Still Water (28 page)

“I have another lead,” Matt said cautiously. “I think this is worth looking into.” He watched Baxter carefully. “I think Bryan might have been seeing somebody, a married woman, and I think you ought to question her to see if she might have had a motive to kill him.”

“Who is it?” Baxter sounded immediately suspicious.

He related his talk with Jordan Osborne. Baxter began to look unhappy at the first mention of Kate Little’s name. When he’d finished, Matt waited for Baxter to comment, but he didn’t.

“How come every time I mention Kate Little’s name I feel like you want to throw me out of your office, Chief?”

Baxter picked up a pencil and started tapping it against the edge of the desk. “I just don’t see why you have to keep bringing her into this, that’s all. There’s nothing to link her with any of this. You don’t even know that she knew Bryan.”

“She’s in an unhappy marriage, and she had an affair with Osborne, so why not Bryan Roderick? He had a reputation when it came to women didn’t he? Plus I got the feeling Osborne was holding something back when I mentioned Bryan’s name. What if Kate was seeing him? The night Bryan disappeared she can’t prove that she was at home. She and her husband have separate rooms. Maybe Kate and Bryan had a fight and there was some kind of accident. Remember Ben Harper saw her in the cove that morning. What was she doing out there so early?”

“This is all pure guesswork. You don’t have a shred of evidence.”

“You’re right,” Matt agreed. “But don’t you think it’s worth looking into? I mean if Bryan was murdered, and Ella didn’t do it then somebody else did.”

He didn’t mention to Baxter the scene he’d witnessed outside the post office, the looks Ella and Kate had exchanged, which continued to sit uncomfortably at the back of his mind.

“Call it instinct,” he went on, ‘but when I talked to Kate I had the feeling she was lying. And now today with Osborne, I had the same feeling.”

Baxter stared at him. “I’ll look into it,” he said at length, but from the way he said it Matt doubted that Baxter would do a thing.

Howard paused as he fastened the buttons on his shirt. He looked out of the window of his and Angela’s bedroom, and caught a glimpse of the sea. There were boats all over the place, like handfuls of toys thrown down in the gulf.

“Dammit,” he muttered sourly.

“What is it?” Angela asked absently as she went by. Her nightgown made a silky rustling sound, and a waft of scent lingered in her wake.

“Look at that. Those damn fish are all anybody seems to be thinking about.”

Angela gave him a puzzled look. “That’s because they’re worth a lot of money, Howard.”

He knew that, for chrissakes! The point was it seemed as if everybody had forgotten about Ella all of a sudden. And Howard didn’t want them to forget. Not yet. It was as if the whole damn town had gone crazy. A couple of fish had been caught the day before. Not as big as the one Ella had landed, but still worth a lot of money, and enough to fuel the fever that had gripped the island. Several large schools had been spotted, and there were reports coming in of more sightings up and down the coast of Maine and into Massachusetts as far as the Cape.

Angela asked Howard if he wanted breakfast. He stared at her, and saw that she didn’t have any idea what he was going through. His whole life, and hers too, rested on him winning this election. He hadn’t told her the extent of their commitment to his development plans. He’d already sunk a lot of money into studies and investment portfolios and buying up land and property that if this all worked out would quadruple in value. He was stretched. It was true that right now Ella didn’t have a hope of winning the election, but this was no time for taking chances. He couldn’t let people forget.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, and he grabbed his jacket and went downstairs.

It was almost noon when Baxter saw Howard coming straight at him along the sidewalk, and looked for a place to duck for cover, but it was too late, Howard had already seen him and called out.

“Chief. How’re things?” Howard beamed. He was sweating heavily, and he looked pale. “How about this heat? I was just going to get a coke. You got a minute? Come on, we can sit there in the shade.”

Baxter found himself propelled against his will to the soda stand at the front of Keller’s store, and Howard pressed a coke into his hand and led him to sit on the low wall in the shade of a maple across from the muddy beach at the far north end of the dock.

Howard mopped his brow with a handkerchief he took out of his jacket pocket. He was wearing a light fawn suit that was rumpled and a little grimy. He looked like a man fighting to keep up appearances and losing the battle. Baxter thought of him as somebody who was always trying to get somewhere other than the place he was, and wherever he was aiming for it was an uphill slog under a hot midday sun. One of these days the strain was going to kill him, Baxter thought.

