Death Comes Silently (20 page)

Max looked admiringly at Annie and Henny. “At lunch, I didn’t think there was anything to the idea that Everett was murdered. Instead, between us, we’ve uncovered enough to grab Billy’s attention.”

Henny looked grave. “I think we should provide him with a formal report.”

“Bullets are better,” Annie announced, shoving one hand through a tangle of sandy hair.

Max looked bewildered. “No one’s been shot.”

Henny hid a smile. “Possibly Annie’s thinking about presentation. Short, cogent statements.”

“Oh. Sure.” Max’s tone was hearty. He and Henny exchanged smiles.

Annie’s voice was stiff. “I am not like Pam North.”

“Certainly not.” Max’s tone was innocent.

“Pam North always beat everyone else to the truth,” Henny soothed.

“In fact, Annie’s on the right track.” Max was abruptly serious. “Hopefully, Billy will want expanded statements of everything we discovered, but first we sock him with the important points.”

Max keystroked on his laptop as they debated how to organize a presentation. It took three drafts before they were agreed. Max printed copies for each of them.

1. An index card in the jacket worn by Hathaway the day he died revealed why he took the kayak to the bay where he drowned. (See #9)
   
2. A resident on Herring Gull Road heard a boat in the bay around ten
   P.M
   . that night. No one living on the bay currently has a boat.
   
3. Gretchen Burkholt left a message in regard to the index card with Maggie Knight, the Hathaway housekeeper.
   
4. No one at the house admitted seeing the message. Maggie said she left the pad on the table in the entryway and that later she noticed the top sheet with the message had been removed. No trace of the message has been found.
   
5. Maggie may know who took the message, though she insists she doesn’t.
   
6. In phone messages to Annie Darling, Gretchen emphasized the index card “named names” and exposed a “scandal” and spoke of “tonight.”
   
7. Gretchen was murdered shortly after leaving the message with the Hathaway housekeeper. The card Gretchen found in Hathaway’s jacket was not found at Better Tomorrow.
   
8. The Hathaway family claimed not to know why Everett went to the bay.
   
9. Hathaway’s widow habitually met Doug Walker, her lover, at the Carstairs home on the bay.
   
10. It is reasonable to assume Everett received a card that informed him that his wife was meeting her lover at the Carstairs home that night and suggested Everett arrive shortly after ten
    P.M
    . in a kayak to avoid notice.
    
11. It isn’t known when Hathaway received the index card. A member of the household could have left the card in his room or car, or he may have received the card at his office Friday morning. He missed an appointment at an art gallery. When the owner called, Hathaway seemed upset.
    
12. The index card to Everett was very likely sent anonymously.
    
13. The card’s objective was not to inform Everett. The objective was to lure Everett to the bay.
    
14. Leslie Griffin’s boyfriend, Steve Raymond, lives in a cabin on the bay and knew about Nicole’s meetings with Doug Walker.
    
15. Among those who could have sent the index card to Everett: Obviously either Nicole Hathaway or Doug Walker. Steve Raymond would have informed Leslie of the meetings, so both he and Leslie can be included. Brad Milton is supervising construction at the Thornwalls and would know Doug’s Porsche. Was Trey Hathaway aware of his aunt’s affair?
    
16. Possible motives for Everett’s murder:
    

–Nicole Hathaway—freedom from a loveless marriage in hopes of a permanent relationship with Doug Walker.

–Doug Walker—he claims he wants to end the affair and appears desperate to protect his marriage. He might have been willing to commit murder if he feared Everett was suspicious and might accuse Nicole of adultery in a divorce action, naming Doug as a co-respondent. Or he might be running a double bluff to obtain Nicole’s freedom and possibly her substantial inheritance.

–Leslie Griffin—Everett had mentioned to friends his unhappiness over Leslie’s involvement with Steve Raymond and his determination to put an end to the relationship. Leslie was flippant about motives for murder, saying she thought he was a bore but indicating Nicole was a “merry widow” and that her cousin Trey was “pissed off” at Everett.

