by Kathi Daley
I glanced at Jack. He nodded. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s find a place to talk.”
We followed Meg through the crowd and to the far side of the big dirt lot that was being used for parking. “So what’s up?” I asked.
“A friend of mine stopped by the museum just as I was locking up for the day. She’d heard what had happened to Bosley, who she’d met in the museum earlier in the week, when he came in to look through some journals. She told me that she might know something important, but after what happened to Bosley and Billy, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get involved.”
“Okay,” I said as a car slowly drove by. “What did she say?”
“Lily lives across the street from Billy. On the Friday night the ME thinks Bosley was killed, he came to Billy’s home at around five. She didn’t recognize his car, but she happened to be in her yard turning on her Halloween lights when he pulled up. She remembered him as the man she’d met at the museum and didn’t think anything of Bosley being there. She knew he was doing historical research, and Billy’s family has lived on the island as long as anyone. It wasn’t until she heard he’d been murdered that she began thinking about things.”
I glanced back toward the carnival area, which was still as crowded as ever, then back at Meg. “So Bosley went to see Billy on the night he died, and then Billy ended up dead a couple of days later. The visit seems relevant. Did she say how long Bosley was there?”
“That’s just it. She said he never left.”
“He didn’t leave Billy’s house on Friday night?” Jack asked.
“Not that she saw,” Meg said, then took a deep breath. “Let me back up a bit. Lily told me she saw Bosley arrive at around five. And she also saw Sam Castle arrive, she estimated sixty to ninety minutes later. She wasn’t watching the time because she didn’t think it was going to turn out to be important.”
“Okay. Bosley shows up at Billy’s, then Sam shows up. Then what?” I asked.
“Both their vehicles were in the drive for quite a while. When she looked outside later, as she was locking up for the night, she noticed Sam’s vehicle was gone, but Bosley’s was still there. It was gone when she looked outside the next morning.”
“So maybe Billy killed Bosley,” Jack said.
“Then who killed Billy?” I countered. “What if Billy, Bosley, and Sam all went somewhere in Sam’s car? What if Bosley knew something that made the other men uncomfortable, so they took him somewhere and tried to get him to give up whatever proof he claimed to have? What if he wouldn’t, so either Sam or Billy killed him, then dumped his body in the ocean? Sam lives on the coast and has a boat he moors at a private dock.”
“Then a few days later,” Jack continued where I left off, “after he had a chance to consider things, Billy decides he can’t live with his guilt. He tells Sam he’s going to turn himself in, but Sam doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison, so he follows Billy into town, where we know he had a dinner meeting, then runs him off the road and kills him.”
“How do we prove any of this?” Meg asked.
No one spoke right away. Eventually, I said, “I wonder what happened to Bosley’s car. Someone must have moved it late on Friday night.”
“That’s a really good question,” Jack said. “I wonder if Rick has already looked into locating it.”
“We need to ask him.”
“He was over near the haunted house dealing with the theft when I last saw him,” Meg offered.
“I’ll text him to see if he has a minute to talk.” I took out my phone and sent a quick message.
“If Sam Castle killed Bosley and Billy, we’ll need irrefutable proof,” Meg added. “He’s rich and well connected. A loose theory based on circumstantial evidence is never going to fly.”
Meg was right. If Sam was guilty, we were going to need solid evidence to prove it, which might not be easy to get.
I was just about to try calling Rick when he texted me back. He was on his way to his office to process the paperwork on the kids who’d stolen the money from the haunted house ticket booth, and we could meet him there.
******
The money from the ticket booth was stolen by four boys, all in their teens. Their parents had been notified and the boys had been slapped on the wrists, then turned over to them. Most of the money was still in the box, and the few dollars they’d spent at the food court had been covered by their parents before the boys were released.
Rick was waiting for Meg, Jack, and me in his office.
“What about the guy in the skeleton outfit?” I asked.
“The boys said he wasn’t with them.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t seem right. He was the one who distracted me last night when the kids almost got away with the cashbox, and the volunteer tonight said she went to ask him to move away from the exit of the haunted house when the boys snuck in and made off with the cashbox. It seems he was the distraction.”
Rick shrugged. “I thought so too, but I spoke to the four boys individually and they all insisted that while they took advantage of the distraction, he wasn’t part of their plan.”
“They might be lying,” Jack said. “The guy might have recruited them in the first place, and coached them about what to say if they were caught.”
“Jack’s right,” I said. “It makes sense there would be an adult behind the whole thing.”
“Maybe,” Rick agreed, “but I don’t have a reason to bring him in at this point, even if I knew who he was or where to find him, which I don’t. I plan to keep an eye out for him, though. Now, you said you had something about the two deaths?”
Jack took the lead in filling Rick in. I could see by the changing expressions on his face that he thought our theory was a possibility.
“It sounds like I need to have a chat with Sam Castle,” Rick said.
“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but wouldn’t it be better to try to find some sort of proof first? If you let him know you’re on to him before you have something on him, you’ll just tip him off. He might even take off.”
