Stormcatcher (4 page)

“Other than me, you mean?” His jaw tightened.

“Did Jerry have any enemies?”

“I’ve been wracking my brain about that all day.”

“Explain to me the business setup. I don’t want to be nosy, but where do you fit in?”

“I own about ten percent of the shipyard, but I don’t take any money out yet. We’re barely keeping our heads above water. Since I have an MBA, I run the office. Jerry was president, and Brian is vice president. Brian is the brains behind the designs while Jerry has always been the salesman. He could sell a refrigerator to an Eskimo.”

“So with Jerry gone, how has business been going?”

Simon shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Brian and I have been trying to take up the slack. We figured Jerry would surface when he was good and ready.”

Wynne was disliking Jerry more and more. “Did he have any enemies?”

Simon frowned. “We’d had to fire our manager two weeks before he disappeared. He’d embezzled ten thousand dollars. Right after that, we had a small fire in his old office. We managed to get it out before it did much damage, but I always wondered if he’d set it.”

“Did the sheriff check it out?”

“That was in the days of Andrew Mitchell, and he couldn’t be bothered. We never pressed charges about the embezzlement. Roger had been a friend of Jerry’s for years, and Jerry didn’t want to hurt Roger’s wife, Teresa. She was an old girlfriend.” He grinned. “Of course half the women in town were, too.”

“Jerry must have been charming.” And if he looked like Simon, it would have been a dangerous combination. Not that Simon wasn’t appealing. His good humor and killer smile would have lured his own share of women.

“So this Roger could have wanted to get back at Jerry for being fired. And maybe he was jealous that Jerry had once dated Teresa.”

“Maybe. Nothing adds up though. Killing Jerry wouldn’t get Roger his job back. Look, we’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m sure it was an accident.”

He didn’t sound sure. Wynne wondered why. “It might make him feel he’d evened the score. Is he still on the island?”

“Yeah. He opened a rival company. Shelby Boats.”

Wynne had seen it the last time she’d gone to Turtle Town. “Even more of a reason,” she pointed out. “If the
Superior Lady
was such an innovation, maybe he was afraid of being run out of business.”

“He hadn’t opened it yet.” Simon stretched his long legs along the deck.

He was so overwhelmingly male. His strong legs were tanned and muscular. Wynne turned her gaze away. “Have you seen his boats? Could he be using the design of the
Superior Lady?
”

“That would be stupid. I’d recognize it right off. He hasn’t launched anything yet.”

“Any possibility of our getting a look in his shop?”

“He’d never let me in there.”

Wynne bit her lip. There had to be a way. “Max has been thinking of buying a new boat. Maybe I could get him to call, and me and Max could go look.”

“Roger would likely be suspicious. He knows me and Max are friends, and I would likely be Max’s choice of a builder.”

“True, but what can he say if Max calls? It’s worth a try.”

Simon looked up, and his gaze was intent. “Why are you doing this? It isn’t your problem. I hired you to help find the boat, not solve a murder.”

Murder. It was an ugly word, and it was the first time anyone had spoken it, though she’d thought it. “You think it was murder, don’t you?”

Simon was silent for a long moment. “I don’t see how that boat could have gone down,” he said. “So maybe I do. I hope I’m wrong.”

“I hope so, too,” she said. More than he knew. If the sheriff deemed it homicide, they had their work cut out for them to prove Simon’s innocence.

“B
rian, you in here?” Simon walked through the boat plant, his shoes squeaking on the concrete floor. The place had that deserted feel, but he’d seen Brian’s car out back. He dreaded telling Brian the news.

“Is he here?” Wynne whispered.

“He has to be here somewhere. His car is outside.”

“Maybe he left with someone else.”

A noise came from their left, then Brian’s head appeared over the top of the bulkhead.

He stopped when he saw them. He began to smile when he saw Wynne. “You looking for me? I was working on the brightwork.” He joined them. Brian’s smile faltered when he saw the expression on Simon’s face. “I’m sorry, Simon. I know it must be hard.”

“Thanks.” Simon hadn’t had time to examine how he felt. When Amanda left him, he’d been hurt but had soon realized he’d just been lonely, and she filled the spot. He’d thought she really loved him. For the first
time, he began to wonder if she’d left with Jerry for another reason. He gave a slight shake of his head. She had her suitcase with her. He was grasping at straws.

He dragged his attention back to his cousin. “Thanks. What else did the sheriff say?”

“He—he asked a lot of questions.”

“About me?”

Brian nodded. “He wanted to know what you and Amanda had argued about the day before she disappeared with Jerry.”

