“Sure. I grew up on boats.”
So did many islanders.
“I’ll be in touch.” Tessa left the small room and stopped at the bar, where Logan sat on a stool, talking to Victor. “Victor, can you confirm that Heather was in the bar between noon and eight p.m. on Monday?”
Victor picked up a rag and wiped down the bar. “Yes.”
Tessa pressed her palms on the bar. “Did she leave the bar at any time during her shift?”
Victor tossed the rag onto the counter. “She took her fifteen-minute break after lunch, around two o’clock.”
Tessa leaned closer. “What time did you leave for the night?”
Victor paled. Her question had surprised him.
“Around nine,” he stammered. “You can’t think . . .”
“We’re just covering all the bases,” Tessa said. “Can I have copies of the bar receipts and order tickets during Heather’s shift?”
Victor nodded. “Sure. Be right back.” He came out from behind the bar and disappeared into a back room. A few minutes later, he returned and handed Tessa a computer printout.
“Thank you.” Tessa pushed away from the bar.
Logan slid off a barstool, shook Victor’s hand, and joined Tessa. They left the Taproom and walked down the front steps of the hotel. Tessa waited until they were in the SUV before summing up her interview with Heather.
“Victor had no love for Jason either,” Logan said. “He said Jason only came into the bar when Heather was working and that he never left a tip. They only have one waitress in the afternoons, so she had no choice but to serve him.”
“Was Jason not over his first wife, or did he just enjoy tormenting her?”
“Both Sarah and Heather were angry with Jason, and Sarah has financial motivation as well. Given reports of Jason’s personality, it wouldn’t surprise me if we discovered additional suspects.”
Tessa’s phone vibrated. She read the screen. “It’s Henry.” She answered the call. “You’re on speaker, and Logan is with me.”
“I just spoke to the medical examiner,” Henry began. “He confirmed that Jason McCoy did not drown. In a typical wet drowning, the lungs are hyperexpanded, and there’s froth in the trachea and bronchial tubes. Water might be present in the stomach as well. He found none of that in this body. We were also correct about lividity. The body lay on its belly on a hard surface for at least six hours after death. The preliminary cause of death is blunt-force trauma to the head.”
“What about time of death?” Tessa asked. “Could the ME narrow the window?”
“Maybe. Jason McCoy ate a meal of steak and potatoes shortly before he died. The ME estimates he died within two hours of consuming the meal.”
“He finished lunch at one thirty, so he died by three thirty.” Excitement filled Tessa. “Thank you, Henry!”
“You’re very welcome.” Henry disconnected the call.
Tessa glanced at Logan. “Heather took a break around two o’clock.”
“She couldn’t have driven to Jason’s house and back in fifteen minutes.”
“Maybe she was gone longer. Her brother is her alibi. What if he’s covering for her?” Tessa suggested. “Or what if he helped her? Jason’s body lay on the kitchen floor for at least six hours. Maybe she was so angry at him continuing to rub their divorce in her face that she snapped. She drove out to his house on her break and confronted him. They argued, and she bashed him over the head. Then she returned to the bar to finish her shift.”
“She and her brother could have returned to the house after dark, cleaned up the scene, and dumped him at sea.”
“Totally plausible, considering the lividity timeline.” Tessa skimmed the printout of the Taproom receipts. “There weren’t any food orders between two o’clock and three thirty. Three beverage orders were served, but the receipt doesn’t list the server. Plus all the bills were paid in cash. No way to trace the customer.”
“So there’s no way to verify that Heather actually returned to work after her two o’clock break.”
“Right.” Thinking, Tessa tapped a finger on the printout. “Maybe she didn’t intend to kill him. She could have struck him in the heat of the moment.”
“It would make sense to wait until dark to dispose of the body,” Logan agreed. “Jason didn’t have any close neighbors, but they wouldn’t want other boaters to be able to see what they were doing. Jason’s current wife could have done the same thing.”
“Yes,” Tessa said. “Sarah’s alibi would be stronger if it was verified by someone other than her mother.”
