As she came out of the Gazette office, Annie glanced across Main Street at Parotti’s Bar and Grill. Darlene Hopper might be at work. Was it worthwhile to try to talk to her? Darlene hadn’t been part of Jocelyn’s group of friends, and Billy Cameron was confident there hadn’t been time for Darlene to walk into the woods with Iris. Still, Darlene had been in that class, and she was among the handful of those who had been present at the pavilion Friday night and ten years ago. Maybe Henny could tell her something about Darlene.
Annie walked to the railing at the edge of the harbor, stood in the sun, and welcomed the breeze. She punched a familiar number on her cell.
After the fourth ring, a voice message announced: “For the next few days, I’ll be working at Death on Demand. Come by for coffee and conversation and pick up your copy of Sue Grafton’s latest. What’s up with her alphabet this time? See you soon.”
Annie’s smile was quick. She realized it was the first time she’d smiled that day. Thank you, Henny. She punched the bookstore number, still smiling.
“Death on Demand, the best mystery bookstore north of Miami. How may I help you?”
Annie loved Henny’s cultivated voice, which had reached to the back seats at so many little theater productions.
“Henny, you’re wonderful.”
“Thank you. It’s mutual. What’s up?”
Annie’s smile fled. “Darlene Hopper was in the same class as Iris and the others. She was a server Friday night and she was at the awards picnic ten years ago. Do you remember Darlene?”
“From school? Oh yes. I didn’t mention her this morning because she certainly wasn’t part of that group.” Henny paused, then murmured, “All God’s children.”
“All God’s children?”
Henny sighed. “I’d like to say that I always treated students equally. Sometimes it was difficult. I’m old enough to know there is a spark of divinity in every person. But,” her tone was rueful, “some people are adept at hiding every evidence of that. Darlene was uncooperative, bristling with anger, mean-spirited. And profoundly unhappy, of course. I thought highly of Jocelyn because she was kind to Darlene. Darlene adored Jocelyn. From a distance. Darlene never tried to be friends with Jocelyn, she just watched her. That would have worried a lot of people. It didn’t bother Jocelyn.” Henny’s tone was admiring. “Darlene was heart-broken when Jocelyn died. She didn’t finish school. She stayed on the island. A big family. Not a very nice family. She’s worked at the grocery and later at Parotti’s. Ben has a kind heart.”
Annie felt a chill. “She told Billy Cameron she didn’t pay any attention to Jocelyn at the sports awards picnic.”
Henny spoke quietly. “I doubt very much that she told Billy the truth.”
BRANCHES INTERLOCKED ABOVE THE BLACKTOPPED BIKE path. Ferns poked from scrubby undergrowth. Crows clamored. Max suspected the crows had sighted a fox. The somber, secluded pathway was in tune with Max’s thoughts. Jocelyn Howard was pregnant when she died. That changed everything.
The golf cart careened around a curve. Max slowed. This was no time to end up mired in the dank, green-scummed swamp water that bordered the path. It was another half mile to the cemetery. He wasn’t sure his idea would work out. First he needed to spot the grave site, then he could make a pitch to Billy. If Jocelyn’s body were disinterred, could a forensic pathologist determine the DNA of the fetus? Even if that wouldn’t be possible after all these years, the threat of DNA testing might be enough to scare a statement from Russell. If he wasn’t the father, he’d be eager to see that proved as well.
Jocelyn may have died because she demanded the father acknowledge the baby. Or she may have died because Iris told her the name of their classmate who provided the cocaine that killed Sam. There was only one certainty. Jocelyn was murdered. Iris’s death made it clear that Jocelyn did not jump or fall from the pier. Jocelyn was pushed.
The golf cart emerged from dimness. Ahead a dusty gray road led into the island cemetery. Markers dotted family plots lying among live oaks and palmettos. Birds chittered. Squirrels darted. A small weathered gray wooden building that served as the office was tucked among willows, not far from the marble-faced columbarium.
Max stopped the golf cart in front of the office. He swung out the wheelchair, opened it. He grimaced as he maneuvered himself into the seat. Damn, his feet hurt. But he was beginning to feel at ease with his new transport.
