“How about a lobster roll at the Boiling Pot?” The chief grabbed his jacket off the coat rack. “The best in town.”
~*~
After a delicious lunch, Emily left the others to their assignments and headed to the Community Church. When she breezed through the church office doors, Whitley greeted her from behind her desk in the reception area.
“Hello, again.” Whitley twirled a strand of long, auburn hair around her finger. Perhaps a nervous tell. “What can I do for you?”
“When we were talking earlier, I got the feeling there was more you wanted to say about Pastor Ben. So, I thought I’d give you another opportunity”
Whitley relocated the stapler on her desk, stuck a couple of paper clips in the drawer, stacked a few pages together. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.” She avoided making eye contact with Emily.
Emily leaned down and put her hands flat on the desk, keeping a soft, even tone to her voice. “Is there some reason why you don’t want to help us find Pastor Ben’s killer?”
Whitley’s eyes rounded and glistened with tears, her lips trembling slightly. “Of course not.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “I can’t talk about it heyah.”
“Heyah?” Emily repeated. Then she recalled what the clerk at the inn had told them about not saying their Rs. “Oh. You mean here?”
“That’s what I said. Heyah.” Whitley gave her an odd look, then shook it off. “I am due for an afternoon break. Let me just tell the bookkeepah she needs to catch the phone and we can step outside.”
Before long, they were seated together on a park bench in a garden-like area along the flagstone walkway to the front of the church.
“Ben’s death is all my fault,” Whitley cried. “I don’t know how I can live with myself.”
“Your fault?”
“If I hadn’t…”
Whitley looked away, toward the old cemetery beside the church, again twisting a strand of hair around her forefinger.
“Hadn’t what?” Apparently Emily was going to have to coax the information out of the young woman.
Whitley didn’t answer right away. She wiped a tear away with her hand, her eyes still gazing off toward the graves in the distance.
“Whitley?”
She slowly turned toward Emily. “I loved him, you know.”
“I had my suspicions. Did he return your feelings?”
She shrugged. “I knew he felt something.” Her cheeks flushed deep pink. Was it the crisp autumn breeze or was she embarrassed to expose their relationship? “He’d flirt with me a little when no one else was around, tell me I was tempting him, that I had to be careful or he would forget he was a minister and…well, let’s just say I could get him in a lot of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Emily suspected what she meant, but she didn’t want to just assume.
“He never told me straight out, but I got the message. He was a man with needs and urges. That’s how God made all men, you know. It’s not good for man to be alone. That’s why God made Eve.”
“I see.” Disappointment colored her response. Emily had come for more information than the fact he was a man who needed to have his sexual needs met.
“What Ben needed was a wife,” Whitley continued, “and I would have been a good one. But it never went too far beyond the flirtation. Maybe if we’d had more time—”
But did it go somewhere beyond the flirting?
Emily rested a comforting hand on Whitley’s shoulder. “So, why do you think his death was your fault?”
Whitley ran her fingers nervously through her hair and exhaled loudly. Her gaze bounced around the garden before she went on. She dropped her voice to little more than a whisper. “I’m afraid to tell you.”
“Sometimes we have to do the thing we’re most afraid of. You want to help us find who did this to Ben, don’t you?”
Whitley nodded. “But I could be next to die if I do.”
“No one will know where I got the information, I promise, but you’ve got to tell me.”
“If I tell you, then you could become a target too.”
“Don’t worry about me, Whitley. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“All right, but I warned you.”
Emily nodded. She could take care of herself.
“One night, a few weeks ago, I was working at the inn,” her voice remained low, “and I overheard Eric Malone, the manager, in the room behind the front desk. He was talking on the phone to someone. The door was almost shut, and I’m sure he didn’t think I could heyah him.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, he wouldn’t have said what he said, of course.”
“And what was it he said?”
“Well, I don’t know who he was talking to,” Whitley continued, “but I heard him say something about heroin, and he mentioned something about using his boat and that he’d be making another run soon.”
“He has a boat?”
“A big white trawler that he operates as a side business. He uses it to take clients on short ocean cruises between Rock Harbor and Boston. Sometimes they take people out on fishing excursions for a few hours too. It’s not really a fishing boat, but people seem to like to sit in cushy chairs on the rear deck and throw their lines in the water.”
Heroin? From Boston? Chief Taylor would definitely be interested in that.
“What’s the name of his boat?” Emily asked.
“Hoosier Daddy.”
“Clever. Is Eric from Indiana?”
“I think he is. Why do you ask?”
“The Hoosiers…Indiana…” Emily raised her eyebrows in question.
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s not important.” Emily blinked and moved on. “Have you ever been on the Hoosier Daddy?”
“Once. He took me out to dinner, then we went down to the docks and he showed me around the boat.”
“You dated him?”
“Only once.” Whitley shook her head. “He wasn’t the guy for me. I guess he thought he could get to second base with me on his boat, maybe third. He started putting his hands on me and I slapped his face. Good thing my brother showed up, or who knows what that man might have tried.”
“Your brother? Why would he just show up on Eric’s boat?”
