coming,” Reid said, meeting up with him in the bar area. They shook hands and sat at a table next to the window.

  “Well, I want to help, any way I can,” Ackerley said. “Beth was a good friend.”

  “You knew her a long time?”

  “Through Pete, yes. I was in their wedding.”

  The waitress came over, and both men ordered iced tea.

  “You went to high school with him?” Reid asked.

  “Boarding school in Rhode Island. Saint George’s.”

  “You’ve stayed close all this time?”

  Ackerley paused. “Yes,” he said.

  But to Reid, he didn’t sound convincing. Reid waited.

  “I wouldn’t say close,” Ackerley said. “We’re very different. But for the most part we’ve stayed in touch since then.”

  “I’ve heard that you’re the reason Pete was invited along on the sailing trip.”

  “Well, that’s true.” Ackerley stared out the window for a second. “It sounds terrible to say, but I feel sorry for him. Or I did . . . till recently.”

  “Why?”

  “Back in school, he wanted so badly to fit in. He tried really hard, and the harder he tried, the more certain guys smelled blood in the water. They’d mention lower school at Collegiate when they knew Pete was ashamed of going to parish school in Providence. Someone would mention an upcoming vacation skiing in Chile or sailing in Antigua, knowing Pete was going to spend his washing floors at a gym.”

  “You were one of those guys, mean to him?”

  Ackerley shook his head. “I liked the way Pete hung in there. He didn’t quit. Some people bet he wouldn’t come back after the first Thanksgiving break, but there he was. I respected him for that. He tries really hard at whatever he does. My family invited him sailing with us one winter vacation, and everyone liked him. He turned out to be a great sailor.”

  “And you’ve kept it up all these years?”

  “Yes,” Ackerley said. “A bunch of us get together to go out every summer, and I make sure he’s invited.”

  “This year’s trip—you picked him up at his house?”

  Ackerley nodded. “I left the city early, drove straight to his house, and we went on from there.”

  “And you saw Beth?”

  Ackerley frowned, staring down at the table. The waitress delivered their iced teas. He took a long gulp and swirled the ice in the glass for a few seconds before looking at Reid.

  “No, I didn’t see her.”

  “Okay.”

  “But she called goodbye from upstairs,” Ackerley said.

  “Did Pete go up after that?” Reid asked. Now he wondered how long it would take for Pete to smash Beth’s head in, strangle her with her panties. Could he have cut Moonlight from its frame then too? How long before Ackerley would get impatient? And wouldn’t he hear sounds of a struggle? It seemed like a stretch.

  “No, he did not go up after that,” Ackerley said. “He said he had already kissed her goodbye. He was ready to get on the road.”

  “Got it. Was he ever out of your sight? Even for a few minutes?”

  “Not once.”

  “Let’s go back to Beth calling down from upstairs,” Reid said. “What did she say?”

  Ackerley looked out the window again, then finished his iced tea. The waitress returned with a refill. Reid hadn’t touched his. He sat there staring at Ackerley, who seemed involved in some sort of internal debate. Reid waited for him to speak.

  “I wouldn’t lie for him,” Ackerley said.

  That got Reid’s adrenaline going. He watched Ackerley fidget with his spoon. “Did he ask you to?”

  “Look, as I sit here right now, I believe I heard her voice. But . . . I didn’t remember that right away. After we knew she died, I mean. We were rushing out of the house, like I said; Pete was so anxious to get going. And—I never would have thought it would be the last time. I wouldn’t have necessarily registered it.”

  “Okay,” Reid said, nodding. “That makes sense. You were in a hurry.”

  “Yeah, we were.”

  “So,” Reid said, keeping his voice steady. “If you didn’t remember or register hearing Beth right away, how did that change?”

  “Pete keeps reminding me she called down the stairs.”

  “Reminding you,” Reid said, and now his heart was beating out of his chest. “So it might not have happened? He’s coaching you to alter your recollection?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Why didn’t she come downstairs, by the way?”

  “Beth was in bed. She had edema in her legs.”

  “Complications from the pregnancy,” Reid said.