Luckily, Brian didn’t know what the argument was about. Simon gave a nod. “What else?”

“Whether there were any disagreements between you and Jerry.”

“He didn’t ask about any other enemies Jerry might have had?”

“No.”

“He thinks he’s found his man, and I’m it.” Simon’s gaze met Wynne’s, and the sympathy in her eyes lifted the cloud he’d been fighting all day. She didn’t really know him, yet she believed him. The more he was around her, the more he appreciated what he saw. She would be a powerful ally to anyone.

The front door banged, and Simon heard an angry shout.

“Lassiter, I know you’re in here!”

It sounded like Amanda’s brother, Alan Whistler. Simon turned to see Alan stalk between two boats. His too-small head looked incongruous with his linebacker body. Dark eyes set too close together completed a picture of a body that didn’t quite go together.

“Hello, Alan.” Simon stepped out to intercept him.

Alan didn’t answer. He came at Simon with both fists swinging. Simon ducked and caught Alan’s right wrist in his hand. Stepping into the punch, Simon flipped Alan around with his arm behind his back.

“Let me go!” Alan struggled to get free.

Simon caught a whiff of alcohol. “Calm down and I will.”

Alan began to weep, a
huh-huh-huh
sound that sounded like it was ripping his throat apart. He dropped to his knees and covered his face with his hands. Simon curled his fingers into his palm. He wanted to comfort Alan, but the two had never been the best of friends.

Wynne glanced at Simon with confusion on her face.
Who is he?
she mouthed.

Amanda’s brother
, he mouthed back. She nodded. The comprehension flooding her face was followed with sympathy.

She knelt beside Alan and put her arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry about your sister,” she said. “We’re trying to find the boat to see if we can discover what happened.”

Alan raised his head. “I know what happened,” he said, his voice choked. He raised his hand and pointed at Simon. “He murdered Amanda and Jerry.”

Wynne’s hand dropped. She stood and backed away from Alan. “Your grief is clouding your judgment.”

He looked at Wynne. “Who are you anyway? His new girlfriend? His money isn’t worth it.” He spat the
words and stood, ramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Simon clenched his fists. “That’s enough, Alan,” he said. “I know you’re upset, but you don’t need to take it out on Wynne. This is Wynne Baxter.”

Alan’s scowl faded. “Baxter? You’re related to the Baxters of Windigo Manor?”

“She’s Becca’s sister,” Brian put in.

Alan sneered at Simon. “Going for respectability? Even hooking up with a Baxter won’t wash away what you are.”

Simon rubbed his head. “Look, go home, Alan. You’re not making sense. I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry about that. But bandying words with me isn’t going to change things. I’m going to do all I can to find out what happened to
Superior Lady
.”

“Yeah, right.” Alan stomped toward the door then turned. “Any spin you put on it will cover up what really happened.” He looked at Wynne. “Ask him what he and Amanda fought about the day before she disappeared.”

Simon could feel Wynne’s eyes on him, could sense the question in her eyes. “Go home, Alan,” he repeated wearily. He wasn’t up to discussing this anymore today. He tried to roll with the punches, but they kept coming, and he felt battered.

Alan gave him a final glare and stomped from the boathouse. Moments later the roar of his vehicle came through the open door.

Brian looked at him. “What was the argument about? You’ve never said.”

“And I’m not going to now,” Simon said. He took Wynne’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

The verandah overlooked Superior’s blue water. A cedar waxwing warbled from a branch over Wynne’s head. She dug out her bird journal and jotted it down. She tossed some toast crumbs to the flagstone floor, and the songbird flew down to peck at the morsels.

“Still bird-watching?” Becca joined her at the table.

“So far, I’ve added four new birds—a yellow-rumped warbler, a rough-legged hawk, a cedar waxwing and a Harris’ sparrow.”

“You’re hopeless.” Becca handed Wynne the baby.

Wynne nestled little Isabelle against her shoulder, and the baby put her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes. Gazing at the rosebud mouth, Wynne felt a surge of motherly instinct. She laid her lips on Isabelle’s soft head and breathed in the aroma of baby. The more she was around her niece, the more she envied her sister.

Becca flipped idly through Wynne’s bird diary. “What time are you supposed to meet Simon?”

“About ten. He had some things to do this morning.” She chewed on a ragged thumbnail. Maybe she should back away from working with Simon.

Becca’s head came up. “Is that reserve I hear in your voice? Did things not go well yesterday? We didn’t get a chance to talk last night.”

“Things went fine other than Simon is under suspicion for murdering his cousin and his fiancée.”

Becca winced. “Serious suspicion? I don’t believe it. Simon is a great guy.”

