Death at a Premium (19 page)

“Maybe Vicki doesn’t feel up to working . . .” Josie began.

“I can help. It will keep me from thinking about the atrocities that might be happening to Leslie in jail,” Vicki said.

Josie smiled. “I don’t think you have to worry about anything happening to Leslie. The only jail on the island is a holding cell at the back of the police station. I understand the worst the prisoners suffer is having to choose between pizza from Island Pies and seafood from Sylvester’s take-out for dinner.”

“Oh. Leslie loves Sylvester’s fried scallops.” Vicki perked up. “Do you think I’ll be able to visit him?”

“Of course you will,” Mary Ann said. “Perhaps they’ll even allow conjugal visits,” she added sarcastically.

Vicki took a deep breath and dried her eyes on her sleeve. “I guess I can work now.”

Josie breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s get going.”

They worked hard for four hours, pausing to order pizza from Island Pies. Vicki questioned the delivery man and discovered that he had made a delivery to the police station just a few hours before. “Pepperoni and peppers— Leslie’s favorite,” she reported to Josie and Mary Ann. They were just installing the last window on the front facade when Sam appeared.

“So you’ve decided on a formal affair,” he said, smiling and kissing the top of Josie’s head as he brushed sawdust off his pant legs.

For a moment, she was completely mystified before remembering the dress being altered for her back in New York City at this very moment. “Gert called Carol, right?”

“Right! Mom’s thrilled. But we have lots of things to do. I thought we should start with dinner tonight at Basil’s. That’s the logical place for the reception, don’t you think?”

“But I thought Risa . . . Oh damn, Sam, I can’t think about that right now.”

“Josie, you’ve made the important decision. Now all we have to do is figure out where to hold the reception after the wedding.”

“Sam, Leslie was arrested for the murder of that man.”

“What man?”

“The body found here.”

Sam changed gears with apparent ease. “They’ve identified him?”

“I don’t know. I was in the city . . . well, actually I was driving home when he was arrested. I don’t think anyone said anything about the identity of the victim. Did they?” she turned to Vicki and Mary Ann, who were busy nailing the bead board to the wall beneath one of the new windows.

“No.”

“I don’t remember them saying anything about who he is.”

“Really? That’s odd.”

“Why, Sam?”

“Usually a warrant is issued for the arrest of someone for murder. Like you see on TV: ‘You’re under arrest for the murder of John Doe.’ Although, of course, it’s never exactly like it is on television.”

“It certainly wasn’t like that here,” Mary Ann said.

“Why not? What did they say?” Josie asked.

“Yes, what happened, exactly?” Sam added.

“Well, we were all sitting around eating doughnuts,” Mary Ann began. She looked over at Josie and continued. “I know it sounds bad, but we all worked late last night—it was almost nine when I finally got home—and so we had agreed to meet here at eight.”

“Except for Leslie,” Vicki pointed out. “He just dropped me off and then went to the bakery to pick up breakfast for us. It only took a few extra minutes. And we had worked . . .”

“Late last night. That’s fine,” Josie assured her. “You all did a lot while I was gone. I have nothing to complain about. Go on with your story.”

“Well, it’s not that I’m trying to defend Leslie—or us—but he really got back here in record time. Anyway, we all settled down to eat,” Mary Ann continued.

“Where?”

“We were sitting in the front parlor. It’s so gorgeous outside today and the sun comes in through the big bay window.”

Josie realized that they had chosen to sit there because they would be able to see her if she drove up, and she wouldn’t be able to see whether or not they were working if she did appear. But she had faith in these women; the work they had done the day before proved their worth. And she knew that sometimes it was important to give everyone some slack. “Were you in a position to see the Rodneys and Trish Petric arrive?”

“Yes, and you wouldn’t have believed it—they drove up in two cruisers.”

“Two-thirds of the island’s police fleet, in fact,” Sam pointed out.

“Yes. And their lights were flashing.”

“They used their sirens?” Josie asked Mary Ann.

“No, just the lights,” she answered.

