ShadowsintheMist (24 page)

He smiled at my look of disbelief. “Yes, I know it sounds
farfetched but accidental shootings take place more often than you realize.
People go out with rifles and shotguns and don’t know how or where to use them
properly. We have to look at all the angles.”

“What about Giles?” I asked. “That was no accident.”

His face closed in an instant and he studied me. “What makes
you say that?”

“Oh, come on,” I said, impatience making me short. “My
father was murdered. Giles tells me he’s got something urgent to tell
me—something that makes him believe I’m in danger. I go to meet him and find
him dead! Do you really think I’m stupid enough to believe it was an accident?”

Bill leaned forward and put his hands flat on the desk. “I’m
afraid you’ve lost me, Suzanna. Perhaps you can start at the beginning and tell
me exactly what happened.”

I shrugged and waited for him to switch the tape recorder
back on, then I launched into a summary of my experiences of the past few days.
I felt more comfortable with him now. At least, he was no longer treating me
like a mindless bimbo and this small spark of human kindness gave me the
incentive to confide in him.

He shook my hand warmly when I stood to go.

“Tell me, how did you rule me out as a suspect?” I asked. “And
why is it no one from the FBI has approached me? I’d think they’d be extremely
anxious to pick my brain for information.”

“Yes,” he said, “I’ve wondered that myself. All I can guess
is for some reason, they don’t need to—that they’re on to something neither you
nor I know anything about. Still, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to me if
there’s anything else you can remember, or any other suspicions you might have.

“They may not want me on this case but I’ll be damned if I’m
just going to sit on my hands and do nothing.” He smiled. “And as for ruling
you out… Well, we have our ways. I can’t give away all our tricks.”

“All of them?” I smiled. “I’d settle for one or two!” But I
didn’t pursue it, satisfied there was something being done and someone who
cared about what I thought.

After assuring him I’d keep in touch and call him at the
least sign of danger, I left, more determined than ever to get to the bottom of
this gruesome puzzle. Time was of the essence now, for whether or not I wanted
to admit it, my life might depend on finding the answers.

By the time I left the police station, I was feeling
considerably less dejected. Giles’ death made my heart heavy but at least I now
knew I wasn’t overdramatizing things. My suspicions about Leo had proved
correct and, though Bill reminded me emphatically that an autopsy was not yet
complete, my deductions about Giles’ “accident” were shared by more than a few.

At least, this was something the local police could get
involved in. They’d send experts to inspect the speedboat and keep me notified
as to the coroner’s findings.

Grant’s part in the affair was becoming more and more
confusing. It seemed he’d told the truth about the FBI’s involvement. This,
however, didn’t necessarily rule him out as a suspect. The best place for a
murderer to be in this situation was at the heart of the investigation, where
he could always stay one step ahead by removing clues or silencing anyone who
might appear to be a threat like poor Giles.

Mentally, I skimmed over my private list of suspects and
realized it was not growing smaller. The only substantial clue I had was the
poker and that was gone now. I was certain Grant would’ve handed it over to the
authorities. He would have had no alternative. But he was smart enough to know
his fingerprints on it would prove nothing, since he and I handled it the day
he wrested it from my grasp. I was surprised, however, that the police hadn’t
dusted for fingerprints in and around the fireplace where the poker was kept
unless, like me, they knew the murderer must be someone who lived in or
frequented the house.

I drove toward the marina and noted that it was open for
business. With David away and Colin preoccupied with Alicia, Mike would
undoubtedly be taking care of things. On impulse, I turned in the drive.

It was still drizzling and the place looked deserted. The
door to the office was unlocked but no one appeared when I entered. I peered
over the counter trying to see into the small room behind. The appointment book
was open on the counter and I perused it, noting only one fishing reservation
scheduled for ten a.m. The clock on the wall said one. Unless Mike had
captained the cruiser himself, he should be somewhere around.

