Engaged to Die (21 page)

Annie felt a rush of relief. There was time for someone else to have come and gone. If only Billy could be persuaded to consider—

Her cell phone bleated.

Annie's answer was breathless and hopeful. “Hello.”

“Annie.” Chloe's voice sounded faint and faraway. The connection crackled with static.

“Chloe. Thank God.” Annie felt such a rush of relief she realized she'd been afraid, very afraid, for Chloe.

“Chloe, please, you have to come to the police station. I'll meet you there. We'll get you a lawyer—”

“No.” Chloe's voice quivered with fear.

Annie held tight to the receiver. The rumble and wash of the sea slapping against the boulders, the caw of a crow, the rustle of palmetto fronds, lonely sounds all, but loneliest of all was Chloe's plaintive cry.

“Chloe, listen.” Annie was brisk. She spoke with slow and careful deliberation, each word firm and distinct. “I know you didn't kill Jake. I know you weren't the only person who went to the point. Elaine Hasty—she's part of the catering staff—was standing at the kitchen window, and she saw you and Jake and someone else.”

“Someone else? She saw someone else? Oh, Annie, have the police talked to that person?” The words were feverish. “Who is it? What did they say? Someone else—I didn't see anyone when I left him. I was on that path that comes out near the house.”

“I'm standing on it right now.” Annie looked up the path until it curved behind the pines.

“You are?” There was a note of puzzlement. “Why are you there?”

“For you, Chloe.” Chloe had doubted Annie's friendship. Annie hoped now she would believe again that she had a friend she could rely on. “I'm trying to figure out what happened. You can help. Tell me precisely what you did last night, every step of the way. Start with talking to Jake in the study.”

“Oh, Annie, when I first saw him in the entry hall I thought it was a dream come true. Oh, God, I was so happy. But almost at once I knew something was wrong.” She sounded forlorn. “He hurried me into the study. I still thought that it was like magic, that I'd put on my prettiest dress and he was there at the party for me. But right from the start everything was wrong. He looked upset. He whispered that he had to speak to me privately and I should go down to the point, that we could be alone there. He showed me the path out the window and said to walk down there and he'd come in a few minutes. I left the study and found my way out.”
There was a pause, then quickly. “I pushed the wrong door and stepped into the kitchen. This girl who was at the sink—”

Annie nodded. “Elaine Hasty.”

“—turned around and glared at me, like why was I coming in there. I backed out and went on down the hall and found the back door. I stopped when I was out of sight of the house, it was so dark and foggy. I was scared, but after a few minutes I kept on. He'd told me he'd be there in a little while. I waited for him on that bricked pavement. It was probably only a couple of minutes, but it seemed a long time before he came. When he got there, he took me by the elbow and led me to some wooden steps that went down to this platform above the water.”

Annie looked around, decided there was no one near. She ducked under the police tape. She stayed away from the outline of Jake's body and moved to the stairway. She walked down the steps and out on the platform, the stiff onshore breeze fluffing her hair and tugging at her clothes. The smell of the sea was sharp and fresh. In daylight, the prospect was clear though bleak and wintry, flotsam beached above the tide line, old logs and tangles of seaweed and occasional shattered planks from sunken ships.

“I heard the waves splashing against the rocks and the pilings, but I couldn't see anything because of the fog. There was only a kind of soft orange glow from the light up above. That's when he told me that the party was for him and Mrs. Neville. He said he was going to marry her. He kept on talking, but I didn't hear anything. There was a roar in my head—”

Annie was thinking fast. Last night the fog had turned this small platform into a hidden cocoon. Annie
turned back, climbed the steps to the shore. She looked at a clump of palmettos near the steps. Anyone could have stood there, hidden from view, and heard every word spoken on the platform.

