Stiff in the Sand Page 4

  “You make a habit of walking alone on the beach in the dark?” Joe asked, brows lifting.

  “Detective, I apologize for my daughter’s attitude, and she ought to know better, having studied Criminal Justice,” Dad muttered in a gruff voice. “But certainly, she can’t be blamed for walking along the beach.”

  “When she was supposed to be working?” Joe countered, one corner of his generous mouth screwing up in a smirk. “I’ll grant you that one. But what about her fingerprints on the murder weapon?”

  “Her what on the what now?” Dad turned in his chair, facing me head-on. “What is he saying?”

  “Not a bright move for a Criminal Justice major,” Joe muttered under his breath.

  “Minor,” I corrected before answering Dad. “It was just one of those things. I know it didn’t make any sense, but I thought maybe I could help him. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You touched the murder weapon? You know better than that!”

  “Is this not the first time you’ve been in the presence of a murder weapon?” Joe asked. I thought he might’ve been amused by this, but he wasn’t smiling.

  “I’ve taught her better,” Dad growled. “We’ve talked about analyzing crime scenes since she was a little girl.”

  “Sounds like a happy childhood,” Joe observed.

  “Detective—” Dad was halfway out of his seat. I tugged on his sleeve and shook my head. It wasn’t worth it.

  I turned back to the detective then. “You know, there are plenty of other people you might want to be talking to right now, rather than wasting time being snarky toward an innocent person.”

  “Snarky?” Joe snickered. “Who should I be talking to, in your learned opinion?” He leaned back in his chair, grinning.

  “Try everybody who works in the kitchen, for one thing. There was a big blow-up in there not ten minutes before I tripped over James’s body. He was screaming at the sous chef, making a big deal out of a few empty platters in the dining room. Robbie said he could be heard out there, among the guests.”

  “Robbie?” A brow lifted.

  “You know who I mean. The sous chef was probably humiliated by that. And Robbie warned James to mind his business and stay out of the kitchen. James stormed away. Anybody could’ve followed him.”

  “Somebody did,” Joe agreed. “And they just so happened to sink one of Chef Robert Klein’s signature engraved knives into his chest. Right after, as you just told me, Chef Robert warned Mr. Flynn to mind his business.”

  Oh, no. My heart sank when I realized I’d basically just set the scene for Robbie to have murdered James. Dad whispered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a swear word.

  “I would suggest you don’t leave town, Miss Harmon,” Detective Joe warned as he stood. “I’ll most likely be calling tomorrow to have you return for more questioning.”

  “More?” I asked. “I can’t stay in town. I’m not from here. I live in Cape Hope, I hadn’t intended to spend the night. It’s not like my job will pay for this.”

  He lifted his broad shoulders. “That isn’t my problem, is it? Not when your fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”

  Dad took my arm. “I’ll put you up for the night, doll. You don’t have to worry about it.”

  I still had so many questions, protestations. Not to mention wanting to tell Detective Joe where he could get off with his snarky comments. But Dad made a point of pulling me out of my chair and leading me out of the room before I could say anything to further embarrass myself.

  Meanwhile, to my surprise—it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, not really—Deke emerged from the next room over, and the young woman who followed him was carrying a clipboard like Joe’s. Of course, they’d want to walk to Deke, since he was the one who found me finding James.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, looking from Dad to me.

  Dad only snorted his response.

  “Define okay,” I whispered. “No, I don’t think so. I think they really believe I had something to do with it.”

  “Don’t say that,” Dad warned. “Let’s get out of here. The walls always have ears.”

  “Remember!” Joe called out behind us. “Stay in town, Emma. I’ll want to talk to you again.”

  “Lucky me,” I whispered as Dad steered me from the station with Deke bringing up the rear.

