by Louise Clark
For a time there was harmony amongst adults and children alike. Construction went well, the two girls building towers and ramparts at a fine clip; Tamara stretched out on her towel and dozed, with Quinn beside her awake and watchful; Sledge sprawled on a beach chair in the sun, gazing at nothing in particular. Christy assumed he was asleep until he yawned, stretched, then fished a notebook and a pencil from his beach bag and started to write. At first, she thought he was doodling, because half of what he put down he scratched out, then she realized there was purpose to what he was doing.
She eyed him curiously. Was he writing a song, or putting thoughts into some sort of coherent form so they wouldn’t be lost? She didn’t feel right about questioning him on his creative process, but she’d learned from Roy that every artist worked in his own unique style and pace. When Sledge started to hum, she decided he was indeed deep in songwriting mode. Honored he was comfortable enough with her, and all the others, to be able to create, she stood up, stretched, then headed over to the kids. If he looked up and saw her gone, he’d never know she’d moved off to ensure he had the quiet he needed to work.
Her timing was excellent. Dylan, bored without his father’s input, decided to get involved in Haley and Noelle’s castle building. Apparently, he wanted to demolish a tower and one of the castle’s ramparts so they could extend the construction further on that side. Haley tended to let her brother do what he wanted. Noelle, however, had no such compunction. Plus, it was her side of the castle Dylan wanted to restructure. She put her hands on her hips and said, forcefully, “No.”
Dylan kicked the rampart down. “Have to now.”
Absolutely furious, Noelle narrowed her eyes and gave him the Jamieson stare. She said in a frosty tone that would have made Ellen proud if she hadn’t been on a winery tour with Trevor, “You are not needed. Go away.”
Dylan’s face flushed red. Heather Farnsworth came over and said, “What’s the problem, Dylan, honey?”
Dylan pointed to Noelle. “She’s rude.”
“Pot calling the kettle black,” Christy said.
Heather frowned. “Noelle, you need to learn to play nicely.”
Christy sucked in her breath. She was about to tell Heather her son had started it, when Noelle, in full Jamieson mode, said, “Mrs. Farnsworth, Haley and I are building a castle.” She pointed to the castle and Haley, who was wide-eyed and silent. Her judgmental index finger moved to indicate the crumbled retaining wall. “Dylan kicked it down. He shouldn’t have done that.”
Feeling very proud her daughter was refusing to bend to adult intimidation and doing it without reverting to sulks and pouts, Christy waited to see how Heather would respond before she got involved.
Heather looked from Noelle to Dylan to Haley. “Is that true, Haley?”
Dylan glared at Haley and Haley stared down at the sand. “Well…”
Heather made a huffing sound. “If you children can’t play together properly, you should play apart. Haley and Dylan, come down to the water with me.”
“Great, Mom!” Dylan said. He took off at a run.
Haley abandoned her bucket and spade, taking her mother’s hand without a backward look.
Noelle put her hands on her hips. “Dylan is so dumb.” Her tone was scathing. She went back to her castle building, methodically tidying and rebuilding the damaged ramparts.
Patterson wandered over to pick up Haley’s abandoned bucket and shovel. “Apologies for my extended family. Heather has always been high-strung, but since the cops interviewed Adam she’s snapping at everything and everyone.”
Christy thought about the many parenting points she could raise regarding Heather’s handling of the situation, but decided not to. Patterson wasn’t the one who’d done it, Heather was and she wasn’t here. So she shrugged. “I understand. It’s a tough situation.”
Patterson shot her a glimmer of a smile. They both knew Christy had faced worse and kept her cool. “In her defense, things look bleak for Adam. He admits he was in the thick of the argument over the fish farm with Higginson, Norman Laing, and the others. He also left the information building after all the others that afternoon, so he was the last person known to have seen Higginson alive.”
A shadow fell on the sand as someone came up behind Christy. She looked over her shoulder to check out who it was and saw that Quinn had joined them, apparently in time to hear Patterson’s last comment. He gave Christy a warm smile, but he replied to Patterson. “Did the murder actually take place in the afternoon?”
