Island of Secrets (9 page)

Suddenly D.J. grabbed Nancy by the shoulders. “Promise you won't tell anyone! You've got to promise!”

His powerful fingers dug into Nancy's flesh. “Let go of me!” she demanded.

“Promise!”

He towered over her, his eyes begging her. Nancy was moved by his pain at betraying his friend.

“All right,” she said calmly. “I won't tell anyone without your permission.”

D.J. let her go so suddenly that she staggered backward. He stalked across the room, stopped at an empty window frame and stared out, as if he were looking at a view instead of a blue plastic tarp.

For a moment neither of them said anything.

Finally D.J. turned to her. “I'm sorry if I hurt you.”

“It's okay. You were upset. When did Tom tell you he was blackmailing Scott?”

“He didn't, exactly.” D.J. began to pace. “One night about three weeks ago, I got mad and made him tell me where he was getting all his cash. He admitted it was blackmail, but he wouldn't say who was paying him. I put two and two together and figured out it was Scott.”

“Why Scott?” Nancy leaned against the wall, watching him.

“It's obvious. First, he's rich—he could afford it. No sense squeezing someone who hasn't got it. Second, like I said, they were together the night Tom disappeared.”

“Did they hang out together a lot?” Nancy asked.

“No, it was just the opposite.” D.J. continued pacing, his boots echoing hollowly in the empty room. “I don't like Mr. Rich Boy, but Tom liked him even less. There had to be a fishy reason for them to be together that night.”

“Scott told me it was coincidence,” Nancy said. “They just happened to go out at the same time.”

D.J. stopped pacing and stared at Nancy. “He's lying. Listen to me—Scott's as jumpy as a frog on a hot stone. He's hiding something; and it's something big—big enough to make him pay Tom to keep his mouth shut.”

“But you don't know what he's hiding?”

“No.” D.J. slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. “And there's another reason. The police asked me for the name and address of the guy who ran your moped off the road. I gave it to them, and was glad to. Hank was a troublemaker from his first day on the job. And you know who hired him from the mainland when one of my guys got sick?”

“Scott Winchester,” Nancy said.

“You got it.” D.J. nodded.

“Have you explained all this to the police?”

“Everything but the blackmail.” He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.

“Tom, you crazy fool! Why did you let yourself get into so much trouble? I tried to help you, you know I did! You stupid jerk!” D.J. covered his face with his hands. His shoulders began to shake.

After a moment Nancy went over and touched his back. D.J. pulled away, as if stung. “Go away. Leave me alone,” he muttered.

“I'm sorry, D.J., I really am.” Nancy left quietly, wishing she could do more to help him.

It was still pouring, the rain blowing almost sideways. As Nancy slowly rode back to the cottage, she went over D.J.'s reasons for believing Scott was guilty. She had begun to like Scott during their talk on the yacht, but she had to admit the circumstantial evidence was building against him. She had to find out what he was hiding.

Hannah had invited Sarah over for lunch, and after Nancy changed into dry clothes, she helped prepare crab salad and blackberry cobbler. A big pot of clam chowder was simmering on the back of the stove, and the kitchen smelled delicious. While they worked, Nancy filled Hannah in on the latest developments in the case, leaving out the blackmail information, as she'd promised D.J. she would.

“Hmmm,” Hannah said, mulling over what Nancy had told her. “Scott says one thing about Friday night, D.J. says another and claims Scott's lying. Which one do you believe, Nancy?”

“I'm not sure yet. I want to question Scott again, but I think it might be a good idea to talk to Angie first. She dated Scott for a long time and she must know him pretty well.”

Sarah arrived just then. She looked tired but she cheered up a bit when she passed around the pictures of her latest grandchild. During lunch she and Hannah talked about babies and quilting.

The doorbell rang just as Nancy served the coffee. When she opened the front door, she found Jim Hathaway on the porch, rainwater streaming off his slicker. “Hi,” he said. “I thought I'd stop by and give you the latest news—or lack of it.”

“Come in,” Nancy said. “You're just in time for dessert.”

“Thanks, anyway, but I've had lunch.” Jim took off his hat and shrugged out of his rain gear.

“Blackberry cobbler?” Nancy said, prodding.

“Well . . . I didn't eat all
that
much.” Jim grinned.

Nancy pulled another chair up to the table and gave Jim a huge portion.

Sarah let him enjoy the first few bites before she asked, “Have you been able to find out where that money came from?”

“I'm afraid not,” Jim said. “The bills are almost untraceable. They were all used, with assorted serial numbers. We've sent them off for fingerprinting, but it's unlikely much will turn up.”

Nancy nodded.

“There's still more bad news, Nancy.” Jim took a sip of coffee. “Hank Jenkins, your favorite hit-and-run driver, has disappeared. He never went home after taking the ferry. It seems that he's left town. We've put out bulletins, blanketing the airports and bus stations—but so far, no luck.”

“I'm not surprised,” Nancy said. “If he abandoned an almost-new motorcycle, he must have been paid plenty to get lost.”

“That's what we figure, but don't worry, we'll find him sooner or later.” Jim turned to Hannah. “This is the best cobbler I've ever tasted, Ms. Gruen. Did you make it yourself?”

Hannah smiled. “It's an old family recipe.”

Nancy had the feeling that he was deliberately changing the subject. “Jim, would you like more coffee?” she asked. “It's in the kitchen.”

“I'll come with you.” He flashed her a look of gratitude and stood up from the table.

Out in the kitchen, Nancy said, “Do you have more bad news that you didn't want Sarah to hear?”

“Yes.” Jim sighed. “We just got the lab results on the hammer you found in the pond. There's no trace of blood, hair, or any other sign that it was the murder weapon. Plus, the coroner says the lethal wound on the skull was caused by an irregular, sharp object larger than a hammer.”

