by Anne Canadeo
“Seems like the police have blocked the path,” Amy said.
Dana stood at the fence and turned to face them. “We don’t need to join the crowd to see what’s happened. Look down at the beach.”
Lucy walked over with Amy and peered down at the rocky shoreline. It looked as if the tide was coming in. Lucy saw more police vehicles on the beach, and an ambulance. In the quickly shrinking space between the ocean’s foamy edge and the piles of rocks at the bottom of the cliff, an area of the shoreline was cordoned off with tape and more orange cones. A woman and a man dressed in summer clothes kneeled beside a body.
A lifeless body, Lucy realized, noticing how the emergency responders stood at the back of an ambulance, looking on and chatting with each other. If there had been any chance of survival, they would have been working on the fallen victim or loading the person into the ambulance.
It was hard to tell from the top of the cliff, but Lucy thought the corpse looked like a man in jogging shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers. His limbs were arranged at odd angles, like a starfish that had been dashed against the rocks by the tide.
Lucy caught sight of the body, and quickly stepped back. A bitter feeling rose in the back of her throat. “Oh my gosh . . . what a fate.” She turned to Dana and Amy. “I wonder who it is. Someone from this community?”
“Not necessarily . . . a lot of people from town and other parts of the island go out on the walk. It stretches from here all the way to the land bridge, and a few miles past Osprey Shores in the other direction. There’s access to the public along the way.” Lucy sensed Amy hoped it was someone from outside the community, someone who was not a neighbor.
Dana gave a final glance and looked over at Lucy. “A tragic accident. His poor family.”
“Yes . . . what a way to go,” Lucy agreed.
“Lucy! Dana!”
Lucy looked up the path. Suzanne and Maggie walked toward them. Had they been first to the scene?
“Someone fell off the cliff. A jogger. It’s so awful,” Suzanne said.
“Do the police know who it is?” Amy asked.
“I think so,” Maggie replied. “Though nobody in the crowd seems to know yet.”
“Did Phoebe sleep through that racket?” Lucy asked.
“She woke up. Quite grumpy, I might add. She didn’t want to go back outside with us, either.”
“But of course, we had to be lookie-lous. Even on vacation,” Suzanne admitted.
A white pickup truck displaying the Osprey Shores logo bumped across the lawn and pulled to a stop near the walkway. Sam Briggs emerged from the driver’s side, and a woman came out of the passenger door. Two uniformed policemen walked up to her.
Lucy recognized Sam’s passenger immediately. The underwear model . . . who could easily be a brain surgeon, Lucy corrected herself again.
“That woman was in our yoga class. I think her name is Tanya,” Lucy said.
“Tanya Morton. Julian Morton’s wife,” Amy replied quietly.
“You mean she’s married to that awful man at the poker game last night? The one who caused the uproar?” Maggie asked.
Amy nodded. “Yes. Though I wonder why Sam drove her here. Maybe he was at her cottage, and she got a call from the police.”
“Not a good sign,” Dana said quietly.
“It can only mean one thing,” Suzanne said. “That must be her husband’s body down on the beach.”
Lucy knew that, too, but hadn’t wanted to be the one to say it aloud.
She watched Tanya Morton wait by the police car, her head bowed, her hands covering her face. Sam stood next to her. He reached out and touched her shoulder, then crossed his arms over his chest.
The officers soon walked Tanya over to a vehicle that looked like a big dune buggy, its large, high wheels suitable for off-road or driving on the beach. Tanya took a seat and a police officer got in the driver’s side. Lucy had often been on the beach in her hometown after dark and seen this sort of police department jeep patrolling the shore.
The jeep turned in a tight circle on the grass and then roared down the road to the entrance gate. Sam watched a moment, then got back in his truck and drove away.
“Where are they going?” Lucy asked.
“There are a few foot paths that lead down to the beach, and a long flight of stairs. But there’s only one road, about a mile down the shoreline,” Amy said. “I guess he’s taking her that way.”
