by Eva Gates
“What time was this?”
“Around ten thirty, Ricky says. I’m guessing, and it is just a guess, that not long after Ricky left, Stephen abandoned the table of women he was trying to charm, got the car, and went in search of me.” Conveniently for him, I’d been at Jake’s—a place Rich’s killer would know I hang out at. “Maybe he wanted to talk to me, to find out what I know, or maybe his intention all along was to threaten me.” I remembered a car following us out of the parking lot of Jake’s and out of town, then continuing on up the highway when we turned into the lighthouse laneway. Easy enough to turn around, switch off the headlights, follow us and watch us. “He saw Josie drop me off and drive away and me go inside. So he had the bright idea of trying to scare me. Did you locate the owner of the phone that called me?”
“A burner. Probably at the bottom of the Sound by now. This is good, Lucy. Very good. You’ve given me something to work with. I’m going to call your father and ask for more information about this Stephen Livingstone and then pay him a call myself to ask about his activities last night. Sometimes all I need is to make a small chink in the wall of artifice, and the whole case comes tumbling down.”
“I assume you mean the case is built up, but never mind, I get the point. Glad to be of help, Detective.”
“Where are you now, Lucy?”
“I’m home. I have no plans to go anywhere tonight. Safe as lighthouses.”
“Glad to hear it. Thanks again.”
We hung up, and I settled back with my movie while Charles snoozed on one side of me and Fluffy dreamt she was chasing rabbits on the other side. The movie was a murder mystery story with Daniel Craig as a private detective, and I found it unrealistic compared to my own experiences. About halfway through I switched it off, disturbed the animals, and got up to microwave a bag of popcorn. I then settled back on the bed, resettled the dog and cat, turned the movie back on, and made my way through the entire bowl while Daniel continued his investigation.
I was licking my fingers clean when Daniel Craig solved the mystery and the movie ended. “As if that ever happens,” I said to Charles and Fluffy.
Fluffy jumped off the bed and ran for the door. Charles went into the kitchen to check out the contents of the food bowl. I yawned and stretched. I was ready for bed, but dog duties needed to be attended to.
When I last spoke to Evangeline, she’d said nothing about coming for Fluffy and pretty much said she hoped never to see me again. The little creature was growing on me—I was becoming fond of her, and she and Charles had made friends, but I didn’t want to be stuck with Fluffy if Evangeline went home without her. I’d have to call her in the morning and arrange a time for Evangeline to pick up the dog.
I took the pink leash down from the hook by the door. Fluffy’s ears perked up, and she did a joyful little dance at my feet. I fastened the leash to her collar, told Charles we’d be right back, and let us out of the Lighthouse Aerie.
We descended the stairs, round and round and round, in the dim light from the fourth-floor landing above and the library alcove below. The library snoozed peacefully around me, and I imagined I could hear the soft breathing of the characters as they prepared for another busy day of being read on Monday.
When I moved, I’d miss this place at night. The peace. The quiet. Maybe I could convince Connor to come occasionally for a sleepover. Provided no one moved in, that is. Which reminded me that Charlene had quit and Bertie would have news to give us on Monday. Would the new academic librarian be young and single and wanting to live ten miles outside of town and four stories above the marsh? Never mind being pestered by library patrons when trying to sneak in and out of their own home. It wasn’t the life for everyone.
I opened the door to be greeted by a wall of fog so thick the lamp over the door scarcely illuminated the bottom of the steps. I switched on the small flashlight I keep fastened to my key chain. “We won’t go far tonight, Fluffy. It’s easy to get lost in this muck.”
High above us the thousand-watt bulb flashed, but the illumination barely reached the ground.
I’d take Fluffy down to the parking area and then we’d turn around and come back, sticking strictly to the path so as not to get lost in the fog and end up wandering in circles. A long walk could wait until tomorrow. Fluffy didn’t seem to mind. She did what she had to do on a patch of grass and then sniffed her way down the path next to me. We reached the parking lot and were about to turn around when her head shot up, her ears lifted, and she let out a growl, deep in her throat. I glanced at her in alarm. She pulled at the leash, continuing to growl, staring intently into the dark. The hairs along her back were standing on end. I have to admit, the hair on the back of my neck was doing the same. She growled again, the sound low and menacing and unlike anything I’d heard from the tiny lapdog before.