“So what’s happening, Chief?” Howard said. “I guess you must be pretty busy right now.”

The harbour was empty, not a boat in sight. They had all left before dawn. Baxter and his men had been kept busy the night before. A lot of the visitors had been up most of the night drinking and having a good time. There was a kind of festive air among some of them who were here for the sport and the thrill as much as anything else. But for the local fishermen the bluefin were a serious business, a chance to alleviate their financial problems for a while at least, and they resented the influx of a bunch of amateurs fishing in waters they regarded as their own. They liked even less the arrival of fishermen from other harbours, who were a greater threat as they stood a greater chance of actually catching a fish. Tensions were running high.

All along the waterfront and through the town the stores and bars and restaurants were waking up. Doors and windows were opened, rubbish collected into piles, boxes of supplies opened up. The town moved with a kind of sluggish torpor, as if suffering from a collective hangover. Rooms were being rented for astronomical rates, prices everywhere were hiked. There were accusations of dirty tricks between people who ran businesses who suddenly considered themselves rivals. The police department was being run ragged trying to keep the peace. Howard was right, Baxter reflected. He was pretty busy right now.

“I guess you don’t need any more problems, like with this business about Bryan. How about you having to let Ella go?” Howard shook his head as if in amazement. “Lawyers, huh? That Matt Jones, how about him? Comes over here and runs rings around us country folk.”

Baxter sipped at his coke. Though he didn’t have a hell of a lot of time for Howard, the cold drink was welcome. Later on the bars would be full. Fights would break out. Inwardly he sighed. Howard was right again, he really could have done without having to deal with a murder as well.

“Didn’t I see Matt Jones coming out of your office yesterday?” Howard said. “What was he doing? Poking his nose in again I bet.”

Baxter allowed his mind to wander a little. He didn’t mind keeping Howard waiting a while. The thing was, Baxter couldn’t remember a time when Howard had ever given him much more than a cursory hello if they met in the street. He sure as hell hadn’t ever wanted to buy him a coke before. Baxter guessed he ought to feel offended that Howard obviously thought he was stupid, that he couldn’t see what he was trying to do, but Baxter wasn’t an easy person to offend. His passions were generally slow to be aroused. That was probably why he’d never really gotten anywhere in his life, and why he probably never would. He simply lacked ambition. He didn’t want to be better than anyone else, and he didn’t need much more than he already had, which was a pretty nice house and a boat for fishing at weekends and a truck that was all paid for.

He loved the sea, and he liked to get out on the water when he could. From where he lived he could look out on a stretch of the gulf south of the island, and on a clear day he could see the coast of Maine. It gave him a good feeling. There was nothing much more he’d ever wanted. Except that sometimes he felt a little lonely, living by himself.

“Nothing else happened has it?” Howard said, sounding as if he was becoming impatient.

“Not that I know about.”

“You haven’t found Jerrod Gant then I guess.”

Baxter looked at him, wondering just how much Howard knew about that. When he’d turned up at the courthouse yesterday Howard had seemed to know a lot about what Gant had seen.

“You know what,” Howard said. “Matt Jones could end up making us all look like idiots out here. A man sees Ella Young commit a murder, and what do we do? We let her just walk free. I mean I’m not blaming you Chief, there wasn’t anything you could do about it. That Jones fella, he’s been doing this kind of thing all his life. Getting criminals off. City lawyers. You didn’t stand a chance against someone like that.”

“He used to be a prosecutor,” Baxter pointed out.

“Well, whatever, it’s the same thing when you get down to it.”

Baxter finished his coke and put the can down on the wall. “I guess I should get on.”

Howard got up as well. “I’ll walk with you. You know, I was thinking, maybe you ought to call in the state police anyway.”

Baxter stopped. Judge Walker gave it a week. Until after the election,” he said pointedly. “Maybe Gant will show up by then.”

“Judge Walker doesn’t have any more experience of this kind of thing than the rest of us. Hell, when was the last time we had a murder on the island?”

“Suspected murder. We still don’t know for sure what happened to Bryan.”

“Jesus, Chief, you’re starting to sound like Matt Jones yourself. We all know Bryan’s dead. All I’m saying is let the state boys take over. Who the hell said we ought to let some Boston lawyer call the shots around here? You don’t want him to make you look like some hick hayseed do you? Get the state boys in now, that’s my advice, let them figure this out.”