I followed the path around the side of the building and onto
the boardwalk, where a number of vessels bobbed rhythmically in the dreary
rain. At the far corner, tied well away from the boats, was the Dirkston seaplane.
It was there I found him, squatting at the rear of one pontoon, engrossed in
manipulating some attachment there. I hailed him from the pier and he looked
up, his face shadowed within the hood of a bright yellow slicker. Without
hesitation, he rose and made his way agilely over the rocking pontoon, ducking
beneath the wing and stepping neatly up beside me. I pulled my own hood closer
about my face.

“I was in town, so I thought I’d stop and see if I could
help out here but it looks as though it’ll be a slow day.”

He regarded me curiously, then nodded. “It’s been pretty
quiet lately. Gettin’ close to the end of the season.”

“You left the office open. Aren’t you worried someone might
rob the till?”

He flashed a broad smile. “There’s nothin’ to steal in
there. We did the banking yesterday.”

I glanced over his shoulder. “Is something wrong with the
plane?”

“No. Just checking things out. It pays to go over it
regularly.” He brushed some water from his face. “No point standing out here.
Come inside and have a cup of coffee.”

I followed him back to the office and he disappeared into
the back while I removed my dripping raincoat and hung it on a coatrack near
the door. The waiting room was far from luxurious. I sat down on one of the
four deck chairs arranged around the cheap, blond laminate coffee table. When
Mike returned, he was carrying two steaming mugs, his own sodden rain gear
discarded. He didn’t sit down but propped an elbow on the counter and regarded
me over his cup, making me feel uncomfortable.

“I suppose you’ve heard the news,” I said.

“About Dr. Lancaster? Sure.”

“It was quite a shock to us all.”

He nodded. “Guess all that health and fitness stuff makes no
difference, eh? When it’s your time to go, well…” He smiled, not needing to
complete the thought.

I shifted, biting back a tart remark. I didn’t like his
nonchalant attitude. His insensitivity was irritating. He seemed to be waiting
for me to say something. I changed the subject. “Where are you staying these
days, Mike? Still in town?”

He nodded.

“I suppose you’ve got enough work around here to keep you
busy?”

“For now. But they’ll be shutting the place down for the
winter soon.”

“You’ll still be flying for Dirkston though.”

His brows drew together and he took a noisy slurp of coffee
before responding. “You’d know more about that than me. Mr. Fenton seems to
want to do most of his business over the phone lines. He’s made it pretty clear
I should start looking for work elsewhere.”

“What?” I asked, surprised. “Did Grant say that?”

He shrugged. “Not in so many words but he and I never hit it
off too well and I’m not one to hang around where I’m not wanted.”

I mulled this over. It was true the seaplane was rarely used
once the snows set in but there was the helicopter kept on its private pad at
the Dirkston offices, or when needed, here at the small airport in Ludington. A
pilot was essential no matter what time of year, not just for Grant but for the
other executives as well. It didn’t make sense to me that Grant might suggest
otherwise.

Mike was frowning into his cup sullenly and I almost felt
sorry for him.

“I can’t understand why Grant would want you to leave.
Perhaps you misunderstood? Maybe I could talk to him. Do you have any idea why
he took this sudden attitude?”

His voice fairly dripped with bitterness. “You’ll excuse me
for saying so but Mr. Fenton seems to be getting rid of anything or anyone that
reminds him of your father. Now he’s got his fingers in the honeypot, he’s not
interested in what happens to the people who were loyal to Mr. Dirkston.”

I frowned, wondering with renewed apprehension if there was
any basis to Mike’s accusations. Setting my coffee cup down, I stood up and
reached for my raincoat, my mouth set.

“Thanks for the coffee, Mike. I’ll talk to Grant. Maybe we
can sort this out.”

He raised his brows in surprise and flashed me a charming
smile. “That’s mighty kind of you.” I opened the door. “Tell David, if you see
him,” he added, “I’m real sorry about his dad. Tell him I’ve got things under
control here.”

I nodded and left, grateful the rain had let up sufficiently
to allow me a dry run to the car. Was Mike exaggerating, or was it true Grant
was making even more changes behind my back?

