Death Comes Silently (33 page)

“Attention.” Annie beamed at her husband and the stocky police sergeant. “The mayor has a news conference scheduled at four o’clock. He’ll want to look good, right? Here’s what we can do.” She talked fast.

When she finished, Max gave a fist pump. “It’s a great idea. But Annie and I can’t make the pitch. Cosgrove loathes both of us.”

Annie looked thoughtful. “Laurel?” Men from nine to ninety responded to her beauty and charm.

Max slowly shook his head. “He knows she’s my mother.”

Annie was reluctant to pass over Laurel. But Max was probably right. “Okay, we need someone with a strong personality who is well known on the island, preferably rich. Cosgrove loves rich. Someone who is impossible to divert once started. A friend of Billy’s… Oh, yes. Yes!” She reached for her cell. “The mayor won’t know what hit him.”

B
lue sky and a balmy afternoon reminded Annie anew why a South Carolina barrier island was undoubtedly the most glorious place in the universe to live. The morning’s fog and chill were just a memory. She nosed the Thunderbird into a parking slot a couple of blocks from the station. Cars lined the curbs on either side of the station. The lot at the park across the street was full. She picked up oversized sunglasses, slipped them on, and turned to Max. “Would you recognize me?” She wore a straw hat from last spring with daffodil yellow ribbons tied beneath her chin.

Max grinned. “Sweetie, I’d know you in a burlap bag. Especially a short burlap bag.”

She laughed. “Would the mayor recognize me?”

He tilted his head. “Most men—”

“Max.” Her tone was warning.

His gaze was innocent. “If you want a primer on what men look for, I’m your guy. Actually, Cosgrove will only have eyes for the TV camera, so you’re probably safe enough. How about me?” He tapped the brim of his baseball cap. A paint-splashed blue cotton shirt hung untucked over age white jeans. He’d burrowed in the hall closet and found an old pair of cowboy boots.

“No one should pay any attention to us.” She glanced at her watch. “Five minutes to four.” She felt a flutter of anxiety. Everything was set in motion, but she and Max had to remain in the background. She gave him a jaunty salute. “Let’s go.”

A
half dozen TV cameras ranged in front of the police station. Annie thought it likely that news crews had arrived on the ferry from as far away as Savannah and Charleston. Lou Pirelli had sent out bulletins to all the coastal stations, alerting them that the solution
to a triple murder would be announced at the mayor’s four o’clock news conference on the front steps of the Broward’s Rock police station.

The front door opened at precisely four o’clock. By this time a crowd of perhaps fifty had gathered, including many downtown shop owners who had put out Back Soon signs, boat captains with no charters that foggy morning, retirees glad for a break from dominos, and high school students attracted by the television crews. Annie and Max stood behind a group of twittering girls.

Mayor Cosgrove, natty in a gray pinstripe, lavender shirt, and yellow tie, bustled outside. Lou Pirelli, freshly shaved, his curly dark hair neatly brushed, looked impressively muscular in his crisp khaki uniform. His eyes skittered around the crowd. He saw Annie, made a quick thumbs-up.

Annie grabbed Max’s arm. “Everything’s set.”

Cosgrove cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen.” He lifted his rounded face, beamed at the cameras. “I am pleased to announce—”

A horn powerful as a sub’s klaxon boomed as a maroon Rolls Royce slid to a stop in the middle of the street. A chauffeur in matching purple livery came from the driver’s side to open the rear door.

Emma Clyde, bristly hair bright silver today, stepped out. Her lavender caftan with dashes of gold swirled as she swept toward the front door. Stubby fingers clutched four rolls of parchment. She nodded regally in passing as the crowd drew back, affording her passage.

The TV cameras swung toward her.

The mayor’s face drew down in a petulant frown. “Here now…” His voice was drowned out by rising murmur from the onlookers.

“Mayor Cosgrove.” Emma might have been greeting a royal personage. She reached the end of the walk. Without hesitation, she
climbed the steps, turned to face the cameras, standing beside him. In her eye-catching dress, her square face serene and imperious, she was the focus of every gaze.

“Excuse me,” the mayor sputtered.

Emma held up a stubby hand and a ruby ring glittered in the sunlight. “Your Honor, it is my pleasure as the director of the Broward’s Rock Good Government League to present you with a special award to recognize your achievement and that of Broward Rock’s exemplary police chief, Billy Cameron—” She paused, lifted her head, looked around. “Chief Cameron? We need Chief Cameron.”

Billy Cameron, in the navy suit that he wore to funerals, walked forward. Big and impressive, his broad face looked hesitant.

The mayor stared in shock.

Emma turned toward Cosgrove, her blue eyes steely though her face formed in a smile. “Don’t be modest, Mayor Cosgrove. Your accomplishment for the island of Broward’s Rock shall stand through the years, a moment marked by triumph. Now, now, now, let me finish. As one of the myriad voters—”

Cosgrove stiffened, his plump face abruptly intent.

“—on our lovely island, I hope you will enjoy your moment in the sun. And”—she gestured toward Billy—“come up here, Chief Cameron. Without your excellent work behind the scenes, justice could not have triumphed.”

Once again she faced the cameras, a big woman with an aura of command. “The League wishes to thank Mayor Cosgrove and Chief Cameron for today’s apprehension of Bradley Milton, a suspect in the murders of island residents Everett Hathaway, Gretchen Burkholt, and Maggie Knight.” Emma unrolled one of the parchments, held it up to obscure the amazement on the face of the porcine mayor. “Whereas, Mayor Cosgrove cooperated with Chief Cameron in
a plan to convince Bradley Milton that the police thought another suspect guilty, thereby making it possible for investigation to proceed sub rosa, the League presents a certificate of honor to Mayor Cosgrove.” She thrust the certificate at him.

