by Tessa Kelly
Henry rubbed his face, eyes shadowy. Reaching in his pocket, he took out a set of car keys and began to fidget with them absentmindedly. “Suppose...” he said slowly, “for a moment that you’re right. Isn’t it also possible that this was all just an innocent prank gone terribly wrong?”
I shook my head. “If the boat hadn’t been unmoored, maybe. The way things are, I don’t believe it was innocent at all. I think...” I had to stop and take a deep breath before finishing the sentence. “It was murder.”
Chapter 8
The car keys made a soft thump in the grass as they fell from Henry’s hand. Bending, he picked them up, then opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and took Geraldine’s hand. She squeezed it tightly, her face surprisingly calm and determined. Henry studied her for a moment and put his other hand on top of hers. Not a word passed between them, but the meaning was clear enough. No matter what happened, they’d be okay. Together.
I looked at my feet, suddenly feeling like an intruder and missing Liam more than ever.
Geraldine turned to me. “Do you think someone among our guests did this, tried to kill Timothy? Remember, we’ve known some of these people most of our lives. They’re family. And dear friends.”
I was suddenly reminded of the court swearing-in procedure, a thing I’d always thought of it as a means to help the prosecution. For the first time, I wondered if it was really meant to strengthen the witness, solidify their resolve to stand by the truth. Because, at certain moments, saying what you knew people wanted to hear was infinitely more tempting.
“The way it looks right now,” I said, “there was one guest who had more motive and opportunity than anyone else. Eric was the one who tied those mooring lines the night before. During the outing, I saw him go down below deck, while everyone else was topside. He was down there, alone, for at least a quarter of an hour—plenty of time to get the screwdriver and tamper with the lock. And...because of his wife, he had a strong motive to want Timothy dead.”
The other two looked embarrassed, knowing full well what I meant, but before either of them could say anything, we were approached by John and his sister.
“We were watching you three from the hotel,” John said. He was smiling, but the expression in his eyes made me stiffen with apprehension. “You looked like three conspirators on a secret mission, so we decided to come over and join the club. You do allow new members, I hope?”
Geraldine nudged me gently with the elbow. “Tell them, Sandie. They have a right to know.”
I had no choice. Wincing internally in anticipation of John’s reaction, I told him and Jennifer about my suspicions.
As I expected, John’s expression darkened. The muscles in his jaw contracted, putting me on the alert for the impending fight, but it was Jennifer who spoke first.
“How dare you?” She stood with her legs apart, hands on her hips. Her dark eyes appeared ready to burn me.
I blinked, shocked. “Excuse me?”
“Who gave you permission to go on that boat and nose around?” she hissed. “You were told that this was a matter for the police. What do you need, flashcards?”
Wow. Too far, Jennifer.
I took a step forward, my temper rising. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Henry, hastily disengaging his hand from Geraldine’s, placed himself between the two of us. “Ladies, calm down, please. The last thing we need is to have you two fighting. Now, Sandie, Eric Harding is my childhood friend. Or, so I’m told in any case. I don’t like the thought of him being guilty of murder.”
I sighed but kept my voice gentle. “You just admitted you don’t even remember Eric. So, how much do you really know about him? And, isn’t it possible he might’ve changed?”
Eyebrows in a tight line, Henry looked at the ground. He sighed, then nodded to himself as if coming to a decision. “That doesn’t matter. Even if I can’t quite remember, I’m disposed to think well of the man, until there’s actual proof that he’s done something wrong.”
“Henry,” I started, but John interrupted me,
“Enough, Sandra. I’ve already asked you to leave this matter to the authorities, and the authorities ruled it an accident. This case is closed. Period. Let it stay that way.”
Jennifer nodded her approval. “My brother’s right. You need to back off and mind your own business. Stop trying to ruin our uncle’s wedding.”
I took a deep breath, doing my best to keep my temper down for Henry and Geraldine’s sake. “I can’t do that. Not when the sheriff is letting a killer get away.”
Jennifer’s nostrils flared. Dear God, if looks could kill!
Moving Henry out of the way, she came toward me, leaving only a sliver of space between us. Her face filled my entire field of vision, unblinking eyes never leaving mine. It took all I had not to retreat from this drastic invasion of personal space.
“I’ve heard all about you,” she hissed. “Henry and Geraldine are always going on and on: Sandie this, Sandie that. You’re the bee’s knees where they’re concerned. Saint Sandie could do no wrong. Yeah! I see through you. You’re nothing but a nosey little attention-grabber. You got lucky the other times, that’s all. And now you want to be praised and carried around on everyone’s shoulders. Well, you’re not getting your fifteen minutes at the expense of my family!” She practically spat the last words in my face.
I stood my ground, though I couldn’t stop my knees from shaking. The strange look Jennifer had given me on our first meeting suddenly made sense. My heart sank. How could anyone in the Edwards family hate me so much?