I stopped at Spindrift to check on David on my way home,
surprised and more than a little annoyed to find Darla still fawning over him.
She’d obviously made herself right at home, greeting me at the door and
ushering me through as though she’d lived there all her life.

David was immensely improved since I last saw him. He was
dressed and shaven, sitting on the sofa sipping a cup of frothy coffee that
reeked of whisky. He greeted me over his shoulder and patted the seat next to
him.

“Why don’t you fix one of these for Suzanna, Darla? She
could probably use one too.”

Darla smiled stiffly but acquiesced. I waited until she
disappeared into the kitchen, then turned to him.

“How are you?” I asked with concern.

He made a feeble attempt at a smile. “I’ll be okay. How
about you?”

“I’ve been to the police.” I saw no reason to beat around
the bush. David needed to know what was going on and I preferred to tell him
without Darla present.

He raised his eyebrows. “So soon? I suppose they’ll be
knocking on my door any minute. What did they want?”

I hesitated, torn between an instinct to protect him from
further hurt and the conviction he should hear about Giles from my lips and no
one else’s.

“David, the police have their suspicions that Giles’ death
wasn’t an accident.”

Slowly, he raised his pale blue eyes over the rim of his
cup. The shock in them made me regret my bluntness. I looked down at my hands
folded tightly in my lap and proceeded to tell him what I knew. He set the cup
down and I noticed that his hand shook slightly. After a few moments of
thought, he rubbed the back of his neck wearily.

“Murder,” he breathed. “I can’t believe it. Who would want
to… Do they have any idea?”

I laid my fingers gently on his arm. “I really don’t know.
They aren’t saying much. But I think we can assume it all ties in with Leo’s
death. Your father had something important he wanted to tell me. I think he
knew something about Dad’s murder. He may well have known who did it. I think
that’s why he was killed.”

David stared at me. Before he could reply, Darla returned
and, oblivious to our somber expressions, began chattering about the
unpredictable weather and the inconvenience of having to change clothes almost
hourly to suit it. She nodded in the direction of the huge windows.

“See what I mean? The rain’s stopped and the sun’s out! Now
things will heat up and I’ll be simply sweltering before the end of the
afternoon. It’s September, for heaven’s sake!”

I grimaced and sipped the warm drink she’d placed before me.
Darla sat opposite and her bright eyes darted between us with open curiosity.

It was David who broke the silence. He stood up abruptly,
downed the last of his drink and flexed his long legs. “I think I’ll go over to
the marina. I’ll go mad if I sit here much longer.” He smiled apologetically at
Darla. “Not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done. I just need to get out.”

She nodded benignly. “I’m glad to be of any help. Grant hasn’t
had much work for me lately and I feel like a bit of a freeloader at Beacon.”

I didn’t trust myself to respond politely to this, so I set
aside my barely touched drink and stood up as well. “I must be going too. I’ve
got a few bones to pick with Grant.”

David lifted a curious brow but said nothing. Darla, seeing
no other alternative, gathered up her belongings and followed us out.

David walked with me to my car and kissed me lingeringly. I
couldn’t help shooting a victorious glance in Darla’s direction before driving
off, feeling as though I’d scored a winning point. It’s surprising what baser
instincts surface when faced with a bit of competition.

Grant’s car wasn’t in the drive when I arrived home but I
noticed Alicia in the living room chatting on the telephone. By the time I
removed my raincoat and placed it on the rack in the hall, she’d hung up and
was scribbling hastily on a pad of paper.

“You seem better today,” I commented, coming into the room.

She looked up and her face was lit. The change in her was
indeed remarkable. She’d washed her hair and applied makeup. Even her long
nails were newly painted and she seemed to have revived much of her old energy.

“I feel better,” she responded brightly. “I needed something
to take my mind off all the horrid affairs of late and I’ve found just the
thing!”

“What is it?” I smiled. “I could use some myself.”

“Colin suggested I get together with some of my old friends
and I thought the best way was to have a little party.”

“Party?” I echoed, sitting down and taking the list she
offered. There were at least a hundred names. A few I recognized but most were
unfamiliar. “If all these people come, this won’t be a little party.”