by B. T. Lord
“How did you retrieve your truck?” Splash gave him a quizzical look. “If you drove Munson’s car here, you must have left your truck behind. How did you get it back?”
“I walked over this morning. That’s what I was doing when you came by looking for me.”
“How far a walk is it?”
“About 30 minutes or so.” He paused. “Deputy, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with Mrs. Munson’s death. I was upset she fired me, but I would never hurt her. I –” He abruptly stopped speaking. Ellis looked up and caught the blush rising on Splash’s neck. He glanced into the kitchen and saw Molly’s face harden. It told him everything. He closed the notebook and stood up. “Don’t leave the island. In the meantime, if there’s anything else you think may be relevant to this investigation, don’t hesitate to contact me. Your wife has my number.”
He started to turn away when he abruptly turned back. “Would you mind pulling up your sleeves?” he suddenly asked. Splash stared at him in bewilderment. “Just do as I ask.”
The man slowly pulled up his right sleeve. Ellis took his arm and moved it back and forth. There was nothing on it. “Now the other.” The left sleeve slowly came up. Ellis again took it and turned it over. A long red angry-looking gash greeted him. “What happened?” he asked somberly.
“I got it last night when I was working on my boat. I accidentally cut myself on a piece of loose metal.”
Ellis let go of Splash’s arm. “Please show me the metal.”
“I can’t. I tossed it into the marsh.” He shrugged. “It was the icing on a lousy day. I lost my temper and pitched it into the water.”
Ellis’ eyes bored into Splash’s. “You didn’t find the coupe, did you Splash? You knew how much the car meant to Andrew. You wanted to stick it to Violet through her son. So you took the car and hid it beneath the tarp where you figured no one would find it.” Splash averted his eyes, unwilling to respond. “As I said, don’t leave the island,” he said shortly. Then he turned and left.
He stood on the porch and looked out over the marsh that surrounded the home. Was Splash telling the truth? Was the metal he’d supposedly cut himself on out there somewhere? Was it simple coincidence that he sustained a gash on his arm the same night Violet Munson hurled a lamp at someone?
His gut told him his last statement regarding the coupe was correct. Angry at his firing, Splash retaliated by taking the car and hiding it behind his barn. As caretaker, he would have had access to house and vehicle keys. Yet, what did he expect to do once the car was noticed missing? Had he not thought that far ahead?
Did it point to a man who reacted thoughtlessly in the heat of the moment?
As Ellis headed towards his car, his thoughts unexpectedly went to Molly. To her life spent on a tiny piece of land surrounded by the tides. To the countless nights she’d spent visiting faraway lands through the pages of books, because she couldn’t afford to go there in person. To confronting the one fear each human being would ultimate have to confront – their own mortality.
And of loving a man who was in love with someone else.
It’s a fine line between love and hate. Did Splash cross that line when his love was cruelly thrown back in his face?
Doc managed to wash the mud and grit from Emmy’s face and hair after removing her wet clothing. After getting her into a hospital gown, he and Rick laid her down in one of his bedrooms. A few minutes later, she regained consciousness.
“Do you remember what happened?” Rick asked.
She stared up at him in confusion. Then, the memory of the car crashed into her consciousness.
“My mother--!” She exclaimed as she tried to sit up. Doc immediately put his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down onto the bed.
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t know anything.”
“Augie?” she asked.
“He’s right here.” Rick opened his coat and she saw the little dog curled up against his chest. At the sight of his human, Augie jumped down on the bed and cuddled up against her. “He led me to you. The fog was so thick I had to depend on his barking to let me know where you were.”
“How did you know I was hurt?”
Rick opened his mouth, then quickly closed it. He honestly didn’t know. He never believed he had any of Gran’s other worldly powers, but now that he thought about it, they did share the same blood. Maybe he had inherited a bit of her ‘woo-woo’ abilities.
“I just had a feeling something wasn’t right,” he finally said. Doc eyed him quietly. He shrugged.
“Gosh, I feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck,” Emmy grimaced as she shifted her weight.
“Were you?” Rick asked, anger flashing through his dark eyes.
“Oh no. Nothing like that. I think it was a car. I guess they didn’t see me in the fog.”
“So you believe it was an accident?” Doc asked. Rick had filled him in on the discovery of the threatening note. Like the deputy, he doubted what happened to her was a coincidence.
Emmy thought back. She remembered Augie’s frantic barking. She recalled the headlights aimed right for her. Her eyes widened as she looked at Doc. “Actually, no. I don’t think it was an accident. I think whoever it was tried to deliberately run me over.” She told them what happened. “If it wasn’t for Augie, I probably wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. He saved my life. Again.”
Augustus, nicknamed Augie, had come into Emmy’s life when he’d saved her from a killer who’d threatened to take her as a hostage to escape Cammie and Rick. In honor of the little dog’s bravery, the sheriff made him the Twin Ponds Sheriff’s Department mascot and allowed him to have his own little bed beneath Emmy’s desk.
“Did you see what kind of vehicle it was?” Rick questioned.
