Authors: Mary Daheim
“So you can,” Judith said drily, scanning the beach. “I see some other people have come onto the beach. Is that the Logans just below the clubhouse?”
Renie shielded her eyes with her hand. The sun was starting to move to the west. “I think so. They're coming this way. Haven't you already grilled them?”
Judith shook her head. “Only Kent. I haven't met Suzie.”
“Here's your big chance,” Renie said, moving off to seek fresh sand.
Judith kept digging, but didn't lose sight of the Logans, who were definitely headed toward her. From some thirty yards away, Kent waved. Judith waved back, leaning on the shovel.
“We're seeking our supper,” she said as the couple came closer. “Are you the rare locals who don't like clams?”
Kent laughed. “We do, but only once a week. This is my wife, Suzie. I told her about you and your cousin.”
Judith grimaced. “I won't shake hands. I'm kind of grimy.”
Suzie smiled, showing perfect white teeth. Indeed, everything about Mrs. Logan seemed flawless, from her glowing rosy skin to her sleek silver ponytail. “I saw you at the meeting Friday. What a farce! We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves before the stampede started.”
Renie had wandered over with another dozen or more clams. “Hi,” she said. “I'm the other niece.”
Suzie nodded. “It's nice to have normal people around here like your aunt and uncle. Sometimes I wonder if we made a mistake retiring here. There are some odd ducks at Obsession Shores.”
Kent looked apologetic. “The problem is that it's a very small community. Scratchit Head's probably the same way. People's eccentricities tend to be more glaring.”
Suzie shrugged. “Maybe someday I'll buy that argument.” Her attractive features turned gloomy. “I can't imagine how horrible it was to find Ernie's body. That must've happened not long after you arrived.”
“True,” Judith replied, hoping to look suitably distressed. “We thought we'd take a walk before the rain started.”
Kent put an arm around his wife's shoulders. “We'd planned to do that but I got held up on a long call to a client. By the time I got off the line, the weather had turned bad.”
Suzie nodded. “I'd been practicing on the piano. I didn't know the firefighters had come and gone. In fact, I had no idea anything had happened until I saw the ambulance. We only found out Ernie had been killed when a deputy showed up to ask if we'd seen or heard anything.”
Kent nodded once. “We hadn't, of course. That's the problem with staying focused on what you're doing. You block out everything else.”
“I understand,” Judith said, hoping she didn't sound glib. “Witnesses seem scarce.” She glanced at the pile of driftwood, noting that the teenagers were gone. “Luckily, some of the younger folks were paying attention that afternoon.”
Kent looked startled; Suzie turned pale. “Who?” she asked, her hazel eyes wide. “What did they see?”
Judith laughed. “We don't live here. Renie and I refuse to get involved in local gossip.”
“Right,” Renie agreed. “We're those big-city types who never get involved. God help us to get mixed up in anything as sordid as murder.” To Judith's surprise, her cousin sounded almost sincere.
“But,” Kent protested, “surely if someone told you . . . something helpful to the investigation, you'd share it with the police. Or inform the rest of us for our own protection. There's a killer on the loose.”
“From what little we've heard,” Judith said, “most people think it was random. A head case, probably.”
Suzie moved even closer to Kent. “What if they're wrong? The sheriff's deputies haven't told us anything. At least we'd like to know if they have some leads.”
Judith shrugged. “Early days, as they say in law enforcement. The sheriff's personnel have to be very cautious.”
Kent frowned. “I forgot. Your husband's a retired policeman, right? Have you discussed the case with him?”
Judith shook her head. “He's fishing in New Zealand.”
Kent looked at Suzie. “Maybe we should call a meeting. I mean, a real meeting to figure out how we can learn about progress with the investigation. Frank Leonetti handing out flyers doesn't seem to be doing much to find the killer. We need some answers.”
“Good thinking,” Renie asserted. “You should chair the meeting, Kent. Hank Hilderschmidt doesn't know a motion from a potion.”
“She's right,” Suzie said, smiling at her husband. “You're a pro.”
