“Thank you. It’s probably time I donate it to a museum so more people can enjoy it. My great-grandfather was an archeologist. Most of the pieces are souvenirs from his excavations, from the days when that kind of thing wasn’t illegal.”
“Hmm.” So Frank was savvy of the laws.
“Could we have a tour?” Nate asked, and I silently cheered when Frank agreed. Except Nate seemed to be glancing everywhere but at the antiquities as Frank led us from room to room.
“What were you looking for?” I asked when we were back in the car.
“Signs of a houseguest. I thought Ben might be hiding out here.”
Of course! I couldn’t believe the possibility hadn’t occurred to me, given Ben’s recent trip.
“Didn’t look like it though,” Nate went on. “All the shoes by the door were the same size. The sink and tub in the guest bathroom were dry. And only one cup sat by the kitchen sink.”
“Wow, I’m impressed you noticed all of that. You’d make a great detective.”
“Your Aunt Martha will be tickled to hear that.” He grinned and headed toward the address Preston had given us. “What do you think of Frank?”
“I’m not ready to trust him. His explanation sounded too rehearsed—and clearly intended to silence questions.”
“But easy enough to verify.”
“Yeah.” I thumbed through Jack’s planner, starting at today’s date, and carefully scrutinized each page. “He didn’t have any notes about his calls to the FBI in this book. Only client appointments and the occasional lunch date with Marianne seemed to rank.”
“How many different clients did Jack see in the last two weeks?”
“Three. The one we’re headed to now. A celebrity who’s taking bids for an indoor pool design. And a church planning an addition.”
“So we can probably rule out the church?”
“Not necessarily. A lot of the antiquities smuggled out of South America these days are religious artifacts and paintings stolen from small rural churches. A minister ignorant of the artifact’s provenance may eagerly accept such a donation for the church.”
“Sure, but a donation doesn’t make the smuggler any money.”
“True.” I tilted my head to look at Nate’s profile as he drove. “You planning on asking Carly out?”
He laughed. “You didn’t think I was really interested in her, did you?”
I don’t know why, but I shrugged as if it didn’t matter to me one way or the other. Maybe I wanted to see how he’d react. See if he’d know I was teasing the way I teased Tanner.
His eyes twinkled. “She’s not my type.”
“What’s your—”
A text alert from Tanner interrupted the question: Any new developments?
I glanced at Nate and then thumbed in Not sure yet and hid a smile.
7
No one answered the door at the West Chop address Preston had given us—a two-story mansion perched on a hill overlooking the ocean.
Nate stepped back and lifted his gaze to the second story. “Your uncle had a real gift for design.”
I pressed my nose to the front window and cupped my hands around my eyes. “Doesn’t look like the owner has moved in yet. There are only ladders and paint tarps inside.” My phone rang and I glanced at the screen. “It’s the Boston FBI agent I told you about.” I clicked the phone to connect. “What did you find out?”
“Ben Hill’s call came from the island,” Isaak said without preamble.
“He’s here?” Ben was Ashley’s only living relative. If he killed Jack, she’d be deva— My throat constricted, choking off my breath. Was that why he didn’t want her to know he was here?
It could’ve been a perfect alibi if he hadn’t made the mistake of using his phone once he got here.
“Can’t say for sure if he’s still here,” Isaak went on. “The phone is no longer emitting a signal.”
“Maybe his battery died, or he just got smart and turned off his phone,” Nate said, apparently listening in.
“Have you read any of Ben’s articles?” Isaak asked.
“No, why?”
“I scanned some this morning to see if anything popped. He’s written at least two articles on Maya sites in South America. And from the details he included, he’s clearly talked to looters firsthand.”
“Did you tell the state police?”
“Not yet. Lying to his sister about his whereabouts isn’t a crime. And if he decides to turn up and play innocent, it’s probably better if he doesn’t know we’re on to him. In the meantime, I’ll run a more thorough background check. Check out his acquaintances. You know the drill.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure he’s met Carly, given his uncle was going to marry her mother. Did her background check turn up anything?”
