by Tessa Wegert
I didn’t understand, and then, all at once, I did. He was talking about Abella. What she’d witnessed in the shed.
Tim’s calls were getting closer, more urgent. “So you wanted to talk to Abby. Explain why you did it.”
Ned nodded. “I thought it was Jasper by the window, but it wasn’t. Abby told me last night. I needed to make her understand it was just one time. That it was the only way to get away from Flynn.”
“One time,” I repeated, confused. “You mean you and Bebe—”
“It was supposed to be Flynn who saw. He was in the library. If he saw me with Bebe . . . that would end it. He’d kick my ass, probably try to kill me, but he’d let me go. I had to do it. Jas was going to propose this weekend—today, Jade said. I was out of time.” He paused to swallow and catch his breath. “I had to make Abby understand everything I did was so I could be free of Flynn. Be with her. She wasn’t sure about Jas, did you know that? I don’t think she would have said yes.” The momentary hope in Ned’s voice gave way to despair as he remembered how Abella felt didn’t matter, not anymore. “She was talking about going to Europe, traveling for a while instead of taking a new job. I’ve got money and an uncle in London. I told her we could stay with him. She was into it. She was.”
I almost felt sorry for Ned, listening to him describe this chimerical future with his best friend’s girl. I wondered if it might have worked out between them, had she lived long enough to make her choice. It would take a tremendous amount of love to justify marrying into a family like this.
“Did you go upstairs last night? Tell me, Ned.”
“I . . . thought I could wake her up.”
A chill shot through me. I waited.
“I just wanted to get her away from him so we could talk. I didn’t kill him, I swear on my life,” Ned said. And then he told me the one and only thing that could make me believe it.
In that dark little room I felt something way down at the base of my spine, where hunches that grow into theories are born. “What time was this?”
“Around three.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No. I went back downstairs. Walked away. I thought,” he said thickly, “if Jas was gone, there’d be nothing to stop us.”
“Open the door!” Tim bellowed on the other side of the wall. “Open this fucking door right now!”
“You’re not a murderer,” I told Ned. “Give me the gun.”
The sound he made was small, but the misery it carried was something I’m not sure I’ll ever forget. With a quiet clack Ned set the gun down on the nightstand, and I unlocked the bedroom door.
Tim’s flashlight beam hit me square in the eyes. In seconds he had Ned against the wall.
“Don’t,” I said when Tim reached for his cuffs. He tilted his head in confusion, but obliged me. Left the handcuffs where they were, and grabbed Ned’s arm instead.
“The power outage. Ned made a run for it. You okay?” Tim’s voice was surprisingly shaky. “What did this bastard do to you?”
“I’m fine,” I said. Tim’s timing was perfect. “Ned just told me who killed Jasper and Abella.”
THIRTY
The hallway was dim, the only light a faint orange glow emanating from the dying fire in the parlor. Tim marched Ned in front of him while I brought up the rear. The soles of my boots came down on broken glass that crackled under my weight, and I remembered the sounds I’d heard earlier. There were blade-sharp hunks of crystal all over the floor and wet spots on the hallway wall. Someone had flung their wineglass straight out the parlor door.
“What’d I miss?” I whispered as I holstered my firearm once more.
“Sibling infighting,” Tim replied, unimpressed. “I swear, these brats are grounded.”
As my eyes adjusted to the hazy light of the parlor I saw what remained of our group of suspects. Bebe, by the window, was now conspicuously sans wineglass. Miles and Jade sat side by side on a couch, as far away from everyone as they could get. After hours on his feet, Norton had finally given up and taken a seat, but not before lighting the candles on the mantel. The flames flickered wraithlike on the walls. And then there was Flynn, still shirtless and sweating next to the hearth.
When he saw the grip Tim had on Ned, his eyebrows shot up. “I was starting to worry about you,” Flynn said. “Did you put the moves on Sherlock and get shot down? Christ, you really will screw anything with a pulse.”
Tim gritted his teeth. “Mr. Yeboah just assaulted a police officer.”
“Would you look at that, Ned,” Flynn said. “You found a way to leave me after all.”