“Even great guys get caught up in passion.” Wynne hadn’t wanted to entertain any suspicions about Simon, but it was hard to stay objective with the mounting accusations. “I don’t want it to be true, but it’s hard when he acts guilty.”

“How does he act guilty?”

Wynne told her sister how Simon refused to talk about the argument he’d had with Amanda.

“But that could just be because it was painful,” Becca offered.

“Yeah, but you have to admit it looks suspicious.”

Before Becca could answer, a deep voice carried through the open French doors. “Where’re those baby sisters?”

“We’re out here, Jake,” Becca called.

Wynne’s tension melted away as her brother and his wife joined them on the verandah. She’d hardly seen them so far this trip. Skye’s round stomach suited her. Her black hair was tied back in a ribbon, and her smile was full of contentment.

“Skye, you look ready to pop,” Wynne said. She pushed a spare chair out with her foot. “Sit down.”

“I feel great.” Skye ran her hand over Isabelle’s fuzzy head. “Does she sleep all the time?”

“She’s starting to stay awake more.” Becca’s smile was indulgent.

“I can’t wait,” Skye said, running her hand over her protruding belly.

“How about you, big brother? You ready to be a dad?” Wynne teased.

“About as ready as a chicken is to take wing,” Jake said. “I’m scared spitless.” He touched the baby with a finger. “I was fine until this little morsel was born and I saw how tiny a newborn really is. I’m afraid I might break her.”

“Don’t be silly.” Becca lifted her daughter from Wynne’s arms and handed her to Jake, whose expression was a mixture of terror and elation. The baby opened her eyes and looked at her uncle, then promptly went back to sleep.

“You’re losing your touch,” Wynne said. “Women used to be wide-awake around you and your charm.”

“It’s all Skye’s fault. She’s ruined me for any other woman.” Jake cradled the baby’s head in his big hands.

“I have a feeling our new son will upstage me,” Skye said.

“It’s a boy?” Wynne and Becca said at the same time.

Jake and Skye burst into laughter. “If you could see the expression on your faces,” Skye said. “I had an ultrasound yesterday. It’s a boy!”

“A nephew,” Wynne said. She should be elated, but a hollow feeling settled into her stomach and refused to go away. Soon her brother and sister would be caught up in their own lives. She’d be just a peripheral figure. While she was happy for them, she knew loneliness was going to become a constant companion.

“Why aren’t you out scouring the deep for a Viking ship?” Jake’s eyes were mocking.

Wynne made a face at him. “I know it sounds crazy. But we’re not really looking for the Vikings now. We’re searching for the
Superior Lady
that went down about three months ago.”

“Not quite your style.”

“Haven’t you heard about the bodies that surfaced?” Wynne asked.

“I haven’t listened to the news today,” her brother said. He handed Isabelle to her mother when she started to fuss. “What’s up?”

Wynne told him about the murder accusations. “So you see we need to find that boat.”

“I’m not sure I like you getting involved in this,” Jake said. “I’m not suspicious of Simon, but if this really is murder, whoever did it is not going to like you poking around. He or she might decide to come after you.”

“You think it could be a woman?” Wynne was intrigued with the idea. Most murders were committed by men, and she’d just assumed it was a man.

“You never know. Did Jerry have a girlfriend?”

“He’d had lots of them, from what I understand. Did you ever meet him?” Wynne decided she’d pump her brother while he was in a talkative mood.

“Once. I ran into him with Simon in Turtle Town, and Simon introduced us. I can’t say I was impressed with him. He kept boasting about how his boats were the best out there. And he paid too much attention to Skye.”

Skye laughed. “That’s his real objection. I liked Jerry.”

Jake gave his wife a doting look. “I didn’t like it, that’s all. Some jealous girlfriend or husband could have decided he’d gone too far.”

“Simon fits that category, too,” Wynne pointed out. She stood and stretched. “I’d better get to the dock.”

“Talk to you later,” her siblings called.

She walked down the hillside to the dock. An Ojibwa fisherman was putting away his gear when she arrived.

He gave her a long, slow look from under his bushy brows. “You’re the woman who disturbs the boats,” he said.

“I search for shipwrecks,” she corrected. She didn’t know whether to be alarmed or not. He seemed harmless.

“It’s not wise to disturb the dead,” he said. “The
Thunderbird
will punish us all.” He stepped closer, and she took a step back. “You should leave this island. There is nothing for you here.”

“I have a job to do,” she said.

“You can’t do anything if you’re dead,” he said, taking up his fishing pole and bait box.

He left her standing there with her mouth agape.