To identify the body, Lucy guessed.
“Wow . . . I can’t believe it.” Suzanne pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. “Talk about here today, gone tomorrow. We just saw the guy last night, alive and kickin’—and giving everybody hell. I don’t even know the man, and I’m in shock.”
“It is a shock. One that will have your neighbors reeling,” Maggie said to Amy.
Amy sighed and nodded. She zipped up her nylon hoodie, and rubbed her arms as if she felt a sudden chill, even though the fog had burned away to reveal a blue sky and high, puffy white clouds. “I’m sure the whole development is buzzing by now,” she said. “Julian Morton was very well known. Though I can’t say very well liked.”
If last night was any indication of Dr. Morton’s social skills, Lucy had no doubt that Amy’s words were true.
Amy pulled out her phone and tapped a text message. “I want to tell Rob. He went surf casting this morning. He’s probably not back yet.”
She sounded a little worried about her husband, Lucy thought. Or maybe she’s just set off balance by this horrific news. After all, she knew the man personally. Whether or not she liked him, it was still a shock to hear that Dr. Morton had died so suddenly and in such an awful way.
“Rob must be wild about fishing if he went out in that fog,” Suzanne said. “How can the fish even see the hook?”
Maggie looked puzzled. “I don’t think you want the fish to see the hook, Suzanne. Only the bait. Maybe they sense that.”
“I have no clue.” Amy shrugged and tucked the phone back in her pocket. “He’s tried every sport and outdoor pastime—tennis, golf, kayaking, and even model trains. This is the only one that stuck. He’s really gotten into it since we moved here. He’s got all the gear and clothing, and every once in a while, he even brings home a fish.”
Everyone laughed. Lucy secretly identified. Matt often teased her about the same thing, saying she seemed to like the outfits and gadgets for her hobbies as much as the actual activity.
“He enjoys it. That’s the main thing,” Dana said. “Fishing is a very meditative pursuit. Maybe he needs the alone time to mull over his ideas for new inventions.”
“That’s just the way I feel about knitting,” Maggie said. “It calms the mind and soul.”
“Me, too. And I’ve encouraged him to knit. Even though our group is mostly women, there’s Lewis Fielding. He’s not afraid to seem feminine, and he turns out some beautiful work. Maybe in the winter,” Amy added, “when it’s too cold for Rob to stand out on the beach.”
“The weather has certainly taken a turn this morning. For the better,” Maggie said. She glanced over at the crowd still stationed by the police vehicles and yellow tape that marked off the area of the accident. “I don’t know about all of you, but I think we’ve learned everything there is to know so far about poor Dr. Morton’s passing. I’m going to head back to the cottage.”
Lucy and her other friends had also seen enough and agreed to join her. Amy’s cottage was not far from theirs, and she decided to walk back with them. A few minutes later they reached a turn in the path that led to Amy’s place.
“I’ll check in with you later,” Amy said to Suzanne. “Maybe we can meet up at the pool? I don’t think it’s a good day for the beach, not with all the police down there. It will probably go on for hours.”
“Yes, let’s meet at the pool. Don’t forget to bring your knitting,” Suzanne replied.
“I rarely leave the house without it. See you later.”
Despite Amy’s cheery wave, Lucy still
sensed some anxiety, like static on a smiley face screen saver. It’s the bad news we just heard. It upset her, Lucy told herself.
As they turned up the path toward their cottage, Lucy spotted Phoebe. She was knitting, of course, seated on the porch swing, the needle clicks coordinated with the back-and-forth motion. Lucy was sure she could never manage that feat.
“Hey, everybody. Glad you finally came back. I was getting lonesome.” She finished a row and looked up at her friends. “Especially after the creepy news I just heard. That awful old guy at the poker game—the one with the goatee?—he fell off the cliff.”
“Yes, we know,” Maggie said. “How did you hear?”
“I was on the beach, sketching birds and taking photos. The plover are nesting now. They’re adorable, all cuddled up in their nests in the dunes.”