“That’s enough,” I said. “We need to talk to all of you.”
Tim leaned in close. “We do?”
The moment when I’m about to catch a criminal is a moment like no other. I can’t explain how it makes me feel. It’s the highest of highs, a thrill that’s astounding in its potency. The only person I know who might understand it is Tim. One day, I thought, maybe I’ll ask him.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” I said, resuming the position I’d taken when I first walked into the parlor all those hours before, “with the first person blamed for Jasper’s murder. It was Norton, I believe, who brought the trapper to our attention.” I faced the caretaker, and he instantly reddened under my gaze. “In fact, Norton was the only person to suggest it might have been a total stranger who took Jasper. He convinced Camilla the man was after her money. Told her a ransom note was on the way. But no note came, and thanks to Wellington—who was able to confirm Billy Bloom’s alibi—we eliminated the trapper from our suspect list very quickly.
“But you clung to your theory he was to blame, didn’t you, Mr. Norton? You insisted he was guilty after we found Abella’s body, and brought him up again when Wellington told everyone the boats were gone. You had to know we’d see the trapper’s involvement as a long shot. Surely you noticed nobody else was pointing at Bloom as a suspect.” I waited. Though his mouth hung open, Norton said nothing. I could see his chest rising and falling fast under his flannel shirt.
“Your story about Camilla not wanting mink under the boathouse made sense,” I said. “There’s no denying the smell. Honestly, if Jasper was MIA for longer we’d have torn that building apart, but there’s no way a stench of decay could be traced to a person who’s only been missing one day. Billy Bloom found a pile of fish guts down there. That much is true, too. According to Bloom, they were all perch.” I didn’t mention it was Tim’s comment about never wanting to eat fried perch again that had burrowed into my ear and stayed there. I did, however, make a mental note to buy Tim a beer. “Now, I don’t know much about this river, but I do know there are many more species of fish, and the odds of a mink being that particular are low. I had the sheriff make a call. What she discovered is that Norton bought several pounds of bones and butcher scraps from the local fishmonger the day before you all arrived here. I believe he planted them under the boathouse as an excuse to bring in Bloom.”
According to the shop owner Mac interviewed over the phone, Norton requested a mix and wasn’t too happy to hear perch was all he could get. It must have taken him hours to fake the mink infestation. The process left him so behind on his housework that he wasn’t ready for the guests and had to make a last-minute trip to the market.
“The thing about deductive reasoning is that it isn’t about finding big flashing arrows, but quiet attempts at diversion.” Like Carson’s shifting attitude about having Tim at the wedding, I thought. Like Norton’s insistence the trapper was bad news. “You brought Billy Bloom out here for a reason,” I said. “A distraction, maybe, or to protect someone. The question, of course, is why?”
Philip Norton didn’t move and didn’t breathe as he waited to hear what I’d say next.
“Now Flynn—” I pivoted to face him. “He was quick to blame Abella. She was a stranger to all of you except
Ned. That makes her a convenient scapegoat. Flynn tried to persuade us Jasper was using Abby for sex, while she was using him to get a job that would allow her to stay in the States. Flynn insisted Abby found Jasper out after they arrived here, and subsequently took her revenge. But there isn’t a shred of evidence to support that claim. Yes, she was in bed with Jasper last night. Yes, his blood was on her clothes. But Abella’s been actively searching for a job.” I glanced at Ned. “I believe she loved Jasper and wanted their relationship to work. She had no reason to kill him, and as we’ve already established, she didn’t kill herself.”
Everywhere I looked, faces stared back at me. Riveted. Afraid. “You’ve been trying to pull us in different directions, all of you,” I said, hitting my stride. “Accusing each other of lying and cheating. Incriminating your family and so-called friends. You’ve all got cause to be angry with Jasper. Take Jade. She thinks she’s in love with him and is furious he doesn’t feel the same way. She’s been spying on Jasper and Abella, and trying to get between them. That’s why she told everyone he planned to propose. Her hope was she could ruin the relationship. She wanted Jasper’s attention all for herself.”