Nodding acknowledgement of his arrival, Patterson said, “The working theory is late afternoon or early evening. The post mortem provided a window of several hours. That means unless someone came back later, Adam could have been the killer. That’s the theory Inspector Woodgate is working on. He’s told Adam to remain in the area.” She shrugged and added grimly, “As if we were going anywhere.”
“What if it wasn’t one of the people arguing that afternoon?” Christy asked.
Patterson frowned thoughtfully. “A random stranger, you mean?”
Christy shook her head. “No, not random. There were at least fifty people at the information session. Surely one of them must have wanted to stop the fish farm installation. He or she might have come to the meeting with mind made up and determined to keep the site from getting the okay, no matter what.”
“It takes a lot of motivation to murder someone,” Patterson said. She sounded skeptical, perhaps even a little dismissive.
Christy flushed.
Quinn said, “What if the killer went to the site after everyone, including Adam, was gone, with the intention of demolishing the fish tank? Higginson caught that person in the act. There was an altercation, and Higginson was killed.”
There was an edge to his voice that had Christy looking at him sharply. It sounded as if he was defending her. Was he defending her? Could it be?
Patterson rubbed her scar, as she did when she was thinking deeply. Then she shook her head. “Higginson died in his office. There was a glass on his desk, but he was strangled from behind.”
“Strangled? With what?” Christy asked.
“His tie.” Patterson grimaced. “Woodgate told me he didn’t appear to have put up much resistance.”
“Which you’d expect him to do if his killer was someone he didn’t know intent on destroying his precious fish tank,” Christy said. She remembered the fury he’d shown when Stormy went fishing and reluctantly put away the idea of the murderer being an eco warrior committed to saving the environment and allowing his passions to overcome his reason. Higginson would have fought that person and his manner of death would have been very different.
“The killer still could have been bent on sabotage even if he or she was known to Higginson,” Quinn said.
As Patterson stared at Quinn, she rubbed her scar again. “Possibly.” She didn’t sound convinced.
Christy said, “Let’s go back to the argument. How deeply was Higginson involved?”
Patterson’s eyes cut her way. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “There were five of them who stayed behind. Norman Laing and Adam were academic opponents with longstanding conflicting viewpoints. According to Chad Davis, they were doing the intellectual debate thing, arguing and scoring points off each other. Then Higginson got involved and turned it personal. Chad said that was when he left and Laing followed. The two local politicians remained, for at least a while, while Adam and Higginson argued. Were they involved? Did they help Higginson by ganging up on Adam? Or were they like Chad Davis, uncomfortable and listening, not talking.”
She paused to draw a breath and Quinn murmured, “Politics is a game.”
Christy nodded. “Yeah. No politician ever wins every argument they make. The three of them—Chad Davis, the provincial MP, Dean Kelloway, the mayor, and Rhonda Hicks, the councilor—they must all have learned how to lose gracefully. Why would any one of them kill Higginson? There’s got to be more to it.”
A
breeze off the water blew a tendril of Patterson’s long hair that had escaped from the thick braid down her back. She brushed it away from her face in an absentminded way. “Norman Laing apparently told Woodgate that Adam was out-of-control angry that day. That he scared off Chad Davis, who told them that he had to leave—for no reason that Laing could see, except to get out of Adam’s firing line. Laing offered to go to dinner with him to ‘smooth his ruffled feathers.’ Laing’s description, not mine.”
“Leaving Adam, Dean Kelloway, Rhonda Hicks, and Shane Higginson at the info center, still fighting,” Christy said.
Patterson nodded.
“Over what?” Christy asked.
Patterson shot her a sharp look. “Meaning?”
“Two scientists are arguing over the benefits and drawbacks of open net fish farms. Once one of them is gone, so is the intellectual debate. What was there left to fight over after Norman Laing left?”
“What indeed?” Patterson said. She sounded pleased.