The office was shadowy inside. “Hello.” His call was met by silence. A small notice on the counter listed a telephone number and advised that the cemetery was open from dawn to dusk. An arrow pointed to an interactive screen for those seeking information about grave-site locations.
Max rolled nearer. He touched the icon for grave sites. A pop-up offered the alphabet. He tapped H. Names appeared. He scanned down to Howard, Jocelyn, C48. He returned to the desktop, touched the map icon.
He studied the map and let out a sigh. He’d had great hopes. Now they were ashes. C48 was a niche in the columbarium.
Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.
No one would ever prove the identity of the father of that long dead baby.
SEABIRDS CAWED. A BOLD CROW HOPPED NEAR THE GARBAGE pails. It was cool and shadowy in the alley behind Parotti’s. The smell of garbage mixed with the scent of the sea and the odor of hot cooking oil. Annie understood Henny’s murmured “All God’s children” as she stepped back a pace to avoid a stream of cigarette smoke. Darlene Hopper’s stare was sullen. A stripe of red blazed in her dark hair. Silver rings glinted from eyebrows, nose, ears, and lips. Purplish tattoos covered her plump arms from shoulders to wrists. Reddened hands from dishwashing emphasized the darkness of the tattoos.
“I know who you are.” Darlene’s tone wasn’t friendly. “I worked the food line Friday night.” She took a deep drag on the cigarette. “I wish I hadn’t left before you found Iris. That must have been exciting.”
Annie controlled a flare of anger. Was Darlene as callous as she sounded? Or was the sardonic remark thrown out to see if it rankled? “You knew Iris.”
Even Darlene’s fingers were tattooed with tracery of a spider’s web. Her shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “In school. She was a dork.”
This was not the time or the place to defend Iris. One day soon the spirit poster would be finished and Annie could push away all memory of Darlene’s meanness. For now, Annie forced herself to speak without animus. “You were at the sports picnic the night Jocelyn Howard died.”
Darlene’s hand, the half-smoked cigarette pinched between thumb and forefinger, stopped midway to her ring-pulled lips. “Jocelyn.” Her face softened. Her voice slid to a depth of sadness. “She was always wonderful to me. Until that night. I knew she went out with Russell. But that was what everybody expected. She was homecoming queen. He was a football star. But I never thought about them…not like that.” Her voice trailed away. “I wish I hadn’t run away from the picnic. Oh God, if only I hadn’t left. If I’d known what she was going to do, I’d have stayed with her, helped her. But she yelled at me and I ran away. I went home. I didn’t find out she was missing,” Darlene’s voice was dull, “until the next afternoon. I went to the pavilion and helped look. I walked through the woods, back and forth. We didn’t find her. She wasn’t in the woods. She was in the water.”
“She was your friend?” Annie tried to connect the elegant princess with Darlene.
“Friend?” It was as if Darlene repeated a word from an unknown language. She blinked at Annie. “I wasn’t one of Jocelyn’s friends. Everybody wanted to be her friend. Liz and Cara and Fran. Iris hung around them, but she didn’t count. And there were Sam’s friends, Buck and Russell. None of them were special like her. I always sat close to her.” Darlene’s voice was proud. “Hopper. Howard. We had English together and Spanish and history and math. Jocelyn smiled at me every day. She was beautiful, her hair, her face. Perfect. Like sunset on the water. Or the sky when it’s so blue it makes you ache inside. Our lockers were next to each other. Her locker always smelled good. Once I asked her what made the locker smell so nice, like a field after rain. She said it was sachet. I didn’t know what that was, but I didn’t tell her that. I just told her it made me feel good when she opened her locker door. The very next day she brought me a little lacy bag of sachet. Rose, just like hers.” Darlene looked at the burning cigarette. Her nose wrinkled. She dropped the stub, ground it beneath a dirt-stained sneaker. Perhaps the rank smell of tobacco dimmed the sweet memory of rose.
Sadness washed over Annie. Darlene had created a fantasy based on Jocelyn’s casual kindness. How little Darlene’s own life must have afforded her in the way of love and caring.
“That was very nice of Jocelyn. I see why you found her so special.” Annie picked her words carefully. “What happened that last night?”
