“Um, about 8:00,” I said.
“Did you return to the building for any reason after 8:00?”
“No.”
“Did you go directly to your grandparents’?”
I folded my arms over my chest, feeling my defenses starting to rumble inside of me. “No, I went to the boardwalk, hung out there for the fireworks. I got to their house around 10:00.”
“Anyone see you?”
“Lots of people saw me,” I said, nervous acids popping and churning inside me. I spat out my answer in a stream of thoughts as they came to me, without filtering. “Spoke to Uncle Clark about running an ad in the paper, too expensive. Got a very high-browed hello from Aunt Clara. Saw my grandparents there. Spent most of my time with Mike Ancellotti. He said I was beautiful. Even asked me out, though I’m not so sure that was a good idea, saying yes to the date. Teague saw me there.” I looked up from my rambling to see that both men were staring at me (Hester Prynne came to mind again). I took a deep breath. “You know, I’m not so sure I-”
“Did you hear any noises or notice anything strange when you arrived this morning?” he went on. With a small flashlight, Teague peered under the seats. I winced to think of how long it had been since I’d given the Jeep a good cleaning.
“Blood on the window. The light was on,” I replied.
“How did you find the door when you arrived?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “It was locked. That’s strange, isn’t it? The killer must’ve left by the back door, right?”
“Unless the killer had a key. Does anyone have a key aside from yourself?”
“My great-uncle, Joe Duffy. He owns the building,” I answered. “Probably Candy Carver.”
“Aside from touching the body and letting your dog run through the blood pool, did you disturb anything else in the room?” he asked. My eyes squinted.
“I didn’t let Willie run around willy-nilly,” I defended. “And I didn’t mean that to be a pun because of Willie the dog and the use of the word willy. Ugh! I didn’t expect there to be a dead body in my store! He just managed to get in the door before I did and it was shocking.” I huffed. “I touched the door to unlock it. That’s it. Once I knew for sure that he was dead, I called Teague and waited outside.” I clamped my lips together, tightly.
Lewis closed his notebook. “Okay, Ms. Duffy. That’s all I need right now. The building will be off limits for at least a few days, maybe longer-”
“What?” I demanded.
“To preserve the integrity of the crime scene,” he explained. “Standard procedure.” Teague circled behind the Jeep to open the back.
“Holy Moses!” I exclaimed. “This sucks! I mean, I feel very sorry about what’s happened here, and I’m all about cooperating, but damn. I’ve got to get this store open! Oh, God, I don’t think it can get any worse!”
“Lewis, I have something,” Teague said over his shoulder. I looked up from my hissy fit to see that Teague was holding a gun by his gloved fingertips. “It was jammed behind the tire.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tsunamis
“My tire?” I exclaimed. Teague nodded. My heart pounded, double-time. “That’s not mine!”
“Ms. Duffy, you’re going to have to come down to the station for further questioning,” Lewis said. His beady eyes perked up. “Is that a Beretta?”
Detective Lewis edged over to Teague and admired the weapon. Another associate bagged the evidence. I leaned against the brick wall, trying to steady my heartbeats. Deep breaths. Stay calm.
“I’ll take Willie over to Betty’s house,” Teague said, gently taking the leash from my hands. “You’ll be fine. Just tell the truth. You’ll be out of there before dinner.”
I couldn’t think. “Is he arresting me?” I whispered to Teague.
“No, just asking questions,” he replied. “He doesn’t have anything to hold you on.” A tear slipped down my face. I swiped it away. A tsunami of fear fell over me. I could hardly contain the emotions starting to spill out. My hands were clammy and shaking. I felt faint.
The other officers continued to fiddle with the gun like a new toy. Teague moved in closer, barely six inches from my face.
“Delilah, this is just a mistake,” he said, his face calm, “their mistake. Let them have some time to get the information they need, so they can find this boy’s real killer. You can do this. It’ll be alright.” I took a deep breath and nodded weakly.
