Dead By Midnight (12 page)

Annie called out. “A little more to your left.”

Officer Harrison obediently edged to her left.

“Stop there.”

The slender policewoman stood still.

Annie nodded approval. “Turn toward that big hummock.” A raccoon stood on a hump of greenery about forty feet out in the marsh. “The one with the raccoon.”

Officer Harrison faced the marsh. She was very near the spot where Elaine Jamison had stood earlier that morning.

“That’s it.”

Billy lifted his voice. “Stay where you are, Officer.” He nodded at Annie. “You didn’t see what she threw?”

“I didn’t see her throw anything.” Annie emphasized the verb. “When I looked around the cane, her arm was coming down.” Annie raised her arm above her head, began a downward sweep. “Her arm was here.” Her elbow slightly bent, she lowered her arm until it was level with her shoulder. “As I watched, her arm came down to her side.”

Billy’s cell phone rang. He lifted it, spoke fast. “Right. Yellow Corolla. Check the ferry. Send Officer Portman to make sure the car doesn’t leave the island. As soon as she’s found, inform her that the police would like to speak with her.” He clipped the phone to his belt, nodded at Annie. “Thank you for your assistance.” Billy started to turn away.

Annie blurted, “Whoever killed Glen Jamison killed Pat Merridew.”

The police chief stopped, looked toward her, his impatience scarcely concealed. “This investigation has just begun, but I might point out, even assuming the Merridew death was homicide, that there is no apparent connection between the two deaths, including the fact that the manner of death is different. However, I will keep your suggestion in mind.” This time he moved purposefully away.

Clearly, she and Max had been dismissed. “Billy,” she called after him. She asked what she knew must be asked: “Did you find a gun in the study?”

He paused, looked over his shoulder. “No weapon has been discovered. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He strode swiftly toward the marsh.

Max touched Annie’s arm. “Billy’s finished with us.”

Annie pointed toward the lagoon. “Let’s see what they find.” She knew what they were seeking, a missing murder weapon.

Billy reached the bank and spoke with Officer Harrison. Lou Pirelli, a stocky, baseball-loving police officer, swung down from the crime van and strode toward the marsh. He carried a pair of waders in one hand and a chunk of brick in the other. A cane fishing pole rode in the crook of one arm and a plastic-handled landing net dangled from a wrist strap. Dark-haired, handsome Lou was always good-humored. He helped coach baseball at the island youth center, where Max taught tennis and golf. Lou handed the chunk of brick to Hyla Harrison, then stepped a few feet away to pull on the black rubber hip waders.

Annie and Max joined Marian Kenyon behind crime-scene tape strung across the path between a live oak and a palmetto.

The classical round lens hood of the reporter’s M8 Leica gleamed in the sunlight. Marian held a pen poised above a notepad. She practically quivered with excitement. “Fill me in. Why’s Hyla standing on the bank after you choreographed her?”

Annie looked at the dark-haired reporter. Marian was as persistent as a Lowcountry mosquito and just as hard to evade. “Let’s watch and find out.”

Marian scowled. She spoke to Annie, though she didn’t take her gaze away from police clustered on the bank of the lagoon. Lou pulled on plastic gloves. Marian’s tone was cool. “Why the brush-off ?”

Max was placating. “Give Annie a break. If she told you, you couldn’t use it. Vince is pretty particular about libel.”

“Oooh.” Marian made a note on her pad. “Don’t think I’m going to forget.” She took a step nearer the tape and stared at the lagoon. “What’s up now? Why’s Hyla clutching that piece of brick?”

Billy Cameron’s voice carried well. “Officer, pretend the brick’s a gun. You want to get rid of it pronto. Heave it as hard as you can.”

“I like that. Very cunning.” Marian made quick notes. “For a little while there, I thought maybe our uniformed best planned to play skip-a-rock for a little R and R.”

As they watched, Officer Harrison threw. The chunk of brick splashed into the marsh midway between the bank and the big hammock. The raccoon whirled and disappeared into a thicket of greenery.