Kent hugged Suzie. “Okay, let's get organized. Maybe we can set it for tonight.” He looked at the cousins. “Would you two come?”
“Dubious,” Renie replied. “We're outsiders. People get murdered all the time in the city. The meeting might bore us. Don't you folks have a neighborhood watch?”
Suzie seemed to take umbrage. “We haven't needed one. Until now,” she added, lowering her gaze.
Kent had kept his arm around his wife. “Let's go, Suze. We've got work to do.”
After the Logans hurried off, Judith gave her cousin a dirty look. “You went too far on that one. I thought you liked Kent.”
“I do,” Renie said, “but did they have to try out their alibis on us?”
“Yes,” Judith responded. “Practice makes perfect. The question is why do I think they need alibis in the first place?”
J
udith leaned on her shovel. “People give themselves away by overdoing their lies,” she said. “When I'm forced to tell a fib, I keep it simple. Kent and Suzie Logan not only told us too much, but they know too much to be telling the truth about their lack of awareness.”
Renie laughed. “I've known you to stitch some fancy embroidery of your own. But you're right. For one thing, how did they know we hadn't been here very long before we found Ernie's corpse?”
“Exactly.” The wind had risen off the bay and Judith paused to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “The Logans have a reason for not wanting anyone to know what they were doing at the time of the murder. Kent's alibi isn't worthy of him because it could easily be broken. The call itself could be checked or the person at the other end would have to lie for him.”
“But why make up such a bunch of twaddle?” Renie asked.
Judith raised an eyebrow. “Because they were on the beach?”
Renie made a face. “Kent wouldn't resort to violence. He'd take an enemy to court. And I can't see Suzie stabbing anyone. It's messy. She's a very tidy person, not a hair out of place despite the wind. A knife means blood. Wouldn't the killer have got some on him or her?”
“Good question.” Judith stared out across the bay to the snow-covered mountains on the Peninsula. “I wonder if Jacobson has found out anything about the knife Betsy found. I wish he was on duty today. I hate to bother him on a Sunday.”
“He
is
the lead detective on this case, isn't he?”
“He's the lead at the scene,” Judith replied. “Someone at the county seat in Cooptown is probably in charge, maybe the sheriff. With fifty thousand people living on the island, they must have a fairly large police force because most of the towns aren't incorporated.”
Renie's expression was quizzical. “How do you know that?”
Judith grinned. “I read it in the island phone directory while I was trying to get hold of Jacobson. Frankly, I was surprised by the number of people who live up here now. I'll bet it's doubled since Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince bought their lot.”
“Too much growth everywhere in this part of the country,” Renie said glumly. “We should charge visitors just for coming here.”
“That's mean,” Judith chided. “I'd go out of business.”
“Oh. I forgot about that.” Renie grabbed her shovel and moved farther down the beach.
The wind picked up after another fifteen minutes had passed. Judith found at least another three dozen clams, but her back began to ache. She checked her watch, which told her it was a quarter to two, and called out to her cousin, who was some thirty yards away.
“Let's quit,” she shouted.
Renie looked up from her digging and yelled something Judith couldn't make out. Apparently her cousin had found more clams. Leaving the bucket where it sat, she walked toward the staircase. She was halfway there when she saw Brose Bennett coming down to the beach.
“A niece,” he called out, coming to meet her. “You seen Fou-fou?”
“No,” Judith replied as he joined her a few yards from the steps. “Was she coming to the beach?”
Brose's long face grew even longer. “No. I can't find her anyplace. I guess she's gone.”
“Gone . . . where?” Judith inquired.
“Left,” he replied, tugging at his left earlobe. “Left me, that is. Oh, hell, it's no surprise. She's threatened to do it for years. Fou-fou better not try to get her gloms on my money. I earned it with my buns.”
“Ah . . . yes,” Judith said. “I'm sure you did. I gather your wife didn't take part in running your baking business.”
“Hell no.” Brose pulled up the hood on his rain jacket. “She likes to spend what I made, though.” He looked beyond Judith. “Here comes the other niece with a bucket. Looks like you've both been digging clams. Find anything else interesting?”
