by J A Whiting
19
The day was unusually warm and sunny and Claire and Ian decided to rent a boat and sail around the Charles River for an hour under the bright blue sky. Lots of other boats were out on the water, their white sails vivid against the color of the sky. Many people paddled kayaks and canoes, and couples and families strolled along the paths that lined the river enjoying the beautiful weather.
Crossing the river to the east was the striking cable-stayed Zakim Bridge designed to suggest the Bunker Hill Monument tower. The bridge’s long, elegant, white cables were created to echo the rigging of the USS Constitution docked nearby. To the west, the impressive buildings of Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Harvard University lined the banks of the river.
Claire let her hand trail in the cold water for a few minutes. “We better not capsize or we’ll freeze to death.”
“We won’t capsize, but if something happens and we do, hang on to the boat and try to pull yourself up out of the water as far as you can.” Ian moved the tiller a little to the right as his phone vibrated and he read the text message. “The security cameras in the area where Jenny Harrington parked her car before she went to New Hampshire have been looked at. It doesn’t appear that the car was moved during Jenny and her boyfriend’s trip.”
“Huh,” Claire pondered.
Ian smiled and teased, “Your response will be inadmissible in court.”
Claire gave Ian’s leg a playful poke with her foot, and then said, “If Jenny killed Grace, she didn’t use her car to take the body away. She certainly didn’t hire an Uber or a cab to do it. So is she off the suspect list?”
“What if she did kill Grace? She took the body away in her car and dumped it, and on returning to park on the street, the same spot was open and she pulled in.”
“Is that even remotely possible?” Claire frowned. “It’s Boston. Everyone’s trying to find a place to park their car. What’s the likelihood of finding the same parking spot available? Zero?”
Ian maneuvered the sailboat away from some kayakers who were crossing the river. “Even so. I’m not ready to take Jenny off the suspect list. Why can’t she say why she came back to the city that night? What was she up to?”
“We may never know.” Claire ducked as the sail passed by her head. “What about Harry’s new red convertible? He told me a good reason for buying it … he wants to live and do things he’s often thought about, but gee, he couldn’t wait a full two weeks after Grace died. It struck me as insensitive.”
“Harry could be insensitive without being responsible for Grace’s murder.”
“Yes, but there are other things I don’t like.”
Ian gave Claire the eye. “In a paranormal way?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.” Claire admired the buildings of the Beacon Hill and Adamsburg Square neighborhoods as they glided by on the water. “Harry wants to move away and start a new job. He bought a new car. It all seems sort of desperate and frantic. If Grace’s death did knock him to his knees, shouldn’t he give himself some time before making so many new decisions?” Her expression turned suspicious. “Or is he high on getting away with killing her and is on a spending spree to celebrate?”
“Either one is possible.” Ian adjusted his baseball hat to keep the sun out of his eyes.
“Harry revealed one of his hobbies is skeet shooting and going to the firing range.” Claire made eye contact with her boyfriend. “As soon as the words were out of his mouth, there was a slight moment of panic in his voice and he was quick to tell me he never hunted because he didn’t have any interest in killing anything.”
Ian nodded. “He might have been panicked because he thought you’d think he killed Grace. Do you have any sensations about these people?”
Claire shrugged. “When I’m talking with Jenny, I feel uncomfortable around her. I feel like she rarely tells the truth. I don’t trust her. When I’m with Harry, I sense an arrogant and boastful personality. I feel he’s a person who thinks his own needs and wants are the most important. He rarely considers others. I think of him as a taker. The air around him feels selfish, agitated, and angry.”
“Is either one capable of murder?” Ian asked.
“I feel hints of that coming from them when we talk, but I’m not ready to point a finger … yet.”
“Do you think we’ve spoken with the killer … or are we way off base?”
Claire let her hand slip into the water again as she contemplated Ian’s question. Before she had time for her thoughts to form, she heard herself say, “Yes, we have.” She sat up and blinked. “I don’t know where that came from. I didn’t even have time to think about what you asked.”