“He works for Eric. He and another guy run the boat for him. My brother said he noticed lights on from up at the inn, and that there were people on the boat when no one should have been theyah.”
“He was at the inn? Does he work there too?” Emily asked.
“Part-time.”
“What’s your brother’s name?”
“Caleb. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Hopefully Whitley’s brother wasn’t involved in running drugs. Probably not, if he was anything like her. “Who’s the other guy?”
“Rosco.” Whitley grimaced. “Caleb calls him The Sicilian. Doesn’t like him much, but a job’s a job, my brother says.”
Was Rosco the man Emily saw quarreling with the manager before Whitley came in?
“Is Rosco a burly man with olive skin, brooding eyes, and unruly black hair?”
“Good description, but you left out the sour disposition. How did you know?”
“I saw him arguing with Eric Malone at the inn yesterday.” Now that character looked more like someone she’d expect to be involved in something illegal. “Do you know his last name?”
“Ciminella, I think—or something like that. Why? Is that important?”
“Don’t worry. It’s just routine to run a background check on any potential suspects.”
“You consider him a suspect?”
“Everyone is a suspect until we eliminate them. Even you.”
“Me? I would never hurt a hair on Ben’s head. I loved him.” Whitley sucked in a quick shuddering breath. “There was never a harsh word between us.”
“I believe you,” Emily said, hoping to relax the young woman, “but you still haven’t told me why you think Ben’s deat
h was your fault.”
“Because I told him about what I’d overheard. I had to tell somebody.” Whitley lowered her eyes to her hands, fidgeting in her lap. “Now he’s dead.”
“Look at me, Whitley.”
Her moist gaze slowly rose to meet Emily’s.
“Did you mention it to anyone else?”
Chapter 11
Whitley shook her head sadly as she pulled a tissue from her pocket. “I didn’t tell anyone else what I’d heard.”
“And you’re positive Eric doesn’t know you overheard his conversation?”
Her head bobbed slightly. “I’m sure. I only listened for a minute. I’d heard enough. Then I hurried out to the lobby and fluffed pillows on the sofas—and anything else I could find to look busy when he came out of the back office.” Whitley paused, wiping her nose with the tissue. “When Ben was killed, I knew I couldn’t work there anymore.”
Could Ben have been murdered because he was investigating Whitley’s story? If Eric Malone really was running drugs with his boat, and Ben went sniffing around, that would be a pretty strong motive for murder. Mr. Malone was worth checking out.
On the other hand, Colin and Chief Taylor had reason to believe Ben was hiding from some very bad people who would do anything to stop him from testifying against them. Could they have found him? The way he was killed didn’t scream professional hit, but it did get the job done.
Colin and the chief had better nail that possibility down so they weren’t spending precious time accusing townspeople of this murder.
“Like I told you,” Whitley moaned, “it’s all my fault. Poor Ben.” The tears began to flow.
Though Whitley was taking the blame on herself, maybe she simply misunderstood what she had overheard. Just because Eric used the word heroin while he was on the phone didn’t mean he was the one bringing it in to Rock Harbor. She’d admitted she hadn’t caught the entire conversation, only a few snippets through an almost-closed door. He could have merely been commenting on the drug problem to a friend, then going on to talk about his boat business.
What a tragedy if assumptions and misunderstandings had somehow gotten Ben killed?
Emily put a comforting arm around Whitley. Here was this sweet, young woman, grieving for the man she loved, believing it may have been her fault he was killed. A heavy sadness settled over Emily, an empathy of sorts. She had been in Whitley’s shoes, experienced what she was feeling, only ten times over, when Evan had died. Even now, marrying a police detective, Emily couldn’t help but wonder if she might one day know that grief again.
She patted Whitley’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this thing out.”
Emily probably shouldn’t have promised that—time was running out before the wedding and then they’d be off on their honeymoon—but the words tumbled out, along with the desire to help lift the young woman’s burden. If they could find the truth, and discover who murdered Ben, maybe Whitley could forgive herself and move on with her life.
“I’d better get back to work before someone comes looking for me.”
“Call me if you want to talk again,” Emily said, handing her a business card.
Whitley took it and hurried back into the church.
~*~
“Thanks for the info, Isabel.” Colin hung up the phone and turned to Chief Taylor, who was eagerly waiting to hear what Isabel had found out.
“Well…what’d she say?”
“Her contacts at the FBI confirmed Ben Kingston was an accountant for Dominick & Pelosi Investments.”
“Never heard of them. Big outfit?”
Colin nodded. “The Feds had been after his boss for money laundering, among other things, and they scooped Ben up in the mass arrest. They’re convinced he knew what his boss was up to, and that he participated, whether willingly or unwillingly. Ben claimed he didn’t know anything about the illegal activities, said he just kept the books, but word was he had a CD with a second set of books on it, for his own protection.”
The chief rubbed his chin. “Which proves he did know.”
“Exactly what I thought.” Colin claimed one of the chairs across the desk from Chief Taylor. “The Feds offered to stick him in witness protection, like we suspected, in exchange for his testimony and turning over the file.”
