Reading Up a Storm (23 page)

“Something the matter?” he said now.

I blinked and shook my head. I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “I can't exactly sneak out, Mike. My boss would notice and she's a real dragon. We close at seven tonight. Why don't you come around at eight, once everyone has left, and we can . . . talk.” I tried to sound seductive. I failed.

But he didn't seem to think so. He grinned even wider. “Eight o'clock it is. Nothing like a walk on the beach in the dark.” He gave me an exaggerated wink and an unattractive leer and left.

I dropped back into my chair. Good heavens. What had I done?

“My son said you ran into a bit of trouble last night, Lucy.”

“What? I mean oh, hi, Mrs. O'Reilly. Yeah, a deer ran into the road in front of me. I didn't hit it, thank goodness. It was great of Ray and his friends to help me out.”

“He phoned me this morning and told me to look in on you. He wants to be sure you're okay.”

“You can see that I am.”

She put a stack of hardcovers on the desk. “In that case can you recommend something for my husband? He's started to get interested in the origins of the First World War.”

“Has he read
The War that Ended Peace
by Margaret MacMillan? It's excellent.”

“I don't think so.”

“Let me get it for you. It was returned earlier and I didn't see it go out again.” I went to the history shelf, found the thick book, and brought it back. Mrs. O'Reilly thanked me and left.

At five, the kids came clattering downstairs, and a lineup formed as they and their parents checked out their books. When they'd left, laughing and chattering, I called Ronald. “Would you mind taking the desk for a while? I've something important I need to do.”

“Sure.”

I went outside with my iPhone. On the spur of the moment, I'd come up with a plan to deal with Mike Williamson. I knew I should go to Watson with this information, but what could I tell him? That Mike gave
me a creepy feeling? That I'd seen those skinny, hairy legs where they shouldn't have been?

I didn't think the police had leg lineups.

I'd promised Watson I wouldn't play the Lone Ranger anymore. And I wouldn't. No, for this plan I needed allies.

I called Butch first. “Can you come to the library at seven tonight?”

“Sure. What's up?”

“I can't explain on the phone. I need you to trust me. It's very important. You mustn't be late.”

“I'll be there.”

My next call was to Connor. I made the same request. He didn't hesitate for a moment before agreeing to come. I went back inside, but had a hard time concentrating on my job for what remained of the day. I said nothing to my coworkers about my plans. They'd only worry.

I was worrying.

At five minutes to seven I announced closing time. The last of the stragglers checked out their books. Bertie came out of the back carrying her keys and bag. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“No,” I said.

She studied my face. “You still look strained. Take it easy for a few days. You should come to the studio. I have a gentle yoga class at six thirty tomorrow morning.”

The door opened and Butch and Connor came in. They eyed each other suspiciously, and me even more suspiciously. “Is something going on here?” Bertie said.

“Nope.”

“I don't believe you,” she said, “but I trust you're in good hands, Lucy. Good night.”

I walked to the door with her and glanced out. Dusk was lengthening and the first and brightest stars were appearing in the blue-black sky.

I turned and faced the two men. I took a deep breath. “Mike Williamson killed his father.” No point in beating about the bush.

“Are you sure?” Connor said.

“How do you know?” Butch said.

I explained about seeing him at the beach, and how I hadn't recognized him until today, when I saw him wearing shorts. “He was there, deciding where to place the lights. I'm sure of it. He needed daylight to check out that stretch of the coast, and with the storm coming he would know that everyone would be heading home soon. He must have stayed until it was dark and he figured his dad's boat would be passing.”

“This is the first I've heard of any lights,” Connor said.

“You remember at book club Will told us that lights on the beach had made him turn toward what he thought was a small boat harbor?”

“That's a story. A story Louise Jane told to make herself sound important.”

“But it wasn't just a story. I saw them too.”

“Why didn't you tell me or Sam Watson?” Butch asked.

“At first I didn't think it was important. Then, when I realized it might have been a deliberate attempt to wreck Will's boat, it was after Louise Jane had grabbed the old tale and run with it, so no one believed me.”

“Fair enough,” Connor said. “We'll go with you to Detective Watson.”

“Actually,” I said, “I've got an idea. Look, Watson's not going to arrest a guy because I said he has hairy legs.”

“You've got that one right,” Butch muttered.

“So, we're going to trap him.” I checked my watch. Seven fifteen. “He'll be here at eight. You'd better move your cars.”