“I don’t think so. He has too much to lose. If I had proof of his involvement I’d certainly gather it before I spoke to him, but right now all we really have is your theory.”
“What about Bosley’s car?” I asked. “Did you ever find it?”
“No.”
“Maybe we should spend a few hours trying to track it down,” I suggested. “It might be behind Billy’s house for all we know. Or at Sam’s, although that would be dumb on Sam’s part.”
“If there’s evidence to find and Sam is our killer, it’s doubtful he left it anywhere we’d be likely to find it. I suppose he could have left it at Billy’s if he wanted to make it look like Billy killed Bosley. I don’t suppose it would hurt to head over there to take a look.”
“I need to meet George,” Meg said. “Call us and let us know what you find.”
“Jack and I will go with you,” I said to Rick. “We already lost our place in line at the maze. We might as well try for some other excitement tonight.”
*****
Billy had lived on a quiet street where the lots were large, the homes larger, and tall trees lined the road. Rick pulled up alongside the curb and parked. The three of us got out.
Billy had once been married. He had three children, all grown, and had been living alone when he died. The house was dark, but Rick went up to the front door and knocked. He wanted to be sure to follow protocol just in case one or more of the children were currently in residence. While Rick went to the front door, Jack and I scooted around the back. I didn’t see a vehicle of any type in the yard, and a quick peek through the window of the garage revealed that other than a motorcycle, the building was empty of vehicles of any type.
“Bosley’s car isn’t here,” I said when we came back to the front door. “It could have been moved by now anyway.”
“I wonder if it had an OnStar or something similar,” Jack mused. “If so, you might
be able to track it that way.”
“I’ll check,” Rick said. “I need to get back to the festival. I got a call while you were around back that the teen gangs who’ve come to the island for the weekend are fighting again. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I’ll have one of my men confirm Sam’s whereabouts on the night Billy died. We know he was with him the night Bosley died, but if things played out the way we think, he won’t have an alibi for Tuesday night. If you stumble across any new information text me; otherwise, we can talk again tomorrow.”
Rick drove us back to the station, where we’d left Jack’s truck. When Rick returned to the festival, we did so as well.
I thought our theory was a good one, but Rick was right: We had no proof things had happened the way we thought. Unless…
“If Sam Castle’s boat was used to dump Bosley’s body, there should be some physical evidence of it,” I said. “Blood or something.”
“Rick will need a warrant to search the boat.”
“Rick will, but we won’t. We know where it’s docked. It would only take a few minutes to sneak aboard and take a peek around.”
“The boat is docked at Sam’s home,” Jack reminded me. “He’s sure to have a security system.”
“For his home, but maybe not for his boat. Let’s head to the marina. I have a plan.”
My plan was to use Jack’s boat to get to Sam’s boat from the water. I had no doubt he would have a security system protecting his property, so accessing his dock from the road would probably never work, but I doubted whatever system he had would prevent the boat from being boarded from the water. We didn’t have a key, of course, so we might not be able to get into the vessel’s interior, but if Bosley’s body had been dumped from the boat, there should be some evidence on the deck.
When we arrived at the marina, the parking lot was deserted except for a single vehicle, a white Ford F250. Jack pulled into a spot. He kept a key to his boat in the glovebox of his truck, so he hadn’t needed to return to either of his homes to pick it up. I settled into the lounge, which had both an indoor and outdoor section that looked out toward the back of the vessel while he dealt with the prelaunch duties required each time the boat left the dock. Although a bit on the chilly side, it was a beautiful, starry evening. I couldn’t help but think how romantic it would be to take a cruise under the stars that didn’t involve murder and an ongoing investigation.
“Sam lives on the channel,” Jack said as he pulled away from the dock and slowly began to make his way through the marina. “It’ll take about fifteen minutes to get there when we reach open water. There’s wine in the cupboard if you want to open a bottle and pour us both a glass. As long as we’re out here on a beautiful night like this one, we may as well enjoy ourselves.”
I walked across the boat to the cabinet where I knew he kept his alcohol. I picked out a hearty Zinfandel and opened it, then chose two large glasses. I poured some of the deep red liquid into each glass, recorked the bottle, then walked back to where he was sitting. After handing him one of the glasses, I put my free hand on his shoulder and leaned a hip against his seat.
“This is really nice. Why is it we don’t do this more often?”
“I don’t know,” Jack answered. “We should plan a trip.”
“How about tomorrow?”
Jack turned slightly and looked at me. “Tomorrow?”
“It occurred to me that it might be a good idea to go out to Skull Island and take a look around. Maybe there’s some sort of evidence there we can use to pull this whole thing together. Even if there isn’t, it’s supposed to be a nice day. We can bring a picnic and Kizzy and make a day of it.”
“Sure,” Jack said. “I’m kind of over the Harvest Festival anyway.”
I smiled. “Good. Then it’s a date.”
“Should we invite the others?” Jack asked. “Not that I wouldn’t love to have a romantic day at sea with you, but George has already mentioned a trip to the island.”
