Macramé Murder

“So you rescued Cora last night?” Jane said to Tom.

Tom nodded. “Yes, we were monitoring the situation.”

“Why were people in her room?” Jane asked.

“They think she is on to them,” he replied. “They were searching her computer files.”

“And they found nothing,” Cora replied. “I remember hearing that. And something else . . . a man was going to be angry with them if they didn’t find anything.”

Tom nodded. “Makes sense. One of the two guys who were just here has been behind this.”

“You mean there was a killer in this room just now?” Jane said, in a rushed whisper.

“No, not necessarily,” Tom said. “We think he was behind it all. He didn’t necessarily commit the murders. He may have ordered them.”

“Like, like . . . a mafia dude?” Jane said, her eyes wide.

“Precisely,” Tom said. “Though we don’t use that word. But there is definitely organized crime behind it all.”

Jane’s eyes shot back and forth between Cora and Tom. “We should tell Cashel. He’s worried sick. He is Adrian’s lawyer.”

“The less people who know, the better,” Tom said. “The more you know, the more at risk you are.”

Cora understood, but she did think Cashel should be informed. He was haggard and blaming himself for much of what was happening. It didn’t seem right to keep Adrian’s whereabouts from him.

“So, both Cora and Cashel were drugged,” Jane said out loud, but more to herself. “Cashel because he knew too much, or was getting too close to the truth, and Cora because the criminals suspected she knew something. Why? What did you do yesterday that would lead them to believe that?”

Cora thought for a moment. “I was in the situation room a lot yesterday. I was musing a bit about who the killers could be.”

“What names did you mention?” Jane asked.

“We talked about Mathilde and crossed her off our list. We talked about Josh, Rue’s son, and we talked about Hank and the fact that Rue and Hank seemed to be together or something,” Cora said.

“The police are still rounding up suspects,” Tom said. “They are going to ask you to identify them.”

“I can do that,” Cora said. “I know they were in my room. I recognized their voices.”

“Who was it?” Tom asked.

“Rue and Hank,” Cora replied.

“What?” Jane squealed and clutched her chest. “I can’t believe it!”

“Excuse me,” he said. “I need to call this in.”

Cora and Jane sat quietly, letting it sink in that Rue and Hank had broken in to her room and in all likelihood had drugged her.

“But what happens to you if you identify them?” Jane asked, after a few moments. “I don’t like this.”

“If she says she can’t identify them, we think she’ll be safer,” Tom said. “She’s given the FBI what it needs. Right now, we are the only trusted law officers on this island.”

“You think she’ll be safer?” Jane said.

“But why would I not identify them to the local cops?” Cora asked. “They were in my room. They need to pay for what they’ve done. How dare they?”

“They were in your room searching for evidence for their boss,” Tom said. “If you identify them, a number of things could happen.”

“They could off you for knowing too much,” Jane said, with her eyes wide.

“C’mon. How is that knowing too much?” Cora said. “I don’t know who their boss is. I don’t know anything. I know they broke into my room.”

“How did they manage it?” Jane said, after a moment.

“Well, Hank lives there. He may have gotten hold of a key or something,” Cora said.

“What happens if she doesn’t identify them to the locals? How does it help the case? Or not?” Jane asked after a pause in the conversation.

“We then would watch them to see who they contact, who they visit, and so on. They might lead us right to our guy,” Tom said.

“I don’t think I like this,” Jane said.

“It’s up to you what you tell the police, but I think it would be best to tell them you don’t remember anything,” Tom said, with a finality in his voice leading Cora to feel certain not to argue.

“I don’t want to lie to the cops,” she said. “That could come back on me.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got you covered. We have an officer on the inside.”

“Well, you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Cora said.

“We don’t want them to know how you were rescued last night either. So, you should say, once again, you don’t remember anything,” Tom said.

Cora hated all this lying. But she had to trust someone—and this man was FBI. He had Adrian in his protection, and he had rescued her last night.

“So this is kind of a sting?” Cora said.

Tom laughed. “No. It’s us doing our job.”

“So you have a guy inside the local police force, so that means you think . . .”

“Our drug runner is a cop. But we need to make certain. It could get very messy. We’re proceeding with caution, of course,” Tom said.

Cora marveled at his friendly ease. He seemed like a different man than the one she first met as Zooey’s assistant.

“I’ve lost Zooey and I don’t want to lose another person,” he said. “So caution is the order of the day.”

Cora’s head felt light and she drank more water. She felt hung over—she ached everywhere.

“As for you,” Tom said to Jane, “we’d like you to go back and go about your business. We’ve got Cora.”

“Oh no,” Jane said. “I’m not leaving.”

She crossed her arms and dug in. “Nope,” she said one more time. “Cora is my best friend. I’m not leaving her alone.”

“Then leave her with me,” came a voice from the hallway. Cashel O’Malley walked in with a swagger. “Do you need to get back?”

“No,” Jane said.

“How are you feeling?” Cashel asked, ignoring Tom’s presence in the room.

“Like hell,” Cora said.

“Cashel, this is Tom,” Jane said.

Cashel turned to Tom. “I know who he is,” he said. “I mean, what he is. Just took a bit of digging.”

Tom cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you think you know. . . .”

“I’ve a friend who used to work with you, so cut the drama,” Cashel said. “I’d like to know what the FBI is doing on Sea Glass Island and what you know about my client’s whereabouts. And I want to know that now or I will expose you immediately.”