Murder by the Seaside (19 page)

“Sheriff Murray says the men they caught are guilty of contaminating the national seashore, but it doesn’t make them killers. He says there’s no connection between the men he arrested and Brady McGee. Adrian was still the last one to argue with him before he died.”

But I knew that wasn’t true. Those dumpers were connected to Brady. He’d also argued with his girlfriend and possibly Perkins, too. Maybe he’d had a fight with his wife the night he died. The truth was, I didn’t have all the facts. Anything could’ve happened that night.

My head fell into my palms and my knees buckled. I sat on the couch beside Mrs. Davis and tried to see past the frustration. What had I missed?

Perkins. I needed to question Perkins again. He’d given us just enough information to get us off his trail. Smart. Maybe he wasn’t drunk or distraught. Maybe he was a cunning fox and I’d been duped. He probably packed up and fled the state the minute we left his house. My head throbbed.

I raised my eyes to meet hers. “I told you I’m not an investigator. I’m a counselor. Nothing more. I can’t fix this.”

She held a tissue out between us. The movement of her head was so small, I almost missed it. “No.” She righted herself, wiping her cat eyes with the pads of her thumbs and tugging the hem of her shirt down when she stood. “You can. If you want to. You always get what you go after. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I didn’t meet you yesterday, you know.”

I didn’t get everything I wanted. She knew that better than anyone.

She headed for my bedroom and I followed her dumbly. A myriad of rebuttals and complaints clogged my throat, not the least of which was
get the hell out of my room
. She surprised me when she pulled the closet door wide and stepped inside. Shoving aside half my wall, she took a set of dusty steps down to the art studio without looking back. I covered my mouth with my fingertips. Adrian Davis was a genius. I knew he made up that ghost story. I secured the woodwork behind her and closed my closet. On second thought, I dragged Sebastian’s bag out, shut the closet again and shoved my dresser in front of it. Dissatisfied, I left my room, locked the door and went to sleep in the living room, hoping Sebastian was right and no one would break into a room overlooking the street. Thankfully the stream of tourists made mine a busy street, at least until the pony swim ended. I had a week.

My mind whirled and hummed. Perkins had sent us on a goose chase, I was convinced. No man who loved money turned in his payday the way he did unless he had something much larger to cover up. Like two murders. A shiver sent goose bumps over my flesh. I needed to question Perkins again.

I sent Sebastian a quick text. “
Are you busy?
” If he really could read my mind, he’d know what my text really meant was “Are you too busy to cover me on my third excursion to question a killer?”

I counted to ten twice while staring at my phone. No response from Sebastian.

I yanked Claire’s pillow back over my eyes. If Perkins knew someone was on to him, he could flee with all the money he gained from his business venture. He’d get away with murder while Adrian sat in jail. I peeked at my phone from beneath the pillow.

“Answer me, Sebastian,” I told the phone. “This can’t wait.”

Nothing happened.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid phone. I groaned and righted myself. He’d respond soon. Sebastian wouldn’t ignore my text. If he didn’t text or call before I left the island, I’d try to reach him again before I knocked on Perkins’s door. Maybe he could meet me there.

What else could I do? Perkins had the answers I wanted.

Chapter Nineteen

It was time to check out what Sebastian had left for me in his bag.

I unlocked my bedroom door and peeked inside. The dresser still stood guard against the closet. I dragged Sebastian’s duffel onto the bed and unzipped it, hoping to find more than spare boots and underpants.

“Good grief.” He left me the mother lode of equipment. Night vision goggles, a stun gun, a burner phone, Mace, handcuffs and a knife I nearly cut my finger off with while removing it from the sheath. Wow. I set that back in the bag. I thumbed through the clothes in the bottom. He had a spare change of all-black essentials from socks to his undershirt. Beneath those was exactly what I needed. I hefted an enormous flashlight in one hand, feeling the weight against my palm. Now this was a weapon I could use. I stowed the weighty Maglite inside my favorite hobo.