“I bet they are, if you like birds. But how did you hear about Morton? You didn’t see him take the swan dive, did you?” Leave it to Suzanne to find a brash pun in the question.
“Suzanne. Some respect for the deceased, please,” Maggie said.
Suzanne shrugged, not looking very contrite.
“No, I didn’t see him fall. Thank goodness.” Phoebe put her knitting aside. “The shoreline is very curvy. I walked pretty far down the beach and around a bend to see the birds. I did hear . . . a scream. Then some fishermen who were down there shouting to each other. A little while later, I heard all the sirens, so I walked back up the shoreline to see what was going on.”
“Goodness. That must have been a ghastly sight.” Maggie stared at Phoebe with a grave expression.
“Once I found out what happened, I didn’t go closer. But I did see his body, from a distance. It had landed on a big pile of rocks.” She sighed and let out a long breath. “I knew there was no hope for the poor man. There were lots of police officers there. They took down everyone’s name and asked us some questions. I didn’t really understand why. I mean, the guy must have tripped or slipped or something. It was just a horrible accident.”
“You know the police. They need to be very thorough in a case like this.” Dana took a seat in a wicker chair, and Lucy did the same. “The next of kin need to know how an accident like that could have happened. They need a sense of closure.”
“Not to mention a detailed report for the lawsuit they’ll probably file,” Suzanne added. “I bet the Morton family can get millions out of this developer. Maybe that fence isn’t high enough or strong enough for joggers. Maybe the gravel on the path is too slippery.”
“Maybe he got disoriented in the fog,” Lucy offered. “And took a step in the wrong direction.”
“That’s all it would take,” Dana agreed.
“But could not have happened if there was better lighting on the walk.” Suzanne sat on the wicker couch and slipped off her sunglasses.
Phoebe had brought out a pitcher of lemonade, a bowl of corn chips, and salsa. That had probably been her breakfast, Lucy realized. Phoebe picked up a chip and crunched noisily.
“Suzanne, you missed your calling. You should have been a lawyer,” Maggie said.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. That line is even more stressful than real estate. I might have been hugely successful . . . but I would have also been plain huge.” She held out a chip clutched between her thumb and index finger. “See this? Stress eating. I don’t know why, but hearing that someone died always makes me hungry. Even though I don’t even know the guy.”
“Oh, the poets knew all about that reaction. It’s perfectly natural. Eat, drink, and be merry,” Maggie offered. “For tomorrow yea may—”
“Don’t even say it,” Phoebe interrupted. “We all know the punch line. And that one about gathering rose buds, too.”
“I’m hungry. I hardly had any breakfast,” Lucy said. “Let’s have an early lunch and head to the pool.”
“Good plan. Lead the way.” Suzanne rose from her seat on the wicker couch and popped a last chip in her mouth.
Just as Lucy was about to go inside, she spotted a police officer walking up the path. She turned and glanced at her friends. They all looked interested to see the reason for this visit, and waited silently as the blue uniform came closer. Dana and Maggie came to their feet.
“Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Officer Hobart, Eaton’s Landing police department.” He was in uniform but still flashed his ID. “As you may already know, a resident fell to his death from the cliff walk this morning. We’re meeting with everyone in the community to find eyewitnesses, or to see if anyone has information that can help us put the pieces together.”
Dana stood nearest to the officer. She glanced at him, her head tilted to one side. “To understand how the accident happened, you mean?”
Officer Hobart took a pad and pen from his back pocket. “We can’t say for sure that it was an accident yet.”
“You mean someone may have pushed him? Or he jumped off intentionally?” Lucy didn’t mean to just blurt out her questions but she could tell from her friends’ faces that they wondered the same thing.
“We’re still investigating how and why it happened.” The officer’s expression remained serious and unreadable. “I only have a few questions. This won’t take long.”
After taking down their names and contact information, he asked what had brought them to Osprey Shores.
