Engaged to Die (18 page)

There was a scrabbling sound. Henny's voice came from a distance, grew clearer. “Here it is. I'd propped it up by the coffeemaker so Annie wouldn't miss it.” Henny cleared her throat. “‘A faithful friend is a strong defence: and he that hath found such an one hath found a treasure—Ecclesiasticus VI, 14.'” A thoughtful pause. “And who would expect your mother to peruse the Apocrypha?”

Laurel's wide-ranging mind was a topic Max felt better left unexplored. But she was, as so often, on point. Annie defending Chloe and he defending Billy and no telling what the outcome would be. But for now, Max saw his own duty clear. “Are there any other messages?” Had Chloe called, left any hint as to her whereabouts?

“Yes.” Henny was always efficient. “Two customers and I've called both. That's all.”

“If Chloe Martin telephones or comes, call the station.” He felt the resistance on the other end of the line.

“Billy intends to take her into custody as a material witness.”

“I see.” A hesitation. “Max, have you talked to Annie?”

“I will.” His voice was firm. “I promise.”

When the call ended, he stood a moment longer, frowning, then punched in the number of Annie's cell phone. After five rings, the voice mail picked up. He spoke firmly. “Annie, I need to talk to you. Chloe didn't show up this morning. She's a fugitive.” He waited to let her think about that. “If she gets in touch with you—” He paused, wondering what to say and how to say it. Finally, his voice sober, he urged her,

“—tell her to turn herself in. Anything else is stupid. And serious. I know this will upset you, but try not to worry. If Chloe's innocent, she'll be all right.” He believed that. He wished Annie did. “Oh, by the way, Henny's manning the store. She thought you needed her. Call me on my cell as soon as you can. I'll keep it on.” A pause. “Love you.” He locked the keys, shoved the phone into his pocket, his face somber.

The onshore breeze rustled the palmetto fronds near the front steps of the station. The lonely sound was punctuated by the fading toot from the ferry en route to the mainland. Max pictured Frank Saulter standing at the railing, looking out toward the mainland over the choppy water, relishing the cold winter wind, holding tight to his carefully boxed evidence en route to the FedEx office. Max had a sense of isolation and uncertainty and a bone-deep conviction that Billy's investigation had to expand. Sure, Chloe Martin was suspect number one. But she wasn't the only suspect. And Billy had yet to read the statements from last night or interview the family.

Abruptly, Max swung about. He hurried into the station.

Mavis looked up from the dispatcher's desk. She tried to smile, but it wasn't a success. Her eyes were dark with worry. She knew better than anyone the strain upon Billy.

Max gestured toward the frosted door leading to the offices. “Okay if I use Billy's office?”

“Of course.” She watched him open the door, called out quickly, “Let me know if you need anything. Max—”

He paused.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” There was a hopeless tone in her voice.

He flashed a smile. “Don't worry. Billy can handle it.” But as the door closed behind him, Max frowned. Billy would certainly look at the other evidence. He was a good law officer and a fair one. But he might easily be persuaded to charge Chloe Martin with murder. The case against her was strong. And what if Annie was right in her defense?

Max stood by Billy's desk. Frank was en route to the mainland. Lou was driving the island back roads. Billy was searching, too. That left it up to Deputy Max Darling to do his best to be sure Billy didn't make a mistake.

His gaze scanned the cluttered desk, skimming past the leather foldout with pictures of Mavis and Billy deep-sea fishing, Kevin in his Boy Scout uniform, Billy pitching to Kevin, a flushed Mavis dishing up chili at a cookout, Billy tall and solemn in his uniform accepting a commendation from Chief Garrett. There was a picture of Mavis on their wedding day, the pink of her cheeks a match for her new suit and the roses in her bouquet. A silver trophy proclaimed the championship of the island rugby team, captained by Billy
Cameron. A half-eaten Snickers bar rested next to a stack of legal pads. A jar of Tums, a tin of Altoids, and—Max heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted the orange folder. He flipped it open. There they were, the statements taken by Annie last night.