The thing about tsunamis isn’t just their force and destruction on coastlines. Tsunamis are unpredictable (in real life and in my nightmares). Weather conditions have to be favorable for tornadoes. Even hurricanes have a season, albeit long, and forecasters can see them coming from hundreds of miles away. Earthquakes come closest to being sneaky, but even they have fault lines and tremors and seismic activity that can be measured. Tsunamis just happen, and I feared that this one would barrel me over.
Detective Lewis’ office was a gray cubicle in a field of gray cubicles, though some were decorated with children’s pictures, calendars, and posters. Detective Lewis’ walls were all gray, except for a few post-it notes. A miniature cactus sat by his computer. I could almost hear it sighing from boredom.
He pointed to a chair next to his desk and I took a seat. My skin prickled from the cool air and icy situation. Lewis’ mustache twitched. He started off by asking me for general information. Full name. Address. Phone number. Birth date. Maybe Teague was right, that I simply needed to give him information so he could move on to the next suspect.
“So, where do you hail from, Ms. Duffy?” he asked, almost conversationally. “What’s your last known address?” I recited the address of my former apartment in Durham.
“Leave any dead bodies behind in Durham?” he said stoically. My mouth fell open, and a look of half-disgust and half-surprise swept over my face.
“No,” I answered curtly.
“Tell me about the gun.”
“It’s not mine.”
“Are you certain?” he replied.
“I am certain that I don’t own a gun.”
“Then, how do you suppose it ended up in your vehicle?” he asked, tapping his pencil against the table.
I shrugged. “Anyone could have slipped it in there.”
“You said that you knew the victim,” Lewis noted, referring to his leather book. “Were you intimate?”
“No!” I shot back. “I said that I didn’t really know him. He worked for Damon on the apartment. I certainly didn’t know him, know him. I’ve only ever seen him like three or four times in my life.”
“He had to have gotten into the building somehow,” Lewis pointed out. “Maybe you let him in before leaving for the fireworks?”
“No, I did not,” I insisted. “When I left, no one was in the building that I know of. I turned out the lights, locked the door, and left-”
“In the Jeep?”
“Yes, in the Jeep, which I then parked down by the boardwalk, easy access for anyone to plant anything, by the way,” I pointed out. I wanted him to write that down, but he didn’t give me the satisfaction.
“Did you see anyone around your vehicle?” he asked.
“No.”
“Was anyone with you the entire time at the boardwalk?” he asked.
I sighed. “Just Willie, my dog.”
“You know, Mr. Chambers was only twenty-one,” Detective Lewis revealed. “That’s just a few years younger than you.” I was about to praise him for his math skills, but he continued, “You said you had a few interactions with him over the last week?”
I went on to explain all of my previous encounters with Darryl Chambers. “The last thing he said to me was that he was going to get the light finished before the grand opening, but he didn’t, not before I left.”
“Did you question him about why he hadn’t gotten the work done?” Lewis asked, fiddling with his mustache.
“No,” I answered. “Sometime around 6:00 I stopped hearing work being done upstai
rs, so I assume that’s when everyone left. I didn’t go up to investigate. I didn’t even give the light a second thought. I had other things to get ready for the opening.”
“Any valuables in the store?” he went on.
“A zippered money pouch in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet in the office,” I said, and with a sudden shock asked, “Is it still there? Oh, my gosh, I hope I wasn’t robbed, too.”
“We’ll check for it. Anything else of value?”
“Just books. I don’t have much.”
Lewis handed me a few forms to fill out and left me there in paperwork. With a sigh, I rehashed again, on paper, the events of the last twenty-four hours. When Lewis didn’t return quickly, I asked an officer at the next cubicle for the ladies’ room.
I blotted my face with cool water. Despite my good night of sleep, the mirror revealed an exhausted woman. I hadn’t done anything, but felt drained. Still, Teague had been right. This wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be. The tsunami ended up being just a hiccup, at least that’s what I thought. Then, I reached in my pocket.
