by Clover Tate
“Marcus is a crank, I’ll give you that. But do you really see him as a murderer?”
Again, the sheriff didn’t reply. I thought I caught a hint of doubt.
“You know about his wife.”
“It’s been more than five years, and he’s still not over it. Grief can grow and twist in a person’s heart, Emmy. I’ve seen it. It can make a person do dangerous things.”
“But kill?”
He leaned over the desk. “I didn’t ignore Caitlin Ruder, you know. She has a clean arrest record. There’s nothing in her past to suggest she’d do anything more than leave the beach house with an outsized cleaning bill.”
“So you’re not going to do anything about her.”
“My hands are tied. Jasmine’s death is no longer a homicide case.”
I was so frustrated I couldn’t speak. “How can you say this, with Stella in the hospital?”
“The tribal police are investigating her accident. But can you prove that it’s linked to Jasmine’s death?”
“Can you prove it’s not?”
He rose. Our conversation was over. “That’s not how it works. Right now my efforts are focused on finding Marcus. As for the rest, my hands are tied.”
The sheriff had been clear. Caitlin was at the bottom of his list of suspects. Fine. I’d clear every other suspect off that list until she rose to the top.
• • •
I patted my cardigan pocket. Both glass vials— once used to store pins for making kites—were there. North of town, I took the spur lane that ended in the beach house Jasmine had rented. I’d only seen the house from the beach, not from the street. From this side, with an asphalt driveway out front and crisply painted white trim, the house could have been lifted from a Los Angeles suburb. Only the hulking silhouette of the rocks in the ocean beyond, which gave Rock Point its name, told that the house was on Oregon’s rugged coast and not the tamer beaches of Southern California.
A rental sedan was in the driveway next to the house. Caitlin was home. I hesitated, but thought of Stella, still unconscious in the critical care unit, and parked on the street. A quick glance behind me showed no one. I didn’t need to be caught visiting the kite festival judge.
I rang the doorbell and waited a moment, but no one answered. In my experience, the chance that a doorbell functioned—even in a new house like this one—was fifty-fifty. So I knocked. That didn’t bring anyone to the door, either.
I crept around the side, up the driveway, and up the stairs to the deck at the rear. There she was, Caitlin Ruder, stretched out on a chaise in a metallic bronze bikini. The architect had cleverly designed a waist-high parapet that opened to the ocean on the west, but shielded sunbathers from the wind down the beach. Caitlin’s tan was already a shade more golden than her hair. Her take on the Kingmaker Spy’s girlfriend would definitely play more dangerous than Jasmine’s.
“Hello,” I said loudly enough to be heard over the surf.
“Could you do something about the couch in the den? I spilled my drink.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I opened my mouth to say something innocuous, and at the same time Caitlin reached for her glass. She sat up all at once, popping her sunglasses onto her hair. She squinted. “I thought you were the maid. What are you doing here?”
I decided to take that as an invitation and sat in the sculpted chair next to her. “I wanted to see how you are, if you need anything,” I lied. “I know you’ve had a rough time with Jasmine’s death.”
She stared at me. “I’m fine.” She held out her glass. “But if you care that much, you could make me another rum and coke.” She pulled the sunglasses over her eyes again and lay back.
The living room was a mess of rumpled clothing and magazines. A jug of rum was on the counter. I opened the refrigerator. A bottle of diet cola and a to-go box were its only occupants, except for the row of insulin vials still inside the door. I hurried the door shut and reached into the freezer for ice.
It would have been so easy for Caitlin to kill Jasmine. She’d seen Jasmine inject herself with insulin, so she’d know where to put the needle. A few questions about dose, asked with feigned concern, would tell her how much insulin would be fatal. Then all she’d have to do is pocket a bottle and wait until the time was right. Jasmine was a heavy sleeper. Caitlin would have crept up the stairs, syringe in hand . . .
“What are you doing in there?” Caitlin shouted from the deck.
“Coming,” I replied.
The drink I brought Caitlin was stronger than I’d make for myself, but I wanted her loose. I wanted her to betray herself. I wasn’t sure what she’d say and how she’d give herself away, but she’d been here when Jasmine died. She surely held one of the pieces to the puzzle of her death. That is, if she didn’t plan the whole thing herself.
I brought her the drink. She sipped, then relaxed again onto the lounge chair. “Perfect. Thank you. So, why are you really here?” If she felt threatened, she didn’t show it. I couldn’t tell under her sunglasses if her eyes were closed, but I guessed that they were.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, it’s not like we’re best friends. You don’t care if I’m fine—except that you need a healthy judge for the kite festival. What do you really want?”
“Okay, you’re right. I was hoping you could help me out.”
A short laugh escaped her, as if I’d asked something ludicrous. “You’re kidding, right?”
I stood at the edge of the deck and looked down the path I’d taken that night. Up close to the house, the path cut between large rocks, meant to keep the bluff from eroding, and beach grass. About ten yards down, the bluff met the beach.
