Down at the harbor’s edge, Brenda spotted Jonathan giving final instructions to a tourist. Brenda headed in his direction. She told him of the investigation into the drowning of Patrick Anderson. He stood with his hands on his hips, puzzled and sad.
“There is no way he drowned,” Jon said. “Is Mac sure of that?”
“The coroner confirmed that was the cause of death. How strong of a swimmer would you say he was?”
“His skills went way beyond any kind of scale...I mean, he could be a lifeguard, that’s how strong a swimmer he was. I saw him swim a mile out into the harbor. Where did it happen?”
“That’s unknown right now. The body was not found on the beach, so we presume it was taken out of the water along the beach down here. Did you notice anyone hanging around, anything that was different when he was down here?”
“He came alone for the most part. Of course, most people on the beach couldn’t take their eyes off him when he stripped off his shirt for a swim. You don’t see people with that kind of physique every day. He’s almost acrobatic, the way he liked to dive into the ocean from the docks. He knew everyone watched him and could put on quite a show. He wasn’t as good at sailing as he was at swimming, but he was still pretty good at it.” Jon laughed shortly. “I have to admit I was glad when he focused on swimming that day. He came by and was very critical of the way I handled my business. Twice I was sure he was going to run off a customer. He was so rude, judgmental. I guess that explains why he came down here alone.”
“He didn’t talk to anyone in particular?” Brenda asked.
“No one he was friendly with.” Jon shook his head in disbelief. “Can you believe he insisted on giving me fitness advice? He said I was never going to be an elite sailboat racer or some such nonsense. He bragged about how most people go about building muscle all wrong. Listen to me…I guess I’ve complained enough about him. What a tragedy that he drowned.”
“We need to hear everything. He mentioned he was going to eat a light lunch and head right down here,” Brenda said. “Any information you have would be helpful.”
Jon offered to provide receipts showing when the man had briefly rented a one-person sailboat to scope out the swimming conditions in the center of the harbor. Brenda asked him to drop off photocopies at the police station, then thanked him and left. She walked along the sand and breathed in the salt air. She had nothing concrete yet. It was time to think about Alexandra’s words. The abrupt ending to their conversation raised a red flag, but it could simply be nervousness. Daniel Swift definitely avoided Alexandra as much as possible, which made Brenda all the more curious to hear his side of the failed romance between the two of them.
Brenda wished she could spend the rest of the day watching the seagulls and listening to the quiet lapping of waves. Her peaceful reverie was interrupted by a call from Mac.
“It’s official, Brenda,” he said. “The coroner confirmed ocean water and sand was found in Patrick’s lungs, consistent with a person being submerged and drowned in seawater. There are also minor injuries, likely from when he was put in the footlocker. However, the actual cause of death was strangulation, not drowning. We think the killer or killers thought he was dead and then realized he was still alive, so he was finished off by strangulation.”
It was an ugly detail. Brenda shuddered. She looked around at the waves, which looked less peaceful now and more threatening. “I’m still at the beach. Do you want me to look around for evidence? Did the coroner give us a better idea of where this happened?”
“We’re not sure which beach area to check, but you could rule things out by taking a look. My guys have already combed the dunes and beaches north of the main street, so maybe you can check the south areas. I hope the tide hasn’t washed away any evidence. Call me if you see anything.”
Brenda headed to the south portion of the beaches and watched children building sandcastles at the water’s edge. Two young couples stretched out on beach towels. One father cautioned his children to stay away from the water until they could all enjoy it together. Brenda realized she was heading closer and closer to the part of the beach near the bed and breakfast. If she looked up past the seawall and the scrub bushes in the sand, she could see the roof of the bed and breakfast.
She walked to the point where the sand turned to pebbles and then rock. Taking out her phone, she snapped several photos of undisturbed sand and pebbles. Then, on closer scrutiny, she noted a deep, double imprint behind a log that had washed ashore. The imprints looked as if they had been left by something heavy dragged through the sand. She immediately called Mac, who in turn said he would send an officer down to meet her.