“How come you’re so interested in this anyway?” Baxter asked.

“Listen, I’m just trying to do you a favour.”

Right, Baxter thought, and the Pope isn’t a Catholic.

“You have a boat don’t you, Dave?” Howard said suddenly.

Yep.”

“I thought you did. I’ve seen you rowing out to it in the harbour. Me, if I had a boat, I’d want to keep it in a marina if there was one around here. Imagine that? A dock of your own, maybe close to a nice little place with tables right by the water where you could sit and have a beer. Some pretty girl serving you. That’d be something wouldn’t it?” Howard let his question hang, then clamped a hand on Baxter’s shoulder. “Anyhow, you think about what I said, okay?”

“I’ll do that,” Baxter replied enigmatically.

Howard frowned a little, then decided to interpret Baxter’s answer favourably and smiled. “You have a good day.”

Baxter watch him walk away. He would have liked to think that there was no way in this wide world he was going to think about anything that Howard said, but the fact was he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was true. It bothered him that Matt kept trying to drag Kate Little into this Bryan thing. Baxter thought about Kate for a while. The kind of sad look she sometimes wore when she appeared to be gazing into some distance only she could see. Howard was just a small figure along the dock now.

Baxter looked up at the sky, and wiped his brow. It sure as hell was hot. Along the street the blacktop was melting. Sticky pools shimmered wetly and the signs above the stores wavered like images from a mirage.

The final meeting before the election had been scheduled for seven p.m. on Saturday. Outside the council building Matt passed Howard Larson who was engrossed in furtive conversation with a grizzled old guy wearing a faded Hawaiian shirt. Howard saw him, and stopped talking, then guided the old guy by the arm into a recess by the steps where they resumed their conversation.

Matt was there fifteen minutes early, but it was already apparent that the turnout was going to be low. The chamber was barely a third full, and the square outside was deserted. He joined Ella and George Gould, both of whom were trying unsuccessfully to remain optimistic.

“Hi, I’m glad you came,” Ella said. She smiled and her hand rested briefly on his arm and even after she withdrew it Matt could feel the place where it had been. Despite the evidence of strain around her eyes, the not-quite-so-bright smile, Matt thought she looked pretty good considering what she had been through lately. She wore jeans and a faded blue shirt and her hair was tied back away from her face. He couldn’t take his eye off the small hollow in her neck beneath her ear lobe. He wondered what it would be like to place his lips there and inhale her scent as he kissed her. She caught his eye and gave him a quizzical look.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about something.”

A faint flush of colour rose above the collar of her shirt, as if she had discerned from his gaze something of the nature of his thoughts.

“Any sign of Jerrod Gant yet?” she asked.

“Nothing yet.”

“Better get up there Ella,” George said, indicating the small stage where half a dozen chairs had been placed alongside the podium. Howard Larson was already taking his place. He looked relaxed in dark coloured pants and a pale jacket even though the jacket looked to be tight around the arms and it had probably been a long time since the buttons had ever joined in the middle. He smiled and chatted to his supporters.

“Wish me luck,” Ella said.

Matt took her hand and squeezed it. “Knock ‘em dead.”

She returned the pressure of his hand, then the chamber gradually fell quiet, and as the last murmurs faded, Joanna Thompson addressed those gathered. She talked about how this was the last opportunity for an open debate before the vote, and she made a joke about the poor turnout.

“I can’t imagine where everybody is,” she said with deliberately false ingenuousness.

There were polite chuckles among those gathered. Matt cast his eye over them. There wasn’t a fisherman among them. In fact the audience was made up mostly of people who were too old to either go chasing bluefin themselves or to cash in on their sudden appearance in other ways. The majority of the townsfolk were either running restaurants and bars, overcharging visitors outrageously, or else they were working extra shifts as waitresses and bartenders. The stores were all open late, their windows full of signs announcing ‘specials’. Someone had printed up T-shirts with a picture of a leaping bluefin on the front, bearing the legend “St. George. I Was There’. They were selling from a stall on the sidewalk for fifteen dollars apiece which had provoked a heated exchange with a nearby store owner who had his own stock of T-shirts to sell. The two men had come to blows and one of them had suffered a broken finger, the other had smashed the front door to his own store when he had fallen through it.