  “Exactly. So it makes total sense she wouldn’t come down to see us off. Pete said she wanted to get outside, back into the garden. She had been out earlier and gotten overheated. The day was so hot and muggy.”

  That jibed with what Scotty had said.

  “So Pete talked her out of it—he was afraid she’d get heatstroke. And that’s why she stayed in bed, didn’t come downstairs to see us off. But she did call down.”

  “And what did she say?” Reid repeated.

  “‘Have a great trip, Lee! Love you, Pete!’” Ackerley said.

  “Did you hear that or not?” Reid asked.

  “Pretty sure,” Ackerley said.

  “Okay,” Reid said. “What about on the boat?”

  “He was worried about her. We all understood—it didn’t seem strange or out of character. He’s a caring guy. He had messed up his marriage, and he was trying to put it back together.”

  “What about his clothes?” Reid asked.

  “His clothes?”

  “What was he wearing on board?”

  Ackerley gazed outside, into the branches of the big oak tree as if trying to remember. “I didn’t really notice.”

  “Long sleeves, short sleeves?”

  “I have no idea,” Ackerley said. Then, “Wait, hang on.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began scrolling through.

  “What have you got there?” Reid asked.

  “I know, the other detective said you wanted our photos, but I didn’t have any of Pete then. Someone texted this to me late last night—a guy we ran into on Nantucket. His band was going to be playing at the Chicken Box. I made his guitar, and he wanted us to come by for a set, but we were taking off. He wanted a shot of me playing the guitar.”

  Ackerley handed Reid the phone, and Reid examined the photo. The men were lined up on the ferry’s deck, with Leland Ackerley holding the guitar, everyone smiling. The sun was bright, glinting off the water. Everyone but Pete was in T-shirts. Pete wore that same long-sleeved sun protection shirt he had had on when Reid had met him at Menemsha.

  “Looks like Pete was cold,” Reid said carefully.

  “Well, there was a breeze—it can get chilly, especially if you’ve had too much sun.”

  “I wonder why he was the only one,” Reid said.

  “I don’t know,” Ackerley said.
r />   “Did you notice scratches on his arms? The backs of his hands? At any time did he go swimming—did you see him with his shirt off? Scratches on his neck?”

  “No,” Ackerley said. “Not at all.” He paused. “Look, I know what you’re getting at. I didn’t see any scratches. He’s innocent. Why aren’t you looking for the person who stole that painting? The moon one? That’s who you should be after.”

  “We’re following all leads,” Reid said.

  “I mean, don’t you know what happened to Beth when she was young? All for that painting?”

  “Yes,” Reid said. “We’re aware.” He paused for a few seconds. “Did you know he and Beth were having problems?”

  “Of course,” Ackerley said. “Pete told me.”

  “At the beginning, when I asked if you were close, you said you felt sorry for him. And you added until recently. What happened recently?”

  “Maybe I didn’t put it right,” Ackerley said. “In fact, maybe I should have started feeling even sorrier for him. He screwed things up with Beth.”

  Reid waited for him to go on.

  “Nicola, the affair. Then having a kid with her. Jesus.”

  “So, you’re saying it was hard on Pete?”

  “Of course. He fell in love. He’s a middle-aged idiot who fell for a grad student. And he ruined his marriage.” Ackerley shook his head. “He couldn’t get out of his own way, just kept compounding his mistakes.”

  Reid wanted him to say more about the mistakes, but Ackerley pushed back his chair and stood up. He pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on, signaling that the interview was over.

  “I have to get going,” he said. “Good luck finding who did it.”

  Reid paid the bill and walked outside, caught up with Ackerley as he was unlocking the Jag.

  “Listen,” Ackerley said. “Pete felt really bad about hurting Beth and Sam, wrecking the marriage, but it wasn’t all his fault.”

  “In what way?” Reid asked.

  “I loved Beth. But she never gave Pete any credit. He might not have grown up in the art world, but he caught on right away. He’s a member of Mensa, you know?”

  “I’ve heard,” Reid said, trying not to roll his eyes.

  “Well, he could have run that gallery like a real business instead of, to be honest, a family hobby. That’s all it was to Beth. A way of showcasing her family’s collection. She was all about coddling artists, not making money. Not turning a profit.”