“Where are we going next?”
“The inn at Smuggler’s Point that Jason remodeled is on this side of the island. Let’s talk to Roger Duvall next. Kurt emailed me about him. Would you read it?” Tessa drove out of the parking lot. She rotated the dashboard computer to face Logan.
He read the email. “Here are the highlights. Roger Duvall is a retired lawyer from Seattle. He moved here eighteen months ago when he bought the inn. He’s fifty-seven years old, drives a Porsche Cayenne, and has no criminal record. A twenty-foot outboard is registered to him. So we know he can pilot a boat.”
The drive from Jason’s house to Bishop Bay took fifteen minutes. Tessa spotted a large sign on the road that read Smuggler’s Inn. She turned onto a long private driveway lined with apple trees and parked at the end.
“They kept the original farmhouse.” Logan stepped out of the vehicle.
Tessa scanned the property. On the right, the three-story farmhouse sat on a hill with a stunning view of the bay. She pointed to a long building to her left and counted twelve doors. “Looks like they converted the old barn into guest rooms.”
“And those outbuildings as well.” Logan pointed to six tiny cabins tiered on the steep hillside.
In a grassy area between the guest quarters and main house, a pool had been added. Chaises, tables, and chairs were lined up in rows on a pool deck made of brick pavers. There were several small outbuildings scattered around the property. Tessa counted three sheds and an old pump house. A long garage stretched out behind the house, and a dilapidated boathouse squatted by the water.
The whine of a power tool cut through the quiet.
Tessa led the way to the front door of the farmhouse and knocked. A young woman answered. “Can I help you?”
Tessa introduced herself and Logan. “We’re looking for Roger Duvall.”
“I’m Emma Dean.” Straightening her long blonde ponytail, she stepped out onto the front porch. “Roger is working in one of the cabins today.” She shaded her eyes with a hand. “I’m not sure which one, but you can follow the noise.”
“What is your relationship with Mr. Duvall?” Tessa asked.
Emma’s eyes brightened. “I’m going to be in charge of housekeeping for the inn when it opens.”
“How’s the job so far?” Tessa asked.
Emma shrugged. “So far, so good. Right now, all I’m doing is ordering supplies and interviewing potential staff.” She checked her watch. The squeal of brakes announced the arrival of a school bus at the end of the driveway.
Emma’s whole face lit up as she watched a child jump off the bus. “That’s my daughter, Abby.”
Tessa smiled. “Where did you work before?”
“I managed a bed-and-breakfast on the mainland,” Emma said.
“Are you from the island?” Tessa asked. “Not many people move to Widow’s Island.”
Emma lifted a thin shoulder. “The bed-and-breakfast closed, and I was out of work for six months. Moving is no big deal when the alternative is being evicted from your apartment. Besides, room and board are included for me and Abby. I feel pretty lucky to have this job.”
Tessa asked, “Did you know Jason McCoy?”
“Yes.” Emma’s expression darkened. “But he was working in the cabins, and I’ve been busy in the house. We didn’t interact very much.” Her tone suggested she was grateful for that.
“Did you like him?�
�� Tessa prodded.
The corners of Emma’s mouth tipped downward. “No. He wasn’t a nice man.”
“In what way?”
Her frown deepened. “I shouldn’t talk about him. He’s dead.” Her eyes widened. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because he was murdered.”
Tessa admitted nothing. “This isn’t gossip. It’s an investigation. I need to know. Why didn’t you like Jason?” Tessa didn’t want to lead her witness, but she wondered if Jason had hit on the pretty young girl.
Emma inhaled and let out the breath slowly, as if thinking about her answer. “Jason was a bully.”
“To you?” Tessa asked.
“To everyone,” Emma said vaguely.
Tessa glanced at Logan. He was quieter than usual. His eyes weren’t on Emma. He was watching the child running toward them. Two red ribbons bounced at the ends of her pigtails.
Tessa turned back to Emma. “Do you like working for Mr. Duvall?”