“A girls’ getaway,” Suzanne explained. “Lucy is getting married next weekend. We wanted to take her away for some fun.”
“Not that much fun so far, with all that fog and someone falling off a cliff,” Phoebe mumbled.
The officer glanced at Phoebe and then back at his pad. “Did anyone know the deceased, Dr. Julian Morton?”
“We never met him. But we all saw him last night at the mansion,” Maggie explained. “We were in a knitting club meeting in the library, and he was in the adjacent room, playing poker.”
“And got in a big row with another player,” Suzanne cut in. “The other player’s last name is Pullman. I don’t remember his first name, but I’m pretty sure he lives here. Maybe you’ve already heard this story?”
Officer Hobart looked interested. “You’re my first stop. What was the argument about? Did you overhear that, too?”
“Everybody did,” Lucy said. “Dr. Morton was gloating about taking another winning hand. It sounded like he’d been on a lucky streak. The other player, Pullman, accused him of cheating. Which Morton denied.”
“But it came out that Pullman had lost a ton of money and was pretty deep in debt to Morton. Over ten thousand dollars,” Suzanne said. “When Morton goaded him about that, calling him a loser and other names, Pullman lost his temper. He stood up, shouted something, and flipped the poker table over. He said he wasn’t going to pay Morton a nickel of the debt because he believed Morton had cheated to win the money.”
Officer Hobart busily took down the story. “What else did Pullman say? Do you remember?”
Dana had not said anything so far but now spoke up. “Morton accused him of slander and said he was going to sue. Then Pullman laughed and said something like, ‘You’re the one who’s going to pay’ and ‘Watch your back, old man.’ ”
“And ‘I’ll see you rot in hell,’ ” Suzanne added. “I remember that because I thought it was getting pretty nasty.”
Officer Hobart was taking down the story in a quick, efficient hand. “Anything else you’d like to add?” He looked around at the group.
“That’s it, I think.” Lucy glanced at her friends to see if anyone remembered an important detail she, Dana, or Suzanne had left out. “After all the shouting and table turning, Pullman stomped out of the room. We shut the door between our meeting and the card players’ room, so we didn’t hear anything more.”
The officer made a few more notes and turned the page of his pad. “I just need to ask you all what you were doing this morning, between seven-thirty and eight-thirty.”
Dana answered first. “Lucy and I went to a yoga class at the fitness center. It was supposed to start a
t eight but there was a delay. When it finally started, all the sirens were too disrupting, so it was cancelled. We came out and followed the crowd to see what was going on.”
“I stayed here in the cottage, knitting,” Maggie said. “Suzanne was with me. She was sleeping in a bit this morning.”
“Hey, I work full-time and have three kids. A few extra hours of sleep is an annual event. You have no idea.”
“Don’t worry, Suzanne. I don’t think Officer Hobart will give you a ticket for sleeping late,” Lucy quietly teased.
The police officer finally cracked a smile. “You’re in luck. We just took that one off the books.” He turned to Phoebe. “And where were you, Ms. Meyers?”
“I went down to the beach pretty early, around five thirty. I wanted to take photos and do some sketches of the piping plover.”
The police officer looked surprised and curious. “How did that go? Find any in the fog?”
“Quite a few, all cuddled in their nests. I think the fog added a lot to the photos. I’m going to print some in black and white.”
Lucy had to smile at her reply. It didn’t take much to get Phoebe musing over creative projects, even when being questioned by a police officer.
“How long were you on the beach?” the police officer asked in a more serious tone.
“About two hours, I guess. Until I heard the sirens. I did hear sort of a shout before that, but I didn’t pay it any mind. I thought maybe one of the fishermen had gotten a big catch. The surf was very rough and loud. It was hard to hear anything clearly. But when I heard the sirens, I walked back up the shoreline and saw some fishermen and a few other people who’d been out on the beach, all huddled together, talking. They told me what happened. And I saw Dr. Morton’s body, where it had landed on the rocks . . . from a distance.”