Murder by the Seaside

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  “I think this will be over soon. Turns out, Brady’s partner is dead now, too. The two of them were involved in gun smuggling. Can you believe it? Just when you think it can’t get more bizarre. I’m certain the investigation will show they were murdered at the hands of the same man. Not you. You’ll be free in no time.” I feigned bravery.

  He probably saw through me, but he smiled. “Thanks.”

  Stupid tears sprung up again, blurring my vision. “Besides, you need to get back on the campaign trail. I don’t want to have to move again.”

  That earned me a smile.

  “I can’t live here if Beau Thompson is mayor,” I told him. “Do you know Karen Holsten called herself the First Lady of Chincoteague?”

  We laughed together like old times, at Karen’s expense. It was true. Things would be all right. All the facts were out. Sebastian knew firsthand the traffickers were under investigation. Now he knew the drop site and the droppers were in custody. I could assure Adrian from experience, when cases got to this point with the bureau, they wrapped up quickly.

  “I’m not sure how this town will feel about an ex-con as mayor.” The twinkle in his eye said he was being cute. The set of his jaw told me it was a legitimate concern.

  “Nope. This island loves you. You’re a shoe-in.” The faint fishy smell crawled into my brain. I couldn’t fight it any longer. I wondered if Adrian could smell it anymore, after being here so long. Probably I was oversensitive. I glanced at my watch. “I hate to go so soon, but I had an incident last night and I need to stop over at The Pony. My parents are probably ready to pack me up and send me back to the mainland where nothing remotely dangerous ever happened to me.”

  “Go.” He waved me off, propping his feet dramatically on the bench beside him and sipping coffee. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

  “Sure. I’ll let you know.”

  “Tell 007 to step up his game, would you?”

  “Get out and tell him yourself.” I blew Adrian a kiss and called for Frankie to let me out. Frankie walked me back to the front and waved good-bye before facing the small crowd, fielding a throng of tourist complaints. The scent of stale coffee was relief after being in the cell with Adrian. Sheriff Murray’s office was dark and his cruiser was gone. His day was sure to be busier than mine.

  I didn’t have to go far to find my parents. They’d set up a booth on the corner of Main Street and First. Half their merchandise was displayed on racks around their table. Mom looked the part of a circus mystic, and Dad talked fishing with a couple men on the sidewalk.

  “I hear you had an interesting night.” Mom looked at me through huge white sunglasses, her eyes hidden behind the blackened lenses. “Do I need to send you away to boarding school or something?”

  “I have no intention of getting into trouble ever again.” I crossed my heart and flashed two fingers. “Girl Scout’s honor.”

  “That’s the Boy Scout sign.” Dad slipped back into his fishing talk without missing an unnecessary beat. Nothing got past him.

  I shifted my fingers into an “okay” sign and smiled.

  “You said the same thing the last time I saw you,” Mom said. “You want to tell me what happened last night? The scuttlebutt around town is pretty bad.”

  “You shouldn’t listen to scuttlebutt.”

  We stood facing each other for an infinite length of time. How could two people who looked so much alike be so different? I envied her carefree life. The woman stopped to watch butterflies, for crying out loud. She found joy everywhere. It drove me nuts.

  “Sebastian took me to the boathouse.”

  “Hey! Did you like it?” Dad interrupted his talk again to wait for an answer. “It looks great, right? Hank and I have some ideas for remodeling the dock portion. It’s a boathouse. You don’t want to lose the dock. We can seal it up and make it real nice.”

  “Claire did the shopping. She knew what you liked.” Mom smiled a little.

  “Thank you.” I leaned down to hug her in her lawn chair. “I love it.”

  Her lips pulled to the side. “Are you taking Sebastian to the festivities tonight?”

  “That’s the plan. He’s going to try to get back here in time for dinner. He’ll have paperwork, but I promised to help him as much as I can. We’re hoping to meet you two for drinks since we had to cancel on you last night. Maybe we can watch the fireworks together after the auction?”

  “Sounds lovely. I bet he’ll enjoy the cowboys, too.”

