The Precipice (12 page)

“All of us?” Amelia queried.

“That would be fine.” Steady as he goes. He paused for effect or just to gather his thoughts and then continued. “Miss Pennington, first of all, we analyzed the contents of your car. We found a necklace that we have determined to belong to the missing girl.”

“What!” There was a collective gasp among the three women.

“Yes, ma’am.” He was looking right at Elizabeth.

What is he talking about? How is this possible?
Elizabeth felt herself scarcely able to breathe. Nana jumped in to her rescue.

“Officer, there must be some mistake. That can’t be possible.”

“Well, ma’am. I’m afraid it is.” His voice was deep and firm.

“She didn’t even know the girl. None of us met her.” Amelia’s mind was racing.

“Is that so?” He was just as calm and collected as at the start of the conversation. This guy definitely did not have much of a sense of humor.

“As a matter of fact, it is. And Elizabeth didn’t arrive here until late Friday evening because I called and asked her to come. She wouldn’t have had the opportunity to even meet the guest who is missing. She couldn’t possibly have any connection.”

“Well, ma’am, I understand what you’re saying, but it does appear there is a connection.”

There was no swaying him. He turned to leave the back porch and stopped just short of the doorway. He turned and looked right at Elizabeth again. “I don’t think I need to remind you what that means…stay in sight.” He spun back around and left the ladies alone with their mouths hanging open.

Rashelle turned to Elizabeth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean! He can’t be serious, Lizzi!” Her voice was loud and demanding.

Amelia jumped in. “Alright, Rashelle. Calm down. This whole thing will get sorted out and everything will be alright.” She seemed to be trying to convince herself as she spoke. “I’m sure this is just one big misunderstanding.” Without another word from any of them, she turned and exited the porch for an unknown destination. The two friends were left alone with their dinners.

They ate in silence. The food didn’t taste quite as good as it had when they first sat down. It was getting late into the evening and it had been a very long day. Both of their heads were spinning. Lt. Perkins’ comments didn’t make any sense. Elizabeth felt anger rising up inside of her. She wasn’t going to take this sitting down. She needed to do something. The trained professionals had to be missing a key piece of information. She knew these grounds and the people that worked here better than they did. “C’mon, Shelle. Let’s get rid of these dishes.” It was time to make themselves scarce. As an afterthought, she added, “Want to grab a glass of wine? I think better with one.” The girls shared a nervous giggle, gathered their dirty plates, and headed toward the door to the kitchen that led from the porch. It was a hinged door without a window and tended to be more stubborn than the swinging door from the main dining room into the kitchen. Elizabeth turned sideways to use her shoulder to get better leverage. She gave the door a firm jolt with her entire body behind it. The door flew open so unexpectedly that she lurched into the kitchen nearly tripping over her own two feet. She struggled to hold onto her plate and keep her feet on the floor. The door thudded against something behind it and then swung back out toward Rashelle, who was standing in the doorway watching the whole thing unfold. Just as she reached out to stop the door from swinging any further toward her, Elizabeth let out a blood curdling scream.

Chapter 14

R
ashelle couldn’t get through the kitchen door fast enough. “What, Lizzi? What!” With her dirty dishes in her right hand, she pulled the swinging door back with her left to see what Elizabeth was looking at behind the door. Her eyes grew wide. “What happened?” Rashelle’s mouth gaped open and her eyes were open wide.

There, in a heap on the floor, was the body of a middle-aged man wearing a crisp, white chef’s jacket with black and white hounds tooth check pants. His jacket was stained with blood oozing from the wound caused by the chef’s knife sticking out of his chest. Rashelle looked from the body to her friend and back again. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Elizabeth had the same look of shock on her face.

Rashelle tried again. “What the hell happened?”

“I just opened the door!”

“Was he standing behind the door?” her voice had quieted to a whisper.

“I have no idea! I just pushed the door open and it hit something!”

Rashelle cupped her full hand across her mouth as if stifling a shriek. She was trying hard to comprehend the bloody mess on the kitchen floor.