Emma nodded. “I’ve never had a boss that let me bring my daughter to work before, so yes.”
“He’s never inappropriate?” Tessa asked.
Emma laughed. “No. Roger’s not like that.”
Tessa circled around to the information she really wanted. “Did you work on Monday afternoon?”
“Yes,” Emma said.
“Was Roger here?” Tessa asked.
Emma looked at the sky. “He was in and out all day. I don’t remember any specific times.”
“Did you see him before lunch? After lunch?” Tessa prompted.
The smile vanished from Emma’s face, and lines bracketed her mouth. “I don’t know.”
But Tessa thought she did. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Tessa was looking for suspects in Jason’s murder—and that Roger would be on the list. Why wouldn’t Emma cooperate?
Was Emma protecting her job—and Roger?
6
Logan watched Emma’s face. She was holding out on them. But why?
“You’re sure?” Tessa pressed.
“I know I saw him several times during the day.” Emma blinked away from Tessa’s gaze.
Tessa’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Emma spread out her arms as Abby ran into her embrace.
Abby wriggled out of her mother’s arms and dropped her backpack. She squinted up at Tessa and Logan. “Who are you?”
“They were just leaving,” her mother said. “Go inside. Cookies are in the kitchen.”
“I’ll take one to Roger.” Humming, the little girl skipped toward the door, leaving her backpack on the ground.
Logan’s heart swelled. All children should be this happy and carefree. He pictured another child on the other side of the world, one whose short life had been full of hunger and trauma. He brushed aside the persistent image. He had done his best, and it hadn’t been enough.
“I need to get back to work.” Emma picked up the backpack and caught up with her daughter in a few quick strides.
“One more question,” Logan called after her. “Was Roger here when your daughter came home from school on Monday?”
Emma said over her shoulder, “I don’t remember.”
Abby tugged at her mother’s sleeve. Her loud whisper carried on the wind. “He wasn’t. Remember, I was gonna take him a cookie like I do every day, but he wasn’t here.”
Emma said nothing but took her daughter inside.
“That was interesting.” Tessa spun on her heel and faced him.
“I felt like she was holding back.”
“So did I, but I can’t force her to talk to us, nor can I prove she knows more than she’s saying.” Tessa started toward the cabins. She pulled out her phone and sent a text. “I’m going to ask Kurt to do a background check on her.”
As they passed the pool, Tessa hunched her shoulders against the wind blowing off the water. The door to the first cabin stood open. The front room was a combination kitchen and living area. There was no furniture, and drop cloths covered the floor. A slim man was cutting molding on a compound miter saw. He wore overalls, a purple tie-dyed sweatshirt, and purple Converse high-tops. His graying hair was pulled back in a man bun, and diamond studs glittered in both earlobes.
Tessa knocked on the doorframe and called out, “Roger Duvall?”
The man jumped. The saw handle slipped. Red liquid spurted across the room, and he jerked his hand away. “Shit!”
Tessa rushed in. “I’m sorry we startled you.”
“Not your fault.” Roger’s face whitened as he grabbed his wrist. Blood dripped onto the floor. “I was concentrating.” Drops of blood went flying as he waved toward the saw. “I swear there isn’t a single square corner in this entire cabin.”
“Maybe you should sit down.” Tessa steered him toward a box, and he eased onto it.
Logan turned off the saw. The abrupt fade of its whine amplified the quiet.
Tessa assessed the wound, a deep gash across the fleshy pad of the thumb. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Up at the house.” Roger craned his neck, trying to see the cut. “Did I take my thumb off?”
“No.” Logan examined the wound. Compared to wounds he’d seen in the Middle East, this one barely needed a Band-Aid. He lifted Roger’s hand above his heart to slow the bleeding. “But you might need stitches.”
“I’ll get the kit from my vehicle.” Tessa pivoted and strode from the cabin. A minute later, she returned, opened the kit, and tugged on gloves. “Let’s control the bleeding, then see what’s what.”
As she applied gauze pads and pressure, Roger’s face went whiter. To distract him, Logan introduced himself and Tessa.