Jade’s lips quivered as I spoke. Here was a girl who’d spread rumors about the Sinclairs for her own entertainment. Now she looked helpless and lost. What she’d done was finally sinking in. Emotionally exhausted, the girl rested a heavy head on her father’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
Miles stiffened. “If you’re suggesting my daughter—”
“I’m suggesting her teenage bullshit damaged this investigation. But I’m not concerned about Jade anymore. I’d rather talk about Bebe.
“Bebe,” I said, “did something even more astonishing. She tried to pin a murder on the victim himself by suggesting Jasper faked the scene and fled the island. I was sure you and Flynn were in it together,” I told Jasper’s sister. “You need the money. Without a bailout, you’re screwed. Maybe you’re screwed either way—but you weren’t about to let your little brother, the family golden boy, walk off with what remains of Camilla’s fortune. Yes, Bebe wanted to conceal the fact that she’d slept with Ned, but it’s Camilla she’s trying to deceive. What you did with Ned would likely destroy any remaining possibility Camilla might leave you some money—a delusion, in my opinion,” I said to the woman, “but I guess a girl can dream. I’m sure you were concerned about Flynn’s reaction. You knew he’d been violent with Jasper—there’s no way you didn’t see that growing up in a house with them—and taking Ned from him was the most egregious of acts. But you were fully dressed when Wellington and I found you upstairs in the hall. You’d even had time to put on your pearls. That means you couldn’t have strangled Abella, and you don’t have the strength to get Jasper out of the house anyway.
“Flynn and Jasper got in a fight last night, outside in the yard, and Flynn hit him,” I said. “All the more reason to think Flynn went upstairs to finish the job. Except he didn’t. Neither of you did.”
“How do you know that?” said Miles.
“We know,” I said, “because of Abella. Abella wasn’t a part of your family drama. She died because she found out something about last night. Something happened today that allowed her to identify the killer—and the killer knew she’d tell us what it was. Whoever murdered Jasper also killed Abby. Flynn was laid out down here, and Bebe had no reason to want Jasper’s girlfriend dead.”
Everyone in the room was looking increasingly alarmed, and that gave me a rush of confidence. After the day I’d had, the sensation felt so foreign it caught me unawares. I’d thought this through, examined Camilla’s guests like slabs of hooked meat, and searched every part of them for signs of rot. I had finally reached a conclusion. It felt good. No, it felt great.
“That takes us to Ned.” At the sound of his name, Ned recoiled. “Ned also makes an excellent suspect—don’t you think, Wellington?”
“Uh, yeah, excellent,” Tim said, trying to play along.
“And Ned had motive, too—just not the one you submitted to us, Miles. Jasper stood in the way of something Ned wanted. When he heard the rumor about the engagement from Jade, and realized it was Abby who saw him in the shed with Bebe, he knew he was about to lose his chance. Last night, Ned went upstairs to profess his love to Abella. But Jasper’s body was already gone.”
Bebe emitted a squeak of surprise, though I couldn’t tell if she was reacting to the news about Ned and Abby or her brother. To his credit, Tim didn’t say a word as I let the man who’d just threatened to shoot me off the hook. “Ned was able to identify the shape of the bloodstain,” I said for my colleague’s benefit, “in a crime scene he never set eyes on this morning. Ned’s not our guy.”
“You saw blood on my brother’s bed last night,” Flynn said to Ned, “and you walked away?” I didn’t like the look in his eyes, his supreme state of calm. “You were in love?” Flynn went on. “With that dead little bitch?”
All the talk of Abella had sent Ned into a stupor, and I wondered if Flynn’s words registered. Ned’s apathy enraged Flynn even more. Flynn’s motions were swift and decisive. One—grab the candlestick from the mantel. Two—lunge. Three—bring the object down on the side of Ned’s head. It smacked flesh and bone with a sickening thud and Ned’s tall, lean body crumpled to the floor.
Before anyone could blink, Tim had Flynn facedown on the rug next to Ned. From under his heavy brow Flynn stared in horror at what he’d done. His hair was wild and his mustache dripped with sweat or tears, I didn’t know which. Blood, so thick it was almost black, pulsed from Ned’s head.