“What?!”

“Are you nuts?”

“Hide your cars in the loop. He won't notice them in the dark. I'll wait for Mike outside. You two can conceal yourselves nearby.”

“Why would we want to do that?” Connor said.

“Remember in
Kidnapped
when Alan made Ebenezer Balfour confess to cheating David out of his inheritance while David and the lawyer hid and listened? We'll do the same.”

Butch and Connor looked at each other.

“That,” Butch said, “is the craziest thing I've ever heard.”

“Hear me out. Mike is a vain and boastful man. He thinks I'm interested in him. I don't expect him to break down and confess, but I'm counting on him telling me enough, thinking he's impressing me with how clever he is. Then, once he's said something we can take to Watson, you two leap out of the bushes and Butch arrests him.” I smiled at them.

“First,” Connor said, “allow me to point out that there are no conveniently located bushes.”

“No, but you can hide around the corner. I'll turn off the light above the door.”

“Even better,” Connor said, “I'll talk to him. I'll say I'm looking for you, but you seem to have gone out.
And then I'll say, ‘By the way, Mike, did you kill your dad?'”

“He is not going to say anything in an attempt to impress you,” I said. “It has to be me.”

“This,” Butch said, “is the stupidest idea I have ever heard.”

“But?” I said.

“But, it's worth a try. Connor and I'll be here in case he tries anything. At best he'll say something about setting the lights and at worst he'll say nothing incriminating at all.”

“I can't say I approve,” Connor said, “but I'm not going to drive off and leave you two to carry out that plan by yourselves.”

“Good,” I said. “Now, move those cars.”

I checked my watch again. Seven thirty. Charles was sitting on the returns shelf by the door, his eyes fixed on my face, his tail moving slowly back and forth. “What?” I asked. “You want to object too?”

The big cat wisely said
nothing.

By quarter of eight we were in position. I wasn't going to take the chance of getting trapped inside the lighthouse while my rescuers waited outside, so I positioned myself on the front step. Connor and Butch had concealed their cars in the loop and themselves in the deep shadows of the lighthouse.

When I'd left the building, Charles had tried to dash outside. That was unusual. People came and went all day, and he knew better than to try to escape. I lunged for him and snatched him up. He spat and hissed and scratched at my arms.

“Wow! Calm down there,” I said. “What's gotten into you?” I deposited him on the desk and dashed for the door. He tried to make a leap for it, but I was faster and slammed the door in his furious little face.

“Everything okay?” came a deep voice from the darkness.

“Fine. Charles decided that tonight of all nights, he wants to hunt for mice.”

I'd switched off the lamp above the door. It was a cloudless night, for which I was grateful, and the moon cast a pale white light. I took a deep breath, bounced on my toes, and swung my arms. My neck and shoulders were stiffening under the tension, but I tried to ignore that.

It would all be over soon.

At five to eight, lights came down the drive. I held my breath. It might be someone looking to enjoy the marsh on a quiet night. Heck, it might be Louise Jane. If it was I'd kill her.

The car swung toward us and my heart sped up. It pulled to a stop directly in front of the path to the library.

“Showtime,” Butch said.

The car door opened and someone got out.

“Hey, Lucy.” Stephanie.

I ran toward her. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn't call me about Mike. Mom has a friend over to watch a movie tonight, so I figured I'd drop by and ask if you talked to him. To my brother, imagine that. Did you?”

“Yes. No. Never mind. You have to leave. Now. Quickly.” I grabbed her arm.

She pulled it away. “What's going on, Lucy?”

“Nothing.”

“Too late,” Butch called. “Someone's coming. Get her over here.”

“Who's that?” Steph peered into the dark. “What are you people doing? Oh, it's you. I should have known.”

“Hide. Now,” I shouted. Headlights were coming down the drive.

I shoved Stephanie toward the men. An arm reached out and she was dragged into the shadows. “Will you let go of me!” she said. “You can't touch me like that. Oh, hi, Connor. You're here too? What's going on?”

“Will you be quiet for once,” Butch shouted. “And do what you're told.”

“Do what I'm told? I have no intention of doing any such thing, and certainly not when I'm being told by the likes of you.”

“Please, Stephanie,” Connor said. “It's important, and everything will be explained soon enough.”

“See, Butch? Now I'll listen,” she said. “All you had to do is ask nicely.”

Butch groaned. No one said anything more.