The drive to Perkins’s house passed in a blur. I lost my nerve after turning onto his street and parked a couple blocks away against the curb, hoping a quick pep talk was all I needed. Facing him alone stole my breath, and for a moment I considered turning back. I needed backup.

My thumbs danced over the screen of the “spare” phone Sebastian had “borrowed” from his office.

“Special Agent Sebastian Clark is unavailable.” He wasn’t at his desk. With all the hoopla going on, I kind of hoped he was safely in his office filing reports or getting his story straight. If he needed to get his story straight. I wouldn’t know. He didn’t talk to me.

I huffed my way off that bunny trail and disconnected without leaving a message. I tried him again. This time, I dialed the phone he carried with him.

“This is Sebastian Clark—”

“Sebastian.” I looked heavenward and blurted out my predicament over his voice. “I’m so glad I caught you. Listen, I’m on the mainland and I need to talk with Perkins again, but I can’t stop thinking he’s the killer and I don’t want him to kill me. Can you meet me on his street and maybe we can talk to him again together?

Beep.

I pulled the phone around and stared at the screen. I was so far gone I didn’t notice it was a recording? And now I’d left a desperate message on his voice mail. My heart pounded with embarrassment and worry for my mental health. This whole nightmare had gone too far. I shoved the keys into my pocket and jumped out of the love bus before I turned tail for home. Determination to complete my mission shoved me forward. I marched along the sidewalk, running through a few possible conversation tracks. Perkins seemed to think women were stupid, so I decided to work that angle.

I took a deep breath, knocked on the door and waited. A dog barked once in the distance. No answer. No car in the drive. Maybe he’d skipped town. I peeked through a window. His coffee table was overturned and couple bottles of booze lay busted on the floor. Uh-oh. Either Perkins had a temper or I was wrong about him. If he wasn’t the killer, it made sense that Perkins would be next. He knew about the payoffs and the dumping. I went around to the back door, peeking in windows, terrified of what I might find. A privacy fence separated his yard from the neighbors.

Something thumped inside as I edged along the side of his house. I stopped short. The back door stood open several inches. What if Perkins was inside with a suicide note like Mrs. McGee? A flicker of determination hit, stronger this time than before. I dialed 911 and hovered my thumb over the screen ready to call an ambulance.

I pulled the door wide and waited. Silence. Wishing I had a crystal to rub or some sage to burn, I stepped across the threshold and listened.

“Hello? Perkins? Everything okay?”

The sound started above me and grew in the span of a few heartbeats. I recognized it at once, then as if to confirm, I tripped over a water dish labeled “Killer.” Toenails over hardwood scrambled down the stairs into the foyer. Oh my sweet stars. I dashed toward the back door, planning to dive out headfirst when I realized I’d pulled it shut behind me on the way in. A mammoth black Doberman slid around the corner, blocking my path. Frozen, I eased my backside onto the countertop. He edged toward me, growling low and fierce.

I searched the marble behind me and spotted a package of pepperoni rolls. I grabbed the package and jerked to my feet on the countertop. “Good doggy. Nice Killer.” I braced one palm flat against the cupboard. He sat. A tongue the size of my head licked his chops, as I slid my hand into the bag and ripped a hunk of one roll off with my trembling thumb and first finger.

I threw the chunk of one roll as far from me as possible. It landed in front of the back door. Terrible plan. The front door was in sight. I had a straight line from the kitchen, through the hall and outside to freedom, but Killer was back watching me. The growling had stopped, but his lips hitched in warning. The expression said, “No sudden moves and hand over the food.” I grabbed a full roll this time and tossed it against the window. He went for it and so did I.

I launched myself from the counter and barreled down the hallway to the front door. Flipping the dead bolt with one swift movement, I watched in horror as Perkins’s shiny black car pulled into the drive before me. Killer closed in on my heels with a quick
woof!
No going forward. No going back. I swore loudly when the car door slammed outside.