I tugged at the leash. She didn’t come but growled once more. “Come on, Fluffy. Nothing’s out there. Let’s go in, why don’t we?”
“Don’t hurry away on my account,” came a voice from inside the swirling mist.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stephen Livingstone stepped into the dim light thrown by my little flashlight. He held a solid Maglite in his right hand, but he’d switched it off.
My heart rate did not settle, and the hairs on the back of my neck did not relax. Fluffy lunged for him, snapping and snarling. I gripped the leash tightly. I swallowed. “Hi!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “Goodness. You scared me there. Out for a walk in the marsh, are you? Not a good night for it.” I pulled at the leash. Fluffy resisted, but I was bigger and stronger. I dragged her away, inch by protesting inch. “Still, some people like the atmosphere, or so they say. Spooky, right? Like in The Hound of the Baskervilles. I saw corpse candles in the marsh one night last October, around Halloween. It was a night much like this one, come to think of it, although a bit colder.” I shoved my free hand into my pocket. It came up empty, and I stifled a curse. I’d put my phone on the table when I got in from work.
Stephen said nothing. He simply stared at me, his eyes dark, unemotional pools in the shadows of his face.
“I’d invite you in,” I said, “but it’s late, and I’m tired. “Come on, Fluffy.”
He spoke at last, his voice low and threatening. “You really don’t know to mind your own business, do you?”
“Sure I do. I’m minding my own business right now. I’m going inside. Me and the dog. Straight to bed. This is where I live, believe it or not.”
“I know you do. I saw you at the hotel this morning, talking to Evangeline and her fat friend.”
“Yup. That was me. Evangeline’s a good friend of my mom’s.”
As I talked, I edged slowly backward. Stephen matched me, step for step. The fog shifted constantly. One moment I could see him clearly, and the next he faded into tendrils of mist. He might disappear, but I could hear his voice and feel the sheer menace emanating from him.
Fluffy continued barking. I continued backing up. I continued chatting inanely. The back of my foot touched the bottom of the stairs. I held the leash in one hand and my flashlight, focused on the ground, in the other. The mist swirled around us, but I could make out Stephen in the flash of light from high above us. The light went out, and then it came on again. I braced myself. I breathed. I was ready the moment the light went into its 22.5 second dormancy, and I turned and ran up the stairs. I grabbed for the doorknob, but at that moment Fluffy dashed for safety between, of all places, my legs. The leash wrapped around my right ankle. I stumbled and then Stephen was on me, grabbing my shoulders, pulling me away from the door. I dropped the leash and kicked, but my flailing foot met nothing but air. I screamed. Fluffy barked. Stephen’s arms were tight around my chest as he dragged me away.
“What are you doing!” I yelled. “Let me go. You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” he breathed in my ear. “You’re the one who’s made a mistake. A fatal one, I’m sorry to say.”
I kept kicking and struggling.
His grip around my upper chest was so tight I was having trouble breathing.
And then, suddenly, Stephen cried out in surprise and shock, and I was propelled forward. I managed, thank heavens, to keep my footing as well as my senses and whirled around. He’d slipped on the bottom step, damp from the mist, and fallen.
He wasn’t, unfortunately, knocked out, and he recovered quickly. His hand shot out and grabbed at my leg. I kicked as hard as I could, and I felt a satisfying jolt and heard him grunt. He started to stand up, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get the door open and shut behind me before he was on me again. I leapt off the steps and ran for the marsh. Fast, light footsteps pounded the ground behind me. Fluffy.
I switched off my flashlight. The dog barked. I tried to hush her without making any noise. It was a warm summer’s night, and I knew my way around out here. If I had to, I could stay hidden; I’d be fine until daylight, when people began to arrive. Otherwise I could try to make my way through the marsh to the highway and flag down a passing car.
But I didn’t have much chance of staying hidden with a small hysterical dog next to me.
“Lucy!” A disembodied voice drifted toward me. “I want to talk to you, that’s all. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I couldn’t see in the dark, so I stumbled, and then I grabbed you inappropriately. I’m sorry about that.”