Darlene’s lips trembled. “She was unhappy and Russell looked mean. I was worried about her. I decided to hang around in case she needed me. I could have walked back to the fire with her, held on to her.” There was a depth of longing in her voice, all her customary bravado and disdain and anger shed.
Annie understood more than she wished to know. Darlene had seen herself as a rescuer, a white knight restoring a beloved lady to safety and esteem. Darlene had built a dream in her mind with herself as heroine, but the dream had no reality.
Annie wondered if she was within reach of understanding Jocelyn’s death. “Russell looked mean?”
Darlene’s face hardened. Anger burned in her eyes. Red patches blotched her sallow cheeks. “He wouldn’t talk to Jocelyn. He ducked away every time she started toward him. Russell’s so big and ugly. I hate him. Finally, she came up behind him and caught his arm. She was crying. He looked like he wanted to push her away. She pointed outside the pavilion and they started walking that way. The fog made everything hard to see. You could only go a little way and everything was all blurry. I went after them because I wanted to protect her.” Tears slipped down Darlene’s cheeks. She made no effort to brush them away.
“I suppose it was private away from the pavilion.” A private place for a desperate girl and the boy who didn’t want to talk to her.
“Private. Quiet. I couldn’t hear a sound from the picnic. It was like being in a cloud somewhere. I came closer and closer. I wanted to reach out and touch her. She was crying. Jocelyn told him she needed help. Russell said he couldn’t do anything, that his dad would kill him, that he had to go to The Citadel. I didn’t know what he was talking about. Jocelyn grabbed his arm. ‘I’m not talking about the baby. I don’t care about your dad or whether you go to The Citadel. You should have thought about that before you said you loved me. But you’ve got to help me tonight—’ I didn’t mean to, but I guess I called her name. I couldn’t believe it. Jocelyn and him. I started to cry and she turned around and saw me. I wasn’t thinking and I stepped toward her and she”—Darlene choked back a sob—“screamed at me to go away, leave her alone, stop spying on her. I turned and ran. I never saw her again. I didn’t know she’d jump off the pier.”
Annie was stunned. Jocelyn pregnant, Russell the father, and a confrontation. “You didn’t tell anyone?”
Darlene slumped against the wall. “What good would it do? She was gone. Russell would lie. I didn’t want people talking about her. I wanted everyone to remember her the way she was, beautiful and clean and perfect.”
Annie looked into red-rimmed eyes. Darlene had not been able to save Jocelyn, but Darlene had guarded the world’s picture of her.
“If I’d known she was going to jump—”
Annie’s voice was sharp. “Jocelyn didn’t jump. She was pushed.” Annie reached in her purse, pulled out the bright yellow flyer, thrust it at Darlene. “That’s why Iris came home. She saw someone walk into the woods with Jocelyn at the sports picnic. Iris was afraid Jocelyn’s death wasn’t an accident. Iris came back to the island to try to find out the truth. Somebody strangled her to keep her quiet.”
Darlene stared down at the flyer. One hand came to her chest, pressed against it as if to quiet a racing heart. She stood rigid as steel.
“That’s why we have to find out what happened the night Jocelyn died. Are you sure she meant that Russell was the father?”
Darlene stood mute. It was not so much that she ignored Annie as that she was unaware of Annie’s presence. Darlene looked up from the flyer, her eyes wide and fixed. She flexed thin, spiderweb-tattooed fingers, curled them tight, crushing the flyer.
Annie tried to break through that wall of silence. “Don’t you see? Friday night Iris went into the woods with someone. She was strangled with the cord from a table so it had to be a guest who killed her. Iris must have been persuaded that everything was all right. Maybe the murderer promised to show her what happened with Jocelyn.”
Darlene stared into the distance. “Jocelyn.” The word was thick and slow as if dredged from deep within. Abruptly, she pulled off the stained apron, flung it on the ground. She was short and chunky in a tie-dye T-shirt and tight jeans. She turned away.
“Darlene.” Annie moved after her. “Please…”
Darlene yanked a rusted blue bike from a rack and flung herself on it. She hunched over the handlebars, pedaled away fast.