“—and he reached out and touched my arm and said he was sorry. Sorry! I asked him how he could marry someone he didn't love. He told me she was nice and they had fun together and she could make all the difference in his career. He said he wished it could be different. I screamed at him, screamed that he was going to marry her and he didn't care about her and I hated him. Then I turned around and hurried up the steps. He grabbed at me and caught my stole. I ran across the bricks to the path. He called out for me, yelled that he loved me. But I kept on running.”

Annie glanced at the outline of the body. Yes, the hands had been outflung toward the path. Jake O'Neill was struck down as he hurried after Chloe. Annie made a fist, shook it in satisfaction. Another point in Chloe's favor. She pushed away the thought that Billy would insist that Jake left first and Chloe followed, angry at being spurned, determined he shouldn't return to the gallery and Virginia Neville.

Annie worked it out. If Jake was killed as he called out for Chloe, the murderer was there, waiting, ready. That precluded Tony Hasty as his attacker. Annie looked toward the ruins and the thicket of cane and the pines that shaded the remnants of the fort. “Chloe, did you hear anything when you came up the steps from the platform?”

A long-drawn breath. “I don't know.” Her voice was uncertain. “What difference does it make?”

“Don't you see? Whoever killed him may have been hidden nearby. When you left and Jake came after you,
that's when the murderer probably attacked him.” Annie willed Chloe to remember. “Think. Was there anything you heard or saw? Anything at all?”

The connection crackled, buzzed. It was a long moment before she answered, and then her voice was uncertain. “There might have been a rustling sound when I came up the steps. I looked around. But it was so dark and foggy, I didn't see anything. I guess I thought maybe someone was near or I wouldn't have looked. I'm not sure. Anyway, I stopped just for an instant, then I heard him coming up the steps and I ran. He shouted. My shoes slapped on the bricks. I reached the path and the oyster shells hurt my feet through the soles of my shoes, but I didn't slow down. I came around those big pines and suddenly there were the lights of the gallery. I didn't want to see anybody. I couldn't stay there. I didn't ever want to see him again. Or that woman he was going to marry. I took a path that came out in a parking lot and some man yelled at me—”

“Was he standing by a white van?” This was corroboration for Tony Hasty.

“He was in the parking lot.” Her tone was vague. “I didn't want to talk to anybody. I was crying.” Her voice was hard to hear. “When he yelled, I ran faster. I got to the road in front of the house and found my car. I drove around for a long time. Finally, I went back to Aunt Frances's house. When I got to my room, I took off my dress. I hated it.” Her voice quivered. “I rolled it up and threw it in the corner. But I didn't want it near me. I put on my jeans and a sweater and went to the pier and threw the dress away. Then I just sat there in the fog. When you came, I thought maybe he'd come after me. Oh, Annie, why did someone kill him?”

Annie thought about Jake's plan to marry Virginia Neville. There were those who would not want that marriage to occur. But there was no proof. Not yet. “I don't know, Chloe. But if we keep looking”—she thought about Rusty's jacket—“we may find out why. Listen, you said you might have heard a rustling sound.” Annie looked out at the wind-stirred water, whitecaps rippling as far as the eye could see. The cane rustled. The pines trembled.

Slowly she turned toward the cane. “You heard a rustle. Maybe someone hurried to get behind the cane.” Annie's shoes scuffed on the bricks as she crossed to the cane. She reached out, touched a stalk. “I think it's obvious. You came down to the point.” Annie rattled the cane. “Jake came.” She shook the cane. “Someone followed Jake.” A third time she rustled the cane. “That's the way it had to be.” Her hand fell away.

For the first time, Chloe's voice was eager. “The girl at the window—Elaine Hasty? Who did she see?”

“That's the problem.” Annie remembered Elaine's taunting gaze. “She won't say. But I've told the police. They'll find out.”

“She won't say?” Chloe's voice rose. “Why not? Doesn't she understand? Annie, the police think I killed him. She's got to tell them who she saw.” The words tumbled out, gathering momentum like rocks in a landslide. “Maybe if I call her, explain that I'm in trouble—”

“No. That won't help.” Annie stopped, knew her tone was too sharp.