Ian smiled. “I guess it came from your subconscious. Maybe it knows more than you do.”
“There are two things I’d like to do,” Claire told Ian.
“What are they?”
“One, I think we should talk to Jenny’s boyfriend again, Dr. Martin Gray. Ask him again about Jenny and their trip to New Hampshire.”
“I can arrange a meeting with him. What’s number two?”
Claire gave her boyfriend a sly smile. “You’ve been the captain the whole time we’ve been out here on the river. It’s my turn to drive this boat.”
Ian chuckled and switched seats with Claire and she sailed the boat for twenty minutes before heading back to the docks. On the way there, Ian’s phone vibrated again. He read the message and shared what it said.
“It seems someone wants to talk with me.” A serious expression had formed on Ian’s face. “Linda Moore, the woman who asked Harry to meet her at a pub the night Grace died, has requested to meet with me.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” A chill of unease ran over Claire’s skin as she piloted the boat to its slip at the dock. “Well, you know what Bob Cooney told me.”
Ian looked blank.
“When fortune knocks … open the door.”
Ian and Claire made dinner together and ate outside on the townhouse’s patio under the little twinkling lights. The Corgis rested on the grass next to the table sniffing the air and watching a squirrel sitting high up in the big tree. The couple promised each other there would be no talk of crime for the rest of the evening.
“The summer will be here before we know it.” Ian scooped some of the potatoes, peppers, and vegetarian sausages from the serving dish to Claire’s plate. “I thought it would be nice to plan a week away.”
“That would be great. It’s been a long time since I’ve taken a vacation. It would be wonderful to go on a getaway. Did you have somewhere in mind?”
“What about Nantucket?”
With a blank expression, Claire stared at her boyfriend and said slowly, “You remember I used to have a house there, right? With Teddy?”
“I remember. I’ve never been to the island. I’d like to see it. Is it too soon for you to go back?”
Claire took a minute to reply. “No. I guess it isn’t.”
Ian took her hand. “We can choose a different place if you’d rather. I just thought, you loved the island and I’d like to see your favorite places and….”
Claire squeezed his hand. “I think it’s a good idea. I do love it there and I’d like you to see it. I’d like to go back … with you.”
Both Corgis barked their approval.
Ian beamed at his girlfriend. “We’ll make plans. Tell me some places you’d like to stay and I’ll call and see if they have availability ... or maybe we could rent a house.”
“I have a friend who lives there I’d like to see,” Claire said. “I haven’t seen her for over a year. She was nice to me when I was going through a sad time. Maybe we could get-together for dinner one night. I’d like you to meet her.”
“What’s her name?” Ian asked.
“Lin Coffin. She owns a landscaping business on the island.” Claire poured wine into two glasses and handed one to Ian.
“I’m excited. If the beaches are half as nice as you say they are, I’ll be in heaven.” Ian grinned from ear t
o ear.
Claire chuckled. “Then you will be in heaven because I haven’t exaggerated.”
Ian dug into his meal. “I read there’s a triathlon on the island in July. Maybe we should---”
Claire interrupted him. “No.”
Ian looked up from his food.
“Absolutely not.” Claire shook her head. “This is a vacation. This is rest and relaxation. It’s time for us to be together and enjoy each other without crimes or baking or cookbooks pushing their way into our lives.”
“You’re right. It was a dumb idea.”
Claire smiled. “Yes, it was.”
When the meal was over and the dishes placed in the dishwasher, Ian got the leashes from the closet and the dogs yipped and raced to the front door wagging their short tails.
Ian and Claire each held a leash as they walked the brick sidewalks of the neighborhood of historic homes and townhouses under the flickering, old-fashioned black streetlamps. Window boxes spilled over with spring flowers and greenery and pots of flowers stood on many of the homes’ front steps. A few people were out walking, but for the most part, the streets were quiet.