Roger eyed their uniforms. “I assume you’re here about Jason.”
“Yes.” Tessa nodded. “When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“Monday morning. He was supposed to come and work on this cabin.” With his uninjured hand, Roger pointed to a pile of uncut molding. “He called to say he wasn’t coming. We argued. He was already behind schedule. I need to get this work finished. Two of these cabins are booked over Christmas. They were supposed to be done in October.”
“Did Jason have a crew, or did he do all the work himself?” Logan asked.
“He used a crew for the heavy work, but he did the carpentry himself.” Roger grimaced. “But he got into an argument with his crew leader last month, and the men walked out, leaving Jason to do everything. Luckily, the structural changes were complete, but it was taking him forever to complete the finish work by himself.”
“He could be difficult to work with?” Logan asked.
Roger met his gaze. “He could be an ass.”
Tessa jumped in. “But you put up with him.”
“Do you know how hard it is to get workers on this island?” Roger’s voice rose. “If I wanted to bring in a contractor from the mainland, it would cost me double. Plus I would have had to wait for months. Jason was the only available contractor in town at the time I needed one.”
“Other people have said Jason was a bully,” Tessa said. “Was he nasty to you?”
“Occasionally,” Roger admitted. “He had a mean streak.” He paused for breath. “I didn’t like the man, but I needed him. This place is my dream. Jason wasn’t holding up his end of our contract. I told him if he wasn’t going to finish in a timely manner, I wasn’t going to pay the invoice due at the end of the month. He threatened to sue me.” Roger swept a hand over his head. “We’ve been having this same argument for months. I was tired of it.”
“How much work is left?” Logan asked.
Roger sighed. “Mostly trim work and painting in the cabins. I’ll have to find someone else to rebuild the boathouse.”
Logan scanned the interior. The fixtures and floors looked new. “Will you have the cabins done in time?”
“I think so.” Roger frowned at his injury. “But this isn’t going to help.”
“Where were you Monday afternoon?” Tessa added more gauze to the stack an
d squeezed.
Roger winced. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Mostly here. Though I went back and forth to the hardware store a few times.”
“Do you have receipts?” Tessa asked.
“Yes.” With his free hand, Roger dug his wallet out of the pocket of his overalls. He dropped the billfold in his lap to open it one handed. He thumbed through a stack of store receipts and handed Tessa three of them. “I’ll need those back for taxes.”
“Of course.” Tessa unwrapped a roll of gauze and wound it securely around the base of Roger’s thumb and hand. She dug through the first aid kit. “Do you have scissors?”
Roger reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife with a dozen little tools folded into its handle. “Here.”
Tessa unfolded the tiny scissors tool, cut the gauze down the middle, and tied it off. Then she tugged off the gloves, gathered the wrappers, and tossed everything in a trash can by the door. “It’s still bleeding, but that should hold you until you get to Dr. Powers for some stitches.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” Tessa read the receipts, then dropped them into an evidence-collection envelope she took from her pocket. “When was the last time you were at Jason’s office?”
“Never,” Roger said. “Jason always came here.”
Logan scanned the man’s pale face. “Do you need a ride to the doctor?”
Roger took his phone from his pocket and sent a text. His phone buzzed with a reply almost immediately. “Emma will take me.”
He rose from his seat. His knees wobbled, and Logan steadied him with a hand on his elbow. They walked toward the door. Logan stayed close in case Roger got woozy again.
Emma pulled up in a Subaru, and Roger slid into the passenger seat. Abby waved to Logan and Tessa from the back seat as they drove away.
“What do you think?” Tessa asked as they headed for her vehicle.
“I’m not sure.” Logan watched the Subaru turn onto the main road. “It was hard to read him after he almost sliced off his thumb.”
They stepped into Tessa’s vehicle.
“Agreed.” Tessa fastened her seat belt. She handed Logan the evidence envelope. “The times on these receipts don’t give Roger much of an alibi.”
Whisper of Bones Page 5