Judith turned enough to see her cousin trudging across the sand. “As a matter of fact, we did.” She waited for Renie to join them. “Hey, coz, show Brose what you found.”
Renie's eyes grew wide. “You mean the astonishing discovery of the Elizabethan coin? Hang on while I disencumber myself.”
Brose frowned at Judith. “What's she mean by that? It sounds like I should look the other way.”
Judith didn't bother enlightening him, since it took Renie only a couple of seconds to set down the bucket and the shovel. She removed the coin from her pocket and held it out in her palm.
“What do you make of that, bun boy?” she asked, making a clicking noise with her tongue.
“Wow!” Brose exclaimed. “That's incredible! Where'd you find it?”
Renie turned around, scanning the beach. “I don't remember. It's hard to tell now that the tide's almost out.”
“Well . . .” Brose stroked his long chin. “That's a funny thing. I found an old coin on the beach a couple of weeks ago. It made the local paper.”
“Slow news day, huh?” Renie murmured.
“Right, right,” Brose agreed. “I got to admit, I created quite a stir.” He glanced at Judith before speaking again to Renie. “Your cousin knows all about it. I'm surprised she didn't spread the word. Now other folks are hunting for more rare pieces. Got to be money in it somewhere. I mean, besides that they're coins.”
Judith decided to speak up before Renie got them in any deeper than she already had. “We noticed a rare coin shop in Langton yesterday. Have you had the one you found appraised?”
“No,” Brose replied. “It's not about the value, it's about the thrill. Of finding stuff like that, I mean. If other people want to cash in, that's fine with me. Besides, old Moffitt is gaga.” He glanced at the boathouse. “I wonder if Fou-fou's in there. Maybe I should have a look-see. Let me know if you find any more treasure.” He ambled off along the beach, his rain jacket flapping in the wind.
“How,” Renie asked, “is Brose working this scam? Or is he really stupid enough to believe what he's saying?”
Judith crossed her arms, feeling a bit chilly. “I'm not sure. He ran a successful business, so he isn't a complete dope. Betsy talked about her father and hidden treasure. Maybe there are some legends around here, but I never heard the Webers mention them. I suspect you're right. Brose has himself a little sideline. Middleman, maybe for brokering deals if somebody actually comes up with a valuable item. He strikes me as the type who'd enjoy a good con.”
Renie turned to look out at the bay. “Over the years some ships with valuable cargoes have sunk in the Sound, but none were this far south. Of course that doesn't mean it's impossible. It could be rumrunners from Canada during Prohibition, though if they came by sea, they usually crossed to the mainland north of Whoopee Island or over on the Peninsula. Just enough real history to make Brose's claims credible.”
Judith grew thoughtful, trying to conjure up full-masted sailing ships with gun portals on each side, and three times smaller than the ferry the cousins had taken to Whoopee Island. “Your dad taught me everything I know about ships,” she said. “Which, frankly, isn't a lot.”
Renie smiled. “As a seagoing man, he knew his stuff. You didn't have to learn how to identify every type of vessel from every different era. I actually liked doing that.”
“Speaking of boats,” Judith said, “I want another look at Uncle Vince's. Do you mind carrying the clams? I'm wearing down a bit.”
Renie scowled. “I'm smaller and I have to do the heavy lifting?” But she didn't hesitate, picking up the almost full bucket and walking with Judith over to their uncle's derelict little craft.
“The crime-scene tape is almost gone,” Judith noted. “A stranger probably wouldn't realize someone had been murdered on this beach.” She looked back at the spot where they'd found Ernie. “Why here?”
“What do you mean?” Renie asked.
“Daylight, out in the open, where anybody could see. It makes no sense.” Judith looked up at the overhanging bank above the big log and their uncle's small boat. “Let's try an experiment. It's about the same time of day that Ernie was killed. You go up to the first row of houses and I'll stand where the deed was done.”
“Okay,” Renie said. “I'll take the clams and the shovels. I don't want to have to call 911 because you dislocated your spare part.”
Judith smiled wanly. “Thanks, coz.” She waved her cousin off.