–Trey Hathaway—apparently he was angry with Everett over the business plan of the ad agency.

–Steve Raymond—he might be determined to continue his relationship with Leslie.

–Brad Milton—faced financial ruin unless Everett extended time to repay a note. He claims Everett had agreed. There is no proof. Brad was at the advertising agency Friday morning and spoke with Everett. He left shortly before noon.

–Nicole Hathaway—emotionally vulnerable, depressed by her lover’s rejection, no evidence of grief for her dead husband.

–Doug Walker—appears focused solely on himself and his family. Beneath a Realtor’s surface charm, abrasive and aggressive.

–Leslie Griffin—immature, self-absorbed, callous.

–Trey Hathaway—mercurial temperament, quick to anger.

–Steve Raymond—enjoys a bad-boy image, but Ben Parotti thought he was a decent kid.

–Brad Milton—big, tough, Eddie’s friend, not Everett’s.

“Number two. That’s what matters.” Annie was emphatic.

Paper rustled as Max and Henny checked.

“There was a boat in the bay the night Everett died!” Annie popped to her feet. At the fireplace, she grabbed a poker and thumped a log. “No one in the bay owns a motorboat.” She thumped again. Embers swirled. “It was a cold and miserable winter night. Obviously no one took a boat out on a pleasure jaunt.” Another thump. “When we find who drove that boat, we’ll have the murderer.”

Henny didn’t look hopeful. “The Hathaway boat wasn’t taken out that night.”

Annie didn’t ask if Henny was sure. Henny would be very certain before she made that statement. “Then we’ll have to see if the people involved had access to another boat.”

Max spoke quickly. “Brad Milton doesn’t have a boat now.”

Annie refused to be discouraged. “There was a boat.” Her tone was stubborn. “As far as I’m concerned, a boat in the bay that night proves Everett was murdered.”

“Post hoc, ergo propter hoc,” Max murmured.

Annie rehung the poker with a clang. “Logic is as logic does.”

Henny laughed aloud. “Ah, Pam.” Before Annie could object, Henny said quickly, “We may not have a lead to the boat, but I think Maggie knows who took that message from the hall table.” She frowned. “I warned her that it could be dangerous. She said she wasn’t fool enough to go out in a kayak. That’s the first thing I want to tell Billy tomorrow. He needs to talk to Maggie. Let’s meet at the station at nine in the morning.”

T
he right wiper clacked and stuck, leaving that portion of the windshield obscured by the mist. Henny drove carefully but confidently, her headlights piercing the pitch dark of the sodden January night. Tomorrow she’d get new wipers. Maybe she’d drop by the Gas ’N’ Go, see if Steve Raymond was working. Over the past few years, she’d regularly substituted at the high school, and she remembered Steve Raymond. Most women from seven to seventy would remember Steve. That observation would please him. She wasn’t surprised that Leslie was infatuated or that Everett had objected. Steve moved with easy grace, athletic and masculine. There was insolence in the smooth contours of his face and a taunt in his golden eyes.

Henny curved around a pothole and turned into her drive, glad to see lights shining through her uncurtained windows. Tomorrow she’d replace the bulb on the front porch, but there was enough light to get her up the steps safely. She parked and felt a flood of contentment. A day which had begun so terribly—leaving Jeremiah marooned on that small hammock, hoping against hope that she could somehow find proof of his innocence—was ending with a sense of confidence.

She opened the door. She stepped out, then made a vexed noise. She wanted to take the folder inside. She turned and bent to reach for the folder.

A sharp crack sounded. The window in the driver’s door exploded. Another crack.

Henny’s ear burned. She felt a trickle of blood down her cheek, but she was moving automatically, crouching, running behind the car, away from the lighted house, plunging into darkness.

Another shot rang out.