MAX ROLLED THE WHEELCHAIR INTO THE MAIN ENTRANCE of the high school and recognized the familiar school smell, a combination of wax and antiseptic and the scent of baking. Hurrying teenagers, loud and boisterous, opened a path that closed behind him. He checked in at the main office, grinned at dark, intense Angie Taylor, the receptionist who also volunteered at The Haven. “Hey, Angie. I’m here to see Coach Butterworth.”
“Hey, Max, glad you and Annie are all right.” Angie’s big brown eyes looked shocked.
Max wasn’t surprised that she knew. Very few on the island would be unaware of the fire. “Thanks. We were lucky.”
Her brows drew down in a frown. “You hurt bad?”
“Scratched-up feet.” Maybe tomorrow the pain would ease some. “I borrowed a wheelchair. I’m doing fine. Do you know where I can find Coach?”
She gestured to her right. “He has lunchroom duty, first serving. Everything goes real smooth when Coach is on duty. The lunchroom’s down the hall and to the left through the double doors.”
Max found the stocky coach standing near the terrace exit. The coolness of steel blue eyes belied his genial expression. “Yo, Max.”
They shook hands.
Butterworth glanced at the wheelchair. “I hear you and Annie had a close call last night.”
“Yeah. Too close.”
A whoop and scuffle sounded behind him.
Butterworth looked past Max, didn’t raise his voice. “Cool it.”
Two bulky teens in sweatshirts and jeans abruptly pulled apart and lumbered past. “Yo, Coach.”
When they were past, apparently well aware that the coach’s steady gaze followed them, Butterworth looked at Max and yanked a thumb toward the terrace door. “Quieter outside.” He spoke loud enough to be heard over the lunchroom hubbub. “I can see through windows. Don’t make me be in a hurry to come back in.” He held the door for Max.
The terrace was cool and quiet. The onshore breeze fluttered weeping willow fronds, rattled magnolia leaves, bent the cordgrass in the salt marsh. Butterworth stood with his back to the marsh, looking through windows into the lunchroom. He went right to the point, making it clear that Iris’s death and its probable cause were a topic of faculty discussion. “Maybe we should have tumbled to something when Iris went off the rails after Jocelyn died. She dropped out of school, left the island. Nobody put two and two together. Now it looks like we were stupid. Everybody thought Iris was scared because of drugs. Later, after she ran away, we heard she’d supplied cocaine to Sam. Now, it sounds like there was someone else behind her.”
“That’s what she told someone later.” Max saw no reason to mention Jocelyn’s pregnancy. If it wasn’t the reason for murder, let Jocelyn and her baby rest in peace.
“If”—Butterworth’s eyes crinkled in thought—“the drug dealer was at your picnic and was also at the pavilion the night Jocelyn died, the list is pretty short.”
Max waited. He didn’t need to tell Coach the names.
Butterworth jammed his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Loose words can ruin lives.”
Max remained silent.
Butterworth looked weary. “You came near dying last night. If I know anything, I have to tell you.” His face folded in a frown. “My wife’s been a Girl Scout leader for years, ever since our girls were young.”
Max knew this mattered.
