“Beth’s in trouble, isn’t she?” Lindsey asked in a soft voice that only he could hear.
“Yep,” he said, his voice grim.
CHAPTER 10
The boat ride to the shore was not nearly as exhilarating as the one out. The sun remained hidden behind a large fat cloud, taking its warmth with it.
Lindsey felt goose bumps rise up on her arms, but she couldn’t decide if it was from the chilly air or the shock of what they’d found on Gull Island. She glanced back at Beth. She’d had the sense to wear a thick sweater, and although she was pale, she didn’t look cold.
She turned back to find Sully holding out a fleece to her. It was navy blue and looked as if it would hang down to her knees, but that was fine with her. She pulled it over her head and burrowed into its warmth.
He was wearing a windbreaker and didn’t appear chilled at all. She wondered if sailors just got used to the frigid temperatures out on the open water.
“Thanks,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t need it?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m good.”
“Good, because I really don’t want to give it back,” she said. She burrowed into its warmth and was pleased to discover that her teeth stopped chattering.
She wanted to ask more questions about Chief Daniels and what sort of trouble he would make for Beth, but she didn’t want to do it in front of Beth. Besides, she was still a newcomer in Briar Creek, and even though Sully had been very nice, she wasn’t sure how comfortable a townie would be when she asked pointed questions about the police chief.
They docked at the main pier, and Sully helped them both out of the boat. They headed toward his office, where he stuck his head in to let Ronnie know he was back. Then he walked them over to the Blue Anchor.
“You need to eat something,” he said to Beth. “You look like you’re going to fall down.”
“I’m not hungry,” she protested, but Sully ignored her and steered them to a corner table in Mary’s café. He stopped by the kitchen, and Lindsey saw Mary step into the doorway and cast a glance their way. Her eyes looked grave, and Lindsey wondered what Sully had told her.
He came over to join them with a large pitcher of water and three glasses. He took a seat at the table and poured them each a glass. Beth ignored hers, but Lindsey was surprised to find that she was parched. She drank down a whole glass, and Sully refilled it.
Mary arrived a few minutes later with bowls of chowder and a basket of bread. As she unloaded, she took the empty seat at their table and studied Beth’s face.
“Are you all right, sweetie?” she asked.
Beth’s face crumpled, and she squeezed her eyes up tight. She sucked in a few deep breaths, obviously trying to pull herself together.
Mary handed her a spoon. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
The order wasn’t just for Beth. She gave Lindsey and Sully pointed stares as well. They all began to spoon up their chowder in slow measured scoops. Mary’s chowder was more of a broth with chunks of potatoes and loads of clams. It had a mild flavor of ground black pepper to it, and even though she could have sworn she couldn’t have eaten a bite, Lindsey was surprised to find herself scraping the bowl for that last bit of clam.
She felt warmed from the inside out, and her body became lethargic now that it was full and the initial shock had faded away with time and distance.
Mary, who had sat silently with them while they ate, glanced around the table as if the suspense was killing her and she just couldn’t wait any longer.
“So, is it true?” she demanded.
“I’m afraid so,” Sully said.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I never would have thought he’d be the type.”
“The type?” Beth asked with a frown. “What do you mean?”
“You know, to run off like that,” Mary said.
Now Lindsey frowned. “Mary, who are you talking about?”
“Barney Corson, of course,” she said. She glanced around the table. “What? Sully said you’d been out to one of the islands and had a bit of a shock. It wasn’t the Corsons?”
“No,” Beth said with a shake of her head. “Why would you think that?”
“Because Barney left his wife of thirty-seven years this morning,” she said. “He packed up his boat and just sailed off into the Sound.”
“Oh, no, poor Alice,” Beth said.
Lindsey said nothing. She had yet to meet Barney Corson and had only met Alice once or twice. She was a tiny lady who enjoyed Marion Chesney’s Regency romances. Lindsey wondered what possessed a man to sail off from a life of thirty-seven years with someone. No wonder the town was abuzz with the news.