And what about the rest of them? Would I lose Geraldine and Henry’s friendship if I kept insisting on what I knew in my gut was the truth? It was an effort not to burst into tears. Thankfully, I was able to keep my voice from trembling as I spoke,
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Jennifer, but it’s plain to me that Timothy’s disappearance wasn’t an accident. I can’t just ignore this fact. I won’t.” I turned to Geraldine. “I know you don’t believe me, but—”
Geraldine put her hand up to silence me. She came over and stood by my side, tall and calm and full of dignity as she stared Jennifer down. The other seemed to grow smaller under her gaze.
“Obviously, I’m the last person to want anything to spoil this wedding,” she said. “But I also can’t let a killer go free. You all know that I trust Sandie’s instincts. If she thinks there’s been a murder, we should at least take it seriously. And if she’s right, we’ll do our best to see to it that justice is done.”
Henry’s forehead puckered in uncertainty. “Geraldine, are you sure about this?”
“I am.” She turned to me with an expression that permitted no disagreements. “Also, my dear, since it’s my wedding that’s being ruined, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say the sooner we get this wrapped up, the better. In other words, you’ll need helpers, and that’s not negotiable. I insist that you let me in on your investigation.”
Chapter 9
Geraldine taking my side lifted my spirits considerably. So much so that I even managed a smile.
“Thank you. I really appreciate this. As well as your offer of help.”
Jennifer threw up her hands, looking scandalized. “I can’t believe you’re backing her up, Geraldine! You can’t be serious. Henry, do something! Talk some sense into your fiancé.”
Henry gazed at his niece with a peculiar expression. Then he walked over to Geraldine’s side and put his arm around her.
“I don’t think so, Jennifer. You see, I have a promise to uphold. Geraldine stood by me when I had nothing and no one. We haven’t officially said our vows yet, but I think it’s all the same. In my mind, we’re already married. That means we must support each other’s decisions. If Geraldine is with Sandie on this matter, then I am too.”
Jennifer’s eyes popped. In her fury, her face broke out in big, red splotches. “I just...I don’t believe this. You’ve all taken leave of your senses!”
&nb
sp; She spun on her heels and marched to the hotel, looking like she’d knock down anyone who didn’t leap out of her way quickly enough.
“John,” Henry said quietly.
The other nodded, though he was still frowning. “I know, I know. I’ll talk to her.” Hands in his pockets, he headed after his sister.
“Well. That’s settled, then.” Geraldine gave Henry an amused smile, as if all the family drama was entertaining to her. Then she turned to me. “What do we do now?”
I thought about it. “I think I should go and speak to the sheriff, try to make him see he was wrong to call this an accident. Can I borrow your car to drive to the precinct?”
“Of course. But don’t you want Henry and me to come with you?”
“No. It’s better if you stay at the hotel and keep an eye on things. If any of the guests starts acting strange, make a note of it. Talk to them about the accident, but casually. Not like you’re trying to pump them for information. We don’t want the murderer to get too alarmed.”
Geraldine nodded. “Absolutely. You can count on us to be discreet, dear. Now, let’s go up to my room. My car keys are in my purse.”
She hooked her arm through the crook of my elbow and led me to the hotel, Henry striding next to us.
John and his sister were having a heated discussion in the lobby, but they grew quiet when we entered. Jennifer’s eyes, still set to kill, were riveted to my face. John looked away as we went past, his expression conflicted.
Up in her room, Geraldine took the car keys from her purse and handed them to me. “Good luck, dear, and call me if you need anything. We’ll be waiting.”
Before setting out, I stopped by my room to get my bag and use the Google maps on my phone to find the sheriff’s office. It was all the way across the island, but the drive would take me less than thirty minutes. I took a screenshot of the directions, in case the island had dead zones. Getting lost on the way was the last thing I needed. Then I walked to the far end of the hallway toward the service stairs. Leaving the hotel in sight of Jennifer and the others was another thing I didn’t need. As I passed by the staff bathroom, its door swung open and Ashley appeared, holding a wrench. I gave a start.
“Oh, hey, Sandie!” She grinned, though she looked tired. Her blond hair hidden under a red bandanna, and she wore a pink, shirtsleeve tee under dark-gray overalls. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and leaned against the door frame.
“Busy morning?” I asked.
“Very. Someone clogged the toilet in here last night. Been fixing it for hours. You on your way to see Marlowe?”
“Uh, not right now,” I stammered, suddenly feeling guilty. Ashley was going to think me a bad dog owner. “Actually, I have to drive into town. Helping out with the wedding stuff. But my sister was going to take Marlowe for a walk later.” I made a mental note to text Kathy and ask her to do that.
“Well, whatever you’ve got planned today, I’m sure it’ll be more fun than that mess in there.” Ashley laughed and nodded at the bathroom. “I better get back to it.”
She slipped behind the door, and I hurried on down the stairs.
The drive to the sheriff’s station took me through the center of the island, along some marshlands and grass fields, green and undulating and not yet golden.
Twenty-five minutes later, as Google predicted, I pulled up in front of the sheriff’s station, a squat one-story building with a red roof and a sturdy front door. Leaving the car at the curb, I went in and asked to see to the sheriff.
The deputy, a wiry guy with a narrow jaw and a swarthy complexion, leaned back from staring at his computer screen. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, showing lots of dark, curly chest hair. He scratched it slowly with his fingernail as he looked me up and down. Then he pushed his chair away from the desk and got up. Without a word, he strolled into the back room, turning to give me another once-over.