The car came to a stop beside my Yaris. The door opened. Mike Williamson got out. He walked slowly up the path, swaggering in his confidence.

“Hi, Lucy,” he said. “Why are you standing out here in the dark?”

“It's a beautiful night. I thought I'd wait for you here.”

“Nice to know you're that eager,” he said. “Let's go inside.”

“I've been inside all day. I need some fresh air.”

“We'll go to the beach then. We can have a nice quiet walk. I bet you know some private spots.”

“That would be lovely, but let's wait a couple of minutes and enjoy the moment.”

“Okay. I'm enjoying every moment I spend in your company, Lucy. I hope we can have lots more moments together.”

I giggled. At least I tried to giggle, but I fear it may have
come out more like a strangled choke. The lighthouse beam flashed and I could see Mike smiling at me. His smile was broad, but there was something behind those eyes. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

“Cold? Maybe we should go inside after all.”

“I'm fine. I guess you'll be going home to Raleigh soon. Once you get your father's affairs sorted out.”

“I might stay for a while. If you give me reason to, Lucy. My father's affairs are something I would rather not spend much time thinking about.”

I shifted my feet. We could stand here all night, Mike pretending to flirt, me pretending to respond.

Obviously he was thinking the same thing. “Why don't you get a sweater and then we can go for that beach walk. It's a nice night for it. You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Uh,” I said.

He climbed the step and stood beside me. I could see his face in the moonlight. The edges of his mouth turned up in what he probably thought was a smile. I was amazed that I'd once thought him attractive. He glanced around us, taking in the dark, the quiet. The total, or so it appeared, absence of anyone else. “Whose car's that?”

“What car?”

“The one beside yours.”

“It belongs to a library patron. It wouldn't start so she got a lift home and will send a tow truck out tomorrow. How do you know which one's mine?”

“I figured a cute little car like that would belong to you, Lucy. Looks like you've got some damage to the back bumper. How do you find a car that small handles? Ever have any trouble staying on the road?” The playful spark
had gone out of his eyes. The gray was as cold as chips of ice. He almost snapped the words out, as his composure slipped. Mike might have wanted me to think he was trying to seduce me, but he couldn't hide the menace that practically radiated from him. His plan was to go to the beach, all right. But only one of us would be coming back.

“No.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, no. Do you come to the Outer Banks often?”

“Now and again.”

“I was wondering because I thought I saw you recently.”

Something rustled in the grass. A grunt followed by a squeak.

“What was that?” Mike twisted his neck and peered behind him. Fortunately at that moment the thousand-watt light high above us went into its dormancy.

“Mice. We get lots of mice around here. That's why we have a cat in the library. I was out for a walk a few days ago, I don't remember quite what day, and I saw this guy. Well, let's say it might have been you. I noticed him. I thought he noticed me too.”

“I might have seen you there, yeah.”

I tried to give him a flirtatious little laugh. I wiped clammy hands on my hips. “It wasn't far from where your dad wrecked that boat. Do you sail too, Mike?”

“I used to have a fishing boat. Lost it in my divorce settlement. But I wouldn't exactly say my dad sailed. More like splashed in the water on a boat he couldn't handle and couldn't afford.”

“Why do you think he would have gone out in such bad weather, if he was a poor boater?”

“The thing about my dad, Lucy, was that he wouldn't
let anyone tell him what to do. As far as he was concerned, he knew it all. I knew his absolute self-absorption would get him into trouble one day. And so it did. Why do you want to talk about my father, anyway? Let's go.” He reached for my arm. I pulled it away. I had to keep him talking. The minute he touched me or tried to get me into his car, Butch and Connor would be on us, and all chance of a confession would be gone.

“It was a clever trick,” I said. “Setting those lights, knowing someone unfamiliar with the area would think it a small boat harbor. A place to seek refuge.”

“Dad always did underestimate me. His mistake. I learned a long time ago that I could talk him into doing things he didn't want to do by appealing to his vanity. Gee, Dad, it looks bad if your son can't go to that sports camp with the other kids; what will their parents think? Gee, Dad, what will Marlene think of you, now that you've got a big fancy motorboat, if you don't take her out to sea?” He laughed. My skin crawled.

“He crashed the boat because he followed false lights,” I said.