“I hate to burst a bubble,” Quinn said, “but Higginson was as passionate about open net farms as Laing. He wanted to convince the two local politicians that his installation would be good for their district. He’d argue as hard as Laing.” Quinn hesitated, then added, “And I suspect he wouldn’t bother with academic niceties.”
“Blast,” Patterson said. She stared at Noelle’s castle, which had now grown to immense proportions. “Woodgate is a cautious cop. He’s been in this area for years and he knows the people and the region. He’s not going to railroad anyone, but he’s not a murder cop, and he knows I am. He’s given me some professional courtesy, telling me about what was found with the body, the suspected cause and time of death, and the movements of the other suspects. He doesn’t have the proof to arrest Adam yet, but he thinks Adam did it.”
“You don’t,” Christy said when she fell silent.
“Adam says he didn’t and I believe him.” She looked at Christy. Her mouth twitched up into a small, wry smile. “I hear that all the time from family members. Couldn’t be. I know him too well. He’s not like that.” The smile died and she shrugged. “Now I’m saying it and I believe it as passionately as any other family member. Adam didn’t kill Shane Higginson.” She shook her head. “I can’t prove that though. And if I don’t, I’m afraid he’ll be arrested for it.”
“Adam may have been the last one to leave on that afternoon, but one of the others could have come back later and killed Higginson,” Quinn said.
Patterson shook her head. “Not Davis or Laing. They alibi each other.”
“Then Dean Kelloway or Rhonda Hicks.”
Patterson looked skeptical. “Why would either of them leave, then come back? Why would any of them kill Shane Higginson?” Frustration had her pursing her lips. “Woodgate has warned me off, told me not to interfere in his investigation, so I can’t interview any of the suspects. It’s driving me crazy.”
Yesterday, after her decision at Cathedral Grove to limit her involvement, Christy had put Sledge off when he suggested they spend today hunting down the other suspects. Now, hearing the dark edge of defeat in Patterson’s voice, she had an abrupt change of mind. “Why don’t we see what we can find out? Woodgate hasn’t told us not to talk to Kelloway and Hicks.”
The wind was playing with Patterson’s hair again and she pushed a dark lock away while she pondered Christy’s suggestion. “It’s an idea.”
Quinn shrugged. “Worth trying.”
After another moment of thought, Patterson flashed a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Thanks.”
“Mom. Let’s go down to the water.” Noelle deposited her bucket and shovel onto sand near her mother’s towel. Haley and Dylan were back at the tidal pool and Noelle had decided to suspend construction for the day.
Christy stretched lazily. After Patterson left, she’d retreated to her beach chair where she watched Noelle and read a book in a fitful way. Taking a dip in the ocean sounded like a splendid idea. “Works for me, kiddo,” she said, tucking the book into her beach bag.
She was just about on her feet when Noelle said, “Race you!” and took off, her feet pounding on the wet sand, her hair flying out behind her. Sledge, who had abandoned his song writing for snoozing, opened one eye and snorted. Quinn and Tamara had gone down to the water long since.
Laughing, Christy took off after her daughter. Noelle made it to the water first, splashing through the gentle swells, then twisting around to flop down on her back. Christy slogged along behind, splashing through water up to her knees, waiting until it was mid thigh before immersing herself.
Noelle floated on her back for a minute, then stood up so she could dive into the clear water. The tide was inching its way in, and the water was shallow for an adult, so Christy had to paddle to keep herself in one place.
Though her focus was on Noelle, she noticed Tamara was much further out than she and Noelle were. Tamara was diving in and out of the water, looking slender and sleek. She wore a plain one-piece bathing suit, which nonetheless flattered her figure, and her short blonde hair was plastered to her head in a way Christy thought emphasized her large eyes and sculpted features, even at a distance.
Quinn was with her. He was floating on his back, bobbing in the gentle swells at the moment, but she knew they’d been together in the water for the past half hour, so she assumed he’d been diving and playing with Tamara while she swam.
