Ahead of me, I watched Mrs. Sterling’s car.
“Are you driving?” said Emily. I knew it was a rhetorical question, and I could tell she was not happy.
“I’m dropping the cat back at the store,” I said. “I’ll call you from there and you can let me know if you need anything else. I should get to work on the new unity candles.”
“Fine,” said Emily. “I sent a text to Andy that we had a false alarm. Call me later and let me know you’re OK. I don’t like any of this, even if it was the wind. No more snooping around. Promise?”
“Lesson learned,” I said.
“Stay cool,” said Emily.
“You too,” I said and hung up as Tinker sunk into the passenger seat for his nap. I was impressed by his ability to sleep after having found his master dead this morning and his new mistress locked in a room this afternoon. Very Zen.
As we headed down the road, I watched the car in front of me. Aside from driving faster than the speed limit, there was nothing unusual about the car. Mrs. Sterling’s speed was understandable. She was likely behind schedule after the unexpected events this morning.
I still could not accept that Bill was the murderer, but to prove to myself that I was not being unreasonable, I considered the facts from Bellamy’s perspective. After Joe and Tony had left, Simon could have made a final wager with Bill. Whatever it was, Bill had felt conned in the end. It followed that an altercation could have ensued and, accidentally, Bill could have struck and killed Simon. It was all feasible, but then I remembered the day that Maude had killed that snake. It was because Bill had been terrified it might hurt someone. Bill was not a violent man.
Mrs. Sterling’s car reached the end of the road and took a right toward town. I followed her to a roundabout, but I was surprised when she passed the exit for town and circled toward one leading to the airport. I knew that Emily had an entire spreadsheet dedicated to making sure vans from the Melville would pick up all of the guests. The earliest pick up was three o’clock, but it was now only two.
I followed.
After a couple of miles, Mrs. Sterling turned right onto Airport Road. She had the lead, but when I reached the road, I took the same right turn as well. In addition to ending at the airport, the road includes a gas station on the left and a motel, The Nantucket Inn, on the right. I followed the road to the airport’s entrance and swung into the parking lot, where I trolled for Mrs. Sterling’s car. I saw no sign of it. I circled around to the front of the terminal, where there was space for cars to drop off or pick up passengers. Still, no sign of the Sterling’s car. The Nantucket Memorial Airport has grown about ten times since I was born, but it’s still a pin dot compared to most airports. If you want to find a car, you can. And I could not find this one.
At a loss, I pulled out of the airport and took a right to head back to town. I decided to get back to my store and start the candles, as I’d promised Emily. I passed the motel, and peeked into the parking lot as I was picking up speed.
Bingo.
Chapter 9
Mrs. Sterling was opening her car door by the side entrance to the Nantucket Inn. Both the Melville and the Nantucket call themselves inns, but there’s no comparison. Although tidy and inviting, the airport’s lodgings were nothing compared to the luxurious spread at the Melville.
I slowed down and made a U-turn, crawling to the inn’s parking lot where I drove around back. When I turned off the car, however, I didn’t move. I strummed the top of the steering wheel, bit my lip. Then, I took the mace out of my glove compartment, opened the car door, and headed to the lobby.
Fortunately for me, the doors to the Nantucket Inn are four wide and all paned glass, so there’s a good view inside. Added to that is a nice oversized shrub by the entry, which now offered more than enough coverage so that I could lay low, rather than barge in behind the woman and scare her away from me for life. I pressed myself behind the foliage and peeked inside.
Mrs. Sterling was speaking to the concierge. I tried to make out what she was saying, but Emily is the only one whose lips I can read. The concierge was typing on his computer, looking serious. Mrs. Sterling opened her purse. She slipped the concierge what looked like money, along with a card of some sort.
At that moment, a hand slipped around my waist and I was pulled from the bushes by the arm of Andy. Before I could say a word, he put a finger over my lips.
“I’ll do the talking. What are you doing hiding in a hedge?” he said.
“What are you doing finding me in a hedge?”
“It’s my job to make sure people don’t lurk in places they’re not supposed to. Plus, I got a text from Emily and then a call on my radio that a car with your plate number was speeding away from the Melville. Listen,” he said. I noticed he was still holding me. “I know it’s been a rough morning, but you need to chill.”
“Mrs. Sterling is inside,” I said. “Why?”
“Why not?” he said. “She’s hosting a wedding this weekend. Perhaps everyone is not staying at the uber-expensive Melville.”
“No,” I said. “I would’ve had instructions to drop off candles here if they had rented rooms.”
“I’ll pass the info to Bellamy,” said Andy. “Meantime, let’s get out of the hedges. I’ve got a major headache going on at FIGAWI. Someone had the bright idea of leaving creations made of old lobster-trap buoys around town.”
“From the Lifesaving Museum?” I said. There was always a spirit of mischief that went along with our sailing event’s revelry, but this was new.
