Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries)

by Karen MacInerney

  The thought that I could be wrong flitted into my head, but I decided to banish that until I knew one way or the other.

  There was a person in the kitchen, but the leaves of the rose bushes obscured my view. I moved around a bit, hoping to get a better view, but between the filmy lace curtains and the roses, I couldn’t get a clear line of sight.

  There was a garden gate, though, flanked by hydrangeas and white roses. If I could get a little way farther into the yard—I spotted a rose bush that would make a good vantage point—I’d get a better look.

  I crept up to the gate and pushed it open. There was a small beeping sound, like a cardinal chirping, as I closed it behind me and scuttled into the yard, positioning myself behind a rose bush. The person in the kitchen disappeared for a moment. Then there was the squeak of a door, and a woman’s voice said, “I don’t know who you are, but I’ve got a gun.”

  twenty-three

  I recognized her immediately. Elizabeth Abingdon—Turtle, to her friends. The woman I had seen crying by the blueberry patch the morning Derek Morton turned up dead. The woman who had been in Derek’s house the day I was there. The woman who had been seeing Derek secretly—and possibly gotten pregnant by him. She held what looked like a shotgun in her hands and was staring at me from wide brown eyes. She was a pretty woman—or would have been, in different circumstances.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said lightly. “Your roses were so beautiful, I thought I’d take a closer look.” Lame, I know. But it’s tough coming up with reasonable excuses on short notice. Particularly when someone’s pointing a shotgun at you. “Would you mind, uh, putting away the gun?”

  She didn’t lower it a millimeter. “That’s not why you’re here.”

  I pasted on a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Did I set off some kind of motion detector?” I asked, still trying to sound casual.

  She didn’t answer.

  I struggled to keep my voice conversational, which was a challenge with a gun pointing at my head. “I hear you’re expecting your first child. I can understand your desire to be safe. Your garden is gorgeous, by the way.”

  “What do you know about Derek and me?” Her voice quivered, and she bent over a little bit, as if the name hurt her.

  “He’s your nephew.”

  “He was.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You saw me that morning. You were out with a coffee can.”

  “What morning?” I swallowed. “Oh. The other day, when I was picking berries?”

  “You know what morning,” she said, looking scared. “When he died.” She glanced around the back yard. “In the house. Now.”

  With my hands still up, I walked up the path to the back of the house and into the kitchen, with Elizabeth behind me. The door shutting behind me reminded me of a coffin lid slamming shut. Thank God, Catherine had told me she’d call the police. I glanced at the clock on the wall; I had thirty minutes to stall. Why had I been such an idiot and gone through the stupid gate?

  “Sit down,” she said, pointing me toward a white painted chair. It was stenciled with blue and red designs that went well with the tile backsplash, which was white with blue windmills. It was not what you’d expect from a murderer’s kitchen. “How did you figure it out?”

  I glanced at the clock. Twenty-nine minutes to go. “You must have had a challenging relationship with your nephew,” I said slowly. “His death must be very upsetting to you.”

  She sank down into a chair across from me. She was still holding the gun in one hand, but the barrel pointed toward the floor now. The other arm curled around her stomach. “Yes,” she said in a hollow voice. Her eyes were ringed with shadows. “He was a bad man. That’s why Jeff sent him away the first time. I didn’t understand it then … but he was right.”

  “Did your husband find out that you and Derek were lovers?”

  She was silent for a moment, as if she were wavering. Finally, she nodded. “He suspected, but he didn’t know.” She looked at the floor.

  “And Derek came back to be with you,” I said. “He must have really cared for you.”

  “I thought so,” she said, eyes welling up with tears. She dabbed at them with her apron, but still kept one hand on the gun. “But he was seeing that other girl. And then …” She took a gasping sob. “He turned on me.”

  “He’s the father of your baby, isn’t he?” I asked gently.

  “Yes.” Her voice was soft and ragged.

  “And he was threatening to tell your husband,” I guessed. When she didn’t contradict me, I continued. “Was he blackmailing you?”

  “Yes.” The words sounded like they’d been torn out of her, and her hand went to her stomach as if she were in pain. “He told me he’d tell Jeff everything about us. Tell him he was the father of the baby.” Tears streaked down her face as she clutched at her stomach. “It would have killed Jeff. He would have killed me, maybe.” She glanced over her shoulder. There was a gun cabinet in the mudroom, right behind the kitchen.

  “You asked to meet him, didn’t you?” I asked. “Where was your special place?”

  “By the blueberry field,” she said. “There was an old house back in there.” She sniffed. “His house was too close to the pier. I was afraid Jeff would find us here, so we had another place.”

  “Did you plan to kill him?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why I took the gun. I guess maybe I had a feeling I might need it, but I thought I could talk sense into him. I thought he’d care enough about me to let me go.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “He wanted more money, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” It was a whisper. “And if I gave it to him, we’d be broke. Jeff would find out. I’d have to tell him. And then I’d lose everything. My husband, my baby’s future … my home.” She burst into tears.

  “How did it happen?” I asked gently.