“Miz Brawley, I’m coming.” The distant shout carried over the water but sounded far away, too far to save her. “I’ll be there. I’m coming, Miz Brawley, I’m coming.”

Another shot. A sharp ping sounded, and Henny knew a bullet had struck the car. She was out of sight from the radiance of the porch light now. She kept running and scrambled into the pines, gasping for breath. Her ears thrummed. Was there a sound nearby? Had her attacker followed her into the woods? She couldn’t be sure. She had to keep going. Where could she go? There was no road, no path… She stumbled, dead vines tangling her feet.

“Miz Brawley, I’m almost there.” Henny heard the valiant call, knew he was trying to help but knew as well that Jeremiah could not save her. Oh, Jeremiah, you can’t help me. It’s too far and too cold to swim and would take too long even if you could manage. I’m alone. Someone wants to kill me. Her heart thudded. Her chest ached. She brushed through a tangle of ferns and crashed into a log and tumbled forward. As she fell, she heard Jeremiah’s desperate call, deep and anguished.

“Miz Brawley, I’m coming…”

A
nnie set the dishes in the cabinet, closed the door.

Max came up behind her, slipped his arms around her. “How about a little time for us?”

Annie smiled and started to turn in his embrace. Her cell phone rang.

Max’s breath was warm against her cheek, his hand slipped from her shoulder, drew the phone from the pocket of her cardigan. “New Year’s resolution, never answer any phone after ten o’clock.”

Annie plucked the phone from his hand. “I’d better check since it’s my cell…” She looked down and stiffened. “Marian. She wouldn’t call unless it was something important.” She answered. “Marian?”

“Scanner.” Marian’s voice was high and excited, the connection scratchy. “On my way to Henny’s house. Ten sixty-seven. Call for help. Code three. Lights and sirens.” In the background was the wail of sirens. “Jeez. Three cruisers passed me like I’m standing still. Four. Something bad.”

A
police cruiser parked sideways on the rutted dirt road barred the way. Its rooftop beacons rotated. Whirling red lights from several cars flashed, ominous warning signals in the velvety darkness. Lights glowed at Henny’s house and at least a half dozen harsh Maglites beamed, dotting the expanse of ground between the house and woods.

Annie braked, punched the window button.

Hyla Harrison, her face stern and set beneath her cap, strode forward, gesturing with one gloved hand. The other held a Maglite. “Clear the road. Emergency vehicles coming.”

“Oh, Hyla.” Ordinarily Annie was careful to address Hyla Harrison as sergeant when she was on duty. Serious and intense, Hyla was a stickler for the proprieties. Off duty, they were tentatively friendly, or as friendly as Hyla ever managed outside official police circles. Initially disdainful of mysteries, Hyla had become a faithful
reader of police procedurals, especially those by Ed McBain, Dell Shannon, and Kate Ellis. “Is Henny all right?”

Hyla’s pale face looked bleak. “She’s missing. Everybody’s looking. Nine-one-one reported gunshots, but nobody was here when we came. Stay out of the way. If you park over there”—the strong beam swerved toward her right, sweeping a patch of beaten ground near Henny’s garage—“you can go as far forward as that reporter’s car. She thinks she owns the world.” Marian Kenyon was not a favorite of Hyla’s. Hyla viewed the press as a life form slightly more elevated than bacteria.

“Max and I can help search.” Annie tried to keep her voice even. Inside, she felt wave after wave of panic. Where was Henny? “We’ll park and ask Billy.”

Hyla nodded, stepped back.

Annie swung the car around the cruiser, drove to a spot beside Marian Kenyon’s battered VW, jolted to a stop. Lights bobbed along the bank of the marsh and among the trees in dark woods on either side of Henny’s road.

As she and Max slammed out of the car, Billy’s voice boomed, metallic and amplified, “Flash a light. You will not be harmed. Mrs. Brawley is missing. We need your help to find her.”

Annie reached out and grabbed Max’s arm. The shouted words were unexpected, adding to the unreality of a disordered night.