Max flung himself into Billy's chair. He made notes as he read:

 

Check out Elaine Hasty.

Why didn't Tony Hasty mention O'Neill's relationship with his    daughter?

Question Rusty Brandt.

Ditto Beth Kelly.

 

He saved Annie's statement for last.

“Annie.” Max spoke her name aloud, a chiding sigh. Talk about sins of omission. Nothing about Chloe's infatuation with Jake, nothing about Annie's efforts to find Chloe. Max paused, added to his notes:

Max nodded. The fact that Chloe and Jake were not in the gallery when Annie looked for Chloe emphasized the likelihood they'd gone together to the point. Or, if not together, slipped away to meet each other there. That made it less likely that someone else was present. “Although we can't forget Rusty Brandt and Beth Kelly. Why did Beth run?” Max murmured. He tapped his pen, scrawled:

Max raised an eyebrow. How the hell many people had been at the point? He slapped the folder shut and pushed back his chair, eager to be on his way. He was almost to the door when Billy's phone rang. Max hesitated for an instant, shrugged, reached the desk in two strides, and grabbed the receiver. “Broward's Rock Police. Darling speaking.”

“Max!” Annie's voice bubbled with surprise, pleasure, and delight. Then a gasp and a quick, “Listen, I've got to go. She's coming out to her car. I thought I had time to call and tell Billy. I'm going to follow her. She knows who killed him, I'm sure of it—” And the cell phone clicked off.

Max yelled, “Annie.” But it was too late.

 

Annie waited until the Camry flashed past. She hunkered behind the wheel of the Volvo, wished it weren't red. Had Elaine noticed her? Well, duh. She'd know the cars of the other residents. Maybe she wouldn't expect Annie to follow. Maybe she thought she was finished with Annie. The taillights of the Camry flashed briefly as the car turned right onto the dirt road leading to Sandspur Lane. Annie spurted in pursuit. She lagged back about thirty yards. Maybe Elaine would assume they were both going toward town. It was, after all, a small island.

If she could stay far enough behind, Elaine might not pay any attention. Wherever she went, it had to be connected with what she had seen from the kitchen window last night. The Camry turned onto Sand Dollar Road. Annie followed. The Camry surged forward. Annie pressed the accelerator. Forty, forty-five, fifty miles an hour. There wasn't any traffic, thanks to the island's January doldrums. But there could always be a wandering deer or a kid on a bike. Annie hunched over the wheel, her hands sweaty. She came around a curve. No sign of the tan coupe. On the right, a rustic wooden sign announced
BROWARD'S ROCK NATURE PRESERVE
. Dust boiled from the dirt road that plunged into the maritime forest of live oak, magnolia, and slash pine.

Annie slowed enough to make the turn into the preserve. The Volvo bucketed into deep shadows on the twisting, sandy lane. Annie drove as fast as she dared, braking occasionally to peer into offshoot lanes. There was no hint which road Elaine had taken. The preserve was a curlicue of paths that often intersected, sometimes doubled back, occasionally ended at a pond.

Annie reached the rookery, looked across winter-dull water at the rocky island, a haven for heron, wood
ibis, and snowy egrets. She rolled down her window, listened for the sound of a motor, heard the chirp and wail of the birds, the sough of the high pines, a rustle in a nearby shrub.

And nothing more. She yanked up her cell phone.

Max answered on the first ring. “Annie, who are you chasing?” He didn't pause for a breath and his voice was sharp with worry. “Don't go around following people in a murder case, for God's sake.”

“Elaine Hasty. Anyway, I lost her.” She blew out a puff of exasperation. “She was at the kitchen window at the gallery and she saw everybody who went to the point. But she won't say who she saw. Other than Chloe.”

He was silent.