Mike laughed again, a laugh without the slightest trace of humor. “I knew he'd be too vain to try to learn how to properly navigate the thing. He intended to just crawl around the canals or stick to the sound. I called him that morning, said it was going to be a great day, why didn't he take the boat out for a test drive, show Marlene what he could do with it? Didn't work out so well for good old dad, did it? Another thing you can say for my dad. He'd always had luck on his side, although it seems to have run out as far as the gambling tables go. He and Marlene got themselves to land, although
the boat wasn't so lucky. Still, I knew his luck had to run out sometime.”

I was desperately trying to think of something I could say that would get him to incriminate himself. He'd implied that he'd set the lights, but not come right out and said he had. I changed direction. “Marlene's nice, don't you think?” I said. “What do you suppose she's going to do now? Poor thing.”

“Marlene.” He almost spat. “The sooner she's out of my life, the better. All she was after was my dad's money. What little was left of it.”

The money! That had to be at the center of all this. “You told me you work for a bank. That must be so interesting.”

“It can be useful. But sometimes not useful enough. My dad went through his money mighty fast; it was almost all gone before I found out what was going on.”

I took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Did you call him that night and say you wanted to talk it over? After the trick with the false lights failed?”

He grabbed my arm and gave it a hard twist. “Enough talking. Let's go, Lucy. You're like a rabid dog with a bone and are far too nosy for your own good. I tried to warn you off last night, but you don't seem to be able to stop asking questions.”

“Last night,” I said. “That was you on the road last night? You could have killed me!”

He said nothing, only tightened his grip on my arm.

“Are you taking me for a boat ride?” I said. “Like the one you took your dad in? You're the person who called him the night he died, aren't you?”

“Yeah, I called him. Told him I was thinking of
buying a boat and needed his advice. Like I said, all I had to do was appeal to my dad's vanity and he wouldn't question why we had to look at the boat in the middle of the night. A buddy of mine has a slip at Wanchese. I've been down there with him several times, know my way around in the dark.” He jerked on my arm so hard I was yanked off my feet. “Enough talking. Let's go!”

A shout of rage pierced the night. Mike staggered backward, dragging me with him. I fell hard.

“You killed him! You killed my father!”

“It's okay, Steph. It's okay. I've got him,” said Butch's voice.

Strong hands grabbed me, soft fingers ran over my cheeks and stroked my neck. “Lucy. Lucy. Say something.”

“Something,” I croaked.

A light came on. Connor was crouched beside me. His hands cupped my face and I looked up into blue eyes full of concern. Mike Williamson lay on the ground, facedown. Butch straddled him and was snapping cuffs onto Mike's wrists. Stephanie had Butch's police-issue flashlight trained on the scene. Her hands were perfectly steady.

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” I said, struggling to stand up. Connor jumped to his feet and pulled me after him.

“Mr. Mayor,” Butch said. “Call nine-one-one. I know someone who wants to talk to this guy.”

“Every word I said was a lie,” Mike shouted. “That stupid woman was coming over all coy, wanting me to tell her that I'd been a bad boy. So I did what she wanted. This is a setup, pure and simple.”

“We'll let the detectives sort it out,” Butch said.

“Looks to me,” Stephanie said, “that they'll have a pretty good case.”

Mike twisted his head to look at her. “Who are you?”

“Me?” Stephanie said. “I'm your sister.”

Connor kept his arm around me while he pulled out his phone. He called 911 first, and told them Butch needed assistance. Then he called Watson and told him to get down to the station immediately. He put his phone away and wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “Lucy. My darling, precious, Lucy,” he whispered. “Don't you ever do anything that foolish again. I couldn't bear to lose you.”

Now that it was over, I began to shake. I couldn't believe I'd been so brave. And so foolish. Connor stroked my back and whispered words of comfort. I felt his strong heart beating against me. I didn't want to move. Not ever again.

I heard sirens coming our way. Reluctantly, I pushed myself back from Connor. I looked into his eyes and gave him a smile. I touched his cheek. His lips formed the word “Lucy” and then he released me.

Butch stood up and pulled Mike to his feet as the sirens got close and blue and red lights washed the tall pines lining the driveway.

“That was quick,” I said.

“I gave them a call when I was moving my car,” Butch said. “A heads-up that I might need assistance.”

Mike stared at me with such vehemence that I took a step backward. “You. I should have finished you off last night. I'll get you for this.”

Connor stepped between us, and Butch said, “Where you're going, you won't be getting anyone, buddy. Steph, do you know a good lawyer?”

“Nope,” she
said.