It was the first time I found myself in close proximity to Jade’s screams, and I thought my eardrums might explode. Miles pulled her up and ushered her to the door, near where Norton sat. “Nobody move!” I shouted as Bebe, too, struggled to distance herself from Ned’s motionless body. “Stay where you are!”
“Oh my God,” Jade managed through her sobs. “Oh my God, is he dead?”
“Shoot him!” Miles roared, pointing at Flynn. “That man is an animal!”
I dropped to my knees next to Ned and saw that his eyes had rolled back in his head. I found his pulse with two fingers on his neck, thought, Thank you, Jesus, and took a closer look at his wound. “Bebe. Grab those napkins and put pressure on this. Hurry.” I didn’t like how much the cut was bleeding or the slack, gray look of Ned’s skin.
In her too-tight skirt, Bebe knelt awkwardly beside me and pressed the cloth against Ned’s wound. Tim fastened his cuffs around Flynn’s thick wrists and ground his knee into the man’s back. All the while I was acutely aware of the location of every person in that room. It didn’t surprise me when I glanced up and saw Miles’s expression change. I turned my head just in time to see Norton run for the door.
It was what I was counting on.
What I didn’t expect was that he’d take Jade with him.
THIRTY-ONE
The terrain on the west side of the island was rough and steep, but I heard their feet crushing wet twigs down below, so I knew I was on the right course. They were both in their house shoes, while my boots at least had a suggestion of grip. If they made it to the river without fracturing a bone, I thought, they’d be lucky.
I hadn’t considered Norton’s familiarity with the island. While I took the cliff at an angle, picking my way down with only my flashlight to keep me from wrenching an ankle, his movements were nimble and unfaltering, and the path he forged helped Jade to keep pace. They circumvented deadly outcroppings and evaded near-invisible hollows with ease. Twenty years of caring for Tern gave Philip Norton an edge. Camilla may have owned the island, but nobody understood it like he did. Every patch of moss and goose nest, where to find the best views of the river . . . Norton knew it all. This place was his home, and by the time I was halfway down the bluff, I couldn’t hear them at all.
People kill out of jealousy, fear, and hate. They kill because they want what
someone else has. More than anything, though, what drove Norton’s actions was love. His love for Tern Island.
I can’t say exactly when I realized he was covering up Jasper’s murder. There were many moments when I thought, I wonder. As keeper of the house Norton had access to everything and excuses for anything—including hiring Billy Bloom and using him as a stooge. If forensics found Norton’s DNA on Jasper’s sheets, he could remind them he made the beds. He could argue his fingerprints were on Jasper’s bedside table because it was he who did the dusting. Nobody would bat an eye if Norton slipped away to get more wood for the fire, or to snatch a thick, rough rope from the shed.
To his friends and grandmother Jasper was a sweetheart, but he had no love for Norton. According to Abella, Jasper was inexplicably rude to Norton on the dock. In her bedroom Camilla suggested her grandchildren should cut Norton some slack, but it was Jasper she’d been talking about. He alone was concerned with Norton’s behavior. Either he didn’t like how close Norton and his grandmother had become, or he sensed Norton was acting strange and got wary.
Even though she never got the chance to tell me, I think Abella sensed it, too. I’d concluded she and Jasper had argued because of the way Jasper was treating Norton. The photos Jade took of them in the hall, both with and without the caretaker, confirmed it. In spite of Abella’s desire to stay on her new boyfriend’s good side, she’d called him out on his discourteous behavior. It wasn’t until later on, when she witnessed firsthand the level of control Norton had over Camilla, that she understood Jasper’s paranoia about his Nana’s trusted companion was warranted.
I knew Norton would run when he saw an opening, for the simple reason that he didn’t belong in this world. It was instinct driving him now, the pure, animal need to flee—not just from Tim and me, but all the Sinclairs. I knew what that felt like. I’d run, too. But Norton was desperate, and he had Jade. She didn’t hesitate to go with him. Leave her father and take off. No, Jade wasn’t a hostage.