“Haven’t heard back on that one yet.”
“Okay, keep me posted.”
Nate opened the car door for me. “What do you want to do?”
I climbed in, then twisted around and snatched the photo of Ben from Jack’s box in the backseat. “Let’s go to Vineyard Haven and see if anyone remembers seeing him.”
As we drove into town, Nate spotted Mosher’s. “Let’s drop the film off now. Then the photos may be done by the time your parents need to be picked up.”
We made quick work of dropping off the film, and while I was at it I made a copy of Ben’s photo, so Nate and I could split up. A few minutes later we parked across the street from the dock. A ferry was approaching, so the timing was perfect to catch all the waiting cabbies. “You start at that end. I’ll start at this end.”
Most of the cabbies scarcely gave the photo a glance before saying something along the lines of “I see too many faces a day to remember.” When the next cabbie in line responded with “Why are you looking for Ben?” my stomach dipped.
“You know him?” Are you helping him? Will you tell him people are looking for him? The questions piled up in my mind so fast I almost missed his answer to the one I’d uttered aloud.
“Sure, we went to high school together. I read about his uncle on social media this morning. That’s rough.”
“Have you seen him? His sister can’t get a hold of him and is super worried.”
The guy chuckled. “Knowing Ben, he probably hooked up with a girl and is oblivious to the news.”
“You’ve seen him, then,” I pressed, since he hadn’t exactly answered my question.
“Yeah, he came in on the ferry the night before last. I spotted him hitchhiking to his uncle’s out on State Road and stopped to say ‘hi.’ I had a full van or I would’ve given him a lift myself.”
“Do you know what time that was?” The ferry’s horn blew and all the cabbies straightened, their gazes streaking toward the gangplank. “It’s important,” I added.
Ben’s friend dragged his attention back to me. “Yeah, sure. Not long after the six fifteen ferry got in.”
“Thank you. Ashley will be relieved to hear it. And please, if you see Ben again, let him know his sister needs him.”
“Of course. Give her my condolences. My name’s Dan. Dan Reece.”
“I will.”
Nate squeezed my shoulder. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Did you hear that?” I whispered. “I have an eyewitness that puts Ben on the island before sunset the night Jack died.”
“Is that good?”
“Well, not if I want him to be innocent, I guess.”
“Okay,” Nate said. “I’m thinking we might have a more urgent issue to handle.”
“What?”
“I spotted Carmen Malgucci on the gangplank and he’s headed our way.”
I tracked the direction of Nate’s gaze. Carmen looked like one of those iconic Italian actors who always played a mafia character—dark hair, slightly overweight, bulbous-nosed. He first met Aunt Martha when she mistook him (whether rightly, the jury was still out) for exactly that. “Does Aunt Martha know?”
The night
they met, she’d asked him if he could “get her a kidney” . . . the transplant kind, for the wife of a museum security guard; a security guard who also happened to be a suspect in one of my cases. As luck would have it—not that I really believed in luck—Carmen had lost his wife to kidney failure and was so moved by Aunt Martha’s story that he offered to be tested as a donor. The rest, as they say, is history.
“Do you think she would’ve been renewing acquaintances with Winston if she knew?” Nate said as he thumbed a message into his phone.
“Sure, why not? It’s not as if she and Carmen are exclusively dating or anything.”
Nate slipped his phone back into his pocket, his gaze returning to Carmen. “Hate to break this to you, but when a guy drops everything to get on a plane to make sure his friend is okay, he’s thinking otherwise.”
I think my chin might’ve dropped, because it sounded as if he wasn’t just talking about Carmen. But Nate’s phone chose that moment to ring.
The instant he clicked to connect, Aunt Martha’s voice rang out. “Very funny, Nate.”
Apparently his feverish texting a moment ago had been a warning message to Aunt Martha, because he said firmly, “I’m not joking.”