“If you’re not sad about the Corsons, what did you see out there that was so shocking?” Mary asked Beth.
Sully and Lindsey exchanged a glance as if uncertain whether Beth had the stamina to answer or not.
“It was Rick,” Beth said, relieving them of the burden. “He’s dead.”
“Oh, my God!” Mary’s jaw dropped. “But who . . . how?”
“That’s what Chief Daniels and Officer Plewicki are trying to figure out,” Sully said.
“We went out there to talk to him about Beth’s book,” Lindsey said. “But when we got there, we found him . . .”
“Stabbed in the chest,” Beth said. Her voice was faint and Mary looped an arm about her shoulders and gave her a fierce squeeze.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Beth nodded but seemed incapable of saying anything more.
“Do you think we should go to the station?” Lindsey asked Sully. “Chief Daniels did say he wanted to speak to us again.”
“He’s going to be busy with the crime scene,” Sully said. “I’d say let’s get you two home, and when he wants to talk to you, he can call you in.”
Beth looked up from her half-eaten bowl of chowder. “I suppose I should call a lawyer.”
Sully gave her a measured glance. “I think that would be wise.”
CHAPTER 11
Lindsey soaked her shock-weary body in a steamy shower in the small bathroom of her third-story apartment. She and Sully had dropped Beth off at her small beach house, and then Sully had taken her home. Mercifully, it was still daylight and there was no drama unfolding at her own home. Frankly, her nerves were shot.
She left the small bathroom and wandered into her bedroom. She pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans and a chenille turtleneck sweater in a shade of ocean blue that brought out the blue in her normally hazel eyes. She toweled off her long blonde hair, letting the curls air dry.
She was restless and left her bedroom to go make a cup of tea in the kitchenette. This small but delightful kitchen was the main reason she had taken the apartment. It had a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean, with a small eating area that led into a spacious living room that boasted more windows and a small veranda that overlooked the water.
She could see the Thumb Islands off to the right. It was hard to believe she’d been out there just hours ago. She checked her phone to see if Chief Daniels had called asking to see her, but there were no messages. She wondered if she should call Beth and check on her, but she thought maybe she’d give her some time to herself to process all that had happened.
The microwave beeped, and she dunked her tea bag into the steaming water. While it steeped, she watched a seagull ride the winds coming in off of the water. He fell and rose with the ever-changing temperament of the wind, and Lindsey wondered if he did it for fun or if it was the equivalent of a bird workout to keep his wings strong.
The day, which had been so bright when it began, was becoming overcast as it closed, with a chill in the air to match. She squeezed her tea bag and added honey to the soothing chamomile. She felt the knot in her shoulders begin to ease—and then it started.
Boom. Boom. Boom. She felt her floorboards shake. She had forgotten this afternoon was practice. She took her tea and her cell phone and headed into the living room. There she grabbed her knit
ting bag and strode out of her apartment, closing the door behind her.
She wasn’t leaving the house, so she didn’t bother to lock the door. She wound her way down the stairs to the second-floor landing, where the booms became positively deafening, and continued on to the first floor. The door to Nancy’s apartment was ajar. She didn’t bother knocking because Nancy would never hear her but entered, closing the door behind her.
She crossed through the house. It was the largest of the three apartments. Nancy had a collection of delicate antiques, a small oak secretary and several spindly looking tables, interspersed with squashy sofas and armchairs upholstered in chocolate-brown suede. Oil paintings of the sea and bookshelves stuffed to bursting dominated the walls, giving the space a sense of good taste and comfortable living.
Lindsey passed through the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, down the narrow hall to the bedrooms. The very last bedroom was the master suite, where she had tucked Nancy the night before, and off of it was a glassed-in porch boasting a stunning view of the water. It was decorated with several comfy wicker chairs and lots of hanging plants.