“She comes to all the school events. She knows a lot of the girls. Not the guys, unless they’re on the football team.” He rubbed knuckles on his cheek. “The fog made everything out of kilter. It was like being in a dream. It’s hard to remember what happened when. And it’s been ten years. The best I can recall is that about fifteen minutes before the awards ceremony, my wife asked me to come with her to the woods. I was pretty short with her. I was trying to get the patches in order. I had some parents helping, but we were running late. I hated that because I knew everybody wanted to get done with the evening. We’d had a pretty big turnout. Even more parents came than usual. Maybe because of Sam’s death. It was tough because all the guys were upset about Sam. It was going to be hard to get through the program without somebody breaking down. Hazel—my wife—said I needed to check the woods. Hazel was going back to her car for a jacket when she saw Cara Jackson slipping out of the pavilion. Hazel didn’t think it looked right so she went after Cara. She saw Cara follow a couple into the woods. She said Cara looked sneaky. Besides, the kids weren’t supposed to leave the pavilion grounds. Hazel was too far away to know who the couple was. About the time we got close to the woods, Buck Carlisle came toward us. He wasn’t an athlete but he came to the picnic for his sister Jodie. She was a top swimmer. I stopped him and asked what was going on in the woods. Buck said Jocelyn was upset about Sam.” Butterworth’s eyes were somber. “Buck looked like somebody’d kicked him in the gut. I thought I understood. Sam was his friend and here was Sam’s sister going to pieces. I almost asked Hazel to go into the woods and find the girls, but I decided everything was probably okay. Cara had seen Jocelyn and Buck and followed them. She would help Jocelyn. I felt reassured. Maybe I made one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. I told Hazel we should give Jocelyn space. It wouldn’t help anything for us to go after her, maybe make her feel worse. By this time Buck had disappeared into the fog. I went back to the pavilion and got the program started. For a long time afterward, I’d wake up in the night and wonder if I’d gone into the woods I might have been in time to keep Jocelyn from jumping. Now it looks even uglier.”
ANNIE REACHED THE MOUTH OF THE ALLEY AND WALKED TO the corner of Main and Broward. She had a good view of the harbor, the ferry dock, and downtown with its one-and two-story buildings, some old and weathered, some more modern with stuccoed walls and tiled roofs. The harbor pavilion was a block to her left.
She looked in all directions. Darlene was out of sight. She was distraught and in a hurry. In a hurry to do what? Annie felt uneasy. There had been a determination in Darlene’s hurried departure that suggested she had some action in mind. Could she know some fact that linked one of her classmates to Iris? In any event, Billy needed to know what Darlene claimed to have heard between Jocelyn and Russell.
Annie glanced down Main Street. She was a half-block from Liz Montgomery’s store. Annie felt a sudden emptiness. If she repeated Darlene’s story to Billy, Liz and Russell would suffer.
She had no choice. She had to tell Billy. Annie walked steadily toward the police station. She was halfway there when her cell phone rang. She smiled at the caller ID. She stopped on the boardwalk, again welcoming the cool and fresh onshore breeze. “Max, listen.” She spilled out Darlene’s revelation.
Max interrupted. “Frank told me this morning that Jocelyn was pregnant. It makes sense that Russell was the father. It will never be proved. I went to the cemetery. I found Jocelyn’s urn. She was cremated.”
Annie was never willing to picture cremation. Her mind pushed away images of flames and a body reduced to ashes. She said quickly, “Maybe nothing can be proved by DNA, but Darlene heard Jocelyn say Russell was the father.”
“That’s what Darlene told you.” Max was matter-of-fact. “Maybe she heard that. Maybe she didn’t. Only she and Russell know for certain what was said. But Billy needs to know. Where’s Darlene?”
“She jumped on her bike and rode away.” Annie felt a sudden catch in her throat. “I’d better hurry and tell Billy. Maybe he can find her, keep her safe.”
“Safe?” Max’s query was sharp.
“Darlene was distraught when I told her Jocelyn was murdered. I don’t know what she might do.” Annie pictured Darlene pumping hard on the bicycle pedals. “She said Jocelyn’s name and rode away.”
“Billy can find her. But Russell isn’t the only one who needs to answer some questions about the sports picnic. Coach Butterworth told me…”
Annie remembered the block letters of the anonymous note: Buck walked into the woods with Jocelyn the night she died.
“…but Coach didn’t go into the woods. He thought Jocelyn was with Cara. I called Billy. He thanked me and said he’d be in touch with Coach. I’m sure Billy had already asked Buck about the anonymous note. I imagine Buck claimed he left Jocelyn in the woods and didn’t see her again. There’s no proof Buck didn’t do exactly that.”
In Annie’s mind, it was as if a bright shaft of light circled two moments in time: Jocelyn leaving the pavilion with Russell, Jocelyn and Buck walking into the woods. “We have to find out whether Jocelyn quarreled with Russell before or after she was with Buck.”
“We can try.” Static crackled on the line. Finally, Max said quietly, “Maybe the timing mattered. Maybe it didn’t. Jocelyn could have gone into the woods with Buck and Buck left her alive. And then she and Russell walked away from the pavilion. Or she and Russell quarreled and later she went into the woods with Buck. And on to the pier.”