She shouldn’t be envious of the time he was spending with Tamara. She really shouldn’t be jealous of the relationship she could see building between them. She’d had her opportunity with Quinn. She wasn’t going to be the kind of woman who refused to let her former lover find happiness with another by undermining his new relationship. She would not do it. But oh, how hard it was not to give in and do something designed to make Quinn notice her and abandon Tamara.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Noelle stand up. She was staring straight ahead, past Christy’s shoulder. What was going on?
She found out seconds later when the water surged around her, a male arm wrapped around her waist and a low, warm voice, said in her ear, “Take a deep breath and hold it.”
She barely had time to act upon the warning when she found herself catapulted into the water. She came up spluttering, her hair every which way, but mostly in her eyes. She scraped it away and said, “Sledge!”
He grinned at her. He’d gone in at the same time she had, using his weight to drag her under along with him, so he was as disheveled as she was. His baseball cap—one of many, all Raptor or Lions themed—was soaking, and beneath his long hair was dripping. He winked at Noelle and held out his hand for a high five. “Way to keep silent, Noelle. Good going.”
“We got you, Mom!” Noelle announced with considerable pleasure. Her smile was huge and her eyes sparkled.
Christy laughed. “Yeah, you did.”
She watched as Sledge picked up Noelle and tossed her into deeper water. Noelle plugged her nose and held her breath as she went under then came up shrieking, “Again.”
Sledge complied and for the next few minutes the water churned and Noelle shrieked and giggled. Christy’s heart swelled. She was lucky that both Sledge and Quinn were quite willing to spend time with Noelle. Though Quinn was no longer a potential mate and she doubted Sledge was ready yet to settle down, both were giving Noelle a physical male role model, while her real dad, Frank, was still here to provide emotional context.
Eventually, Noelle decided she wanted to show Sledge and her mom how well she could swim. Christy sank into the shallow water, waving her arms through the surf to keep herself in one place. Sledge simply sat down beside her and stretched his longer legs out before him. They both called out approving comments until Noelle got bored with paddling and decided to retreat closer to the water’s edge where she could practice her new skill of floating on her back.
“Good kid,” Sledge said.
Christy smiled and agreed from deep in her heart. “Yeah, she is.”
“
She hears the cat, doesn’t she?”
Christy cast him a quick, sharp glance. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said, surprising her.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “She needs a dad.”
“She does.” Christy sighed. “I’m not sure if having a dad who is resident in the body of the family cat is the best situation.”
Sledge laughed. “What family is ever perfect?”
That made Christy laugh, too. “I suppose so.”
“Must be hard, being married to a cat.”
“I’m not…” Christy caught the teasing gleam in Sledge’s eyes and stopped abruptly. She said with less heat, “Frank’s dead. I’m not married to him anymore.”
Sledge raised his eyebrows, the teasing expression still lurking in his eyes.
“All right, in some ways it is like being married, but—” She shook her head. “More often it’s like being an adult dealing with two kids. Sometimes they gang up on me and I have to get Ellen involved.” She paused. “I wouldn’t change it though. Noelle loves him and as long as Stormy lets him stay, I’m glad he’s here.”
“Takes a special person to accept a situation like yours,” Sledge said lazily. He was watching Noelle, but as he spoke he turned to Christy and smiled.
Not his rock star, I’m-a-sexy-guy, smile, but one that held compassion and understanding. She swallowed hard and wondered, not for the first time, what went on in Sledge’s head. If she was reading the signs correctly—and heaven knew she didn’t have a tremendous amount of experience doing that—he was coming on to her. Yet, he was a huge star in a tough world. The rock lifestyle was one of hard work, temptation, and overindulgence. She’d found no evidence of that in the way Sledge acted since she’d met him, but if she believed the media, he lived the life to the fullest.
He reached out and brushed her hair away from her eyes, an intimate gesture that surprised her. She was about to ask him what he was up to, when the water around them shifted, indicating wading bathers.
Christy looked up into Quinn’s eyes. She fought the urge to blush as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.