“Does that mean D.J. is no longer your main suspect?” Nancy asked.

“Yes, although we haven't ruled him out.”

“I wonder how the hammer got in the pond,” Nancy mused. “Tom and his killer fought over it and one of them flung it away. I suppose there were no fingerprints on it?”

“Not after several days in the water.”

“A large, irregular, sharp object  . . .” Nancy tried to picture the scene around the grave—the pond and fields. “The rock wall! Of course!”

“That was my idea, too,” Jim said. “One of those stones could inflict a wound like Tom's.”

“Now I'm almost sorry I spotted the hammer,” Nancy said. “Maybe you'd have checked the wall sooner if you didn't think you'd already found the murder weapon.”

“If the murderer was smart, he took it with him. With all the rocks lying around this island, he could have dropped it anywhere and we'd never find it.” He shrugged. “I'd better get back to the station.”

They returned to the dining room. Jim said to Hannah, “Thank you for the cobbler. It was great.”

Nancy walked him to the door. If anything, the storm had grown worse. She could taste salt spray mixed with the rain that blew into her face.

After Jim left, she decided to run over and see if Angie was home. Although Angie and Scott were no longer dating, she could tell Nancy what kind of person he was. She might even know what secret Scott was hiding. Nancy grabbed her yellow slicker.

“Now
where are you off to?” Hannah asked.

She smiled. “Don't worry, I'm only going around the corner to Barb and Angie's place. I'll be back soon. 'Bye, Sarah, it was good to see you again.”

She slipped out the door and into the gale. Her sneakers were soaked in two seconds and her jeans were wringing wet by the time she walked the short distance to the girls' apartment.

When Nancy knocked, Angie opened her door only a crack. “I-I'm sorry, Nancy, Barb's not here and I'm really busy right now.”

“Can I come in for just a second? I need to talk
to you. It's important.” Nancy shivered as a gust of wind blew back the hood of her slicker and cold rainwater trickled down her neck.

Angie leaned out and peered behind Nancy, checking up and down the street. “Okay, but only a second. I-I'm getting ready for work.”

“Thanks.” Nancy stepped inside the cheerful apartment and took off her dripping jacket. “I had a long talk with D.J. this morning. He made some strong accusations against the guy you used to date. I'm hoping you can tell me a little bit about Scott—”

“Scott?”
Angie squealed. “Scott Winchester?”

“Yes, I know you broke up and I guess it was pretty painful for you, but—”

“I'm not going to tell you anything about him, not a thing!” Angie's face was rigid and pale. “If that's what you came for, please leave right now!”

“Gee, Angie, I'm sorry,” Nancy said. “I didn't mean to upset you. I—”

Someone knocked on the door. Angie whirled around and stared at it, frozen.

“Would you like me to answer it?” Nancy asked.

“No! Don't! You have to go!”

“All right, but the only way I can leave is through that door,” Nancy pointed out gently.

“Oh no, this is awful! I told him it was too risky! Why did I ever—”

The door opened. “Hey, Angie, what kind of wife keeps her husband waiting in the pouring . . .”

Scott Winchester's voice trailed off as he spotted Nancy. Silently he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

The silence grew as Nancy turned from Angie to Scott and back again. Finally she said, “Did I hear you correctly?”

Scott walked over to Angie and put his arm around her. “Yes, you did. This is my wife, Angelina Winchester.”

Y
OU'RE SECRETLY MARRIED
,” Nancy stated, amazed.

Her mind raced, absorbing the news. She had come hoping that Angie could give her information about her former boyfriend. Now she realized she'd been about to ask a wife to speak against her husband.

“No one knows about it, Nancy,” Angie said. “Please,
please
promise you won't tell anyone.”

Scott and Angie seemed to be so much in love, Nancy immediately said, “All right, I promise. But why is it a secret?”

Scott and Angie exchanged glances, then she said, “It's a long story. Why don't I make some hot chocolate and we'll explain.”

“That sounds good,” Nancy said. “But don't you have to go to work?”

Angie blushed. “That was just an excuse. I wanted you to leave before Scott got here.”

Nancy and Scott settled on cushions around the low table while Angie bustled around the tiny kitchenette. Nancy watched her pour milk in a pan and add cocoa. “I assume you faked the breakup so people wouldn't suspect you're actually married.”

“Well, sort of.” Angie hesitated.

“You don't have to tell me, you know,” Nancy said. “I'll still keep my promise.”

“To be honest,” Scott said, “it will be a relief to talk about it. We're so happy together, every time I open my mouth I want to blurt out the truth.”

“You silly . . .” Angie grinned at Scott.

Suddenly something occurred to Nancy. Was this the secret Scott had been hiding? Was Tom blackmailing him because he'd found out he was married? “Why
did
you pretend to break up then?” she asked.

“My father,” Scott said bitterly. He tugged at the collar of his sweater as if it were choking him. “He—disapproves of Angie and he'd be furious if he knew we were married. I took Angie home to meet him once. He immediately had her family investigated and decided she didn't come from the ‘proper' background.”

“But you told me her family was wonderful,” Nancy said.

“They are! Hardworking, warm, funny—just
great people.” Scott gazed at Angie with affection.

“Thanks,
cara mia
.” Angie left the pot on the stove and knelt down to hug him. “But they're immigrants,” she told Nancy. “Mama and Papa left Italy when they were teenagers and they speak with an accent.” Deep anger crept into her voice. “It doesn't matter to Congressman Walt Winchester that they built their own business from scratch—”

“They're not bluebloods,” Scott finished for her. “Walt Winchester's only child—only
son—
has to marry into a ‘good' family, definitely one with plenty of money and connections.”