“I don’t think I did anything but this looks terrible!” Anger was rising inside of her. Her voice was getting louder and starting to sound desperate. She wasn’t sure what to think. Her first instinct, as irrational as it was, was to run and get out of there. The lieutenant just accused her of having a connection with the missing girl and now she was standing over the body of a dead cook. She didn’t even recognize him. This was not good. Could he be a guest?
She took a closer look at the knife sticking out of the body and thought it looked at lot like Tony’s new knife
.

“Liz, let’s get out of here!” Shelle yelled in a whisper. Fortunately no one was in the kitchen, but at any moment, someone could come bursting through the door and find them in a very incriminating situation.

“Shelle, we can’t just walk out of here. We need to let someone know—”

“NO, WE DON’T! The next person through the doors will just have to handle it. It doesn’t have to be you. He is obviously dead. He can wait. You can’t do anything for him.” She gestured toward the bloody man on the floor behind the door. “If Lt. Perkins sees us here, he won’t waste any more time. He’ll just cuff you and take you away. One way or another, you’ll end up being charged. They will probably charge you with the disappearance of the Hutchins’ girl, too. You have got to get outta here!” She grabbed Elizabeth with her free hand, still holding her plate and silverware, and led her back out onto the porch. They put their plates back on the table where they were sitting, exactly as they had been arranged before, as if they had just got up and walked out, never entering the kitchen. Both girls felt an awful twisting sensation in their stomachs. They knew what they had just done was not right, but neither could come up with a better idea. Stepping into the foyer they watched in horror just as Lt. Perkins was entering the dining room from the foyer. They hurried to the doorway of the dining room to see him heading straight for the kitchen door. They both gasped. “Oh, no!” one of them murmured softly.
This can’t be happening
. What they did next was a split second decision, but one that they both made simultaneously.

“Lieutenant!” they shrieked in unison as he lifted his hand to push open the kitchen door. He stopped in mid-stride and turned his head to respond to the girls. The look on his face told him they had startled him.

Not trusting what Rashelle was going to blurt out next, Elizabeth did the talking. “Lt. Perkins, if you are looking for Tony, he is down at the beach.” She tried to make her voice sound calmer than she felt. Hopefully her face did not have a look of terror on it.

Rashelle couldn’t resist chiming in as well, “And if you are looking for coffee, Tony set up a beverage station in the sitting room.” She motioned across the foyer.

Perkins paused for a moment and examined the girls’ faces for a hint of ulterior motive. His hand was still poised near the door. He considered their suggestions, turned the rest of his body toward them, and lowered his hand. “Thank you, ladies.” His voice was low and steady. He headed back across the dining room, the sound of his firm footsteps on the old wooden floor echoed in the empty room.

The girls stood back while he passed them, and then breathed a huge sigh of relief. They followed behind him, making their exit to the left up the carpeted stairs. Out of their line of sight, the kitchen staff were returning to the inn through the back porch, each one loaded down with the essentials necessary for the clambake on the beach. Once the girls reached the landing and they thought they were out of Perkins’ earshot, they stopped long enough to strategize. Elizabeth turned toward Rashelle, grabbing onto both forearms. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Now what!” She was scared.

“Let’s go to my room. I’ve got a stash there.”

Elizabeth was puzzled. “A what?! A stash? What stash? What do you have—” She was getting the wrong idea.

“Wine…I’ve got a little fridge with a few bottles of wine—.” Rashelle set her straight. 

“I don’t care about the wine!” She was losing her patience. “If you haven’t noticed, I have a couple other things to worry about right now.” Her voice was rising with her frustration and fear.

Rashelle slowed the tempo and lowered the volume. “Oh, I know you do. But I know you could use a glass of wine, too.” She practically winked.

Lizzi almost smiled. She would have, under different circumstances. She thought about Rashelle’s suggestion for a moment but changed her mind. “No, not now. I’m going to go down to the beach and take a look around.”

“The beach. A look around?! It’s dark out!”