  “Maybe. As soon as he gets back, I’ll ask if he wants to go watch them. I’m going over to the boathouse now...I mean, to my new office.” My smile was huge. It took effort not to run to get there faster.

  “See you tonight.” Mom patted my hand. Dad pulled me into a hug on my way past, leaving the scent of licorice in my nose. I kissed his cheek and moved against the crowd down Main Street.

  Considering everything, I felt good. Though the sight of the pony paraphernalia everywhere reminded me of the tragedy in the forest. I was careful not to look at the pony last night, but my mind had created its own images. The unquenchable curiosity in me wondered how Perkins went out. Had it been at the hand of the man in the black SUV following him home when I left? Was it violent? What happened to Killer? If I’d called the police, would it have saved him?

  If Perkins wasn’t at the bottom of this, who was? His death didn’t mean he was innocent of Brady’s murder. I got that, but it seemed more likely one killer was eliminating the evidence than a number of killers coexisted in one crime circle, each with their own motivation.

  I opened the door to my office, admiring the easy swing of the door. Thank you, Hank. I walked into the tiny kitchen area and plugged in a new red Keurig. Claire must’ve shopped for this. Adrian was enjoying my coffee. Time to make more. The cupboard brimmed with granola, dried fruit and oatmeal—Mom had done the grocery shopping. A pint-sized refrigerator held bottles of water. A creamer carousel sat beside the coffeemaker. I imagined long nights, completing files at my new desk, enjoying a cup of tea and a pinch of granola. The stove was clean but clearly a hundred years old. I hoped I’d never have a reason to use a stove at the office.

  I struggled to remember the boathouse from my childhood. I had no recollection of it. I wondered if anyone in the community had photographs from earlier years I could frame and add to newer ones on my waiting room walls. My waiting room. A zing of anticipation shot through me. No one would willingly sit there in front of the giant glass windows. Too risky. Some neighbor might pass by, see them and think their life wasn’t perfect. The subtle scent of vanilla drifted through the room. Would it be enough to put people at ease? The fragrance must’ve been Claire’s idea. Every detail was perfect. Vanilla was calming. Mom would’ve opted for burning incense.

  Ding! An e-mail from the insurance company lit my borrowed phone. They’d received the reports from Frankie and had begun processing my claims. Excellent.

  I stretched out in my desk chair and ran fingertips across the giant calendar in front of me. I wanted to savor the moment, but a tiny flick in my brain intruded on my peace. Like the lightning in the forest, an idea illuminated and vanished before I had a full understanding of what was before me.

  The man who shot the horse never hesitated. He thought it was a person and pulled the trigger without making certain who he might kill. The dumpers shot my kayak, and if I’d been drowned, they wouldn’t care. No one came to check. Someone wanted Perkins, Mrs. McGee and Brady dead. They died. All these facts were a direct contrast to the other thing. Someone bombed my empty car, shot up the boathouse from afar and broke into my apartment to warn me. Sebastian worried the killer might know him. I worried the killer might know me. Why else would I still be alive?

  And then, like a massive set of dominoes connecting one at a time, the flicker came faster and faster until I saw
what I’d been missing.

  The sheriff’s anger at my intrusion. His irritation with Sebastian at my side. The way he didn’t explode at the idea of dumpers polluting our stretch of national seashore. How his face paled in the streetlight when I told him about the guns.

  He knew.

  I dialed Sebastian before the idea finished working itself out. No answer. The call went straight to voice mail. I began to text it all.

  Sherriff Murray is in the perfect position to allow the trafficking. He runs the island. He could make a ton of money by looking the other way. No harm. No foul.

  He knew me, and even if he didn’t like me, he might have been reluctant to hurt me. He was close enough to stop by and threaten me, then make his protective rounds. The fishy-scented pillowcase probably came from the cell where Adrian sat. Argh. Of course. I hopped to my feet, not sure where to go first. I’d announced to the sheriff his jail smelled like my abductor. Last night Sebastian and I stopped to tell him about the guns. Why did I have such a big mouth?

  His car was gone from the station when I left there an hour before. He could be anywhere.

