Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 06 - The Harbor of Lies

by Debra Burroughs

  “Now, about the rehearsal dinner—”

  “Do you mind if we skip the rehearsal dinner, Sis?” Emily asked.

  “What? Why?”

  “The girls want to take me out for some fun, a little bachelorette party, they said, before I become an old married lady. Oh, and, of course, you’re invited too.”

  Susan grew quiet. That wasn’t a good sign.

  “Susan?”

  “I’m here.” Her voice was high and thin.

  “I hope you don’t mind. Camille’s daughter is here from college, and Colin’s mom should be here by then too. We plan to take them with us. Won’t you come too? We’ll make a party of it.”

  “I might join you later.” Susan gave a soft sigh. “I’ll text you when I’m free and you can let me know where you all are.”

  When she’s free? She was planning to be available for the rehearsal dinner she had planned, which was nothing more than all of them having dinner together in a reserved back room of some restaurant. It sounded more like Emily had hurt her sister’s feelings. “Look, Susan, I know you made plans, and I hate to change things at the last minute, but—”

  “No, no. I’ll simply cancel our reservations and you can do what you want.” Susan’s words were cool and quick. “Like I said, text me.”

  “Okay.” She hadn’t meant to throw a wet blanket on Susan’s plans, but the bachelorette party sounded like so much more fun. Maybe Susan would change her mind and join them.

  ~*~

  Camille and Maggie decided to head over to Southwest Harbor to do a little shopping. Some of the locals had told them it was the best shopping on the island and they were both eager to check it out.

  Emily and Isabel chose to stop in at the West Street Café for a quick bite of lunch and something warm to drink. The nippy breeze and drizzly gray day made a cup of hot coffee and some clam chowder sound absolutely perfect.

  The interior of the café was done in a cheery yellow, with white paint trimming the large windows that ran across the front and all along one side. The hostess sat them in one of the red vinyl booths by a window, giving them a view of the street and part of the wharf. The place was fairly empty and quiet, it being early afternoon, and the delicious scent of bacon and cinnamon rolls hung in the air.

  “With the wedding tomorrow, time is running out for you to help solve this case,” Isabel said, once they were served their orders. “While the guys are off fishing, I wondered if there was anything I could help you work on.”

  Emily stirred sugar into her coffee. “That’s hard to say, not knowing if Ben was murdered to keep him from testifying in New York, or if he was digging around in this heroin trafficking mess.”

  She shared with Isabel all that she and Colin had discovered so far. “Ben’s secretary thinks it’s her fault he’s dead because she’s the one who told him about the heroin.”

  “What does the police chief have to say about all this?”

  “Alvin? Not much. He’s pretty green when it comes to murder investigations. He’s never been part of one and he’s soaking up what we tell him like a sponge.”

  “So you and Colin are doing most of the work?”

  “Well, trying to keep it in an advisory capacity. We don’t want to overstep. Chief Nelson, back home, said he doesn’t mind us helping Chief Taylor, but in the end, the investigation has to be his responsibility—not ours. Colin is trying to get Alvin to think things through with us.”

  “That young chief will appreciate that when you guys are gone.”

  “So, now that I’ve brought you up to speed on where we are, Isabel, what do you think? Murdered by a hired assassin for the kingpin in New York or killed by the drug runners?”

  Isabel gave her a pensive look before answering. “I always like to say that forensic evidence doesn’t lie, but the problem is, you don’t have any. No blood, no hairs, no clear video.”

  “What did cops do fifty years ago, before we had a fingerprint database and DNA testing?” Emily gave her head a light shake and took a sip of her coffee.

  “Fifty years ago? Heck, even twenty years ago. The technology keeps getting better all the time. But years ago, before all that, they had to go primarily on eyewitness testimony, motive, and opportunity to commit the crime.”

  “Well, for us, eyewitness testimony is out—we’ve got none of that so far. That video tape was so grainy and obscured, it could have been Big Foot and we couldn’t tell.”