She shook her head. “It was too foggy. All I saw were headlights coming straight for me. I tried to get over the ditch, but whoever it was managed to sideswipe me enough to send me sprawling to the ground where I must have hit my head.”
“You thankfully have no broken bones, but you’re covered in bruises. Your thighs took the worst of the fall. I put ice packs on your legs. I know they’re uncomfortable, but they’ll help with the muscle swelling,” Doc explained. “Are you dizzy?” She shook her head. “Nauseous?” Once again, she shook her head. “Is your vision blurry?”
“No.”
“Do you have any ringing in your eyes?”
“Nope.”
“Although you don’t have signs of a concussion, you’ll need to be watched for the next twenty-four hours. I can’t give you any painkillers for the bruising until then. The best I can prescribe is Tylenol.” He stood up. “I don’t have anything on my schedule, so I can sit with you during the day. Is there someone you can call who can come over tonight?”
“I can’t stay here. If my mother finds out what happened –"
Doc understood. He’d already dealt with Mrs. Madachuck’s suffocating overprotectiveness. If she discovered her only daughter was hurt once again, she’d hound Emmy until the young woman quit her job. “I’m not a proponent of lying to one’s parent, but in this case, I’ll gladly make an exception.”
“Don’t you have any girlfriends you can pretend you’re spending the night with?” Rick suggested.
“Well, there is JoAnn. She’s part of my knitting group. I could ask her to cover for me.”
“Perfect. Doc will sit with you during the day. I’ll take over the night shift. Will that work, Doc?”
Doc looked from one to the other. “Yes, it does.”
“Cool.” Rick stood up. “I’d better get to HQ. If anything comes up, or if you remember anything else, you call me ASAP. Okay?”
Emmy nodded. Rick let himself out of the room. Doc watched him go, then turned back to her. “He’s turning into quite a good sheriff. Just don’t tell Cammie I said that.”
The young woman smiled. “I won’t.”
Cammie sat quietly in the library, her eyes glued to the computer. With Ell
is off conducting his interviews, Andrew still sedated and Jace working with his uncle, she took advantage of the quiet to follow up on something Ellis had told her that day they were on his boat. She hadn’t thought about the story he’d shared about how he came to be deputy on the Coffins until she saw him again that day.
There was a rash of disappearances dating from the late 50’s to 1970. They were mainly teenagers of both sexes who vanished from the three main islands. Many chose to believe they left for the mainland in search of a better life. But there were others who thought otherwise.
The clock chimed five o’clock, bringing Cammie out of her deep concentration. She was shocked to see she’d been engrossed in her search for over three hours. She was about to shut the computer when she heard voices coming from the foyer. A few moments later, Jace and Glenn appeared. They were both covered in car oil and grease.
“Have you seen Maud?” Glenn asked. “She usually calls us in for supper by now, but she’s not in the kitchen.”
“She might be checking up on Andrew. I’ll go check.”
The older man shook his head. “Oh wait. I just remembered she said something about visiting Molly Mulroney. She must have gotten delayed.” He turned to Jace. “We’d better get out of these clothes and cleaned up before Maud gets back. If she sees us walking through the hotel like this, she’ll blow a gasket.”
The two went upstairs and Cammie turned her attention back to the computer. She turned it off and shut it down, her mind going over what she’d uncovered. There hadn’t been much, but what she did find made for interesting reading. Six young people between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one had disappeared over the course of twelve years. With opportunities scarce on the islands, it was speculated they’d left for the mainland to look for jobs. But if one read between the lines – and Cammie did – the assumption of really happened to them was darker. The disappearances occurred during a time before the islands became a tourist destination. Without mention of any mainlanders being present when the six vanished, it meant that if they had in fact never left the islands, their murderer must have been a local.
A terrifying thought when one considered the islanders were stuck with each other on several pieces of rock in the middle of a wide, expansive ocean. Because of this, they were dependent on each other for survival. For companionship. For assistance.
Was it possible one of those they depended on was a killer? Worse yet, had they uncovered the murderer and dispatched him or her with their own brand of justice?
Cammie jumped when she heard a bellow from upstairs. She dashed out of the library and was heading upstairs when she saw Glenn appear on the upstairs landing. “Hurry! Oh my God. I think Maud is dead!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Cammie took the stairs two at a time. Her stomach fell when she followed Glenn, not into his bedroom, but into the room where Andrew was supposedly sleeping. Her worst fear was confirmed when she saw the empty bed. Maud lay sprawled on the floor nearby. Her face was covered with blood from a gash on her temple. Cammie immediately fell to her knees and felt for a pulse.
“She’s not dead, Glenn. Quick, call Dr. Rhys.”
While Glenn ran down the hall to place the call, Cammie whipped out her phone and dialed Ellis.
“Come on!” she urged as the phone rang. When it went into voice mail, she left a message detailing what had occurred.
“Rhys will be here in ten minutes,” Glenn said as he came into the bedroom. He had a wet dishcloth in his hand which he used to gently wipe the blood from Maud’s face.