  My heart raced in my chest. How soon could Sebastian get here and bring Sheriff Murray in? Adrian could be free in time for the fireworks. We’d be safe. I tapped my nails against the desktop and checked my phone. Nothing. I looked to be sure all the texts had gone.

  The phone showed no signal. “Oh come on!” I stood and waved my phone overhead. I’d just gotten the message from the insurance company. Did I have trouble getting reception in the office before? Surely I’d remember. I walked from room to room, thinking of the silly commercial for better reception. What on earth? I couldn’t work at an office where I had faulty reception. I refused to get a landline. Maybe a new cell plan...

  I grabbed my bag and headed for the front door. If I had to text from the lawn, I would. My hands began to sweat as the ideas became more cemented in my mind. Sheriff Murray was in on it the whole time. He knew exactly what happened and he’d covered for it. He’d killed...and he threatened me. I teetered between the thrill of figuring it out and the terror that Sheriff Murray could be so dangerous. Everyone in town believed he protected them. He was a killer.

  Eye on the failed texts, I swung open the front door. Sheriff Murray stood looking back at me. “Ah!” I grabbed my chest. Behind him the streets were empty. Everyone had moved to the marsh side of the island for all the fun. His expression worried me. The crease between his brows looked almost apologetic, which confused me.

  “Sheriff Murray, hi!” I pulled my phone behind my back.

  “I’m afraid we need to talk, Patience.” Not Miss Price? Uh-oh. Things were worse than I thought.

  “Oh, well,” I stepped to my left. He mirrored my move. “I—am—meeting my parents—and Sebastian. I’m late.”

  He stepped forward, forcing me back. “I spoke to your parents on my way over here. They said they’re meeting you tonight for drinks. Late tonight. Hours from now. After Sebastian gets back from the mainland.” He tsked his tongue. “It’s not nice to lie.”

  “You should know.” I fumbled my fingers over the keyboard of my phone, hoping a text might send. Enough gibberish should alert Sebastian to my trouble, assuming the text went and also that I didn’t accidently navigate away from his number.

  He tilted his head over one shoulder and lifted his hand into the air, waving a small black device. “Cell blocker. Radio Shack.”

  “You planned this?” A shiver ran over me. Had I underestimated him all this time?

  “I planned to retire early and leave this hellhole.”

  Despite the ominous circumstances, it irritated me to hear him speak ill of my home, my people. “Rude.” I stepped back another inch as he moved forward, invading my personal space. He underestimated me, too. I remembered one thing clearly about the phone in my hand, one I purchased for the agents.

  Sheriff Murray’s breath reeked of coffee. My stomach churned. The cologne and coffee stirred memories of the night in my apartment. “You broke into my apartment.”

  “And warned you. But you didn’t listen. You should consider yourself lucky. The others didn’t get a warning.”

  Others. Oh for the love of creation! “You killed them all?” I’d assumed he was a lackey, handling things on the island as peacefully as possible, while the true bad guys went on being psychotic elsewhere.

  “Everyone wanted a cut. It was my idea. My arrangement. Then Brady started complaining about Perkins wanting more money. Their relationship was falling apart. Brady’s ridiculous wife was spearheading protests about the fishermen coming too far inshore. She pressed him about doing the right thing and going back out where he belonged. I risked him giving in to her or telling her too much or reneging on our agreement. I had a lot to lose, Patience.”

  “So you killed him?”

  He nodded. “You couldn’t leave it alone for some reason. None of this had anything to do with you, but you kept on pushing. Then, you came to the station to visit your boyfriend. You knew the pillowcase came from the jail, and I thought you put it together right then, but you didn’t say a thing. Lucky for me, you’re slow on the uptake. Now the entire island’s busy by the marsh and my alibi is airtight. I’m out doing my rounds right now.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “I didn’t want to kill you. Please don’t misunderstand. I never liked you, but I do like your parents. They’re so innocent and humble with their old cars and homemade clothes. It’s sweet, really.”

