by Blythe Baker
“And did he?” Shep asked.
Page and I looked at one another and then turned to Shep at the same time, wondering how to tell him without making him seem stupid.
“No, he didn’t,” I said. “He died…”
He just looked at us both and nodded, his facial expression not changing except for one single twitch of his mustache. “And then what happened?”
“He drove off,” I said. “He took off in his red rental car and we didn’t see him again.”
“He didn’t come back by the bed and breakfast later in the day or call you?” Shep asked.
Page shook her head. “No, we didn’t hear or see anything about him until my daughter told me she recognized him as the guy I’d argued with.”
“Katie over at the General Store had some guy come in late that same night who asked if she could float him some cigarettes and then made a phone call. You might talk to her,” I said.
Shep nodded and for the first time since we’d sat down, reached for his pen and wrote down ‘KATIE’ in large block letters on the back of what appeared to be an old receipt.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” he asked.
We told him no, and he walked us to the front door.
“If you think of anything else, be sure to let me know,” he said. “Have a good one.”
When we got back in the car, Page was sweating.
“I am so glad that’s over,” she said, wiping her palms on the back of her jeans.
I started the car and reversed onto the empty road. “It wasn’t even a big deal. We just offered up some basic information.”
“No.” Page shook her head. “We put ourselves on the radar. I can feel it. He totally suspects us.”
I laughed. “Shep wouldn’t suspect us if we showed up with the dead man’s wallet and blood on our hands. He’s clueless.”
“You don’t give him enough credit,” Page said.
“For the sake of the dead man and his family, I hope you’re right,” I said. “I hope he can find out who did this. But based on how desperate he was to get me on the case, I highly doubt he has any leads.”
“He wanted you to help him with the case?” she asked, turning to me, mouth hanging open.
“He’s asked twice now.”
“Are you going to do it?” Page asked.
I glanced at her several times, trying to decide if she was being serious. “Is this a joke or am I supposed to answer?”
“Why would it be a joke?” she asked.
I lost it. “Because you have been livid at me both times I’ve investigated a murder on this island. Why would I do it again?”
“This time is different,” she said. “We may have been the last people to see him alive. That doesn’t look good.”
“No, Katie was the last person to see him alive,” I corrected her.
“You don’t know that. She hasn’t positively identified him yet, has she? For all we know, he left our bed and breakfast and was dead five minutes later.”
Page stared out the window and I shook my head, disbelieving. This was the first time when the dead body had almost nothing to do with us or our business or our property, and now Page wanted me to get involved. Whereas, when the dead body was dug up on our property, I was supposed to stay out of it. How was a girl supposed to keep up with wonky rules like that?
Finally, Page broke the silence. “All I’m saying is that if Shep can’t solve this, you should help. We want this case closed as soon as possible so no speculation lands on us.”
I wanted to argue further and convince Page she was being irrational, that no blame would ever land on us because we were entirely innocent, but instead I swallowed my words, gripped the steering wheel tighter, and nodded my head in agreement. “Fine. If Shep can’t do it, I’ll help.”
“Thanks, Piper.”
My knuckles turned white as I turned off of Main Street and onto the long dirt road that led to the B&B. Shep needed to get his crap together and figure the case out, because I was not in the mood to solve another murder.
The first thing we heard upon entering the house was Blaire crying.
“Blaire?” Page asked, shooting a worried look at me and then following the sound of her daughter’s sobs into the sitting room.
Blaire was huddled on the couch, and Mrs. Smith had her arm around her shaking shoulders, whispering comforts into her ear.
“It will be all right, sweetie. These things have a way of working out in the end.”
Blaire shook her head and released another series of loud sobs and hiccups.
“What is going on?” Page asked.
Mrs. Smith stood up and Page took her spot, gently touching the old woman on the shoulder in silent thanks.
“Blaire, honey, what’s the matter?” she asked, leaning forward and trying to look into her daughter’s face.
Blaire shook her head.
“She wouldn’t tell me what was the matter,” Mrs. Smith whispered to me, shrugging her shoulders. “I found her all doubled over on the couch, and I couldn’t just leave her there alone.”
“I’m so sorry about this,” I said, suddenly rethinking my decision to move myself and my family into the same house we ran our business out of. Moments like this were certain to happen more often than not, especially with a teenager in the house.
Mrs. Smith waved me away and smiled. “I have two daughters. Of course, they are grown and gone now with children of their own, but the mothering instinct never really leaves you. I remember their teenage years like it was yesterday. It can be such a hard time.”
Mrs. Smith shuffled down the hallway to, no doubt, join Mr. Smith in the backyard. He’d been spending most afternoons reading on the bench under the large oak tree. I made a mental note to not begrudge them their morning pancakes, and give Mr. Smith as much syrup as his plate could hold.
I turned to find Blaire in a slightly more upright position, Page drawing the information out of her in between sobs.
“Something about Matthew?” Page asked, her face contorted into concern, though she didn’t know for what yet.
Blaire nodded. “He’s in trouble.”
