Island of Secrets (13 page)

Nancy poked at the mud. Several chips flaked off. Now she could see that something was imbedded in the mud. The head and body was glossy black, with brilliant orange spots.

It was a dead burying beetle!

A
BURYING BEETLE
on Winchester's boot!” Nancy whispered. Barb had said that almost all the beetles on the island were found at the Lewis-Dickens farm. Nancy knew that the person who dug the grave on the nature preserve had destroyed one of the nests. This beetle must be one of the adults that disappeared.

She had to talk to Jim. Nancy ran down to the trailer and snatched up the phone. Jim was still out. “Please tell him to meet me at the Winchester yacht as soon as he can get there.
It's urgent!”

The dispatcher promised to contact him. Nancy ran to her moped and took off. When she arrived at the dock, she saw that the
Emily Sue
was gone from its mooring. “Oh, no!” she said out loud.

Nancy scanned the harbor but didn't see it. Finally at the very end of a long pier some distance away, she spotted the
Emily Sue.
She jogged along the shoreline to the longer dock, and ran out to the end. The yacht was tied up by the gas pump, taking on fuel. Through the large, square portholes she spotted Walt Winchester inside.

Where was Jim? Nancy wondered, checking back at the road. She thought about waiting for him, but was afraid Winchester might sail off in the yacht before he arrived.

Ashley Hanna and her cousin were just getting out of a sailboat tied up at the dock. “Ashley, just the person I want to see,” Nancy said. “Would you do me a big favor? I'm expecting Sergeant Hathaway to arrive any minute. Could you wait by the parking lot and tell him where to find me? I'll be aboard the
Emily Sue
.”

“Sure, Nancy,” said Ashley. “What's going on?”

“I'll tell you later,” Nancy said. “It's very important.” Ashley nodded in comprehension and she and her cousin took off down the pier.

The tide was going out and the yacht's deck was a few feet lower than the dock. Nancy walked over to the ladder and called down, “Congressman Winchester, may I have permission to board?”

He emerged from below. “Why, Ms. Drew, what a surprise. Please, come aboard.”

As she climbed onto the
Emily Sue's
deck, he took her hand in a gentlemanly way. “Beautiful day, isn't it?” Winchester asked, leading her into the cockpit. “I thought I'd take advantage of this breeze and go for a sail.”

Now that she was in the harbor, Nancy realized that the wind was much stronger than it appeared on land. She'd become accustomed to Block Island's constant sea breeze, but she guessed that the wind was blowing close to twenty knots.

“It does look like a good day for sailing,” Nancy agreed. “I imagine the
Emily Sue
must be pretty fast under these conditions.”

“Oh, yes,” Winchester said. “She can really kick up a wake. May I offer you something to drink?”

“Thanks, but I can't stay long.” She studied him for a moment. He looked strong enough to get the better of a guy like Tom Haines in a fight.

“What's the matter, Ms. Drew? Why are you looking at me that way?” Winchester said.

“I need to ask you something,” Nancy said.

“Then come into the cabin where we can be more comfortable.” He turned and led the way down.

Nancy glanced up at the dock before, she followed him. Still no sign of Jim. She'd have to proceed on her own.

“Have a seat,” Winchester said. “Are you sure you don't want a soda?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. Congressman, you told me that you and your son were both on this boat last Friday night. But Scott told me
you
weren't here that evening.”

“He said that?” Winchester sounded startled. “Well—he's wrong!”

“Scott also said that he found a blackmail note signed
T
among the papers in your cabin.”

“Why that sneaky little—” He stopped himself, but his forehead began to glisten with perspiration. “He doesn't know what he's talking about. Scott's always been imaginative—constantly making up stories. His teachers complained about it.”

“On Monday,” Nancy continued, “Hannah and I saw you at the Captain's Catch. A man talked with you for a short time and left a briefcase for you.”

“What's wrong with that?” Winchester pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “I told you, it contained important papers.”

“Then you won't mind if the police examine it?”

“Of course not.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, it's no longer here. I took it back to New York.”

Nancy folded her arms. “I have reason to believe the briefcase is still on this yacht, and that it doesn't contain papers, but money.”

“How would you know that?”

“I also found a pair of your boots,” Nancy
went on, “that prove that you were at the nature preserve, walking—or digging—in mud.”

Winchester stood up, looming over Nancy. “Just exactly what are you trying to—”

“Nancy!” a voice called. “Nancy? Are you here? That nice girl said you were here.”

It was Hannah.

“Get rid of her,” Winchester growled. “Fast.” He yanked open a drawer and grabbed a gun.

Nancy stood slowly and crossed over to the companionway, keeping an eye on the weapon. She eased up the steps, one at a time.

“That's far enough,” Winchester ordered.

Nancy's head barely cleared the hatch. “Hannah, I'm here, but I can't talk now.”

Hannah peered down from the deck. “Why not? Is Scott with you? I've been looking all over—I couldn't wait to tell you the news. The police found the man who ran you off the road.”

“Hannah,” Nancy said with meaning.
“Scott
Winchester is not with me.”

“Oh.” Hannah straightened up slowly. “I see. Well, I'll run along then. . . .”

Nancy knew Hannah understood her and would call the police. Unfortunately, the same thing occurred to Winchester.

“Ms. Gruen!” he called, crossing to the bottom of the steps. Nancy felt the gun dig into her side. “Please come down.” It was an order, not an invitation.

Hannah glanced toward the dock. Suddenly
she began to wave at someone. “Hi, Harry! Millie, how have you been?” She took a step away.