  “You could’ve done better in there, sweetheart.” Dad was fit to be tied, and probably only Deke’s presence kept him from chewing me out. I never thought I’d be glad to have an obnoxious photographer around.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. My mouth got away from me. But honestly, I didn’t do it. I didn’t even have a drop of blood on me, and there was no motive. James seemed like a real jerk, but I didn’t have any reason to kill him.”

  “No, but…” He glanced at Deke and decided to hold his tongue. “We’d better get you a room for the night. I know how these guys work. He’ll probably want you back first thing in the morning after getting forensics reports.”

  “I have a room in town,” Deke offered. “Not that I intended to share, mind you, but I’ll be here. In case you need any moral support.” He handed me a business card, and I wondered how many people still carried them. That was the second one I’d seen that night.

  I accepted it gratefully anyway. “Thank you. I’ll call you in the morning, for sure.” Maybe he wasn’t the most terrible person in the world, especially if he’d defended me to the police. I hoped he did.

  He’d better have.

  “Oh! Your jacket!” I dashed after him, sliding it from my shoulders. “Thank you again.”

  He took it with that same boyish, sheepish smile I’d seen earlier in the night. “No problem. Try to get some sleep tonight, okay? It’ll be all right. Everything will.”

  I wondered what made him such an expert and decided not to ask. It would be better to believe without asking.

  “Emma?” Dad was waiting, hands thrust into his jacket pockets. He eyed Deke with roughly the same level of suspicion a canary would give a cat. I hurried back to him and accepted the arm he wrapped around my shoulders in a protective manner.

  I finally felt safe, for the first time all night.

  What a shame it wouldn’t last forever.

  Chapter Seven

  It was the knocking that woke me up. The incessant pounding, like the person on the other side of the door would break it down if I didn’t open up.

  What time was it? I fumbled around for my phone but couldn’t find it in the mess that was my bed. I hadn’t had a restful night, to put it mildly.

  “Em! It’s me. Open up before I have the hotel do it!”

  Raina’s voice finally worked its way through my awareness. Raina! What was she doing there? Only curiosity could’ve gotten me out of bed in the middle of the night.

  Only it wasn’t the middle of the night. I had drawn the drapes before collapsing into bed, but light managed to sneak through around the edges. And my best friend was going to get me thrown out of the hotel if she didn’t stop making a commotion out in the hall.

  “Hang on!” I managed to call out as I scrambled up and across the room with a sheet wrapped around my underwear-clad body.

  She burst in like a breath of spring, but that was always her way. She managed to light up any room she entered. “This is an absolute outrage,” she announced as she threw open the curtains. “How anybody could even associate you with the word murder is beyond me. If you didn’t murder Landon—or at least cut off something vital—why would you murder a perfect stranger?”

  I could hardly remember filling her in on any of the details, but I guessed I must have. “I suppose they’ll have it pretty much figured out by now. They must. Right?” I stopped short of crawling back into bed, settling for sitting with a pillow held tight in my arms and wishing my head was on it and I was sleeping.

  This was quite a reversal. Usually, Raina was the one getting dragged out of sleep by me.

  She whirled on me, dark hair
swinging over her shoulders. “I brought reinforcements.” She dumped a bag onto the bed, sending clothes and toiletries pouring out.

  “Bless you,” I groaned. “I was wondering what I was supposed to do today. I don’t think a second visit to the police station classifies as a Little Black Dress occasion.”

  “A waste of time.” She flopped into an armchair, crossing her legs while removing her sunglasses. She might just as easily have flown in from Milan or Paris, she was so effortlessly chic.

  “Speaking of a waste of time, I can’t believe you drove all the way down from Manhattan!”

  “That was not a waste, my dear. Not when my best friend is a murder suspect.”

  “I don’t think I’m a suspect. Not really. But maybe. I don’t know.” I held my head in my hands, sure it would pop off if I didn’t keep it in place. “I can’t stop thinking of that man’s eyes, staring. Wide open. And the blood. He was just alive, you know? Like only a few minutes earlier. I saw him, I heard him.”