“No.” I turned to her and leaned on the deck’s railing. “It’s about Nicky Byrd from the National Bloodhound. I thought you might be able to tell me how to deal with him.”
She sat up. “He’s not still in town, is he?”
“I just saw him this morning.”
“Jesus.” She slipped on a loose cover-up that rippled in the wind. “Let’s go inside.”
“I’d rather stay out here, if you don’t mind. The sun feels good.”
She looked at me as if she wasn’t used to having her suggestions ignored. She picked up her drink and moved to a chair. Something she’d used to slick back her short hair shone in the light. “All right. Have it your way. What do you want to know?”
“What do I do? He won’t leave me alone.”
“What does he want to know?”
It bothered me that I couldn’t see her eyes under her dark glasses, but her body was still. “He wants me to tell him about the night Jasmine died, what I saw from the beach, then the reenactment.”
“Don’t do it,” she snapped.
“He offered me money and publicity for my store, and he even threatened to make up his own story that made me look like the murderer.” I turned again toward the beach and felt for the bottles in my pocket. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been after you, too.”
“He knows he wouldn’t get anywhere with me. Nicky Byrd is a pathetic fraud. His dream was to get on one of the TV entertainment shows, but they wouldn’t have him. He doesn’t have the looks, no matter how much makeup he wears.”
“He’s good at digging things up,” I said. “You have to admit that.” The bottle was hard in my hand. If Jasmine had taken her insulin on the deck, and the bottle fell and rolled, it couldn’t possibly land as far as I’d found the bottle the night of the reenactment.
“Don’t tell him anything. That’s my advice. Once he sees that you’ll give, you’ll never get rid of him.”
“Is he really that bad?”
“How do you think he gets the information he does? It’s blackmail or bribery with him.”
“Extortion,” I said.
“What?”
; “Blackmail is when you take money for not revealing something. With extortion, you get something you want through a threat.”
She looked at me with faint disgust and jingled the ice in her now-empty glass. “Whatever. I’m going in for another drink. You want one?”
“No, thanks.”
Her back would have to be to me to get in the freezer. As soon as she reached the kitchen, I dropped the bottle off the deck, as if I’d carelessly knocked it there. It rolled a few feet and stuck in a clump of beach grass. No, the bottle I’d found had been thrown. If it was thrown, someone had wanted to get rid of it.
Caitlin was back on the deck, drink in hand, before I could throw the second bottle.
I took in the house with its designer angles. “Are you afraid of staying out here alone? I mean, I just walked up.”
Her laughter startled me. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“Who are you worried about, then?”
“I’ve answered all the questions I need to with the sheriff.”
Somehow, I’d rankled her. She settled uneasily into a chair.
“I did see someone lurking here that night, you know. No one seems to know who it was.”
“I thought the sheriff suspected that local guy, the same one who slashed Jasmine’s tires.”
“He left town. They haven’t found him yet.”
Seagulls screamed nearby. To me, the beach was best when trees surrounded you, like at Avery’s house. Up there we heard robins in the morning.
“I’m not afraid. Bored is more like it. If it weren’t for that kite festival, I’d be home by now.”
“You have a movie role, right? Nicky Byrd told me. The Kingmaker Spy movie. The role Jasmine was going to take.” I’d called the agent Nicky Byrd had told me about that morning, and they confirmed that the role was now Caitlin’s.
A hard look came into her eyes. “You’re accusing me, aren’t you?”
I didn’t reply.
“Jasmine isn’t the right type for that role. She was too passive.”
“But they offered it to her.”
Caitlin raised a meticulously plucked eyebrow. When I didn’t respond, she said, “She needed it. She was stone broke.”
“But she was a star. How could she not have money? Plus, what about Kyle?”
“Kyle.” She shook her head. “He’s worthless. Jasmine was his life raft. I suppose he’ll hook up with Rose now.”
“Rose? You’re joking.”
“You haven’t noticed?” She took in a long sip of her drink. “She has a thing for him.”
This was ridiculous. How could Caitlin say such a thing? “You’ve known Rose for a while, then.”
“I don’t need to.” She moved to the lounge chair and rolled onto her back.
Caitlin’s dismissive attitude was getting under my skin. “You know, some people might think you were the one with the designs on Kyle.”
She was silent. I waited. “Nope. Not going to happen,” she said finally.
“He’s a nice-looking guy.” I risked it. “Some people might think you’d even kill her yourself.” I forced a laugh.
She laughed, too, but hers was genuine. “Go home, kite lady. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ve got this all wrapped up.”
All at once, I turned suddenly and threw the remaining bottle as far as I could. It hit a boulder and bounced just off the path, not as far as where I’d found the other bottle, but almost.
“What was that?” Caitlin stood abruptly, sunglasses in hand.
“Just something in my pocket I wanted to get rid of.”
Caitlin glared at me. Her lips drew together. “You’re counting on winning the kite festival, aren’t you?”
I didn’t tell her I’d already thrown the shop’s future away with Nicky Byrd.