“But they left the lights flashing at the curb when they got out and came to the door,” Vicki added to Mary Ann’s description.

“That’s right. They left the lights flashing and came in and announced that they had come to arrest Leslie.”

Sam asked a question. “Who spoke?”

“The son of the police chief. He introduced himself as Officer Michael Rodney and said that Officer Petric and his father, the chief of the island’s police force, were here to arrest Leslie Coyne and that they hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble. They actually had their hands on the guns in their holsters!”

“Well, if Leslie were a killer—and that’s what they’re claiming, not what I’m saying—he very well might have been armed . . .”

“And dangerous,” Vicki finished Sam’s statement. “But Leslie wasn’t—isn’t like that! He’s sweet and kind and would never kill anyone for anything. Never! You have to believe me!”

“We believe you,” Josie said.

“But it doesn’t matter what we believe,” Sam pointed out. “What matters is what the police think, and what they know that we don’t know.”

“They don’t know anything really important! They don’t know Leslie!” Vicki cried.

“I know that’s how you’re feeling, but they arrested him, yes? So they must have connected him to the dead man—whose name you’re sure they didn’t mention?” Sam’s voice remained calm, but Josie suspected he was finding this conversation more than a little trying.

“I’m sure they didn’t mention it,” Mary Ann said. “In fact, they didn’t say anything about murder. Or Leslie’s identification being found on the body or anything like that. They just said they were going to arrest him. Period.”

“Yeah. Can you believe any police force in the world would make such a big deal over a few too many speeding tickets?” Leslie appeared in the doorway.

“Les!” Vicki was at his side and in his arms in an instant.

Nic stood behind Leslie, beaming. In fact, Josie realized, everyone in the room was smiling except for Sam. And Sam, it seemed, had a few questions.

“So you were arrested for speeding?” he asked.

“Yeah, can you believe that? They saw me speeding on my way back from the bakery this morning, they looked up my name on their computers and saw that I had points on my license for other tickets, and they just hauled me in for questioning.”

“In fact, I can believe that.” Sam still wasn’t smiling. “And I’d sure like to know what questions they asked.”

TWENTY-THREE

THE TONE OF the room changed immediately as everyone realized the implications of Sam’s question.

Vicki, still in Leslie’s arms, looked up at him. “What did they ask you? What did you tell them? Were you careful?”

“Careful? What did I have to be careful about? They had a complete record of my tickets . . . there wasn’t much there that I could have lied about.”

“But the murder . . . did they ask you about the murder?” Mary Ann asked.

“They asked me about my tickets. The young cop— Mike something—damn near drove me nuts asking me over and over about the tickets.”

“You said they had a complete record of your moving violations,” Sam pointed out. “What was there to ask you about?”

“That’s what you would have thought, and you would have been wrong,” Leslie said. “He asked where I was picked up and when I was picked up and if I had to appear in court, and then what sort of fine I paid. He asked where I was living when I got each ticket, how long I had been living there . . .” He glanced over at Vicki before continuing. “. . . who I was living with, where I was working. It took a long time, I can tell you.”

“Just how many tickets have you gotten?” Sam asked the question that Josie was curious about.

“Nine.”

“But you’re not old enough to get that many tickets,” Josie exclaimed.

“I’m twenty-nine. Been driving since I was sixteen— that’s thirteen years,” Leslie added as though he was the only one in the group capable of solving this equation.

“How many times have you talked a police officer out of giving you a ticket?” Sam asked.

“Hey, man, I’m not sure I can count that high!” Leslie beamed, and Josie realized he thought he was being clever.

“Well, I guess all those tickets are the reason the island police had so many questions for you,” Josie said.

“Maybe.” Sam sounded as though he didn’t agree with her assessment of the situation. “As I understand it, they asked where you got the tickets, where you were living when you got them, who you were living with, and where you were working.”

“Yeah.”

“Were you driving your own vehicles each time you were picked up?”

“Nah. Sometimes I was driving a car—or truck, probably—that belonged to the company I was working for, and sometimes the car belonged to someone I knew.”

“A friend?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, a friend.”