  “Heard him fighting with First Kiss Robbie.”

  “Please, let’s not call him that right now. I’ll probably be talking about him with Detective Joe and don’t wanna slip up. He already thinks I’m ridiculous.”

  “He should stop wasting time with you, then, if that’s what he thinks.”

  “I found the body. I touched the handle of the knife. Of course, he’s going to want to talk to me. I need to put my criminal justice hat on and think it through from his perspective.”

  “First, I think you need to shower and dress and come out with me for some breakfast and coffee. You’ll think better on a full stomach. You always do.” Years of being college roommates and best friends gave her that level of insight.

  I did as I was told, since it was easier to follow instructions in situations like this. Poor Robbie. After all that hard work and all his dreams, it had fallen apart like this. He had to be devastated. What would become of their big project with one of the major players in the morgue?

  He hadn’t done it. He couldn’t have. Robbie didn’t possess a violent bone. Not even a violent blood cell. He was one of the kindest, sweetest people in the world.

  He didn’t sound so kind or sweet last night. I paused in the act of shampooing my hair, staring at the tile wall in front of me. That was true, wasn’t it? Well, he needed to know when to bring the hammer down, and James had been sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

  How often had that been the case? And how tired might Robbie have been of his business partner’s interference?

  I couldn’t believe it. Was I honestly making a case in my head for Robbie being the murderer? First Kiss Robbie?

  I dipped beneath the hot, steamy spray and pushed these thoughts away. There had to be another explanation. I willed the water to wash away my doubts and send them down the drain.

  If only it were that simple.

  By the time I finished washing, drying and dressing, I’d missed three phone calls.

  “It’s your mom,” Raina murmured, her hand over the microphone. “I didn’t want to pick up but she keeps calling.”

  I drew a deep breath and braced myself before holding out my hand. I got no further than, “Mom?” before the tirade began.

  “How could they think you would be responsible for a murder?” she demanded. “Who are these chuckleheads? Did they even attend the academy?”

  “Mom—”

  “Your father called and told me, and let me tell you that was not an easy conversation.”

  “Mom?”

  “And I heard her talking in the background as if she has any say in any of this, as if she even deserves to speak your name or feign concern.”

  “Mom!” I finally had to raise my voice. “I’m okay. I don’t think they suspect me, I really don’t.” I held up my crossed fingers with a shrug, and Raina merely shook her head with a look of disapproval. Not because I was sorta-kinda lying to my mom, but because she didn’t approve of anybody considering me a murder suspect. “This is all very confusing and I’ll probably hear more about it today, and I promise I’ll keep you posted.”

  “That vile detective will allow you to come home, won’t he?”

  I bit my lip. That, I couldn’t lie about so easily. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I have to talk to him, don’t I? At most, I’m a person of interest. So long as I promise not to leave the state, I should be good.” Now I was pulling things out of thin air. Anything to calm her down. It sounded reasonable enough.

  “You need to be home at a time like this.”

  “I heartily agree. But Raina’s here, she brought me clothes and whatnot, and we’re going to get breakfast now. I’ll keep you posted, like I said. I promise.”

  Just before we ended the call, something occurred to me. “Mom! Hang on. I need your promise. Your heartfelt, absolute, hundred-percent promise.”

  “Anything, honey. You know that.”

  “Don’t breathe a word of this to anybody else. Darcy, okay. But that’s it. Nobody. I don’t want to come back to town and face a thousand questions. You know how people can be.”

  Mom sniffed. “Emma Harmon, sometimes I think you have no faith in me.”

  I let that one slide. Raina was giggling by the time I tossed the phone aside. “She’s a piece of work. I love her.”

  “Me, too,” I muttered with a roll of my eyes. “Come on. There’s a cup of coffee somewhere with my name on it. A very large, very strong cup.”

  We didn’t get more than ten feet down the hall before my phone rang yet again. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was local to the area. “Looks like we might have to put a hold on breakfast,” I whispered before answering.