“Oh dear. What was Carmen thinking? I just called to tell him Ward and Serena had had a bit of trouble. Nothing that should’ve prompted him to hop on a plane.”
“Clearly he’s fonder of your family than you realized.”
Huh, that was pretty sweet.
“I’m guessing he’ll want to rent a car,” Nate said. “Do you want us to give him Preston’s address or suggest he follow us home? It’d buy you more time since we still have to pick up the photos and her parents.”
“Don’t be silly. Give him the address. He won’t be jealous of Winston.”
“Yeah, he will.”
“Okay, okay, thanks for the heads-up.”
I couldn’t help giggling. “Mom won’t believe it. Shoots a few holes in her ‘do you want to end up a spinster like your great aunt?’ arguments.”
We greeted Malgucci and helped him sort out a car rental, then gave him directions to Preston’s. Nate added the address of the bed-and-breakfast he was staying at near there.
Oh, wow, I hadn’t given any thought to where Nate would be staying or that he likely hadn’t slept in the past twenty-four hours.
“You must be beat,” I said to him after Malgucci drove off. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Sure. I had a power nap while the plane was on autopilot.” He winked and my stomach did the kind of whoop-de-whirl I imagined his unattended plane doing.
“Uh . . . how about we grab a bite and eat at the beach? Give you a chance to close your eyes for a few minutes before we have to pick up my dad?” He looked like he could use more sleep, despite what he’d said.
He grinned. “I never say no to the beach.”
We picked up a couple of sandwiches and water bottles from a nearby coffee shop, and as we returned to the car, I noticed a black sedan idling at the curb a few cars behind Nate’s rental. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except that it pulled out a heartbeat after we did and trailed us to Owen Park. The sedan parked at the road, but the driver didn’t get out. I climbed out and peered over at it but couldn’t make out the driver or get an angle on the license plate.
“What’s wrong?” Nate asked.
I skirted Nate’s rental to come up on the back of the sedan. “I think that car is following us.” Now that I thought about it, I’m pretty sure the same car had been idling across the street from where we’d spotted Carly and Gaudy Souvenir Guy.
The sedan took off before I could get close to it.
Nate squinted after it. “Probably just a tourist who doesn’t know where he’s going.”
“Hmm.” After what happened to Dad, I was probably being a little paranoid.
Nate spread out a big beach towel he’d pulled from his car, and we sat down and ate.
The sky was blue and the ocean even bluer. “This is gorgeous,” Nate said.
“Yeah. Too bad the water’s still way too cold to swim. Although, I’ve got to say that I prefer the relative quietness of the island this time of year to the wall-to-wall tourists I used to see during my summer visits.”
“Would you want to live in a place as isolated as your friend Ashley does?”
“I don’t know. In any other part of America, probably not. Between lowlifes and the aggressive strains of wildlife, I wouldn’t feel safe going out for a morning run. But here, there are no bears—”
“No? Your aunt mentioned polar bears.” The sparkle in his eye gave away that Aunt Martha must’ve also informed him the so-called polar bears were a group of women who gathered each morning to exercise, sing spirituals, and swim at Inkwell Beach.
I laughed. “No furry bears with sharp claws and even sharper teeth. And people don’t even worry about locking their doors. At least, they didn’t when I used to come here as a kid. I guess maybe that’s changing these days.”
“So you feel safer living in a city that has over a hundred murders a year?”
I shrugged. Sure, it didn’t make sense, but . . . “The only place I’m likely to run into a bear is if one escapes from the zoo. How about you? Could you see yourself living in the countryside?”
“Sure. As long as I have a wife and kids to share it with.” He held my gaze, not in the teasing way Tanner might have after saying something like that, but in an open this-is-my-dream-any-chance-you’d-want-to-share-it kind of way.
My pulse tripped. I told myself I was imagining things and turned my attention to my sandwich, which had somehow spilled over my hand.
“My grandparents had a farm when I was a kid,” Nate went on. “I used to love to visit. There was so much more for a boy to do and to explore.”
“Better than loitering at the mall or going brain-dead playing video games,” I said, recovering my equilibrium.