As Lindsey pulled open the door, Nancy looked up from her seat in one of the wicker rockers and shouted, “I wondered when you’d get here!”
The screech of a guitar riff and a pounding drum solo drowned out anything Lindsey would have said in return. She sat down in the empty chair beside Nancy’s and pulled a pair of earplugs out of her knitting bag.
Once she had the plugs firmly wedged in her ears, she took out her knitting. Since her sock had turned into a hat, she had transferred the project onto one circular needle. She liked how easy it was to knit the stocking stitch on the circulars. It was a simple constant knit stitch with no need to worry about purling or cabling.
Lindsey found it soothing, and it gave her a chance to think.
Her thoughts immediately strayed to Rick Eckman’s murder. She wanted to talk to Nancy about it but didn’t want to shout over the noise of Charlie’s band. She’d wait. They usually only rehearsed for an hour because the lead singer was a bartender at Toad’s Place in New Haven and had to get to work.
She wondered how Beth was doing. She paused to pull her cell phone out of her knitting bag. She wanted to see if Beth had called, but there were no messages. She put it back and resumed her knitting. She felt Nancy watching and glanced up.
Nancy was working on a hat and scarf set for a niece of hers, but she had paused and was wearing a concerned frown, so Lindsey pointed toward the ceiling and Nancy nodded. They would talk when the band was done.
Lindsey resumed knitting. The yarn moved comfortably through her fingers as she slipped her needle into a loop, threaded yarn around the tip and pulled it through the loop, moving the yarn to the other needle. It was rhythmic, and as the hat got bigger with each round, she delighted in a feeling of accomplishment.
As her fingers worked, her thoughts strayed back to the afternoon. She had never seen a dead body that was not inside a casket before. It was disturbing. The position Rick had been sitting in made her think that he hadn’t expected what was coming. Had the person caught him unaware or was it someone he knew and trusted?
A knife in the chest seemed very metaphorical. She supposed she couldn’t really blame Chief Daniels for considering Beth a suspect, given that they had just broken up. But Beth was a children’s librarian, not a killer. Surely the chief could see that.
Thankfully, Sully had been with them and could vouch for Beth as well. Lindsey had a feeling his word meant much more to the chief than hers. Not a big surprise, considering he was a native and she was a newcomer.
Lindsey wondered when Rick had been stabbed. Had someone been to the island right before them, or had it happened the night before? She hoped for Beth’s sake that the medical examiner put the time of death long before their arrival.
She felt Nancy nudge her elbow. She glanced up. Nancy was taking out her earplugs, so Lindsey did the same.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“Looks like they’ve called it for the day.”
Sure enough, the booming bass beat and wicked guitar riffs were no more.
“I’m glad you don’t mind that Charlie’s band practices here,” Nancy said. “He drove my last tenant out after the first month.”
“No, they’re a good band,” Lindsey said. “Just really loud. And they only practice on Saturday afternoons, so that’s manageable. It gives me a chance to catch up on my knitting.”
They were quiet for a moment. Lindsey wasn’t sure how to tell her about Rick, and Nancy was plucking at the ball of yarn in her lap as if she had something to say as well.
“I . . .” they began at the same time.
“You go ahead,” Nancy said.
“No, it’ll keep. What were you going to say?”
“Oh, just that I’m dreadfully sorry about last night. I sleepwalk occasionally,” she said. Her face was slack with sadness and her usual sparkle was subdued. “Usually it’s on a night like the night . . .”
Her voice dwindled and Lindsey reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t you worry. It’s fine. I’m just glad everything turned out okay.”
“Thank you,” Nancy said. Her blue eyes sparkled again. “Now, what were you going to say when I so rudely interrupted?”
“Beth went to meet that editor today,” she said.
“How did it go? Did she love her work? I knew she would.”
“Er, well, not exactly,” Lindsey said.
“What do you mean?” Nancy said. She looked huffy, and she shoved her knitting into the basket beside her chair. “Beth is brilliant. Surely she recognized that.”
