by Carolyn Hart
Annie knew a moment of terror as she turned to face the solitary figure walking toward her in heavy shadow. There had been murder here, a body sprawled only a few feet away. The winter sun slides deep into the ocean with a sudden finality. Already the shadows were lengthening. Annie strained to see.
Virginia Neville moved out of the shadow, stopped a foot away. Virginia’s grief-raddled face had the lumpy and pummeled look of dirty ice on a glacier. Eyes that burned with a cold and fierce anger raked over Annie. “Why are you here?” Her voice was cold, too, icy as winter wind. Her appearance was shocking. Last night before tragedy struck she’d been an elegant and love-struck woman, her face alight with joy, diamonds sparkling above a silver dress. Now her coronet braids, tied too loose, tipped a little to one side. She wore no makeup, her skin as gray as the silk lining of a casket. She hunched toward Annie, hands deep in the pockets of her bulky wool jacket. Despite the heavy coat and billowing navy wool slacks, she looked in-substantial. She took another step, close enough so that Annie saw the lines bracketing her eyes and lips, making her look much older than her age, close enough so that Annie felt the intensity of her anger, took a step in retreat.
“I spoke with Carl.” Annie pointed up toward the house. “I’m trying to work out what happened last night.” Of course, Carl had no knowledge that Annie had come to the point. That didn’t matter. He’d accepted her survey of the kitchen.
“Oh.” The tension slowly eased out of the older woman’s face. She glanced up the path that led to the gallery, nodded. “I see. I didn’t know. You help the police, don’t you?” Her hands came out of the pockets. She lifted one to smooth back a tendril of hair that had slipped from the braids.
Annie hoped Billy never heard of her elevation to police duty. “I’m just a citizen trying to be of assistance. There’s some confusion about the timing of the attack.”
Virginia looked down at the yellow tape that marked the position of the body. “I came—” She broke off, pressed her fingers against her cheeks.
Annie ached for the bereft woman. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Neville. If there’s anything I can do…”
Virginia’s hands dropped, hung limply beside her. “Sometimes Jake and I used to bring a picnic down here. When the weather was nice.” She gestured toward the cane. “There’s a path from the house—”
Annie pictured the ornate Italian villa that housed the Neville family. Interesting that Virginia didn’t call the villa “my” house or “our” house. It was “the” house. How welcome did she feel in Nathaniel Neville’s extravagant home?
“—as well as the gallery. This was one of Jake’s favorite places on the whole island. He thought it was beautiful.” She looked at the uneven mound that marked the remains of the fort. “Did you know there were sixty-two guns mounted here?” Her lips trembled. “I wouldn’t have known that. Jake told me.” There was a wistful pride in her declaration.
Annie tried to think of something to say, anything to stem the flow of these reminiscences. “There isn’t much left.” Then she felt dreadful. There was nothing left for Virginia.
But Virginia was caught up in memories. “…such a gifted artist. He saw colors that most of us never see. He told me he wanted to paint everything, abandoned shacks and deer and owls. Once, we spent an hour watching the fiddler crabs on the mud flat. He loved to sketch me.” There was a lilt of pride in her voice. “He did a lot of drawings of me. And my painting at the house…” She looked again at the tape outline. “I can’t take it in. It seems like a nightmare that doesn’t end.” She rubbed the back of her hand against her cheek. “I keep thinking maybe it didn’t really happen. I decided I’d come here and look”—she pointed at the place where Jake was found. “So it’s true, isn’t it.” Her voice was dull. Suddenly her face hardened. She spit out the words, sharp as ice slivers. “If only he hadn’t come down here with that girl.” She looked suspiciously at Annie. “What do you mean, you’re trying to figure out what happened? They know what happened. He came down here with a girl. She killed him.”
Annie met her gaze without faltering. “Chloe Martin left him alive. There’s evidence someone else was here.”
Virginia’s eyes widened. Shock sharpened her thin features. “Someone else was here? My God, nobody tells me anything. What’s going on? Who was here?” She reached out and a clawlike hand clutched Annie’s arm. “Who saw them?”
Even through the nylon jacket, Annie felt the sharpness of Virginia’s fingernails. The desperate grip was unpleasant, and Virginia stood too near, her breath quick and uneven.