Chapter Nineteen
Sand Dollars
A live sand dollar is much different than one you’d buy as a knick-knack in a beach store. Live ones are never white, for one thing. They’re blue or gray or even purple. Another difference is that when they’re alive, they have fuzzy bottoms covered in spines. These spines keep them mobile on the sea floor. Like turtles, they don’t move fast, and they get pushed around a lot because they’re such lightweights. Sand dollars have been known to pack on weight by eating sand on purpose, just to get some leverage. White sand dollars that wash up on shore and become treasures are merely skeletons… beautiful skeletons.
One of those beautiful skeletons was still in my pocket. I’d stolen evidence from a crime scene!
Cringing, I pulled the sand dollar from my pocket, and eyed it like a ticket on my windshield. I’d made another huge mistake.
Aside from the blood that had stained one side of it, the sand dollar was quite beautiful. The painting was more detailed and delicate than I originally noticed. Orange and yellow hues birthed an incredible sunset scene over a bluish, gray seascape. A black silhouette stood staring at the sea. In the bottom corner, three black dots formed an upside down triangle. Though they didn’t seem to fit with the picture, they weren’t mistakes. They meant something. Across the bottom, delicate brush strokes spelled out, “For God so loved the world… John 3:16.”
A knock on the door made me jump. I dropped the sand dollar and it slid into the sink.
“Ms. Duffy? Are you in there?” Lewis demanded.
“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute,” I shot back. I picked up the treasure, wiped off the excess water, and shoved it back in my pocket. I had to tell Detective Lewis. I took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom.
Lewis tapped his pencil against a file on the desk as I came around the cubicle. I took my seat and slid the completed forms over to him. He didn’t seem to notice. I opened my mouth to confess, but he stopped me.
“I’ve been told that your move to Tipee isn’t without controversy, Ms. Duffy,” he started. My eyes squinted. “Why did you come here, exactly?”
“I have family here, and my great-uncle Joe made me a great job offer,” I said, robotically.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not the real story. You were a high school teacher?”
“Yes.”
“How come you aren’t teaching any longer?”
“Wanted a change,” I said.
“Ms. Duffy, isn’t it strange for a young person like yourself to suddenly switch careers like that?” he said, a hint of a smile edging up on his mouth.
“I wouldn’t know,” I replied. “I don’t study people my age.”
“Were you fired from your teaching position?” he asked bluntly.
“My contract wasn’t renewed.”
“So, yes.” he answered for me. “On what grounds?”
I took a deep breath. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Ms. Duffy, a murder has occurred at your residence. The murder weapon was found in your vehicle. I can ask whatever I want. Let me decide if one has anything to do with the other.”
“I can promise you that it doesn’t,” I said. “And that should be good enough.”
“How long did you work for that school?” he asked.
“Seven years.”
“You must’ve done something very bad,” he mused, almost smiling. “Did it involve younger men, Ms. Duffy?”
“That’s a disgusting insinuation,” I retorted. “I’m not going to answer these questions.”
He grinned. “I thought you might feel that way.” He reached for the file under his pencil and took out a picture.
Jonathan had taken it. I was on the bed wearing a rather skimpy, black negligee. I was giving Jonathan a ‘come hither’ look, the only look I know after a few wretched glasses of wine. A handful of my disgruntled students had mysteriously gotten a hold of that picture and posted it everywhere.
The anvil meant for the road runner had just been dropped on my head, at least, that’s what it felt like. I’d lived under the illusion that I’d successfully hunted all the pictures down, eradicated them all from cyberspace existence.
“This is you, isn’t it?” Lewis asked. The anger and humiliation that had long been simmering in me started to boil.
“You know it is.”
“How did this picture end up on an eighteen-year-old’s blog?” he pushed.
“Not the way you’re inferring.” I folded my arms across my chest.