“It turns out that Rick plagiarized Beth’s book, the hamster in the library story, and it’s coming out in a book next fall,” Lindsey said.
Nancy gasped. “No!”
“I’m afraid so,” Lindsey said.
“Why that good-for-nothing, no-account . . .” Nancy began, but Lindsey interrupted. “He’s dead.”
Nancy shook her head as if Charlie’s band was still playing and surely she had heard Lindsey wrong.
“It’s true,” Lindsey said. She folded up her own knitting and slid it back into her bag. Then she told Nancy the entire story from start to finish.
When she finished, Nancy said nothing. She rose from her seat and said, “Come on, I need to process this over some peanut-butter cookies and milk.”
“Good thinking,” Lindsey said. Nancy was the best cookie baker in Briar Creek, and Lindsey was always happy to be on the receiving end of her oven’s gifts. She shouldered her knitting bag and followed.
“What do you think is going to happen next?” Nancy asked after they had polished off a short stack of cookies each.
“Chief Daniels said he wanted to talk to each of us,” Lindsey said. “So I expect to be called in sometime soon.”
“What could he possibly want to ask you?” Nancy asked. “I mean, all you did was find the body.”
“I wish I knew,” Lindsey began but was interrupted by her phone chiming in her knitting bag. She fished it out and saw that a text from Beth had just come in.
She opened the message and her heart slammed into her throat. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?”
“Beth’s been arrested.”
CHAPTER 12
It was hard to tell who jumped to their feet first, but Lindsey and Nancy raced for the door at the same time. Lindsey kept her bike on the side of the house and made to grab it, but then remembered that she had left it at the library the night before. Nancy took her arm and steered her toward the garage. Inside was a 1965 powder-blue Mustang with a white ragtop. It was her late husband’s car, and she rarely drove it, but she must have considered this an emergency.
Lindsey hustled into the passenger seat, and with a squeal of the whitewalls, Nancy backed out of the garage and out onto the road. She spun the wheel, and they headed into town. Lindsey felt her fingers dig into the armrest as they took a cu
rve at high speed. Afraid she was going to gouge the restored leather, Lindsey forced her fingers to uncurl.
Nancy hit the curb as she pulled into the narrow lot behind the small police station. They slammed their doors as they raced into the squat brick building that sat on the edge of the park a few buildings down from the library.
Lindsey yanked open the door to the building, and Nancy strode in, approaching the front desk with an almost military bearing.
“Officer Plewicki, I want to see Beth Stanley right now,” Nancy demanded.
The pretty, dark-haired officer was staffing the desk, and she glanced up in surprise at their entrance.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” Lindsey said. “I’m sorry; we’re just concerned.”
“Understood,” she said. “You can call me Emma, by the way, especially you, Nancy. Who do you think you’re fooling calling me Officer Plewicki? You’ve known me since I was in pigtails.”
“I thought that would sound more official,” Nancy said.
“It’s not necessary,” Emma said. “Beth is in the chief’s office with him and a state investigator. They’re just talking. I’m sure she’ll be out shortly.”
“So, she’s not under arrest?” Lindsey asked.
“No,” Emma said. “She’s just being questioned. In fact, I’m glad you’re here. I was about to go and pick you up in the squad car, so we can talk to you, too.”
“Did you pick up Beth?” she asked.
“Yes, why?”
Lindsey looked at Nancy. “That explains it. She must have seen the car, thought the worst and texted me.”
Nancy visibly sagged into the nearest chair. “Well, thank goodness.”
“Can you stick around for a while?” Emma asked.
“Sure,” Lindsey said. She had planned to wait for Beth anyway.
“We should have brought our knitting,” Nancy said.
“I have our book club books at the library,” Lindsey said. “I could run over and get them.”
“The Last Time I Saw Paris?” Nancy’s eyes lit up. “Go. I’ll hold them off.”
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