Using a cane pole to test the squishy bottom, Lou slogged through marsh water. The tide was running out, exposing the mudflats. Fiddler crabs moved swiftly like small herds of thundering bison. Lou moved on a steady slant toward the big hummock, though his progress through the mushy mud was clearly an effort. Several times he stumbled, possibly hooking the toe of a boot into submerged roots.

Max shook his head. “Finding anything in that glop is as likely as picking a diamond out of broken glass mired in muck. And that would be if you could see what you’re doing. Lou can’t see a thing in the silt-filled water. The pole will strike either mud, reeds, or roots. If he bangs something hard, it could be a gun or a root. I’d say this is an exercise in futility.”

“About there,” Hyla shouted.

Lou poked the pole in delicate jabs, going a few inches at a time as he explored the brown water in front of him.
Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
Two steps forward.
Tap, tap
. . . Lou raised the pole, returned it toward the same spot with the same angle.

A car’s motor sounded. Dust boiled up as a yellow Corolla jolted to a stop in the dusty drive near the cottage. The driver’s door was flung open. Elaine Jamison rushed across the uneven ground with its clumps of wire grass amid open patches of sandy soil.

She came to the bank, stared at the uniformed police. “What’s going on here?”

Billy eyed her thoughtfully. “Perhaps you can tell us, Miss Jamison.”

She was abruptly wary, her narrow face intent, questioning. “Who are you?”

“Police Chief Billy Cameron.”

“A little more to the left,” Hyla called.

Elaine looked out at the marsh. She might have been a lovely woman in expensive casual summer wear, a terra-cotta linen blouse, white cropped slacks, rose-red sandals—except for the tautness of her body.

“Like she’s up close and personal with Dracula,” Marian breathed. She lifted her camera, adjusted the lens, clicked several times. The reporter’s inelegant comment was utterly apt.

Elaine lifted a hand to the open throat of her blouse. “Chief Cameron, why are you here?”

“We are investigating a crime.”

She waited, her eyes fixed on his face.

Annie felt as if she was watching a large cat toy with a cornered mouse. “Cruel.” The word, scarcely audible, fell between her and Max.

He slid an arm around her shoulders. “He suspects her. He’s trying to make her come out into the open. That’s fair enough, Annie.”

“Better than
The Shield
,” Marian observed.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Elaine’s voice rose.

Billy was brusque. “We responded to a 911 call at ten-fifteen this morning. Suspected homicide. The victim has been identified as Glen Jamison.”

“Glen.” Her voice shook. “Where was he found?”

“At the house. By Richard Jamison.”

“They need me. The children . . .” She turned away.

“Hey, Chief.” Lou’s shout was robust. “I found something.” He lifted the pole out of the water, stuck it in the mud a foot to his left. He gripped the landing net and eased the net down into the water. He made a scooping motion, lifted. Water sprayed from the net. Lou held the net aloft. A broken whiskey bottle dangled above the water. With a shake of his head, Lou used the net like a jai alai player and the bottle splashed twenty feet away. He grabbed the pole and resumed his slow exploration.

“Miss Jamison.” Billy’s voice was heavy.

Annie could see Elaine clearly, more clearly than she would have wished.

Elaine’s face was stiff and pale, her eyes empty.

Billy took several steps, stood perhaps a foot from her. He stared down, his gaze intent and measuring. “You were observed this morning. What did you throw in the marsh?”

“I have nothing to say. I am going to the house now.” She spoke wearily, as if she’d run a hard race and all her strength was gone. “I must see about the children. And about Glen.” She took a deep, ragged breath.

Billy’s voice was hard. “I can take you to the station for questioning.”

“I don’t know anything that will help you. Let me see about the children.” Her control crumbled. She choked back a sob. “They’ve lost their father. I’ll be there if you want me.”

Billy watched in silence as she started, head down, for the verandah. He jerked his head toward Officer Harrison. “Stay with her. See what she says.” He shouted to Lou, “Keep looking.” He turned and strode toward the house.