  Chapter Eight

  “This is absolutely ridiculous. Emma ought to have her lawyer here if you’re going to question her like she’s a common criminal.”

  Joe blinked, looking from Raina to me. “Who’s this again?”

  “A friend of mine. She came down when she heard what happened.”

  “And brought clothes,” he noted as he looked over his notes. “A shame. That was a cute dress.”

  “Funny,” I murmured, though I couldn’t help wondering if he was making fun of me or actually complimenting my outfit from the night before. I then noticed that he was wearing the same burgundy shirt and grey tie as he’d worn when we first spoke. I softened, but only slightly.

  He looked up at Raina with a sigh. “If Miss Harmon needed her lawyer, I would let her know. At this time, she is a person of interest in the case. We aren’t charging her with anything. If at any point she feels uncomfortable with the direction the questions take, she has every right to request a lawyer. Does that satisfy you, Miss…?”

  “Delancey. Raina Delancey.”

  He smirked. “Sure. Delancey. The Manhattan real estate family.”

  “We were, once,” she allowed. “My father sold his interests years ago.”

  “I’m sure that was plenty of interest,” he observed, and I practically heard the wheels turning in his head as he took in the designer sunglasses perched on top of her head, the Birkin bag, the cashmere shawl draped around her shoulders.

  He would be making a mistake if he wrote her off as an airheaded, spoiled rich kid. She had more smarts in her pinky than most people had in their whole body.

  “I think we were talking about the case?” I asked, steering things back to me. It wasn’t eagerness to solve the case that drove me. It was an empty stomach.

  Joe cleared his throat. “Right. The initial reports came in overnight. A single blow, straight to the heart. Killed him instantly. No time to scream or fight back. Whoever did this was no stranger. Or, if they were, they did not give the appearance of having an intent to harm Mr. Flynn.”

  “What makes you say that?” Raina asked.

  I answered. “Because whoever it was got close enough to pull a knife and sink it into his chest without him fighting back first.”

  The roo
m fell silent.

  Gulp. I glanced at Joe with a shrug. “I would assume, anyway.”

  His eyes narrowed as he regarded me. “Yes. That is the theory we’re working with. Interesting, the way it fell from your lips without any effort.”

  “It’s common sense. Besides, I—”

  “Studied Criminal Justice and spent evening suppers discussing the grisly details of your father’s cases. I know, I know.” He shook his head as he looked over his notes. “Help me work out a timeline, if you would. From what I can tell so far, you’re the only person who both witnessed the fight in the kitchen and stumbled over the body. Try to be as specific as you can. How much time passed between the fight and your walk along the beach?”

  Dang it. I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths to center myself. I hadn’t been paying attention to the time while in the moment. After all, how was I supposed to know James would end up dead and therefore everything would be considered important later on?

  “Let’s see. I slipped out of the kitchen—”

  “Slipped out?”

  I frowned, opening one eye. “Yes. I wasn’t exactly trying to let everybody know I overheard what went on.”

  “So, wait. You were hiding in the kitchen?”

  “No. I mean. Not really. I went in because I was following James Flynn, trying to get a few words with him for my article. By the time I caught up with him, he was already on a tirade. I was embarrassed for everybody in the kitchen and knew I shouldn’t technically be listening, so…”

  “Instead of leaving the kitchen, you hid.”

  I sighed, eyes wide open now. “You asked me to give you a timeline, right? I’m trying to. Yes, I’m a Very Bad Girl for listening when I should’ve ducked out. I’ll write it out fifty times if it makes you feel better.”

  He scowled. “Go on.”

  I closed my eyes again. “Anyway. He was yelling and berating the sous chef and generally everybody else along with him. Robb—Chef Robert came in and told everybody to get back to work. I took it as him sticking up for his people. He didn’t want James—”

  “Please, spare me the analysis of motive,” Joe warned. “I’m not interested in that. I want the timing. What happened next?”