“Nicole and I have been discussing something about the business,” Claire told Ian. “I’d like to ask your opinion about it.”
When Claire had finished going over the details of her and Nicole’s idea, Ian put his arm around her shoulders. “I think it’s a terrific idea. Go for it.”
20
Linda Moore was in her late twenties, slim and petite, with shoulder-length brown hair and big brown eyes. She was dressed in a navy blue skirt, a pale blue shirt, and a yellow blazer. The woman had asked Ian to meet her in a small, family-owned restaurant in Medford which made him wonder why she didn’t want to meet in her North End neighborhood or somewhere else in Boston. Claire didn’t think it was a good omen.
Linda was waiting for them at the entrance and she looked up from her phone when she saw them enter the building. “Detective Fuller?”
Ian shook hands with her and introduced Claire. “I mentioned I’d be bringing a consultant along with me. This is Claire Rollins.”
The hostess led them to a table in the back. Linda had asked to be seated in the most private section of the room. When the waitress came over, they ordered drinks and when she walked away, Linda leaned forward.
“Thanks for coming here. I wanted to meet somewhere out of the way. I wanted to be able to have a confidential conversation.” The woman’s face showed signs of fatigue and strain. “I wanted to talk to you about a friend of mine. Harry Parker. Maybe I’m making something out of nothing, but it keeps coming into my mind and I can’t shake it.”
“What is it that’s bothering you?” Ian asked.
“You’re investigating Grace Dylan’s death. You’re the detective in charge so you must be aware that Harry Parker dated Grace for many years.”
Ian nodded. “They’d recently broken up.”
“That’s right.”
“How do you know Harry?” Ian asked.
“We were in pharmacy school together. We were in study groups together. We’ve kept in touch since we graduated and we meet up once or twice every couple of months. I have two little kids. They’re three years old, both girls. I work full-time, too. There’s a lot going on.”
“Have you seen Harry recently?”
“I saw Harry on the night Grace was killed. We had a drink together in the North End.” Linda pushed the hair away from her forehead. “We met at the bar right after he got off work for the night.”
“Did anyone else join you for drinks?” Claire questioned.
“No, it was just us. Just to set things straight, there’s nothing remotely romantic between us. I have a great husband. Harry and I are colleagues. We think it’s helpful to stay in touch for professional reasons, but we got along when we were in school and we wanted to keep up the friendship.” Linda glanced around the restaurant. “Harry and I aren’t great pals or anything. We’re friendly, we like chatting with each other.”
Watching the woman, Claire picked up on her anxiety and was hoping she’d soon get to the reason why she contacted Ian.
“Had you met Grace?” Ian asked.
“My husband and I met Grace and Harry a couple of times for drinks. Grace seemed really nice, smart. She had plans for her future. She was excited when she was accepted to the master’s program. She told me she might like to study for a law degree when she was done with the nurse practitioner program. Grace wanted to teach at a university and possibly go into administration. She thought both degrees might help her advance.”
“We’ve heard similar things about Grace,” Ian told her with a smile. “Everyone we’ve talked with has said how intelligent she was, that she loved to learn, had a thirst for knowledge, and was a very nice person.”
“You met Harry for drinks?” Claire tried to prod the woman into revealing her concerns.
“That’s right. We met for a drink in the North End not far from where I live.”
When the drinks were brought to the table, Linda took a long swallow and set the glass down.
“Was there something worrisome that happened?” Ian asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, no, nothing worrisome happened. It was just that … Harry seemed out of sorts somehow.”
“Do you think that because of something he said?” Claire asked.
“He seemed really distracted, almost nervous. Usually he easily carries on conversation, but that night he seemed distant. I had to keep asking him questions to encourage him to talk. He kept glancing around like he was waiting for someone.”
“Did you bring it up with him? Did you ask if anything was wrong?”