He was pale and his hand visibly shook. Cammie placed her hand over his. “She’s going to be alright, Glenn. Her pulse is strong. I’ve left a message for Deputy Martin.” She stood up and started from the room.
“Where are you going?” Glenn asked.
“To find Andrew.”
Cammie dashed into the room she shared with Jace to grab her coat. Hearing the shower running, she realized the poor guy had no idea what had happened to his aunt. She started towards the bathroom to let him know when she changed her mind. It wouldn’t just be what Andrew did to Maud that would upset him. If he suspected Cammie was going after Munson, he’d sit on her if he had to, to keep her from going. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Grabbing her coat and gun, she left the room, praying he’d understand.
Once she was in the SUV, she continued to try and reach Ellis. Each call went into voice mail. Finally, she gave up and shoved the phone into her pocket. Pressing her foot on the gas, she sped down the road towards Munson Cottage.
Ellis walked out of the last house facing Lighthouse Beach that lay near the center of town. He’d tracked down Mags and in between trying to keep her focused on his questions amidst two screaming toddlers who demanded her attention, she backed up what Keith told him.
“Andrew is probably one of the most easygoing drunks I’ve ever dealt with. But that night…I’ve never been frightened of anyone in my life and I’ve seen some doozies. But there was something about that boy…it wasn’t him, that’s all I can say. I can’t rightly explain what I mean. But it just wasn’t him.”
He had two viable suspects in the murder of Violet Munson. Neither had suitable explanations for where they were during the time Violet was hurled from the cliff. Both Andrew and Splash had gashes on their arms. Both were capable of manhandling the woman, leaving the bruises Dr. Rhys found on her waist. He looked out over the ocean and noticed a storm scuttling across the sky towards Eagla. The horizon was dark, and he estimated it would hit the island within the next fifteen minutes.
Depending on the ferocity of the storm, he may need to get a room at the hotel for the night. The thought of spending an evening in Cammie’s company sent a smile to his face. Which promptly disappeared when a thought occurred to him.
Was it possible both Andrew and Splash were responsible for Violet’s death?
Splash had an obvious motive – not only revenge for sacking him, but for jeopardizing Molly’s treatment. Without a steady income, where were they going to come up with the funds to continue her chemo?
Andrew’s was murkier, but not impossible to uncover. He took out his cell, intent on calling headquarters on the mainland to ask for help in researching the Munson’s financial background. To his surprise, he found he had no service.
He got into his car and drove to the center of Paradise Cove where his cell phone suddenly dinged. He looked at the display and immediately called back the number. His stomach tightened as he listened to the words on the other end. “Damn it,” he seethed. He hung up only to hear another ding. This phone call made him curse under his breath. The mainland had been hit by the storm he’d noticed coming his way, delaying the arrival of the Forensics team. As he hung up, he heard a third ding. He held up his phone and saw missed several calls. They were all from Cammie.
Cammie shut the engine off and stared out the window at Munson Cottage. Sure enough, one of the hotel’s vehicles was parked in the driveway.
She got out of the SUV and noticed for the first time the black clouds racing towards shore. She saw no signs that the Forensics team had been there, and she wondered if the storm had delayed their arrival. If that was true, no wonder Andrew had chosen to return, if only to grab a change of clothes and supplies before trying to find a way to get back to the mainland without being seen.
The sheriff was slightly surprised to find the grounds undisturbed. If this was Twin Ponds, there’d be a thousand footprints around the house, with neighbors gawking at the scene of a crime. However, here on Eagla Island, it was as if the townspeople didn’t want to acknowledge that anything out of the ordinary had taken place. Rather than pick apart any morsel of information they could find, they instead turned their backs on it.
Ostriching, that’s what they call it. Stick your head in the ground like an ostrich and refuse to admit that anything you don’t like has taken place.
Just like those articles she’d read that afternoon. The islanders had ostriched until
one too many young people disappeared. Then maybe, just maybe, they took matters into their own hands.
The police tape she and Ellis had put up in the front of the cottage was still intact. Walking around the back, she saw it ripped down from the kitchen door. Slightly surprised that Andrew had been so obvious, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. As soon as she did, she felt the change in the atmosphere. Although it was cold outside, it was as though she’d walked into a freezer. She pulled her coat closer about her as she moved further into the kitchen.
Cammie quietly looked about her. It wasn’t the frigidity of the air that made it feel as though something was way off. There was an oppressiveness hanging in the air. It was what she’d felt when she’d gone into the basement the last time she’d been here. Only now it was denser. Darker. Malevolent fingers creeping up her spine, threatening to suffocate her. If she were a weaker person, she’d turn around and escape. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Andrew was in here. She could feel it. And she was bound and determined to find him.
Her eyes roamed the kitchen, trying to see if anything had been moved since she’d been there with Ellis. Nothing caught her eye, but that didn’t mean Andrew wasn’t in the house. She took another step, then stopped. Earlier that morning, she’d opened the dishwasher, only to find it empty. She now wondered if he’d come back, gotten something to eat, then placed the items in the dishwasher to hide his presence, never suspecting she’d already looked inside the appliance?