“Like when you were stopped last week, you were driving my car,” Vicki pointed out.

“This was your second ticket since you started working here?” Josie asked, a bit incredulous.

“Nope. I was picked up by the babe—by the woman police officer—and she didn’t give me a ticket.”

“You mean you charmed your way out of a ticket,” Sam suggested.

“Les can charm his way out of anything,” Vicki said. It didn’t sound to Josie as though she was bragging.

“I guess she thought I was cute.” Leslie had the grace to sound as though the fact embarrassed him—a little.

“Other than that time, have the island police given you any tickets?” Sam asked.

“Nope. I’ve gotten pretty good at making sure I see the cops before they see me,” Leslie explained. “Took me a few days before I realized they were always hanging out in that delivery area behind Hoy’s five-and-ten, but now that I’ve got that scoped out, I think we can be sure they won’t be picking me up again.”

“You could just drive under the speed limit,” Sam suggested.

“You
should
drive under the speed limit,” Josie said. “The island is full of tourists these days and there are lots of kids on bikes and skateboards. They’re having fun and they won’t be paying much attention to safety. You have to look out for them and that means staying under twenty-five miles an hour.” Josie knew she was lecturing, and she knew she didn’t always practice what she was preaching, but years of motherhood got the better of her.

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful,” Leslie said. “Really,” he added. “To tell the truth, it was a little creepy being taken down to the police station like that.”

“Why couldn’t they just question you here?” Vicki asked. “Why do they keep taking you away?”

“And why the handcuffs?” Mary Ann asked.

“They handcuffed you?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. You see,” Leslie began, hesitating for the first time. “You see, I had sort of left town—well, two towns— before paying my fines. Apparently they thought that was more serious than I did. I mean, they were just speeding tickets,” he reminded them.

“What do you think, Sam?” Josie asked.

“It’s possible that those tickets, whether paid or not, were just an excuse to question him,” Sam answered.

“So you think there’s something significant about those questions, right?”

“I can’t think of any other explanation.”

Josie turned to Leslie. “And they only asked you about where you worked and lived when you got those nine tickets, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So that must be it—there must be something significant about one of those places, maybe something that relates to the murdered man,” Josie continued.

“I don’t see the connection . . .” Sam began, but Leslie interrupted him.

“Yeah. They were talking about the murder in the police car,” Leslie spoke up.

“About you in relation to the murder?” Josie asked.

“They think you’re the killer?” Vicki said, starting to cry again.

“Nah, they weren’t thinking about me. They were thinking about Josie.”

“What about me?” Josie asked, her voice rising at least an octave.

“What did they say about Josie?” Sam asked more calmly. “Exactly.”

“The younger officer—he’s the chief’s son, right?”

“Yes, he is. Just one of the many idiosyncrasies of the force here on the island. Go on,” Sam answered.

“He mentioned the murder first. He said something about Josie and Island Contracting being involved in a murder investigation again.”

“What do you mean, something about it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t remember exactly. I was trying to get comfortable—it’s not easy when your hands are cuffed together behind your back, let me tell you.”

“I can imagine,” Sam said patiently. “But you do remember that he mentioned Josie and Island Contracting, right?”

“Yeah. Both Josie and the company. I’m sure of that.”

Sam asked another question. “And what did his father say?”

“His father? Oh, his father wasn’t in the car with us. He led the way in his car. The woman officer was driving.”

“Really?”

“Do you think that’s significant, Sam?” Josie asked.

“I haven’t the foggiest. So Trish Petric was driving and Mike Rodney was riding shotgun and Mike brought up murder and Josie, just like that.”

“Yeah. Made me nervous as hell, too. I thought they were going to arrest me for killing that guy we found. I told them that I didn’t have anything to do with the guy—didn’t even know him. Just because they found my driver’s license doesn’t mean a thing. But they ignored me. They just kept talking about murders on the island and how someone from Island Contracting always turned out to be involved. And then we got to the station and Chief Rodney had them take me into his office, and he started asking me about my speeding tickets. That’s all.”