  Isabel chuckled.

  “And motive?” Emily continued. “Again, it’s a toss-up—to stop Ben from testifying against some powerful people, or to keep him from exposing the heroin business in this area—take your pick.”

  “That only leaves opportunity.” Isabel set her cup down. “Who had opportunity that night, between six and eight pm?”

  “Whitley, his secretary, for one, but she was in love with the man.”

  “That doesn’t mean she couldn’t have done it,” Isabel said. “Love is one of the top motives for murder. Now, who else can we add to the list?”

  “If Whitley was right about the drugs, then I’d say Eric Malone or his men, Rosco or Caleb. But if it was about the trial, then it could be anyone wanting to collect the bounty.”

  “Do we know why Ben was outside of the inn?”

  “To meet someone maybe?”

  “Do you know if the chief checked Ben’s phone records?”

  “They tried. Colin mentioned that they couldn’t find that he had phone service, at least not one in any of his names. Maybe the chief can have some of his men check calls made to and from the bed and breakfast.”

  “And the church,” Isabel added. “He could have made calls from his office. Each extension should have its own number. But he’ll probably need a warrant.”

  “But if it was someone who came to town specifically to kill Ben for the reward, how will we ever figure out who it was? They could have slipped into town, done the job, and left before anyone even knew they were here. It’s not like they have security cameras on the roads around here. Hmmm…” Emily tapped a quick beat on the table. “Isabel, did I tell you about Susan’s husband?”

  “The guy with two broken legs?”

  “Yes, Brian.”

  Emily explained to Isabel that Brian had confessed that Ben was his cousin, and that he had confirmed what Whitley had told them about the two men arguing earlier in the day before he was forced off the road and into the ravine. She also mentioned her own conclusion that Brian and Ben had a distinct family resemblance and drove similar vehicles.

  “And you think a hit man mixed Brian up with Ben?”

  “It is possible, don’t you think?” Emily took a spoonful of her chowder.

  “Well…” Isabel pursed her lips as she thought about it. “Similar cars, similar-looking men, in the dark, leaving the bed and breakfast where Ben lived…anything’s possible.”

  “See our quandary? There’s nothing clear cut pointing to a specific suspect. Only wild fingers pointing in all different directions.” Emily ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Maybe the same person who ran Brian off the road came back later and finished the job.”

  “All right, you’re looking stressed over this. Let’s talk about something else for a while,” Isabel suggested. “I find that getting my mind on other things, and then coming back to the case, helps me look at it with fresh eyes.”

  “That’s my wish for Colin.” Emily gazed out the window, toward the bay as a small flock of seagulls flew overhead. “It’ll do him good to be out fishing for a few hours, clear his head, you know?”

  “And how about you, Emily? Getting nervous about the wedding tomorrow?”

  Emily turned back to Isabel and smiled. “Excited more than nervous, but…”

  Isabel took a sip and set her coffee cup down. “But what?”

  “But I can’t seem to get away from these visions of Evan. They had better go away once we’re married.”

  “He’s still bothering you?”


  Emily glanced out the window again, watching a cuddling young couple stroll by. “Yeah. This morning, I swear I got a whiff of his aftershave again.”

  “I wish he would leave you alone—his ghost, I mean, you know? I wish his ghost would quit haunting you.”

  Emily nodded, bringing her gaze back inside. “Me too, but I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Then what?”

  “Imagination is a powerful thing, Isabel. With the wedding planning and everything, I think I’m manifesting images from the last time I got married. That time, I never entertained the idea of something going wrong, and then Evan almost stood me up, so this time I think I am preparing myself for anything. I think it is simply old memories being stirred up.”

  Isabel flashed her an I-told-you-so look.

  “Go ahead, say it.”

  “Say what? That I said that from the beginning?”

  “Yes, Isabel. You told me so, and I think you were right.”

  “You’ll be fine once you and Colin finally say I do. Evan’s ghost will have no choice but to quit bothering you then.” Isabel smiled and patted Emily’s hand across the table. “Now, finish your chowder before we get back to the case.”