Silence. Then a ragged laugh. “Was she another of his girls?”

Annie was silent. The silence grew and lengthened until it was as heavy as a pall.

Chloe gave a brittle laugh. “I see. Oh, God, I was such a fool. She hates me, doesn't she? Because of him. Annie”—the cry was deep and urgent—“what am I going to do?”

“You're going to be all right.” Annie wished she believed what she was saying. But Chloe could be cleared if Elaine Hasty told what she knew. At the very least, Chloe would not be the only suspect. “We'll get a lawyer, that young man who came to the store.” Annie felt a surge of well-being. It was time to fight back, marshal what they knew, prod Billy to widen his investigation. “Meet me at the police station.”

“They'll lock me up.” Chloe's voice was high and thin, horror paring the sound to a faint, faraway cry of despair. “I'd rather die.” A gasping struggle for breath bubbled over the telephone.

“Hold up.” Annie's voice was loud. “Chloe, what's wrong? No one will hurt you. I know Billy Cameron. He won't hurt you. His wife, Mavis, will be there—”

“Jail…” Chloe was sobbing now. “They'll shut me into a cell. I can't get out. It will be like the door.” The words were thin, full of pain. “The door wouldn't open and I cried and cried and cried….”

Annie paced toward the edge of the bluff, looked out at the white-flecked water. “What door?” Her voice was gentle. “Chloe, tell me.”

The words were interspersed with sobs and quick breaths. “…had to stay with her…Mother was sick…I don't know what I did…I don't remember…she locked me in the closet…and I cried and cried….”

“Who locked you in a closet? How old were you?” Despite the cold brisk wind, Annie felt hot and sick.

“I don't know…maybe five…. Aunt Frances…”
Chloe drew a long, ragged breath. “Don't you see, Annie? I can't bear to be locked in. I'd rather die. Maybe that's what I'll do. The water's there. I can see it. I'll walk out—”

Annie held tight to the receiver. “Chloe, stop that. Promise me you'll stay wherever you are. I'll talk to Billy. There's a way. You can wear a transmitter that will prove where you are.” Annie had seen one once at a forensic demonstration, a wristband that reminded her of Dick Tracy comic strips. “Billy's reasonable.” Oh, God, surely he would be. Surely Annie could make him understand. “I'll promise Billy that you will stay with us. You've got to be calm. Don't say things like that. You won't have to be locked up. I promise.” Promises, promises…

“I won't?” Chloe sounded like a child, hoping, trusting.

“You won't. I'll take care of everything.” Annie looked at her watch. “Call me at five.”

Annie clicked off the phone. Five o'clock. She had less than two hours to work a miracle. All right, dammit. Billy had to listen to reason about jailing Chloe. And he had to make interrogating Elaine Hasty a priority.

A noise that differed from the susurrant sound of the wind cut through Annie's whirling thoughts. She stood still and stiff, her eyes wide. Behind her, over the rustle of the cane and the soughing of the pines and the slap of the waves, she heard footsteps on the bricks. Someone was walking toward her on this isolated, remote spit of land where a man had died, his skull crushed by an attack from behind.

I'
M TIRED OF
being screwed over.” A sullen scowl soured Billy's usually genial face. “I'm telling you, Max, Annie's gone too far this time.” He picked up a tan folder, slammed it against the desktop. “She's interfering with an investigation.”

Max kept his voice easy and pleasant. “Billy, the minute she got this information—and you have to admit this is important—she called you.”

Billy shook his head. “I haven't talked to Annie.”