THE RECEPTION AREA OF CARLISLE, SMITHERMAN, AND Carlisle reminded Max of appointments in a funeral home, dark cherry wood, gray walls, subdued lighting, a solemn aura of calm and repose. Max rolled the chair to a stop at the counter.
Ellen Nelson, a scratch golfer, looked up from her computer. Max often played a round with her husband Paul. A tall, angular brunette, Ellen exuded competence. “Hey, Max. What can I do for you?”
“Is Buck in? If he’s free, I’d like to see him.”
“I’ll check. He’s pressed this morning.” She pushed the intercom button. “Max Darling’s here and would like to see you.”
There was a pause. “Max? All right.” Buck sounded weary.
Ellen came around the counter and held the hall door.
“Thanks.” In the hall, it was hard to roll the chair on the thick gray carpet.
Buck was waiting in his open doorway. He waited as Max wheeled inside, then closed the door. He walked toward his desk, then swerved to the window, holding up a hand to protect his eyes against a sharp glare of sunlight. He tilted the shades up to redirect the light. “The light hurts my eyes.”
Max stopped the wheelchair near the desk.
Buck settled into his desk chair. He rubbed his face. “I’ve got a headache that won’t quit. I guess it’s because I overslept. Dad’s furious with me. I was late getting here for a conference call. Anyway, I’m running behind.” He glanced at papers and legal pads strewn on the desktop.
Max stared at Buck. Buck overslept. A figure had slipped through shadows, carrying a gas tin, to fire an inferno. Only Dorothy L.’s frenzied cries and Duane’s quick action saved them. This morning, Buck overslept. Either Buck was innocent as a lamb or he was explaining away his late arrival at the office.
Buck looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s tough not to get enough sleep.” He’d never thought Buck especially clever. If Buck was playing an ingenuous role, he was very clever indeed. Max’s gaze never left Buck’s tired face. “Annie and I are running a little short today, too.”
Buck massaged one temple. “I heard. That’s awful.” There was nothing but sympathy in his expression. “Are you guys staying in another cabin?”
“No.” Max didn’t elaborate. Although word spread fast on the island, Max had no intention of announcing their whereabouts. Max pushed away memories of fire and fear. He wasn’t here for a social visit or legal consultation. Maybe challenging Buck wasn’t smart, but the time for innocuous questions was long past. “What happened between you and Jocelyn Howard in the woods at the sports picnic the night she drowned?”
Buck’s face slowly hardened. “I could ask what the hell business is it of yours.” He slowly came to his feet, met Max’s hard stare. “I guess I know the answer. Somebody tried to kill you and Annie last night. Billy Cameron’s got it all worked out. Jocelyn was pushed. Iris saw her with somebody.” He took a deep breath. “Billy thinks the murderer set your cabin on fire because Annie talked to Iris. All I know for sure is that Jocelyn and Iris are dead. I’ll tell you what I told Billy.” Once again he rubbed his head. “The sports picnic was awful.” There was remembered pain in his voice. “Jocelyn was upset because of Sam. She wanted to know where he got the cocaine. I guess she figured I would know since Sam and I were friends. I told Jocelyn all I knew.” He looked straight at Max, eyes steady. “Sam bought the stuff from Iris. I told Jocelyn and I left her in the woods. Alive. I swear she was alive.” His voice broke.
“What did Jocelyn say when you told her?”
Buck’s gaze dropped. He moved his hands, cracking the knuckles. “She was going to talk to Iris.”
Max leaned forward. Why wouldn’t Buck look at him? “But what did she say to you?”
Buck swallowed. His voice was thick. “She cried. I couldn’t stand hearing her cry.”
“Did she run ahead of you out of the woods to go hunt for Iris?” Coach had told Max that Buck came out of the woods. He would have seen Jocelyn if she’d run ahead of Buck.
Buck hung his head. “No.” The sound was muffled.
Max stared at him. “You left her there in the woods, upset and crying?”