“Like, grounded?”
Blaire shook her head.
“Honey, you have to stop crying and tell me what is going on,” Page said gently.
“With Shep,” Blaire blubbered. “He’s in trouble with Shep.”
“What did he do?”
She sucked in a few shaky breaths, and then, seeming to calm herself, explained.
“The dead man didn’t have a wallet, and the police were searching for it. They suspected it could have been a burglary gone bad. Well, while they were searching the marina, they found a stash of wallets in the back of Matthew’s car.”
I shot Page an ‘I told you so’ look, and she rolled her eyes. Now clearly wasn’t the time to rub my rightness in her face, but it sure did feel good. Blaire, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice.
“Shep asked if he could search his car, and Matthew agreed, and Shep recognized some of the names on the wallets. People had reported them missing.”
“Matthew stole them?” Page asked, trying to hide her severe disapproval in favor of getting the facts.
“No, Mom. No,” Blaire said, shaking her head fiercely. “He never stole them from anyone. They were delivered to the lost and found, and when no one came to claim them in a few days, he would take the cash out of them and keep them. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Page hesitated, and when she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Blaire, that is stealing. Those wallets should have been returned to their owners, money included.”
“He makes almost nothing working at the marina, even though his parents own it, and those people who store boats there are loaded anyway. They won’t miss twenty dollars. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“If it isn’t a big deal, then why are you crying?” Page asked. I could tell she was saving this argument for another time. Regardless of what Bla
ire thought, Matthew was stealing, and that was not a desirable trait for your daughter’s boyfriend to possess.
“It isn’t a big deal, but now Shep thinks that maybe Matthew has the dead guy’s wallet,” Blaire said. When neither Page nor I seemed to react the way she expected, Blaire continued. “He thinks Matthew may have robbed the guy.”
Still, Page and I stared at her, trying to understand why she was weeping.
“They think Matthew killed him!” Blaire finally said in a frustrated scream, the words sending her into another burst of sobbing.
CHAPTER 11
“That’s ridiculous,” Page said, stroking Blaire’s hair. “They can’t possibly think a teenager could kill a man just because he was caught nicking a few wallets from the lost and found. They’ll interview him and he will give his alibi, and it will all be fine.”
After seeing the wallets in Matthew’s backseat, I’d thought the worst, but the worst for me had been that he was a run of the mill pick pocket. He couldn’t be a murderer, could he?
“Right,” I said, agreeing with Page and moving to sit on the other side of Blaire. “You two are together constantly. What were you up to the night of the murder?”
Blaire’s eyes rolled back as she thought, her mind replaying the last few days, and then they shot wide. “We weren’t together.”
This revelation sent her into another bout of sobbing. She leaned forward and folded her arms on her knees, burying her face in them.
“He will be fine, Blaire. Really,” Page said, massaging Blaire’s back.
“I’ll call Shep,” I said. “He’ll tell me what is going on and I’m sure they’ve already let Matthew go.”
I moved into the entryway and dialed Shep’s number, my annoyance level rising with every unanswered ring. Finally, after nearly ten rings, Shep picked up.
“Sunrise Island Police Department, Sheriff speaking,” he said, his voice drawling out around the vowels.
“You didn’t think it was pertinent to let me know that my niece’s boyfriend was a suspect in the case?” I said, skipping any sort of introduction.
There was a pause. “Who is this?”
“Who do you think it is, Shep?” There was no way he didn’t recognize my voice by now. Or my number, for that matter. I’d called him too many times for him to play dumb.
“It wasn’t any of your business, Piper. You said you didn’t want to help with the investigation.”
“I don’t want to work the investigation,” I said. “There is a difference. You could have told me someone close to me was a suspect so I could try and clear their name.”
“I didn’t realize Matthew was close to you, and I’m the Sheriff. I’m the one who clears people,” Shep said, sounding exhausted. “You gave me what little information you had, and I’m grateful, but if you aren’t going to assist on the case, then I’m afraid I really must be going. Lots to do here.”
“Like wrongfully arrest teenagers?” I shot back.
He sighed. “Goodbye, Piper.”
I hung up feeling useless. It was unusual being on the other side of the investigations. Although I didn’t want to put myself in the middle of yet another murder case, I also liked knowing what was going on. I liked being in front of the island gossip, and it would be a large adjustment learning about the latest developments from the mailman or Katie when I picked something up from the General Store.
“What did he say?” Page asked, poking her head out of the sitting room.
I shrugged. “Nothing, really. He basically told me not to bother him.”
“Dang it. I was hoping you’d have something to make Blaire feel better. She is certain Matthew is going to be charged with murder, and I can’t seem to convince her otherwise.”
“It will all blow over, though. They’ll find a new lead and forget about Matthew,” I said.
Page nodded. “I know, but that doesn’t help me right now. I’m supposed to meet Jude at the Marina for another date, but I can’t leave Blaire like this.”
“Another date?” I wagged my eyebrows at her flirtatiously. “You two are pretty serious.”