“She called here.” Max pointed at the phone on Billy's desk. “You were out looking for Chloe Martin. Mavis said I could use your desk. That's the only reason I happened to answer. Annie called for you.” Max once again emphasized the pronoun. “She went out to Nightingale Courts because she was worried about O'Neill's dog.” Billy loved dogs and had three: Gus, an old yellow Lab; Boy, a shepherd-collie mix; and Millie, an agreeable dachshund who was a lady to the tips of her toes. “Turns out Pirelli had already gotten the dog, but Annie talked to Duane and found out this girl—Elaine Hasty—lived next door to O'Neill and they'd had a fight. This is Tony Hasty's daughter, and she was right on the spot last night with the catering crew. Elaine had a box seat at the kitchen window, and
I don't think she missed any of the players. Annie found out a lot, but not enough. I went out there, but I didn't get anything. It's going to be up to you, Billy. You can break the case wide open.”

Billy rubbed his cheek. “So Elaine Hasty saw Chloe Martin go down the path.” It was a statement, not a question. Billy looked like Gus with a bone clamped in his teeth.

“Right. But she saw someone else. I'd bet my car on it.” Max slouched, seeking comfort in the hard metal straight chair in front of Billy's desk. If he'd been a felon, he might have considered confession as a route to a comfortable mattress in a cell. “In any event, when you talk to Elaine”—Max believed in taking a positive approach—“you can build your case and at the same time”—a bright smile and an easy shrug—“you can make sure we aren't missing anything.” He glanced at the closed folder holding the statements from last night. “Like Rusty Brandt.”

Billy made a noise deep in his throat. “I know. We got to talk to him pronto. Yeah, I got Brandt on my list to see.”

Max tipped his chair upright. “We can swing by Nightingale Courts, then pay Brandt a visit.” Max stood.

Billy was getting to his feet when the intercom on his desk buzzed. He shot a surly look at the intercom. “I told Mavis I'm not talking to that guy.” He stood by the desk and flexed his hands, cracking the knuckles. “As if I don't have enough on my plate without having to deal with this character who's got the hots for Chloe Martin. Did you see him out there when you came in?”

Max gave a swift nod. “There was a big guy. Basketball type. He jumped up when I came in and he
looked pretty unhappy when Mavis waved me through.” Unhappy put it mildly. “Who is he?”

“Lawyer. Bob Winslow. I've met him at Rotary. Nice enough but now”—Billy turned his big hands palms up—“claims the Martin gal couldn't hurt anybody, not the type, sweet, kind, helps old ladies across the street. I told him she also goddamn well is a fugitive from justice and the best favor he can do for her is find her and get her here quick. Seems the aunt and uncle called him, asked if he'd seen her. I'm not wasting another minute talking to him. Like I told him, find her, then I'll talk to him.”

The buzzer rasped like wasps spilling from a crushed nest.

“Dammit, Mavis ought to know better.” Billy leaned over and jabbed the button. “Yeah?”

Mavis was formal. “Captain, Mr. Brandt and Ms. Kelly are here to see you. Mr. Brandt said they wish to speak to you in regard to the O'Neill case. Are you available?”

Billy's thick blond eyebrows crinkled. “Sure. Yeah. Send 'em in.” He clicked off the intercom. He sat down and squared his shoulders. He was an imposing figure behind his desk. “Hey Max, speak of the devil…”

 

Annie knew a moment of terror as she turned to face the solitary figure walking toward her in heavy shadow. There had been murder here, a body sprawled only a few feet away. The winter sun slides deep into the ocean with a sudden finality. Already the shadows were lengthening. Annie strained to see.

Virginia Neville moved out of the shadow, stopped a foot away. Virginia's grief-raddled face had the lumpy and pummeled look of dirty ice on a glacier.
Eyes that burned with a cold and fierce anger raked over Annie. “Why are you here?” Her voice was cold, too, icy as winter wind. Her appearance was shocking. Last night before tragedy struck she'd been an elegant and love-struck woman, her face alight with joy, diamonds sparkling above a silver dress. Now her coronet braids, tied too loose, tipped a little to one side. She wore no makeup, her skin as gray as the silk lining of a casket. She hunched toward Annie, hands deep in the pockets of her bulky wool jacket. Despite the heavy coat and billowing navy wool slacks, she looked in-substantial. She took another step, close enough so that Annie saw the lines bracketing her eyes and lips, making her look much older than her age, close enough so that Annie felt the intensity of her anger, took a step in retreat.