Killer barked again, and I threw the whole bag of rolls at him, hitting him square in the face. He caught the bag and shook it hard in his iron jaws. Ice slid over me at the idea I might be the next snack for Killer to gnaw on. I took the stairs two at a time as the front door swung open.

Perkins immediately laid into Killer for stealing food from the counter. A loud yip sounded, and I dashed into the first open doorway, heading straight to the window. Perkins screamed and yelled like a lunatic over the pepperoni rolls. He had definite stress, a probable drinking problem and could use a little anger management. I should’ve left him my card during one of our visits.

I climbed onto the roof without hesitation. The drop below was at least ten feet. I eased the window shut and climbed up instead, hoping to find another piece of roof angled lower to the ground.

On the next patch of roof there were two options. I could climb off onto the front porch roof and down to safety or attempt to shimmy around the chimney onto the roof covering the porch where I broke in. Option two won by a long shot until the tirade downstairs ended with Killer being thrown out into the backyard.

Forget the Maglite. I needed to carry Prozac if this was my new life.

Careful not to be seen by anyone driving by, or Killer in the backyard, I pressed myself to the hot shingled roof. The sun beat down on me, drying my mouth and forming a throb behind my eyes. I had my phone but didn’t want to call anyone. Killer would hear my voice, bark and give me away, or maybe get another beating. Perkins was a mess. I could text, but whom? Who could I tell that I’d broken into the home of a man I believed was a killer, then, worried said man had been attacked by the real killer, was chased by his dog, Killer, and was currently hiding on his roof? No one.

Really, what could anyone do?

My parents were understanding enough to take it in stride and burn sage over me later, but I had their car. Sebastian was dealing with his own life-or-death problems and not available anyway or he would’ve responded to my insane voice mail. Plus, he was supposed to uphold laws, not cover for me when I broke some. Claire was at work and hours away from me without the freedom to come and go that Sebastian had. I rolled onto my tummy, and waited for a stroke of brilliance that didn’t come.

I woke to the sound of a ringing phone and reached for my pocket. It wasn’t me. Groggy from so many sleepless nights, I moaned and nearly rolled off the roof. Eep! My feet scrambled for purchase, knocking a few loose shingles into the gutter. Killer barked and I flinched. Every inch of my skin screamed from sunburn. The front of me baked against the hot shingles while my back took the brunt of the sun, which had settled low in the horizon.

I checked my phone for the time. Almost seven. I’d slept for four hours in the hot summer sun without sunblock. My cheeks hurt. One was pocked and speckled with tiny gravel from the shingle it had melded to all day. The other was probably the proud owner of a second-degree burn.

“Because I had to do something,” Perkins snarled nearby. He’d wandered into the room below me. “What would you have had me do, huh?...Well that’s what I did...That’s your problem. I’m out.” He screamed a slew of f-words intermingled with “I’m out” a dozen more times, then began breaking things inside his house again.

Out?
What did that mean? I strained to hear more, but based on the amount of damage occurring inside, I guessed he’d ended the call. The number of possible scenarios plucked my curiosity to insanity level. I should’ve found a way to tap his line.

A door slammed, then another, and an engine roared to life. I dared a peek over the porch eave. His car swung out of his driveway, and the tires barked as he tore down the street. My mind screamed at my limbs to work. I had to get away before he got back. My skin felt tight enough to split open as I eased my foot onto the ledge near the chimney. I hugged the stone chimney-face as if I wanted to marry it and didn’t look down. On the other side of the chimney was the covered porch, a short drop to the ground and a two-minute sprint to the love bus. My phone rang in my pocket, and I froze midair, straddling the chimney. I had no hands to answer the call. As it continued to ring I worried neighbors would find me there, clinging to the house.