The Lifesaving Museum, which was not far at all from the Melville, had started a drive during the off-season to collect old lobster-trap buoys, some wooden, some foam, in order to provide projects and activities during the summer. Lobster-trap buoys are brightly colored and small and lend themselves to creative inspiration. I’d heard a couple of towns on the Cape even made Christmas trees out of them. The museum’s plan was to clean and refinish them for reuse, but right now, the project had gotten no further than an impressive pile of items people had donated that was lying on the lawn behind the museum.
“Exactly,” said Andy. “People are already calling him the Buoy Bandit. The museum’s supply is depleted. Meanwhile, they are popping up around town as art installations, if you can call them that. I’ve been combing through buoys all morning, looking for anything that might tell me who this guy is. There was one in the shape of a life preserver at Jetties Beach. Kids were climbing all over it. The parents were steaming because their kids stank.”
“Then this shrubbery here is a step up for you today,” I said. Maybe it was just the idea of it, but I thought Andy might be smelling a little bit like low tide. I stepped back from his arm. “I’m telling you,” I said. “Something’s up with these two.”
Andy sighed, then looked through the lobby’s window.
“Well,” he said. “Whatever it was, she’s gone now, probably through the back door. I know it’s upsetting, what we saw this morning, and Bill being under arrest, but the police know their stuff and Bellamy is highly respected. Meanwhile, we have a thousand sailing enthusiasts on the island this weekend who deserve our care. I don’t want someone to get hurt over something silly because I don’t have my head in the game.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Promise?” Andy said.
“I’ve got work to do,” I said. “I have to redesign the unity candle.”
“You’re kidding,” he said. “They really want another candle? The idea seems a little cursed.”
“You’re not the only one with that thought,” I said. “I’ve already had a cancellation from another wedding.”
“Sorry,” he said.
“By the way,” I said. “If you talk to Bellamy, let him know that Jessica Sterling brought loads of papers about the failed deal between her father and Simon Sterling.”
“How’d you learn this?” said Andy.
“No laws were broken,” I said, and decided to leave it at that. �
�But given the story Mrs. Sterling told us this morning about the land, just makes me wonder if Jessica didn’t feel that bygones were bygones after all.”
“Let’s leave the puzzling to Bellamy, OK?” Andy crossed his arms. “It’s an interesting idea, but I have strict orders for the weekend and they do not include this murder. I’d get fired if anyone knew I was even poking around.”
“I get it. By the way,” I added. “Gina Ginelli was at the Melville this morning. I was thinking of stopping by to see how she’s doing, all alone and so close to a murder scene. Who knows? She might have seen something last night.”
Andy did this thing where he shifts his jaw the slightest bit so that it sort of winks at you.
“You might want to warn her about the FIGAWI crowd’s fondness for going to the beach at night. In case she has visitors,” I said. “I think that falls within your orders this weekend.”
“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” he said.
“Give me five minutes,” I said. “I just need to use the ladies’ room.”
I headed toward the hotel lobby as Andy climbed back into his car. When I entered the motel, I went right to the concierge desk.
“Hi,” I said. “Stella Wright. I own the Wick & Flame in town.”
“Oh?” said the man. He barely bothered to look up from his computer screen.
“Listen,” I said. “The woman who was just in here. Can you tell me if she rented rooms here for the weekend? I’m working on the daughter’s wedding and I need to know if I should drop off some gifts for their guests. I don’t want to bother them though. They’ve had a busy morning.”
The concierge shook his head.
“No,” he said. “But she was looking for someone.”
I wrinkled my brow.
“Who?” I said.
“A woman, but she just missed her. She checked out about an hour ago,” he said. He glanced into the trash bin beside him. I peeked as well. The card I had seen Mrs. Sterling pass the concierge was a photo of a woman with henna-dyed hair and big gold hoop earrings. She was clearly not of the same ilk as the Sterlings, but she had a friendly look about her. I gathered that Mrs. Sterling had given the man both the picture and some money to keep an eye out for her.
“Weddings, right?” I said.
“I guess,” he said and returned to his computer screen.
I figured I’d taken enough of his time, and I didn’t want Andy to pull around and see me talking to the concierge. I said thanks and headed outside where I popped back in my car and pulled up behind Andy’s patrol car. Following his lead, we headed back toward the Melville.
When we reached the inn, instead of pulling ahead to the parking lot, Andy took a right down a dirt road toward the harbor. There were a few cottages scattered here and there, and Andy’s car slowed. I pulled up beside one with a light blue car parked in the small driveway. Tinker had no interest in this part of the day, so I left my motor running with the heat on so he could nap in peace. I hoped the warmth would be a better incentive to stay in the car than my towel had been.
“I’ve only got five minutes,” said Andy when I got out. “I need to head over to Bartlett’s Farm. The line outside of Cisco Brewery is getting too long.”
He knocked on the door. I thought how Emily was going to kill me for coming here without her.
There was no answer.
Andy knocked again.
“Looks like you’re out of luck,” he said. “You’ll have to find an excuse to meet her some other way. Just make sure I don’t have to arrest you in the process.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Other than the time Emily and I broke into that hot tub, when have you ever had to arrest us?”