  “He started toward me. He was angry. Called me a … a stupid bitch. And I just … the gun went off in my hand, and he was dead.”

  “Why did you put him in the skiff?”

  “I was afraid,” she said in a small voice. “I was hoping it would drift out to sea, and no one would find him.”

  “Why Adam’s skiff?”

  “I knew where it was,” she said. “And Derek had the key with him still; he had a copy made. I went and got the skiff and then put him in it. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “And the gun?”

  “I put it in that slut’s trash can,” she said, her voice sharp for the first time.

  “Tania’s, you mean,” I clarified. She nodded. “Did you call in the tip, too?”

  Her brows knitted in confusion. “What tip?”

  “Someone called and said she had drugs. That wasn’t you?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. Then she seemed to take stock of the situation, and raised the gun. “Now you know everything,” she said. “But you’re going to tell.” She bent over again, as if she were in pain. She cried out and doubled over, and the gun dropped to the floor.

  Her dress was stained with blood, and a small puddle was forming at the bottom of the chair.

  “Elizabeth,” I said, leaping up from my chair to catch her before she keeled over.

  “The baby,” she wailed.

  “Lie down,” I said, easing her to the floor. “I’m going to call emergency services.” I pushed the gun away with my toe, sending it skittering across the kitchen floor.

  “But if Jeff finds out …”

  “All that matters right now is that you’re okay,” I said, tucking a chair pillow under her head and then reaching for the phone.

  _____

  I’d been sitting beside Elizabeth for fifteen minutes, holding her hand and stroking her forehead, when the front door opened. A man’s voice called out, “Turtle?”

  “In here,” I called.

  He stopped short in the doorway to the kitchen, and his ruddy face paled. “O
h, Turtle …” He crossed the kitchen floor in three short steps. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid it may be a miscarriage,” I said, and he looked as if I’d punched him. “Emergency services are on their way.”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “And why is the shotgun out?”

  “It’s not important now,” I said.

  “Jeff,” Elizabeth said. “I’m a terrible wife. You never should have married me.”

  “Hush now,” he told her. “Don’t say another word. Just take care of our baby.”

  She convulsed again at his words, and he looked at me helplessly.

  “All we can do is keep her calm,” I said. “They’re on their way.”

  We sat on the kitchen floor together, Elizabeth sobbing, Jeff stroking her head and comforting her, until the paramedics arrived.

  _____

  “They found an empty spot in one of the gun cases,” John said, “and Jeff Abingdon identified the gun.”

  “So Tania’s free to go?”

  “She will be shortly,” he said. Charlene slumped into one of my kitchen chairs, relieved. “I’d say that calls for a brownie.” The sun shone through the windowpanes, making her caramel-streaked hair glow.

  I’d called Catherine while we were waiting for the paramedics to come, and John had raced home as soon as his mother had gotten in touch with him. Charlene had come over shortly afterward, and we’d sat in the kitchen, eating muffins and waiting for news ever since. Brad had popped in from time to time, but Catherine had asked him to water the flowers in the back yard, and we could see him happily filling the watering can and taking it from window box to window box.

  “What about the baby?” I asked.

  John shook his head. “I’m afraid she’s lost it.”

  “Poor thing.” I looked out the window toward the mainland. “Does Jeff know it’s not his yet?”

  “I think so,” he told me. “It’s got to be a terrible day for him.”

  I sighed. “You were right, Charlene. Derek really was bad news. He got his aunt pregnant, and then blackmailed her to keep it quiet.”

  “Very chivalrous,” Catherine observed, adjusting her pearls around her neck. “Murray would never do that.”

  Charlene licked a crumb from her finger. “Thank God Tania didn’t get pregnant. It’s bad enough that she’s in jail.” She looked at John. “When can I go and get her?”

  “They’ll call as soon as she’s cleared,” he told her. “I’ll go over with you; I’m so relieved she’s going to be freed.”

  “Will she be? Elizabeth—Turtle—confessed to me, but what do they have for evidence?”

  “She might confess on her own,” John told me. “And there’s a good chance we’ll find her fingerprints at Derek’s house—and on Adam’s dinghy. Why did she take Adam’s dinghy, anyway?”

  “Because Derek had a copy of the key,” I said.

  “That makes sense. There’s one more outstanding question, though.”

  Charlene looked up at him. “What?”

  “Who called in the tip on Tania? I mean, if it wasn’t Turtle, who was it?”

  John leaned back in his chair. “Someone else who had a grudge against her?”

  A light clicked on in my head. “I know who had a grudge against her. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts it was Ingrid who made that call. I heard her telling Evan she was a bad influence, and I think she wanted to get rid of her.”

  Charlene perked up. “That makes sense. And it was just bad luck that the gun was there.”

  “Not entirely bad luck,” I pointed out. “I think Turtle was jealous of Tania.”

  “Jealous because Tania was dating her bum of a nephew?”

  “Love makes people do strange things,” I said.

  “But she didn’t want to leave her husband,” John said. “She was willing to kill Derek to keep that from happening.” He shook his head. “She must have loved them both, somehow.”