“What are the measurements of the trunk the body was in?” Brenda said, scanning the disturbed sand around her.
Mac gave her the dimensions. “Officer Thompson will measure what you’ve found. We may have our crime scene. Are there beachgoers down there now?”
Brenda told him of the two families and several others who were nearby. She did not tell Mac yet, but she was disturbed by the thought that this area of the beach was easily viewable from the side garden of Sheffield House. That was exactly where everyone had stood and celebrated her father’s wedding just the other night. She waited impatiently for Officer Thompson to arrive. The deep imprint in the sand matched the dimensions of the footlocker. He snapped photos and then strung yellow tape around the area and called Mac while she listened in.
“Detective Rivers, I’ve taped off the section. We’re starting to attract attention. Do you want me to stay down here?”
Mac told him yes and that he was on his way. The four adults on the towels now watched with fascination. None of them asked what was going on until Brenda walked past them on her way back to Jonathan’s boat rental shed. She did not want to risk walking from the crime scene directly to her own home, thus drawing attention to the proximity of the two places.
“It is just something the police want to take a look at,” she told the people watching. “There’s no threat to anyone’s safety. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She reassured them, pretending yellow crime scene tape on the beach was normal.
She met Mac back at the police station and told him of her fears. He reassured her that there was no way to know the connections between the crime scene and the bed and breakfast and emphasized that more detailed questioning would be necessary.
Brenda told him most of the guests were out for the day, but she would stay around the bed and breakfast and notify each person one by one. It was decided to begin formal questioning at three that afternoon.
When Brenda spoke with Allie about the newest developments, the young reservationist felt badly about her rude interaction with Patrick Anderson. Brenda reassured her that most received similar treatment from the man. “You’re not alone, Allie. Try not to dwell on it. We still have guests to deal with. Speaking of…do you have a list of exactly which guests attended the wedding and the reception?”
“I don’t have a list,” Allie said, “but I do know who told me directly they didn’t plan on going. They were all very nice about it. No one except the Dickinsons knew Tim and Morgan, so it was understandable.” She told Brenda she was sure Carrie, Rick and Daniel had not attended. She had seen for herself the others were there for most of the celebrations. “I’m not sure who left when. I’m sure some folks went up to their rooms for a bit to get refreshed and then came back down for more dancing. We can’t rule that out, I mean.”
“What about Patrick? Did he say whether or not he planned to attend?”
Allie shook her head no. “I spoke with him when he signed in and once more when he was on his way to the beach. I didn’t see him at all after that. He could have been at the wedding. I didn’t see him there, but I wasn’t paying attention.” She paused. “Ask Phyllis about him. I saw her talk briefly with him that first day, maybe he told her something more about his plans.”
Brenda knew she would see Phyllis later, so first she headed back to her cottage.
Jenny had left her a note to tell her she was at her shop. Brenda called Mac and told him she was on her way to the police station to prepare for the questionings. None of the guests presented objections when she told them to come down as part of routine procedure.
At three sharp, Carrie Porter and Rick Dawson arrived. Carrie was escorted into one interrogation room and Rick into the second room to wait his turn. Carrie Porter sat down across from Mac. When she saw Brenda walk in and sit down next to her husband Mac, her mouth opened wide with surprise.
“Are you a police officer too, Brenda?”
“I am an investigator with the force when it’s called for. Mainly, my job is to run Sheffield Bed and Breakfast.” Brenda smiled reassuringly, and Mac assured Carrie that Brenda’s role was official within the department. Carrie expressed admiration for such an accomplishment.
“What can you tell us about Patrick’s death?” Brenda asked.
Carrie shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t know him, and frankly, I didn’t care to. He was pretentious and obnoxious, not friendly at all. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I’m just speaking the plain truth. The man was rude.”
“Thank you for being candid. I know you didn’t attend the wedding. Where did you spend your time that evening?” Brenda held her eyes on the petite blonde across from her.