“She saw somebody else,” Annie insisted. “I know she did. Anyway, Billy needs to know about her, and the police have to talk to her.”

“Okay.” He tried to soothe. “I'll see to it he gets a full report.” There was a pause, a reluctant, heavy pause. “Annie—”

She held tight to her cell phone. Whatever Max was going to say, she wasn't going to like.

“—I guess you haven't heard my message on your cell. Chloe didn't show up this morning. She's a fugitive and will be arrested as a material witness.”

“Oh.” Annie heard the rustle of the trees and the croon and chitter of the birds, lonely sounds. Where was Chloe? Where could she possibly be?

“Come on to Parotti's. I'll meet you for lunch. We'll see what we can come up with.” There was kindness in his voice.

Annie clicked off the phone. She drove slowly, dust fluttering around the car. Once out of the preserve, she
picked up speed and headed for the harbor. Chloe, a fugitive…Why had she run? There was nothing she could have done that would have made her predicament any worse.

Annie was almost to Parotti's parking lot when she braked and made a U-turn, then parked in front of an old two-story brick building a half block from the café. Gilt letters on the plate glass window proclaimed
HASTY'S GOURMET MEALS TO GO. CATERING. FINE FOODS FAST
. Light from the window spilled into the narrow yard. Annie hurried up the steps. A bell jangled as she stepped inside.

The glass of the display cases sparkled with cleanliness. Tony Hasty was pulling a dish from the case to her left. He looked up. Annie wished she had a freeze-frame of his initial expression. Had there been an instant of tenseness? Or had his rough-hewn face simply reflected its ordinary toughness?

“Hello, Tony.” She walked to the counter with the register.

He stared at her for a moment, then carried the dish to a table. His steps were heavy on the wooden floor. He came to the counter, wiping his huge hands on a cloth. “Yeah, Annie. What can I do for you? Got smoked tenderloin today. Oysters and rice. Jambalaya.”

“When you found the body”—she forced herself to meet his light eyes, the gaze remote and cold—“was that your second trip to the point?”

A scowl twisted his heavy face.

“Did you go down there after we talked to you? Did you find Jake? Were you—” Her words tumbled out faster and faster. She belatedly remembered that she was alone with Tony Hasty. In one great stride he could
swing around the end of the counter and grab her with hands big as the kitchen mitts slung on a worktable. “—mad at the way he was treating Elaine? Did you kill him?” She began to back toward the door.

He slapped his arms across his chest. “Oh, sure. In between moving dishes, being in and out of the kitchen, seeing those women dash by. Yeah, sure. Just a little extra I forgot to mention.” He gave a bark of angry laughter. “As for Elaine, she got what she deserved, panting after him, playing his game. I don't put up with men abusing women, but half the time women bring all the trouble on themselves. Elaine's just like her mother.” His eyes held pain. “I didn't say anything to the police about Elaine and him because that was over. He'd dropped her. He was going for the gold. I don't know what happened to him last night. And Elaine doesn't either.” He was emphatic. “Elaine was in the kitchen. I'd just come outside to the van right before that girl ran past and I can tell you that Elaine was at the sink. That girl ran past, then you and your husband came, then I was back in the kitchen and out again in time to see Beth Kelly. And Elaine was at the sink the whole damn time. You mark Elaine right off your list.”

Annie's tense muscles relaxed. There was nothing to fear from Tony Hasty. Billy and Max could check to be certain, but if his story was true and he was seen both by Annie and Max and by workers in the kitchen during that critical period, he could not have made an earlier trip to the point and found and killed Jake. Tony said she could mark off Elaine as a suspect. Well, she'd already done that. Now, as Elaine had insisted, Annie marked off her father.

But she wasn't finished. “Elaine's not a suspect. I know that. But she may be an important witness.”

A dull flush rose from his neck, turning his face dark as a peach pit. “Goddammit, you don't listen. I tell you, Elaine never left that kitchen. There's no damn way she could know anything about what happened at the point.”