I took a sip of my wine and nodded. “I guess it would be appropriate to invite the whole group. I’ll start a text right now to let them know what we’re planning.”
While I did that, Jack sailed on toward where Sam lived. Once he’d entered the channel, we needed to reduce our speed significantly, so it took another ten minutes to make our way to his property.
“The boat’s gone,” I said as Jack slowed even further as we approached Sam’s house. “That seems strange to me.”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “Or maybe Sam’s just out, or maybe the boat is in for repairs, or maybe, like many recreational boaters, he chose to dry-dock the vessel for the winter. It is late October.”
“I suppose the boat’s absence could be explained by any one of those reasons, but if you ask me, it’s somewhere having all the blood cleaned off.” I let out a breath. “Let’s head back. George texted me to say he’s at the main house with Meg, Garrett, and Clara. They all want to come with us to the island tomorrow. George suggested we stop by to talk with them this evening if we get back in time. I guess they’ve been busy working up some additional theories.”
Chapter 8
Sunday, October 28
Last night’s brainstorming session hadn’t netted us any strong ideas about what might have occurred on the nights of Bosley and Billy’s deaths, but given the fact that they were seen together the night Bosley died, we were still fairly certain they were connected in some way or another.
In his official capacity as deputy, Rick had done quite a bit better at tracking down real answers than Jack and I. He’d spoken to Sam and confirmed that he had been invited to Billy’s that night to talk about the history of Skull Island and the lighthouse. When he left, he said, Billy and Bosley were still talking. He swore he didn’t know what happened after that. After he left Billy’s, he’d gone to visit a woman friend, who had confirmed that Sam was with her until morning.
Sam claimed his boat had been in dry dock for repairs since late September, and Rick had confirmed that as well. It seemed evident he hadn’t killed Bosley unless it had happened before he joined his lady friend, which Rick thought was unlikely. Sam said he’d been home alone on the night Billy was murdered, which meant he didn’t have an alibi for the time of his death.
Rick was working the Harvest Festival again today, and Vikki and Brit had volunteered to help out, so George and Meg and Garrett and Clara made the trip out to Skull Island with us. And Kizzy too, of course.
As it had been the day before, the weather was perfect. A slight breeze kept things cool, while there was plenty of sunshine to brighten everyone’s day.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been out on the water,” Garrett said. He, Meg, Clara, and I were sitting on the deck, while George rode inside with Jack as he manned the boat. “I forgot how much I enjoy it.”
“I’m sure Jack will be happy to take you out anytime you like. We were just talking about the fact that we needed to get out more.”
“How much farther is it to Skull Island?” Clara asked.
“About thirty minutes,” Meg answered. “We’ll need to circle around and put down anchor on the far side, so it’ll take a few more minutes to do that.”
“There isn’t a dock to tie up to?” Clara asked.
“Not anymore.”
“Jack has a dinghy to shuttle us to shore,” I added.
“Will it accommodate my wheelchair?” Garrett asked. “I’m a little concerned about getting around on the sand.”
“It will,” I assured him.
“There should still be hardpacked dirt roads on the island,” Meg said. “You should be fine.”
“I’m anxious to see this lighthouse I’ve been hearing about,” I said. “We never did find out how the last lighthouse keeper died. It seems that might be tied in to whatever else went on at the end.”
“I suppose he could have been a witness to what happened,” Garrett agreed. “If there was a mass extermination, whoever was responsible wouldn’t have wanted to
leave behind a witness.”
“I’m still having a hard time accepting something like that could have occurred,” I said. “It’s too barbaric to even consider.”
“Maybe it didn’t happen that way. We’re really just guessing,” Garrett reminded me.
“True.” I looked at Clara. “Do you think you’ll be able to sense what happened?”
“Perhaps. It sometimes works that way. At other times, not so much. I’m not sure, but I hope to get a reading.”
“I’m sure it would be pretty awful to experience something like that, even if it’s at a distance of a hundred years.”
Garrett steered the conversation to our Halloween dinner, a much more cheerful subject. We discussed meal options, debating a few alternates to the nachos appetizer I’d originally suggested, until the island came into view. As we approached the land, which was rocky on the backside, Jack slowed, then turned the boat to circle the island and found a safe place to anchor. When the boat was secure, we set about gathering together everything we’d need on shore. Jack estimated that with Garrett’s wheelchair, six people, and the picnic supplies, we’d need to make two trips on the dinghy. George, Clara, and Garrett and his wheelchair went first. Then Jack returned for Meg, me, Kizzy, and the picnic supplies.
“Wow. This place is really something,” I said as I stood in the middle of the beach and took in the view. The vegetation had gone unchecked for nearly a century, so it was lush and overgrown. It was going to be harder for Garrett to get around than we’d anticipated. We decided Clara would wait with him in the shady spot we chose for our picnic while the rest of us hiked to the lighthouse.
“Are you sure you want to wait here?” Jack asked a final time before we set off on the hike we estimated would take close to two hours round trip. “I can run you back to the boat. It’ll be a lot more comfortable there.”
Clara looked at Garrett. “What do you think?”