Carrie thought back. “I spent the entire time downtown. I window-shopped and purchased a few things. I have receipts to show you.” When asked if she was alone, Carrie said, “I tried to reach Rick to get him to join me, but his phone was dead. He apologized later. He gets careless about keeping his cell charged. I doubt he checked it the night before and it died long before he realized it.”
Brenda and Mac exchanged glances. “What time did you catch up with him?” Mac asked.
“We finally connected around seven or maybe a little later. I was back at the bed and breakfast by then and he came in. We went to the Italian restaurant to eat. The wedding reception was underway by then and it was quite some party.” She turned to Brenda. “I know we could have enjoyed the Hawaiian buffet along with your guests, but we both love Italian and wanted a more intimate setting.”
There wasn’t much to glean from Carrie Porter. When Rick was asked how he spent his time when Carrie was trying to reach him, he produced his trademark grin. “I took a long walk along the shoreline. I enjoyed the time alone. I found out later Carrie was upset because I didn’t answer her calls, but I guess my battery died. I can’t keep track of that thing. I’d much rather enjoy the scenery. I’m not really a shopping kind of guy anyway.”
“What kind of business are you in? Don’t you need to keep it charged for work calls?” Brenda challenged him.
“I’m an anesthesiologist. We’re actually required to keep our cell phones off when we’re working. The hospital gives us these electronic badges that have a paging and calling function built right in, so we can always be reached when we’re on duty. I work eight-hour shifts and sometimes more. I’m not that into electronics in my spare time, honestly. I can barely work that badge pager thing even though I’ve been in that job forever.”
“Did you know Patrick Anderson?” Mac asked.
His face didn’t change but he blinked with annoyance. “You asked me that before and I have the same answer. Do you want me to repeat it?”
Mac stared at him. “Please do.”
Something in Rick’s answer sounded belligerent to Brenda as he told them again. There was no new information forthcoming. Afterward, Mac advised Rick and Carrie to stick around town.
“Great. We don’t have anywhere we plan to go,” Rick said. He sauntered over to join Carrie.
Before they moved to the next person, Brenda discussed her take on Alexandra Cornell and the couple they just interrogated. “I don’t have a good feeling about any of them. I can’t pin anything down, but something just isn’t right.” Mac agreed.
“We have to keep digging, Brenda,” he reminded her. “Someone knows something.”
When she left the station, Brenda was ready to close her car door when Sandra and Shane Dickinson pulled in next to her.
“Can we talk with you in private somewhere, Brenda?” Shane said out his window. He leaned across his wife, who had lowered her window. Surprised, Brenda told them to follow her to a nearby city park, not wanting to spook them by taking them to an interrogation room right away.
Several children in the distance climbed and swung around on the playground equipment while parents chatted with one another from the park benches. Brenda chose a table under the picnic pavilion, close to the parking lot. Sandra and Shane followed her, and they all sat down.
“Your father told us you once worked for a private detective when you were still living in Michigan,” Sandra said hesitantly. “We don’t want to gossip, but…we’ve noticed some things that have us wondering.” Brenda encouraged her to continue. Sandra motioned for her husband to speak.
“At first I didn’t think much of it. We came for your dad’s wedding and to enjoy our time around Sweetfern Harbor. This may be nothing, but we feel we should mention it.” Brenda grew concerned and told him to go on. “Just before the wedding started, we passed near Daniel Swift and Rick Dawson talking together in the downstairs hallway. Rick seemed to be bragging a little and…well, we heard him talking about how sometimes people died on the operating table because of miscalculated anesthesia. He insisted it wasn’t his fault, but he had seen it happen. He said something like, you’ll never believe who tried to frame me for it. And Daniel was very interested in hearing more.”