“I know. The moon is out, though. I just need to take a look down there. Satisfy my curiosity.”

“Satisfy your curiosity.” Rashelle did not like the idea at all. “And I suppose you want me to go with you.”

“That would be great, but you don’t have to.” Elizabeth was sounding braver than she felt.

“Alright, let’s go.” Rashelle reluctantly reached out to take her friend’s arm. Together, the two did an about face and started heading back down the stairs. “Hold it!” They both stopped abruptly on the second step. Elizabeth had to reach out and grab onto the railing to keep herself from falling forward from their momentum. Rashelle reached into her pants pocket and retrieved her vibrating cell phone. “Hello?” Elizabeth listened to the one sided conversation. “Uh-huh…Yes, of course…Yes…I’ll take care of it right away.” She flipped her phone closed and turned to look at Elizabeth. Awkwardness hung in the air. “I’m sorry. There are some things I need to take care of…I…I can’t go with you.”

“What kind of things? They can’t wait?”

Shelle shook her head, but remained tight-lipped about what she needed to do specifically.

Elizabeth looked at her puzzled for a moment and finally decided she wouldn’t pursue it. She let it go. She didn’t need to stick her nose in her friend’s business when it pertained to her job. She needed to be a good friend and just trust her. Of course, that was the tough part, knowing who to trust around there, even her friend. Rashelle didn’t seem as forthcoming with information as Elizabeth would like. “Okay. I understand. You do what you need to do. I’ll go alone.”

Rashelle gasped. “Are you serious? I’m so sorry. I would go with you if I could—”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll just meet you back here…in your room. Okay? We’ll have that glass of wine.”

“That sounds great. See you then.” Rashelle was obviously very uncomfortable with her going alone. “Ya know, Liz. I’ll try to finish up quickly and meet you down there...on the beach. Okay?”

“Great.” She tried to make it sound as noncommittal as possible. She really didn’t expect to see Rashelle on the beach.

They continued down to the bottom of the stairs to the lobby. Rashelle took a left into the office and Elizabeth headed toward the front door. Rashelle watched from behind the reception desk as her friend exited the inn.

Elizabeth reached the bottom of the stairs of the porch and set off across the front lawn at a steady gate, determined in her purpose. She noticed that the grass was getting a little long. It tickled her ankles as she trekked through it. Her feet crunched on the gravel in the circular driveway and then she was back onto the grass heading for the top of the stairway leading down to the beach. The hedges along the edge of the cliff were getting scraggly and unshaped. Renard and Girard had been slacking off a bit.

A brisk breeze off the water caressed her face. She slowed her pace and took a deep breath as she neared the stairs. The salty sea air was invigorating to her. It was dark and the fog hung in the air, but the half-moon provided some illumination as she started to descend the wooden stairs. She held onto the railing, trying not to look down, and focused on where she was placing her feet. This wasn’t her favorite set of stairs to walk on. She moved at a steady pace, not too fast to risk tripping or slipping, but fast enough so she could cover ground in a reasonable amount of time. Elizabeth just wanted to take a look at the beach, to see for herself that everything was as it should be. She could hear the waves crashing against the beach and she could just make them out. The impending storm had stirred up the ocean ahead of it.

Suddenly she heard the whir of a car engine nearby. It sounded like it was approaching the circular drive. Elizabeth headed back up the stairs far enough to peak around the bushes. She watched the lights of a car drive toward her before it rounded the circular drive and came to a stop near the front door of the inn. It looked like a small car, perhaps a sports car. It was hard to tell in the limited light of the grounds and the glare of the inn’s porch lights. Who had been allowed in? Wasn’t the inn in lockdown? She watched to see who got out. Instead, the car remained idling at the base of the porch stairs. The front door opened and a female headed down the stairs—Rashelle!—opened the door to the passenger side of the car and slipped in quickly. What was she doing?! Who was she going with?! The small car sped off leaving a cloud of dust from the gravel it had stirred up in its wake. Elizabeth was left to wonder if that was the same sports car that had passed her on the way in on Friday evening. Then it dawned on her. The man driving that car…was Aaron, the tennis pro who had been fired last spring. She wondered how Rashelle knew who he was. Elizabeth’s mind was racing. She needed more answers from her friend. In the meantime, she was going to go back to her task of surveying the beach. She turned toward the stairway and slowly headed back down.