I hated to leave without some story to tell Emily, so I reached over the bush beside the door and peered into the window. It’s not like I thought I’d see Gina Ginelli’s Academy Award on the kitchen counter, but I thought there might be something colorful to share.
I grabbed Andy’s arm, and didn’t let go. Without saying a word, I pointed through the window. Without needing to say a word back, he began looking for an open door or window.
Lying on the sofa was Gina Ginelli, her eyes closed. Like a tableau from one of her films, her body languished across the furniture. One arm was raised above her head. The other was draped to the floor. And in the hand of that arm, she held a gun.
Chapter 10
“Miss Ginelli?” Andy banged on the door. “Police.” He turned to me. “Get in the car, Stella.”
“As if,” I said.
He didn’t have a chance to lecture me further, because the door opened.
Gina Ginelli greeted us in a chiffon kaftan. It was covered in a matching flowy robe, but it was still too flimsy for the day. Her hair blew on cue, and I swear there was a tear in her eye. Well past fifty, she had full and dewy skin, high cheekbones that still held up her face, yet she didn’t look like she’d had plastic surgery. I was distracted from her beauty, however, because she was still holding her gun. Andy’s hand was on his hip and ready to draw.
“May I help you?” she asked, sounding brave and noble.
She lifted the gun. I ducked, but I was surprised to feel Andy’s shoulders relax.
“No need for the police,” she said with a small laugh. “I was just practicing lines for a new movie.” She waved the prop gun. “Looks pretty convincing, doesn’t it?”
“Can we come in?” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m working right now. Maybe another time?”
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” said Andy. He took a step backward, as if to leave, but I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass me by.
“Given that your role includes a gun,” I said, “I bet you could benefit from some insights from the police.”
Andy said nothing, but the look he gave me was less than subtle. He had other things to do today than train a movie star.
Gina rubbed her chin with her gun.
“All right,” she said. “Come in.”
Before Andy could object, she turned and walked into the cottage. I let out a giggle that would make a teenaged girl die of embarrassment.
“I thought it was real,” I said.
Gina fell onto the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. I wasn’t sure if the overture was for me or Andy, but I sat. Gina’s cottage was small but charming. The first floor was an open loft with a kitchen and seating area. Stairs led up to a bedroom, whose door was visible from an open landing. It could have been a set for a stage.
“And you are?” she said to me, laying her gun down.
“Oh, I’m Stella Wright,” I said, dying. “I make candles in town.”
“I love candles,” she said with so much warmth that I felt right at home.
The first thing I noticed now that I was up close and personal with Gina Ginelli was a faint but distinct fragrance. Bergamot with a touch of vanilla and something else. When we became better friends, I would ask her. It would make a good scent. The Ginelli. I’d sell out in seconds.
“I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing alone in this cottage in the middle of nowhere,” said Gina. “I’m preparing for a new film. It takes place in a remote part of Scotland, so I wanted someplace isolated, cold, and foggy to get into the part.”
“What’s the movie about?” I asked. I was not too pleased at her description of my island, but I couldn’t resist asking.
“It’s a mystery,” she said with such mystery that I was already hooked. “A murder mystery.”
“Really?” Andy said. He had been quiet until now, but suddenly he looked interested.
She countered his interest with an almost mocking smile.
“Indeed,” she said. “Looks like my choice to come here was fortuitous, wouldn’t you say?” She winked at him and I felt my eyes widen in surprise.
“Why do you say that?” said Andy. He seemed unflustered by the wink. I wondered if police officers were often winked at.
“And what will that story be?” said Andy. “I heard you stopped at the Melville this morning. Was it to inquire about the murder?”
I knew Andy wouldn’t be able to resist a few questions once I got him here.
“Officer, I can see you know what goes on in this town,” said Gina. “I heard about your murder down the road this morning, and I wanted to check it out. Here I am, studying for the role of an investigator on an isolated island, who needs to discover who killed a man in his study. And I wake up this morning to find out there was a dead body at the inn. I know I sound crude, but the timing was fantastic. Can I get either of you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” said Andy. He gave me the slightest glance, but it was enough that I could tell he didn’t want me to take a drink either.
I shook my head to decline the offer. It was hard though. I really would have loved to accept a drink from Gina Ginelli.
“Stella was correct,” said Gina. “I could use a little help from someone on the local police force. You know, for some tips about how small-town police work, on an island and all. Maybe some information about the murder last night?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the crime at the Melville,” said Andy. “Stella and I came by to let you know that there’s an event on the island this weekend.” He described FIGAWI to her. “You should be aware that the revelers can sometimes spill onto the beach at night.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “I might join them for a skinny dip. There’s nothing better than ice-cold water on the skin, under the moonlight. Am I right?”
She had the tact to turn to me for an answer, but I was torn about Gina Ginelli at that moment.
“Were you practicing a sad scene?” I asked.
Gina looked confused.
Murder's No Votive Confidence Page 7