“I did. He smiled and told me everything was fine, that he was a little tired from the long working days. He said he was glad to see me and apologized for seeming out of it.”
“After you brought it up, did Harry act more like himself?”
“No, he didn’t. He kept on the same way. I caught him checking the time every so often. I asked if he had to be somewhere, but he told me no. I have to admit I was a little annoyed with him, but then I wondered if something was upsetting him. I didn’t know if he was having trouble at work or something.”
“Did you ask?”
“I did. Harry said that his work was going great. He really liked his job. He was happy there. It was like pulling teeth to get him to converse. I asked again if anything was wrong and well, for a split second he got angry. Annoyance or anger or whatever it was flashed over his expression and then it was gone. For a second, he looked at me like I was some annoyance and he didn’t know why I was sitting next to him. It was really odd.”
“Did Harry become less distracted as the night went on?” Claire asked.
Linda shook her head. “He seemed to get more nervous, almost agitated. He was shifting around on the bar seat, looking around, checking the time. Finally, he said he should get going.”
“I was glad when he said it was time for him to go. I was almost relieved. I wondered if Harry was on something, maybe he was high. I don’t know. It was like someone else had inhabited Harry’s body that night. I can tell you, I wasn’t very interested in getting together again any time soon.” Linda lifted her glass to her lips.
“Did Harry say if he was going home?”
“He told me he was tired and he was heading home,” Linda said. “There was something else odd that night. Harry always walks me home after we meet for a drink. Not that night. He took off the second we stepped out of the place. That wasn’t like him at all. He always walked with me to be sure I got home safely.”
“Did he say why he was in such a hurry?”
“He didn’t and I didn’t ask. It was such a strange night, so unlike every other time we’ve gotten together.” Linda shook her head. “It seemed like I was with a completely different person.”
“Where did Harry go after you left the bar?” Ian questioned. “Did you see which way he was headed?”
/> Linda told the detective which way he turned.
“Does he usually go that way when you leave that bar?”
“No, he usually walks me home.” Linda was still confused by Harry’s behavior.
“Did you talk to him again after you parted ways? Have you spoken to him since Grace died?”
“I sent him a text and a card saying I was sorry about Grace. I knew they’d broken up, but they’d been together something like four or five years so I thought sending a sympathy card was the right thing to do.”
“Did you hear from Harry after you texted and sent the card?” Ian asked.
“Yeah. He thanked me in a text. It was very brief, but at least he responded. I told him if he wanted to go out some night to have a break from everything, to just let me know.” Linda sat up straight. “He didn’t answer that text. I haven’t seen him or heard from him since Grace died. I’m actually glad. After that last time when we went out, I hoped I wouldn’t see him again for a while.” Shaking her head slowly back and forth, she added, “I don’t know why he asked me to meet him for drinks that night. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for a friend-night out.”
Claire nodded sympathetically, and then suddenly stopped. “Wait. Harry asked you to meet?”
Linda looked at Claire. “Yeah. That’s how it usually works. I’m so busy with work and the kids that time flies by and I never get around to asking friends to go out.”
“Harry told us you asked him to meet,” Ian said.
With a look of surprise, Linda shrugged. “I didn’t. Why would he say that? Maybe he misspoke.”
“Maybe.”
Ian looked pointedly at the woman. “Did you ask us to meet with you because you think Harry’s odd behavior that night had something to do with Grace’s death?”
Claire saw Linda’s lower lip twitch slightly.
Linda chose her words carefully. “I thought it might be something for you to look into.”
“Did Harry ever say anything about being angry with Grace for breaking up with him?”
“Well, a little. He was surprised she wanted to end it. I think he was under the impression they would get married someday. He was angry about it. But I don’t think he said anything different than anyone else who’d ever been dumped.” Linda tilted her head. “I never in a million years would think Harry would ever hurt anyone. But that night we went out, he sure wasn’t himself.”