Annie wanted to jerk away but forced herself to remain still. She understood that Virginia Neville teetered on the edge of hysteria. Of course Virginia wanted to know what had happened and what the police knew. She had every right, but Annie didn’t intend to identify Elaine Hasty. There was no need. “There’s a witness. She was looking out of the kitchen window at the gallery. Her testimony indicates that someone other than Jake and Chloe went to the point.”
“Who did this witness see?” The fierce grip tightened. “Who?” It was a cry from deep in her throat.
Annie pried the steel-hard fingers from her arm, stepped back a pace. “We don’t know yet. She won’t say. But the chief will arrest her as a material witness if she doesn’t cooperate.” Surely he would. Surely Billy understood the need to force Elaine to speak. The threat of jail time should accomplish that. Elaine wouldn’t be so cocky if she found that her silence was a sure ticket to a cell.
Virginia’s pale face creased in a petulant frown. “How can you know this person saw anyone if she won’t say who it was? Did she see a stranger? Is that it? Did she give a description?”
The shadows from the pine were a swath of darkness across the point. Black clouds bunched in the west. The wind off the water gusted, spinning pine straw across the bricks. Annie shivered, her arms prickling with cold beneath the thin jacket. “Mrs. Neville, I wish I knew more. All I can tell you for certain is that the observer saw someone in addition to Jake and Chloe. She knows the identity of the person, but she’s refusing to reveal that information. Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be made to speak. And—” Annie hesitated for an instant. She’d promised Chloe that she’d talk to Billy, make it possible for Chloe to surrender without being jailed. That was a promise—she glanced at her watch—that she had a little over an hour to make good. Now here was a distraught Virginia Neville. If Annie could say anything to lessen the dreadful strain in Virginia’s face, she ought to say it. “—I’ll let you know as soon as we discover the identity of the other person who followed Jake.”
Virginia pressed her fingers against her temples. “I don’t understand.” She dropped her hands, clasped them tightly together. “Why would anyone follow Jake? You’re sure she said it was Jake that was followed, not that girl?”
Annie stared at Virginia. “Yes.” She answered slowly, but her thoughts were racing. It made a difference, didn’t it? A big difference. Elaine saw Chloe go down the path, then Jake. Anyone who came after him was surely following Jake, not Chloe. Among those attending the reception, who cared enough about Jake O’Neill to follow him into the darkness? The faces of the Neville family drifted through Annie’s mind.
Virginia’s shaky voice answered the unspoken question. “I don’t want to think about it. But I have to, don’t I? I know who wanted Jake gone.” She took a deep harsh breath. “They all hated him, Carl and Irene and Susan and Rusty. Because he was going to marry me. Louise was always polite to him. And to me. But she didn’t want me to marry him.” Virginia shivered. “I’m frightened. If one of them killed Jake, it was to make sure they’d get Nathaniel’s money. If someone killed Jake for the money, why not kill me?” She looked wildly at Annie. “Tell that policeman he has to find out who did it or I may be next. I have to know who followed Jake. I have to protect myself.” The wind gusted again, scattering the pine straw, bending the pines, pulling tendrils of hair from Virginia’s braids, billowing her slacks. She brushed the hair away
from her face. “When the police find out, you must call and tell me.” Her querulous voice had an edge of panic.
Promises, promises…
“I’ll call.” Annie was emphatic. “Now, you’d better get home. It’s getting dark and much colder.”
“I know.” The sound was faint, almost lost beneath the slap of the waves. “Yes. Thank you.” Virginia slowly turned away. She stopped once at the stand of cane and looked back at Annie, then she curved around the stalks and was gone.
Annie looked at her watch and broke into a run.
Max brought another straight chair, placed it in front of Billy’s desk. He was standing near the door when Mavis ushered Rusty Brandt and Beth Kelly into the office.
As the door closed behind Mavis, Billy stood. “Ms. Kelly. Mr. Brandt.” Billy jerked his head toward Max. “Deputy Darling. I understand you wish to see me”—he looked from the quick-moving, slender woman with pain-filled eyes to the stocky, reddish-haired man with deep lines grooving his flushed face—“about the O’Neill case. Please be seated.” Billy nodded toward the chairs.
Without looking at each other, Rusty and Beth sat down. Anger pulsed between them. She laced her fingers together, stared at Billy. Rusty tried for a smile, failed. “Billy, you know I want to help if I can. But I’ve got to know for sure”—he looked from Billy to Max and back again—“everything said here is in confidence. Right?”