“I spoke with Carl.” Annie pointed up toward the house. “I'm trying to work out what happened last night.” Of course, Carl had no knowledge that Annie had come to the point. That didn't matter. He'd accepted her survey of the kitchen.

“Oh.” The tension slowly eased out of the older woman's face. She glanced up the path that led to the gallery, nodded. “I see. I didn't know. You help the police, don't you?” Her hands came out of the pockets. She lifted one to smooth back a tendril of hair that had slipped from the braids.

Annie hoped Billy never heard of her elevation to police duty. “I'm just a citizen trying to be of assistance. There's some confusion about the timing of the attack.”

Virginia looked down at the yellow tape that marked the position of the body. “I came—” She broke off, pressed her fingers against her cheeks.

Annie ached for the bereft woman. “I'm so sorry, Mrs. Neville. If there's anything I can do…”

Virginia's hands dropped, hung limply beside her. “Sometimes Jake and I used to bring a picnic down here. When the weather was nice.” She gestured toward the cane. “There's a path from the house—”

Annie pictured the ornate Italian villa that housed the Neville family. Interesting that Virginia didn't call the villa “my” house or “our” house. It was “the” house. How welcome did she feel in Nathaniel Neville's extravagant home?

“—as well as the gallery. This was one of Jake's favorite places on the whole island. He thought it was beautiful.” She looked at the uneven mound that marked the remains of the fort. “Did you know there were sixty-two guns mounted here?” Her lips trembled. “I wouldn't have known that. Jake told me.” There was a wistful pride in her declaration.

Annie tried to think of something to say, anything to stem the flow of these reminiscences. “There isn't much left.” Then she felt dreadful. There was nothing left for Virginia.

But Virginia was caught up in memories. “…such a gifted artist. He saw colors that most of us never see. He told me he wanted to paint everything, abandoned shacks and deer and owls. Once, we spent an hour watching the fiddler crabs on the mud flat. He loved to sketch me.” There was a lilt of pride in her voice. “He did a lot of drawings of me. And my painting at the house…” She looked again at the tape outline. “I can't take it in. It seems like a nightmare that doesn't end.” She rubbed the back of her hand against her cheek. “I keep thinking maybe it didn't really happen. I decided I'd come here and look”—she pointed at the place
where Jake was found. “So it's true, isn't it.” Her voice was dull. Suddenly her face hardened. She spit out the words, sharp as ice slivers. “If only he hadn't come down here with that girl.” She looked suspiciously at Annie. “What do you mean, you're trying to figure out what happened? They know what happened. He came down here with a girl. She killed him.”

Annie met her gaze without faltering. “Chloe Martin left him alive. There's evidence someone else was here.”

Virginia's eyes widened. Shock sharpened her thin features. “Someone else was here? My God, nobody tells me anything. What's going on? Who was here?” She reached out and a clawlike hand clutched Annie's arm. “Who saw them?”

Even through the nylon jacket, Annie felt the sharpness of Virginia's fingernails. The desperate grip was unpleasant, and Virginia stood too near, her breath quick and uneven.

Annie wanted to jerk away but forced herself to remain still. She understood that Virginia Neville teetered on the edge of hysteria. Of course Virginia wanted to know what had happened and what the police knew. She had every right, but Annie didn't intend to identify Elaine Hasty. There was no need. “There's a witness. She was looking out of the kitchen window at the gallery. Her testimony indicates that someone other than Jake and Chloe went to the point.”

“Who did this witness see?” The fierce grip tightened. “Who?” It was a cry from deep in her throat.

Annie pried the steel-hard fingers from her arm, stepped back a pace. “We don't know yet. She won't say. But the chief will arrest her as a material witness if she doesn't cooperate.” Surely he would. Surely
Billy understood the need to force Elaine to speak. The threat of jail time should accomplish that. Elaine wouldn't be so cocky if she found that her silence was a sure ticket to a cell.