  ~*~

  After lunch, Emily had finished telling Isabel about her suspicions, including that she thought Whitley’s pendant may, in fact, be a thumb drive with the missing information the Feds were after. So, they left the café and headed to the church, to visit Whitley at her office. Maybe they could get a closer look at it.

  “Sorry, Whitley is gone for the day,” Pastor Jansen told them. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “We’d like her home address, if you don’t mind,” Emily replied.

  “Well, I don’t normally give out that information, but these are extenuating circumstances, and I know she’s fond of you, Emily. Let me call the bookkeeper and get it for you.” The pastor went to the phone on the reception desk and made the call.

  “What if she’s not there?” Isabel asked in a low voice.

  Emily shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “There you go.” Pastor Jansen pulled a page off a small notepad and handed it to Emily. “It’s just a few blocks from here. Anything else?”

  “That should do it.” Emily smiled. “If you see her, tell her I have some more questions about that pendant I liked so much.”

  “Will do.”

  The girls left and beat it over to the address on the note. They knocked and waited, then knocked again, but there was no answer.

  “Where could she be?” Emily closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “The nursing home.”

  “What nursing home?”

  “Whitley’s mother is in a nursing home. She told me earlier she was going over there today to check in on her.”

  “Do you have any idea where it is?” Isabel asked.

  Emily pulled out her phone. “No, but the chief will.” She called him and got the name of the home, its address, and directions how to get there.

  They walked a short four blocks and caught Whitley coming out the front door of the home as they approached. “Whitley!”

  The young woman smiled as she saw them coming her way. “Emily, what a surprise.”

  “Whitley, this is my friend, Isabel.”

  The two shook hands and smiled politely.

  Whitley was not wearing the pendant, which made Emily a little suspicious. “I don’t see that lovely necklace you had on earlier.”

  “No, I gave it to my mother, temporarily. She was asking me all sorts of questions about it—how much it cost me, where I got it, who gave it to me? You know, like that. I thought it’d be best to avoid the whole unpleasant scene and I offered to let her wear it. She seemed happy with that.”

  “Yes,” Isabel said, “my mother is exactly the same way.”

  Emily recognized Isabel was attempting to identify with Whitley, to get her to relax and open up. She followed suit. “Yes, my mom, too.”

  “I’ll be back tonight and figure out a way to get it back from her. Maybe she won’t even remember having it, dementia, you know.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Emily really was sorry, knowing from experience what Whitley had to look forward to with her mother.

  “Say, did you have any luck finding a necklace like it?” Whitley asked Emily.

  “No, not yet. I was hoping to get a closer look at yours.”

  “You’re welcome to take another look at it,” Whitley said, “but with my mom having it…it won’t be today.”

  “How about tonight?” Isabel suggested. “We’ll be out on the town. You could give Emily a call when you’ve gotten it back and we can stop by.”

  “Do you mind?” Emily asked. “It’s just that Colin and I are leaving on Sunday and—”

  “Oh sure. No problem. That is, if I can get it back from her any time soon.”

  ~*~

  Later that afternoon, while the men were still out fishing, Emily met Maggie in the lobby of the inn. She was dressed in tight jeans and a winter-white ski jacket over a snug-fitting turquoise sweater.

  “Ready to go?” Emily pitched her head in the direction of the front desk, where Eric Malone stood, checking in a middle-aged couple.

  Maggie nonchalantly glanced over as well, then brought her attention back to Emily. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Did you manage to fit the wire under that sweater?”

  Maggie appraised herself then leaned in close enough to whisper to Emily. “I did. But why do I need to wear a wire? You think this is goin’ to get rough?”

  “No, nothing to worry about.” Emily waved her hand casually at her friend. “But just to be safe, I’ve got the other end of it in my purse, with these little headphones.” She stuck one of them in her ear. “Let’s do a sound check. Say something.”

  “What would you like me to say?”