“This is a murder investigation.” Billy picked up a pen, nudged the tan folder. “If you have some reason to fear that public disclosure of your testimony might endanger you, we will make every effort to keep the origin of the information—”
“Billy, for Christ’s sake,” Rusty exploded. “It’s my wife. You won’t tell my wife, will you?”
Beth’s lips quivered. She reached up, pressed her fingers against her mouth.
Max leaned against the wall, his gaze bleak. He’d always enjoyed playing golf with Rusty. Loud, boisterous, and profane, Rusty had a joke a minute. Max didn’t think they’d ever be a foursome again. Not if Max could help it. Beth’s pain flooded the room, waves of hurt and humiliation and loss. Max looked away from her face, so much older than when they’d walked through the door.
Rusty threw out his hands. “Jesus, man, is that too much to ask? Look”—he hitched his chair closer to the desk, ignoring Beth—“everything’s a mess. I knew I had to straighten things out when I got that goddamn phone call this afternoon. I mean, I don’t like to be hassled. If I hadn’t been hassled last night”—he shot a dark look at Beth—“we wouldn’t be here right now.”
Beth Kelly stumbled to her feet. “Hassle? Is that what you call it? How about all the lies you told me? You said you loved me. Sure, you’d meet me places, make love to me, stay with me in hotels in Atlanta and Charleston. But when it came down to it, you never intended to leave her, did you?” She was oblivious to Billy and Max, her entire being focused on the red-faced man who kept his gaze averted from her. “Look at me, damn you.” Her voice rose, cracked.
“Oh, shit.” Rusty pushed up from his chair, exasperated, embarrassed, impatient. Finally, he looked toward her. “Beth, leave it alone. Can’t you think about something besides yourself for one goddamn minute?”
Beth slapped her arms across her front. “Something else? Like your wife? Like how you sure don’t want your wife to know what you were up to last night? How about me? What do you think the school board will do if it gets in the papers that I was down at the point with you? What if that comes out? All you care about is Susan. You can’t even think about me.” She turned toward Billy. “I’m not going to say a word about anything if it’s going to get into the Gazette.”
Billy was reassuring. “Ms. Kelly, if you didn’t have anything to do with the death of Mr. O’Neill, this office will have no reason to release any information concerning you.”
“Or me?” Rusty demanded.
Beth lifted her hands in outrage. “Oh, sure, first things first. Got to keep Susan in the dark.” Her lips quivered.
“Beth.” Rusty spoke quietly, but the muscles ridged in his jaw. “Let’s talk about this later.” He took a deep breath. “God, I’m sorry, Beth.” There was a note of puzzlement in his voice. “I thought we were having fun. That’s all.”
Billy hurried to speak before Beth could reply. “All right, Mr. Brandt. I’ll hear from you one at a time. You first. Your tuxedo jacket tested positive for human blood. Now I’d better make it clear that you have a right to counsel, and anything you say…”
As Billy rattled off the Miranda warning, Rusty’s face sagged with shock. “Jesus, you don’t think I did anything to Jake?”
Billy’s stolid expression remained unchanged.
“Oh, God, I never thought of being suspected. It was the hassle. Susan—” He shot a look at Beth, shook his head in exasperation. “But when I got that damn call this afternoon, I knew I had to do something. I damn sure wasn’t going to pay some bitch money—”
Max pushed away from the wall, leaned forward. “Hold up, Rusty. What call? When? From whom?” He didn’t look at Billy, but he hoped Billy was listening hard. Here was proof that Elaine Hasty should be picked up at once.
“Oh, hell, maybe an hour ago. I don’t know who it was. She whispered. I’m pretty sure it was a woman.” Anger hardened Rusty’s voice. “Anyway, she said she saw me going to the point last night around the time Jake O’Neill was murdered. She demanded money, five hundred dollars in twenties. She called Beth, too, made the same pitch.”
Billy pulled his notepad close. “We’ll get to the calls in a minute. Blackmail’s a serious offense. Murder is a capital crime. I want to know exactly what each of you did last night. And Ms. Kelly…” Once again, he reeled off the Miranda warning.