As the mist shifted, I could see Stephen’s light moving away from the bulk of the lighthouse, coming toward me. I tried to wave Fluffy away. She would not be discouraged, so I bent down and scooped her up. I put my hand around her muzzle, and she fell quiet. She whimpered, and I stroked the back of her neck softly. I could feel the rapid beating of her small heart. Mine was going just as fast.
“I can’t stand yappy little dogs myself,” Stephen said. “I went around to Rich’s house one day to bring him some papers to sign. Evangeline was away, and I told Rich I’d strangle the miserable mutt if he wanted me to. He said thanks but no thanks.”
I slipped to my right, keeping to the soft marsh grasses. The Maglite focused straight ahead. Fluffy yipped, and the light swung around.
“My dad told Detective Watson about you,” I called into the dark. “He knows you’ve been helping Rich embezzle money from the firm. Dad’s opening the books to the police. They’ll have all the proof they need soon. You should make a run for it while you can.”
“What can I say? I’ll admit, I fell under Rich Lewiston’s influence. I mean, he was a powerful man, right? Knows all the right people, belongs to all the right clubs, has the right politicians in his pocket. I let him convince me to help him out of a couple of jams. Poor me, boy from the wrong side of the tracks, impressed by the rich and powerful. I thought I was helping the firm. If I’d known what Rich was truly up to, I would have told the senior partners. Right away.”
“You can try that story on the police, but they won’t believe you. And even if they do, that’s not much of an excuse for killing him.”
“Me? Kill Rich? Why would I do that? I was nowhere near Nags Head on Monday night. Why would I be? I called the office and told them I’d come down with a sudden cold on the weekend so I had to stay home Monday. Rich didn’t come around to my apartment Sunday evening, drunk out of his tiny, very tiny, mind to say he was going to tell Millar everything and he wasn’t going to wait until Millar got back from his daughter’s engagement party. I didn’t try to convince him not to do anything rash. I didn’t follow him when he left my place and wait outside his house to see if he really was going to go through with it.”
Now that I was no longer panicking and Stephen was no longer threatening, Fluffy had settled down. She tried to wiggle out of my arms, but when I wouldn’t let go, she let out a contented sigh and snuggled close.
“I knew Millar was in Nags Head. That was no secret. Ricky told me his mother was determined to barge in uninvited on Millar’s daughter’s engagement party and try to get her to leave her intended and marry Ricky. You might want to know, Lucy, Ricky didn’t think that was such a great idea. He came down here with his mom to try to keep her from doing anything stupid. I wasn’t watching the Lewiston house Sunday night, and I didn’t see Rich stagger out in the early hours of Monday morning, throw his suitcase into his car, and drive out of town, heading south. And, because I didn’t see that, I didn’t head for Nags Head myself. Are you still out there, Lucy? You’re probably thinking of making your way to the highway. That’s a lot of ground to cover. In the dark. Trying to be quiet. The dog’s finally stopped barking. That can’t last much longer.”
Holding Fluffy, not daring to turn on my flashlight, I picked my way carefully through the marsh grasses. The fog covered all traces of moon and stars, and I couldn’t see a blasted thing. On the other hand, that meant Stephen couldn’t see me either.
I stepped on a dead branch. It snapped with a sound as loud and sharp as a gunshot.
“Oh, you’re over there,” Stephen said, in a voice calmer and far closer than was good for me. Still, as long as he was talking, he wasn’t killing me. Clearly, he was so impressed with his own cleverness that he had to tell someone all about it.
“You’re wondering why I might have wanted Rich to die, as that would inevitably lead to an examination of his records, which would in turn incriminate me. Truth be told, Lucy, I didn’t much care if Rich lived or died, but his timing wasn’t good for me. I was taking my own time, being careful, scrubbing any traces of my involvement in some of his schemes out of the records, moving my money slowly and carefully so it couldn’t be traced. The records are mostly clean now, but I didn’t need Rich blabbing the whole story to Millar before I’m ready to take my leave of them all.