Marian called out, “Do you have a person of interest?”

He ignored her call.

As he climbed the back steps and moved toward an open French window, Marian was sanguine. “I didn’t think he’d commit this early, but it’s pretty clear where he’s going. Lawyer shot to death. Witness sees sister toss something, think firearm, into the muck. One plus one equals two.”

Annie swung toward Marian. “I didn’t see her throw anything.”

Marian arched a dark brow. “You don’t like being the finger, but that’s the way killers get caught. Of course, Lou will have to have a shamrock on his shoulder to find anything out there.” She gestured toward the marsh. “Although I’d be the last to pick Elaine Jamison to pull the trigger of anything deadlier than a perfume atomizer. Shows how much I know. Anyway, it’s going to make a big-time story, even if I have to be careful how I play it.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of, I got less than twenty minutes before deadline.” She whirled and broke into a steady trot toward the road.

Max touched Annie’s arm lightly. “Come on, Annie. I don’t think there’s anything we can do here.”

“I’ve done enough, haven’t I?” Her voice was shaky.

“You did what you had to do.” He didn’t go on to say that Elaine Jamison was digging her own grave by her lack of cooperation, but his eyes told her.

Annie swallowed hard. “I was here a few days ago and talked to Elaine. She was so open about Glen and the problems in the family. She would never have told me any of that if she’d intended to shoot him. She made it clear that she loved Glen. She said he wasn’t at fault. She blamed everything on Cleo.”

Max looked thoughtful. “Maybe it was Cleo’s fault that Glen made his kids mad, but you said Elaine was furious that they were unhappy.”

Oyster shells crackled beneath their shoes. They came out from beneath the shadow of a live oak and started across the rough lawn toward the car.

Annie made no answer. She couldn’t disagree. Elaine had been angry with her brother over his treatment of Laura, Kit, and Tommy. Someone shot Glen Jamison in his study, which argued a killer near at hand. Elaine’s distraught appearance this morning was suspicious. Moreover, the movement of her arm as she stood on the bank of the marsh indicated she had thrown something, and no murder weapon had been found in Glen’s study.

Annie’s steps slowed as they reached the front yard. She stopped and looked toward the steps to the wide verandah. “I have to go inside.”

She walked swiftly toward the porch. Max didn’t call after her.
Thank you, Max, thank you for understanding, thank you for knowing I have to be honest.
Steeling herself, she ran lightly up the steps.

The front door was unlocked, of course. So many were going in and out as part of the investigation. With a quick breath, Annie opened the screen door and stepped into the central hallway. A soft murmur of voices sounded from the drawing room.

Officer Harrison stood in the open doorway to the drawing room. She turned at the squeak of the hinges. She looked at Annie, unhooked the cell from her belt, flipped up the cover.

Annie moved as though she were confident of her reception. She lifted her voice, the better to be heard in the living room. “I have to speak to Elaine Jamison.”

Hyla punched the cell. “Mrs. Darling wants to talk to Elaine Jamison.”

Footsteps sounded. Elaine stood in the doorway. “Annie, we have great trouble.”

“That’s why I’ve come.” Annie walked past the police officer, who listened, then pocketed the cell.

Apparently, Billy didn’t mind Annie’s presence as long as Hyla heard every word.

Annie glanced around the room. Obviously, Frank Saulter had finished taking the family members’ statements because now they were all here. Kit Jamison huddled, knees to her chin, in a side chair. Laura and her brother, Tommy, shared a small sofa. Annie’s gaze paused at Tommy. He’d combed his hair and changed into a larger shirt that fit him much better than the earlier tight polo. Richard Jamison stood by the window. His glance at Annie was quizzical.

Annie took a deep breath. Elaine deserved the truth. “I was in your backyard this morning. I told the police that I saw you come out of your cottage.”

The silence in the living room was taut and stressed. Every face turned toward the doorway where Elaine and Annie stood.

Elaine raised a hand as if to ward off Annie’s words.