“Good luck with that,” she said. “Good-bye.”
chapter twenty-six
With the kite festival almost here, business was brisk at Strings Attached. As I helped customers, I was curiously detached, as if I were watching a movie of the life I loved, but knowing all the while that it was on the verge of dissolving. When the Bloodhound came out tomorrow, it would all be over. It would be worth it, though, if I could put Caitlin in jail. Yes, Jasmine’s death was awful. But no one was going to try to kill my friend and get away with it.
So, it was with a clear goal in mind that I closed up the shop for lunch and walked up to Rose’s office.
The roses growing up the trellised side of her office hummed with bees and smelled narcotically sweet. Inside, Rose worked steadily, methodically. I was relieved to see that Sunny wasn’t there.
I knocked at her windowed door. She lifted her head from the computer and motioned for me to come in.
“Hi, Emmy. This is a surprise.”
I took the chair across from her. “I needed a walk and thought I’d check in to see how Sunny did. She said you offered her an internship.”
Rose moved her mouse to do something to the document she was working on, then looked up from the computer screen. “She’s a godsend. Business has been growing lately, and I’ve had a hard time keeping up with some of the basic chores. Sunny is so excited about finance that I couldn’t resist. She’s a perfect fit.”
“She loves it. She came home with ideas to expand Strings Attached into an empire.”
“Good ideas, too.” Rose slipped on a pair of glasses and pulled an index card from a neat stack at her desk’s corner. “I saved this one. It has to do with you buying your building again. She worked out some sound calculations.”
“I don’t have the cash right now.” Not that it would matter, anyway, I thought. I took the index card from her, glanced at it, and returned it. “As you know.”
“Well, don’t worry about Sunny. She’s doing great. Thank you for sending her my way.”
I pressed on. “I’m glad she’s thinning out your work, especially now with everything surrounding Jasmine.” I couldn’t bring myself to mention her death specifically. “I guess they still haven’t found Marcus.”
Rose’s expression was hard to read. “No. The sheriff has had a lot of questions, though.”
“I’m sure. Kyle has probably had to answer a few, too, about his whereabouts. A shame, especially given how awful he must feel, to have the police bothering him.” I glanced up to catch her reaction.
She nodded. “It was a quick interview, and they let him go. I was in Portland for an estate-planning workshop. He flew in from L.A. that night. I picked him up at the airport and took him to get a rental car. He didn’t leave for Rock Point until the next morning.”
Kyle was in the clear, then. I could verify a morning flight from Los Angeles by looking online, although I wouldn’t be able to tell if Kyle had been on the passenger list. The sheriff would have taken care of that. But I felt good about her explanation.
“I heard about Stella’s accident,” Rose said. “I hope she’ll be okay.”
My heart clenched. “I can’t believe someone did this to her.”
“What?” Rose’s hand dropped to her desktop. “I thought she ran off the road. An accident.”
“The sheriff told me yesterday. Someone messed with her brake lines at Spirit Mountain. She could have died.” I swallowed. I’d get Caitlin if it was the last thing I did.
“Spirit Mountain, huh?” she asked quietly. “So strange.” She fidgeted with a pencil.
“The sheriff says it was sabotage. Someone wanted her to run off the road.”
“Oh, Emmy. What’s happening around here?” Rose’s expression held some of the queer mixture of anger and grief that I felt, too.
“I wish I knew.” All these visitors were streaming into Rock Point for the kite festival, thinking it was just a charming fishing village with a good gastropub. Somewhere to spend a day, or maybe a weekend. In t
his case, ignorance truly was bliss.
I stood. So did Rose. “I’ll let you get back to work. How was your dinner at the Tidal Basin?” I asked.
“Very good. Even Kyle was impressed.”
“Great. You deserved a nice night out after everything you’ve been through.”
“And you and Jack? Did you finish your business?”
I could tell from her eyes that “business” had multiple meanings in this case. “Uh, sure.” Even if we were bosom friends, I’m not sure how else I could have responded. Jack had heard my plea to take things slowly, and he’d agreed. Then we’d made out on the dock.
“These things are complicated, aren’t they?” Rose said.
I laughed. “It’s embarrassing. The whole town is watching our—I don’t know what to call it—”
“Maybe simply ‘romance’?”
“—Unfold.”
Rose slipped off her glasses. “I wouldn’t worry about it. They’ve all been through the same thing themselves.”
“Thanks for that.” I had a hand on the doorknob but drew it away. I didn’t want to, but I might as well think ahead. “Could we make an appointment to talk about what would happen if I have to give up Strings Attached?” I kept my eyes on my feet as I asked.
“What are you saying?”
“I mean, if I had to give it up, if I couldn’t make ends meet.”
“Emmy, you’re not thinking of closing the shop, are you? From looking at your financials, you’re doing really well.” She gestured to the chair across from her. “Sit down. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong message when I told you to plan for the winter.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I said, remaining on my feet.
“Now isn’t the time to give up on Strings Attached. Look at your business again in the spring. Make a decision then.”
“I wish it were that easy. You know the National Bloodhound reporter?”
“I’ve seen him around. He was bothering me, but Kyle scared him off.”