“You’re also wondering how I might have gotten Rich to the restaurant that night, if I’d wanted to that is. If I wanted to, I’d have sent him a note, asking him to meet me. No one ever said Richard Lewiston Junior was smart. I wouldn’t have been able to use my phone, didn’t want anyone tracing it. I couldn’t use a burner; he wouldn’t answer a number he didn’t recognize. I didn’t tuck the note under his windshield wipers when he was paying for gas. No need to sign it; he’d know who it was from.”
Stephen was right about one thing: it was a long way to the highway. Was the mist thinning? I feared it was. I’d soon be dreadfully exposed out here in the marsh. I needed to get to the shelter of the trees before the light of the moon broke through.
“You might be thinking it was a coincidence that I asked—didn’t ask, I mean—Rich to meet me at the same restaurant you were having dinner at. I never trust to coincidence, Lucy. I checked online to see which were the nicest restaurants near Evangeline’s hotel. The sort of places she would go to. The name Jake’s rang a bell. Ricky had said something several months ago about Millar and Suzanne going to her niece’s wedding in Nags Head. Did you know Evangeline tried to wrangle an invitation, but Suzanne was having none of it? It was a small family celebration with the reception at the fiancé’s restaurant, a place called Jake’s. Ricky got quite a hoot out of his mom being snubbed like that.
“You never know what apparently insignificant bits of information are going to be useful someday, Lucy. That’s why I never forget anything. Rich appreciated that about me. Anyway, if I wanted to kill Rich, which I didn’t, that’s the way I would have gone about it. I’d have arranged to meet him at the restaurant where his family and associates were dining. A bunch of rich, entitled people, some of them lawyers, no less, being questioned by small-town hick cops confuses the waters. If I had been involved in Rich’s nasty little schemes, I would have had a tough decision to make while I finished moving my money. Stay at the Boston office and help Millar sort through the accounts, or come back here to keep an eye on things knowing that Rich’s records are such a mess even Millar would need time to trace anything back to me. Enough idle chatter. Got you!”
A bright light shone directly into my face, blinding me. A hand reached out of the fog and seized my arm. I screamed and dropped Fluffy. The dog fell in a chorus of frightene
d barks, and I was thrown to the ground next to her.
Stephen was on me, his hands around my throat, his weight pressing me down. I scratched at his arms and tried to reach his face. He grinned down at me, his face a horrific mask in the harsh light thrown by his flashlight. I kicked and thrashed, but he didn’t let go. The pressure increased.
Connor.
I would never see the house Louise Jane had found for us.
Stephen let out a howl of pain, and his eyes opened wide in shock. I felt his body move as he kicked out at something behind him and the pressure on my throat relaxed. I sucked in a breath, gathered all the strength I could, and shoved at him. He fell to one side, and I rolled away. He didn’t try to stop me, and I scrambled to my feet.
I looked down to see Stephen lying on his back, screaming, his pant leg torn, his leg bleeding, his hands up to protect his face as Fluffy, sweet little Fluffy, lunged for his throat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I hesitated. Should I make a run for it, save myself while I had the chance, or take precious time to grab Fluffy? Stephen would soon get the upper hand, and he would kill the sharp-toothed but tiny dog in his fury.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to decide. The quiet (aside from the screaming of the man and the snarling of the dog) of the marsh was shattered by blaring sirens. Red and blue flashing lights cut through the night and the fog. Doors slammed. Men and women shouted. Flashlight beams blinded me.
I held my hands in front of my eyes and yelled, “I’m okay. I’m okay! It’s him. He killed Rich Lewiston.”
“Get it off me!” Stephen screamed. “Shoot it!”
“No! Don’t shoot. The dog saved me. Fluffy! Fluffy. Here.” I grabbed the little dog, still having a go at Stephen’s throat, by the back of her collar and pulled her away. She came without resistance, and I scooped her up.
Powerful flashlights shone on Stephen and the area around him. He lay on his back, gasping for breath. His lower pant leg was covered in blood, and more blood leaked from scratches on his throat and arms. He stared up at me, his glasses hanging off one ear, his small, dark eyes full of rage. The expression disappeared, and he said, “Thank heavens you got here in time, Officer. That dog must be rabid. It attacked me out of nowhere.”