“Exactly.”
Starting to get a little anxious that I hadn’t heard from Mom yet, I tried reaching her by phone. She didn’t answer, so I suggested we pick up the photos and then head to the hospital.
I thumbed through the photos as Nate drove. “Well, this was a dead end. Only six pictures turned out. All of them ocean sunsets.” No murderer that I could see lurked in the foreground.
“You’ll figure this out,” Nate said confidently, pulling into the hospital parking lot.
I tucked the envelope into my purse, not feeling nearly as optimistic. “Why don’t you wait here and catch a few winks while I find out what’s going on.”
I found Dad test-driving a pair of crutches in the lobby as Mom cheered him on. He grinned when he saw me. “Not bad for an old man, huh?”
“You’re not old.” I kissed his cheek. “You’ve already been released? Why didn’t you call?”
“I did,” Mom said. “Got your voice mail.”
I checked my phone and a missed-message alert lit the screen. “I’m sorry. It looks as if it just came in. I must’ve been in a dead zone.”
“Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” Mom held open the door for Dad as I led the way to the rental.
Ten feet from the car, Mom gasped. “What’s Nate doing here?”
“Didn’t Aunt Martha tell you? After hearing about the accident, he flew through the night to come to make sure I was okay.”
“Oh.”
Oh? This from the mother who was after me at every opportunity to settle down and give her grandchildren. Oh was all she could say?
“That’s great,” Dad said. “Isn’t that great, June?” he prodded.
Mom’s enthusiasm livened up a fraction. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’m just tired, I guess.”
Nate woke up when I opened the passenger side door. He jumped out and helped Dad ease in.
“What a nice surprise,” Mom said to Nate. “Are you planning to stay long?”
He must’ve heard the same odd note in her voi
ce that I had, because he shot me a questioning look, to which I shrugged. “As long as I’m needed,” he answered chivalrously.
“That’s nice,” Mom murmured and climbed into the backseat. Only she didn’t sound as if she thought it was nice, and an ominous foreboding swept over me like the darkening clouds swallowing the sun.
I joined Mom in the backseat. “Are you feeling okay?”
She glanced toward the front of the car, her gaze gliding off Nate’s in the rearview mirror, before returning to me. She squeezed my hand. “Yes. Sad, of course, for Ashley and Ben and Jack’s fiancée, but grateful that you and Dad are safe. Have they set a date for the funeral?”
“Not yet.” I explained the reason for the delay, then we traveled in silence the rest of the way back to Preston’s. I debated taking the opportunity to fill Dad in on our visit with Frank Dale, but I suspected Dad might not want Mom to know about his suspicions of Jack’s business partner. As we turned into Preston’s driveway and I spotted Malgucci’s rental, I opened my mouth to explain, but Mom spoke first.
“Oh, look, someone else has arrived,” she sing-songed. “Who do you suppose that could be?”
“I forgot to mention Carmen Malgucci also flew in. He wanted to make sure Aunt Martha is safe too.”
“Oh dear,” Mom fretted. “What will the police think if she shows up at Jack’s visitation with a mobster on her arm?”
“He’s not a mobster.” At least, not that anyone had proved. It was more a case of guilt by association. Or perhaps in Malgucci’s case, by bloodline. Personally, I’d never seen any evidence he was into anything illegal, and I was grateful he didn’t have any qualms about donning the family facade if it meant keeping the people he cared about out of trouble. As he’d proved a few months ago, when a couple of lackeys for the Russian mob threatened to take out Aunt Martha and me.
Carmen and Aunt Martha yoo-hooed from the veranda, where they were sharing afternoon tea. Aunt Martha, like my grandparents and parents, was born in Britain. Naturally, their immediate response to the arrival of company was to brew tea. We’d never gotten into crumpets, but oh, how I loved it when Aunt Martha made her scones with Devonshire cream.
“Earth to Serena.” Nate nudged my shoulder with his.
Over Maya Dead Body Page 7