“Did he take them up on it?”
“According to Isabel’s source, Ben did, but then he slipped away.”
“I expect they got the CD from him first.”
“Not according to Isabel. He was supposed to hand it over, but he shook his escorts before that happened.”
“You think he brought it with him to Rock Harbor?”
“We didn’t find anything when we searched his room, but he could have hidden it somewhere else,” Colin said. “But where?”
“You think maybe somewhere else in Ella’s house?”
“It would make sense. We should get a few of your men and go search the entire house. When we were there last, we had no idea we should be looking for a CD.” Colin rose to his feet and slid his jacket on. “But I’m afraid we’ll need to get a search warrant this time.”
“Knowing her, she will probably demand it.”
Colin had to agree. Even with the short time he’d spent with the woman, he would say that even with her charming ways, she was a tough old bird. “How hard will that be?”
“Well, the Hancock County seat is over in Ellsworth,” the chief said. “I have a cousin who works in the courthouse over there. I’ll give her a call and see if she can rush this thing through with Judge Wilcox.”
“In Ellsworth? You don’t have a courthouse here on the island?”
That would certainly delay things, and with the wedding coming up soon, every minute counted.
“Nope. We don’t have much crime here, so everything gets handled over in Ellsworth. Don’t worry. It’s only about a half hour away.”
“Man, I thought Paradise Valley was small,” Colin huffed.
“Paradise Valley?”
“Yeah, in Idaho, just outside of Boise. That’s where Emily and I work.”
“I thought you were some big-time detective from the mean streets of San Francisco.” Chief Taylor quirked one side of his mouth.
“I was, at one time. I could tell you stories that would make your hair stand on end.”
“Huh. Small town cop now, just like me.” Chief Taylor raised a curious eyebrow. It seemed as though Colin had lost some street cred in the chief’s eyes.
Colin crossed his arms defiantly. “True. Except I’m the one with years of experience solving murder cases. But, if you don’t need my help…”
The chief’s attitude rankled Colin. If his help wasn’t appreciated, this young and inexperienced Chief of Police could go right ahead and try to work this case alone. He didn’t need that condescending attitude. He could be out golfing right now with Alex, instead of assisting with this case.
Colin had been an aggressive homicide detective, in one of the largest cities in the world, and had successfully closed most of his cases. This pipsqueak had never even worked one single murder investigation.
The chief waved a dismissive hand. “Now, don’t get all riled up. I was just taken aback a might. I appreciate your help. I was just thinking you were this hard-boiled detective, is all.”
“I am. I was. I saw a lot of horrific crimes in my time on the force there. Eventually, I just needed a change of scenery.” Colin didn’t see the need to go into the story about why he really left, that his previous fiancée had been brutally killed in the line of duty in San Francisco.
“Now that we got that out of the way, what’s our next step, Detective—besides getting a search warrant for the bed and breakfast?” Chief Taylor pushed back from his desk and went to the coat rack.
Colin followed him toward the door. “With the new information we have, we should go and pay another call on Madam Mayor and see what we can shake out of her,” he said, making a motion with his hands as if he was actu
ally shaking her.
Chief Taylor’s eyes widened. “Hey, you can’t be putting your hands on the mayor.”
Colin chuckled. “Figure of speech, Alvin.”
“Oh.” He blushed a little then grabbed his coat off the rack. “I just, well, you know.” He cleared his throat. “We ought to head on over there if we’re going to.”
~*~
After Chief Taylor called his cousin at the courthouse, and put the paperwork in motion to get the search warrant, he and Colin drove to the bed and breakfast again.
“Back so soon?” Mrs. McCormack asked, standing in the doorway. “I hope this means you have a suspect under arrest for Ben’s murder.”
“We have some leads we’re following, Ella. Mind if we come in?” the chief asked.
“Oh, sure, sure.” She stepped back to let them in. “I see you still have your friend helping you.”
The word friend was a stretch, but Colin didn’t argue.
The men stepped past her into the grand entry then paused, waiting for her to lead them into the living room.
Ella gestured toward the overstuffed chairs and the men took a seat. “So what’s this about?” She sat on the sofa facing them.
“Just some further questions as we’re digging into this case. You told us that you knew Ben Kinney for quite a few years,” Chief Taylor said.
“That’s right, but I hadn’t seen him for, I don’t know how long. Why do you ask?”
Colin leaned toward her, perching on the edge of his chair. “We find it odd that you pushed so hard to get him hired at the church, if you hadn’t seen him for a long time. How exactly did you know him?”
Her eyes flashed panic, then she regained her composure.
“Well, I had known him since he was a boy. You know how it is, Alvin. They grow up and go off to have their own lives and you hardly hear from them again.” There was something sad in her voice and her gaze fell to the hands folded in her lap. “Then one day, out of the blue…”
Years of interrogations gave Colin a sense about these things—there was something more to the story—so he pushed. “Mrs. McCormack, what are you not telling us?”
“What do you mean? I answered your question.”
“There’s more to it than that. I can tell.”
Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 06 - The Harbor of Lies Page 9