“I told Shane they were probably just talking nonsense,” Sandra said. “But later Rick came up to me and started a friendly conversation and it made me think. He said Patrick was a fool to go out swimming so late, he kept going on and on about how dangerous it was. He said even good swimmers sometimes have accidents and drown. Daniel was there too, and he seemed upset about the whole thing. But strangest of all was when I saw Daniel’s eyes go dark with anger. I looked behind me to see what caused him to be so upset. It was Alexandra. You know, the shy woman? She was listening to our conversation from around the corner and Daniel must have seen her just then. If looks could kill...”
Sandra and Shane waited for Brenda’s response. Brenda tried to fit this story in with everything she already knew about her guests and could not see the connections yet. “What you’ve told me could be very helpful.”
“I think you should question Alexandra. She’s certainly a champion eavesdropper, maybe she knows something.” Sandra leaned back.
“I don’t think we should try to tell Brenda her job, Sandra,” Shane said.
Brenda smiled. “Actually, we’ll take all the help we can get at this point. I suppose Alexandra could simply be a nosy person but it’s worth digging deeper. A good investigator keeps all options open until the evidence points in the right direction.”
“So, he was murdered for sure?” Sandra asked. “There’s no way it was just an accident?” She covered her mouth and shook her head sorrowfully.
“I wish I could give you a better answer, Mrs. Dickinson.” Brenda felt certain everyone had heard the rumors about him being attacked in the water, but she was fairly certain no one yet knew about where his body had been taken after he died. “All we know is that his manner of death was drowning. Everything else is just questions.”
The laughter of children playing in the park echoed around them and they walked back to their cars to head their separate ways.
4
Observations
Brenda drove back to Sheffield Bed and Breakfast and took a walk along the garden pathways. She spotted Rick on one of the benches that faced the budding mums. She took a seat at the opposite end of the bench, pretending to simply enjoy the view, and used the opportunity to ask about his job.
The medical field was one subject Rick Dawson seemed most caught up in. He told her the work could be tough, but he never regretted going into anesthesia.
“Do you, as a
physician, have any experience with people drowning? Any idea how a good swimmer could drown?”
Rick shook his head. “I don’t have a lot of experience in that area, but perhaps he was on a medication that interfered with his usual strengths and abilities. He could have been stung by a jellyfish. The ocean isn’t safe for a solo swimmer. It can turn on you.” He fixated on the mums. “Maybe he got caught on something in the water and couldn’t get loose. Was he entangled in something?”
“No details are being released at this point, I’m afraid. I’m sure that will all be revealed soon enough.”
The huge look of relief on Rick’s face when Carrie interrupted them wasn’t lost on Brenda.
“I thought you wanted to get into the water, Rick. Are you ready?”
Rick smiled at Carrie. “I’m ready. I was just waiting for you.” They told Brenda they would see her at dinner that evening.
After the couple left, Brenda decided to take a walk along the shoreline. She heard more voices than usual down there and felt she could easily mix in unnoticed. At the top step before descending to the beach she watched Carrie and Rick observe the taped-off area on the beach. If they didn’t already know, this surely told them where Patrick’s death occurred. Did they also know he didn’t end up there on the beach? She watched Carrie move her sandaled foot back and forth at the edge of the barrier. The officer on duty stepped forward and motioned to them to stay away since the area was off-limits.
The couple backed up a few steps and then stripped to their bathing suits and plunged into the water. Brenda watched while they stuck close together. Neither swam very far out and after ten minutes came out, dried off and slipped shorts and shirts over their wetsuits. While they readied themselves to leave, Brenda made her way back to the bed and breakfast unseen.
She called the coroner to ask what other evidence had been found in the body. He told her there was sand and seawater and nothing else, confirming that the deed began and ended on the beach. “Whoever did this likely had the footlocker down at the beach, in place.” He hesitated. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out how no one at all saw the crime in progress. It’s still tourist season, and I’m surprised no one was on the beach. Mac and I have discussed this over and over with no idea of a lead. Of course, that’s not my job…I expect the detective and you will figure this out. For now, I’m concentrating on the body.”
Is This Suitcase Taken? Page 4