“Nice try, Ms. Gruen. But it won't work.” His voice was steely.

“I-I don't know wh-what you mean,” Hannah stammered. “Those are friends of mine—”

“You're bluffing,” he said coldly. “I have a gun on Ms. Drew and I won't hesitate to use it. Please come down.
Right now
.”

Nancy saw Hannah's sturdy shoes appear on the steps. If Hannah hadn't come, she'd have tried a judo move on the congressman. Now she couldn't be sure of disabling him without putting Hannah in danger. He'd already killed once—the hit-and-run-driver was sure to testify to that—and had tried to kill again. Nancy knew he'd shoot if he had to. His cover was blown and he had nothing to lose.

“Ms. Drew, please take a seat on the banquette,” Winchester ordered.

Keeping her eye on the gun, she moved over to the dining table and sat on the bench.

“Slide over,” he ordered.

Slowly Nancy inched along the booth until she was in the center, where the table was between her and the room.

“That's far enough,” he said just as Hannah reached the cabin.

Hannah glanced at Nancy and seemed relieved to find her unhurt.

“Sit down, Ms. Gruen, in the swivel chair where I can see you,” he said.

Silently and with dignity, Hannah did as he said.

Nancy looked around. There was nothing in reach she could heave at Winchester, and she couldn't tip the table over because it was bolted to the floor. She could see that Winchester was attempting to appear calm, but sweat was pouring down his face. Her only hope was to goad him into doing something stupid.

“Why did you kill Tom?” Nancy asked suddenly.

Winchester seemed startled. He nervously wiped away the sweat that was trickling down into his eyes.

“I'm really curious,” she said innocently.

“That no-good bum?” Winchester said. “He was squeezing me dry. I bought him off at first, but he kept raising his demands. Every time we met he asked for more money. He didn't deserve to live!”

“Did you meet him Friday night, planning to kill him?”

“No!” Winchester wiped his face again. “I told him enough was enough. But he insisted on more money and I . . . lost my temper.”

“So you fought, and  . . .” Nancy waited.

“He had a hammer! I was only defending myself! I got it away from him and threw it.”

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“He came at me and I fought back. Somehow his head hit the rock wall—then he stopped moving.”

“If it was self-defense,” Nancy said softly, “I'm sure a jury—”

“No jury! The press would find out about the bribes! My career would be ruined!”

In spite of Winchester's fury, he managed to keep the gun steady. She had to keep him talking until Jim showed up.

“How did Tom find out you were accepting the bribes?” she asked.

“He was working on the boat, fixing the roller jib, when I had a, uh, visitor. He must have spied on us, listened in through the hatch. He should have kept his nose out of my business!”

“But don't you see, you didn't plan to kill him,” Nancy said reasonably. “If you confessed, I'm sure you'd get a light sentence and then—”

“And then what? I'm a politician! I'd never hold office again! I wouldn't even be able to practice law! I'd have nothing!”

The gun wavered slightly and Nancy tensed, wondering if she could throw herself across the table before he could pull the trigger. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hannah shake her head slightly, signaling no. She realized Hannah was in a better position to jump Winchester, if he could be distracted long enough.

“Why did you pay Hank to run me off the
road?” Nancy pressed. “Was he supposed to kill me?”

Winchester laughed harshly. “No, just give you a good scare—that's what the man putting in the sliding window was supposed to do, too. Of course, I had no idea what an irritating pest you'd turn out to be!”

Nancy realized that Hannah was on the edge of her seat, her eyes fixed on the gun. Could she cover the six feet that separated her from the congressman fast enough to knock it out of his hand?

Winchester suddenly noticed Hannah, too. “That's enough, Ms. Gruen. I know what you're planning and you can forget it. Now I'll tell you what
I'm
planning. My only hope is to get out of this country on the yacht.”

“It's a long way to international waters,” Nancy said.

“But I'll make it because I have your friend, Ms. Gruen, here.” Winchester suddenly strode across the cabin and jerked Hannah to her feet, pressing the gun barrel into the back of her neck.

Hannah gave out a muffled cry.

“Let her go,” Nancy said. “Take me instead.”

“Oh, you're coming, too, Ms. Drew, at least part of the way. But first, you will do exactly as I say, won't you?”

“Yes,” she said, knowing that if she didn't, Hannah would die.

“First, get up on deck.”

Gripping Hannah tightly, he followed Nancy, stopping at the foot of the companionway where he could watch her every move.

Under orders, Nancy disconnected the gas hose, started up the motor, and cast off the mooring lines. She kept scanning the dock and parking lot, but there was still no sign of Jim.

“Hurry up,” Winchester hissed. “Put the engine in gear and head for the mouth of the harbor.”

Nancy did what she was told. The yacht made a graceful turn and soon slid down the narrow passage between the two long stone breakwaters that led out to sea. They cruised right past the Coast Guard station, but the fear in Hannah's eyes kept Nancy from signaling for help.

The ocean swells were heavy, long, and rolling. After a while Winchester ordered, “Head into the wind and raise the main sail.”

Nancy removed the canvas cover and winched the huge sail up the mast. When she finished, she realized that Winchester and Hannah had vanished. But then a door slammed shut below, and Winchester came up on deck, the gun leveled at her.

“What did you do with Hannah?” Nancy demanded.

“She's quite comfortable, I assure you.” He checked the sails. “Nice work, Ms. Drew. It's a pity I can't hire you as crew. Unfortunately,
you've served your purpose and now it's time for you to jump ship.”

Nancy glanced at the shore, guessing they were at least a mile out to sea.

“Over you go,” he said, pushing her.