  “That was perfect. Loud and clear. Now, Maggie, I’ll be listening the whole time. If you need my help, just say the word cinnamon.”

  A slight frown formed on Maggie’s brow. “Why would I say that?”

  “Like a code word for I need help.”

  “But that’s crazy. How would I use the word cinnamon?”

  “You could say something like it smells like cinnamon in here, or something like that.”

  “Okay, cinnamon.”

  “Got the tracker?” Emily asked.

  Maggie patted the front pocket of her form-fitting jeans.

  “No, it’d be better if you stuck it in one of your jacket pockets,” Emily said, taking a quick peak at the front desk, “easier to get to it without our Mr. Malone noticing.”

  Maggie complied. “There. Happy?”

  Emily took another glance toward the manager. “Okay, you’re up.” She walked away and sat on one of the plush chairs in the lobby, watching Maggie sashay over to the front desk as the couple wandered off down the hall toward their room.

  Chapter 18

  Emily listened in as Maggie made small talk with Eric Malone at the front desk, asking about recommendations for restaurants and things to do around town. She asked him how long he had been the manager of the lovely Rock Harbor Inn and did he enjoy running such a magnificent place.

  Eric appeared pleased that Maggie had stopped by. As the conversation went back and forth, Maggie got Eric to open up about his side business and how, in a year or two, he expected to be able to leave the inn and operate a small fleet of boats full-time.

  Emily watched as Maggie leaned her ample breasts on the high counter as she oohed and aahed over his grand plans.

  “Cruising from here to Boston? Oh my, that would be fabulous, Mr. Malone,” Maggie gushed.

  “Oh, please, call me Eric.”

  “Okay, Eric.”

  Emily envisioned Maggie batting her big blue eyes at him.

  “I’d love to see your big ol’ boat sometime,” Maggie went on. “I’ve never been on one before and yours just sounds so wonderful. Does it have a
comfy cabin below?”

  Emily couldn’t see Maggie’s face, but from the position of her body and the various expressions of interest on the manager’s face, she could tell Maggie was having quite an effect on the man.

  “Yes, it has a spacious cabin below, with all the amenities—a kitchen, a nice bathroom, and a comfortable queen stateroom.”

  “A big ol’ bed on a boat? Oh, I’d just love to see it,” Maggie said, drawing out the word love with her sexy Texas drawl.

  Don’t push too hard, Maggie.

  “You would?”

  Even from across the lobby, Emily saw the man’s eyes light up.

  “That is, if you have the time. I know you’re a big important man around this place.”

  A broad smile spread across Eric’s face. “For you, I’ll make the time.”

  “Of course, I’m only here for a short while though…”

  Eric Malone peered down at his watch. “You know, I have a break coming, right about now.” His face spread into a wide grin. “Just let me get someone to watch the front desk here and I’ll take you down to see my boat.”

  Before long, the manager brought a young woman up front to take over for him. Emily recognized her as the clerk who was there when she ran in to report the dead body on her deck.

  “Shall we?” Eric made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the front door.

  Maggie giggled. “Absolutely.”

  The two walked out the door, heading for the driveway. Emily gave them a little space before she got up and followed them, at a safe distance, down to the docks.

  ~*~

  “This is my boat,” Eric stated proudly, motioning toward the large forty-foot white trawler.

  “Oh, Hoosier Daddy. That’s clever,” Maggie said, referring to the name of the boat.

  “I like it.” He took her hand and helped her over the gangway and onto the boat.

  “It’s so pretty, all white and sparkly.” Maggie stuck her hands in her jacket pockets as she took a seat on the luxurious white cushions around the stern of the boat.

  “We offer deluxe fishing excursions, in addition to the day cruises to and from Boston.”

  “That sounds excitin’. Maybe I’ll take one of those cruises someday.”

  “I think you’d find that it’s a comfortable long-distance cruiser, designed with seakeeping abilities in the open waters. The fantail stern here,” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “provides good buoyancy in a following sea.”