Virginia's pale face creased in a petulant frown. “How can you know this person saw anyone if she won't say who it was? Did she see a stranger? Is that it? Did she give a description?”

The shadows from the pine were a swath of darkness across the point. Black clouds bunched in the west. The wind off the water gusted, spinning pine straw across the bricks. Annie shivered, her arms prickling with cold beneath the thin jacket. “Mrs. Neville, I wish I knew more. All I can tell you for certain is that the observer saw someone in addition to Jake and Chloe. She knows the identity of the person, but she's refusing to reveal that information. Don't worry. I'm sure she'll be made to speak. And—” Annie hesitated for an instant. She'd promised Chloe that she'd talk to Billy, make it possible for Chloe to surrender without being jailed. That was a promise—she glanced at her watch—that she had a little over an hour to make good. Now here was a distraught Virginia Neville. If Annie could say anything to lessen the dreadful strain in Virginia's face, she ought to say it. “—I'll let you know as soon as we discover the identity of the other person who followed Jake.”

Virginia pressed her fingers against her temples. “I don't understand.” She dropped her hands, clasped them tightly together. “Why would anyone follow Jake? You're sure she said it was Jake that was followed, not that girl?”

Annie stared at Virginia. “Yes.” She answered slowly, but her thoughts were racing. It made a differ
ence, didn't it? A big difference. Elaine saw Chloe go down the path, then Jake. Anyone who came after him was surely following Jake, not Chloe. Among those attending the reception, who cared enough about Jake O'Neill to follow him into the darkness? The faces of the Neville family drifted through Annie's mind.

Virginia's shaky voice answered the unspoken question. “I don't want to think about it. But I have to, don't I? I know who wanted Jake gone.” She took a deep harsh breath. “They all hated him, Carl and Irene and Susan and Rusty. Because he was going to marry me. Louise was always polite to him. And to me. But she didn't want me to marry him.” Virginia shivered. “I'm frightened. If one of them killed Jake, it was to make sure they'd get Nathaniel's money. If someone killed Jake for the money, why not kill me?” She looked wildly at Annie. “Tell that policeman he has to find out who did it or I may be next. I have to know who followed Jake. I have to protect myself.” The wind gusted again, scattering the pine straw, bending the pines, pulling tendrils of hair from Virginia's braids, billowing her slacks. She brushed the hair away from her face. “When the police find out, you must call and tell me.” Her querulous voice had an edge of panic.

Promises, promises…

“I'll call.” Annie was emphatic. “Now, you'd better get home. It's getting dark and much colder.”

“I know.” The sound was faint, almost lost beneath the slap of the waves. “Yes. Thank you.” Virginia slowly turned away. She stopped once at the stand of cane and looked back at Annie, then she curved around the stalks and was gone.

Annie looked at her watch and broke into a run.

 

Max brought another straight chair, placed it in front of Billy's desk. He was standing near the door when Mavis ushered Rusty Brandt and Beth Kelly into the office.

As the door closed behind Mavis, Billy stood. “Ms. Kelly. Mr. Brandt.” Billy jerked his head toward Max. “Deputy Darling. I understand you wish to see me”—he looked from the quick-moving, slender woman with pain-filled eyes to the stocky, reddish-haired man with deep lines grooving his flushed face—“about the O'Neill case. Please be seated.” Billy nodded toward the chairs.

Without looking at each other, Rusty and Beth sat down. Anger pulsed between them. She laced her fingers together, stared at Billy. Rusty tried for a smile, failed. “Billy, you know I want to help if I can. But I've got to know for sure”—he looked from Billy to Max and back again—“everything said here is in confidence. Right?”

“This is a murder investigation.” Billy picked up a pen, nudged the tan folder. “If you have some reason to fear that public disclosure of your testimony might endanger you, we will make every effort to keep the origin of the information—”