  “I hope he’s able to forgive her.” I took a bite of muffin. “He was the one who wrote the note threatening Derek. He told me that was what he and Derek had an argument about.”

  “So it wasn’t just about a lobster license.”

  “Apparently not. I wonder about Evan, though. He’s got prior convictions for drugs.” I took a bite of muffin. “Did Zeke turn him in?”

  John shook his head. “He said he just worked around the farm. It depends on whether or not Fred decides to give him away. I haven’t heard anything about it yet.”

  Catherine crossed her legs and brushed a crumb off of her pants leg. “Fred? I thought he’d had a heart attack and couldn’t speak.”

  “He came to this morning,” John said. “The police offered to reduce his sentence if he’ll help them crack the drug ring, and he agreed. They found the skiff that rammed yours at his property, by the way.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “I’m hoping he’ll be the key they need to break up the ring. Marijuana’s one thing, but they were transporting some dangerous drugs like heroin and cocaine.” John sighed. “He confirmed that Derek’s the one who was dealing to kids at the school.”

  “I figured as much.” I glanced at my watch. “I hope they let Tania out this afternoon.”

  “She’ll still have to answer to the drug charge,” John warned me, “but it shouldn’t be too serious, and I hope it will teach her a lesson.”

  I sighed. “I hope she’s back for tomorrow, at least. Adam’s picking Gwen up in a few hours; she’ll be here for dinner.” I looked at John. “Any word on Zeke?”

  “He was cooperating with the police. He may be able to get a reduced sentence if he testifies.”

  “What’s he looking at, anyway?”

  “Maximum sentence is ten years and $20,000,” he said.

  “Better than I expected, but it won’t help Brad.” I tucked two muffin pans into the oven. “If you get a chance to talk to him, tell him we’ll take care of Brad until he has things figured out, okay?”

  “Of course,” John said.

  Catherine took a sip of tea. “I’m so glad all this got wrapped up before Gwen arrived,” she said. “Are your plans still a go for the weekend?”

  I was about to answer her when there was a knock at the kitchen door, and Beryl peeked through.

  “Hi, Beryl. Everything okay?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we just got back from talking with Matilda, and she’s got the most exciting news,” Beryl said. “We were going to wait until dinner to share, but we decided we just couldn’t.”

  “Come on in,” I offered, and she and Agnes trooped into the kitchen. “Have a muffin and join us.”

  “Oh, thanks so much,” Agnes said, reaching for the plate.

  “What did you find out?” I asked.

  “Well,” Beryl said, “Matilda has a friend who specializes in the Prohibition era, and she just called her this morning.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “It turns out there was a rum runner in Nova Scotia who was known for transporting whiskey over the border to Maine. He had a whole network of people to smuggle his wares, and was ruthless with people who tried to cut him out of their distribution networks.”

  “She thinks that’s who your grandfather’s contact was??” I asked.

  Beryl nodded. “Guess what his nickname was?”

  “What?”

  “The Bishop,” Agnes said.

  twenty-four

  Saturday dawned clear and bright, and I felt a frisson of excitement as I leaned over and kissed John. “You ready?” I asked.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years,” he said, kissing me back. He released me and gazed at me. “I guess you’re going to want me to head down to the carriage house for a while, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “It won’t be long, though.”

  He glanced at the clock. “Four hours.” He kissed me again, then said, “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

  I shooed him out a
nyway, and headed downstairs for a cup of coffee and a piece of toast. My stomach was too jittery to eat anything else.

  Charlene arrived just as I finished the last swig of my coffee, bumping down the drive in her old truck. “Where’s Gwen?” she asked as she swept into the kitchen on a cloud of orange blossom perfume.

  “Still asleep, I’m guessing,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes and set her makeup bag on the counter. “If she’s not up in an hour, I’m going in and getting her. Now, before I begin; do you have coffee, and maybe something to nosh on?”

  I laughed and pointed her in the direction of the apple dumplings I’d made for Gwen as I poured her a cup of coffee. When she was armed with a dumpling in each hand, she looked at me. “Time to head upstairs,” she announced. “We’ve got work to do.”

  _____

  It was eleven o’clock by the time Charlene was finished with me, and when I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My bobbed hair had been smoothed and sleeked, my eyes seemed bigger, and my face somehow … more sculpted. The dress, a simple silk gown, still fit. It was a far cry from my normal T-shirt and jeans.

  “Wow,” I said.

  Charlene grinned. “You clean up pretty well, my dear. I can’t wait to see the look on John’s face!” She glanced at her watch. “Ready?”

  “I think I am, but I’m worried. Did Emmeline get the cake together?”

  “I talked with her this morning, and she was on her way to the church. I think everyone on the island has made something for the reception, and the band stayed at Tom’s last night.” She glanced down at my shoes. “I hope you can dance in those!”

  I laughed. “What about the flowers?”

  “Everyone’s brought what the goats haven’t eaten, and Claudette’s been making arrangements in the Fellowship Hall. Your bouquet will be waiting at the church, and one of the photographers from the Daily Mail will be recording it all for posterity.” She grinned. “Welcome to weddings island style.”