He returned a moment later with a smirk on his face. “Go on right in, ma’am.”
The sheriff’s office was a small room with three filing cabinets, an old desk, and two folding chairs in front of it. The walls and every available surface were taken up by memorabilia. Baseball trophies, awards, photos of fishing trips, hunting trips, camping trips, and countless pictures of what I assumed was a sizable extended family.
The sheriff sat at his desk with a fishing box open in front of him and had been in the process of arranging its contents when I came in. On the wall behind him, two fishing poles hung criss-cross like a coat of arms.
He rose to his feet and extended his hand over the fishing box with a polite smile. Up close, he was even shorter than I realized, no taller than five-four, and his face was smooth and looked like it needed shaving every other week. He had dark-blond hair and light eyes.
“Sheriff Watkins,” he said. “Please, sit down. What can I do for you?”
I sat on the edge of the folding chair and told him my name and where I was staying.
The mention of Sand Read wiped the smile off his face. His eyes didn’t quite narrow, but it seemed to take him effort to keep them from going that way. He leaned back in his chair with a look of studied indifference.
“All right, Miss James. What is it you came here about?”
I crossed one leg over the other and carefully smoothed out the folds of my skirt. This gave me a moment to compose my thoughts, while I wondered about the reason for the man’s sudden change of attitude.
“I came to talk about what happened at the hotel last night,” I said. “The thing is, I sincerely think you should reconsider calling it an accident.”
His eyes did narrow this time. “Oh, yes? And why’s that?”
I relayed to him what I found on the boat and my suspicions about what it all meant.
Watkins listened without interrupting. When I finished, he sat for a moment looking at a framed picture on his desk. It was a photo of two men in fishermen’s gear, standing against the backdrop of a blue-gray expanse of the ocean and holding a huge Marlon between them like a trophy as they grinned into the camera. One of the men was the sheriff. The other, much taller, had graying hair and looked familiar.
The sheriff’s eyes lingered on the photo with a look that said he’d rather be out there with his fishing buddies, instead of enduring strange women talking nonsense in his office. His smile when he finally looked my way again tried to convey the same message. But the tense shoulders and the tightly clasped hands in his lap told a different story.
“What you’re saying is certainly interesting, Miss James. I visited the sailboat myself this morning, as you know. Inspected it thoroughly. The broken door didn’t escape my notice of course, but I wouldn’t made much of it. What you’re saying, it’s all circumstantial evidence. Conjectures, nothing more. I’m sure you’re aware of this, if your brother is a detective, as you say.” He put a big emphasis on the “if”.
That needled me, but I kept my voice even. “You can call my brother’s precinct and verify for yourself, if you like. But the main thing is the evidence, isn’t it? Even if it’s circumstantial, don’t you think you should still look into it?”
His eyes grew hard. He straightened in his seat, adding an extra inch to his height. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?”
Before I could answer, his phone rang. Watkins picked up and sat listening for several minutes, occasionally saying “I see” and “Uh, huh” and throwing me looks that made me think I was the object of this one-sided conversation.
Finally, he hung up. His shoulders relaxed, and the deep furrow between his eyebrows smoothed out. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his hands in his lap and gazed at me with a self-satisfied smile.
“That was another member of your wedding party. Said her name was Jennifer Edwards. She called from Sand Reed to say you’d be coming to see me about this matter of the boat accident. She warned me to be on guard. Says you fancy yourself an amateur detective and like to spout theories about murders and such. What do
you say to that?”
My mouth opened and closed. I stared at Watkins in defeat, both of us knowing I’d just been thoroughly discredited. There was no point in trying to protest. He was no longer required to listen to me or take my words seriously.
Checkmate, Miss James.
Woodenly, I rose to my feet. “Thank you for your time, Sheriff Watkins.”
I turned, hoping to escape with at least some of my dignity. Of course, my bag had to get caught on the back of the chair, overturning it with a bang. As I bent to right the stupid thing, the sheriff waved his hand at it.
“Don’t worry about that.” He had the air of an indulgent parent letting a difficult child off the hook. “Just run along now, it’s not a problem.”
I couldn’t help it. I gave him one of those fake, eyes-stay-frozen smiles. Sure, we both knew the chair wasn’t the problem, but for some reason, of the two of us, I was the only one trying to do something about it.
The deputy in the front office stopped in the middle of pouring coffee into a chipped mug and raised his eyebrows as I blew past him. Once outside, I threw open the car door and tossed my bag onto the passenger seat.
I aimed the Chrysler towards Sand Reed, going as fast as the speed limit permitted. Furious as I was, I didn’t need to give my adversaries a reason to discredit me even further with a speeding ticket. My thoughts, like buzzing flies, turned around Jennifer.
It had been clear from our confrontation earlier she wasn’t going to give up easily. But it never occurred to me that she would go behind Geraldine and Henry’s backs, once they decided to help me. Was it just the fear of a ruined wedding that drove her, or something more sinister? The questions needled my brain as I sped across the island, barely paying attention to the empty road.