  My calves bumped against a waiting room chair, and I sat. I forgot the place had been outfitted. I hoped to reach the wall and turn the light out to buy me some time. Sheriff Murray pulled something from his belt and waved it between us. A little flicker of light jumped from left to right on the stun gun.

  Crap.

  A jolt ripped through my chest and the world went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Snaps and pops drew me back to the world. My hands burned. I couldn’t swallow. Tendrils of smoke billowed from beneath the storeroom door. Sheriff Murray sat texting a few feet away. I tried to speak and recognized the reason my throat was so dry. He’d literally stuffed a sock in me, or some other disgusting cottony article.

  “Oh.” He looked disappointed. “I’d hoped you’d sleep through it. I don’t want to shoot you. Too messy. Very amateur.” His phone rang, and he took the call.

  Unbelievable. I remembered my phone, but my hands were empty. And tied. I couldn’t move them more than a couple of inches behind my back. I probably dropped the phone when he zapped me with the stun gun. Jerk.

  Smoke caught my eye. Did he know the place was on fire?

  “Everything’s quiet on this end. I’m headed out to the harbor, then down to the dock. I’ll meet you at the counter. What do you have going on over there?”

  I rocked in my chair, which was unreasonably comfortable and impossible to tip. I worked my wrists, hoping to loosen the binds. At least they weren’t cuffs. As long as he didn’t shoot me, I had a chance. Maybe even then. The idea of letting him get away with everything he’d done and seeing him go back to posing as the friendly, law-abiding sheriff was too much.

  “Alrighty. Meet you over there in fifteen. See you then.” He disconnected with a smirk. “Mrs. Tucker wants to treat me to some ice cream for my part in making this annual event so successful. She’s such a nice lady.”

  I thrust my head in the direction of the smoke. Someone needed to call the fire department. The place cleaned up nice, but it had to be a little outdated on the fire safety measures. For example, no smoke detectors. Little gray curls rolled along the floor and drifted up, filling the ceiling over our heads with a cloud of toxins. He dipped his head, resting his forearms on his elbows, staying clear of the smoke.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. “You’v
e got a fire. It’s small now, but it’ll take off in a bit. I blew out the flame in your stove and cranked the gas. For good measure, I tossed a couple of bags of fireworks in here. You’d be shocked at the number of accidents caused by careless fireworks owners every year.”

  I tried to shove my mouth clear of whatever he stuffed in it, but it wouldn’t budge. My mouth had dried around it like paste on paper. I scrunched low in my seat, suppressing a gag when the smoke caused a cough that couldn’t escape. I hated him for ruining all my family and friends had done for me. Taking my dream. Making me feel helpless. I’d never see a patient seated in my new waiting room, recently renovated with love.

  “Well...” He dragged the word into three syllables and slapped his thighs. “I’m going to get going. I can’t leave Mrs. Tucker waiting, and I’d never miss a chance for her ice cream.” He stretched tall. Arching his back, he pressed his palms into his lower lumbar and sighed. A heavy cough choked through him. He laughed and coughed all the way to the door, pulling his shirt over his mouth and nose. “It’s not as clever as condoms and whipped cream, but you’ll still go out with a bang.” Chuckling, he pulled the front door shut behind him.

  Yelling for help was impossible. Desperation threatened to crush my hope. Unable to loosen my binds or tip the chair, I struggled onto my feet, straddling the seat. Coughing through the smoke at a higher altitude, I wriggled my shoulders and climbed onto the chair. One side of my binds caught against the fabric behind me. I pulled in another panic-filled gasp of smoky air and vomit arrived over my tongue, wetting the fabric, loosening it from my lips and gums. When yanking against the chair didn’t serve to free my wrists, I fell from exhaustion and lack of oxygen.

  As I crashed against the floor, a screaming pain ripped through one shoulder. My left arm hung limp at my side. Smoke filled the room to meet me on the floor.

  Whizzzz! The distinct zip of a bottle rocket soared somewhere close by in the darkening room. How long before the fireworks and gas set the building ablaze around me? Soon the smoke would be second to the fire. I struggled onto my knees and crawled toward the door, staying low, moving slow but steady toward much-needed air.