She reached the bottom step and took her first step onto the sandy beach. She hesitated before setting off down the beach. She felt very alone. Suddenly her idea of heading down by herself didn’t seem so smart. Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light. The fog was limiting visibility. She took a deep breath and started off down the beach. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss so far but she couldn’t see very far in front of her. The fog was getting thicker. She could hear the waves crashing on the beach to her right. A few more steps and Elizabeth’s foot landed on something hard that was embedded in the sand. She reached down and picked up an object that looked cylindrical. “Corn cob.” She sounded disgusted, even though there was no one there to hear. A leftover from the clambake on the beach. “No one knows how to pick up after themselves.” She tossed the cob to the side, shook her head, and pressed on.

After a few minutes of shuffling through the sand, she could just make out the outline of the rocky outcroppings on the east end of the beach. Elizabeth kept walking, feeling very vulnerable in the darkness on the beach. Suddenly Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. There was something ahead, partially obscured by the fog. It looked like a person standing several yards ahead of her. Was someone on the beach with her?
It looked like a young girl. Elizabeth kept squinting her eyes, trying to see more clearly through the fog. Her feet were frozen in place. The figure seemed to be looking at her. Who could it be? Was it the fog playing tricks on her? Slowly she started to move her feet toward the girl. The fog was suddenly thicker where the girl was standing, making it more difficult for her to see. “Who’s there?!” Elizabeth called to her. Would she be able to hear her over the roar of the surf?
No response. She could no longer make out a figure. The fog had completely obliterated her view. She kept walking in the direction she had seen the girl. It seemed like she would have caught up to her by now. She kept walking. “Hello!” Where could she have gone? Had she really been there at all?
Elizabeth stood still, paralyzed with fear. She was barely breathing. The fog swirled around her. She could feel the moisture caressing her face. She listened to the waves crashing against the shore. Her thoughts turned to Slater and his boat,
The Seward Lady
.

It was a modest-sized boat, probably forty feet in length with a main deck and a lower level that only Slater and his crew frequented. The main deck was set up with bench seating along the sides at the bow and stern so the passengers could observe Slater pulling in lobster traps. About a third of the way back from the bow was a very primitive captain’s deck with a wheel, a two way radio, and the throttle behind a simple windshield that protected the captain on three sides from inclement weather. On the right side of the boat was a rig with a pulley system that he used to pull up the lobster traps. He would steer the boat close to one of his buoys that was bobbing on top of the water. There was a rope attached to the buoy, the other end of which was attached to the lobster trap that was sitting on the ocean floor. Each lobster fisherman had one or two specific color patterns that he or she had the exclusive right to use on their buoys so that there would be no mistaking which buoys belonged to which fisherman. Most could tell you who owned each one. Slater would use a long handled tool with a hook on the end of it to snag the buoy and pull it up onto the side of the boat. He would then raise it up over the rig, threading the rope onto the pulley, and use the crank to wind in the rope and pull the trap to the surface. Fingers were always crossed so that, after all the cranking, there would be a lobster in the trap and it would be large enough to keep. There were very strict guidelines as to which lobsters were large enough to keep and each lobsterman had a measuring tool handy to verify his catch. In addition, any female lobsters that were carrying eggs must be returned to the sea, even if they were otherwise large enough to keep, so the eggs would have the chance to hatch. These rules were in place so that the lobsters were not over fished and the industry could sustain itself. Sometimes the lobsters were just large enough. Other times the lobsters were too small or there was no lobster in the trap at all. Lobstering could be a very frustrating industry, one that required long days of back breaking work. Those who lasted any length of time usually had lobstering in their blood and came from a long line of lobstermen.