“The young man wrote, ‘Ms. Duffy will knock your socks off.’ What does that mean?” Lewis grinned. I sneered.
“I never did anything inappropriate with a student,” I said, severely agitated.
“Then, how did he get this picture? Why did he write that?” He prodded. I remained silent. “I bet you got yourself fired by getting involved with one of your students, who snapped this picture and bragged about your indiscretions. Then, you came here to Tipee to escape your sordid past. So, when did Chambers get involved?”
I stared at Detective Lewis through squinting eyes and furrowed brow.
“I have nothing to do with Darryl Chambers.” I pushed the sand dollar deeper into my pocket.
“I’m going to talk to your former employers,” he warned.
“Go ahead,” I returned, anger spilling over. “But, you’re wasting your time. You should be finding out all you can about Darryl Chambers or looking into my strange vandalism cases and the message written on my wall. This community is full of people out to destroy my business. What about them?”
“Ms. Duffy, I know what I’m doing. We’re going to investigate all leads,” he recited.
“Really? Have you had a lot of murder cases in Tipee?” I shot back.
His mustache twitched. “An investigation is an investigation.”
“Right, I thought not,” I said, and then I remembered what Teague had said to me. “Well, you have no reason to hold me. I’ve given you all the information I can, and I’ve been insulted in the process. I’m leaving.”
The king seahorse promenaded me out of the precinct, into the hot summer air again, which was a relief.
Chapter Twenty
Hagfish
A hagfish is as unappealing as its name suggests. These snake-like bottom-dwellers feed on the dead. They are blind, but can smell rot and are attracted to it. The hagfish can literally tie itself into knots to gain leverage and better service its appetite, and from it, mucus secretes to ward off other scavengers.
I found myself in a den of hagfish.
“I hate when this happens!” Clark yelled. “Damn paper comes out twice a week and the story of the decade happens on Saturday! I have to wait four days to report it! Shawsburg’s going to scoop me on a murder!”
“Calm down, son,” Grandpa Charlie consoled while he manned the grill.
“This is just
God’s way of ending this family squabble,” Clara cooed, sipping her Mojito and fanning herself with her hat.
“Well, God didn’t kill ‘em,” Betty lashed back.
“At least,” Clark began, taking a deep breath, “I have an inside man on this. I can get the real story with all the glorious trimmings, right Delilah?”
I glanced up. I sat in the chaise lounge on the back deck with Willie snuggled at my feet, even though it was steamy hot outside. My glass of water sweated into my lap until my shorts were wet, but I hardly noticed. My hand still held the sand dollar in my pocket.
“What?” I asked.
Clark rolled his eyes and walked over to my chair. “You’ll give me some of the details, right? Tell me what you saw?”
Tears welled in my eyes, again. I’d walked home from the police station, just in time to start greeting guests for the Duffy’s weekly get-together and my emotions had been yo-yo-ing. The more I thought about what I had seen, the more upset I became.
“Leave her alone, Clark,” Mamma Rose instructed. “She’s weary to the bone.”
“That Chambers boy was always at least knee deep in trouble,” Candy remarked. “It really ain’t no surprise, is it?”
“It’s goin’ to be bad for business, all the way around,” Clara said.
“Are you kiddin’?” Clark asked. “Not for my business.”
“It might sell papers,” Clara remarked, “but it won’t sell shoes. Too close for comfort.”
“Or maybe they’ll think it’s cool,” Rachel chimed in, “wanna catch a glimpse of the crime scene. I heard some boys at the beach talkin’ about how they wanted to go peer in the windas. Heard it was all gross inside.”
“People are so sick,” Clara determined. “The place is just ripe for a renovation. Tear it down, and build it up again. Certainly don’t want that image haunting Starfish Drive forever, and God forbid we should have freaks comin’ to enshrine the place because a murder happened there. Expanding Top to Bottom into that space will wipe the slate clean.”
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 9