Page blushed, but otherwise ignored me. “It doesn’t matter if my daughter is a sobbing mess.”
I waved away her concern. “I’ll be here, and who knows how long Jude will be in town. You have to make the most of it while you can.”
“Are you sure?” Page asked, looking over her shoulder at the shaking ball that was her daughter and then back to me, her eyes wary.
“I’ve been babysitting Blaire since she was a baby. She used to cry over a poopy diaper and now she cries over her boyfriend being arrested. It’s new, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Are you sure?”
I rolled my eyes. “You already asked me that. Yes, I’m sure. Absolutely positive. I’ve got this. Go on your date.”
Page’s face lit up. “Okay! I’ll tell Blaire goodbye and then I’ve got to get going. I’m going to be ten minutes late as it is.”
“Hurry,” I said, shooing her along. “We’ll be fine.”
By the time Page said goodbye to Blaire, changed into jeans and a flowy white blouse, and reversed down the driveway, Blaire was sitting up on the couch and crying. Sure, she was still upset, but at least she was vertical. Progress.
The rest of the evening was spent watching anything on tv that didn’t remind Blaire of murder or violence or romance, which left us with the Golf channel and QVC. We spent half an hour being sold birthstone rings that were buy one get one half off, which made no sense to me since people only have one birthday. They would either have to buy two rings with the same birthstone or buy one for themselves and one for someone else. I brought this point up to Blaire, but she seemed to ignore me.
Mason called me once and asked if I was free, but I explained the situation with Matthew and Blaire and we agreed to try and see each other another night. He had no interest in spending his evening with an emotional teenage girl. More and more it felt as though we’d never find time to hang out again. Something always came up.
Headlights moved up the driveway, splashing through the window and dousing the dark sitting room in glaring light. Blaire rolled over and covered her eyes as though she were a vampire. I looked through the window and saw Page’s car.
“It’s your mom,” I said, patting her leg. “At least sit up so she doesn’t think I just sat here and let you veg on television all night.”
“But you did let me sit here and veg on television all night,” Blaire said.
I hit her leg a bit harder. “But your mother doesn’t need to know that. Sit up!”
Blaire had reluctantly lifted herself to a half-reclined position by the time Page unlocked and opened the front door, which I figured was good enough.
“How was the date?” I glanced at the clock and saw that it was only 8 PM. “It didn’t last long.”
“It didn’t last at all,” she said, shoving her keys into her purse and roughly snapping it closed.
“What do you mean?”
“He stood me up!” Page shouted.
Suddenly full of energy, Blaire sat up, her eyes narrowed. “How could he have stood you up? Isn’t he staying at our bed and breakfast?”
“I don’t know anymore. His car isn’t in the lot and he isn’t answering his phone.” Page shrugged and flopped down onto the couch next to Blaire. “I sat on his boat for an hour and a half just hoping he’d show up with some magnificent excuse. I feel like such an idiot.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “He should feel like the idiot. He stood up a magnificent woman. He is the one who should feel stupid, not you.”
Page lowered her head, her dark hair spilling over her eyes. “He never paid for his room. He was probably only using me to get a few nights for free before he bailed. I doubt he ever even liked me. It didn’t make any sense anyway.”
“That guy is worthless,” Blaire said, her outrage making her momentarily forget about her own relationship problems. “H
e wasn’t even that handsome.”
Page grimaced and nodded weakly, but I could tell she didn’t really agree with her daughter, she was just trying to put on a brave face.
“Blaire,” I said. “Why don’t you go make some tea.”
“Tea?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “Are we grandmas? What about coffee?”
“Decaf,” I said.
Blaire winked at me and trotted off to the kitchen.
“There has to be an explanation,” I said, dragging Page to the couch by the arm. “He was totally into you.”
Page rolled her eyes, and now that I was closer, I could tell she’d been crying. I was going to punch Jude square in the face next time I saw him. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Page cry, so he had seriously hurt her. “He was totally into the idea of getting a few nights in a nice bed and breakfast for free. I was scammed.”
“You two already went on one date,” I reminded her. “Why would he have done that if he wasn’t interested at all?”
“To string me along! To buy himself some extra time to finish his business and get out,” she suggested.
Clearly Page was too emotional to think rationally. This wouldn’t be sorted out until we tracked down Jude and confronted him.
“What was his business on the island, anyway?” I asked. “He never really made it clear.”
Page shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t think he said…oh no…”
“What?” I asked, a nervous energy tingling up my spine.
“He didn’t give me any personal details about himself. He let me do all of the talking. Every time I asked him a personal question he would deflect and turn the conversation towards me,” she said, her voice high and flustered. “I didn’t manage to learn a single detail about him aside from his name.”
“If Jude Lawton is his real name,” I said, half-joking.
Page, however, didn’t find it very funny. “Do you think he lied about his name, too?”
I held up my hands. “Okay, slow down. I was joking. I’m sure he told you his real name, and I’m sure it isn’t a big deal that he didn’t talk about his business.”