Chapter 16

“Get out of town,” I said as a small dinghy made its way to the water’s edge.

“Surprise,” said Peter. He was wearing a tuxedo, of all things, in a dinghy. “You’re a vision. Last time I saw you, I remember leaves in your hair and a little dirt on your cheek.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I said. I was happy to see that Peter had not compromised his afternoon’s fly-by-the-seat-of-his pants look. His tuxedo pants were shoved into rubber boots, and his bow tie was a red bandana.

“I heard you were working the Melville tonight,” he said, shutting off his motor. “I called your cousin Liz. My luck I should find you standing here when I pulled up.”

He smiled like he had been very, very clever and I smiled back. It was so awesome that this outfit would not go to waste after all. I’d have to thank Liz for giving Peter her card.

“Champagne?” he said, raising a bottle and jumping out of his boat. He tied the dinghy to a rock, flipped off his jacket, and laid it on my shoulders without my having to ask.

“Ha,” I said about the champagne. “I haven’t eaten since Andy and I were at The Bean at about ten this morning. One glass of champagne and I’ll faint.”

“No worries,” said Peter. He jumped back into his boat and pulled out a picnic basket.

“My hero,” I said.

“Really? Even after this afternoon’s kerfuffle?”

“Did you just say kerfuffle?”

“I did,” he said and laid a blanket on the ground.

I pulled his jacket around me as Peter laid out a platter of cheese and bread and meats that made my stomach leap for joy. I tried to join him on the ground as elegantly as possible. In the end, I did no justice to my couture. I had to hike my skirt to my thighs before I could bend my knees.

“So much for being a movie star,” I said, settling down next him. “My outfit, by the way, is compliments of Gina Ginelli.”

“Come on,” said Peter, handing me a cracker with a glob of brie on it that was to die for. I swallowed it whole.

“She’s pretty nice, actually,” I said. “My dress didn’t show up tonight. She’d stopped by the inn and heard me complaining. Then she offered me something to wear.”

“Pretty fancy dress for someone holed up here to work,” said Peter. “I wonder if there’s a big party going down this weekend that she’s planning to attend.”

“Better than the Sterling wedding or a FIGAWI bash? I doubt it,” I said. “She blamed her fancy packing job on the fact that she’s a diva.”

“She doesn’t sound like one,” he said. “That’s a nice outfit to loan out.”

“True,” I said, admiring the appliqued flowers across the bodice of my top as I shoved a piece of prosciutto into my mouth. I reached for a piece of Morbier cheese, starting to feel like myself again. Peter noticed I was going for it with his basket of goodies. He handed me his cracker and cheese. “Thanks.” I popped it in my mouth and then lay back on the ground.

Peter leaned back beside me, his hands behind his head as he looked at the starry sky.

“What do you think about this murder?” he said. “I’m a good investigator, you know. Not, maybe, like your friend Andy. But I get on to something and follow it. Give me a lead that seems like nothing. You’ll be amazed with what I can do with it.”

“A lead, huh?” I said.

I thought of Gina crying on the roof. Of Joe disappearing during the day. Of Mrs. Sterling’s interest in Maria Blane. I even thought about the fact that someone like Simon Sterling had a cat. I toyed with telling Peter about the note I’d found in Gina’s purse, but then decided not to. I didn’t want him to write about her, especially since it would connect her to the murdered man.

“Yup. Something totally random. I’ll follow it and see where it takes us.”

I tried to think of the most arbitrary angle of all that I’d seen today.

“OK,” I finally said. “There was an elderly couple and a young family staying at the inn when we found the body this morning. Maybe they saw something. Maybe with Bill’s quick arrest, they weren’t questioned as well as they could have been.”

“Sounds like a wild goose chase,” he said, “but I’ll take the challenge.”

“And who benefits from Simon’s will?”

“Now you’re thinking,” he said.

“Thank you, Watson,” I said.

“Wait, you get to be Sherlock?” he said. He leaned his head on his elbow and looked at me. “How does a pipe and a deerstalker hat go with your look?”

“Perfectly,” I said.

My phone pinged. It was Emily.

How are the new unity candles going?

I looked at the time. Ten o’clock.

“Being a power babe is not easy,” I said. “I have to make four new unity candles tonight.”

“Foiled again,” said Peter. “I was planning to lure you out on my yacht.”

I looked at his dinghy, which was bobbing with gusto in the night’s waters, and I was tempted to join him on a trip across the harbor, back to town. Then, I rubbed my cheese-filled stomach and wondered how I’d feel after the ten-minute voyage. As lovely as the invitation was, I realized I had another option.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I have enough supplies up at the inn to get my job done. I’ll get more sleep if I knock things out here, then take the launch back in the morning.”

I reached my hand up to straighten Peter’s bow tie. He took my hand and kissed it. If I wasn’t so worried about the candles, I suspected we could have had a lot of fun under the moonlight in our fancy attire.

“You do what you have to do,” said Peter. “We have all summer to enjoy my yacht.”

“I like the way you think,” I said as he helped me to my feet.

I handed his jacket back to him.

“Thanks for this,” I said. “Nantucket is lucky to have you here.”

“I’m feeling pretty lucky to have found this little island.”

Before I could say another word, he jumped in his dinghy, gave me a salute, and pulled back out into the darkness. I wondered if he’d head home or into town. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who went to bed by ten on a Friday night.

I watched him travel across the harbor. I was beginning to notice I was cold when the quiet was broken by the sound of a speeding motorboat that suddenly flew by Peter without any lights on. In the moonlight, I tried to make out the driver, but all I caught was the silhouette of a woman’s ponytail. Peter’s boat began to rock in the wake. He made a few salty comments into the dark, but kept his course.

I, on the other hand, headed back to the inn, already beginning to imagine my new creations. Just the thought of sitting down with my candles gave me a sense of comfort I had missed all day. Entering the back of Ahab’s as the restaurant staff was putting the last of the party’s mess away, I entered the staging room, which would now be my workshop. The crew had returned some of the candles we used tonight. Most were still tall with a lot of wick left in them. I made a note to drop them at the food pantry. I was no chef, but I liked to make their Friday night dinners more festive when I could.

Before the last of the kitchen staff left, I borrowed a lazy Susan so that I could turn the candles as I decorated them without handling them. Then, I searched through my supplies for the four unity candles I would need. I was relieved I had brought extras. I had also brought extra gold and silver decorative wax that was the equivalent of piping icing on a cake. It was soft and malleable when warmed so that I could apply designs to the candles.

I hadn’t bargained on one thing, however. Looking over my supplies again, I realized I only had three extra candles, not the four I needed for the new unity candle. I looked again, sure I’d brought enough extras, but no. There were only three. It occurred to me that someone from the kitchen could have easily taken an extra, having no idea I’d need it. Or perhaps Jessica gave a friend another one. Normally, I’d be flattered, but right now, I felt downright horrified. It was getting to be close to eleven at night and I was stuck on the other end of the island, minus a candle.

Desperately, I called a couple of taxi companies to see if I could get a lift home. All gave me a pickup time of at least forty minutes. With this time frame, I’d be working until dawn. I was about to agree to a ride when I had a thought. I had put a candle in Uncle Simon’s room. Technically, the room was cordoned off, still a crime scene, but Simon wouldn’t be needing that candle.

I couldn’t. Could I?