Cosgrove’s lips made guppy movements. The color of his face rivaled an island sunset.

Emma faced the cameras. “Our mayor is overcome by modesty. But that is what we would expect. Always, his first thought is to do what is right for the community. Moreover, he is eager for Chief Cameron to receive his certificate.” She nodded at Billy, whose face held an interesting mixture of amazement and incredulity. “Our chief is also a modest public servant.” She cleared her throat, unrolled the second parchment. “Whereas Chief Cameron cooperated in pretending that he had been relieved of his command and thereby made it possible for Sgt. Hyla Harrison to pursue her inquiries, which led to the capture of a dangerous criminal, this certificate of honor shall be presented by the mayor as he officially reinstates Chief Cameron to his position. Now, Mayor Cosgrove, repeat after me. I, Mayor Cosgrove, take great pleasure—”

Cosgrove’s eyes flickered toward the cameras and the excited audience. “I, Mayor Cosgrove, take great pleasure—”

“—in publicly reinstating Chief of Police Billy Cameron to his post—”

Cosgrove hesitated for a fraction until he saw Emma’s steely gaze. “—in publicly reinstating Chief of Police Billy Cameron to his post—”

Emma nodded in satisfaction. “—and personally presenting this glorious certificate of honor to Chief Cameron.” Ceremoniously she handed the certificate to the mayor.

The mayor took the parchment and thrust it at Billy.

“Thank you, Mayor Cosgrove and Chief Cameron.” Emma held
up the third roll. “It is also a pleasure to recognize Jeremiah Young, who exhibited great personal courage when he summoned help and saved island resident Henny Brawley from a murderous assault. Moreover, Jeremiah endured false arrest, making it possible for the investigation to successfully capture Bradley Milton. The mayor’s office will”—she turned to the mayor and spoke emphatically—“submit papers requesting that Jeremiah be granted a pardon, erasing his previous conviction for a car theft. Jeremiah Young and Henny Brawley?”

Without a do-rag and freshly shaved, Jeremiah moved hesitantly forward, the TV cameras turning toward him. He walked slowly, a hand on Henny’s elbow as she used her cane to limp toward the steps. Henny took the scroll from Emma and tucked it in Jeremiah’s hand, then turned to the cameras. “Jeremiah saved my life. Jeremiah is not only brave and kind, he is dependable and a hard worker. His ambition is to open a repair store, and we know island residents will welcome him into the business community. Thank you.”

Emma nodded agreement. “Finally, it is a great honor for the League to recognize the bravery of Sgt. Hyla Harrison, who saved island resident Annie Darling from an attack by Bradley Milton. Sergeant Harrison was subsequently injured while subduing the suspect. Sergeant Harrison?”

Hyla Harrison approached reluctantly. As always, her uniform was immaculate, but her right arm was in a sling. Her thin face was pink with embarrassment. She stopped at the foot of the steps, looked up at Billy.

Emma handed the fourth scroll to Billy. “As police chief, it is appropriate that you shall present the certificate.” She smiled at Cosgrove. “Isn’t that right, Your Honor?”

The mayor managed a smile. “Absolutely. Proper channels and all that.”

Billy stepped toward Hyla. “Good work, Sergeant Harrison.”

Hyla took the parchment and fled into the crowd, her cheeks bright red.

Billy addressed the cameras. “Sergeant Harrison is an outstanding police officer who follows procedure. The evidence she found in an abandoned boat, a paint streak that links a bicycle to a homicide and several fibers, which match a jacket belonging to the accused Bradley Milton, came as a result of her exceedingly thorough investigation. Thank you, Sergeant.”

Emma was like a big cat with a cornered mouse as she beamed at Cosgrove. “Now, Your Honor, some pictures with you and our chief of police…”

I
t was after hours at Death on Demand. Max turned the cork in a magnum of champagne.

Emma sat at the center table in the coffee area. Tonight’s caftan was an improbable swirl of yellow, red, and purple. She accepted her flute with a gracious nod.

“Emma, you were wonderful.” Annie lifted a glass.

Max’s hand rose. “Magnificent.”

Emma’s square face was receptive.

Annie squashed the uncharitable thought that Emma was as hungry for applause as the mayor. But Emma had taken time from her writing—she was only a chapter from the end of the manuscript, a time of intense and harried effort when nothing short of a cataclysm could draw her from her computer—to win back Billy’s job, and that was as generous a move as she could ever make. “Emma, you’re the best.”

Emma nodded in agreement, her sapphire blue eyes approving.

Henny burbled with laughter. “I loved the way the mayor had to shake hands with Billy and pose for pictures between Billy and Hyla.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “The only downer is you can bet he’ll use those shots in his next campaign.”

“Oh well.” Annie was feeling generous. “What matters is Billy. And Jeremiah.” She raised the glass. “To Emma. To Billy. To Jeremiah. To Hyla—”

Voices joined in a chorus. “—to Henny. To Annie. To Max. To Handler.”

Flutes were upended.

The phone rang.

Annie checked caller ID. She answered, clicking on the speaker phone. “Hey, Hyla.”

“I did a little more checking.” The officer’s voice was matter-of-fact.

Annie raised an eyebrow. “Checking?”

Hyla cleared her throat. “You were convinced that Leslie Hathaway was guilty because you thought she went out on her bike that Tuesday night.”

“She didn’t take her car.” Annie felt defensive. She’d put herself and Hyla in grave danger because she had been sure of Leslie’s guilt. “And we were hunting for a killer who arrived without making any noise and that bike definitely had fresh mud on it.”