Buck looked miserable. “I couldn’t do anything to help. Nothing was going to bring Sam back, and I couldn’t stand seeing her cry. I left her there. She was alive.” His voice was loud. “She was alive. I never saw her again.”
ANNIE STOOD WITH HER BACK TO THE HARBOR, ARMS FOLDED, surveying the picnic area and the woods beyond. A cloud slid over the sun. April is capricious, its tantalizing hint of warmth easily discouraged. Annie wished for her sweater, but she’d left it in the car. She’d grab it in a few minutes before she met Max for lunch at Parotti’s.
Her visit with Billy had been brief. He’d thanked her, not indicating what he intended to do with Darlene’s information. Of course he would check her claims out, but Annie felt uneasy. Why had Darlene hurried away? Obviously, she was shocked and shaken that Jocelyn’s death had been murder. Perhaps her precipitous departure was easily explained. She needed time and space to deal with her anguish.
Yet, there had been a sense of purposefulness in Darlene’s departure.
Annie walked past a row of palmettos. The serving stations had been set up just about here, conveniently close to the picnic tables. Annie smoothed out wheel tracks in the sandy ground. Three servers: Miss Jolene, Darlene, and another older woman. Barb would have her name.
Annie took two steps. She’d not paid a great deal of attention when she’d gone through the line, but she rather thought Darlene had been at the middle station. Annie pretended to spoon fried zucchini or lift corn on the cob with tongs. She looked up.
Her arm remained in its make-believe posture as she stared beyond the picnic tables at the entrance to the woods. A lamppost was only a few feet away from the path. She recalled the lights Friday night, luminous and golden, designed for beauty not stark illumination. Yet there was sufficient light that anyone walking into the woods would be visible for a brief moment.
Especially from this vantage point.
Annie hesitated. She’d intended to take a brief look, then walk to Parotti’s to meet Max. Instead, she took one step, then another toward the woods. Her throat felt dry. She didn’t want to enter the dim woods. The woods hadn’t been safe Friday night, but of course there was no danger now.
Annie forced herself to move forward. She stopped in the center of the picnic area and glanced at her watch. She slipped onto a bench, pictured the centerpieces. It was the work of only seconds to pretend to tweak free a length of cord, put it in her pocket. Another pocket would hold the shucking gloves.
As if smiling at a fellow guest, she gestured toward the pavilion. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Once away from the table, the guest would be swallowed up in the dusk, face and figure indeterminate. As Annie saw it, Iris must have passed near the murderer’s table, walking toward the pavilion, likely on her way to the women’s restroom.
Annie walked up to the pavilion. Friday night the pavilion tables hadn’t been used so the only visitors would be those coming up to the restrooms.
When Iris came out of the restroom, a familiar voice called to her. There were so many ways a conversation might have occurred, but whatever was said, Iris had been persuaded to come into the woods.
Annie came down the path, turned left to reach the entrance to the woods. There would have been a brief moment when Iris and the figure beside her moved through the amber light from the lamp.
That moment was unlikely to have been noticed by the guests, absorbed in conversation and food. The picnic tables sat end side to the woods so the path was in their guests’ peripheral vision. Only the servers faced the entrance. The bandstand was between the woods and the picnic tables. The musicians had their backs to the woods and the path.
Annie drew a quick breath and plunged into dimness. Squirrels chittered. An unseen pine warbler’s distinctive wip wip wip chirped nearby. She kept a moderate pace as if walking with a companion, talking. She brushed aside ferns, carrying with her the memory of Iris’s huddled body. As she came around another curve, crime tape hung limply across the path.
Annie averted her gaze from the area marked off by the tape. She dropped back a step as if casually falling behind a companion. She imagined yanking on the gloves and grabbing a thick branch, sturdy enough to be a club. She cracked the weapon through the air, jolted it to a stop neck high. In her mind, Iris sagged to the ground. Annie knelt, pulled free the cord, looped it…
She waited a full minute. The caw of a crow sounded a dirge.
Jumping to her feet, Annie ran lightly back toward the picnic ground. She paused to quiet her breathing before plunging out of the woods and moving quickly past the lamppost. She returned to the center table.
Annie looked at her watch with a sense of wonder.