Grrrrruff!
Grrrrruff!
A familiar snarl sounded from the ground beneath me. I mashed my eyes shut. My luck sucked eggs. I inched back to where I came from. His barking grew louder and more consistent until neighbors began to scream at him to shut up. I crushed my face back against the shingles, hoping not to be noticed. As if a bright red woman could be camouflaged against the stark black roof. Killer clawed and crooned at the siding beneath me for an eternity. Night fell before I dared move again.

When the streetlights flickered on, I slid over the eave onto the front porch roof. The street was quiet. One leg at a time, I swung down, placing each foot gingerly on the porch railing beneath me. I jumped to the grass and swallowed a scream as my sunburn flared at the stretch of skin. I didn’t look back as I ran for the bus, cursing myself for parking so far away.

I dove onto the driver’s seat and checked my phone. Headlights swept along the side of the love bus, and I ducked on instinct. Perkins’s car crawled past. The look on his face was grim. He parked in his drive and an enormous SUV pulled in behind him. I swung the love bus away from the curb and into a U-turn without looking back.

Claire had sent several texts. I called and spilled the entire story to her before she could say hello. Delirium hit when I crossed the bridge back to the island. I finished the story laughing and crying interchangeably. Claire, for the most part, was silent.

“Does Sebastian know what you were up to?”

“I don’t know. I left him a voice mail before I knocked on the door, but he never called back.”

She groaned. “Today he had to drive to Williamsburg and give a deposition. He tried everything to get out of it, but they insisted. I don’t know if he’s getting back tonight or not. Either way, you need to stay put.”

“Oh.” Relief ran over me. I wasn’t ready to tell Sebastian all I’d told Claire. He had his own life to worry about. If I could find Brady’s killer without him, that would be better. Maybe afterward I could help Sebastian with his situation.

I parked outside Fine’s Pharmacy, hoping they were still open. Lucky me. They were. As I walked in, Sam Fines stood at the counter, smiling.

“When will you be back?” I asked Claire.

She huffed. “I planned on coming out today but you never answered your phone. Now I’m not sure. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Hello, Patience.” Sam waved.

“Let me call you later.” I disconnected and smiled at Sam with the unroasted half of my mouth.

“That is some sunburn you have there. What happened? You look like one of those sports fans who paints half their face red.”

“What’s the fastest way to heal it?”

“Cool compresses, aloe, maybe something topical to cut the sting.” He searched the white racks behind the counter. “Try this. If blisters form or red lines run through it, call your doctor. You could have sun poisoning.”

“Okay.” What I meant was
no way.
I no longer had health insurance.

“With a burn like that you’re likely dehydrated. Expect some headaches, dizziness and nausea. Possibly diarrhea.”

“Thanks.” I shuffled into the aisle and collected Tylenol, Pepto and a gallon of water. Sam met me in the aisle with a bag.

“When this settles down—” he motioned to my skin, “—are we on for golf?” He enunciated the last word.

“Yes.” I wanted to do a dramatic, stage-wink back at him but refrained. “Golf sounds nice.”

“Then consider this on the house.” He placed everything except the gallon jug inside the bag and lifted a hand to pat my shoulder. He cringed and dropped it back to his side. “Remember, call the doctor if the symptoms are too strong tomorrow.”

“Yep.”

I shoved my way out into the night and threw up on the sidewalk.

My parents brought over every remedy they could think of when news of my sunburn reached them. Sebastian got in late and knocked on the bathroom door. I sat in the tub, steeping my body in a tepid bath of tea leaves and other mystical whatnot. I dried with care and slid into a cotton nightgown.

Sebastian filled me with Tylenol and kept my water glass full while conducting an inquisition of my every move and narrowing his eyes with my every answer. He didn’t love the voice mail I’d left him.

“Don’t confront anyone alone again. No one. If I’m busy, I’ll haul you with me first, then we’ll do your thing together. You are not to go alone.”

I wanted to jump and scream about being a grown-ass woman, but half my face hurt too much for screaming and half my body hurt too much for jumping. Who was I kidding? I was a mess and had no one to blame but me.