Beth Kelly clasped her hands tightly together. “I didn’t have anything to do with murder. All I did—”
“Shut up, Beth. Nobody thinks you killed him. You probably’d never even met him. My God, we were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Rusty took a deep breath. “I can explain.”
Billy waited, his eyes intent. “I’m listening.”
Rusty flung himself into his chair. “Sit down, Beth.”
She shook her head and folded her arms tight, remained standing.
His face turned even redder. “Suit yourself.” He leaned back ostentatiously. “This is all a lot of trouble for nothing. That’s why I didn’t say anything last night. She”—he tilted his head at Beth—“was giving me trouble. She insisted we had to talk. I mean, my God, what a lousy time and place. There’s Susan and the rest of the family and this stupid party. I didn’t want to be there anyway. I told Susan we ought to boycott the damn thing, Virginia ramming that little creep down our throats right in front of everybody we know. Susan said we had to play along. So there I was at the damn party, and Beth comes up to me and says we have to talk. Like I can slip off with her and have a tête-à-tête without anybody noticing. She kept insisting, and finally I told her I’d meet her at the point. I mean, Jesus”—he gave a long-suffering sigh—“women can be unreasonable. I went out the back door—”
Beth’s eyes burned with fury. And anguish.
Max opened his notebook. “What time was this?”
Rusty shrugged. “I don’t know. People were starting to go up to the tent for the program. Susan had already left the gallery. I knew she expected me to come along pretty soon. Must have been around nine, maybe a few minutes after. Anyway, I went down the path and—”
Billy held up his hand. “Take it slow here. You walked down the path. Did you see anyone?”
Rusty clawed at his reddish hair. “Hell, no. Who’d be down at the point on a night like that? That’s why I picked it. Anyway, I hurried. I knew I better get to the tent before Susan started to wonder. I came around that curve by the pines. I couldn’t see much because of the fog. It was cold as Greenland. I figured the chill would cool Beth off, get her back to the house. And then Beth came flying up the path from the point. She wo
uld have screamed her head off if she could have got a breath. I grabbed her and asked her what the hell was wrong. She said—”
Billy interrupted. “Let her tell it.” He turned cold eyes on Beth.
“It was awful.” Her voice was husky. “I thought Rusty had gone ahead of me or I’d never have taken that path by myself. It was nine o’clock. I heard the clock—a big grandfather clock in the main hallway—striking just as I went out the back door.”
Max nodded. He didn’t remember seeing Beth, but it was just about then that Annie caught a glimpse of Chloe running toward the kitchen parking lot.
Beth shivered. “It was scary, the fog hiding everything. I could only see a few feet ahead.”
“Did you see anyone? Hear anything?” Max asked quietly. “Take your time. You may be able to help us a lot.” His tone was friendly.
She gave him a look of gratitude. Her face lost a little of its tautness. “I don’t think so. Not until I got to the point. I waited near the sign to the fort. I thought”—her face squeezed in remembrance—“I heard footsteps on the path into the garden. I whirled and looked. I saw something move”—she lifted her shoulders in a shrug—“I don’t know what. It was so dark and foggy. I think”—her voice was uncertain—“somebody was on that path. The other one, not the path from the gallery. I called out for Rusty, but nobody answered.” She looked sick. “Maybe it was the murderer.”
Billy interrupted impatiently. “Let’s get this straight—”
Beth tensed.
Max drew NO on his pad in big fat capital letters. If Billy showed a little more finesse, they might learn something of critical importance.
But Billy was hewing to his own plan. “You thought maybe”—he drawled the word—“you heard something in the garden. And maybe”—again his impatience was clear—“you saw something. Let’s stick to what happened.”
“It was foggy.” Her retort was sharp. “I didn’t exactly see anything. I almost”—her shoulders hunched—“didn’t find the body. But I was so cold, and it seemed like I waited and waited, and I thought maybe Rusty was blowing me off”—she shot him a bitter look—“like he is. Anyway, I started pacing back and forth and I guess I went farther than I intended toward the shore. I was close to the overlook. I saw somebody lying on the ground. I knew something bad had happened. Nobody would lie down there and not move. It was a man. I froze for a minute and he never moved. Never. I turned and ran. When I was almost to the pines, Rusty came. I told him there was somebody hurt at the point. He told me he’d go and see and I’d better go home, keep out of it.”